#will (confused) yeah???? why wouldn’t i??? were you uncomfortable or something??? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

percevalec · 4 months ago

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THIS WONT STAY IN VEGAS {part 3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Female!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: You went clubbing with your friend, celebrating her moving to Vegas. You got drunk and don't remember anything. The next morning you find yourself in bed with a stranger and a ring around your finger

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, smut, not proof read.

18+, please don’t read in you’re underage

do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

You stand there by the sink, left puzzled by Arthur’s cryptic words. You try to remember who Alexandra is, but nothing comes to mind. The name doesn’t ring a bell.

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As you're walking back to Charles' room your mind suddenly reminded you that you do know her, well not personally. You remember reading something about her being his ex girlfriend during that google search you did on your way to the airport.

As you enter the room, you see Charles laying on the bed, his phone in his hand. “Hey” you say as you walk over and lay next to him. By this point none of you found it weird or uncomfortable to spend time together, it was like second nature to always be close to each other. Mostly because you had to keep the act up in front of Pascal. Also you simply enjoyed each other's company, but you'd never admit that to yourself.

Charles looks up from his phone as you enter the room, a soft smile forming on his lips. "Hey" he replies, setting his phone aside. He watches as you plop down on the bed, his eyes following your movements. “Guess what” you say, lifting your head to look over at him. Charles rolls onto his side to face you, his interest piqued by your tone. "What?" he asks, his gaze fixed on your face. “Arthur knows” you say in a surprisingly casual tone. Charles' eyes widened in surprise at your words. He wasn't expecting that. "Wait, what?! How does he know?" he asks, extremely confused as to why you’re so calm. “He overheard our conversation from three days ago, but he said he didn’t really care and he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone”. Charles takes a moment to absorb the information, relief washing over him at the fact that Arthur had promised to keep the secret. "Well that's good at least" he sighs. "The last thing we need is the media or my mom finding out."

You respond with a slight guilt in your voice “Yeah, I think your mom likes me which makes this whole thing even more complicated than it already is” Charles nods in agreement, sadness in his expression. "She does, she loves every little thing about you." He reaches out and takes your hand in his, his fingers tracing your ring. "It's hard because she would be upset with both of us if she knew the truth." You sigh at his words, know "Right," he says quietly, disappointment in his voice. He had forgotten that he wasn't supposed to touch you like that, not when it was all pretend. “Oh, i almost forgot, remember the party your mom is hosting next sunday” Charles furrows his eyebrows at the sudden change of conversation "Yeah, why?" he says, his mind already drifting to the thought of the event. “Arthur told me to let you know that alexandra is coming, who is she?”. You still ask despite knowing the answer. You were curious to know what he would say.

Charles's eyes widened at the mention of the name "Alexandra." He hadn't expected you to ever say her name, he was left momentarily speechless. Groaning before answering. "She's an ex-girlfriend" he says, his tone guarded. “...Can I ask what happened?” you ask as you look down at the bed, avoiding his gaze. Charles lets out another deep sigh. "It's a bit of an old story," he says, his voice becoming quieter. "We dated for a few years, and then we just grew apart and eventually, it ended”. You nod your head as you listen to his story unsure on what to say. You look up at him and decide on “I'm sorry”. "It's fine," he replies, offering a small smile, though you can tell there's still a hint of sadness in his eyes. "It was a long time ago." He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. “So why is your mom inviting her? especially now that we’re “married”. Charles sighs “She's the daughter of one of my moms friends, so she's always been around, even before we were dating. I'm surprised she even agreed to coming, we’ve been avoiding each other for a while”.

You could tell this wasn't a simple story of a failed relationship. Maybe she meant more to Charles than you thought. “Maybe it's because she’s seen the articles about our perfect love story” you say laughing. Charles chuckles dryly, "Oh, I'm sure that's why," he says, rolling his eyes. "And she likely can't wait to make some snarky comment about it". “We can just avoid her, either way we have to be extremely convincing about our relationship during the party” Charles nods, taking your words to heart. "Yeah, well we can try to avoid her as much as possible, but she will probably want to talk to us." He sighs, contemplating the situation. "And you're right, we definitely have to sell this whole “perfect love” act even more at the party."

“Do you think it will be hard?” you ask.

Charles leans back against the headboard of the bed, mulling over your question. "Honestly?" he says, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I don't know. Pretending to be in love with you in front of our families has been... easier than I thought. But with Alexandra there, it could get complicated. She has a way of getting under my skin."

You’re not sure why his words made your stomach turn, but they did. So you ask the question you really don't want to know the answer to. “Do you still love her?”

Charles is caught off guard by your direct question, his initial instinct was to deflect. But looking at your face, he knew he couldn't lie. "I don't know," he admits quietly, shaking his head. "There are still... feelings. But it's complicated ." He looks back at you, searching your eyes for any hint of jealousy or annoyance. “Well maybe she can be the reason for our divorce” you suggest, trying to make a positive out of a negative. You needed an excuse for the divorce either way, You had originally thought about a big public fight but this made things easier, Charles leaving you to be with his true love. It would be the first thing both of you didn't lie about.

“You’ll realize you love her more than you loved me, that’s something the media will buy”. Charles hears the tinge of sadness in your voice and looks at you, his face softening. "You think so?" he asks, his tone laced with a hint of guilt for answering your question about Alexandra in the first place. "You'd be okay with the world thinking I fell for my ex girlfriend while being married to you?". Not truly wanting to answer his question, you reply “it doesn’t matter what i think, it's just an excuse to get out of this” Charles let out a deep sigh, the thought of having to explain to the world that he fell for someone else while being married to you didn't sit well with him, but he had no choice. "Yeah, I guess that's the best way" he finally says, reluctantly agreeing with your plan. “I’m sorry I'm in the way of you and her” you say in a low voice, almost whispering. Charles shakes his head, reaching over to take your hand in his. "You're not in the way," he says firmly, looking into your eyes. "This whole situation is just... complicated. And it's not your fault. It's not like you wanted to be fake married to me." You nod your head forcing a smile “yeah, of course”.

Charles's heart twists at the sight of your forced smile. He wishes he could do more to ease your pain, but he knows that the situation is out of his control. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “You love doing that don’t you” you ask chuckling, referring to him putting your hair behind your ear. A small smile tugs at the corner of Charles's lips as he realizes he's been caught. "Yeah, I guess I do," he admits sheepishly. "It just... feels natural, I guess." He lets his hand linger against your cheek for a moment, his touch tender. "Sometimes I wonder," you say, your voice soft and full of unsaid feelings. "What if we had met in a different way?” A soft sigh escaped your lips as you continued "I wonder where we’d be now". Charles lets out a wistful sigh as he contemplates your question, his mind wandering to the what if's. "Me too," he says quietly, his gaze fixed on your face. "If we had met under different circumstances... I wonder what could've been."

Neither of you say anything. You just stare into each other's eyes.

"You're staring" he finally says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re staring back” you reply, laughing at his words

Charles lets out a low chuckle, his smirk widening. "Fair enough," he concedes, his eyes never leaving yours. “I'm getting sleepy, it's been a long day. Goodnight Charlie” you say before kissing his cheek and turning over. Charles’s heart skips a beat at the feel of your lips on his cheek, a small shiver running down his spine. He looks at your turned back, his gaze lingering on your form. “Goodnight,” he says quietly, the hint of a smile on his lips.

WEEK 2 DAY 3

You and Charles wake up around the same time as always. You both get ready and head downstairs to the kitchen. That’s when you both realize that you're the only one home. "Looks like we've got the place to ourselves today," he says with a hint of surprise in his voice. “What should we do?” you ask as you walk closer to him.

Charles and you have now spent 14 days together, counting from the day you saw each other at the club, and you’re becoming inseparable. Despite not letting yourself, you still feel attracted to Charles and everyday it gets harder to suppress your feelings. Even after he confessed he still feels something for Alex. What you don't know is that he only started thinking about her again to not think about you. He started this ever since you turned him down the other day. He remembers your words perfectly “this could never work”.

Charles thinks about your question for a moment, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "Well, we've got the whole house to ourselves," he says, a hint of excitement in his tone. "Why don't we make the most of it?".

You walk closer. “Yeah? And how would we do that?. Charles grins as you walk closer to him, his eyes sparkling with a hint of playfulness. "Well, let's see," he says, pretending to think. "We could watch a movie, bake something, or..." He steps closer to you, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone. “Or….?” you whisper. Charles closes the remaining distance between you, his body just inches away from yours. He looks down at you, his gaze intense. "Or we could do something... more fun," he says, his voice a sultry whisper. “Actually, I think I'm craving Italian, take me to dinner” you say laughing as you step back. Charles feigns disappointment for a moment before chuckling softly. "Fine, Italian it is," he says, playfully rolling his eyes. "But only if I get to pick where we're going”. “You know this place better than I do anyways” Charles grins, happy to be the one who gets to choose. "Exactly," he says, a hint of smugness in his voice. "I know all the best spots in this city." He held out his hand "Ready to go?".

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On your way to the restaurant you surprisingly only get stopped 3 times for pictures. Charles seems completely unfazed, smiling and waving graciously each time. As you finally arrive at the restaurant, he leads you inside, a hand placed on your lower back.

Charles and you are led to a secluded table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. He pulls out a chair for you before taking his own seat. "I've been here many times," he says, looking around the elegant space. "It's one of my favorite Italian spots in the city." You look around taking in the beauty “You know, i'll definitely miss Monaco when this is over”. "Yeah," he says quietly, his gaze drifting to the window outside. "But you'll come back to visit, right?" His ask, eyes flicking back to you. “Only if you bring me back here” you joke. A small smile tugs at the corner of Charles's lips. "Of course," he says, playing along. "This is definitely the best Italian food you'll ever have. You'll be craving it for months after you're gone."

You order your meals and continue talking as you eat, the conversation flowing effortlessly between you.

Charles leans back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You know," he says suddenly, his eyes fixed on yours. "You're not bad to be married to. We make a pretty convincing couple." You laugh at his comment “Shut up” you say smiling. Charles mock-gasps in exaggerated surprise, placing a hand against his chest. "Hey, it's not my fault we're so good at pretending!" he protests, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Everything continues going fine when suddenly your heart drops as you hear a voice calling your name. No one knew you here except Charles and his family. So it could only be one person, Leonardo.

“Y/N Y/L/N … or i guess it’s Y/N Leclerc now” he says chuckling “Never thought i would see you here again, especially married” Charles head snaps up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, his muscles tensing almost instantly. He looks at you and sees the color drain from your face. “Leo, i never thought i would see you again either” you say giving Charles an apologetic look. This is the one thing you should have told him. The real reason you came to Monaco the first time.

A few years back you were madly in love with Leonardo. You both met in New York, his mom used to Co-own the magazine company with your mother. Everything was perfect, whenever you thought about getting married you always pictured him waiting at the altar. So you agreed to move back home with him in Monaco, that's when your relationship started falling apart. He would come home late and blame it on the crazy traffic “so many tourists” he would say, trying to use it as an excuse. You believed him. Until one day you walked in the house and found him fucking some random girl. Your world came down and you swore to never return, he ruined you, you were a mess after the incident. You always turned down anything to do with Monaco in fear you would run into him in the small country. Charles dragging you here is what made you come to love Monaco, you realized the only bad thing here was Leo.

Charles looks at you, confusion and a hint of hurt crossing his face. He had no idea about your past with the man who had suddenly appeared. He remains silent, watching the interaction between you and Leo. “I couldn't believe it when I first read the articles and saw that you got married to a F1 driver,” he says, looking back and forth to you and charles. “Well unexpected things can happen” you say, giving him a fake smile. “How is she?” Leo asks Charles. “Well she's better with me than she ever was with you” Charles replied. He took a gamble with his response, he knew nothing about the man standing at your table, but by the look on your face he could tell you wanted him gone.

“Hmm right, I'm sure she told you all about me, I just can't believe you convinced her to move back” he says laughing. “Just go leo, there's nothing we need to talk about, besides, i know you have bad luck and get stuck in traffic” you say glaring at him. “I will go, but not because you're telling me to. Tiffany is waiting in the car, you’ve met her Y/N." Leo says smiling as he nudges your shoulder and leaves. You hold in your breath as he says the last few words, assuming she's the girl you caught him with. Charles watches the exchange between you and Leo, his jaw clenching tighter with each word spoken. He can sense the tension in the air, the history that lies between you and Leo. His mind is racing with questions

Charles is left speechless as he processes what just happened. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He stares at Leo as he leaves the restaurant. Finally, he turns to you, his gaze a mix of confusion and hurt. "What the hell was that?" he snaps, his voice barely above a murmur. “Can we just go, i'll explain on the way home” You say as you stand up. Charles lets out a deep breath, his hands clenched into fists. "Yeah," he mutters, getting up from his seat. "Let's just go."

The walk home is filled with an uncomfortable silence. Charles's mind is reeling with questions, his body tense with anger. He glances over at you, his jaw set in a tight line as he listens silently to you laying out the details of your past with Leo. His eyes stay fixed on the sidewalk. When you finish speaking, the walk falls quiet again as Charles processes everything he's just heard. “I'm sorry i should have told you” you say breaking the silence. Charles sighs, his grip on his fist loosening slightly. "Yeah, you should have," he says, his voice betraying a hint of hurt. "I can't believe you kept something like that from me, especially with all the time we've spent together”. “I didn't think it would be important for you to know,” you say, slightly agitated. Charles turns to you, his eyes flashing with a hint of anger. "You didn't think it was important for me to know about your ex-boyfriend who lives in Monaco?" he says, his voice strained. "You don't think that's something I should've known about?" your eyes tear up “How was i supposed to know we would run into him” Charles glances at you, seeing the tears welling up in your eyes. He takes a deep breath, his hand twitching slightly as he fights the urge to reach out to you. "Yeah, whatever" he mutters, his tone softening a bit. "But it still would've been nice to know that I could’ve been confronted by your ex at some point". “You don't get to be mad with me about this, you also didn't tell me about Alex, or how you still love her”

Charles bristles at your words, his jaw clenching at the mention of Alexandra. "That's different," he snaps, his eyes flickering between you and the road. "I eventually told you where my feelings stand. You never told me anything about Leo". You hold back tears, “There was no point in telling you anyways, there's only 2 weeks left before I never have to see you again” Charles’ heart clenches at your words, the reality of the situation washing over him yet again. He lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, that's right. Two more weeks of pretending until we can go back to our separate lives, right?" “Don't make me regret agreeing to this” you say as tears run down your eyes. You watch the anger and hurt falter from Charles at the sight of your tears. His heart aches at the sight of your pain, and he feels a pang of guilt for lashing out at you. He lets out a deep sigh. "I don't want you to regret anything," he mutters, his voice softer now.

The rest of the walk is silent until you reach home.

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Charles follows you upstairs and into his bedroom. The room is quiet, the only sound coming from the soft hum of the air. He closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he gazes at you. You walk over to the nightstand, taking off your earrings before glaring back at him. He watches you silently for a few moments, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. He looks conflicted, a mix of anger and longing on his expression. After a moment, he crosses the room and sits down on the edge of the bed, gesturing for you to join him. You comply and join him, letting out a sigh as you sit down next to him, the mattress sinking under your combined weight. He reaches out tentatively, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice full of remorse. "I shouldn’t have gotten angry”. You let the silence linger a bit before replying “It’s fine, I should have told you.” Charles looks down at your joined hands, his thumb tracing small circles on your skin. "Yeah, you should have," he says quietly. "But I can understand why you didn’t. It’s not exactly easy to talk about past relationships”. You dont reply and simply rest against him. He hesitates for a moment before gently wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer, watching as you turn your head up to look at him. He looks down at you, his eyes meeting yours.

He takes in the sight of your face, so close to his own. His gaze flickers back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his heart starting to race. Charles can feel the heat radiating off your body, the sound of your breathing filling his ears. He looks down at you, his lips parting slightly as he fights the desire to close the distance between you. He clenches his jaw, his hand unconsciously tightening around your waist, his other hand on your cheek feels warm and soft. His thumb tracing small circles on your skin. He pulls your face closer, now just inches apart. He inhales deeply, the scent of your perfume filling his nostrils.

“Charles we ca-” Charles’ hand moves from your cheek to your chin, holding it tightly. "Shut up, shut up Y/N. Stop reminding me that I can't have you". His words leave you shocked, you expected him to let go like he's done other times, but part of you is glad he didn't. “Kiss me” you whisper. Charles's heart thunders in his chest, his breaths quickening at your words. For a moment he hesitates, warring with his own feelings, but in the end, he gives in. His hand slides from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he jumps at the sound of someone knocking the bedroom door. You also jump at the sudden noise ruining the moment. “We’re home” Arthur yells through the door. Charles lets out a curse word under his breath as he hears Arthur's voice from the other side of the door. He reluctantly pulls away from you, his hand sliding off your neck as he calls out, "Okay whatever”.

You slightly move away from Charles as you laugh. He shoots you a mock-annoyed look, his lips twitching in a faint smile despite his best efforts. "Oh, you think it’s funny, huh?" he teases, crossing his arms over his chest. “We can never have a moment can we” you say smiling. Charles lets out a short laugh, his arms dropping back to his sides. "No, apparently not," he mutters, shaking his head. "Someone’s always interrupting us”. Without hesitation you bluntly speak your thoughts “i wish i could remember the night we hooked up”. Charles almost chokes on his own breath at your sudden words. His mind goes blank for a moment as he processes what you just said. Then, he laughs hoarsely. "Y/N, you can't just say things like that without warning”. “Please, I know you've also thought the same thing”. Charles is speechless for a moment, rendered speechless by your comment. He has thought it, the memory of that night a blur due to all the alcohol that was consumed. But hearing you say it out loud, without any hint of embarrassment, throws him off. He shakes his head, a mixture of amusement and desire flickering in his eyes.

WEEK 2 DAY 7

The days pass and Sunday, the day of the party, quickly approaches. Charles' mom is in a frenzy, preparing for the event. Charles himself is nervous, the thought of seeing Alexandra again making him visibly uneasy.

The night approaches and both you and Charles get ready in his room. Charles stands in front of the mirror in the bedroom, adjusting his tie. He glances at you, taking in your appearance. "You look good," he says quietly, a hint of a smile on his face. “Thank you” you reply while trying to cover the blush creeping in on your face. “We should probably head downstairs” you suggest as you walk towards him. Charles's eyes move over your figure. He swallows, his mind flashing back to the memories of you almost kissing him yesterday. Charles nods, tearing his gaze away from you. "Yeah, we should," he mutters. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the night ahead. He holds out his hand for you to take. "Ready?" You take his hand and smile as you walk towards the party.

The Party is buzzing with chatter and laughter of guests, music playing in the background. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sparkle of champagne. Charles tightens his grip on your hand as you walk further into the room, his eyes scanning the crowd.

A few minutes go by and not much has happened yet. Just random guests congratulating you or boring you with small talk. While Charles is talking to one of the guests, you whisper “I'm going to go get a drink” in his ear. Charles nods, understanding your need to escape the boring talk for a moment. "Yeah, okay" He lets go of your hand reluctantly, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. You leave and make your way to the drink station. As you’re pouring yourself a drink you think about how in a few hours this whole situation was going to end in a week. You were going to miss Charles more than you wanted to admit, your mind thought back to the conversation you had with him about how it was “never going to work” but maybe it could work. He made you happy and you needed to accept that. You need to stop pushing him away. So you decided on telling him how you felt tonight.

But as you come back with your drink, you notice Charles engaged in conversation with Alexandra. They're standing close together, their faces mere feet apart. Charles' expression is polite and guarded, Alex's lips twisted in a smile. Fuck you thought to yourself. The stupid “plan” of letting Charles flirt with Alex to win her back had completely slipped your mind. What if maybe he did want to get the divorce?, after all there he was talking with her.

Charles turns at the sound of your footsteps approaching, his eyes locking on yours as you come to a stop next to him. A flicker of nervousness passes over his face, replaced quickly by a neutral expression. Alexandra looks up at you, her smile faltering slightly as she takes in your presence. “Hey” you say politely greeting the woman your husband was going to eventually leave you for. "Hey," Alexandra says, her voice cool and aloof. Her gaze moves between you and Charles, a hint of contempt in her eyes. Charles stays silent, his hand unconsciously clenching at his side. “I’m Y/N” you say, extending your hand to greet her. Alexandra looks at your hand, her eyes narrowing as she takes in your gesture. After a moment, she reaches out and shakes your hand, her grip strong and deliberate. "I'm Alexandra," she says with a harsh tone “I used to date Charles”. He watches the interaction between you and Alexandra, his jaw clenching at the slight hostility coming from her. He doesn't like the way she's looking at you, the jealousy in her eyes. “I know,” You respond in a calm tone before turning to Charles “i hope i'm not interrupting anything” "No, of course not," Charles says quickly, shaking his head. He glances at Alexandra, who purses her lips and says nothing.

You softly smile “well i'm going to excuse myself, enjoy the party”. Charles reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you back. "Wait," he says urgently, his voice low. “What” you whisper back. He leans in close to you, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't go," he murmurs, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. "Please." You swallow as you say words you don't mean “This is your chance to win her back Charles. It will help our little divorce story”. Charles looks torn at your words, his gaze flickering between you and Alexandra. His heart is torn between wanting to keep you with him and wanting to keep up the façade and follow through with a plan he doesn't even want part in. He's only agreeing because he thinks you’re never going to give him a chance. Not with the way you dont let him touch you or say sweet things to you, and how you always have to remind him none of this is real, and you never gave him any hope that this would last more than 4 weeks you agreed to spend with him before going back to Vegas and finalizing the divorce.

"I know," he mutters, his voice strained. "Just... don't go too far. Stay somewhere I can see you." You nod and make your way through the crowd of people. Charles watches you walk away, his heart heavy with mixed emotions. He turns back to Alexandra, who is watching you leave with a hint of happiness in her eyes.

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A few hours pass and Chales and Alex are still talking with each other. You can't stand the sight of him making her laugh or how her hand lingers too long on his arm. You need a distraction from this, so you make your way to the bathroom, taking a moment to compose yourself. Your heart is racing with a mix of emotions, the sight of them together stirring up feelings of jealousy and pain you never thought you would experience at the hands of a fake relationship. You make the irrational decision and decide to pull out your phone and dial Leo's number.

“Hey leonardo, its Y/N”

Leo picks up on the other end of the line, his voice deep and smooth. "Hey Y/N, what's up?"

“I sent you my location, can you meet me here”

Leo's curiosity is piqued at your request. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there in a few minutes".

“Hurry” is all you say before hanging up the call. A sense of dread washing over you.

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You check your phone and see that Leo has texted you, letting you know that he's arrived. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you're about to do. Leo walks in through the door, his eyes scanning the room as he takes in the sight of the party. He spots you immediately, his face breaking into a smile as he walks over to you. “Hi” you say in a low voice. "Hey," Leo replies, his voice just as low. He glances around, making sure no one is eavesdropping on your conversation. "What's going on? Finally realized I'm better than that F1 driver?" he says laughing. Why, just why did you have to do this.”'Let's talk somewhere more private” You say as you drag him to a vacant room.

As Charles continues talking with Alex, his eyes instinctively drift towards you. He observes you in the distance, walking with someone to the empty room. A puzzled expression forms on his face as he wonders who you even know at the party. Minutes go by, and Charles notices that you haven’t left the room. His curiosity piqued, a sense of worry creeping in, he excuses himself from the conversation and makes his way towards the room you’re in."

You and Leo walk through the crowd, Leo following you as you lead the way to an empty room. As you enter, you shut the door behind you, the noise from the party outside quickly fading to a low murmur. “I just need to get my mind off him” You say as you walk closer to him. Leo looks at you, a hint of curiosity and confusion in his eyes as you approach. “What exactly is the reason you invited me here?" You close the distance between both of you “I don't know” you whisper. He grabs your face “Want me to kiss you?”

Charles was simply talking to Alex, nothing more, yet here you were about to kiss your ex, all because you don't believe Charles actually likes you.

You nod at Leo's words, but as he's about to close the distance you hear the door open.

Charles enters the room, his footsteps halting suddenly as he takes in the sight before him. His eyes widen in shock as he sees you and Leo so close together. He stands frozen for a moment, unable to speak. His mind is racing, processing the scene before him. He looks from you to Leo, anger and hurt warring in his expression. “I- I can e- Charles it's not what you think” You say as you back away from Leo. Charles clenches his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The sight has struck him like a blow to the gut, bringing up a tidal wave of emotions. He says nothing as he grabs your wrist and drags you up the stairs to his room.

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12:00 AM WEEK 3 DAY 1

Charles pushes you into the room, the door slamming shut behind you with a loud thud. The room is plunged into silence for a moment as he turns to face you, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. “Charles, I'm sorry” you say as you turn around to face him. He stares at you with dark eyes and an intense stare. "Sorry?" he repeats, his voice low and harsh. "You're sorry for what, huh? For kissing another guy?". Tears formed in your eye “I didn't kiss him. And even if i did it's not like we are actually together”. Charles lets out a strangled laugh at that, his expression hardening. "Oh, so that makes it okay then? You could just kiss whoever you want because we're not together?" Silence lingers before you speak up “I saw you talking to Alex for hours and i got jealous, i acted on impulse i fucked up i know”. Charles takes a step towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because that's what you wanted me to do, try and fall in love with her so the divorce can have a reason behind it” He yells “But did you ever think that I don't want to leave you”. His words still somehow caught you by surprise.

“What?” you whisper. Charles lets out a sigh, his hand raking through his hair. "Jesus, do I really have to spell it out for you?" he snaps. "I don't want to leave you, I never did. I want to be with you, always. But you... you always turned me down. Did you even think about how I would feel?".

“You told me you still loved her” you reply. Charles scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Love her?" he says, his voice dripping with bitterness. "I said that to see if you would just finally admit your possible feelings for me. But It was all an act, a performance to please you so we could have an “excuse” for our divorce. ... You were the one I truly want”. “I'm sorry” is all you manage to say. Despite everything his eyes soften slightly as he looks at you. "Sorry doesn't fix everything, you know," he mutters, his voice laced with a hint of pain. “I wasn't thinking, I was jealous of her, I thought she was the one you wanted, and you’ve been with her longer and know her better. I didn't think I stood a chance next to her” Charles's expression softens further as he hears your words. "You thought I didn't want you?" he asks, his voice quieter now. "That I'd rather be with her than you?" He takes a step closer to you, his eyes roaming over your face. "You've really been that blind?" he asks, a hint of disbelief in his tone. "All this time, you really thought I didn't want you?" He reaches out, tentatively taking your hand in his. “You tried to tell me so many times, in so many ways. Yet i never tried to give us a chance” you whisper

Charles nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Yeah, I tried. But you didn't listen," he says, his voice a mixture of anger and resignation. "You were so fixated on the divorce, on this act, that you didn't see the genuine feelings I had for you." You say nothing, you simply just look into his eyes. Charles lets out a sigh, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "Did you really think all those looks, all those little moments between us, were just pretend?" he asks, his voice quiet but laced with a hint of hurt. “I’ve always felt something for you” you finally admit. Charles's breath hitches at your words, his eyes searching your face. "Do you really mean that?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. You nod “I tried to avoid the feelings because I was scared about what the media and your fans would say, and I didn't want to keep up the lie of how we met but I don't care, I don't care anymore because all I know is that I want you”

HIs expression softens further as he hears your confession, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "You idiot," he mutters, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You wasted all this time trying to deny what you really want, all because you were scared of what other people would think?"

You can't help but laugh at your stupid actions. Charles smiles at the sound of your laughter, the tension in the room slowly beginning to ease. "You just had to make everything so complicated, didn't you?" he teases, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. “I won't mess up again” you say leaning into his touch. Charles's eyes hold a fierce determination as he speaks, his hand still resting on your cheek. "I hope not, because I'm not going to let anyone or anything come between us again. No more lies, no more hiding. Just you and me." You smile at his words “I like that idea”. Charles grins at your response, his hand sliding down to cup your chin. "Good," he says, his voice taking on a huskier tone. "Because I've been dreaming about having you all to myself for far too long”.

You feel a sense of desire wash over you as he speaks. Now that both of you have made it clear where your feelings stand, you can finally give in to the attraction you have for him. The desire that you've been trying to convince yourself doesn't exist. “You know… everyone is downstairs so no one is going to interrupt us if we kiss” you tell Charles in a low seductive voice. Charles's grin widens at your suggestion, his eyes darkening with need. "Finally. no interruptions" he responds, his tone matching yours. He pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist as his lips move towards yours. You spent so much time pushing him away so it's only fair that you make the first move. After 3 weeks since the last kiss, your lips meet again. Charles responds eagerly, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. There is a hint of desperation in the way he kisses you, as if he's trying to make up for the time he's lost. His hands slide your lower back, pulling you against his body. Neither of you care about the party downstairs.

The kiss deepens, Charles's tongue tangling with yours as he devours your mouth. The only sound in the room is the mingled gasps and moans as the kiss becomes more intense and passionate. “I need you” you whine as you break the kiss. Charles's eyes widen at your words, a primal desire igniting within him at the needy tone of your voice. He tightens his grip on you, his hands roaming your body without restraint. "You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you to say that" he says as his lips find their way to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. You guide Charles backwards, never breaking the contact of his lips on your skin. You steer him towards the bed, your movements purposeful and full of want. As the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, he pushes you onto the bed, climbing on top of you in one fluid motion. You waste no time, you quickly remove his tie and unbutton his shirt. His breathing quickens at your actions, his body responding eagerly to your touch. His hands roam your body, desperate to once again feel your skin against his. He nips and kisses at your lips as he pushes your dress up over your head, discarding it carelessly on the floor beside the bed.

“Please touch me” you say in between kisses. Charles' eyes darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Oh now you want me to touch you" he says, his voice thick with lust and humor. His mouth continues its descent, his tongue tracing a path over your chest and down to your stomach. His hands move lower, gripping the waistband of your panties, as if silently asking for permission. You eagerly nod watching his fingers quickly push them down over your hips, leaving you bare. His eyes roam over your body, a look of pure hunger in his gaze. “So beautiful,” he whispers. Charles stands up to take off his pants, his eyes watching you intently as he throws them aside. He shifts his body as he comes near you again, pressing himself against you, his skin now flush against yours. His hands wander down to your hips, gripping them possessively as he pulls you closer. You moan at the feeling of having him pressed up against you. Charles smiles at you , his eyes fixated on yours. "Just relax, I've got you." He lifts himself up with one arm, his eyes roaming over your body as he positions himself with your entrance.

You can't help but moan at the feeling of him going inside of you. He looks down at you, his eyes locking on yours as he slowly applies speed, his lips parting slightly as he lets out a gasp. "Are you okay?" he asks huskily, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah” you reply in a shaky breath as you watch him thrust into you. Charles groaned, his head falling back as he felt you on him. “O-oh fuck.” He gasps, his hands automatically moving to your hips guiding your moves.

After moments of continuing like this you feel yourself reaching your high “Charles in gonna…” you say in between your sounds of pleasure. Charles smiles at you “Fuck, me too” he says, his voice desperate. His thrusts become harder making you both reach your climax. He moans against your ear as you move your hips to ride out your high.

“I needed that for so long” you moan as Charles lays next to you, his chest heaving with exhausted breaths. He nuzzles his face into your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your body.

“Could have done this a lot sooner ” he says, his voice hoarse and raw. “Whatever” you say as you chuckle. Charles moves away from your neck, his eyes looking into yours with a warm expression before speaking. “I'm sure this made it clear but i don't want to go back to vegas, i don't want to get divorced” You grin widens at his words, your eyes lighting up with pleasure. “Is that so?” you say, your tone light and teasing. “You’re sure you don’t want to go back to pretending we’re in love?” you joke. Charles laughs at your words “Stop it” he says as he pokes your side. You laugh along with him, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sorry, sorry," you say, your tone unapologetic. "I just couldn't resist. But in all seriousness,” you continue, your expression growing more sincere. “I don't want a divorce either. I want you, all of you. For real this time”.

“No more pushing me away,” he says in a low voice.

You shake your head, your eyes fixed intently on his. "No more pushing you away," you agreed, your voice firm and unwavering. "No more games, no more secrets. Just us, no pretending, no Vegas." You smile as you continue your sentence “But when we meet someone new, and they ask about us. Will we still keep up the lie on how we met?” you ask Charles. He laughs at your question “Well yes, we still can't have anyone finding out the truth”. You nod your head in understandment “Well then there's still one more person we need to lie to”

Charles raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth “Yeah? who?”

“My mom, in New York” You reply smiling

--------------------------

A/N: Finally the end! I really hope you guys enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed and loved writing it. I'm new to the writing community and the love you guys have showed me is amazing and it really motivates me. Thank you <3.

TAGLIST: @tsireyasgf @v4mp1r3bl0g @asparklysoul @sltwins @janeh22 @aleatorio1234 @perfectlycoralsheep thank you for reading, I appreciate it so much :)

#part 3 #charles leclerc #cl16 imagine #formula 1 #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x you #cl16 one shot #cl16 #y/n #female!reader #fluff #smau #angst #charles leclerc fluff #smut

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happilychaengs · 4 months ago

Text

pi(e)ning

a/n: i have not written anything in so long so this might be the worst thing ever, sorry! this really is all over the place

wc: 1975 words

hirai momo x gender neutral reader

"can you just go marry your neighbor already?"

sana's mouth is chock full with blueberry pie, a small moan and a 'god' coming out of her mouth as she keeps taking bites from her fork, "like, this pie – i can't – it's just so good and you got this for free! free has never tasted so good."

"haha." you cut out a slice from the pie, your fork stabbed at the top, "i actually haven't tried this yet."

sana squirms in her seat from the flavors she's shoving in her mouth, her head almost on a swivel as she takes another bite, a tight smile on her face, "you need to, like right now."

you pick up the fork as you take a bite of the pie, the crust crumbling in your mouth as you relish in the sweet,slightly sour, and tart flavor that hits the base of your tongue. sana looks at you in anticipation, her eyebrows raised, “well?”

“it’s – it’s really good.” you laugh in disbelief as you take another bite, “do you want to take this home, actually?”

she gives you a look of wonder, as if you’d just given her a million dollars, “you’re joking – seriously? i mean, are you sure? i wouldn’t mind, but, y’know-”

“yes, i’m serious, sana.” you put down your fork, “momo gives me something new practically everyday now, and i can’t really finish it. i love it all, but it’s sometimes too much for me to eat it all.”

“don’t you think this is a bit excessive?” nayeon rests her head over her roommate’s shoulder, looking at the flour spread all over the kitchen counter, her eyes squinting as a bit flies into her face from her roommate kneading the dough around. she coughs slightly as she steps back, “okay. mind explaining what this is all about, momo? i wouldn’t mind if you cleaned up, but you do this almost everyday and never clean up. i always have to pick up after you.”

“i’m making fresh banana bread for someone.” she lets the dough rest in a bowl as she turns to face nayeon, leaning back on the kitchen counter. nayeon looks confused, “who? because i know it’s not me. we literally always have an empty fridge.”

“it’s – it’s for y/n.” momo turns her head away, staring at the resting dough and avoiding nayeon’s eyes, “are you talking about our neighbor? why? do you like them or something?” nayeon laughs, slightly teasing her, but all she gets is silence. “seriously? how?”

it’s not like momo had any real reason to like you, she just did. she had just opened her bakery, and you so happened to be the first person to try it and to really like it, so it never really stopped considering she figured out you two lived next door to each other. with each and every new pastry she gave you, you accepted it happily, and it made her like you even more.

“i’m… going to guess it has to do with your baking, because you are nonstop giving y/n something from our kitchen.” nayeon wipes the flour off her nose as she walks back to her room, “just please clean up, at least.”

there’s two rhythmic knocks on your door as sana goes to get it since you’re in the shower, her not expecting it to be anything out of the ordinary.

“hi, who is it?” sana chirps as her head pops out from the side of the door, surprised as she sees a woman holding a large bag of bread and a bit of flour on her face. “are you momo?”

momo’s face was full of surprise as she didn’t expect someone else to open the door for her, “uh, yeah. how do you know who i am?”

“y/n told me all about you! thank you so much for the food you always give them! it’s always really good!” sana rains compliments on momo, but momo is more focused on the fact that you have another woman over and it seemed like you two were really close.

“right, um, i – where’s y/n? i just wanted to hand them the banana bread i made.” momo tries to steer away from sana, feeling almost a bit uncomfortable being near her because she doesn’t know what type of relationship you two have, but sana grabs the bag out of momo’s hand, leaving it on the table, “y/n’s in the shower right now, but i can let them know you stopped by? or i could go in and just tell y/n?” okay. so you two were close enough to get into the shower together.

“no, no it’s okay.” momo lets out a nervous chuckle, her head low and her heart cracking. “i hope you two enjoy it. i’ll just leave. i’m kind of in a rush.”

sana nods her head understandingly, “yeah, okay, sorry to hold you up then! thank you again!” she basically shoo’s momo to the door, with no idea how it seemed to her.

“how’d it go?” nayeon is on the couch, flicking through the shows on tv, barely paying attention, “did y/n like the bread?”

“i think… y/n has a girlfriend.” momo drops her bag on the floor, her back slouched over as she plopped onto the couch. nayeon’s focus shifts, “for real?”

“yeah, she opened the door for me since y/n was in the shower, and basically pushed me out the door after i put down the bread.” momo sinks into the couch, a slight pout forming on her lips as nayeon ruffles her hair, “well, at least you tried. how long have you liked y/n anyways?”

“for a few weeks now.” momo says it in a whisper, scared to admit it because she can’t even begin to fathom how dumb she sounded to nayeon right now.

nayeon’s eyes widened, “are you serious? why haven’t you made an actual move then and why am i finding out just now?” she barrages momo with questions as she sinks deeper into the couch, “why have you only been giving y/n free food and not actually saying how you feel?”

“i’m sorry, okay?” momo sighs, “i just… didn’t know when to say it, i mean, we don’t talk a lot – we just exchange a few words, and i guess – it never came up.”

“hirai momo. you are so dumb. i mean it.” nayeon flicks her forehead, a slight ‘ow’ escaping momo’s mouth. “how are you able to start up your own bakery but you can’t even say three little words to our next-door neighbor?”

“hey,” you have a towel on your head as you dry your hair, “what’s up with the bag?” you sit down on your bean bag chair.

“momo dropped by and wanted to give you some banana bread, but you were in the shower so i just told her to leave it here.”

sana takes out a slice as she takes a bite, “mmph! this is really good!” her voice is muffled with the bread in her mouth, “how did you even get momo to deliver you so much food?”

“i don’t know – i went to her bakery before when it just opened and she said i was the first customer to come in. we talked for a bit and we figured out we were neighbors so i guess she wanted to deliver it to me?”

sana looks at you, confused, because that didn’t sound like the full story, “you sure that’s all she did or said? nothing else? because i don’t think that explains it. maybe she likes you.”

“no way,” you laugh, “we’re just neighbors, right?”

“i don’t know…” sana dusts her hands off as she finishes the slice, “she did seem kind of off when she came by – she looked like she really wanted to see you.”

“really?” your voice is laced with curiosity as you sat up, because honesty, you liked her a bit.

“you sound interested.” sana teases, “you totally like her.”

but momo hasn't come back in days since then. you two see each other in passing – obviously, you two are neighbors – but she just gives you a small greeting and a smile, before seemingly getting away from you. maybe she was in a bad mood.

but she avoids you for another week and so obviously too, that you can’t help but be a little worried. sana finds herself laying down on your couch, crashing here again for the third time this week – even if she was your best friend, this was a bit excessive – as her stomach rumbles. “i miss momo. she was good for you.”

“you mean good for you? i can hear your stomach rumbling.”

sana laughs as she rubs her stomach, “fine, i loved the food she gave you, okay? but seriously, what did you do? you make it sound like she hates you or something.”

“that’s the thing, i don’t know. i mean, should i try talking to her? i feel like i fucked up by not saying thank you enough or something.”

“you’re stupid.” she laughs.

“i don’t know, maybe that’s why?”

“i doubt it. just go talk to her about it. who knows? maybe you two will fall in love after that and i can continue getting free food!”

you throw a pillow her way, hitting her face, “you’re dumb.”

momo sees you down the hallway of the apartment complex you two share again as she’s fumbling with her keys in her back pocket, trying to get her door open, but as luck would have it, it falls out of her hand, onto the floor and you’re calling out her name.

“momo! hold on!” you run up to her as she looks up at you, “can we talk?”

momo’s heart beats a little faster, “uh, sure. what do you want to talk about?”

“i feel bad, y’know, for not saying thank you for the food enough, and i was wondering if i did anything wrong?”

she knits her eyebrows in confusion, “no? why would you say that?

“i don’t want you to think i only want the food – because i don’t – but i don’t want my neighbor to hate me and avoid me everytime she sees me.” you give a nervous chuckle.

momo opens her mouth to speak, but she sees her roommate standing a few feet back behind you, throwing up these exaggerated gestures, motioning her to say something. “you didn’t do anything wrong, no, i just - i just felt like i was intruding on you and your girlfriend by always coming over.”

“girlfriend?” now you’re the one confused, “i don’t have a girlfriend?”

“what? then… then who was the girl who opened the door for me last time?”

“that was my best friend, sana. i’ve known her since we were in high school, and she just crashes over sometimes. but why would you feel like you’re intruding…?”

“i…” nayeon urges momo to say it from afar, nodding her head excessively, “i actually liked you for a while, y/n.” she lets out a small sigh, as she turns away for a moment, “i always wanted to say something to you when i came over, but i never got the chance to, and then… i saw sana and i thought you two were dating and i guess i couldn't bring myself to come over anymore so i just stopped and you don’t have to like me back or anything, it’s just-”

“stop, momo,” you let out a small laugh, “i think i like you too.”

“really?” she gasps in disbelief, “so…”

“are you busy right now?”

momo shakes her head, as she smiles, “no, not at all.”

“maybe we can have lunch, then?”

you sound nervous, though momo giggles as she nods her head, “definitely.”

#twice x reader #twice fluff #hirai momo x reader #momo fluff #momo x reader

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nanaminsmoon · 1 year ago

Text

babydaddy!connie x blackfem!reader

a/n: this one made my heart ache a little icl. but i had to put this song because it goes so well😭

pt.2

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, infidelity (reader cheats), connie calls reader; 'ma', 'hermosa', ”es bueno, ma?” ("is it good, ma?"), "quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you” ("you want another kid, hm? [...] tell me, and i'll give it to you"),

wc: 3380

“why’s my daughter telling me you got a boyfriend?”, booming from where its owner was stood at the door, connie’s voice abruptly entered your ear canals to bring your attention to him. after hugging your daughter, you had kept your front door open for connie to come in if he wanted to. and, when he followed you both inside, you had just assumed he was bringing in your daughter’s belongings. even as he stuck around after having placed her bags in her bedroom, his presence was dashed to the back of your mind. now, as your child sat in the garden eating with her aunt, he was demanding your attention as he leant against the doorframe.

“because i do”, your eyes were trained on the soapy dishes in front of you, and they wouldn’t divert as you spoke. meaning you didn’t see the incredulous expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face, as his features scrunched at your straight forward response.

“the fuck you need a boyfriend for?”, he asked. confusion was laced through every word in that sentence to hold it together so it could leave his mouth. barely.

“because we can't fuck as friends forever, connie. at some point we both need to move on, and i have”, you answered, frankly. the decision to coparent came after you and connie decided to break up four years ago. and four long years had been hastened by sunday sunsets spent behind closed bedroom doors when he returned your daughter back to you. meaning that suspicions did rise when the emotions sprawled on your face, at the end of every week, had become more impassive—the lustful glimmer in your irises, dimming to a seemingly more platonic one. yet, connie never said anything, he just assumed you wanted space. that’s not to say that it didn’t bother him, but he knew that he couldn’t beg you to come back to him. as much as he did want to.

because, contrary to popular belief, connie had changed since you two broke up. having heard the news of you having a boyfriend, old connie would’ve had a video of some girl throwing ass on him seared into the back of your eyelids by sundown. but old connie had never developed an understanding of how important his family was, and new connie would lose his life before he lost his girls. yet, these two different versions of the same man still shared one similarity; their love for antagonising you.

“so you're just bringing randoms into the place my daughter sleeps?”, connie exaggerated as he always did, irritation audible in his tone. and you’d roll your eyes at him.

“first off, he's not a random, he's my boyfriend. and second, this is my house, i can bring in whoever i want”, you said, wiping a pan. that term, ’my boyfriend’, was an anvil that sunk connie’s intestines to his feet in a way he had never felt before. it was hard to put a finger on what exact feeling it induced, but he did know that it pressed his dreams, of getting his family back, into grains of sand that would escape his grasp through the growing gaps in his fingers.

“has she met him?”, he asked, cautiously, looking at his sock covered feet in the slippers you had always kept for him. in the past, that had been a gesture that made him feel at home with you; something that made him feel like you still cared for him the way he did you. but now, the slippers felt uncomfortable. like they were growing in size, and the only person capable of wearing them was someone he could never be—like he couldn’t fill them anymore, and you knew that so you had gotten someone else to do it.

“yeah, he came over and cooked us dinner and she loved it.”, you said, tone coming out more braggy than you had hoped. and that hurt connie more than it angered him, but the latter was the only thing he was capable of expressing.

“so what, you gonna marry him?”, those words were abrupt, even surprising connie’s ears. but they’d be met with a scoff from your glossed lips as annoyance built inside you. your love life was none of his concern, and he knew that, so his entitlement infuriated you beyond belief.

“i don't know, connie”, you said, vexed, as you waved him off, “even if i was, why’s that any of your business?”,

“’cause you're the mother of my child. as long as she's here, your business is my business”, the truth in that statement rested in what connie didn’t say. that being, you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with so, whether you liked it or not, his heart had already staked its claim on you. and he needed to know who to fend off, to keep you by his side.

no thoughts spawned in your mind at that statement, so you’d just remain silent as you continued what you were doing. that gave connie enough time to search for straws to clutch at to get you back. but he could only ever draw one. that was the one that placed a small smile on his face as his tongue swiped across his bottom lip; if connie couldn’t win your mind over, he’d try his luck at the one thing that refused to obey the former.

”so we’re done? not even one more time for the road?”, connie’s shoulder pushed his body off the doorframe, before he started making his way toward you. a stutter in your mind would replay that phrase, ’one more time for the road’, until it finally clicked.

“we're not fucking, no”, you said, avoiding eye contact.

“just quickly, ma. i know you miss it.”, connie’s smirk would only widen when his statement received no rebuttal. and it’d stay that way as he walked to stand right behind you—he’d place a hand on either side of you, pushing you right against the counter. all you could muster was a harsh swallow as connie moved closer to you, and his breath would be touching your neck as he spoke, voice lowered.

"you used to call me all the time telling me you ain't never had dick like this. and i know he ain't fucking you good enough for you to forget about me", connie’s lips brushed past your ear. a brief shudder would intensify to wring out any suppressed longing you held for him, producing a moist patch at the front of your underwear. and that was before you could even feel his desperation, to keep you his, pressing into your lower back. once that’d register, you’d have to breathe deeply to release the temptation building within you.

"i'm not cheating on my man, connie", you said, voice shaking. a sigh would fall from connie’s lips, hitting the spot on your neck they planned to cover, before transfiguring into a tingle that explored your back. one of connie’s favourite things about you was your loyalty, so that answer was expected. but he’d still kiss his teeth at the knowledge that it was now being directed toward someone else.

"then leave him", he’d say, an inch away from your neck, before his plump lips would attach to the skin there. a proprietorial mark would be etched onto your skin when connie heard you sigh out in pleasure. the erasure of all his doubts would arrive when you tilted your head to give him better access. and those doubts would then be quashed completely when your hand rose to run your fingers through his buzzcut.

a few more kisses to the neck, combined with connie’s hand venturing into the front of your leggings to rub away all loyalties to your man, affirmed connie’s statements about you missing him. but once you were in the privacy of your bedroom, he could actually feel how much you missed him; your need for him was prominent in the way you tightened around his length like you feared letting him go. this was the first time where fucking you was a welcomed struggle, pulling out of you being a necessity he wanted to avoid. mainly due to the connection of your foreheads, connie couldn’t see anything but you; the noises you made, your scent, the look he could discern in your eyes when they weren’t exploring their sockets, all of it warmed his heart in an infuriatingly delightful way. and there was no way you hadn’t missed him, and the way he knew your body inside out. the way he knew where to kiss as your legs rested over his shoulders, a pillow sat underneath your hips as your nails painted stripes onto the skin on his back. five years ago, connie fucked you in every position he could think of, but separation birthed the need for closeness. so now, whenever you two fucked, it was always in a position that allowed for his eyes to be locked with yours as his tip poked that spot that had made you nut twice already.

”es bueno, ma?”, he asked and you’d nod a reply, pulling a smile from the man above you. you were all he could see, and perhaps that’s why he saw love in everything that surrounded him.

prior to this point in his life, connie’s need to build a family with you had never been a focal point for him. but now it was all he could see; he saw it in the envy that followed him around at the sight of families happily laughing together, he saw it in the ducks dutifully trailing their mother at the pond near your house, and he felt it when the merging of you and your daughter’s giggles made his heart feel swollen in a way he could never soothe. if he had it his way, you’d both be married with four kids living in some mansion somewhere. but when push came to shove, his ideals only ever amounted to short-lived ‘conversations’ when you two were fucking,

”quieres otro hijo, hm? you want a boy or a girl? dime, and i’ll give it to you”, a fucked out mutter would always fall from your lips, and that’s the only answer he could ever get from you. because the answer you gave him any other time, tore his heart into a million pieces he had yet to locate. your boyfriend posed a new challenge for him, so connie would have to tell you how he felt before he lost you forever. feverish kisses would be placed on any skin connie would reach, as his hips sped up. pleasured mumbles would mean nothing to him, because he could feel your body warning him of your release.

”i’m yours, hermosa, just—fuck—nut on it”, he’d instruct, and your body would obey. this man was fucking you so good, you could’ve sworn you felt your soul leave its vessel, to watch you coating connie and the bed underneath you, in your arousal. and connie wouldn’t be far behind—hips losing their rhythm, and low ’fuck’s leaving his mouth before he started kissing you again.

”ifuckingloveyou”, he messily kissed onto your lips and surprise struck you so hard, you didn’t even register your own mouth speaking back to him,

”mmloveyoutoo”, those words would be enough to trigger a twitching in connie’s balls that would empty them, until he was leaking out of you.

the kiss you two shared was bittersweet, both literally and figuratively. not just due to the lingering taste of the results of your aching throat, mixing with the reason why you could still feel his lips wrapping around your clit, but also because connie felt like he was flirting with a dream that could never be realised. but that wouldn’t stop you two from losing yourself in each other and making out for a few minutes. until you’d hear a knock. all movements would be halted, and there’d be silence from behind the door. then winces, and small hisses of discomfort, would fill the space as connie pulled out of you before getting up to put his boxers on. he’d step off the bed, walking over to the door to tend to, who he thought was, his daughter.

”princesa, we’ll be out in a second, okay?”, connie shouted to the other side of the door, but the voice he heard was not the one he was expecting.

“the fuck’s going on?!”, connie’s eyes would dart back to your wide ones, before a smirk would quickly grace his face. it was clear to see that he was trying his very hardest to not burst into laughter, despite your panic being written all over you. disorientation clouded you to the point that you didn’t even realise that the shirt you decided to put on your body was connie’s. but he would. and he wouldn’t say anything, even as you walked to the door to talk to your boyfriend.

”i can explain”, is all you’d manage to get out to your man, before he’d open the door further to find connie sitting himself on the bed, covering himself with the sheets he’d just put on his lower half. the lower half of his face remained smug, but the upper half of it was focused as he watched the scene unfolding in front of him; desperate hands grappling to hold your boyfriend’s arms or hands, as he paced the room, trying to digest what he was seeing. connie’s enjoyment would be short-lived, ending when he heard the angry words your boyfriend was throwing at you.

”shoulda fucked her better, then i wouldna had to do it”, he said, still laid on the bed. the room would fall still once again, and you’d look at him in pleading. he’d shrug, but acquiesce, not saying anything after that comment. that seemed to be the final straw for your boyfriend, because he’d say something about needing to go outside before walking out.

the blustering of infuriated footsteps would fade out as you followed your boyfriend down the hallway to the front door. connie would sit in waiting, leaning against the headboard, as he contemplated what this meant for the both of you, but those thoughts would be cut short at your return. alone. it turns out, no amount of apologies or promises that this will never happen again could convince your boyfriend to stay. and, though that elated connie more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help the lump forming in his throat at the sight of your slumped posture as you sandwiched your lip between your teeth, swallowing pained tears. that lump would block any sly comments he planned to make. in fact, he wouldn’t even speak as he got up to walk to you, hands reaching to pull you closer to him. even as you pushed him away,

”leave me alone”, you chided, quietly. but, no matter how hard you pushed, connie would overpower you to pull you into the warmest hug you’d had in months. its warmth would invite your arms to wrap around him, sobs spilling into his bare chest the second your cheek touched it. not once letting go, connie would pull you back into bed, wrap you in the sheets, before comforting you. relief drowned a certain of him as it knew that he had a chance of getting you back. but the part of him that still had its head above water wrestled with guilt; there’s nothing this man wanted for you than happiness, and seeing his hands be the ones to take it away from you pained him.

the commotion of everything numbed you to your environment, so it would be only a few moments before your distraught sobs would reach the ears of the person you wanted to hear them least. small knocks would bring yours and connie’s attention to the half-open door, and you’d try to get yourself together, but there was only so much you could do to hide the shadows of sorrow reddening your eyes, and creating darkened splotches on connie’s shirt. as soon as you saw your daughter reach up to comfort you, you’d climb off the bed and hug her, feeling your heart start to glue back together when she wiped a tear off your face. both you and connie would instruct her to wait for you in the living room and you’d begin getting dressed properly once you’d hear her run off excitedly.

the both of you would get dressed, and walk down the stairs, in silence. the most connie would provide would be an arm around your shoulder, and a kiss to your temple, which you accepted happily. and, as soon as you were within an earshot of the living room, you’d hear ’the little mermaid’ playing for the nth time, accompanied by the usual harmonisations provided by your daughter’s jovial singing. you’d be admiring the blankets, cushions, and snacks she had set up before you’d be distracted by the rustling of connie putting his shoes and coat on. every fibre of your being would beg you to stop him, but you’d try and convince yourself that he probably had somewhere to be. however, such considerations meant nothing to your hand that was already reaching to grab at his own,

”stay.”, you asked quietly, and his eyes would widen at the request. of course he wanted to stay, but he didn’t think you’d want to spend another minute around the man who had just ruined your relationship. but then once your daughter ran up to him, pouting while asking,

”please~”, his decision would be made for him.

as you watched the movie, you’d notice connie’s eyes fixated on you. at first you thought he was watching your daughter wave her little mermaid doll around but, when you’d turn to check, you’d be met with direct eye contact. his lips would fall agape only to meet again, before they’d open to allow their owner to mouth a belated apology,

”i’m sorry”, his swollen lips would trace out, and a forgiving ”it’s okay” would be mouthed by your own lips. there’d a second where you’d just be staring at each other in mutual love and understanding. it was obvious that this chapter wasn’t finished, not when the authors holding the pens had changed immensely since the day the first page of the book had been written. but small hands would rise to push your faces to face the screen, and connie’s own inability to forgive himself for his actions would shift his eyes to the floor. that’s when they’d narrow in on the slippers that did nothing but breed insecurity. a small voice in his head would ask him if they still felt hard to fill, and admittedly, they still did. yet, looking at them again, he didn’t mind that. though the future still held uncertainties, the feeling of you and your daughter leaning on him, as his arm reached around to embrace you both, filled the gaps of himself he had lost confidence in. because this was all he had ever wanted; to become a person that could be leant on by the people he cared for most. both of you. for as long as his lungs held breath, and for as long as the image of you and your child falling asleep on him every night, was the only one his subconscious could conjure up when his head met his pillow at the end of every day.

#nanaminsmooninc #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #connie springer x black reader #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie smut #aot connie #Spotify

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happytroopers · 10 months ago

Text

Pent Up // Tech x Reader

Summary: After an awkward wake up call from a rather... entertaining... dream. You spend a week trying to distract yourself from your traitorous mind. It doesn't take long for Tech to catch on.

TW: wet dream, brief mentions of erotic things, nothing outright just a lot of build up and tension

somewhere between pg13 and R, originally I was gonna write the smut but then it sat in my drafts for two years so congrats you're getting a fade to black

18+ MDNI for sure tho

A hand shook your shoulder, shaking the last sensation of your dream away and forcing you awake with a start. A whine died on your lips as your bleary eyes snapped open to meet the eyes of the object of aforementioned dream. Your already blushed cheeks went even hotter as Tech looked down at you in mild concern and heavy curiousness. He was put together, as always, still in his armor except for his helmet. Laying in your bunk in disheveled pajamas, the contrast wasn’t lost on you. You were acutely away of how warm you were, how much you had been squirming in your sleep, how your thighs were clenching, and extremely aware of the slick warmth dampening your pajama bottoms.

As your mind reeled from the… riveting dream, it switched gears to run overdrive on how to save yourself the embarrassment of being caught having a wet dream. Caught by the one soldier you were mentally assaulting in your sleep… Under Tech’s curious gaze you wanted to melt- and not in the fun way his gaze usually made you want. How loud were you that you not only alerted the genius, but you drawn him away from his projects- something that usually took an explosion or ship crash to do?

Of course Tech didn’t look uncomfortable in the least, simply waiting for your answer as he removed his hand from your shoulder so you could scramble up into a sitting position, keeping the blanket firmly around your lower half as you batted sleep mussed hair from your face. The only consolation was that while you and Tech hit the rack, Wrecker and Hunter were supposed to be flying while Crosshair filled out his fair share of his share of field reports.

Tech gave you a once over as you collected yourself, eyebrows creasing as you tried to get your breathing under control.

"Are you alright, (y/n)?" He asked slowly, watching you curiously as your knees bowed together under your blanket. If you’re eyes weren’t screwed shut from embarrassment, you would’ve seen his Adam’s apple bob at the sight. You cleared your throat to busy trying not to focus on the way his armor accentuated all of his best features in the dim light of the bunks, hoping your voice would maintain some level of propriety.

"Y-yeah, yeah, Tech, I’m alright. ‘M Fine." You nodded just a little too quick, voice just a hair from being even, so in an attempt to feel out how much damage you did to your dignity in your sleep, you added in false casual airs, "Why do you ask?"

Tech's eyebrow went from creased to quirked, running a hand over his face, "You were tossing and turning, groaning like you were-"

You didn’t think you could take him continuing or the thought of him watching you so you went with the first excuse that came to mind, "In pain, like I was in pain."

Voice rushed, your own eyebrows furrowed at what you were saying. Tech looked confused as well- neither of you knew where this was heading.

"Pain?" He repeated, voice unbelieving but worried, "Are you…injured? Why didn’t you tell me earlier."

Well, that lie wouldn’t work either. Besides your inability to control your brain, there was nothing wrong with you. And if you couldn’t come up with something, Tech would insist on checking you over. You couldn’t look him in the eye at the moment much less let him touch you after your dream. Wait, dream!

"Injured? No, no sir." You cringed, you had never once called Tech ’sir’ since you met him, and judging by his… reaction, now wasn’t the time to start, "I had… a nightmare. Yeah, real bad nightmare. Probably gonna talk to the Civ. Enlistment shrink about it, yep."

Your nodding didn’t do much to convince the Tech, as he just watched your rambling, with a concerned furrowed brow. Running a hand over your face, flung your blanket off your legs quickly as you swung them over the side of your bunk- the middle one. Just high enough that you had to jump, but low enough someone tall like Tech could still look down at you if you were laying down. Too much laying in the dark room with the man (literally of your dreams) had your thoughts spiraling along with your white hot embarrassment- fight or flight was kicking in and you were choosing flight.

Pushing off the bunk, your bare feet hit the cold floor but you weren’t prepared for how jelly-like your legs would be. Before you could even hit your knees, Tech caught you against his chest. He was warm, and the hopeless romantic in you didn’t fail to notice how you fit perfectly against him or how easily he held you steady, and his chest was firm. Oh stars, don’t let him feel how hard my nipples are. Tech was leaner than his brothers, but no less stronger than his brothers, something that slipped your mind occasionally- only now, as your palms were splayed over his chest it wasn’t so easy to forget.

His large hands easily encased both of your arms, images flashed through your mind- but it wasn’t your arms he had been holding in your dreams. Eyes fluttering, you shook your head, backing away from the genius as soon as you were sure you wouldn’t fall over. Tech ignored your stammered apologies though you were sure cheeks were practically glowing in the dim light, "(Y/N), are you sure you’re alright? You feel warm, you might have a fever. I think I should-"

You were pretty sure if you spent one more moment with his hands on you, you would break every single rule about soldier civilian interrelations in the books so you all but wrenched away from him, earning a confused look as you grabbed the first jacket and pair of pants you could find.

"No time, I’m perfectly fine- hey that’s almost a rhyme-" You stammered, snatching your shoes, "Look at the time, things to fix, no fever here."

Tech tried to protest but you were already down the hall before he could even grab a medscanner off his belt.

I’ve been on this ship too damn long.

You thought to yourself, splashing water on your face. If the interaction with Tech wasn’t enough to keep you from sleeping again, the lingering feelings and memories from your dream kept your skin tingling and your mind swirling around one resident genius. So you gave up sleep.

Instead, you decided to work, preferably underneath floor panels where engine parts were thrumming with power - where Tech wouldn’t run into you unless he tried. Bonus points for being far away one of the few places on the ship your dream hadn’t contaminated.

If he can’t see me, I can’t think about- images of lips trailing across skin, pressing into your thighs, thighs over a lean shoulder. You smacked hands on either side of your cheeks to physically halt that train of thought, What is wrong with me?!

The answer was simple, you were the only woman on a ship of five men, one of which you pretty sure you were in love with, had been on active duty nonstop for weeks and you didn’t even have your own room- no action, no breaks, no privacy.

You worked for a couple hours straight, too embarrassed show your face again. Until, you finally surfaced top pass through the fresher. Clean face, clean thoughts, right? Growling in frustration, you ran a dry towel over your face before shoving your arms back into your work jacket.

You were so caught up in your own thoughts, you didn’t even think twice when the fresher door swished open- it was a communal fresher, it wasn’t uncommon for one or more of the Batch to share the space with you at a time. So common in fact, you didn’t even look up from your routine- adjusting your hair, swiping cosmetics on.

As you peered into the mirror, internally giving yourself a half pep talk, half scolding, the last face that you wanted to see appeared in the reflection behind you.

"Kriff!" You yelped, startled, spinning around so quickly you risked whiplash, instinctively your hands flew to balance yourself against the counter, the cool metal grounding your feverish skin. It was Tech behind you, in his blacks with a towel over his shoulder, watching you in confusion as you met his eyes briefly before your face went scarlet, your eyes dropped- resting anywhere but his. "Tech! Good morning- night… afternoon? No time in space, am I right?"

The genius’s eye brows crinkled, which you would’ve noticed if you weren’t so busy staring at the floor. Tech took another step forward, bending slightly so he could look at your face and eyes narrowing. He was close enough to touch, the smell of mechanic grease, GAR issue soap, and something so inherently Tech flooded your senses as he asked, "You didn’t get anymore sleep, did you? Are you sure you’re alright, (Y/N)?"

Another slew of images flashed through your mind, long fingers tilting your chin up, and the last time you were pressed against a counter it wasn’t from this angle, ‘is this alright?’… It was then you realized with his new position, your floor gaze had turned into staring at his abdomen, where his blacks clung to him leaving very little to the imagination. You forced your eyes up to his.

Between his scent and your own traitorous thoughts, your throat constricted, eyes widening and nostrils flaring slightly, "‘m fine. Gotta go, things need fixing."

With that, you ducked away from him and quite literally fled the scene for the second time in a matter of hours. Tech watched you go, head tilting to the side.

"I don’t understand civilians."

——

Ridiculous, You thought. I’m an adult, I should be able to control myself.

The bolt you were tightening popped out of the panel it was supposed to be holding together.

“Dank Farrik!" You growled, snatching it back and attempting to shove it into place. The first time it skewed to far to the left, and next swaying to the right, and the third it was too far up. Irritated, in rapid succession, you slammed the bolt into the metal over and over- despite it never going into the hole.

A certain part of your dream popped into your mind.

Don’t think about slamming- or holes. You quickly corrected yourself, but didn’t stop your incessant sla- jamming.

"I thought being a trained engineer meant knowing how to do something a bit more… technical than that." A drawling voice appeared over your shoulder, the bolt getting plucked out of your fingers and plugged into the ho- opening on the first try.

"Crosshair." You breathed in recognition, irritation still lacing your tone as you looked over your shoulder. The stir in your stomach thinking it might be Tech fading away into not quite relief, but something less… stirring. The marksman was leaning against the wall you were working on, it wasn’t surprising he sought you out. Aside from Tech, you were close with Crosshair- an odd friendship that no one really understood. "I thought you were next on nav rotation.”

“Tech came to the cockpit with a pretty interesting concerns. He switched shifts with me, said he had too much to think about to sleep. So, he’s up top with Hunter." The marksmen shrugged, critical eyes giving you a once over as you blushed- a more and more common occurrence.

"Yeah, we all have bad dreams sometimes." You huffed, a low blow, but if anyone could take a mean comment it was Crosshair. The nightmares were kind of a sensitive spot for most clones, but was there anyone on this ship that hadn’t already heard of your sleep... issues?

You assumed that once he got his odd version of teasing in, he would move along but Crosshair didn’t go any further than the nearest crate so he could sit down and pop a tooth pick in his mouth. You allowed him two minutes of staring before snipping, "Is there something you needed?”

"Not me. Tech wanted you to help him with something about reverse thrust-“

"I’m busy." You clipped quickly cutting off Crosshair’s words, wrenching the bolt so quickly that the metal scraped. Your fingers were shaking as you tucked hair behind your ears, clearing your throat, you elaborated, "Tech can handle them himself, he’s, ah, perfectly adept. I’m incredibly busy here.”

Crosshair lifted a single brow, looking at the squeaky cupboard panel you were working on. Clearly a bottom of the list kind of task, "You are acting weird. He might be oblivious, but he always notices you.”

"I am not acting weird." You snapped but your voice had a quirk to it, what did Crosshair mean by that? You filed that away for later, "Unless you have something to put on my to do list, I’m busy because��I’m fine, Cross.”

"Riiiiight, completely normal, I’ll let him know.”

You watched him go before looking at your rather shoddy wrench-bolt job. Sighing, you set to work undoing the crooked bolt, Maybe I am a little pent up.

So started a week of awkwardness between you and Clone Force 99’s resident genius. And it wasn’t long before the rest of the batch began to catch on. Not that you were exactly subtle about it.

Any time Tech entered a room, your eyes would go wide and a flush would creep up your neck. If you were speaking to someone else, the moment you saw him you would start stuttering or just stop all together. Sometimes it was fluttery nervousness, and other times you just got distracted by his presence. But always, unless actively in a firefight, it would only take about five minutes before you’d shake your head and escape the room like a gundark out of hell.

Bright side, you spent so much time avoiding Tech you had made it to the bottom of your prioritized to-do list for the first time since joining Clone Force 99. Down sides, it was getting harder to avoid him, and as mentioned earlier, the others were starting to notice- plus, even if you to do list was getting slim, all the work was shoddy at best. When you weren’t actively avoiding him, all you could do was stare at Tech like a lovesick (re: hormonal) schoolgirl.

Crosshair had caught you staring at Tech on multiple occasions, typically flicking his toothpick at you to get you to stop. He would roll his eyes but at least he was quiet about it. He’d just tease you whenever he caught you alone, constantly reminding you of your embarrassment. If you weren’t so preoccupied with Tech, you’d be glad- his teasing his own way of accepting you into the group. But you were preoccupied, so usually, you’d huff dramatically throwing (and missing) the toothpick back in his direction.

There was the incident where Hunter himself had to order you to go with Tech on a mission, something that had never been an issue before as you usually preferred working with the genius. Subsequently, you were so high-strung that you put your complete focus on rewiring a door panel. So much focus, in fact, that Tech himself had to pull you out of the way of a super battle droid’s fire. He had pushed you against a wall and completely covered you with his body while Crosshair took care of the battle droid. Had it not been for the smoking blaster shot in the wall where you had previously been working, you would have melted when Tech so tenderly asked if you were alright. Like a helpless damsel, all you could do was stare up into the goggles of his helmet for a moment before nodding demurely. Then, so frustrated with yourself you had to walk away from the genius before you could give Hunter a reason to transfer you.

Tech, himself, had decided you were obviously upset about something and spent more time than usual trying to get you alone. He’d sit down across from you while you ate, which resulted in an awkward silence and you abandoning your barely touched food. Find you while you brushed your teeth- it had been embarrassing when you accidentally choked yourself with the toothbrush because you’d been too busy ogling him in his blacks. And if you hadn’t been so focussed on saving yourself from any additional embarrassment, you would have noticed the worried expression start to slip into a more hurt category whenever you’d literally run away from him with a lame, short excuse.

Then there was the time when Wrecker had been speaking to you, explaining how his helmet’s comms unit was shorting out after a hit in battle. You were supposed to be listening to him, figuring out from his description of the sound what the issue was and how to fix it. But over his shoulder, your eyes had landed on Tech and your breath had hitched in your throat as you watched him unfasten his armor. Like a teenager watching a strip tease, you shifted your weight from foot to foot, "Are you even listening to me?"

Wrecker’s booming voice sounded more distant that it should considering you were fiddling with his helmet, but it alerted Tech who looked up from his chest piece. His eyes immediately found yours, and you looked away quickly. After promising Wrecker you’d look into it, you took the helmet before escaping down to the cargo hold, thankful Tech didn’t follow you this time.

You might actually have too request a transfer at this rate.

It was Hunter that confronted you about it. He’d noticed your distraction, your anxious demeanor, the decline in your quality of work, and that’s just the things he noticed outright. He saved some of your pride by not mentioning everything he could smell or hear. Instead taking the role of scolding boss. A role he played expertly, judging by the exceedingly dissapointed way he said your name before pressing further.

"You’re better than this. What’s up with you?" He had asked, having followed you after you slipped away from Tech yet again. He had found you cleaning the brand-new air filters in the cargo hold.

"Nothing’s up with me, Hunter." You shrugged, hoping he would drop it. He didn’t.

"Really? ‘Cause you’ve been making rookie mistakes. You were assigned to us because you don’t do that." The sergeant reminded you, crossing his arms over his chest. You were offended to say he had a point.

"Just going a little stir crazy, Sarge." You sighed. Hunter shook his head, clapping a hand onto your shoulder.

"Do us all a favor and just tell him." He requested, shaking his head as he turned to leave, "It’s a small ship to be stir crazy on, and neither of you are subtle."

You watched him go, first embarrassed at being caught- knowing what Hunter could hear, smell, and infer, that he chose not to complain about- but then your mind fixated on something else.

"Hunter. What do you mean by ‘neither’?"

___

You were grateful for the planet’s scorching sun, some unnamed backwater (despite the lack thereof) planet that simply had been the nearest Republic friendly refuel/ maintenance station after you deduced the Havoc Marauder wouldn’t make it back to Kamino with the navigation calibration malfunctioning like they were, lest you hyper speed into a black hole. After you’d made your deduction, you had almost combusted when Tech had leaned over your shoulder, breath grazing your ear as he checked over your work at Hunter’s request. You would’ve been offended if you weren’t so busy gaping like a schoolgirl at Tech’s side profile so close to your face.

’Neither of you are subtle.’ The sergeant’s words played through your mind for the hundredth tune.

Like, for instance, as you sat in the cockpit, you were supposed to be running diagnostics on the rather shifty new calibrator and modifier Hunter had procured from the maintenance station’s ‘buy, sell, trade’ front room. It didn’t have to be perfect, it just had to get you from dust ball point A to rainy, Kaminoan point B.

But instead, you were distracted. Which should really be the summary of the past week of your life. Specifically, you were distracted by Tech’s legs. Long, armor clad, muscled, his leather side holsters clinging to the white composite as they splayed out from under the Marauder’s dash.

You never exactly forgot how tall Tech was, he towered over you even with his usually hunched posture. But, with his top half hidden underneath the console it was a reminder at just how long his legs were. Your breath caught in your throat as his hips lifted, legs tensing as metal groaned. Something snapped before Tech tossed a rusted piece of metal away from himself. The way his thighs clenched and unclenched with the effort made your entire body tense as well, you hadn’t noticed your straying focus until the electroprod zapped your hand. Fortunately, Tech’s voice drowned out your quiet yelp.

"I have found our problem." He announced, grabbing a tool off of his belt. So preoccupied with his long legs, you blinked slowly at his long fingers as they traced up his thigh to find the right tool.

"Oh? have you?" You breathed, after realizing you hadn’t answered. You shook your head, forcing yourself back to your task. You corrected your own work, the small electro prod in your hand zapped at the calibrator, mostly to see if it could handle any sort energy current. Tech had started rambling about some Acid spitting bugs the ship had picked up on Ethesda IV, apparently the coating on the calibrator was similar to their main food source. Acid spitting bugs should’ve been a turn off, but how his voice stopped and started and strained and grunted as he periodically tore out rusted pieces outweighed the bugs.

“And the calibrator? Is it satisfactory?” He asked, hips twisting as he continued working under the dash. Satisfactory? Nothing about the past weeks had been satisfactory but that wasn’t what he asked. He emerged just enough to hold his hand out.

“It’ll do.” You hummed as the diagnostic ran somewhere between yellow and green. You stood, keeping a respectable distance between you as you handed him the small piece of equipment, “I could use an extra set of hands down here, would you?”

You were digging through your mind for another lame excuse until you saw Hunter peek around the door frame of the cockpit, a look someplace between warning and scolding crossing the sergeant’s face. So, you sighed.

“Of course, where do you need m-e?” You nodded, noticing your words as they caught in your throat. You cleared it and crouched down beside the soldier. He paused for a moment, even his feet halted their slight movement until he cleared his throat as well.

“Beside me, I need you to hold the calibrator in place as I wired it in.” Tech answered you, staying half obscured but twisting his body so his hips stayed flat but he was laying on his ribs. You swallowed around nothing, sighing flatly as you wiggled under the dashboard beside him, “A bit closer, so I can reach around you.”

Stiff and rigid, you slowly inched closer to him until you were close enough for one of his arms to snake under your waist and pull you all the way to him. You choked out a yelp. Just as easily as he’d pulled you to him, he propped you just enough so his shoulder and chest could slot underneath your back.

Under the dash there was barely enough room for this position, so it wasn’t possible to keep yourself propped up unless you wanted your nose pressed to the exposed wiring he was working on. So, you had no choice but to forced yourself to at least half relax against him. Your back to his chest, his face right next to yours so the light on his goggles could illuminate the slot where the calibrator belonged, one of his knees twisted under yours leaving you caged between the legs you’d been staring at for so long. His even breaths were fanning over your cheek, the two of you practically puzzle pieced together. He retracted the arm from underneath your waist and moved himself accordingly so that arm instead went under your neck, further trapping you against him.

“Apologies, though I trust I don’t need to explain to you what happens if this comes loose during light speed travel.” He explained, though you couldn’t see how his analytical eyes watched you carefully as he pressed the calibrator back into your hands and guided them to the correct spot, “Perfect, just there.”

His fingers left your wrist and began the process of wiring the calibrator into place. You were grateful for his armor, even if your couldn’t ignore his scent and warmth all around you, you were positive if you could feel his muscles moving underneath you you’d have to stick your hand in the power source to keep from committing a serious breech of civilian-solider contact etiquette. Just a snap of his hips… placed just under the round of your ass…

“You’re shaking, is everything alright?” Tech’s voice shocked you out of your thoughts. You flinched, almost jerking the half connected calibrator right back out of the dash. You tried thinking of a reason, but your voice seemed caught somewhere between your heart and throat. So you settled for a vague hum.

“Mhm.”

“Would you hand me the microwelder? It’s on the right side of my belt.”

Even your breaths were shaking as you used one hand to keep the calibrator in place, and used the other the blindly reach down between the two of you. Your fingers grazed against the composite of the armor on his thigh, overshooting your aim for his belt. For the first time, he tensed as well. Using nothing but touch, you worked your way up, trying to keep your touch as light as possible as it worked over his holsters and to the tools hanging from his belt. You put all your focus on your mechanical knowledge, deducing the tools by shape- data scomp, electoprod, multitool, electrical tape… microwelder. You almost cried in relief, jerking your hand away as soon as you’d unclipped it. The slight graze of your finger tips against his glove palms felt the same as sticking your fingers in the power source. Tech’s shoulders adjusted, jostling the both of you. Though he didn’t struggle to move you at all, his voice sounded ever so slightly strained as he used the microwelder to hold the wires in place, “Almost there, keep doing what your doing.”

Kriff, what the hell was wrong with this man?

“There. That should do it.”

You wiggled out from the dash so fast that you almost didn’t register his hands on your waist assisting you. Almost. Tech watched after you, the curiosity in his eyes turning into something more akin to understanding as you slipped into the fresher.

—

You had never been so grateful to touchdown on Kamino. After the longest week of your life on probably the smallest ship you could’ve been assigned to, you were ready for some much needed space. And the privacy of the usually empty civilian barracks sounded like the perfect retreat. Kamino was the one republic stronghold that didn’t have a shortage of workers, they didn’t need a civilian enlistments to lighten the load when they could hand the tasks off to Cadet’s and call it a learning experience. Usually you found Kamino to be lonely, only seeing the boys at meal times, but this time you were chomping at the bit, praying to the Force or whatever other entity out there that the bunks would be empty as usual.

As soon as the Marauder touched down in the hangar, you were down the loading steps before it even finishing descending. You finished your debriefs in record time and skipped dinner in favor of returning to the Havoc Marauder to start fixing some of your shoddier than usual workmanship in addition to typical post-mission ship maintenance since your bunk would be the first place Tech might look for you.

"I thought I would find you here.”

You physically jumped when Tech’s calm voice called out from the ship’s entrance, hitting your head on the cockpit’s console you were working under. Cursing under your breath, you scuttled out from under the console. Tech was leaning against the entrance to the cockpit, watching you like a wild animal who might spook. You guessed that wasn’t too far off from the truth judging by the already rising heat to your face and the way your eyes danced around to anywhere but his face.

"You missed dinner." He informed you when you didn’t respond, rubbing your head as you closed the panel you had been working on and pulled yourself up to your knees.

"Oh, did I?" You asked in faux concern as if you hadn’t purposely skipped communal dinner. Suddenly, you realized you were looking up to him from your knees and your nearly choked on the recycled air your were breathing. You scrambled up to your feet, nervously smoothing out your clothes as you momentarily met Tech’s eyes before purposely pointing your own gaze else where- the blinking lights around the cockpit very interesting. In your peripheral, you saw his eyebrows furrow, face hardening as you leaned back against the console.

"Have I done something to bother you?" He asked, suddenly. Moving a bit closer to you, he froze when you leaned even further away.

"Not a thing, Tech. Why do you ask?”

One of his eyebrow quirked behind his goggles, telling you he didn’t believe you for a moment. Tech might be oblivious about somethings, but he always knew when you were lying to him, "You have not looked me in the eye, much less spoken to me since…”

He trailed off, looking to you to finish his thought. Your rose tint flashed ruby, redder than the shield button blinking on the console behind you. Yep, time to escape.

"Listen, Tech, I really don’t-" You chuckled dryly, moving to squeeze past him.

"Have time for this? I think you do." Tech shook his head, sidestepping so his larger frame immediately cut off your exit. Bumping into the composite chest piece of his armor, you stammered something akin to an excuse as you tried to squeeze past you again. The genius repeated his action, this time catching you by bracing his hands on either of your arms and holding them gently to your side to keep you in place.

Now, you were forced to look up at him, trying to ignore how much skin his longs fingers managed to cover. You wondered if he could feel your erratic pulse under your skin. He observed your face for a moment, from the tint in your cheeks, the quickness of your breath, to part of your lips. He muttered mostly to himself but you caught it, "Dramatic dilation of the eyes, heightened pulse, shallow breathing, erratic behavior.”

Once he finished his list- or maybe stopped listing aloud for your pride’s sake- he cleared his throat, releasing his grip one your arms so you could take a hesitant step back. Your mind was screaming at you to create some distance, but your thudding heart made it hard to force yourself to move. Tech wasn’t finished with you yet though, his chocolate yes narrowed on you before softening as he continued, "Hunter informed me that you didn’t have a ’nightmare’, as you said.”

Yep, you were going to spontaneously combust if the ground didn’t open up and swallow you first- either option was preferable to the turn in conversation. Hell, spontaneous separatist invasion would be less painful.

"Listen, Tech, I really-" You started, but silenced yourself when you saw the way he adjusted his stance. Shoulders broader, chin dipping lower, one leg moving forward…. if you were any closer it would be between your legs.

"He also had a few theories about the content of said dream, one in particular that interested me." He continued, voice dipping as he continued to stalk towards you until the back of your thighs hit the control deck, forcing you to half lean half sit on the panel. Your backside pressed a couple buttons, managing to conveniently kill the overhead lights and close the door to the bridge in one fell swoop. Whoever was in charge of the force, you wanted to have a firm talking to because you’re heart couldn’t take much more of this. "You’re in your prime, in multiple adrenaline and endorphin inducing situations, surrounded by 4 men… a healthy drive is nothing to be so embarrassed of.”

Your own voice wasn’t quite a sure, almost choked as you nodded, "Gl-glad we covered that, Tech.”

"I also know, from my research, that the easiest way to resolve this is to act on it.”

Your mind actually went blank the moment the word sunk in. You weren’t sure, but there was a large likelihood you just stood there and gaped at Tech like a fish. He waited, eyes analyzing you from behind the goggles. One moment passed, and then two before you spoke.

"Act on it…" You repeated slowly, butterflies melting from your stomach, pooling elsewhere, "Like.. you want to act on it with me?”

Tech closed the distance, his hands on you again. One at your hip and one gracing your hair, "We really were as oblivious as Hunter said.”

The armor on his hips pressed into your soft flesh, his long diligent fingers trailing down your arm, "You can tell me to stop.”

Your eyes had be following his fingers down, your own twitched and laced into the leather straps that held his holsters to his thighs as if that would tether him to you, "Please don’t.”

A ghost of a smile went across his face before he startled you, picking you up swiftly and depositing you in the pilots seat. You weren’t quite sure of the logistics of this decision until he knelt down in front of you, kissing your lips first and yet not long enough for your liking. You chased his mouth with yours, but he pulled back, focussing down to your belt.

“Now, tell him. How did these dreams of yours go?”

---

as usual half edited so excuse the typos

#love u tech #sorry this sat in my drafts for two years #tbb x reader #tbb tech x reader #Tech x reader #clone wars x reader #tbb tech x you #tech x you #tech imagine

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 7 months ago

Text

i couldn't stand you - m. bunting

summary: (slow burn enemies to frenemies to friends etc / f!reader x mb) three years: arguments, truces, break-ups, moving houses...michael bunting wasn't nearly as irritating as you'd initially expected.

warnings: swearing, consumption of alcohol, reader is a pens fan, scenes with eating involved, reader is a chef, I PROMISE THE WRITING GETS BETTER THE MORE YOU READ (toronto to carolina sequence my fave <3), sid being an obliviously adorable cockblocker, angst/pining, fluff, the ending is so unfinished and doesn't do the 20k justice at all...(i lost inspiration)(but i might edit it in the future/do an alternate ending)

a/n: i got inspiration from this from that tom welling hug in cheaper by the dozen

In all honesty, you hadn’t really been paying much attention to Ellis, which kind of defeated the entire purpose of even stepping into the bar. Taylor had wanted you to meet her new boyfriend, and it had barely taken all of five minutes of being in his presence to deduce that he was not only a nice guy, but clearly liked her a lot, was funny, the whole works, etc, etc. Only, your attention had been (completely against your will) stolen by the…idiot sitting next to you.

You didn’t really know what else to call him. An impatient dick? That was also fitting. A bad driver? There wasn’t a 100% certainty in that statement, but it felt fitting given the incident from earlier that morning.

Nevertheless, when you’d clocked each other, the only empty space being that on the bench right next to him, there was no doubt he recognised you too. He’d rolled his eyes and scoffed into his beer, and you’d sat down rather aggressively and dropped your bag on the floor, downright refusing to look at him.

Hence, the intervening from Ellis, with his polite smile and countenance, a complete contrast to aforementioned impatient dick sitting on your left. Taylor had raised a brow, a silent question on her face but you’d simply shaken your head and accepted the cocktail she’d already ordered with a grateful smile.

“I’m confused.” Ellis muttered, leaning his head on one hand, eyes darting confusedly between you and Michael Bunting, Maple Leafs player apparently, “Do you two know each other?”

You shook your head, sipping your cocktail. Judging from the silence next to you, Micheal had done the same thing, neither of you too eager to explain anything. It wouldn’t have been a big deal. In fact, if the subject hadn't been poked and prodded further, you’d have probably been fine with it, maybe even accepted the fact that you were going to have to spend however many hours with him for the sake of your friends.

Who knew? Maybe you’d have eventually gotten past this pre-established dislike for one another, but Taylor was never really one for ignoring gossip when it was sitting in front of her – a trait that you rather found entertaining until you were the victim.

“What, so it’s dislike at first sight, or something?” She asked, eyeing the two of you with more intrigue than you were comfortable with.

In fact, her eyes seemed to shimmer like a greedy shark when you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, briefly glancing at the man on your left.

He was rolling his eyes. And you didn’t care to even guess if it was at you or if it was at Taylor, but with the morning you’d had – because of him – you turned back to her with more conviction this time.

“Pretty much, yeah.” You shrugged.

Taylor scoffed in disbelief, sharing a look with Ellis, “Why?”

“Because she’s a shit driver.”

You gaped, head snapping to Michael with appal. He was frowning in a way that just exuded arrogance. He actually thought he was right – the nerve.

“I am not–”

“Oh, yes you are.”

“The traffic in front of me was at a complete standstill, what was I supposed to do–”

“They were moving–”

“Oh, please. You were just in a rush because someone clearly forgot to set an alarm this morning–”

“I was not in a rush–”

“Then what was the reason for honking at me?”

“You flipped me a birdie!”

“You honked for no reason – who even does that?”

“You flipped me a fucking birdie!”

“After you honked!”

“You were too slow, you weren’t even looking at the road.”

“Yeah, because God forbid I skip a song in a traffic jam.”

He scowled, but said nothing else, sharing a rather irritated glance with Ellis across from him.

You, however, were a little different: sure, your jaw was ticking, your pulse was higher than usual from his stress-inducing attitude, but the first thing you did was share a wide-eyed glance with Taylor, whose jaw had dropped. You rarely fought with people, let alone in public spaces. In fact, the last time you’d bickered like that was when you and Taylor were little and arguing over who got to marry which celebrity from the magazine in make-believe play – but that was exactly all it had been: make-believe.

This was real life, and when you argue like that in real life, people tend to stare. You could feel strangers’ eyes boring into the side of your face and your cheeks flamed against your will. Add that onto the fact that Ellis – who you’d never met before, and were intent on setting a good first impression – had just witnessed you argue with his best friend? You were nothing short of mortified.

“Right.” Ellis sighed, scratching the back of his head, and all three pairs of remaining eyes sitting at the table zipped to him for some form of guidance as to what to do next, “So, now that everyone’s introduced…another round?”

There were muted expressions of agreements, and even just looking at Taylor, you could tell that she was about to slip out and join Ellis at the bar, even after your pleading.

You watched her go sadly, your hands tucked under your thighs, trying desperately to ignore the other presence. You weren’t sure how you’d feel even looking at him – didn’t know if you could. Not only for the embarrassment, but for the sheer…eugh of having to look at him.

Blue eyes, brown hair – not too dark. Apart from that, your mind was drawing a blank.

He cleared his throat. You ignored it.

“What’re your first thoughts on Ellis for Taylor, then?” He mumbled, half-heartedly trying to engage in conversation, and it was because you knew he was only doing it to try and ease some of the tension for Ellis that you turned to face him.

The flare of irritation that presented itself felt like an allergic reaction to simply looking at him, but you swallowed, trying to paste on a nonchalant expression. You could do this. You just had to stare at the blank spot on the wood just a little bit off from his face.

Only, he seemed to take your lack of expression and interest as something else, because he tilted his head towards you fractionally, a rather condescending look on his face.

“Your instincts?”

Instincts? You had instincts – not necessarily about Ellis and what it was Michael was asking about, but you had them. And maybe it was the patronising glare, maybe it was the day’s frustration, maybe you were just tired and needed someone to take it out on, but you ignored his context for the question.

“My instincts?” You repeated, and he nodded, eyes squinting slightly, “That you’re full of shit.”

***

Usually you’d have no issue avoiding Michael when both of your presences were dubbed mandatory to these kinds of things: there was space, there were people – no reason to talk or even look in each other’s directions.

Only, this time, Ellis’s birthday party, somehow the invitation had been extended to you and the get-together was small. Intimate. Maybe seven people in total, not including Ellis himself. And because Ellis was Ellis, a party meant drunk games – and if not drunk, certainly alcohol-induced.

And to your bitter astonishment, the only two people left without split-second partners for a rough game of charades was…you and Michael. In theory, it shouldn’t have been much of a shock: it was inevitable for Ellis and Taylor to pair up together, and you were Taylor’s plus one (even though Ellis had told you himself he wanted you there), and it had become increasingly obvious throughout the evening that Michael didn’t know anyone but Ellis and Taylor; everyone else seemed to have gone to school together and jumped into pairs pretty quickly.

Needless to say, when you’d looked around the room and locked eyes with an equally disgruntled Michael, the two of you hadn’t broken eye contact as you’d downed whatever was remaining in your glasses and immediately reached for a refill.

Yet, for all your displeasure in the pairing, there was an odd satisfaction in knowing that you’d both absolutely thrashed the living daylights out of everyone else. It scratched a competitive itch inside of you, and against your will, you felt yourself softening up to him. His grin had become less irritatingly smug when he was directing it at you after a speedy guess, and his failure to hide his equally competitive edge through the half-smirks directed at his lap when other couples failed were more endearing than grating.

(You just blamed the alcohol.)

Although, probably just as shocking as that turn of events, Taylor and Ellis were awful at charades. They’d gotten one word right in the allotted time, and although they’d tried to hide it, no one was completely ignorant to their harsh whisperings to each other and pointed gestures. Or the confused glances they seemed to direct straight towards you and Michael, who, unlike everyone else, were sitting side by side on the carpet, a sizable distance between each other and managing to neither look or speak apart from when it was your turn.

It was remarkable, really, that two strangers could guess each other’s frantic motions easier than people who knew each other in arguably the most intimate ways. It felt like a test of compatibility, and Ellis and Taylor knew they were failing – hence, in your head, said compatibility test was clearly false. Michael was living, breathing proof of that.

“And Team We Don’t Care Just Pick Whatever wins.” Taylor announced, glancing direly at the small scrap of paper that she’d been documenting the scores on, “Ten points clear from the runners-up.”

You raised your brows, sighing despondently at your glass because you weren’t quite sure you could look Taylor in the eye without feeling some form of inexplicable guilt. You, however, wanted to savour this moment of triumph.

And what better way to celebrate than to pour yourself another glass?

The kitchen was quiet, dirty dishes stacked near and in the sink, along with a plethora of glasses and bottles from where people had decided to mix their drinks. It was quieter and cooler, too: a place to rest and breathe for a second. Only, as soon as the first sip touched your mouth, you had to stifle a yawn, your eyes suddenly dry and heavy.

Half past twelve.

“You leavin’?”

You turned your head to see Michael standing in the doorway, clearly having just come back from the bathroom and with a rather blank look on his face. At your attention, however, he seemed to force his mouth into a slither of a smile, looking mightily uncomfortable under your gaze.

His eyes quickly dropped, momentarily drifting to your glass, a little hesitantly.

“Might do. You?”

You almost wanted to wince at the awkwardness emanating in the atmosphere. It must be the first time you’d ever willingly engaged in a conversation with each other – let alone by yourselves. The silence in the room seemed to intensify that realisation that there was no Taylor or Ellis to act as a buffer, but Michael looked remarkably calm and unbothered by that knowledge. In fact, at your question he raised his brows as though shocked you’d reciprocated the conversation and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.”

There was nothing particularly to say to that, so you just nodded, standing by the counter. He looked as if he wanted to say something: his hands were tapping against his jean-clad thighs and he kept glancing at you and then away, something playing on his features.

“You okay?” You found yourself asking, much to his surprise.

“Yeah, I just…” He stepped closer, throwing a careful glance back towards the open door, “Has Taylor talked to you about me?”

You blinked, tilting your head.

She had, many times on many different occasions and with a variety of different tones. Just off the top of your head you could list that time you’d gone over to hers for a movie night and she’d softly suggested that you try to get along with him; that one time she’d caught you pulling a rather put-off facial expression after he’d said something questionable; that one time she must have been a second away from grabbing you by the shoulders; eventually she’d given up, but that was after the basketball incident when you’d thrown the ball a little too harshly at him and winded him in the park.

The ignoring each other thing worked – so why did you find yourself beginning to tolerate his presence? After all this time, surely, nothing would change so suddenly?

“Yeah.” You admitted, rather guiltily. In your defence, you’d tried to get along with him, but there was something about your personalities that clashed in the wrongest of ways. Both Taylor and Ellis had openly observed the two of you were pretty similar (you were a little offended by that statement) and would probably get along if you both put your pride aside, “Has Ellis…” You trailed off, watching him carefully.

He nodded, “Oh, yeah. He’s made a few bold statements about it, I’ll say that.” He huffed a bitter laugh, “But I was thinking–”

You pulled a face and he looked about ready to stop talking altogether, until he sighed, “Maybe we should just call a truce, or something? A fresh start, if not for us, for them. They seem pretty stable and if they’re for the long-term, then I think it’d be easier if we just agreed to get along, or at least pretend.”

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was because tonight you’d found him a lot more tolerable than you usually would, but you nodded. And to that, he just blinked.

“Really?” He asked, almost recoiling in reaction.

“Yeah.” You shrugged, “Under one condition though.”

His face dropped – the almost triumphant smile that he’d nearly allowed himself to display had vanished completely in replacement for something harsher, more annoyed. His jaw had clenched and the hand he’d placed on the counter seemed to tap with more aggravation as he rolled his eyes in resignation, “And what would that be?” He asked, sounding rather like he already had an idea as to what it was.

“Just admit I’m not a bad driver.” You reasoned.

“Oh, I thought you were gonna…Nevermind.” He shook his head, holding his hand out for you to shake, “You’re not a bad driver.”

“Thanks.” Then, “Are you Michael or do you have any nicknames instead?”

There was a brief pause, and he looked at you like you were an alien, “Why?”

“I don’t know, Michael – you don’t look like a ‘Michael’, that’s all.”

“And what does a ‘Michael’ look like?”

“Probably twenty-thirty years older, balding–”

“Wow.”

“Is that a no?”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, “Purely because you don’t like it, no, I don’t have any nicknames. I’d rather you called me Michael.”

“Nice one. But when we’re in a public space and I yell your name, there’s gonna be at least three older, balding guys turning to look at me–”

“You’re hilarious.”

“Well, one of us has to be.”

Neither of you seemed to remember you were still holding hands.

***

One thing you never thought you’d be doing in your near future, was packing all of your makeup and three outfit choices and driving to Ellis’s place to have a conversation with Taylor. To be honest, there was a small part of you that was a little bit aggravated that to talk to your best friend you had to drive twenty minutes and risk missing packing something for the date you needed help with, especially seeing as though said date was in forty-five minutes.

Although, you did have time to reason with yourself in the car, the usual stuff: she could have just said no to helping you when you called her in a frustrated panic; the last-minute pep talk was probably going to make up for any residual irritation; on the bright side, though, at least Ellis’s apartment was closer to the date location than your own.

You knew you’d feel better once you got there – only…

“You have got to be kidding me.” You breathed a solemn laugh, head lolling backwards and cheeks flaming at the sight before you.

Michael Bunting standing in the doorway with a wicked grin on his face, each pore practically oozing mirth at your current situation, eating an apple. And sure, you’d agreed to get along for the sake of your friends, but you had no idea that would mean him being privy to your moments – nor did it mean you were particularly pleased to see him at such a dire time.

“Hello, sweetheart. Heard you were stuck?” He tilted his head, pouting in your direction, and you didn’t miss the way his attention zipped curiously to the backpack over your shoulder and the garment bags slung over your arm.

“Do you really not have anything better to do on a Friday night other than third-wheel your best friend and his girlfriend?” You asked, smiling flatly and walking through the door when he opened it further.

He shook his head, crunching a bite, and you stood in the hallway, patience ticking away by the second as you waited for him to finish eating to speak. There were voices drifting down the corridor, and you turned your head to see shadows and flickers of light in the other room, Taylor clearly on her way – thank fuck.

“I have a game tomorrow, gotta have a tame night.” He muttered, reaching out a hand to touch the soft plastic covering of your garment bag, “And I’ll tell you one thing, I am so glad I get to witness this.”

You pulled a face, “Ha ha.”

“I can already tell you’re gonna make my fucking night, so I’m gonna just thank you in advance–”

“Hey, stop psyching her out.” Taylor appeared, a crease between her brows that clearly hadn’t materialised at his words alone, and for a split-second, you and Michael shared a worried glance, any previous teasing evaporating along with it.

He nodded easily, holding his hands up in surrender and disappearing into the living room, his footsteps slow and leisurely as though he was hoping to overhear a snippet more, but before you could even spit out a greeting of your own, Taylor had dragged you into Ellis’s bedroom and locked the door – the man himself nowhere to be seen.

“Is everything okay?”

Taylor spun on her heel, flashing you an urgent glance, apparently brushing off your question of concern, “I should be asking you that.”

“Oh, I’m fine–”

She shot you a look of disbelief.

“Just nervous, I guess. And I can’t decide what to wear, so I brought some stuff.”

In the other room, Michael was sitting on the sofa, apple half-eaten and trying to ignore the rather violent knee shaking Ellis was doing by tuning into the faint sound of voices from the bedroom that could still be heard over the TV. He knew he should probably be focused on his best friend – who was anything but subtle in trying to convey the fact that he was clearly irked by something – but he also knew that Ellis would talk when Ellis wanted to talk.

He was also kind of curious as to what had gotten you in such a pickle: he knew you were about to go on a date (first, he assumed), but why the sudden panic? You’d turned up armed with a Hannah Montana-type level of hair, costumes and makeup stuff and he’d just eyed it all a little bit confused.

He was very aware of the fact that you were pretty – he’d seen you with the barest amount of makeup on (he assumed, he actually had no idea if you did) and in a pair of sweats, and his opinion hadn’t changed, so why all the makeup? Surely, if someone was to like you in that sense you shouldn’t have to dress up and put loads of makeup on?

He wasn’t too sure, really. His extent of first dates was restricted to his high school experience and he’d only been on a few since.

“Why the panic?” He found himself asking aloud, turning to Ellis like he’d hold the answers in the universe.

Ellis, however, turned to face him, a scowl already on his face, and it didn’t take a genius to gather that he wasn’t going to get much out of him with the mood he was in.

“What?”

“The girls.”

Ellis shrugged, turning his attention back to the TV, “Why would I know?”

Michael pressed his lips together tightly, trying to ignore the answers popping up in his head. Why wouldn’t Ellis know? He’d been talking to Taylor when you texted so if anything it’d be weird for Ellis to not know what was going on.

In fact, the longer he spent in Ellis’s presence, the more uncomfortable Michael felt. He shifted in his seat, the tense and awkward atmosphere feeling oddly claustrophobic and he felt the sudden desire to get out of the room, even if it was to fake a visit to the kitchen or something.

He pushed himself off the sofa, the apple core in his hand sticky and by the time he’d stood in there and looked out of the window, washed his hands and decided he was going to leave anyway, there was a voice in the hallway.

“-look stunning, I promise.”

There seemed to be a muttered reply, but before he could make his way towards the door and announce his departure, there was a call of his name.

“Bunting–”

“No, don’t.”

He looked right down the hallway, Taylor leaning against the wall. Taylor wasn’t tall by any means, so he could easily see you behind her. You were clearly uncomfortable with something, unable to look at him or any living thing, your eyes instead fixated on the plants on the table next to the door.

He had to remind himself to breathe when you rolled your eyes at Taylor and walked around her, your head down and pointedly trying not to make eye contact with him as you walked to the door to put on your shoes.

You were wearing a long black dress, not too long that you could ever trip over the hem, but long enough to accentuate the sheer length of your legs, and now he was close enough he could make out the little clusters of purple flowers embroidered onto the material.

He couldn’t really get his mind to focus on anything other than ‘wow, that dress fits nicely’; it accentuates your curves perfectly and…he needed to breathe. He cleared his throat awkwardly, wondering when it had suddenly become so dry and ripped his eyes away to blink at Taylor.

He couldn’t read her face, but he didn’t like the look on it.

“Yeah?” He asked, unable to help glancing back at you.

You looked…wow.

“Does she look nice?”

“Taylor–”

“You look really nice.” He blurted, his hands stuck in his pockets. When both of you turned to stare at him, apparently speechless, he felt his cheeks redden and his eyes drifted to the doorframe, a little mortified because you clearly hadn’t wanted him to say anything, but also because he’d said it embarrassingly fast and added a ‘really’ in there. And said it like he had a gun pointed to his head, which was one hell of a contradiction.

“Thanks.” You said, not having moved much.

He just nodded, wanting nothing more than to melt into a puddle on the floor and soak through the floorboards and pretend this moment never occurred.

He wasn’t supposed to like you, he pretty much swore that from the start. But he had a niggling feeling you were wearing him down somehow. He didn’t know what it was, but lately he’d been finding himself sneaking a smile at some of the stuff you said and did. Like you were actually getting along.

And maybe it was because he wanted to test that unspoken theory out – to see if maybe you could be friends – but as he left he waited in the doorway for Taylor to finish talking. He had a sneaking suspicion, though, that Taylor was only talking for herself. The look on your face: he knew you were grateful for what she was saying, but there was something akin to impatience on your face if he looked hard enough.

And it was that, and the fact that the fake smile you’d plastered on your face was slowly slipping with every second that passed and every glance at the time on your phone, that he found himself stepping a little closer, whipping his keys around on his finger, “Hey, are you okay for a lift?”

Taylor shut up and looked to you for confirmation.

There was a pause and he almost regretted asking it–

“Are you offering?” Your voice was different to how it usually sounded when you were speaking to him; softer, perhaps a little more vulnerable.

And when he looked at you, he wasn’t quite sure what it was but it felt different. His stomach sort of dropped and he…lost his train of thought.

Still, he managed, “Yeah. I can drop y’off on my way home, it’s no problem.”

“You’re leaving already?” Taylor asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, I’m pretty tired.” He didn’t really want to say that he didn’t feel like he was welcome at this particular moment in time, not with Ellis clearly in a mood, but he did feel a stab of guilt when he thought about leaving Taylor to deal with it by herself, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” She brushed it off, taking a step back and glancing between you and him with an odd glint in her eye, “I’ll let you go. Have fun.”

There were a few hushed mutters as he stepped out of the apartment, waiting by the elevator for you to join him, and almost as soon as you shut the door behind you, you sighed.

He still didn’t say anything, and instead turned to watch the numbers tick up to the floor, before an audible ding sounded and the doors shuddered open. He let you go first. And if he thought the tension back with Ellis was bad, this was a whole other level, because he swore he could hear the cogs of your mind working on overdrive – about the date or about his uncharacteristic behaviour, he couldn’t possibly guess, but it was driving him crazy.

“You good?”

“Hmm?” You looked at him, shocked at his words, and he’d never seen you this frazzled before, “Oh, yeah. Just nervous, I guess.”

He swallowed, uncertain. He wanted to say something to make you feel better – heck, he had it lined up in his head to just blurt out, but the only thing stopping him was that it might make it weirder, and you’d already been bombarded by that kind of thing from Taylor. And then he thought of you on your date and–

“If you tell yourself that the nerves are actually just excitement, I find it usually eases some of the, y’know, nerves.” He stuttered, glad the doors opened once more.

“Thanks. Also, thanks for offering to drive me here, you really didn’t have to.” You murmured, and he found himself shaking his head.

“You don’t have to thank me, it really wasn’t any trouble.”

“Do you get nervous before your games?”

The question startled him to such an extent that he almost tripped over the rug in the entryway, but his sneakers squeaked against the floor and he felt his body jolt a little.

Was he actually losing it or was this considered a civil conversation? You weren’t at his throat with some quick witted jab, and you weren’t looking at him like you wanted to wring his neck.

It was weirdly refreshing.

“Sometimes.” He admitted, holding the door open to the car park, “It’s usually hit and miss though, it depends on who we’re playing. The car’s this way.” He pointed to the other side of the garage at your hesitation.

And it wasn’t until you’d buckled yourself in and he’d turned the engine on that either of you spoke again.

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

He breathed a bitter laugh, “I’m usually nice to people, y’know, I’m not a–”

“Dick?”

“Yeah.” He shot you a look, “You test my patience, though. You bring out the worst of me.”

You seemed to ease up a little at his confession, managing a small smile, “Likewise.”

“I just…” he trailed off, pulling a face before momentarily losing his train of thought as he pulled out into traffic, “There’s a time and a place for that kind of thing. And I could tell Taylor was starting to grind your gears, so…”

You hummed, “Yeah. She’s great but sometimes she, like, I don’t think she knows me as well as she thinks she does. Sometimes I just need quiet.”

So, he thought, that’s what he’ll give you.

***

Unknown Number: SOS

Unknown Number: HELP

Unknown Number: PLEASE HURRY

You: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Michael Bunting

You could hear the yelling and the dumping of objects into a hollow box even through the door, and it was both the noise and the frantic messages that were still pinging through your phone that had you instantly pushing it open. If you hadn’t had some semblance of a warning from the messages, you’d have probably assumed the entire place had been ransacked by burglars: drawers had been turned upside down with the contents littered across floors in an attempt to find their individual belongings; there were cardboard boxes piled and stacked, stuff sticking up – and, more importantly you guessed, both co-habitants standing in the middle of the living room, yelling about something or other with a stricken Michael Bunting awkwardly holding a TV remote and waiting by the door like a kid.

It was clear from his face that he had no idea what to do. And despite the situation, you were able to find some amusement in that.

Although…

“What’s Taylor doing here?” You asked, the both of you still loitering in the doorway, watching your friends rip each other up like it was usual Saturday soap.

He shrugged, and you felt the heat of his stare burn the side of your cheek until you couldn’t take the silence. His cheeks were pink and he looked to be stuttering.

“What?”

He winced, “I kind of walked in this morning and she was in the kitchen.”

You blinked, your attention switching back to the arguing couple. Ellis had a cushion in his hand and they were both insisting it was theirs, only when you looked closer, you noticed Taylor’s bare feet and the Blue Jays t-shirt she was wearing, and you turned, shocked and disturbed, to Michael.

“When you said this morning…”

“Yeah?” He was refusing to look at you properly now, and that little seed of disbelief that had planted itself in your brain seemed to bloom, and a pebble of stress dropped in your stomach. His cheeks were still a bit pink, but it was hidden by a thicker wad of stubble than when you’d last seen each other.

“What time was that?” You continued, watching the delicate lines near his eyes appear when he pulled another face, almost confirming your thoughts with just a look.

“Nine.”

You nodded, “Right. And was she, y’know, dressed?”

His eyes closed briefly, a whisper of mortification barely heard over the yelling – but with the two of you standing shoulder to shoulder sharing a doorway it wasn’t missed, “Barely.”

You huffed a small laugh at his expense because he clearly hadn’t been prepared for his best friend’s now ex-girlfriend to be in the kitchen wearing next to nothing that early in the morning, and at the sound he sent you an offended glance.

“Sorry.” You apologised, turning to watch the spectacle with a barely-there smile that became increasingly difficult to hide the longer you felt him stare accusingly in your direction – if anything his undying attention only amplified the hilarity of his earlier memory and you had to lean your forehead against the wood of the doorframe and turn your back to him to block the image from your mind entirely.

“Listen, she’s pretty and everything, but…it’s weird for me.” He mumbled, folding his arms.

“Was it your first time seeing a half-naked woman?”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re hilarious – shut up, don’t even say it. You know why it’s weird. It’d be weird if you walked in and it was Ellis with, like, a bowl of cereal covering his crotch.”

You wrinkled your nose, frowning, “I didn’t need that image, but point taken.”

You turned your attention to the bickering couple in front of you, now waving a fly swatter. In truth, you weren’t really sure why you were here or why Michael was here. Taylor had asked you to come with her when she’d made her so-called ‘appointment’ to pick up her stuff from Ellis’s place, but looking at them now she didn’t really need the help, or moral support. And neither did Ellis.

In fact, they were standing in front of each other arguing, and it was probably the least stressed you’d seen Taylor in weeks. Sure, their voices were raised, but there wasn’t anything malicious being said or anything physical going on. They were simply picking up objects and having a loud debate over whose it was, and it was that arguing combined with the obvious ‘last time together’ thing that made you think maybe this was more for closure for each other than anything else.

Even from Taylor’s point of view, she wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but she’d said it felt like everything between them had just gradually fizzled out for no apparent reason. It was odd, really: they’d seemed like such a good fit at the start and now, even like last week, they’d be in the same room and have more interest in talking to either you or Michael than showing interest in each other.

And it was that that had you turning to the man next to you, something plucking at your heart strings. It felt an awful lot like the dread you’d felt earlier, except it was laced with something heavier. Like knowing you’d never see your childhood pet again.

“Are they still broken up?” You found yourself asking, wanting him to turn his attention away from the scenes in front of you both.

He blinked once more before turning his head to look at you, about to say something on the tip of his tongue but clearly changing his mind at what he saw on your face. He tilted his head, eyes zipping from each of yours – back and forth – before his mouth curved up slightly at the edges, his expression taking an odd turn.

“What?” You asked, paranoid at the way he was looking at you.

His grin broadened, and he tilted his head adorably, “Nothing. But, yeah, they’re still broken up.”

You nodded, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. There was something rising in your chest, a tightness edged with panic, like you were aware time was clearly running out for something but your head wasn’t quite sure what.

“We’re still gonna be friends, right?”

For a brief moment, you didn’t know what to do. Your pulse seemed to kick against your sternum and that tightness in your chest eased, an inexplicable reaction that you couldn’t quite get ahold of its meaning.

“Us?” You looked at him, and where he previously had a smile on his face, it was now replaced with a kind of cautious curiosity: his mouth was pulled tightly and there was a slight, very slight crease between his brows that deepened when you spoke again.

His eyes briefly skitted to your right before returning to meet yours, “Yeah?” He said, but with the way his voice ticked up at the end it almost sounded like he wasn’t too sure himself.

And you were so shocked at the words falling out of his mouth that you could only blink and stare, “I’m your friend?”

You supposed it wasn’t too shocking: after the initial agreement it had taken a while to warm up to each other, but you’d eventually gotten to the point where you’d managed to unintentionally create some inside jokes, and, sure, you’d still bicker like children from time to time, but the teasing was less malicious and more fond, like you’d known each other for a while.

And it was in that moment that you realised that tightness in your chest was because you just assumed that, like Taylor would lose Ellis, you would lose Michael.

His eyes narrowed uncomfortably, and you could tell he'd gone a little defensive at your questions, probably assuming his own assumptions weren’t exactly reciprocated, “Yes.” He said, a little forcefully, “Aren’t I your friend?”

You nodded, awkwardly scratching your cheek, “I just assumed you only spent time with me because of Ellis and Taylor–”

“Nah.”

You nodded slowly, a small smile creeping onto your face, “Oh.”

He paused for a beat, watching you carefully, “Is that a no, then?”

“No, it’s a yes.”

“Good.” He grinned.

***

He was next to you one second and the next he’d just disappeared completely. It was the strangest thing.

It wasn’t like he was particularly easy to lose in a crowd, either, not with those shoulders and – well, actually, he was quite small so in hindsight, it was pretty easy to lose him in a crowd, especially when he was just another suit-clad man with a fairly recent haircut and shave.

You sighed in defeat, sitting back in your chair at the table surrounded by strangers that weren’t all that interested in your presence. You’d checked your phone at least five times within the past three minutes, expecting a quick text for an explanation and you hadn’t really been able to stop looking at the bar, helplessly expecting his face to materialise in thin air.

It was pretty shitty what he’d done: he’d all but begged you to come with him to one of his friend’s weddings and after you’d had to rearrange plans just so you could agree (he’d been so desperate he’d actually offered you a thousand dollars to go with him), yet the second you both enter the reception location, he dips?

“Excuse me, hi–”

You snapped your neck towards the unfamiliar voice, heart pounding like a jackhammer in your chest at the unexpected intrusion, and managed a polite, albeit confused, smile as you found yourself faced with a pretty raven-haired woman. You’d never seen her before, but with the way she was looking at you, you were almost forced to second guess yourself.

“Oh, hi.” You replied, brain spinning and throwing out names, but your face clearly contorting into one of utter bewilderment, much to her amusement.

She chuckled, “Sorry, you don’t know me.” She said, slightly oddly, and you tilted your head, connecting the dots from what she hadn’t said.

“But you know me?” You asked, and she shrugged, her cheeks colouring slightly.

“Not exactly, but I saw you come in with Michael–”

“Oh.”

She cringed, “Yeah. I am really sorry for approaching you like this, but I was just wondering if he was okay?”

You just blinked.

“You know,” she continued, clearly sensing your confusion, “because of our breakup?”

Oh fuck.

You tried to hide the shock from your face – as though this wasn’t new news to you – but try as you might, you felt your brows rise a little and your heart rate quicken. He’d never mentioned anything like that to you. In fact, you guys rarely ever talked about relationships, even despite you currently being in one (though it probably wasn’t going to last with the way it had been going recently), so you just assumed he hadn’t been in one.

Nevertheless, you nodded, “He’s fine.”

She eased after that, smiling in relief, but still hung around as though you were supposed to say something else, but in all honesty you weren’t sure what to say. You didn’t know if he was okay, not if he’d seen her and bolted; you didn’t know when it was that they’d broken up, and you didn’t know how much he’d want you to say.

So you sat in the chair, smiling awkwardly – probably appearing pretty rude – and just sighed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t say–”

“It’s fine, I understand.” She replied, smiling tightly, “Enjoy the night.”

You watched her walk away, and as soon as she disappeared through another set of doors, you picked up your phone and started to wind your way through the crowds to at least guess where he could have gone. There were little booths and food carts off around the edge of the room, along with some photo booths and drinks stands – it wasn’t until you reached the photo booth right near the entrance that you stopped for the first time.

There wasn’t a queue to this one, but there was a strip of photos in the hatch and a pair of freshly shined shoes under the curtain. You paused, taking a peak at the photos.

It was him, alright. Four photos: one of him in a ginger wig, one with a pair of huge glasses on, one with a moustache on a stick and the final one with all of them combined. If it had been any other time you supposed you’d have laughed, but all the photos did was fuel your desire to get the curtain open.

All he did was raise his brows at your appearance and shuffle over on the bench, tucking himself in against the wall with a defeated, unsurprised smile. You passed him the photo strip and he breathed a short, mirthless laugh before tucking it in his pocket and turning to you, an almost embarrassed look on his face.

“Sorry for ditching you.” He mumbled, looking genuinely guilty.

You shook your head, a pang of adoration shooting through your system for the man in front of you. You didn’t quite know where it suddenly came from or why it occurred, but you did know that it meant he was precious to you in a way you hadn’t even realised. You guys weren’t exactly close – there were obviously things you didn’t talk about (as evidenced), but you cared about him. Wanted him to be happy.

Wanted to wipe that forlorn expression off his face because he was clearly beating himself up about leaving you but still a little caught off guard by…

“You don’t have to apologise.” You smiled reassuringly, before asking, “What’s her name?”

His brows raised, and he tutted as he pulled an uncomfortable face. Whether it was because he hadn’t expected the question or because he was stealing himself, you weren’t at liberty to say, “Jess.” He managed, eyes zeroing in on some lint on the floor by his feet.

You just nodded. If he wanted to talk about it, you knew he would – he wasn’t exactly an open book when you prodded him, but you were all ears regardless.

“We were in a serious relationship for three and a half years before we broke up. That was a week before I met you. I wasn’t really coping well so Ellis dragged me out to that bar. I’m okay now, though. I still get a bit sad about it but I think I’m more sad for the me I was when we were dating than the me now, if that makes sense.” He spoke to his shoes, his arms crossed against his chest, as though to spit the words out and force himself to talk about it, that also meant he couldn’t face you, “I had a feeling she was gonna be here tonight, it was actually why I invited you, but the second I saw her, I don’t know, I just walked away. And the weird thing is that I don’t know why I walked away, because when I saw her I felt nothing. Maybe I walked away because I feel like I should have felt something, like walking away from her was something that was expected of me.” He sighed, swinging his head towards you, his eyes momentarily dropping to the necklace that sat comfortably against your sternum before darting back up to your face, “I’m just a bit confused.” He admitted.

You reciprocated his wry, self-deprecating smile, patting him on the arm fondly, “Me too; I actually thought you wanted to spend time with me–”

“Shut the fuck up.” He breathed a laugh, shaking his head.

That despondent expression had gone, the tension practically drained from the lines of his face, and you rejoiced at the smile now there – a real one, not one put on for the sake of it.

You took a breath, and whether he could sense that you were about to say something potentially cheesy, or something that neither of you would really say or do, his smile dropped, but only slightly. His eyes were focused on you, and you almost wanted to shrink back under his gaze – you two were sitting pretty tightly together: this photo booth bench was only made for one person, so there was little to no room to even look at each other properly. You’d both had to lean backwards against the walls to not end up touching noses, and for some reason, that hadn’t even occurred to you until that very second.

The breath in your chest shook a little, “I know…Um…” You laughed uneasily, “I know you said you were okay, and I know we don’t usually do this kind of thing, but if you ever feel like it…just for the support – that my hand is here for you to hold if ever you want to.” You inhaled, and this time it was you who was unable to look at him, “And that it’s okay to feel confused about it all. You don’t have to have an explanation for everything, but there’s nothing you can feel that’s wrong in any way. And if you ever want to talk about it…I’m always gonna be here for you.”

When you finally found the courage to turn to him again, he was looking at you in a way that was almost equivalent to the secret adoration you harboured for him, and you fought to keep your cheeks from flushing and your face from smiling like a damn fool. With the way the LED overhead lights were shining on you both – the heat of them warming the box pretty quickly, made worse by the two bodies also in there – your eyes drifted to his nose. You’d never really noticed it before, but the light seemed to hit it just right to enunciate the straight bridge of it. There was a scar just above his lip, darker and also more pronounced from the fresh shave (he’d not got rid of it all, there was still a light bit of scruff left), and although he wasn’t smiling properly, the creases by his eyes seemed to suggest otherwise.

He swallowed once he noticed you’d turned your attention back to him, and he nodded, lips twitching, “That really means a lot, hearing you say that.” He said, rather hoarsely, “It also goes both ways, too.”

You tilted your head in question.

“The hand thing – you can hold mine…for support.”

“Ah.”

“I actually do have something to say, now that I’m thinking about it.”

When did his eyes get so fucking bright? It almost angered you that you’d never noticed it before.

“What?” You asked, mildly curious as to his next words.

Though, nothing – absolutely nothing – could have prepared you for the bombshell of his next words.

“You look really beautiful tonight.”

***

“I know I said to avoid Tim Horton’s today, but I didn’t really mean to avoid–Oh, what the heck?”

His phone was immediately pocketed, and the smile on his face immediately dropped, and he stepped through the door without another word, leaving you both severely confused at his sudden actions and slightly light headed at the speed he’d managed to do all three things in. He simply stood in front of your now shut door, a mildly horrified look on his face and his hands tapping against his short-clad thigh.

“Why are you wearing shorts, it’s freezing outside?”

Your question of appal seemingly went unheard, because the crease between his brows only deepened and he pulled a funny face: his mouth turned down at the corners but he wasn’t angry or upset.

“Um…Okay, so you can tell me to shut the fuck up with what I’m about to ask you…” He trailed off, his eyes never leaving your face – all it did was elicit you to swipe against your cheek, expecting your hand to come away with pen or some dirt or something, because he was looking at you like you were an alien.

It was weird. And creepy.

“But have you been crying?”

You blinked, tilting your head with wide eyes.

He didn’t say anything but he copied your actions, before snapping into a more serious role, “No, but I’m being deadly serious.”

You hesitated, and he took that as your answer, his entire body deflating.

There was no point trying to hide it, clearly not if he’d just taken one solid look at you immediately after walking through the door and managed to figure it out. If anything you were a little impressed he’d recognised it because you’d never cried before or in front of seeing him ever – there hadn’t ever been a situation where he’d have seen your post-cry face to recognise it for what it was, and it wasn’t even as if you actually cried much. Maybe two minutes, tops.

“I broke up with Sam this morning.” You bit the bullet, willing your eyes to not tear up as you spoke the words into existence, but as you did so, the lump rose in your throat so impossibly quickly you physically couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else. Not if you didn’t want to actually start crying.

So you waited, and you watched and you looked as he stuttered, his eyes darting all over your face before going to your living room area. He circled his attention back to you after his forehead had creased and he’d seen what was on the TV, looking suddenly more comfortable than he had mere seconds ago.

“Are you okay?” Was the first thing out of his mouth, his backpack sliding off his shoulders easily to be deposited by the door, and all you could manage was a weak shrug, teeth scraping against your bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

You hated crying, and there was nothing worse than crying in front of someone else – you had no idea how he’d react if the dam did end up breaking, but if the soft, sympathetic gleam in his eye as he took an unsure step towards you was anything to go by, you had an inkling you were in safe hands.

He nodded at your uncertain gesture, “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

The crack in your chest seemed to split further, as though someone had thrown an axe straight through it, and all you could do was nod, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as though they’d somehow protect you from the inevitable hurt and grief of the next few minutes, hours, weeks and perhaps months.

But, despite all of that, the fact that he’d shown up out of nowhere sheerly because you hadn’t had the energy to pick up your phone, and because he clearly cared, you felt okay. Better than you had earlier when you hadn’t even spoken the truth to anyone.

He was right, you didn’t want to talk about it – but he was here. And he was pulling a Tim Horton’s box out of his backpack, giving you space and time and he was so heart-achingly patient that it almost sent you into another spiral of tears for a whole different reason. There was something about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. His friendship was different from yours with Taylor; you loved the girl to pieces but if you’d have told her like you’d just told him, she’d have corralled you into spilling your guts about everything, and you didn’t need that.

You needed peace and quiet and the familiar security and the unspoken knowledge that, yes, you were upset, but you were going to be okay.

“Thanks.” You mumbled, stomach growling when the smells emanated from the open paper bag.

He nodded wordlessly, but looked up with mild horror at the sounds your stomach made, “Hungry?” He joked lightly, already rooting through your cupboards to gather plates.

“Just a bit.” You replied hoarsely, helping him upturn the various boxes onto the plates, before, wordlessly, you both crashed on the couch, your eyes burning each and every single time you blinked. Your throat was aching with the effort to not succumb to the growing lump that had planted itself there, and you were so exhausted. So, so exhausted.

“Thanks for the food.” You said, between mouthfuls, the hungry cramps of your stomach easing with each and every bite. You didn’t let him answer before you jumped into your next question: “How was work?”

You watched him out of the corner of his eye, swallow, also looking at you for a brief moment – as though to suss you out and to gather his thoughts – before he shrugged, a small smile on his face, “It was so bad.”

“Really?” You managed a laugh, the muscles in your face feeling tight at the sudden movements. His face was a picture: he was grinning brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkled and his brows had jumped up his forehead, mind clearly playing something on repeat.

“Really. Willy did the bare minimum and just giggled at me the entire time which made me worse at it, and I – fuck, I couldn’t concentrate on the people in front of me when there were people ordering down the line, and then Mo and Auston showed up too–”

“You’re kidding.”

He shook his head morbidly, “Dead serious. Wearing wigs and the most ridiculous clothes I’ve ever seen, and they ripped us apart, man. I can’t even do it justice, you’ll just have to watch it when it comes out, oh God…” He trailed off, breaking into a small fit of giggles that was so infectious you had to put your own food back down and concentrate on now choking on your drink.

“It was bad, but you had fun?” You summarised, grinning as he nodded, practically glowing at the memory of it.

“I think it’s one of the best days I’ve ever had.”

You just laughed, tucking into your food once more as it became clear he didn’t have anything else to say about it–

“Why’re you watching this?”

Your eyes jumped to him across the couch, briefly frowning in confusion before remembering exactly what you’d been watching before the knock on your door. The frame had been paused mid-first period of the game – there wasn’t anything particularly spectacular about it, and you wondered if he recognised it at all.

He tilted his head, a hint of confusion lacing his tone, and you swallowed, nerves picking up and your heart thrumming in your chest. You never really talked about hockey with him, at least not from your perspective. You guys talked about the Leafs and his games and his practices and his teammates, but you’d never really broached your affinity for the sport. And the longer you’d left it, the more awkward you’d felt it would be to just admit it outright.

“It’s my favourite game.” You admitted quietly, fighting the urge to smile fondly.

He hesitated, his head swinging from you to the screen and back again, and he asked, a little breathlessly – as though he was trying to wrap his head around everything bouncing around his mind – “You watch hockey enough to have a favourite game?”

You nodded, “I love hockey.”

“You do?” He asked, voice higher in pitch than it had been. The surprise was painfully evident, and with it, so was the guilt that seemed to make itself known.

“Yeah.”

He nodded slowly, “I thought you didn’t know who I was?”

“I didn’t. I’d just moved to Toronto, like, a week before you started I think, and the Leafs aren’t exactly my team, y’know?” You explained, watching him carefully for any traces of possible betrayal he might feel, “It was a hectic time to be keeping up with any NHL news.”

He blinked, before shrugging, “Makes sense. Your team’s the Preds?” He raised an inquisitive brow, and for some reason you knew then that you’d both be locked in this amusing back and forth for a while. Of course you would: there’s no greater hockey fan than a hockey player, let alone a hockey player playing for their childhood team.

You scoffed, barking a short, almost offended laugh, “No. I mean, I have nothing against the Preds, but it’s the Pens for me, all the way.”

He arched a brow at your reaction, a smirk beginning to play at the corner of his mouth, “I mean you no offence when I say that.” Before, “I want you to win, though–”

“Just me?”

“Micheal Bunting against the NHL, yeah.” You rolled your eyes, “The Leafs are…I want you to win unless it’s against the Pens. It’s a conflict of interest.”

“What do you do when we play with each other?”

You widen your eyes comically, “Lock myself in a dark room and don’t come out until the game’s over.” You shrug, answering honestly, “It depends whose situation is the most dire, I guess. I always want the Pens to do well, but you’ve thrown a spanner in the works. You’ve made hockey complicated.”

“I’m honoured.” He laughed softly, “Why’s this one your favourite?”

“Sixth game of the Stanley Cup Final, 2017. I don’t know why that one specifically, it’s just the last one we won when I was back home, so it reminds me of…well, home, I guess.”

“You miss it?”

You nodded, almost wistfully, “Yeah. I sometimes think about moving back.”

“But?” He encouraged, almost afraid of what you were about to say.

“I don’t know. I have friends here, a job, somewhere to live; I guess I have that back home too, or I would given the time. I think I’m just waiting for the right moment to go back.” You trailed off, your voice becoming nothing more than a mere whisper, but he caught it – with a slow nod and the parting of his mouth.

You’d seen him speechless before, but he always managed to find something to say. The silence that ensued after spoke volumes, mostly just because you didn’t understand any of it.

He reached over after that, taking the remote, before hesitating and turning to you, shocked when he found your eyes already on him, “What counts as the right moment?”

He pressed play when you shrugged.

***

Even after the conversation you’d both had last year about you leaving, you never would have imagined he’d be the one leaving first. It had always been a possibility, maybe even something you’d thought about since becoming friends, but there hadn’t really been anything to suggest he would leave. At least, not until the last season.

And it hadn’t ever felt realer than this moment: standing in the doorway to an empty house, your clothes sticking to you in the early Summer heat with your hands on your hips and feeling much more emotional about the prospect of a Bunting-less Toronto than you’d initially prepared yourself for.

He was wandering through the empty rooms, double and triple checking everything after you’d done the same, and for those lonely three minutes without him, you got a glimpse of what it’d be like not seeing each other every few days. You couldn’t exactly remember when Toronto had suddenly become him, but the idea of it felt strangely intimidating. It almost felt like you’d just moved in again, not knowing anyone or where anything was.

It was scary.

He came back into view, hand resting on a door frame as he stopped suddenly in the exact spot he’d looked up to you in. You offered a reassuring smile, standing up straight, but you could both tell it was strained.

“Checked everything?” You asked, voice tight, but you didn’t want to ruin this moment for him. He’d been looking forward to settling in Raleigh since he’d signed the contract – at least, once he’d gotten over the initial disappointment and sadness of leaving Ontario.

And you were excited for him, for this new opportunity and this new experience.

You’d just never really anticipated how you’d feel.

“Yeah.” He nodded, swallowing, looking grave and strange.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” He breathed a laugh, walking towards you and scratching his beard – he’d started leaving it longer between each shave now – “Just gonna miss this place, I guess.” He swung his hands in front of him, coming to a direct stop in front of you and swivelling on his heel, taking one last, long look at the place he’d called home for years.

You hummed in agreement, “Me too.”

You hadn’t even realised how true that admission was until you’d said it out loud. It sent an uncomfortable zing down your spine, like pulling down a zipper, and you shivered, rubbing your arms just to give yourself something to do.

He turned to look at you, eyes assessing your every motion, and you froze. You didn’t really know where to go from here. The car was packed, the house was empty: you’d drop by the estate agent’s on the way to drop him at the airport, and from then on he’d be in Raleigh – at least, in every way that mattered to you. Sure, he had his training camps and he had his away games, but you’d very rarely get to see each other.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to say anything.

But where did you go from here? You?

Well…you’d been toying with the idea for a while, but–

“You ready?” He breathed out, lips pressed together with his hands on his hips.

You nodded, managing a smile, but the lack of effort into pretending like you weren’t in the least bit affected by it was noticeable.

“Let’s go then.” You whispered, leading the way to the front door, slowing down each time he turned to get another look – never too far ahead, not wanting to let him out of your sight. These moments felt crucial, somehow. It was the last time you’d actually be able to look at him properly; his eyes, hair, smile, arms, legs, clothes. You felt silly soaking it all up.

He followed closely on your heels, taking the keys from you on the porch and turning round to lock the door behind him for the last time. He didn’t say anything, but his mouth twisted and he ran a brief hand across his brow bone, almost as though he was wiping away some sweat or satisfying an itch.

You tried not to make it obvious you were keeping an eye on him, ensuring to stand behind him, a few steps down to give him the space to collect himself if he needed to. And when he turned back around, he tried to keep his head down but you still caught his red-rimmed eyes and his sucked in cheek and his shaky smile as he caught up with you.

It was silent in the car, too, no music playing through the speakers. He was looking out of the window, eyes catching onto everything that swam passed, drinking it all in.

Each time ‘for the last time’ flew through your mind, you’d have to catch yourself and reign in the prickly eyes and the tightness in your chest as best as you could without drawing too much attention to yourself. It felt pointless, though, because you knew it was inevitable that you’d both end up shedding a few tears at some point.

The only thing that seemed to do it was the knowledge that it wouldn’t even be the last time, because he grew up near here. He’d come back when he could; you’d see each other at the Marner wedding next month, too.

It wasn’t the end of the world, but it felt like a part of it was dying.

“Here.” You mumbled, voice hoarse and wiping at the underneath of your eyes (no tears had fallen, but you could feel them welling up).

He looked up and out of the window, eyes zeroing in on the window of the estate agents. His seatbelt came next, and before you could convince yourself otherwise, you followed him in, ignoring his curious eye but taking the hand he offered anyway. It was something you’d both taken to doing lately, even in mundane moments like this.

Whether it was the knowledge that time was running out or if it was just a comfort thing, you never spoke about it. It just happened. And it seemed today was one of those days you both needed it.

Only, as he made his way towards the desk, you branched away towards the other side of the shop, hands ripping apart. He only threw a confused look behind, but carried on when his own agent walked out from the back of the shop.

You, however, found yourself standing in front of the magazine rack, hands clenching and unclenching at your sides, eyes roving over the words on each, searching for the correct one. Nothing seemed to ease the hollowness under your sternum, though.

There was some comfort when you found the right one, though, picking it up and feeling the comfortable weight in your hands. It felt like a breath of fresh air, and the twinges eased only slightly at the familiar cityscape on the front.

You swallowed, rolling it up in your fist and making your way back over to where he was chatting to his estate agent, a pen in his hand and some papers in front of him. The key had been stripped of its keychains, and for some reason that little difference brought everything back again.

You wanted to reach for his hand, but you held back for a moment. The estate agent caught your eye and you managed a polite smile, but it dropped the second they looked away.

And before you could blink, Michael was pushing himself off the counter, snatching his keychains and pushing everything else back towards the agent with a final thanks, and then he turned.

He blinked, eyes dropping to the programme in your hand, and you tried to hide it by moving it behind his leg, but he wasn’t having any of it. There was a crease between his brows, and he didn’t look to be on the verge of tears anymore, but there was a specific ticking to his jaw – his entire being was still tinged with a veil of melancholy, but he gently took it from your hand once you’d stepped outside. You let him, your fist unfurling.

Your face seemed to act of its own accord, an odd wince appearing as his lips parted.

“You’re really gonna do it?” He murmured gently, an odd glint in his eye.

“Think it’s time.” You breathed an uncomfortable laugh, somehow not able to look at him or anything else.

He was so magnetic it was honestly a chore trying not to give him all of your attention, least of all when he was looking at you differently. It wasn’t something he’d done a lot before, but you’d noticed it a lot more recently: his eyes would fix themselves on you with an unfamiliar intensity, and even when you’d catch him red handed, he wouldn’t ever let up. If anything, the attention from you seemed to make it worse (or better?) because he’d start to smile and he’d expel a stuttering breath, like he hadn’t previously been breathing.

Each time, though, you never failed to blush slightly. Your cheeks would feel warm and you’d only be able to stand his look for so long before ultimately looking away, trying not to appear too flustered by it.

“Yeah?” He asked, handing you the programme back, “You can’t stand to be in a different country than me, eh?” He joked, but you could sense the underlying seriousness to his question, as though he was fishing for a specific answer.

“You wish.” You managed, scoffing slightly but unable to hide a small smile at the familiar dynamic.

It vanished the second the first wave of homesickness took hold of you though, and he noticed. Just grabbed your hand again.

The drive from the estate agent’s to the airport was even worse. Every time the sign appeared on the side of the road, you’d have to inhale and remind yourself to keep breathing in order to stave off the oncoming bout of tears. The entire time you were fighting against the wetness gathering in your eyes, and your nose had started to run – each sniff meant he’d look at you out of the corner of his eye and if anything, that made it worse, because as time went on and as you pulled into the parking lot, you could hear his sniffles too.

You put off turning the engine off. The second you did, he’d climb out, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that just yet. Judging from the utter stillness he was exhibiting in the passenger seat, he was the same.

Your hands were still clenched around the steering wheel, the rough plastic doing nothing to cure your cold hands, not even when the sun was shining through the windshield and warming the entire vehicle. Your body was on high alert, blood not really flowing to your extremities.

You’d never been so numb yet so aware of everything in your entire life: the way the hairs on your arms stood up when he turned in his seat to face you was almost drowned out by the pounding of your heart in the sheer effort it took to not show the tears wobbling on your waterline.

It was a plane taking off and the sheer volume of the engine that snapped you out of the haze, your hands unclipping your seatbelt, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to even touch the door, flinching when the belt smacked against the inside of the car.

“I feel weird.” He muttered, eyes staring straight through the windshield and into the car parked nose to nose. He sniffed once, before unclipping his own seatbelt, and you watched him in silence as his shaking hands hovered above his lap before eventually settling on top of his cap, a shuddering breath passing his lips.

The sight was such a contrast to how he’d been earlier that morning – he’d gone from bouncing on his toes with giddy excitement to suddenly folding in on himself and the entire world crumbling at its edges.

You pushed open your car door, fully intending to make your way around to his own door and start from there but the second your feet hit the tarmac, he’d also pushed himself out of the car, his door slamming behind him. He’d made it to the trunk before you could even shut yours behind you or ask if he was okay, but it looked as though he’d made the decision to pretend he hadn’t just admitted his inner turmoil.

You helped him lift his luggage out of the car (there wasn’t much: most of his actual things had been packed in a moving van the day before to meet him in Raleigh tomorrow) in silence. The trunk shut.

You swallowed nervously, eyes darting to the entrance of the airport before jumping back to him. He had one fist clenched on the top of a suitcase, his other dropped by his side, gaze focused and unwavering into the glass window of the trunk, blinking every so often.

You cleared your throat and the corners of his mouth twitched before he turned to look at you, feet shuffling against the gravel.

And he looked so despondent and not really like him at all that you didn’t have any choice whatsoever but to grab his free hand, which, similar to yours, was cold to the touch. You were both watching your fingers intertwine slowly, sliding over each other before finding solace in their places between each other’s knuckles. Three squeezes on your behalf and a small step forward had him pulling his suitcase along, an apprehensive and equally unreadable expression on his face.

“I could have stayed here longer.” He said, the both of you crossing over, a distracted gleam in his eye as he looked up at the entrance, nose scrunching on one side.

“If you stayed longer you’d want to leave less when you have to.” You reasoned, “And it’s better to move into your new place and get everything unpacked and ready for the season before it starts, to really get used to Raleigh, yeah?”

He nodded, swallowing, “Yeah.”

“Still feel weird?”

He nodded again, looking to the floor as you walked through the entrance.

You frowned, a stab of something really getting you right in the ribs as he only looked up when the airport atmosphere bled into his bubble. It was busy, but it wasn’t the busiest you’d ever seen it: people were milling about, double checking for passports and boarding passes, everything ready at hand, and at the strangers’ checks, Michael’s own hand pulled away from the suitcase, forcing you to stop walking towards the first checkpoint, and patted against the pocket on the outside of his backpack.

He pulled it all out without looking, peering into the plastic wallet you’d given him to keep everything important organised so he wouldn’t have to check it all at this moment, right in the doorway. You reached over, letting him fret, and wheeled his suitcase over by the inside window, dragging him with you.

“What are you doing?” He asked, brows knitted as he continued looking into the wallet, not sparing you much of a glance as you patted imploringly at the straps of his backpack.

“Take it off.” “Only if you ask me out first.”

“Sorry, I just want no strings attached.”

His eyes slid over to yours, his cheek sucked into his mouth to stop himself from grinning, and he gave you his wallet, shrugging his backpack off easily and dropping it on the floor next to where you’d parked his suitcase.

“Now what?” He asked, eyes darting back to your hand like he wanted to grab it again, but decided against it.

“I don’t know.” You breathed, “How long do you have left?”

“Two hours-ish until boarding.”

“Oh.” He had to leave now, you supposed, eyeing his luggage like they were the ones taking him away, and that ache in your throat reappeared before you could even blink, and you were rendered speechless.

You watched him nod, and reach for his bags, but he must have changed his mind because the next thing you knew, your back was pressed up against the window, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against his collarbone.

There was a moment when all you could focus on was the sudden envelope of warmth that circled you, the cacophony of smells: deodorant, fabric softener, a slight twinge of sweat and something else entirely – something very familiar – and before you could even sigh at the ache in your chest, you’d melted into him completely, your own arms hooking around the backs of his. You tucked your forehead down into his chest, pressing at the supple muscle, hands tightening in his shirt.

It wasn’t very comfortable: the ridges of metal edging the glass panes were digging into your back, and–oh.

There was a shuddering against your forehead, and you froze, before tilting your head up to see his eyes screwed shut in an effort to not let anything show.

“We’ve still got the Marner wedding – it’s gonna be okay.” And despite yourself, despite the watery smile on your face, you laughed a little, “You’re gonna enjoy Raleigh–”

“It’s not that.” He shook his head, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes and blinking to get rid of the blurriness before dropping them to his sides again, the both of you still in entirely too-close-for-comfort-quarters.

“The weird feeling?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, his chin wavering, and he inhaled sharply, “It’s just gonna be so weird not seeing you.”

“FaceTime exists, as do away games to Toronto.”

“I’m not even in that division anymore.”

You sighed, “Pittsburgh is, though.”

Silence.

He was doing it again: “Stop looking at me like that.”

He frowned, “Like what?”

“I don’t know, just–” You rolled your eyes, reaching to tug him back into you like before, only this time your hands slid up his back to rest across the tops of his shoulders, and he sighed into the touch, his own rough palms dragging up your neck to plant a soft kiss against your hairline.

You stayed like that until he really had to go, but there weren’t any tears.

***

“Do you like him?”

The question hung in the air for a good few seconds, you pulling a face, heart pounding like a jackhammer against your sternum before you could even find the words and the ability to talk, “He’s infuriating.”

“Do you like him?” Taylor’s voice rang out through your phone speaker, her eyebrow raised very matter-of-fact, and you’d never wanted to scream at her before, but you were cutting it pretty close with the way she was looking at you and the tone she was using.

You hesitated, your face falling. The words were caught in your throat, the admission you’d practised like a teleplay in your head, but the only thing stopping you was the way things would change. Sure, it would only be little things to start with, like Taylor nagging you with it, or her insufferably smug ‘I told you so’s. But eventually that meant that you’d have to do something about it, because Taylor could never leave things like that alone, least of all with rock hard evidence.

But…maybe you needed that?

“I…” You looked away from your phone, body trembling with an invisible cold, “Did I tell you what happened at the wedding?”

She frowned, “The Marner one?”

“Yeah.”

“The one that happened, like, Summer last year? Fucking months ago?”

You cringed, “That one.”

THE MARNER WEDDING:

“My God, are you a sight for sore eyes.”

Michael Bunting was never one to care about his appearance, least of all after crawling off a plane, but somehow he’d found himself in the bathroom of the airport, fixing his hair and straightening his clothes. All for it to fly completely out of the window when he strolled towards the exit and the first thing you did was say that. He couldn’t tell if it was the grin on your face or the sheer excitement racking your entire being that caused it, but he’d never felt sillier for feeling nervous about this moment.

“Could say the same thing about you.” He retorted, feeling the tightness in his chest dissolve, “What’s that?” He reached a finger to tap the underside brim of your cap, the sudden intrusion making you blink and jump slightly.

You knew what he was talking about: the black cap on your head, the sticker placed over a hidden logo with your handwritten message scrawled on. He furrowed his brows, eyes tracking over the words, before tilting his head in confusion, reading it aloud, “‘This is indeed my first rodeo’.” He said it slowly, as though he was worried he’d read it wrong, and before he could even ask you what it meant, you felt his fingers pick at the corner, peeling the sticker back.

He smiled sarcastically, patting it back into place with more force than necessary, the pats like small smacks against your forehead, “Shoulda known. What’s with the rodeo thing?”

“Bridal party thing.” You shrugged, “I’m not sure really.” You reached out to take the small suitcase from him, your own hands trying to pry his fingers off the handle, but he only held on tighter, “Let go.”

“No.”

“Yes.” You sighed, looking him dead in the eye hoping he’d get the hint and succumb, but he shook his head, his other hand peeling your fingers off him one by one, more condescendingly than anything else, “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want the dead body to fall out.”

—

“Hey, I forgot to ask earlier,” he called from the bathroom, the door shut as you took turns: he was cleaning his teeth and trimming his beard etc, and you were getting changed – later, you’d swap, “but how’s the property hunt going in Pittsburgh?”

You grinned, slipping the straps of your dress over your shoulders. Even the mere mention of your future plans had you smiling like an absolute idiot; you couldn’t wait to get back there. If you told the you that had just moved to Toronto what you were about to do, you were sure she’d have had a stroke from the shock. For so long, you’d envisioned living your life in Toronto and staying there. Moving back home felt more like a fever dream or something you shouldn’t do, because surely moving back to your home city meant you’d failed at something? At least, that used to be your thought process.

In reality, you just missed your family too much – every time something happened, whether it be a proposal or an illness, something in you just ached to be back there.

“It’s going okay. I’ve got a few places lined up that my parents have viewings booked for to check out, but there hasn’t been anything that’s stood out so far, but…” you paused, sitting on the edge of the bed to sort out your shoes, “I’ve got an online job interview with a company back there next week and the starting date, if I get it, is on par pretty much with moving in if there’s a place found within the next two weeks or so. But that’s only if everything goes well. Reality is I’ll probably end up moving back in with my parents for a few weeks until I find a place which isn’t exactly ideal.”

There were a few bangs, things getting placed on the counter, before his muffled, “Can I open the door?” Could be heard.

“Yeah, I’m decent.”

He creaked open the door, leaning on the handle as it swung open with a dopey grin, and it took everything in you not to stall at the sight: he was only wearing dress pants and a pair of socks, his hair tousled and damp from the shower. You’d seen photos of hockey players shirtless before, but there was something breathtakingly stunning about seeing Michael without one. He was your friend, and friends kept their shirts on – but…you swallowed, rather wishing you didn’t have to tear your eyes away from his toned figure and the smattering trail of hair, and turned your attention to his face.

The grin on his face had frozen, and despite not even looking further down than his neck you could see his chest rising and falling, eyes narrowed playfully as he stood up straighter, eyeing you with something that screamed trouble in all ways imaginable.

“Were you just checking me out?” He let go of the door handle, one hand pointing at you in an accusatory manner, and you just blinked, frowning.

“No.” You shook your head, pasting an incredulous ‘how could you’ look on your face to try and deny what had, in fact, been absolutely true.

He hesitated, his eyes roving your face for a single speck of a lie, “You were looking.”

You shrugged, “I’ve just never seen someone so…well-built before, that’s all.”

He nodded, pressing his lips together to stifle another grin, “So you were checking me out?”

“No, I was looking. There’s a difference.”

He lifted his hand, thumb and pointer finger closed together, a slither of a gap between them, “Tiny difference. So tiny there might not even be a difference.”

You sent him an unimpressed look, one that you hoped would mean he’d shut up about it because the second you even so much as hinted at him being right, it’d be over. He’d hold it above you for the rest of your lives, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of that, not if you could help it, “You’d know if I checked you out.”

He fell for it, his smile dropping in curiosity, “How?”

You shrugged, “You’d just know.” You took a deep breath, “Why’d you open the door?”

“I was gonna ask you about this job interview next week – what’s it for?” He disappeared back into the bathroom, but the mirror in the room still provided you with the perfect angle to watch his focused motions as he ran a towel through his hair and picked up an electric shaver. Each time he moved, his body rippled, and you hated that you couldn’t stop looking.

“It’s a cheffing position at a hotel, but it’s almost like a club. There’s an entire golf course; the restaurant is gorgeous; it’s got a spa, and it’s just…it’s like an old estate house in a period film, it’s just beautiful.” You raved, fiddling with your makeup bag as you waited for him to finish.

“Sounds incredible.” He muttered, nodding at you to join him and shoving his things to one side, “What makes you think you won’t get it?”

You shrugged, placing your bag on the counter, missing the way his eyes dragged right across your figure in the mirror, his hand still shaving his cheek with close concentration. Perhaps if he’d wavered, you’d have caught the action, but you didn’t, carrying on, “They can’t really ‘interview’ me without trying my food. I had to ask if it was okay for an online thing and it was lucky they even agreed, so…I don’t know, it just feels too good to be true.”

“Why?”

You sighed, “It just does. Something has to go wrong somewhere.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, that’s all.” You said it forcefully, throwing something back into your makeup bag and not even looking in his direction. He slowly lowered his hand to the counter, eyes fixated on you for a whole different reason.

You’d gone from being so infectiously excited about the prospect to suddenly…not.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly.

It had been four weeks since you’d last seen each other, and although he’d felt your absence like he’d never expected, he’d never felt it more than he had now. Ironic, considering you were standing right next to him. To have gone from texting each other with updates every day in Toronto to that eventually dwindling, mostly because he didn’t want to bother you too much – he’d assumed the same on your end, too – it was a big adjustment. He’d caught himself reaching for his phone a few times or eyeing it as each notification came through, and the remembrance of ‘oh, shit, we’re in different countries’ or not seeing your name pop up sent a shot of disappointment so deep through his chest that sometimes he’d actually have to massage it away.

It kind of killed him, though, that he didn’t know what was wrong. If he’d have still been back here…

“Yeah,” you clenched and unclenched your jaw, “it’s just stressful. There’s so many decisions that need to be made, and I have a date to move out now but I just want to go back to a job lined up at least. It’d be worth it then.”

His mind whirled, ideas of what to say lining up like there was no tomorrow, but he wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say. He swallowed, nudging your arm with his elbow to get you to turn your attention back to him, and smiled smally in the mirror when you met his eyes, “I think it’s worth it anyway if it’s something that makes you happy. And it won’t be the end of the world if you don’t have a place to live or a job immediately. It might be ideal, but if it doesn’t work out, you’ll figure things out. Everything will fall into place, it just might take some time, that’s all.”

It was almost magical how quickly the sudden tension dissipated. The dread in your stomach and your racing heart calmed almost instantly – the very second you allowed yourself to believe his words. You knew he wouldn’t say something like that and not mean it, and the fact that he believed in you to that extent – to hear him topple each and every single doubt in your mind to the ground – had you fighting to grab ahold of him. Whether it be his hand or to hug him or to just check to make sure he was really there. It didn’t matter that one half of his beard was neatly trimmed and the other wasn’t; it didn’t matter that his hair was wet or he didn’t have a shirt.

You wanted to tell him you missed him at that very moment. Especially when he looked at you like that again.

Michael blinked, eyeing you. He was aware the entire room had come to a standstill and that all you were doing was simply breathing and looking right at him, and it was the latter that was odd. There was something skewiff about the way you were looking at him, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Your mouth had parted, and there was a faint, dainty crease between your brows, like when you were thinking about something. If it weren’t for the fractional tilt of your head or the softness to your eyes – they kept bouncing across his face like it was the first time you’d actually looked at him – he would’ve thought that’s what you were doing: thinking.

But then you huffed a laugh, almost shocking yourself, and snapped back to reality, that look disappearing as quickly as he’d noticed it, “Yeah.” You placed a hand against your cheek, eyes darting away from him briefly, and when you pulled your palm away, he could see the growing darkness of your cheeks, “Thank you, I really needed to hear that.”

You looked towards the counter, hair falling in a curtain and hiding your face, and not for the first time since he’d come back, a homesick pang seemed to resonate to the tips of his fingers, as though his entire soul had been plucked like the string of a guitar.

—

He kept telling himself that his arm was around your shoulder, his fingers against your skin, because your strap kept falling down – and he could tell it was irritating you. (He’d also made the mistake of actually looking when it had fallen the first time, the sharp motion catching his eye, and he had no intention of replicating that awkward moment again.) It had absolutely nothing to do with the alcohol in his system, lowering his inhibitions, or the way you’d scooted closer to him because of the tight-packed bar, or the fact that he’d realised mid-way through the ceremony that what Mitch was saying about Steph was eerily similar to how he felt for you.

Mo kept shooting him a look over Tessa’s head when you weren’t looking, and Willy had hilariously looked shocked when he’d had to correct him that, no, you were just friends, even after knowing that exact same fact for over two years now.

But you? He didn’t think you were thinking too much about him at that moment. Your eyes were fixed on someone further down the bar – someone that he wasn’t particularly fond of during the season in the first place – and he was having a hard time trying not to let it get to him.

Sidney Crosby. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, but you kept glancing back at him and he could practically sense you vibrating at the mere knowledge that he was metres away. He was half-expecting you to straight-up ditch him to go talk to the man himself, or he would have if you hadn’t shaken your head at Mitch with a hilariously terrified look on your face when he’d offered to introduce you. Michael had an inkling you did want to meet the guy, but just didn’t want to appear too eager.

And realistically, he knew he had absolutely no reason to even be the slightest bit jealous of the guy. He wasn’t even sure he was jealous, but the thought did make him uncomfortable; though he wasn’t entirely able to think about anything other than the vows from earlier.

“Want me to help you out?” It was Willy talking in his ear. He didn’t even need to look at the blonde to know it was him; the garish chain peeking out between a shirt that was unbuttoned dangerously low down, and the cologne emanating from him. Bunts figured he must douse himself in the stuff before he steps outside, but he’d seen Willy get ready and the only conclusion he’d reached was that guy must just smell that good naturally all the damn time.

He didn’t know why that was the first thing that popped into his mind at that moment. What he did know was that nothing good ever followed Willy when he uttered those words.

“Absolutely not, no.” He was very aware of his fingers still hooked onto the strap of your dress, keeping it held tightly against your shoulder. And on the way your other shoulder was pressed right against his chest. And the fact that you were chatting to someone he wasn’t quite sure he recognised – but the point was that you weren’t listening.

“What, why?” Willy frowned, pouting and swigging a bottle of something. Michael didn’t like the look on his face.

“Because.”

“Because you’re scared?”

His silence was enough to answer Willy’s question.

“You need help.”

Michael frowned, “Like, mental help or–”

“Me help.”

“I just said no.”

“I heard you but I’m electing to ignore that and follow my own instincts.” Willy flashed him a grin and Michael felt his stomach drop, watching and unable to move as his ex-teammate walked to his other side, coming to stand next to you and whisper something in your ear that had you recoiling, your head gently bumping against Michael’s shoulder. He pretended not to notice, but he couldn’t help drinking in your reaction.

He had no clue what Willy had done or said, but he could feel his heart beating in his chest, and he was half-expecting you to turn around and ask if he was okay, but, much to his own intrigue, you shook your head, an awkward apologetic expression on your face.

Willy shrugged, but there was a crease between his brows. And because Michael knew him so well, he could tell something had been proven.

Willy then reappeared at Michael’s other side, and you returned talking to who you’d been chatting to before, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“What?”

Willy said nothing.

“Dude.” Michael could feel himself getting agitated, his hand was tapping anxiously against his thigh and because he was so fully intent on focusing on Willy, he was completely ignorant to the way you’d turned around at the sudden shaking, eyes zeroing in on his spare hand with confusion. Willy noticed it, though. He also noticed the way your hand twitched before clearly thinking the better of it and turning back around.

“I just told her one of my friends thinks she’s cute.”

Michael blinked, nervous.

“Point is,” Willy continued, “That that was obviously untrue. I mean, she’s cute, but she never even thought twice about it. Didn’t even turn around. Said she’d rather not and stayed standing with you.”

“That proves nothing.”

“It proves she’s not looking at other people.”

“Barely. You’re clutching at straws.”

Willy rolled his eyes, “Okay. But you better do something about it before someone else comes along and she chooses them, okay? Because it’ll happen.”

—

You were about ninety percent sure that you were one of the only people in the entire cafe who didn’t have a hangover right now. It might have something to do with the fact that you hadn’t had much to drink last night because you wanted to be as sober as possible just to soak in as much of Michael as you could and actually have a chance of remembering it.

You had no idea when you’d see him next. He was leaving for a training camp in a few days and you had a feeling the next time you’d see each other you’d be in Pittsburgh, all being well. You still had to sort out your paperwork and the whole visa situation still had to come through before anything could happen, but other than that, both of your timelines were one giant question mark.

That seemed to weigh on you heavily now you were sitting opposite each other. His hair was slightly scruffy, none of the gel in from earlier, and he had bags under his eyes – a telltale sign of his own hangover.

He’d acted weirdly last night. You couldn’t really put it into words, but since walking into that bar it was like he wasn’t entirely there all the time. Like he was distracted. He kept checking his phone, and before he’d met up with you for breakfast he’d appeared with a gift bag with a book in it and smiled each time he caught sight of it.

You had a horrible feeling that he was seeing someone. It’d make sense, even if it did come as a bit of a shock considering the four week mark, but who could blame him? He was a catch if you did say so yourself.

You’d tried to put the bubbling anxiety at that idea to the back of your mind, but the more you looked at him, it only felt weirder.

“How’s Carolina?”

The touch of his fingers ghosted your shoulder, a blazing reminder from the night before.

You blinked, goosebumps rising on your skin at the mere memory. What the fuck?

He looked up, nodding with a grin, “I love it so far. I’ve met up with some of the guys that stayed in Raleigh and I’m getting along with everyone well so far. It’s really pretty there, too. How’s Toronto treating you without me?”

You flicked your food over on your plate, “As well as it usually does. It’s quieter, though.”

The conversation wasn’t anything you hadn’t already talked about over text or FaceTime; it was something you kept coming back to when you just wanted to hear him talk. You weren’t entirely sure when that had started. You paused. You’d done for months, even back when he was in Toronto.

This time, when he answered, he leaned closer over the table, and for a brief moment you thought he was going to admit a secret or pick something off your face, but when you looked up he was doing It again.

And this time you didn’t shy away from it. In fact, if the spike in heart rate was anything to go by, you revelled in the attention. And the revelation just took your breath away.

“I know this might sound weird…” He trailed off, eyes carefully gliding over features, and although you didn’t know it was possible, your heart rate skyrocketed, the pounding tingling the tips of your fingers and causing a raucous rushing in your ears. Without even realising it, you’d leant closer across the table, too, the only thing separating the two of you being the condiments rack.

He seemed taken aback at your proximity, eyes widening and his mouth stuttering, “I do miss you, y’know.” He whispered, cheeks reddening almost immediately.

You blinked, allowing your mind to digest the gravity of his admission. Something happened: it felt like something in your brain sighed or something in your chest loosened, something you weren’t even sure existed suddenly being clicked to life, and you smiled shyly. You were completely unfamiliar with what it was or what it meant, but you knew there was a point of no return: you’d be chasing whatever this was for the rest of your life, without a doubt.

Where you’d felt jilted moments earlier, something evened out – it felt smooth, there was no ache when you breathed, and your mind cleared, the only thing on repeat…him.

Oh.

There was a zing straight down your spine, and you shivered at the feeling of it.

“I’m gonna say something even weirder…” Your voice came out shaky, shakier than you’d initially like it to be, and he automatically glanced at your mouth because of it, “I miss you too.”

He blinked, stifling a grin by placing his hand over his mouth, and you took the opportunity to change the subject, not wanting to dwell on anything too long for fear of what it could mean, what it could lead to, “Are you gonna let your hair grow out?”

He pulled a face, his hand moving to his hair self-consciously, “You don’t like it?”

“No, I like it.”

“What about the beard?”

You hesitated, “I…Do you want my opinion?”

He pulled a face, like you were crazy for even asking, “I literally asked to get your opinion.”

“Keep it like that, then.”

“What’s this about my hair, though?”

“Nothing.” You breathed a laugh, wondering how an innocent question led to this entire ordeal, “You look good.”

Silence.

His cutlery clinked against his plate as he looked up, your own hand frozen midair around your cup of coffee, him staring at you incredulously and you staring at a stain on the table, a little too afraid to look at him. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t acted like you’d told him a monumental piece of news that’s changed the entire trajectory of his life. It also shouldn’t be too much of a big deal because he’d told you you looked beautiful before, and that hadn’t been an issue.

You broke first, taking a sip and mustering the courage to look at him once more, raising your eyebrows at the utterly shocked look on his face.

“I look good?” He reiterated, speaking each syllable with his entire body. His breathing was shallow, and for a moment you worried if he was about to pass out.

“Yeah.” This time it was your turn to act like he was crazy for asking, “You always look good.”

He breathed a mirthless laugh that bled easily into one of amusement as he pointed a finger at you, “You were so checking me out last night.”

You blinked, replying blankly, “If you’d have left it five more seconds I’d have lost my mind.”

He grinned mischievously, risking a wink, “Duly noted.”

You rolled your eyes, scratching your eyebrow to try and hide your face with your hand as you stacked your plate on top of his, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

For some reason you hadn’t pushed yourself up and out of your chair very quickly. By the time Michael had tucked his chair under the table and was standing next to yours, his head turned to the side – distracted – you’d only just finished tidying up the table. And because his attention had been stolen, and because he was standing so close to your chair, when you finally did make a move to stand up…

His head snapped in your direction, the sudden motion making you flinch backwards, legs bumping awkwardly against the table, and his hand shot out, flattening against your back. If you were more honest you’d have said you didn’t need the stability: all you’d done was knock your calves against the wooden legs – but the sudden, unprompted touch on the small of your back had you freezing where you were, breath hitching in your chest against your will.

You were watching his face before, trying to pick out exactly what had caught his eye, but this time you could see when the realisation of what had happened set in: his mouth parted like he was about to say something, and his eyes were wide – probably slightly alarmed at the almost-stumble he’d seen in his periphery – and was, for lack of better words, practically hugging you to him. You were forced (though there wasn’t a single cell in your body that felt reluctant) to catch yourself in his arms to prevent yourself from being catapulted straight into him.

He wasn’t wearing a hat. Usually he did, but today he’d left the hotel room without one, and you’d never really thought twice about it or missed its presence more than you did at that moment. A hat would have given you space to think, time to not spend looking straight at him, time to not fantasise about what would happen if either of you happened to lean in at the same time, but–

He’d folded first, his gaze flicking down to your mouth for a brief moment before returning to your eyes, the palm on your back not wavering one bit. He didn’t even take a step back to let you stand up properly, but instead stood there, holding you, waiting. Waiting for some indication from you that, yes, it’s okay to close the gap.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, and you were sure he could feel it against your ribs if he concentrated hard enough, but you couldn't bring yourself to focus on that for too long. Not when the sight of him in front of you was so enticing.

You inhaled quickly, wanting to say something but not quite finding the words, and he waited once more. He only seemed to do something when you chanced a glance at his mouth, not even intending to, but also not doing anything to stop yourself from sneaking a look, and his head dipped–

“Oh, hey guys.”

It happened quickly and a lot less clumsily as to how it had started: Michael blinked at the sudden interruption, seamlessly stepping backwards and pulling you with him, his hand dropping from your back once you were safely on your feet. You were a little slower, only managing to keep your breaths even and to turn your attention away from him in time to see exactly who it was that had just shown up.

Only, your bewilderment and vertigo increased when you set your eyes on the familiar figure taking a seat on the table next to yours, completely and utterly oblivious to what almost transpired.

Sidney Crosby was sitting grinning in your direction, and your mind went blank for a whole host of different reasons. The main one being Sidney Crosby was grinning at you. You were vaguely aware of Michael’s hurried motions, placing your hat on top of your head after a quick greeting. You heard your name, and you smiled politely.

Your face didn’t feel like your own, you were aware of moving your cheek muscles, but everything felt strangely foreign.

And then Sid was looking at your cap, and suddenly you were back in your own body.

“Cool hat.” He pointed, leaning sideways on his chair, and your smile broadened.

“Yeah, Pittsburgh Penguins, maybe you’ve heard of them?”

He laughed, feet kicking slightly under the table, and you felt Michael stiffen next to you, “I don’t think I’m familiar, no. They any good?”

You shrugged, “Won a couple of cups, made us locals proud. There’s this guy, Sidney Crosby, he’s pretty cool.”

He pretended to pull a face, “Oh, I know that guy.” He sighed, shaking his head.

“You don’t like him?”

“Hate that guy.”

***

“What the fuck.” Taylor all but yelped through the screen once you’d done a quick rehash of events, before falling completely silent, her head in her hands.

You nodded, “I know. I got Sidney Cros–”

“Fuck Sidney Crosby, babe. With all due respect, fuck that guy.”

You swallowed, “Yeah, okay.”

“What are you gonna do about Michael?”

“We haven’t really talked since the wedding.” You mumbled sadly.

***

A meal was all you had. In three months, all you managed to snag of his time was a home cooked meal in your new apartment, and even then he couldn’t stay for more than a few hours. You didn’t just have to worry over the fact that things had clearly changed since the wedding, but you had to worry about cooking him a meal that adhered to his plan of what he could and couldn’t eat, and it had to be edible.

So, it was safe to say you were feeling a lot of pressure. Cooking at work was completely different to cooking at home: not only were you usually too exhausted to even cook something that nice when you got in, but there was something personal about cooking for people you know. It always felt like they were judging what you’d made, trying to decide if you were good at your job or not. Sometimes it felt like a make or break deal. If they didn’t like your food, they wouldn’t like you.

And while that had never been the case for Michael, tonight felt different. For starters, it felt like you’d had to fight tooth and nail to even get him to come over for a few hours, which was new.

In all honesty, you were even hesitant in the entire…ordeal. Because that’s what it was, really, it wasn’t a quick catch-up, it was an ordeal. The last time you’d felt this nervous was when you were back in school, and gosh you didn’t miss the feeling at all.

He knocked three times and you had to stop stirring the pasta (shocker!) sauce to answer the door.

“Hey.” He sighed, flashing a tired smile, and in that instant all your anxieties seemed to diminish. They hadn’t disappeared completely, but it was as though the volume had been turned down, and you could breathe easily.

“Hi.” You answered almost breathlessly, and his brows jumped up his forehead in amusement, the small crinkle of a smile making an appearance, “I feel bad for pestering you now. You look exhausted.”

He shook his head, “Don’t, I’m glad I came.”

And then he did something he’d never done to you before: he leaned in and he pressed a delicate kiss on your cheek. The exact place he’d touched with his lips seemed to flame before you even registered what he’d done, and in that same moment, you were catapulted back to Toronto. Tucked next to each other under a blanket, an episode of The Mentalist on, both of you utterly immersed in the plot.

You blinked, not entirely sure where that had come from, and grinned, his scent filling your senses, soon to bleed into your apartment and your couch and your cushions. The one thing you loved about having him around was that you could tell he’d been here even days later: whether it be the faint smell of his cologne when you sat down or the plants that had been purposefully switched around on the windowsill – something you tended to notice when you finally crashed, and it never failed to put a smile on your face.

“This place is adorable.” He commented, easing himself onto the couch, feet up and reorganising the cushions around him, and all you could do was stand off to the side, simply watching him get settled.

“Adorable wasn’t what I was going for.”

“What were you going for?”

“Cosy.”

He hummed, tearing his eyes away from you to have another quick glance around, “It’s that too.” And then he rounded back to you, still hanging around in between the living room and the kitchen, not really wanting to leave him alone but much too devoted to the food to even think about asking him to follow you in there, “How are you doing?”

You shrugged, “I’m really happy here.”

He fell asleep straight after he finished eating.

***

His stuff was everywhere: boxes and bags stacked and piled and thrown in the right rooms; zips unzipped and lids open, objects and clothes and cutlery scattered across floors like he’d picked up a handful and left a trail of nuts for you to track his steps.

It was a mess, but it was a reassuring mess. You hadn’t really believed him until he’d shown up at the airport, and even then it had taken three days for you to actually comprehend the luck of it all. It took you fourteen minutes to walk to his apartment, now. Not over an hour on the plane, not counting the taxis and waiting for your luggage.

Quite frankly, it blew your mind.

It had taken you so long to adjust to even being friends with him, to then adjusting to him moving to Raleigh when you were still in Toronto, to then adjusting to you in Pittsburgh and him still in Raleigh…and now you were both in Pittsburgh and it had taken you approximately three days to get used to it. Not weeks, not months where you’d keep forgetting you couldn’t just show up outside his apartment.

You’d caught yourself laughing at it on more than one occasion.

For now, though, despite the welcome mess (as proof of life), you were looking straight at him. You’d caught yourself doing that a lot lately, but there was a reason this time – not just a genuine wonder at his mere presence.

He walked back into the room, arms stretched out in front of him, clearly assessing the new jersey, and you swore, right then and there, that you’d never loved him more. For all his shit-talking on the Pens over the years, he was now wearing their jersey, much to your appreciation.

“I like it.” You spoke first from your position on his couch, your arm in the box of merch and kit he’d been given (he’d allowed you to have free reign over some of the items, all you had to do was ask him first), your teeth briefly scraping over your bottom lip. It wasn’t the first time he’d worn a black jersey, but it was the first time he’d worn one with a Penguin on the front and yellow text that spelt his name on the back, “A lot.”

You were grinning, and when he looked up to see you shaking with glee, he shook his head, huffing an amused laugh, “Of course you do.”

“I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to you not wearing blue yet, though.” You muttered, and he nodded, mouth flattening but face somehow still smiling.

“I do miss it, but I think I’m getting used to it.” He shrugged, before grabbing the front of the jersey by the NHL logo and chucking it off his shoulders and throwing it straight at your face, “You can keep that one if you want, I’m not short of any.” You heard him say, his voice slightly muffled by the fabric, and you pulled it from over your eyes, hand wrapped in the material – to see his cheeks flush at your expression. It seemed to worsen when you dropped your eyes to his bare torso.

“Thanks.” You averted your eyes quickly, instead focusing on smoothing the jersey out in your lap, fingers tracing the penguin before flipping it over for his name. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him reach into the box next to you and pull out a few t-shirts before a cap was in his hands and he was brandishing the logo in your face.

“Have you seen one of these before?” He asked, pointing to the circular black and yellow logo: the Pens motif was in the top half of the circle with two crossed-over sticks in the bottom half, and you shook your head.

“I don’t think so.”

He spun it around in his fist, eyes flicking from the hat to your face, “You want it?”

You hesitated, “Are you sure you’re allowed to let me have some of this stuff? I feel like they’re giving you different kits because you’re actually part of the organisation and that normal people aren’t supposed to have them.”

He blinked, jaw clenching as he took in your words. And before you could even say anything else, he placed the hat rather lopsidedly on top of your head and rifled back through the pile of clothes for the sheet of paper before throwing himself down next to you, the piece of paper held out so you could read it too.

You felt a bit pathetic at how quickly you felt your pulse start to pick up at the contact: his entire torso was leant against your shoulder, and although it meant you got an unobstructed view of…everything, and although you appreciated it, at the same time it felt a bit cruel. Like dangling a bone in front of a dog.

“It doesn’t say I can’t give it away.” He mumbled, turning to face you, his forehead bumping the brim of the cap. You blinked in surprise, but didn’t miss the way his eyes just casually flickered down to your lips, or the way his hand dropped down, still clutching the sheet, once he realised you’d not actually been looking at the words.

He’d caught you looking at him.

You cleared your throat, cheeks flaring but not too ashamed considering you’d just caught him looking at you, and his eyes zipped back to your face, an awkward silence ensuing. Neither of you moved. You didn’t know if you were too scared to ruin the moment or if you were physically frozen by what could have happened – could still happen. Stillness seemed to be key. His breath was fanning softly against your face, and you were sure the same went for you.

It was eerily similar to the whole Sid-situation. Only this time you were in the privacy of his own home, he was notably shirtless and the risk of getting interrupted was low, but not entirely zero.

You felt your own lips part at the same time his head moved an inch closer as though he was testing the waters, but before you could even think about leaning in, his mouth was moving.

What?

His cheeks reddened, and the blush seemed to travel down his neck and bleed into his collarbones, his attention now flicking between you and something off to the side, clearly too nervous to even look at you and speak.

“I asked if you were free on Thursday?” He whispered, his gaze travelling back down to the piece of paper still in his hand.

He hadn’t moved away from you but the stab of disappointment at the lack of his attention and the realisation that he’d chosen not to kiss you was profoundly disturbing. You didn’t like it, the way you practically yearned for him. The idea that your enjoyment in life was tied to what a random man did or didn’t do was absurd, and if you were being honest with yourself, you did feel a bit pathetic that you’d let it get to that point.

He was your best friend, for fuck’s sake. You weren’t supposed to actually fall in love with him – that was something that only happened in the movies or in novels.

But…he was kind, he was funny, he was charming, he clearly cared for you.

Did he feel the same way? It was impossible to tell in your eyes. Sure, it had just looked like he wanted to eat you, and you’d caught him looking at you like you hung the entire galaxy before, but who’s to say he didn’t look at other people like that?

And in all honesty, you’d spent so much time trying to not look at him that you’d given him plenty of opportunities to (if he did) sneak glances at you when you weren’t looking.

You sighed, folding the jersey, acting like his skin on your forearm wasn’t burning. Like you were completely normal being in his presence, “I should be, yeah. How come?”

He raised a brow, shyly turning back to you, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out?”

Something fluttered in your chest – it felt an awful lot like hope, and when you answered, your voice sounded off. You weren’t breathless, so to say, but your voice cracked and sounded ropey to your own ears, “Go out where?”

The question almost felt futile, especially with the wry smile he just sent your way. You had a feeling, but even thinking the feeling out loud in your head felt like you were about to jinx it, so you fought to keep your mind quiet. Everything else though (heart rate, blood rushing, the feel of his fingers tapping rhythmically against the inside of your wrist), that was loud.

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek when he looked down at where he was delicately touching your wrist. His motions stopped, but the warmth never left.

“With me, I was hoping.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, and you held your breath the entire time, a part of you wanting to make sure you’d just heard him correctly and weren’t imagining it, “Like a date.”

“A date.” You echoed, flipping your wrist over completely so your palm was pointing to the ceiling. He didn’t tear his eyes away from your hand, but you could feel his heart thumping through his back from where he’d pressed himself against your shoulder and a smile fell naturally on your face. It wasn’t a big smile, but it was soft. The kind of smile that was only ever really reserved for him.

His hand didn’t falter in its motions as he dragged his fingers down the inside of your wrist to swirl a pattern on your palm, fingers tracing the lines and creases gently.

It took everything in you not to scream.

He just hummed, and when you tore your gaze away from the side of his face – he wasn’t giving much away – his chest was thumping in time with his pulse. Was it possible for nerves to make him catatonic? You’d never seen him this nervous yet so calm and collected at the same time.

You inhaled, feeding your starved lungs, and tried not to shudder when his fingers slowed only to tangle and interlock with yours. It was like he was testing it out, seeing how you fit together, whether your personalities blended as well as your bodies did–

You felt yourself blush at that insinuation, and squeezed his hand, prompting him to look at you instead of away.

He did so slowly, first peeking at you out of the corner of his eye with a small breath of relief when he saw you weren’t annoyed. Then he turned his entire head towards you, leaning back so he wouldn’t knock into the hat again, and his mouth twisted, still awaiting your reply.

“Have you been wanting to ask that for a while, or…”

His stare went blank, and you could tell her was trying not to roll his eyes at your teasing questions, obviously stalling to get a rise out of him. It was working, “Put me out of my misery first.”

“Okay.”

He blinked, leaning forwards slightly, “Okay I’ll go on a date or okay I’ll put you out of your misery?”

“Both.”

He smiled, using his free hand to swipe at his nose and look away briefly, flustered. His chest was still pink and blotchy and you nudged him playfully with your elbow, “Your turn.”

“Uh…” He hesitated, “maybe, like, since you told me I don’t look like a Michael.”

You stared at him, jaw unhinged and dropped in shock, “But that was–”

“Two-ish years ago, yeah.” He nodded, pulling a face at himself, “What can I say? You charmed me.”

“But I was rude to you..”

“I wouldn’t say rude–”

“I wanted you to not like me.”

He froze, “You did?”

“Yeah.”

“It had the opposite effect.”

And then you laughed. Right in his face, not very loudly, but you laughed at him altogether, “You liked me when I couldn’t stand you, I would’ve said no.”

He rolled his eyes, flicking the underside brim of the cap he’d given you, “Good job I held out then, isn’t it? At what point would you have said yes?”

“When you left for Raleigh.”

“Wow.”

“You gotta remember, I was in a relationship for a while–”

“Oh, that guy.” He muttered, bitterly, "I think I blocked that out-"

You interrupted him, leaning closer to briefly press your mouth against his, effectively shutting him up. Even at the brief contact, and even as you were pulling away you could feel the relief of it dissipate from your shoulders, like a worn out elastic band had finally snapped. You paused, a breath away from him, and his eyes slowly blinked open having tried to chase your mouth.

Even despite that, he still maintained his grin, "That's a good tactic." He muttered, hand sliding up the side of your neck as his thumb slid gently and delicately across your jawbone. His eyes zeroed in on the motion, clearly enjoying the way your skin reacted to his touch, goosebumps rising to the surface and eliciting a shiver of pleasure from you.

It was barely three second of contact, but it had changed your genetic makeup.

He was addictive, even the smug look on his face as he pressed his forehead against yours, chin bumping towards yours. You held you breath in anticipation, eyes instinctively fluttering shut - it was difficult to ignore the pounding of your heart or the tingling beneath his fingers.

"Noted." You breathed, unable to help smiling at his tone, "You gonna make me wait until Thursday now-"

"It's rude to keep a lady waiting." Was his answer.

#michael bunting x reader #michael bunting imagine #michael bunting oneshot #michael bunting fic #nhl player x reader #hockey player x reader #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot

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xokohaneazusawa · 4 months ago

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hello i have a bllk request!

can i request isagi, bachira, chigiri, nagi, reo, kuni, the itoshi brothers and barou with a socially awkward gf/crush who (kinda) hates kids?

like reader doesn’t HATE hate kids, but is like scared of them. kids are actually scary especially gen alpha 💀. how tf are these little gremlins watching skibidi toilet with a straight face just a short clip of it literally made me and my friends so uncomfortable we couldn’t continue 💀.

so more like she can watch kids from afar, and if she saw one in public, she wouldn’t throw a rock at it or call animal control. but talking to them? interacting with them?? HELL NO SHE CANT DO THAT.

it’s kinda like how we see zoo animals. best admired from afar, and if she ever gets stuck in an empty room with them, she’s screwed. as if talking to adults and teenagers wasn’t scary enough, their school just had to pick an orphanage/children’s hospital to volunteer at. she’s hiding in the corner watching her bf/crush deal with the like 7-year olds (maybe younger, who btw, were most likely bullying her just now.) wondering why and how people could stand those little gremlins.

(better still, if they go back to his place after the school volunteering activity and his parent(s)/sister jokingly mention grandkids/nieces/nephews and she’s like “ew i hate kids” or smth like that, but maybe more discreet idk how to tell even my own parents i hate children, let alone my (nonexistent) bf’s parents 💀)

once again it’s not that she actually hates kids, but sees them as a different species and can’t deal with them because they scare her, and sometimes bully her. 💀

ik you probably have a lot of requests but i kinda need SOME way to overcome my crippling fear of children.

i hope you like this idea tho and i really love your writing 🫶🫶🫶

Ngl this is actually so me, I love this idea so much- But the best part is the fact that I actually worked with kids for almost 2 years, and my friends club has us interacting with kids too... (I tried to do most of the characters but I had no ideas for some of them, but you can always re-request with the ones that I missed and the second I think of some ideas I'll def write it!!)

Isagi Yoichi -> Do we not remember when that one kid stopped him after the u-20 match.. Bro is good with kids, so luckily he can save you

-> He will slightly chuckle at you when you show up to this place where the children (gremlins) are at you slightly freak out, and he will laugh at you even more when your awkwardly standing in the corner because your way to freaked out to actually go talk to any of these kids

-> Has to keep reminding the kids not to laugh at you, and that your just not the best socially

-> Eventually tries to find you one of those kids who are also standing away from everybody else for you to interact with, both of y’all have something in common, you hate the other kids!

-> He will very much get confused on this skibidi toilet bullshit (who isn’t, tbh-) but he’ll sit through it so they can be entertained while he tries to make sure that your still alive in the corner

-> If you actually started talking to the kid that he sent your way he’ll be kinda proud, I mean obviously it’s not the other 10 kids he has with him, but it’s a step in the right direction!

-> If not he gets it, I mean what he’s watching with them right now is downright terrifying, so why wouldn’t the minds who consume it also be terrifying

-> Later on when you two finally end up heading back to his house he tells his parents about how you two were volunteering with children and when they offhandedly mention that it would be nice to have grandchildren in the future he can only laugh.

“Yeah.. Unless I can get (Name) to stop hiding in a corner when they see a child then maybe..”

Reo Mikage

-> He grew up as an only child and I’m assuming he didn’t have a bunch of friends when he was growing up so I don’t think he would be the absolute best with kids, but still better than others

-> The kids will be a little confused when he starts trying to teach them about business and economics saying that this was the age he started learning about running a business

-> They might end up gravitating towards you since you’re just kinda confused along with them, trying to explain to him not every kid grew up with their future of running a family company.

-> Will totally laugh when he sees how freaked out you are with these little (gremlins) kids trying to get your attention and asking if your any more fun than Mr.Business (Which they had nicknamed Reo) -> Will eventually learn and get them to leave you alone, after almost 10 minutes of you trying to hide behind him or anywhere else in this room so they can’t talk to you

-> Ends up helping them instead with other things like reading and math stuff, not the brain rot of skibidi toilet (thank god)

-> That night you two had ended up going out to dinner with his parents as they wanted to have a nice sit down meal while they talked about what was possibly coming up in the future, including your future with Reo, and kids. He smiled and took your hand in his.

“After today, I don’t think we’ll have to worry about an heir to the Mikage Corp for quite a while of time”

Kunigami Rensuke

-> BRO HAS TWO SISTERS, One older and one younger, Man knows his way around kids, for sure. I take no criticism on this.

-> Is actually so good with kids, you now are speculating that he’s actually a single teen dad with like 2 kids or something that he just hasn’t told you about. He’s that good (it’s actually scary)

-> He will not let them watch skibidi toilet, another man who is respectable and makes sure they are doing educational stuff

-> Also makes sure they stay away from you for the most part, just because he knows that you don’t like having all those kids near you, but he may or may not send one over your way that he thinks that you’ll actually get along with

-> He wants to see what you would be like if you actually interacted with a kid, it’s his future brain thinking

-> That also brings up to the day that his parents (and his sisters) have asked you both about having children in the future, he would just chuckle and ruffle your hair a little

“Unless I would be the only one communicating with the little one then I don’t see us having kids for quite a bit of time.”

Sae Itoshi

-> Worst person to have around kids. I mean did you see how he treated his own little brother, smh. (DROP WHAT HAPPENED IN SPAIN, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS)

-> Does not know how to act around kids, just basically lets them do whatever as long as they aren’t bothering the two of you

-> To bad kids don’t listen all that well and he basically has to keep glaring at them from where he is sat at the only bigger table in the room with you, because these kids keep trying to get your attention since they know Sae isn’t gonna give them anything, which sucks for you

-> Attempts to try something once he realizes that you're actually pretty horrible with kids, let's just say the soccer he tried to play with them didn’t go all that well.. And you may or may not have had to get over your fear a little since a bunch of crying kids kept coming over to you

-> To which he figured that this wasn’t the way to go about it so he just put on some random movie he remembers from when he was a kid, too bad it was one of the ones from his flight to Spain when he was younger and it was all in Spanish. (It’s okay, they had fun trying to figure out what the hell it said, and it kept them entertained for quite a bit of time.)

-> Once the whole future and children conversation came up with his parents, he could only roll his eyes.

“Yeah, no thanks. (Name) and I couldn’t handle one of those gremlins, even if it looked or acted like us.”

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi yoichi #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage #kunigami rensuke x reader #kunigami rensuke #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #xokohaneazusawa’s writings!

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fictioonbanger · 1 year ago

Note

speed racer eren being jealous pleaseeeeeseee

race car driver eren!<3 [2]

[just now seeing this so hopefully it hasn’t been LONG, and literally FABULOUS req..]

warnings; jealousy, smut, riding, missionary, etc >

speedracer!eren; who was standing next to his racing car on the track, talking to his crew members. eren had a big race today, it’s not like this was something new though. eren had been racing for awhile already and won so many of them, with you being at every single one. you never missed one, so why didn’t eren see you in the stands yet. usually you’d be there right in the front leaning over the metal low gate keeping the race on the other side, waving to him with a big smile and blowing kisses. but you weren’t and eren had began getting a little worried, still looking around in spots that you wouldn’t usually be in. hearing your soft laughter bounce of his ears, eren whipped his head in the same direction with a big smile plastered on his face. there you were, looking beautiful as always, with a big smile on your face as you laughed more. it confused him a bit that you were in the entrance way instead of sitting. eren was so caught up in your beauty that he hadn’t realized the muscled arm that peaked over the wall as you spoke to the person infront of you. his mood changed quick, who were you talking to? why were you talking to them? who’s fucking arm was that? and what could be so funny that you’d laugh out loud like that? only eren made you laugh that way, or so he thought. eren began to march his way towards you, his crew members very confused. “m-mr. eren! where are you going?! the race is about to start!” one of his members spoke up and instead of acknowledging what they spoke, he turned to give them a deadpan look, them nodding their heads as a “sorry” . eren turned and began to finish his way towards you, you finally had realized eren and smiled even bigger. doing a small run to him wrapping your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. eren didn’t look at you or even acknowledge the kiss you gave him. automatically you knew something was wrong, looking at erens eyes that were starring at the wall. seeing the flick of a lighter and a hand covering it to light his cigarette the person walked from behind the wall. it was his opponent, jean. all dressed in his racer outfit taking a drag out his cigarette.

speedracer!eren; who quickly turned his head to look down at you expecting a explanation. now, it was pretty obvious on how much jean and eren hated each other. trying to push each other off the tracks of the race, bumping heads anytime they’d both have to sit for a double meet and great, trying to be better than the other at anything and everything. you felt a bit uncomfortable with the tension as the two starred each other down. “eren..i was just telling jean about your recent win last race!” you smiled at eren, that dropping seeing how worked up he had seemed. “how come you look so pale renny boy? scared you’ll lose the race.. and your wife.” jean mumbled those last words hitting a long drag of his cigarette before dropping it to step and twist his shoe on it to burn it out. he walked up towards you two, eren slightly moving a hand infront of you and making you step back a bit. “thanks for the company sweetness.” jean smirked at you, all you did was nod not looking at him. you could see how eren was acting and really didn’t want to add onto it. “race’s about to start, we should get to the track yeah renny?” he chuckled loudly before smiling at you again and walking toward the track. eren didn’t say a word, silent the whole time as you both stood there. “ren-“ you tried to speak up, grabbing his shoulder. eren looked at you deadly, now walking up more on you and starring down at you. he grabbed your chin and peered into your eyes pulling your face closer to him. “i’ll see you after the race.” was all he said in his rasped voice as he let you go and walked off. not speaking another word following behind jean to reach the track. you didn’t understand the issue, i mean you DID know about their history.. but didn’t think it was such a big issue.

speedracer!eren; who of course won the game without breaking a sweat, people in the stands cheered for him behind you as you leaned over the gate. waiting for eren to come to you as he usually did after winning. he didn’t, instead walking off the track and going to collect his medal. you were dumbfounded, he was ignoring you, like you weren’t there. why? cause you spoke to his stupid rival to brag to him about eren. it’s not like you were flirting with the man god no, jean was a good looking man, his personality just not so the same. you left the stands to find eren, finding him talking to the owner of the stadium the race was at. accepting his trophy for winning and taking pictures with fans, once again eren had not even glanced at you. you stood there arms crossed as you watched him finish up, eren sighed as everyone left his sight and looked at you with a smirk shaking his head. you were really confused now, what was he smiling at? like he didn’t just death stare and ignore you. eren walked up to you trophy in hand and stood there looking at you for a bit. he slid his free hand on your waste to pull you closer to him, him leaning down to speak into your ear. “i’m gonna fuckin ruin you tonight pretty.” you were shocked from his words, but also a little (lot) turned on. eren moved back up so you could see his face as he let a smirk creep his lips. you didn’t say anything, only walking beside eren as he held your hand bringing you to his car. the parking lot was empty as the last cars began to leave, eren hadn’t cut the car on. sitting there and watching out the window, seemingly looking around to see if everyone was gone. and when the coast was clear he unbuckled his seatbelt, groaning from exhaustion and stretching out a bit. he leaned his hair chair back too, you watched all his actions not having a single clue of what he could be possibly doing.

speedracer!eren; who was tapping the arm rest like he was thinking, looking out at the empty lot. you looked at him and decided to speak up, shifting in your seat to face him. “ren.. are you upset at me?” you asked in a hush tone to not disturb his thoughts. he stopped taping and looked at you and didn’t speak, just taking in your appearance. eyeing your body and your helpless face. “cause if you are i-“ “suck it.” you looked up at him with wide eyes confused on his words. “w-what?” eren sighed and started unbuckling his belt, your eyes adverting towards the bulge pushing from his pants. “did i stutter? suck it.” you swallowed at his words, starring at him then looking at his print. you slowly moved to lean over the seat placing your hands on erens pants to help undo them. he watched you with low eyes, tangling his fingers in your braids waiting for you to take him. you finally released his dick, his tip pink and plush already glistening from pre cum. you looked up at eren once more, turning your attention back on his dick. you rubbed your thumb on his tip to spread his pre cum, placing soft kisses on it. eren was breathing hardly watching your every move with a fist full of your hair. you took him fully into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down at a slow pace. eren groaned loudly once he felt your lips on him, tilting his head back to rest it on the seat. starring at the roof of his car with a mouth wide open, soft moans leaving his lips as you jerked him off. he looked down at you, hair infront of his eyes, he saw you just slowly jerking his dick. eren gripped at your hair more causing you to wince, he tilted your head back to look up at him. “did i tell you to stop?” eren tilted his head waiting for your response, you slowly shook your head no. eren hated when you didn’t use your words, you knew that. he guided your head back to his dick, taking it in his own hands and giving soft taps on your cheek with it. “what’d we say about using our words baby?” eren said holding his leaking dick infront of your face, centimeters away from your lips. “mm, no ren..you didn’t tell me to stop.” you spoke out softly starring at his dick waiting to put it back in your mouth. “then suck my dick like i said beautiful, you know it’s yours. act like it.”eren smirked before pushing your mouth fully on his cock.

speedracer!eren; who never took you both home that night instead fucking you silly in his black tinted car. having you ride him all night for talking to jean, yet alone be around him. “he couldn’t fuck you like this baby i s-swear.” eren moaned out as he fucked himself into you, balls slapping against your ass with every quick thrust. you had your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him closer towards you as you grind on his dick. both your cum mixing under where you were sitting on eren. “o-only you make me feel good ren..” you whispered in his ear, that’s all he needed to hear before flipping your back onto the backseats. he did a slow deep stroke before you could process the position change. you’ve came with eren more than 4 times it was so obvious you were both so overstimulated with the pleasure of each other. eren was a moaning mess above you, telling you how good your pussy is and how no one could ever make you feel the way he makes you. “h-hate when you talk to other men..especially l-like jean. he’s no good.” eren said this falling into your scent now leaning down to place wet kisses on your neck and the crook of your collarbone. thrusting deep into you, his strokes were reaching for something. to come inside of you, making you a babbling mess under him. “i-mm! i won’t ren! fuck!” you tilted your head back as your eyes rolled you were gonna cum and he could feel it. the way you clenched around him, keeping him in as he kept rutting into your dripping cunt. “good baby..fuck! now cum on my dick yeah? with me please..” you moaned out a loud response, hands gripping on erens flexing arms. eren did a loud sigh and began pumping into you faster, shooting all his cum inside of you, moaning your name loudly and not with a care in the world. “f-fuck baby! ‘m cumming ren!” you squirmed under him, cumming and clenching on his dick. moaning and leaning up to kiss ren passionately, it seemed he was wanting the same. he slowed his pace, still thrusting in while you moan each stroke. he finally pulled out and placed peppered kisses all over you, as he smirked. he seemed so achieved, especially with his win today. mans pride was through the roof, but it didn’t bother you.

#black reader #black y/n #eren jeager x reader #eren x black y/n #eren jeager smut #eren x y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x reader #eren x black reader smut #eren smut #eren jeager x y/n #eren x you

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freshlluv · 3 months ago

Text

distraction - m.s

summary: after a painful conversation with Matt, where he harshly ended your friendship, you are left heartbroken and confused

warnings: sad, bsfmatt, cussing, use of y/n, not proofread

word count: 1.1k

a/n: this is kinda really bad lmfao

my inbox is always open to requests <3

You sat alone in your room in the middle of your bed. Has it ever been this quiet? The cars from outside would drive past your apartment, that’s all you can hear. It’s only 8pm and I have nothing to do. You quietly sobbed

Matt just dropped me off. That’s all I can remember.

Nick called you

N: “Y/n?”

You: “Nick?

What happened?”

N: “Matt is crying. What the fuck happened in that car ride?”

You: “Oh. I..” You didn’t want to think about it honestly.

Flashback

“I just don’t feel like we can be friends anymore.” Matt said, his tone dripping with disgust

“What?” You froze. He was joking. Right?

“We all talked, we just think you're a distraction.” He held the bridge of his nose.

“Did you?” You croaked out

“What did Nick say?” You were in defeat, no way Nick would actually say that. And as well as Chris?

“It doesn’t really matter what he said. I think you are a distraction” he said shifting uncomfortably in his carseat.

“Oh.” Your heart broke into a million pieces. You’ve always liked Matt. He was your favorite.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to say. But your throat felt like it was blocked and you couldn’t even swallow. Your face was hot, you just wanted to go home.

“I’ll drop you off.” He said his words were a bit lightened.

If he never said anything I would’ve been home 10 minutes earlier.

I wouldn’t be crying.

The engine was humming, that's how loud the silence was. No words spoken, no sounds.

Nothing.

Now:

N: “Why the fuck did he say that?”

You shrugged like he could see you through the phone. Your head falls into your hands.

You: “I wish I could tell you.” Your voice a bit raspy

A few minutes pass by and it was filled with silence

N: “Hey okay I’m going to help Matt alright?” He says in an almost whisper.

You: “Alright”

You didn’t like that you had all this time on your hands to think about it, to replay it in your head over and over again.

So you got dressed and called your friend to see if you can forget it all and go to a club.

You applied the last of your mascara.

You didn’t even recognize yourself, it felt like you’ve completely alternated but that wasn’t true.

At least that’s what you were trying to force yourself to think.

You exited out of the uber and entered the club.

“God!” You yelled it was extremely loud

“Oh my god Y/n!” Her voice was slurred but anyone could recognize it’s your best friend Bri.

“You actually fuckin’ came?” She laughed and gave you her drink

“Here sip. S’good right?”

You nodded trying to not puke already, that was the most terrible drink ever but it’s beer what did you expect.

You went over to the cooler and grabbed yourself your own beer and chugged it.

“So why are ya here?” Bri asked “Did a guy break your pretty heart?” She giggled

“Something like that, remember Matt? Oh yeah he fucked me up”

Hours later, and 3 beers later. (You weren’t much of a drinker to be honest)

“Does Matt really hate me?” You thought to yourself

You’ve grown sick of being here suddenly it was too hot, too loud, too many people.

You checked your phone

3:26am

You left the club you didn’t want to get into an uber afraid you were going to puke in it.

Everyone was most likely asleep right now.

Except for one person

The phone rang on maybe until the 3rd ring

“Hello?” He groaned, his voice was deep and tired

“Matt?” You sniffled

“Y/n are you okay? Where are you?”

“IdontknowIwannagohome!” you said really fast and sobbed

“Fuck, let me keys I’m coming” You heard jangling and the call ended

The realisation quickly hits you. You called Matt, the one you literally just fought. What the fuck were you doing?

You sat at the curb, waiting for him, that's all you could do.

He pulls up, you could instantly recognize his minivan. You snickered to yourself, you always teased him about it.

You opened the passenger seat and sat down

“Are you okay?” A worried look plastered on his face

You nodded, your lips jutting. Trying not to cry

“Listen Y/n I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-” He realized it might not be the best time to talk so he just drove.

“I have a bag here um, just throw up in there I guess” He place the bag in my lap

“Matt, you never told me what I was distracting you from.” you swallowed

“I never meant it. I thought you were.. Distracting me from.. Our videos.” he admitted embarrassed. “I’m sorry” he whispered looking at me “Also heres a jacket it’s fucking cold out here”

You hummed as he threw the jacket over your shoulders.

Holding tightly on the jacket around your shoulders you fell asleep.

We arrived at my apartment

“Y/n” He tapped my shoulder “We’re here”

I shook “Huh?” I looked around, noticing my apartment. I slipped off the jacket and took off my seatbelt.

“Thank you so much.” You smiled

“Of course, but, Y/n look I’m sorry.” The moonlight shined on his face, the outline of his puffy eyes indicated that he did indeed cry.

I just hugged him

“It’s okay.” You whispered into his hair

He hugged you back tightly

“Wait actually. Can you stay over?”

He smirked

“No! Fuck off not like that!” You furrowed your brows annoyed

“Yeah, yeah I know” He rolled his eyes smiling

“I don’t like sleeping alone, y’know” you said quietly

He nodded and we both got out of the car.

You got to your door and unlocked it and headed inside throwing everything to the floor, your purse, shoes. You left his jacket hanging and went into your room. Matt followed

You slipped out of your dress without a warning

Matt’s eyes widen and instantly turns around his face flushed

You threw on some sweatpants and a random big shirt (Matt’s shirt)

“Do you need any clothes?” You offered

“Nah I’m good” He cleared his throat

“C’mere” You yawned inviting him to bed. He joined you taking off his socks and stretching

Matt wraps his arms around you and plays with your hair.

“I’m sorry. Genuinely”

You looked at him “I know.” You snuggled into his chest and yawned

You fell asleep instantly, in his warm embrace.

I HATE THIS SO MUCH

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morimemichael · 6 months ago

Text

Not Allowed

Dbd!Myers x f!Reader

Reader it’s new to the realm, she gets a good first impression on everyone; killer and survivor. Tho there’s certain someone who seams to became too obsessed with her. She doesn’t get it, she thinks this killer hates her with all their guts. Sooner than later she finds that some interactions and relationships are not allowed in the realm.

WG: Some angst and cursing Michael actually talks but this is not actually a warning lol mentions of death, blood and gore. Michael and Ghostface have a bromance cause deep down they are besties. Dbd!Michael it’s based on RZ! Michael here. Use if y/n twice on the entire fic. Ghostface removes his mask. Michael removes his mask. Big old Pewpaw Kazan Yamaoka, aka, the ink is a great hugger. Happy ending(?)

You were brand new to the realm, like a new born baby. You didn’t understand what was going on, one night you went to bed and the next thing you know it’s the uncomfortable feeling of grass and wood sticks on your back. This was beyond clear that it wasn’t your bed.

You woke up scared as hell in an unknown forest to you, it’s was late at night you could tell and you didn’t met a single soul this far. All of that was vanished when the sound of what it seemed a camp fire stroked your ears, and for your surprise it wasn’t just a camp fire you could distinguish the sound of human voices too. It didn’t seem too far from were you currently were. So you walked a little faster while covering your chest with your own arms in a sutil attempt to combat the cold weather.

You stepped closer to the people in the camp fire to ask for help and maybe an answer to what was going on here. As you got closer could see a bunch of girls and a few boys. One of the girls had red hair and running clothes, the Oder one had short black hair, she was wearing glasses, the other one had also shirt hair, she was wearing a black and red shirt and loosen pants, on the other side; one of the boys was tall with very short black hair and when you herd him taking he had a british accent, the other boy had also black hair but it reached the mid of his face.

“Uhm, excuse me?” You said. Your voice low but clear. The red hair girl turned around to look at you. Suddenly everyone stopped talking.

“Oh my god…” The red hair girl stated. “Guys…I think we have a new partner!” She continued.

Everyone smiled at you and presented themselves. It turned out the red hair girl’s name was Meg Thomas, the girl with the glasses was Claudette Morel, the other girl was Nea Karlson, the British guy was David King and the other guy was Jake Park.

“Did you just arrived?” Claudette asked.

“Yeah…I don’t know where I am.” You stated.

“What’s your name girl?” Meg asked.

“Where are you from?” Another question, this time Jake.

“She’s gonna need a lot of help.” You herd David talking.

“Guys, why don’t we just let her sit with us and let her talk?” Nea said. It was the first time she talked.

You smiled for the first time.

You sat next to Meg and Nea and proceeded to tell every detail about you, your name, your age, where were you from. You told them that last night you had a fight with your parents and when you went to sleep you woke up here.

“We get you, we really do.” Jake spoke.

Everyone told you their personal story. How they end up here, but most important of all they told you what was going on in this place.

“There’s uhm…there’s something that we call the entity, that rules all of this place. She can do what she pleases with us and with everyone.” Nea talked looking at you.

“To survive and to keep every thing, no matter how small it might be, here with us, like some food and water, we have to go through trials.” Jake explained.

“Trials?” You asked confused.

“Yeah, we must repair five generators to open the exit gates.” Meg continued.

“That’s it? Just five generators? It’s a piece of cake…” you laughed.

“I wouldn’t say that if i were you…” David looked at you.

“Why not?” You talked back.

David sight, then he explained the most difficult part.

“We must face a killer that will be with us in the same place.”

“WHAT!? A real killer? Like from slasher movies?” You stated.

“Yes, a real killer.” David stated.

“N-no, no, I wanna go home, please!” You yell at the sky hopping this entity would hear you and somehow pity you.

Everyone looked at you with sad eyes, they knew you weren’t going home anytime sooner.

“Wish we could do something about it, I’m so sorry.” Jake spoke again after a long time.

You moved your head to the sides and looked down, a long sigh scapes your mouth. “Shit…” that’s all that came from you. Everyone remained silent for a while until you spoke again.

“So, how this trial thing works?”

“Well, the entity select some of us for the trial, four survivors to be exact. To help you in the trial you can carrie an object with you, this objects being a toolbox or a flashlight or a med kit and others. Every object has their own use, the toolbox can be use on the generators or to sabotage the hooks the killer use to hook us, by the way; the killer’s main goal is to hook us all in those hooks, flashlights are meant to blind the killer and save your teammates that se going to get hook, and last but not least the med kit as its name suggests can be use to heal yourself or your teammates. Also when you get hook-“ Claudette was interrupted by survivors who just came back from a trial. Four survivors emerged from the dar fog of this place.

“Gosh, that trial was so easy, I need something more challenging!” A young girl with blonde hair spoke.

“Hey Laurie, who was the killer this time?” David asked her.

Laurie? Like the same Laurie from the Halloween movies? You thought to yourself. The intrigue of knowing if you were right was eating your brain, you know you wouldn’t last any longer so you had to ask her.

“The trickster.” This girl said looking at David.

“Uhm excuse me, Laurie? Like Laurie Strode form the Halloween movies?” You finally asked her.

“Yes! I’m her. You must be new right?” She smiled back at you.

“Yes, in fact I got here a few moments ago.” You then proceed to present yourself.

“So nice to meet you! I know we’re gonna be good friends, watcha say new girl?” Laurie had a content face. New girl huh? You liked the new nickname.

“I hope so! By the way I loved that nickname!” Laurie smiled back at your words.

Nea joined your conversation with Laurie explaining further more how the trials work.

“Continuing with the trials, we’re gonna spawn in a map. In this map you will find certain constructions you can use to loop the killer, evade them or confuse them.

“Ok.” You listen very carefully to what Nea said.

Sooner than later you realize that some of the survivors that came with Laurie were from the Resident Evil game franchise. Leon and Jill were here, you wondered if others form the same games were too. You smiled when you saw Chris and Claire in this place too. You presented yourself like you did with everyone else and they seemed to like you as much as the rest did.

“We should tell you that some survivors came along with their respective killers, generally they are related to them. For example, Leon and me came along with Nemesis.” Jill explained.

“So…if you guys came along with Nemesis that means you Laurie came along with M-“

“Yes, I came along with Michael Myers.” She finished the sentence for you. The second you hear that afirmation you knew you no longer wanted to get back home.

“Gosh that’s awesome! I love the Halloween movies, as much as the Resident Evil games or the Scream movies. I love Halloween season so much, and Halloween loves me.” You gave the guys a mischievous smile.

“That’s great! But do let me tell you that most of the killers aren’t nice as us survivors. Some of them lack empathy and act rude. Tho I have to say some killers are nice sometimes.” Leon’s voice was calm but it sounded firm.

“I see, so uhm…Michael?” Your question was meant to find out how he acts in this place.

“Well, Michael has his “I think I could spare you” moments sometimes, but most of the time he just hooks us…he’s very accurate I would say.” Laurie didn’t have anything left to say about Michael.

You couldn’t help but feel a mix of disappointment and excitement, you wanted to face him so bad by now. Eventually the time for your first trial came, thankfully you weren’t alone, Laurie got picked too. You asume that the most optimal object to take with yourself for your first trial was med kit.

Soon the trial started and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw that the killer you were going against was none other than Michael Myers himself. You were over excited, you wanted to say hi, let him know how much you liked his movies. You wander how he was going to act this time, you assumed since you were new maybe he could spare you. He was lurking near the generator you were currently working on, unaware you were conscious he was there.

Something inside you made you leave the generator and get closer to Michael. You could see he was stalking Jill, who was also picked with you, David was here too, somewhere on the map. You got closer and closer to Michael until you were near his back. The sound of a wood stick breaking under your feet gave you away. He stopped on his track and tilted his head to the left making you know he heard you. Your heart was ricing at this point. He turned around completely to face you. You could hear him breathing behind his mask. His blueish eyes analyzing you. The leafs under his feet made a cracking noise as he slowly walked towards you. Walking in circles around you he kept looking you up and down. Something form you caught his attention, maybe you reminded him form someone, he didn’t know. One thing was certain, besides looking you he was also stalking you. He made a final step in front of you, this time he was very near you. You instantly thought it was your end when he lifted his kitchen knife at you. You closed your eyes ready to get hit and downed, but the empty feeling of nothing tearing your flesh apart made you open your eyes. Yes, he was still there but his didn’t made a single move against you, he didn’t even tried to down you.

“I-i uhm know you! I love your movies.” You didn’t know why you said that. You felt so stupid. He didn’t answer of course he just tilted his head to the left.

He started moving forward through the map that’s stroke you late it was Haddonfield. You were following him, you didn’t fully understand why he didn’t try to kill you or stab you. Asking him questions didn’t seemed a bad idea to you tho. “So, how you end up here?” And another one “How long have you been here?” And another “Why don’t you talk?”, “Don’t you miss your home?”, “I told you i love your movies right? I think i did..” You even told him your name and your age and the place you came form, even how you end up here. But he never answered, all he did was stopping whenever you asked something and turn around to look at you.

Later than sooner you realize he was heading toward Laurie, who happened to see all the interactions between Michael and you.

“New girl? What are you doing?! RUN!” She screamed at you. She stepped forward to grab your hand, and just as she saw Michael was going for you she stepped in the middle of you to. Michael grabbed her instead. He grabbed Laurie by the throat and buried the long kitchen knife in her abdomen.

“OH MY GOD LAURIE!” You scream in panic. The young blond girl struggled against Michael who buried the knife deeper fully killing her.

“LEAVE HER ALONE PLEASE, DON’T HURT HER!” Blood leaving Laurie’s body as he throws her on the street asphalt. He lowered his knife for a second and walked to your side, he looked again at you, this time inches away from your face. You closed your eyes waiting for your inevitably fate, which it never came. He lifted his knife again and went for the rest of the survivors, Jill and you were left until it was only you.

“Shit…” you muttered to yourself. You were just meters away from Michael who was facing back at you and still had his knife up.

You heard a little noice of something opening near you, but Michel herd it too. This time walking towards you, ready to curse him you saw how he walked pass you a few meters away and turned to look at you again, this time putting his knife down. He look down at what it seemed to you like a little door on the street, and look back up at you. You didn’t understand. You catch up with him and looked him dead in his dark eyes.

“Fuck..you..and this place and your stupid movies!!” He gestured down to the little gate again.

“I don’t get it!! I don’t know what it means…freak.” You were really starting to hate him, or you were just scared. Claudette didn’t finish to tell you that this things happen frequently. Deaths happen frequently, but you just didn’t know it. Michael gestured one last time to the little door and then looked up at you.

“FUCK! I don’t want it! Screw you bastard!” You push him a little bit, you knew this time you went too far when he grabbed you by your throat and push you against the nearest parked car. You tried your best to hit him hard, unfortunately he didn’t even react.

“I-i can’t…can’t breath Mich-michael…” You felt your air leaving your lungs. He gave you his signature look and move his knife closer to you. Then you finally felt it. Cold, it sting like, you finally felt the pain. Then all over again, and again, and again. He stabbed you, more than once. He wasn’t stabbing vital points, he was going slow.

“Please…” You pleaded, in vain, cause he didn’t stop. Instead he got out all the knife and finally stabbed you deeper. Little pain sounds scaped your mouth, and for the first time on this place you cried. Then all turned black. Just like that you were gone.

Michael put your body down, surprisingly with gentle moves. He kept looking at your dead body noticing what was left of your tears. He wasn’t going to kill you. When he saw you for the first time moments ago something woke up in him, he didn’t know what it was. You intrigued him in a way nothing ever did before. He wasn’t bother by your questions, the first time he looked at you was because he didn’t know what to do, he analyzed your gestures your face, your eyes...the other times he stopped when you asked him a question was on purpose, he wanted to look at your precios eyes just to be sure he wasn’t making it all up. He didn’t want to kill you, but…why did you act like that? He wanted you to leave, damn he even offered you the hatch. The second those hurting words left your mouth he felt attacked. He was trying to be nice, to do something nice…why couldn’t you be nice to him too? He was hurt, you caught his attention, but you hurt him. Why? You even said you loved his movies, why were you being so rude to him? He let his knife fell to the street, looking down he brought one hand to his masked face and one single scream was heard on Haddonfield that night. He was the only one left there.

The feeling of your death still lingered on your body the first time you came back to the camp fire. Laurie, Jill and David were already there due to that they have been killed earlier before you. You couldn’t help but feel awful.

“He…killed…he killed us. Like we were nothing.” You sounded so disgusted.

“Yeah new girl…most of the time it is like this. We forgot to tell you that killers hook survivors to sacrifice them to the entity. Or sometimes they can kill us with their own hand…like Michael did.” Laurie explained. You were so relieved to know that even if you or anyone gets killed they came back.

“I tried to be nice…i-i really did. I even want sure if he was going to kill me, but then he got you Laurie…” You continued.

“I saw all of it. And it was rare! He never acted like that with new survivors.” Laurie exclaime surprised.

“What you mean?” You replied back.

“He wasn’t just stalking you…he seemed to be analyzing you as well…who knows for what or why?” Laurie confirmed.

“Well that didn’t go well did it? I think he hates me…”

“I think he saw something in you. He likes you…” Laurie’s word were spoken so low you didn’t hear her, tho the rest of the survivors did, and they shared the same theory. Because killers can be nice sometimes, you heard killers like Ghostface, or Deathslinger, or even Oni had a good side….but Michael? He was known to be nice just three or four times since he got in the realm. It was unusual his behavior. And they know it, specially Laurie who came with him and Danny the Ghostface who seemed to grow closer to Michael over the years.

On the other hand, in the distant across the camp fire were the killers. They were all in the same place, hanging and resting like survivors did. It existed a physical barrier that separated the camp fire form the killers. Both survivor and killer could get near this barrier but couldn’t cross it. Survivors could meet the killers on trials or if the decided to go to certain map or place. Once there they could interact. But some interactions were not allowed. It’s not like something bad would happen to the survivor or the killer, it was the fact that the entity didn’t want that in her realm. It was known that when a killer didn’t do well in the trial, the entity would punish them, maybe she would make them see something they fear or hurt them the most, something about their past maybe. This only happens when the entity consideres it necessary.

Danny, Kazan, Caleb and Herman were watching the trial. They were also surprised Michael tried to spare the new girl. Of course the also saw how you rejected the offer. Michael came back to the other side of the camp fire with the rest of the killers, head pointing down.

“Hey Mike, you’re okay?” Danny asked him, his vice distant due to the ghost face mask. Michael didn’t answer he just looked at him. It’s not that they didn’t hear him talking tho, this time he just chose to remain silent and walk away. Danny was going to follow him but Caleb stopped him.

“Leave him be, give him some space…” Danny looked at him, then his head turned to look at Michael walking away. His eyes looked down behind his mask. He then decided to walk away too.

“Rejection can hurt.” Kazan said. His English still had a fainted Japanese accent.

“Sure does.” Herman added.

Michael made sure there was nobody with him. Once he realized he was all alone, his hands reached the bottom of his mask and pulled it up, reveling his face. Long blond and a little dirty hair covered part of his face. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your eyes, the way you walked with him while asking questions, your hair, your face…then he remembered those harsh words leaving your mouth. He wanted to understand, he needed to understand so bad why, why did you do that? He was trying to be nice, he usually isn’t. He knows he’s mean, selfish, he has a dark twisted heart, if he even had one. He find himself surprised by the choice of letting you go, to leave through the hatch. He lives for the hunt, the cat and mouse play, the adrenaline he feels when he kills. He’s no good and he knows it very well. On the other hand he felt hurt at your words…he felt…something was wrong with him, it must be right? He never experienced anything let along feelings. So he got to the conclusion that he was just offended by some words. You had offended him, yet here he is, thinking non stop of you.

Back to the others, Caleb was taking with Kazan.

“I think…I think he either likes her or she became his obsession. I mean, she seems like a nice girl, we didn’t cross paths yet. He’s the first one she goes against.” Said Caleb.

“Dark, twisted, small and very broken, but he has it.” Kazan abruptly said. Caleb wasn’t following.

“Excuse me?

“Soul.” Kazan explained. “His soul is dark, twisted, small and very broken, but he has one.” He finished. Caleb rises an eyebrow at Kazans words as to say he is not understanding him.

“Souls, I can see. Souls, I can sense.” Kazan said.

“It’s that so? How’s mine then?” Caleb teased.

“Baka…” It wasn’t rare at all for the Oni to speak Japanese now and then, he just told Caleb he’s a moron.

“Oh come on Kazan! You know my Japanese it’s not fresh!” Caleb protested then saw Kazan walking away.

Days turned into weeks in the realm and you were getting better at trials and so far killer you face killer you got to like you, not as much as Michael apparently. The things with him didn’t change unfortunately. Whenever you two go against each other he tries to give you hatch even if he didn’t sacrifice anyone. All the words that left your mouth were hate words and curse words. You decided if he was going to hate you you will hate him back. Tho deep down you didn’t like that idea. Now and then you catch yourself waking pass the limit of the barrier, just in case you see him. At this point it was like a dynamic. You would face him in a trial, get at his nerves, sometimes he would try to give the hatch anyway but you always complain. And that ends in painful death. You felt like he kills you slower than the rest on purpose. He won’t admit that he also walks pass the limit of the barrier, but in his case he does see you, he sees everything thing you say or do. Of course he does this intentionally. He doesn’t know why he keeps torturing you like he does, or even why he keeps torturing himself watching you knowing nothing will ever happen. Maybe all he wants is to make you hurt, because that way he gets to hear you begging him and saying his name so low.

Michael…please. Stop it.

A soft beg said in a soft voice. All you ever mean by this is for him to stop killing you like he does. He gets you sacrificed sometimes, but you rather get sacrificed a million times than to feel the cold of his kitchen knife stabbing you deep in your guts in the most slow way possible.

By now, you have met all the survivors and went against every killer. But you were closer to Laurie, Nea, Jill, Leon, Yun Jin, Feng, Yui, Oni, Ghostface, the Deathslinger, the Spirit and Wesker. It’s not like you didn’t like the rest of killers and survivors, you just were closer with some. You would often speak with Wesker to hear about genetic stuff, and then you would tease him about some random word you thought it was funny. He would look at you and say something like:

“Hey don’t push me new girl, you will not want me to go Michael!” He laughed. His sense of humor was evident not shared with yours.

“That was not funny Albert.” You said, he looked down.

“I apologize.”

“Rude..” You smiled when you heard Kazan saying that when Albert left.

This far you couldn’t really complain about your staying here. You wish things with Michael were different tho. There was this time when you faced The Doctor, and you were carrying a flashlight, you were getting good at flashlight saves, everything was laugh and fun. You blind him several times, and save your teammates a couple of other time too.

“Hey stop it with the flashlight, new girl! I can call you new girl too right?” Herman asked, annoyed but with a yet friendly tone. In response you pointed the flashlight to his face and granted permission to call you bay your nickname.

“Come on!!! Stop it! I’m warning ya!” He yeld.

“Or what doc?” You really weren’t taking him seriously. Next thing you know is you’re hooked then unhooked, and hooked again. The second time one of your teammates unhooked you, Herman tunneled you and killed you with his own hands.

When you came back to the camp fire you were laughing like a maniac. You really had a good time, not fully caring if you got tunneled or not. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t like that. Not.a.single.bit.

What happened next? The next trial you went on, you and Feng were the only ones left, and guess what? Your were going against Michael, again. This time was different, he actually down you with normal hits and hooked you, it was your first hook when Feng tried to rescue you. It’s not necessary to say Michael grabbed her before she could unhook you. He grabbed poorFeng by the neck and then looked at you, then back at Feng, she knew what was coming. He killed her with his own hand many times before, she didn’t mind at this point. But you? Oh boy you did care…

“Michael…” You say terrified. He tilted his head, he didn’t say a single word but you knew he meant to say “what?” He lift her from the ground and started to get his knife out.

“No please…Michael,” You knew he saw that trial with Herman, you were having fun with the flashlight, then you got tunneled, but you didn’t care, why did he? You could tell it was some type of pay back on Herman, because Feng was his survivor. But..you weren’t his…

Of course Michael was getting his pay back, he just wasn’t going to admit it to you. Pay back exactly for what? For the tunneling? Or maybe was cause he saw you laughing and having fun with Herman instead of him. He thinks he deserves that from you too. Or maybe not, by the way he kept killing you he didn’t doubt why you hated him so much. He just didn’t know what to do. Deep down he must feel that he has to hurt you bad because you hurted him, you kind of rejected him, and one part of him resented you for that. But his other part knows that giving you the worst death of the trial was the only way to get you to talk nicely to him…the way you beg…maybe he wanted so bad to hear you beg cause he couldn’t let himself beg you for attention, for that thing he felt only wfor his mother and his little baby sister, a little bit of love.

Him? Begging? Michael Myers never begged. Victims beg him for mercy, beg him to spare them. He wouldn’t allowed to do that himself.

“Please!!! PLEASE!! LET HER GO!” He didn’t listen any of your words, and the tip of his knife threatened to go deeper into Feng’s belly. You didn’t know what else to do, what else could you say.

“I’m sorry Michael! I’m so sorry, it’s my fault!” The desperate plea for Michael to stop for a second. He knew you didn’t mean to apologize for how you been treating each other. You meant that Feng death was your fault. He turned to look at you. For a second you thought you got it, he would stop. Reality hitter you like a truck when you heard Feng’s desperate cries of pain.

“NOO! PLEASE! FENG!” You cried and sobbed hard. “I’m so sorry Feng.” You apologized to your already dead friend laying on the cold snow of Ormond.

“Why…” Tears falling from your eyes like waterfalls. “Why are you doing this to me? Why I’m not even allowed to have friends…I need them Michael…” you continued.

He remained silent.

“I fucking hate you…your making it impossible for me to be here!” You reclaim.

Imposible for her? He thought. You were the one who put his world and all he knew this entire time upside down. If your harsh words hurt him, this hurt him even more. All of a sudden he got closer to you, and closer….to the point you two were face to face. He hit you with his knife while you were hooked. It was already too late when he noticed that the sharp blade of his knife had cut deep on your throat.

Your face of sudden realization he sliced your throat and your were bleeding out was too much for him. He closes his eyes every time he kills you, but this was too much. This felt way more painful that his normal killing mode. Tears running down your face as you tried to cover your bloody throat in pain. Not being able to tolerate seeing you die like this in so, so much pain, Michael left. He left you there alone to die in the cold.

The trial ended and Michael came back before you, stepping into the other side of the camp fire with the rest of the killers, he was met with Danny, Kazan and Herman.

“Bro…was cutting her throat open really necessary there?” Danny asked him, not really judging him, cause after all you got sacrificed and that what counted. Michael leaned back against the nearest tree there. He looked at Danny, and for the first time since he met you he decided that talking wasn’t going to hurt him that bad.

“No it wasn’t. I don’t know why I did that.” He answered Danny’s question.

Herman decided to join the conversation too.

“Are you okay Michael?” Herman asked. Michael didn’t reply what he expected. He looked at Herman, and for one second he felt ashamed of what he did to Feng Ming, but specifically why he did it. And then something he never thought he would say.

“I’m sorry about Feng Ming.” Herman opened his eyes more…if that was even possible.

Michael gathered himself from the tree and walk away. Kazan made a gesture to Danny. Follow him, that’s what he was tending to say. Needless to say Danny got the hint almost immediately. Danny stood up and quickly tried to put up with Michael.

On the camp fire side, desperate cries and tears came down your face. It turns out that, since Michael cutted your throat while you were still on hooked, when you came back you found out by Laurie’s words that a thin but long scar adorned you neck. You couldn’t believe it. You loved using necklaces and stuff, but now? You wouldn’t be able to use one without the scar sticked to your neck like a bad tattoo.

“I can’t believe this…” You cried. You were so weak that Laurie was holding you by your left arm as Rebecca told you to go to the medical support room, which it was only another part of the camp fire, but with the few things Rebecca could gathered around to help, heal and examine other’s wounds.

“It’s ok girl…we got you.” Laurie reaffirmed. You wouldn’t stop crying. Rebecca was walking in front of you, and Laurie still by your side. You heard a distant “Michael wait!” You recognized that voice immediately.

Ghostface…Danny. You thought. You knew He was close with Michael so you figured out he must be with him.

If I see him I’ll kill him. You thought to yourself. Of course you knew the odds of actually killing a Killer were none, %0. But this time Michael has gone too far and now all you wanna do is tell him how bad he has hurt you. Was he even going to react at your words? Probably not. You turn to look at your left were the barrier was, and you were right. Ghostface was trying to keep up the pace walking Michael had. Laurie seemed to notice you notice Michael on the other side, and gesture to Rebecca to stay with you for a moment.

“Hey, Michael…HEY!” She spoke caughting his attention. Michael stopped and turned to look at Laurie as she got closer and closer to the barrier.

“What’s your deal with her?! You went too far this time! She came back crying and sobbing like an animal!” Michael didn’t react to her words, which only made you angrier. You stepped closer to the barrier as well next to Laurie, this time you were beyond hurt.

“Why…? Why you hate me su much?!” That’s all you could ask.

Michael looked at you but to he was showing no emotions, and you were really starting to suspect it was not due to his mask, you truly believed he hates you for something you couldn’t completely understand.

“You know what? Fuck it I’m done trying to talk to you and to ask-no, beg you to speak back to me and tell me what I did wrong…” tears running down your face.

Michael saw you crying, leaning against Laurie for help. The effort you did in your last trial with him was too much to handle for your little frame. Besides, the feeling of getting your throat cut open was awful. His eyes looked down behind his mask, he couldn’t stand seeing you like this. The sound of your cries and sobbing were tearing through his chest, straight to his heart, if he even had one. He didn’t put a name to what he was feeling and experience when you were with him or near him, all he knew was death, blood and pain. He couldn’t afford to feel anything else…right? With that in mind he turned around and walk away silently.

“Yeah, walk away…like you always do.” You said in a low tone. Throat still hurting for the previous abused it received. He pretend no to listen to what you say. He couldn’t help but feel how something inside started to break.

Michael wondered if the entity was going to do something about this eventually. Little did he know that in reality, the entity was amazed by you and how you treated Michael the first time you met him. Needless to say, that the entity knew how both of you felt for each other. And the only reason she was going to allow what she was going to do, was because she knew both, you and Michael, would react eventually and arrange the differences between you two.

The entity had a plan.

Michael kept stalking you from the dark the rest of the night, that’s how he found out you wanted a choker to cover up the nasty scar. He wasn’t alone tho, Danny was with him. “Ahh…I really would like a choker.” Those were your exact words.

“You heard that Mike?” Danny asked looking at him, smiling behind his mask. Michael nodded.

“I..want to apologize..for..everything I did to her.” Michael said, looking down, eyes to coward to look at you complaining about the scar, a scar he gave you.

“Hey! Now we’re talking!” Danny’s voice a little bit enthusiastic. “How you plan on doing that? I don’t think by just saying that she will even consider to forgive you man…”

“I’ve got an idea…” Michael looked at Danny, then proceeded to whisper in his covered ear what he was going to do.

“It sounds great Mike! You’ll will need lots of paper and fabric. Maybe your mask supplies might work that thing as well!” Danny said looking at your throat’s scar.

“I’m going to Haddonfield.” And with That Michael made his way to his own home town.

Michael spent all night on Haddonfield working on something to give you as for an apology. On the other hand, you didn’t do much, you didn’t had trials that day, until like 6 o’clock you spent your time talking with Kazan, and Danny.

“I don’t like my scar…”

“Scars are sings of fight, if you survive fights it means your strong, therefor scars shows strength.” Kazan spoke.

“I agree with this big red guy here.” Danny added.

“I guess your right guys.”

Somewhere meters away from you, on the killer side, Evan and Caleb were sharing a interesting conversation. You see, Evan since he’s been here long before most of the killers he can speak with the entity sometimes.

“So…your telling me the entity’s plan is basically hope for the best? There’s no way we can know how he will react to it. He has never been punished before!” Caleb said.

“We gotta trust her plan Caleb.” Evan said, his gaze looking up where the entity is supposed to be.

“I hope she don’t do wrong.”

“She never does, Caleb. She never does.”

Time passed and you keep talking with Kazan and Danny from your side of the camp. Danny telling you something about his camera you didn’t quite catch the meaning. It was so specific and technical you didn’t even try to understand it. Then you asked Kazan to tell you everything he knew about the Samurai. You’ve always loved Japanese culture, you wanted to go someday to japan too.

“I would have loved to travel to Japan…” Your voice flooded with sadness.

“It’s so beautiful…my country…I don’t doubt you would have love it.” Kazan replays.

You were so focused on your conversation with Kazan and Danny that you didn’t notice Michael joining them. When you saw him all the joy on your face instantly disappeared. It’s like you couldn’t had one minute alone, not even a day! Kazan and Danny didn’t understand your sudden change of mood.

“What the hell do you want now?” You said, eyes wouldn’t dare to leave that white mask of his.

Both Kazan and Danny looked at each other, raised their shoulders until they looked behind themselves.

“Guys, can we move somewhere else please? I don’t have time nor the energy to deal with this freak.” You said looking dead to Michael’s eyes. Danny examined Michael for a moment and noticed something in his right hand.

“New girl…” Danny looked at you.

“What??” You already sounded pissed.

“Please, just give him a moment…” He said. It was the first time you heard The Ghostface say “please”, so for the sake of it you listed.

Michael stepped closer to the barrier, Danny and Kazan gave him space so his now was positioned in the middle. He reached his right hand to the edge of the barrier beneath him and tossed something to your side. You looked at it confused.

“I don’t get it, the hell do you want?!” You yeld at him.

Michael looks down at the object then back up at you. He wanted you to grab it. You sigh ruin discomfort as you bent down to grab it. Still didn’t catching what it was. All you knew it was soft to the touch.

“And I’m still don’t getting it, maybe I’m just stupid or perhaps you should fucking talk to me already!!” You were getting angrier every minute.

“I think you should open it..” Kazan has an idea of what could it been, you said earlier that you hated your scar, so he though maybe it was a necklace. You looked at Danny for his opinion too. He just nodded.

“Agh!! The things I do for you guys…” You said, your voice still angry. Michael couldn’t help but to feel bad you wanted to spend time with them but not with him.

Your eyes filled with anger when you saw this thing was a choker, and you didn’t even know why. Deep down you wanted to forgive him, you just couldn’t seem to find a reason.

“Sorry.” A single word scaped Michael’s mouth. It was the first time he ever spoke to you. Yet you felt it wasn’t enough. This wasn’t a worthy apology.

“Sorry? SORRY?! That’s all you could came up with?

“New girl, I think you shou-“ You didn’t let Danny finish.

“Your pathetic! Your fucking pathetic you hear me? I can’t believe I told you I loved your movies. How I regret that, I regret being nice to you..” You were angry as ever.

The bad treat continued, once, twice..you couldn’t count how many bad, nasty and hurting things you said to him.

“Childish!”

“Coward!”

“Fuckin evil!!”

“I hope you die fucking bastard, I want you dead!”

You tossed back the choker to the other side in contempt, and when you finished something scaped your mouth. Something that even in the most agitated of situations you wouldn’t even think of saying.

“Your mom was a fucking whore, a filthy slut. I bet she didn’t even wanted to have you in the first place!! Why don’t you just leave me alone, damn it!” You yelled at him hitting the invisible barrier that separated you from him and your friend killers. You knew thanks to the movie his mom used to be a stripper. His heart skipped a bit when you said that. Now he knew for sure he had a heart.

If he was hurt before now he was torn to pieces. But what torn apart his heart the most was knowing that, despite what you had just said, what he felt for you didn’t change a damn bit. With no more further a do, he proceeded to walk away. Danny followed him as usual, trying to get him to stay.

“Come on Mike! Don’t leave.” He yelled. “You went way too far kid…Kazan, looked at the choker.” He continued, he notice something written inside the choker, you just hadn’t seen it. Kazan took the little fabric from the dirty ground, wipped of the dirt and read it. Danny far gone by now.

“Kazan…? What does it say?” You asked him.

“You made me human…” This words stabbed you right in your chest. You knew very well the pain of getting stabbed, but this? This can’t be compared.

You felt awful. Why did you said that? It’s not like you even meant it. You felt your eyes filling with tears again at what you just said to him. All alone you thought that hurting him back the way he’d hurt you would make you feel better. But it didn’t. It just made you feel worse. Like you had no soul.

“I…I really messed up here, didn’t i? Kazan?” You looked at his red Oni mask.

“I’m afraid you did…” He confessed.

“Oh my god…what did I do?” You tried to see if you could find Michael with your eyes from your side of the camp. What you didn’t know was that the moment Michael tossed you the choker he made the entity put to work her own plan. You could hear a distant voice, again it was Danny.

“Hey, Mike! Hey!! Michael!” Danny exclaimed, yet no answer from Michael. Danny’s exclamations for Michael became more and more audible. Something was wrong, you knew it, you could feel it. You ran in direction of Danny’s voice.

“Dude wake up! Michael!” Danny kept saying. You got there panting and sweating. Kazan followed a little bit after.

“What’s wrong with him?” You asked.

“I don’t know, he was like this when I catch up with him.”

You could see his body was struggling. His left hand holding his knife, knukles white as milk. His breathing could be heard from where you were. He was getting trouble to breathe. Soft pants and groans suddenly left his mouth too. He sounded like he was in pain, but physically he looked fine. No blood or sings of injuries. It take you a lot of effort to notice through his eyes of his mask that his real eyes were glued shut and a few tears running down.

“Oh my god…his eyes! Look at his eyes.” You told Danny.

“He’s crying!” Danny said surprised.

“Something’s wrong with him. Something’s wrong with him!” You exclaimed. His groans and pants became louder.

“Ahh agh…” Michael complained. Hearing him like this putted you on desperate mode. You tried hitting the barrier unsuccessfully, even kicked it several times.

“Please let in through!” You yelled at the sky, knowing the entity will hear you.

“Do something, guys. Help him! I can’t do anything from here!”

Danny tried to shake his body. No responce. Kazan snaked his body even harder. Again, no response. You noticed some pamphlets in the ground near his boots. You pointed this out to Danny and Kazan. It didn’t took you long to realize that those were her mother’s stripper pamphlets. So did Ghostface and Oni.

“He’s being punished…” Kazan said.

“What? Why?!” You cried. “It’s because of the choker?” You asked.

“Maybe, we don’t know.” Danny spoke.

“No! Please, it’s not his fault it’s mine! I’m the one who should be punished. Please!” You begged to the entity. At this point Michael had his head looking up. Grantings of pain still scaped his mouth.

“No Michael, Michael…listen to me!” You looked at his poor suffering form. “I was wrong. I was wrong! All of this wasn’t your fault. I overreacted, okay? And your mom? Your mom was a beautiful person. She did everything she could for you and both your sisters! I was wrong Michael. I’m so sorry…so so sorry! I didn’t mean anything of this to happen…” You sobbed while explaining yourself. Michael managed to look down at you.

Desperation taking over your body, you punched and kicked the barrier. Demanding the entity to let you in just this once.

“Please!! Please, i-I’ll do anything!” You begged her.

From the distant, Caleb and Evan could hear your screams. They know what was already happening, that’s why the decided that not interfering was the best option. Nothing could have prepared the people on this realm for what was about to happen. Your hands banging the barrier were suddenly met with grass and dirt. You fall, that was for sure. But you had fallen into the other side of the camp. To everyone’s surprise, there was no barrier separating both camps anymore.

“Did just the barrier…” Caleb asked Evan. “What did just the entity do?”

“Allowing what was not allowed.” Evan sounded happy. The entity’s plan was working.

You didn’t have time to enjoy your new freedom nor did you killer friends. As soon you got up you went straight to Michael. Holding him by his broad shoulders, you reassured him.

“I’m here Michael! I’m here. Please come back to me.” You begged him, this time was different. You noticed his hands still struggling and clenched. You grabbed the hand that was holding the knife to see if you could easy some of that tension. Worried eyes examining his mask to catch any sign that he was okay.

Suddenly his struggling stopped and his head went down. Your hands fly up to grab his masked face only to be met by his free hand around your neck, squeezing tightly.

“Dude what are you doing?!” Danny yelled.

“Michael, it-it’s me…” Your air leaving your lungs. His hand dangerously tight around your neck. Threatening to break it right there.

“Judith…” He growled. The entity no longer had him seeing the posters of his stripper mother, his school bullies or his stepfather. Now he was having living flashbacks of his older sister, Judith.

“N-no, Michael please, y-you know me…” It was getting hard for you to speak due to the lack of oxygen.

“Don’t speak.” His hand squeezing harder. “I hate you.” The flashbacks of his selfish sister were really getting to him. It all was so real to him that without noticing he was getting his knife near your belly again.

“Dude-dude, if you killer her she’s not coming back, she’s it coming back Michael!” Danny said trying his best to help you. Michael looked at him for one second or two, then he continued to reach for your belly. In a desperate measure, Danny took off his ghostface mask and grabbed Michael’s hand that was holding his signature kitchen knife.

“Mike, who am i?” Danny asked. Another desperate attempt to make him come back to himself.

“L-loomis.” Michael growled at him.

“No, Michael you know me, come on! Who am i? He asked again.

“D-danny..Danny.” Michael said. You could see the tears in his eyes. He was fighting this.

“Good! Good, now, who is she? You got this you know her.” Danny cheered him up. Michael looked at you, eyebrows frowned.

“J-j…Judidth.”

“No..” You left out a sight. You cried even harder when you noticed Michael raising the knife up.

“Dude stop!!” Danny yelled again, this time ready to do something about it but Kazan had to hold him down.

“Let me go Kazan!”

“You’re only going to make it worst.” He stated, holding Danny down.

“Michael..” You sobbed. You prepared yourself when he got ready to stab you. One final stab, and you were going to see dark…fall to eternal sleep. One last thing scaped your mouth before closing your eyes.

“I love you, Michael Myers…” it was low, you hadn’t much air left. But you didn’t want to leave this world without letting him know this. You glue shut your eyes one last time to embrace his final stab. You even heard Danny screaming “Stop!! Stop it!!!” You were ready now, waiting patiently for your inevitable fate. You flinched your eyes anticipating the blade, but the blade cutted through nothing. You opened your eyes. Somehow you succeeded to get Micheal back. The entity’s plan had worked without you even noticing. He let you fell to the ground so as he did with his knife. Danny and Kazan ran to help you get up. You tried to reach for Michael’s arms but he rejected your touch.

“No…i-i” That was all he could say.

“It’s not your fault Michael.” You assure him. But he just took off leaving the three of you there. He wasn’t the only one afraid to keep touching you it appear. Danny hand left your arm and Kazan took a step back. You gave them a “I’m not following you guys” look.

“It’s just that…this barrier thing, never happened before. We never touched you before, none other than to kill you ir sacrifice you…” Danny spoke for both of them, Kazan and himself.

You reached your hand to Danny’s uncovered face, and cupped it in your warmth. He embrace it immediately. Closing his eyes and smiling.

“You look better with the mask off.” You laughed, he did the same.

“If you say so…”

“Kazan…come here!” You told him with opened arms. He seemed hesitant at first.

“Come…” You insisted, smiling.

“Hug?” He asked.

“Yes!” You exclaimed. The tenderness in his hug cought you by surprise for such a big and buffed man like him.

You stayed like that for a few minutes until Michael was the topic of conversation again. You asked Danny where he might have gone.

“I think I know where..” He said.

The single Street and the kind of trees in the block gave the map away very fast. You were again on Haddonfield.

“I know he sometimes comes here to make mask or whenever he feels bad or angry…I don’t know which house it’s his house tho.” Danny explained.

“Oh don’t worry I know which one is it.” You looked at his still uncovered face.

“Okay, good luck New Girl…if he doesn’t speak right away you should come back later.” He said ready to leave when you said one last thing to him.

“You know Danny…your not that bad after all.” It was the first time he heard you call him by his real name, it always had been “hey ghost!” Or “Ghostie!” It felt good hearing that coming from someone he considered a friend.

“You know y/n…Michael wasn’t wrong after all.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You did made us human after all.” You smiled at his statement then he walks back to the camp.

Once you reach Michael’s house you stepped in. Thinking to yourself he must be upstairs you went up. There was only one room with its door opened. Michael must be in there. You were reaching the end of the stairs, walking as slowly as possible to not give your self away. The house wasn’t helping much tho, with each step you made the wood underneath you cracked. He wasn’t unnoticed to the sound he thought perhaps was the wind since he had the windows open. Your small frame compared to his made a silhouette on his door frame.

Once inside his room you could see he had fully decorated its walls with handmade masks he had done himself. Just like in the movie, but that was on the prison cell instead of his real room. You saw him sat in a chair near a wooden desk. His mask still on, his head was down. His chest moving up and down.

"Michael…" You soft voice soothed his ears. He looked at his left, letting you know he knew you were there. "I'm not here to fight you. Not anymore." You said. Michael didn't react. His breathing sounded soft. Him not having any type of reaction made you move closer to him, until you were besides him. Your left hand resting on his right shoulder. Your eyes wondering the masks hanged on the wall in front of you.

"They are beautiful. You know that?" You told him giving his right shoulder little masages. He looked up to contemplate them. You didn't know how you went from looking masks to have him face to face again and your back pressed yo the wall. By now you were expecting nothing less than a kiss. He grabbed you by both your shoulders and lowered his head until it was pressed against your left collarbone.

This is not a kiss. You thought.

Soft sobs could be heard behind his mask, they were muffled by the same, but you were able to hear them. Then suddenly, he spoke again.

“I’m so…so sorry.” Your heart melted at his words and you couldn’t resist but to hold him tight against your little chest compared to his. More muffled sobs coming from Him.

“It’s okay…I’m the one that should be apologizing.” You replied back.

“You already did.” He lift his head to look at you.

You felt the urge to know how he looked behind that mask. What was he hiding. You didn’t have to take out his mask to know he was beautiful. Took your hand move to the edge of it. Michael moved his head back, hesistant.

“Let me see you Mike.” Hearing you calling him Mike was all he needed.

Pulling the mask up with little effort was necessary to take it off. And just as you spectated, he has long blond curly hair, blueish eyes a big, but yet straight nose, and plump heart shaped lips. A beautiful face, just as you thought. You cupped his face with your hands just as you did with Danny.

“You’re beautiful Michael.” Your voice like a sweet whisper. He touched your lips with his thumb, caressing them like it was a newly found treasure. His treasure.

The feeling of his chapped lips on yours was inevitable. Tho he seemed to be the first to started it, as soon as he started he wanted to finish, scared you wouldn’t like it. But you insisted to kiss him longer. You wanted more. It didn’t matter that his lips were chapped. Eventually you two separated to get some air.

“You’re beautiful.” You reassured him again. He put his forehead against yours.

“And you’re the most beautiful human I ever seen.” He replied, voice deep and low. “Y/n?” He added.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.” He finally said it. Finally admitted it and gave it a name.

A little time went by and now you were sitting on his lap seeing how he made masks. Your left arm wrapped around his shoulders for support.

“So, I put more glue over here and…we are done.” He was showing you how he made his masks.

“This seems interesting to make.” You replied.

“Are you sure you never done this before?” His mouth forming a little smile. Not fully believing you never done a paper mask before.

“Oh well…you caught me. I did. But a like to see you make them.” You said honestly.

“How cute.” Your heart flinched at his words and your cheeks flushed. “I like it when you flush”

“Stop it Michael!” You gave him a little tug on his coverall.

“Never.” He said looking into your eyes and give your nose a quick kiss.

You spent the rest of the night like this, laughing your lungs out and doing disasters with his glue.

That night loud voices were heard at Haddonfield. The difference this time was that Michael wasn’t alone, he had the best company he could’ve asked for.

I hope you enjoyed this! Sorry if there’s misspellings, English it’s not my mother language, have mercy please 🥹 I’m open to requests!!

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