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also i do take any sort of requests. send me any idea, it doesn't even have to be organized, and i will write it to the best of my abilities!
passionfruit
mike wheeler x reader
description: heartbroken by the reader rejecting his advances out of fear, mike finds someone else; yet, he doesn't realize he looks for you in her until it was almost too late.
mentions: collegeroommate!mike, angst, feelings of abandonment, she/her pronouns, happy ending, sfw!
--
"this is jessica, my girlfriend," mike admitted as you gazed at the alluring girl he brought into the apartment.
in moments, you felt like the library of alexandria has fallen once again. all the enriching history and knowledge you once knew, in addition to him knowing as well, was burnt to a crisp like a match to dry grass. you wondered if things could've been different; if you had finally grown the courage in the garden of your soul to tell him how you truly felt. yet, it was too late to dwell.
you couldn't blame him for getting a girlfriend, especially one as pretty as she is. technically, he wasn't yours to begin with; he was merely your roommate living in the room parallel to you. however, for a while, it felt like he was. the chemistry between the two of you morphed into a familiar tension of pairs; grapes are connected by their stems in the way that leaves are connected by the branches, the same way that you two were connected by the many traits you had in common.
there was always exchanged glances. the contact between your eyes and his created a candle flame that the wrinkles and creases from his smile would fan. you two acknowledged it, leading to social settings being disrupted by being stuck in a cycle of addiction: an addiction to the understanding you two had for each other with merely a look. some call it the look of love, but you and mike never even had the chance to speak about it.
eventually, the shared eye contact turned into physical contact. whether it was interlocking your arms or hands or legs together while cuddling on the couch, or simply sitting on the floor to him and resting your head on his thigh as he played dungeons and dragons with the party when they’d visit, days went by with a different method of touch brightening both of your days.
one time, specifically, you began to cry because of the stress that consumed any amount of happiness you were able to feel. assuming that mike would just hang out with you, possibly giving you a long and needed hug, you decided to go to his room. opening the door to you on the verge of breaking down in front of him, he not only gave you a hug, but also pecked your forehead and cheeks with kisses while whispering reassurance and affirmations into your ear. things were different from that day; you were no longer just friends.
however, with the difference in relationship, anyone would think that you two would simply talk about what you were. you guys have done practically everything together besides see each other naked or kissed on the lips; why wouldn't you begin to watch a relationship flourish when you know there was nothing that could go wrong? you knew he felt the same way that he did. why wouldn't you take the leap and see where it takes you?
you were both scared, to say the least. that's why.
so, you began to distance as if mike had the black plague and you were trying to live until you were old and wrinkly. he noticed the uncomfortable amounts of quietude in the apartment and how, suddenly, you began to go out more to parties and hangouts. mike knows you; you were never a partying type of girl. he knew there was something up from the sheer amount of you mentioning a venue or houseparty you were at while you two shared pizza for dinner, despite being one of the biggest homebodies he knew. did he mention it to you? no. in fact, he amplified the distance since he thought you simply didn't like him the way he liked you. he took your distance as rejection, similar to an empty score on a test or no reply after a job interview.
you distanced yourselves from each other, causing the home to become a house with two bodies far away from each other inside of it. yet, mike still decided to introduce you to jessica, since she would be around more often, causing the awkward situation in front of you to unfold.
"it's nice to meet you," you mentioned as you shook her hand, almost as if this was a business deal instead of an introduction.
she snarked, "yeah, totally. mike, you didn't tell me your roommate was a girl?"
mike stared at her, "i did. it was one of the first things i told you when i asked if you wanted to come over… actually."
"mmm, i don't remember," she turned to look at you, "will that be a problem?"
confused, you turned your gaze from mike to her, "i'm not following. what are you talking about?"
"you're his roommate. you're a girl. i'm his girlfriend. is that an issue?" she cocked her eyebrow, leaning closer with her bubblegum breath prominently in your nose.
"no, ma'am, it won't," you reprimanded and gave mike a stare of annoyance, "i'm gonna go out. i'll see you later."
--
jessica made herself at home in the least plausible way possible. though mike worked hard to keep the kitchen clean each time he decided to cook a meal for the whole house, jessica would make a meal for herself and leave the dirty and stained dishes inside of the sink. mike would clean the single bathroom sink, since you two shared and he would feel bad if he didn't since he shaves; jessica would leave her makeup on the counters in addition to watermarks on the tiling. mike's cat loved most people and had no issue with them being around, yet, they would hiss and run away from jessica as if she was the wicked witch. the balance of the household was completely diminished ever since she began to come over more often.
so, you decided that you were going to move out. there was no longer space for you in this house anymore; not with her being mike's girlfriend.
knocking on mike's door, you prayed that his girlfriend wouldn't be in his room. there were too many times where she had accused you of attempting to take him. mike would defend you, which you were insanely grateful for since she was driving you up and down the walls, leaving her accusing him of wanting you, as well. the door swung open, revealing mike in a gray hoodie and black sweatpants. the loose curls of his hair framed his face almost perfectly. his hair, unstyled and tussled after a nap, was always one of your favorite looks of him. he knew that.
"hey, can i come in?"
--
the clock read 12:03 am. you two sat on his bed after a brief catching up. in those mere moments, you felt like things were normal again. there was no arguing and no awkward distance from each other. in fact, even the silence of the room was comfortable. yet, you knew it couldn't go on for too long.
"so, why'd you decide to come in here?" he asked, genuinely curious.
you cleared your throat, "i just wanted to talk to you about something kinda serious."
"i'm all ears. talk to me.”
"mike, i think it's time for me to move out."
his eyes widened in surprise mixed with a glint of worry, "what?"
"i dunno. i just think that, maybe, you've kinda outgrown me in a way?"
"what are you talking about?"
you hesitated, silence filling the space between you.
"stop it," he softly demanded.
"stop what?"
"just say what you want to say. you're thinking about it too much. say it as it is."
you sighed, "if you're happy with jessica, i think i should leave. sometimes, it hurts just to look at you guys. i know it's bad that i'm talking to you about this as you're literally with her, but i guess i haven't gotten over how close we used to be and how it could've turned into something. i think this is for the best. i'll figure out the paperwork tomorrow. i'm sorry, mike."
leaving his room in a rush, you began to tear up as you entered your room, went underneath your fuzzy covers, and attempted to sleep.
--
the next day flew by; you went to the front office to collect the paperwork for the resignation of your lease. attempting to fill it out was rough, since strands of doubt kept on pulling you back from fully signing each signature and information on the paper. at around 8:00 at night, you heard a knock on your door as you began to fill out the last form of resignation. your hand twisted the doorknob, slowly revealing mike at the opposite end; he looked like he hadn't slept in a day, as dark circles caressed the bottoms of his eyes.
"hi, um, can i come in?"
you stared at the floor, "yeah, sure."
he sat down on your bed, your mattress making a squeaking noise at the weight of his body being fully transferred onto it. you sat onto the chair of your desk, parallel to him on the bed, and swiveled it around so you would be able to see him.
you questioned out of worry, "are you okay? did you sleep at all last nigh-"
"stay."
"what?"
"stay, please. don't move out, don't go."
you sighed, "mike, i'm filling out the papers right now. i'm not needed here anymore."
"but you are needed here! i need you here."
"you have a girlfriend, you have to need her inst-"
"i broke up with her."
uncertainty of the conversation began to make your brain go blank, "what?"
"you can call me a fucked up person. you can call me anything, actually, and i probably am everything you’d say, but you can't say that i don't need you here. i never looked at her the way that i look at you. i think this whole time i've just been looking for everything that you are whenever i looked into her eyes. you can call me fucked up, but i just can't help it. she isn't you. it's like somehow you've tied a rope to me and i can't seem to get out of it, but i also don't want to get out of it? i realized that last night when you told me you wanted to move out."
"mike-"
"i didn't sleep at all because i was scared."
"why?"
"i didn't want to look to the room in front of mine and have it be empty when it could've been turned into an office or something."
you furrowed your eyebrows, "mike, it could still be turned into an office or something. in fact, me moving out would give you more room to-"
he placed his hands on your shoulders, "that's not the point. the point is that i'd want to turn it into an office when you move into my room. the only reason i'd ever want that room to be empty is if it was because you decided that you wanted to share space with me and sleep with me in mine."
"what are you saying?"
his hand made its way to your cheek, "you said that you couldn't get over how we could've been something. we can be something. just stay.”
his eyes glistened with hope and nervousness intertwined and holding hands in his irises. hesitance filled the air in between the two; the combination of the intense eye contact, as well as the physical touch of his hand cupping your cheek as if it belonged there, created a sense of uncertainty. you both were uncertain where you would end up, how you would end up, what this interaction would lead to. it was only when mike's lips softly landed on yours that you realized that, suddenly, everything fell into place. it was short, sweet, and supple, only lasting about a mere 2 seconds; yet, pulling away was similar to pulling two magnets apart without a handle to hold. the feeling of his lips on yours lingered even after you pulled away.
"y'know, you're a horrible person for trying to find me in another woman," you told him softly.
"call me a horrible person all you want. i'm sorry," he kissed you again, "forgive me?"
"hmm.. i don't know if i can. actually, if you do me this favor, i will.
"a favor as in?"
you handed him the documents you signed, "either burn it or shred it. i don't care."
confined
mike wheeler x reader
description: being max's best friend, you were ecstatic to be her maid-of-honor, only to realize that the best man was your ex. wounds reopen when you realize you're stuck with him in more ways than one.
mentions: nsfw/smut (no p in v, but moreso oral fixations..?), angst, both of you are lowk assholes, forced proximity/claustrophobia, hurt/comfort, happy ending, she/her pronouns, reader wears glasses, ex! mike x ex! reader, set in the 90s, everyone is in their mid-20s
--
"he's right next door," max took the ice bucket from the counter in front of you two, her ginger, wavy hair swinging, "i’ll go get the ice."
max was treating you like you were fine china during an earthquake: shattered, fragile, and delicate to the touch.
you and her have been best friend since past lives, finding each other in every single life you've lived. you were friends with her before she had even met the party, meeting her when she was still in san diego, only meeting her new friends and her fiance when you got back into contact with her and decided to see what it’s like in indiana. she understood you as well as you understood her, leading to a bond that was irreplaceable and youthful. so, when she asked you to be her maid-of-honor the day after lucas proposed to her, you obviously checked the "yes" box of the notecard she gave you. you liked lucas for her; you took solace in the fact that he genuinely cared about her in a way that radiates in the kindness he treats her with.
during this time, you and mike also had a bond almost as strong as you and max’s. hanging out with max led to lucas joining the hangouts when you came to visit them or they came to visit you, which led to mike joining after lucas realized it was pretty shitty that you’d be there, third wheeling, on him and max’s dates.
throughout the hangouts, you and mike's relationship slowly emerged from the love that festered around you two. it was almost as if max and lucas's emotions somehow spread into the emotions located between you and mike, leading to you admitting your emotions a couple of days after valentines day.
though max and lucas got their fairytale-esque, happy "ending" in the form of a wedding, you and mike's fate was much more melancholy; compared to the love story you both witnessed, you and mike's story turned into shakespearean tragedy.
you and mike's relationship ended after 11 months; specifically, one month before things would have gotten to the "serious" stage. he broke up with you because he wasn't ready for things to get serious yet, as if it wasn't already. he acted as if you didn't pour the inners of your heart out to him whenever you'd whisper sweet everythings into his ear. he acted as if he didn't watch you as you slept with a look of pure bliss and engagement apparent in his eyes. you, on the other hand, acted as if it wasn't a big deal; you were never one for showing people how you feel and your own love confession only truly happened because you were drunk. the people who understood you already knew that. needless to say, you and mike's current status was one that was ignored by the both of you. the existence of your emotions towards each other resided somewhere in the lower valleys of your heart and souls, holding on by a mere thread.
three years ago, you would've been overjoyed with the fact that you'd be walking down the aisle with him as the last couple before max walked down with lucas’ mother. however, with how unexpected the breakup was, nobody could have prepared the emotions that you would go through the week in the wedding.
the conversation you and max were having was currently in your shared hotel room which, ironically, had a single door and wall separating you from mike and lucas. before it started storming out, max had gotten a bottle of champagne she wanted to share with you before the wedding in three days. wanting to chill the bottle in ice first, you were conversing about who was going to go and get it from the machine.
you took the bucket from her arm, "no, it's okay. didn't lucas say he needed to talk to you about your floral arrangements?"
"still, like, i wouldn't want you to just go out and possibly run into him before you're ready. we still have three whole days to prepare for that."
you sighed, "i don't care if i run into him, somehow. it's whatever at this point."
max's eyebrows furrowed slightly with worry, "are you sure you're okay with walking down the aisle with him? i get if you're uncomfortable–i can change the order, or, something… shit, i’ll even uninvite him if you really need me to–"
"max," you took your hands and firmly reassured her by placing them on her shoulders, "it's okay. i'll be okay. go talk to lucas, i'll be back."
"okay, be safe. call me if you need anything."
--
going to the ice machine on the 9th floor, you turned the corner and walked towards the buzzing noise. the lighting of the hallways were fluorescent, with a hint of warmth in each lamp beside each door. the windows showed raindrops racing down the crevices of transparency; you could hear thunder very faintly in the background of the buzzing. reaching the ice machine, you read a sign on it written in thick, black sharpie.
broken! do not use! working ice machine on the first floor!
you looked at the map and, sighing, you walked back to the elevator and pressed the down arrow, waiting patiently for it to get to you. after hearing the ding of the elevator and watching the stainless steel doors open, you entered as your finger made it to the buttons on the side. pressing the first floor button, you stood in silence.
a part of you had been thinking about seeing mike this whole trip. though the other part of you hated him for how he ended things with you over some excuse, you also didn't want your best friend's wedding to be tense and full of resentment. then again, your plan was to simply walk with him and then separate for the rest of the trip and, eventually, the rest of your life. the part of you that thought about seeing mike was also the part of you that missed how dorky, lame, and lanky he was; that was also the part of you that missed how he tasted and felt, skin to skin.
your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the ding of the door, revealing an ice machine conveniently right in front of you. taking the bucket, you placed it beneath the spout and pressed the button to fill it. suddenly, a clap of thunder caused you to jolt; you hated loud noises. you were beginning to regret leaving the hotel room.
quickly closing the bucket, you mimicked the opposite of your earlier actions: you pressed the up arrow, got in, and pressed the 9th button. you were planning on waiting patiently, once again, for the elevator ride to go smoothly. there was no one else in the elevator with you, meaning that you were free from awkward conversations with middle aged men. however, the door slid open once again and revealed the face you weren't planning on seeing tonight.
you noticed that mike somehow seemed taller; though, he was always more limb than anything else. his curls flopped on his head, slightly hiding the glimmer he always had in his dark eyes. one thing you noticed about him ever since you started dating was that he looked insanely good in simple, comfortable clothing; currently, he was in his a black shirt that was slightly smaller on him and blue, plaid pajama pants that hung slightly below the band of his boxers. if he stretched, you would definitely be able to see the slight imprint of abs on his stomach; you hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t. raindrops glistened off of his skin, providing a glow that was so lethal that it could blind you. this was your ex. you were currently admiring your ex and you hated it.
realizing it was you standing in the elevator, his eyes slightly widened at the thought of you. mike always enjoyed how you looked before going to bed. he liked the way your hair was let down and cascading down your back. he enjoyed how you looked with your glasses on and how smart they made you look. he admired how you slept in big t-shirts and shorts. the feelings were mutual. he was aware that it was bad he was thinking of you in this manner, however, he didn't care.
you moved aside, making room for him in the slightly cramped elevator. he walked and stood next to you, avoiding eye contact and still exchanging glances at you beside him. his hand moved towards the elevator floor buttons, soon realizing that the floor was already pressed. the elevator was quiet and you both sensed awkward tension emerging from between you two.
until, you both felt the elevator stop moving.
"uh- shouldn't we have been on our floor by now?" he questioned, breaking the awkward silence with the clearing of his throat.
you nodded, "yeah, um, it's been, like, two minutes."
"are we stuck?"
the lights went out as thunder crashed outside, causing you to jump once more. mike took out his phone and shined the flashlight onto you, revealing the slightly petrified expression held in your furrowed eyebrows and parted mouth.
he softly spoke, "hey, it's okay. i'm sure it'll come on soon."
you took out your phone and attempted to call max, ultimately failing when you realized there was no signal inside of the elevator.
"i'm not getting any signal, are you?"
he checked, "no, i'm not."
--
after the man on the elevator's loudspeaker told you that you had to wait for the storm to clear in order to be rescued, you could almost feel your heart drop down to your stomach. you were currently stuck in an elevator with the man that broke your heart and left you emotionally bruised for months.
you both sat on the floor on opposite sides. since there was no signal, there wasn't much to do other than sit there and stare at seemingly everything except each other; that was, until mike broke the silence.
"so.."
you made eye contact with him, a familiar feeling of nostalgic warmth entering your system. this wasn't to say that you completely forgot about what he did. that feeling lasted a second or two, before it was replaced with the reminders of anguish.
he continued, "how've you been?"
"fine," a tang of bitterness exited your mouth, "you?"
"i've, uh, i’ve been okay."
"cool."
"are you mad at me, still?" mike asked.
a look of disbelief plastered itself on your facial canvas, "are you serious?"
"look, it's not like i wanna be in this elevator with my ex either, but i am," he firmly reassured, brows furrowing in worry, "neither of us know when we're going to leave and neither of us can use our phones. i might as well make small talk-"
"that isn't small talk."
"then what is it?"
"it's talking about how i've been since we ended things," you sighed, "that isn't small talk. it's more than that."
a pause entered the conversation.
"okay, it isn't," his voice got softer, "i still want to know."
"fine,” you sighed, “i still ask myself what went wrong."
"you didn't do anything wrong-"
"well, i wasn't doing things right enough for you to stay."
silence entered the room, once again. you realized you were being snappy, but you couldn't help it. he was the reason max saw you as fragile and delicate. max is, and has always been, a loud, blunt person; now, she rarely yells at you. it sounds odd to admit, but you missed having her scream at you over something stupid you did. you hated him for it. you hated him for making you seem like something you never were.
you continued, "maybe we should just stop talking. i think it's making everything even worse-"
he cut you off, "i still think about you."
"what?"
"like, i don't know, every night."
"that's such bullshit. you’re probably drunk right now, mike. just shut up and stop talking–"
he scoffed and interrupted, "just because i was the one that ended things doesn't mean it didn't hurt for me either."
"that's also bullshit. you chose to break up with me," you reminded, enunciating the "you", "that was your decision."
"well, you agreed, didn't you?"
your face felt hot. "did i have a choice?"
"well–"
"no, i didn't."
mike ran his hands in his hair, allowing the strands to fall every which way, "jesus fucking christ, you aren't even letting me explain."
you took a deep breath, "fine. go."
"you wanna know the real reason i broke up with you?"
"fucking obviously."
"well, smartass,” he began to avoid eye contact, “i was scared, okay?"
"scared of fucking what? you think i wasn't scared-"
"if you haven't realized," mike got closer to you, "a relationship isn't just about you."
"y'know what, fuck you, mike."
he cocked his eyebrow, "what'd you just say?"
"i said fuck you. you're over here acting like you're hurt over it- acting like you weren't the one who left me when i needed you the most, giving me the most bullshit excuse. 'im not ready for things to be serious' i knew it was bullshit as soon as those words came out of your mouth," a glare overcame the admiration that was once found in your eyes, "in reality, you left me. that's all there is to it. i needed you and you fucking vanished. it's like you didn't even try-"
"don't even fucking say that," he grabbed your cheek with his hand, "you don’t even know what you’re talking about."
"what are you–"
"you think i don't regret leaving you? i do– i regret it every single fucking night when i'm laying in bed, so fucking lonely. it's like i see you everywhere, in everyone, and it just reminds me of how much i fucked up by letting you go. i miss you so fucking much– you don't even understand. shit, i haven't even been able to finish ever since i left you."
a certain lust replaced the tension in the room, "what?"
"i can't even make myself finish anymore. it's been three years and i haven't gotten laid- i haven't even tried to. i knew they wouldn't be as good as you."
"mike-"
"my question is," his face became inches apart from your face, lips being parted right in front of yours, "have you?"
you stayed in this position for another thirty seconds; you and mike were currently on the floor, noses practically touching from how close you two were. the tension in the room was both full of anger and sex; a concoction that shouldn't have been mixed in the first place, a cocktail that was dangerous to be drunk.
"no," you swallowed, "no, i haven't."
"why is that, baby?"
your breathing became slightly heavier as nervousness was felt in the pit of your stomach, "mike, i can't-"
"use your words," his thumb teased your cheek in a circular motion, "why haven't you gotten with anyone since me?"
"no one could make me feel the way that you do," a tinge of dominance allowed itself to escape from you, "now, answer my question, mike."
"what's your question?"
"if i decided to kiss you tonight, would you just leave again?"
"fuck no-"
you latched onto him as if he was the only thing holding you together. immediately, your tongues explored each other's mouths. you both missed this feeling; you both missed this taste. mike tasted like the mint gum he'd always get whenever you guys would go to gas stations together; you could dive deep into how good he tasted. his hands roamed around your body, exploring a familiar lagoon that he missed swimming in.
though you enjoyed making out with him, he wanted more. unlatching from your mouth, you chased after his lips once again.
"relax, baby. i'm right here– i'm not going anywhere."
pinning you against the wall with his hands, his lips made its way to your neck. sucking and leaving bruised marks on the crevice between your shoulders and ear, you let out a small moan; it was the sweetest tune that mike hasn't heard in forever. he sucked harder, earning a louder and more whiny noise coming out of your mouth.
you gripped his hair in your hands tightly, "fuck, mike- i missed you so much."
leaving a kiss on your neck, he moved onto your collarbone, kissing and sucking softly. mike was marking you as if he needed people to know you were his, which he, in fact, did. low moans exited his mouth the more he sucked the soft and supple skin that was exposed. the more he marked, the harder you breathed and begged for more.
he remembered the soft spot that you had from three years ago: a specific area on your neck closer to your ear. taking that area he kissed it with a softness you haven't felt in years, then continued to suck a dark purple bruise with a roughness you craved in his absense. hearing the moan you let out, you felt mike grin against your skin.
afterwards, he decided to bite the area, causing a soft scream exit the back of your throat. gripping onto his hair harder, he led out a low groan. you both had no plans on stopping, until the power went back on.
mike stared at all the marks he made on you, as if he was picasso and you were his canvas. both of your eyes no longer held resentment: instead, adoration and love appeared in the glint of your irises. you noticed that mike's hair was a mess, as well as yours, as you both attempted to catch your breaths.
"what do we tell max?"
you were confused, "what?"
"uh, i kinda-"
you noticed your reflection in the stainless steel walls; you looked like you were attacked by a leaf blower in the reverse setting.
your eyes enlarged, "holy shit-"
"i'm sorry, did i go too far?"
you kissed him lightly on the lips, “i can’t lie, i wanted you to go that far."
"i'm sorry for hurting you. i was already planning on apologizing during this trip," he held your hand, "but, now, i wanna ask you something else."
"which is?"
“take me back. please– i’ll do anything."
"you gotta convince me that it'll be worth it."
he kissed your forehead, “swear i will."
fun fact i actually used to be a hamzahthefantastic fanfic writer. might spam mike versions of my old fanfics since the mike wheeler x reader tag is a little dry rn... stay tuned ill save u guys
compass
[mike wheeler x reader]
[synopsis] as hawkins is terrorized by evil forces, mike wheeler grows distant as your relationship becomes rocky, ultimately leading to your breakup. after getting injured by a demogorgan, he shows up at your doorstep, knowing you're the only one who's able to fix him both physically and mentally.
[mentions] ex! mike wheeler x medicalstudent! reader, aged up and set in 1990 (reader and mike are 20), angst, violence/blood, hurt/comfort, argument, victims to the narrative
[author's note] sorry guys i come and go when i please
====
mike wheeler was at your doorstep for the first time in months.
for the first time, your eyes didn't light up at the sight of the brown mop on his head, nor the slight tint of red on his cheeks whenever it was cold out or even the widened expression that was constantly in his eyes. instead, you felt your heart drop down to your stomach like it was an elevator descending to ground floor.
it had been around 3 months since you were forced to end your relationship with him; not because of strict parents, nor because of your friend's disapproval, nor was it because of your increasing focus on your studies trying to get into medical school. in fact, it wasn't even because you stopped loving him; it felt as if that was impossible.
he was once the boy you shared cds with in his tan, beat up sedan; he'd whisper sweet-nothings into your ears late at night, the dashboard of his car illuminated by warm-toned streetlights and the lit up "open" sign of family video. once upon a time, you were curled into his chest with slow breaths of his scent; musky, dark, and reminiscent of the comforting smell of the basement you would hang out in. he was once the boy that, you thought, understood every aspect of who you are; he was once the boy that, you thought, loved every aspect of who you are.
until he started getting distant; the car rides were silent and short, strictly to your house, or his, and back. you were never really close to him anymore, as his body would tense at any touch you'd give him. his scent no longer smelt comforting accompanied by complete silence, but instead a reminder that the person you were dating was simply a wall: a wall made of bricks that were impossible to break into without brute force. you tried, and tried, and tried to get him to speak, which resulted in either arguments or even more silence.
so, one day, you decided to pick him up in your car. originally, he thought it was simply a change of pace; you actually just didn't want him to have to drive home after you broke up with him, because the thought of forcing him to drive home after losing someone who has been so, incredibly good to him seemed cruel.
however, after you ended things with him after about four years of being together, he breathed a sigh of relief. he breathed a sigh of contentment; it was possible that he simply wanted you to break up with him. you felt your heart shatter, dropped him right off at home, and were barely able to make it home through the glassy eyes he caused.
four years of romantic love down the drain, and even more years of friendship gone; and yet, you weren't even mad at his seemingly "okay" poise after the news that seemed to devastate you entirely more than it did to him. instead, being the lover that you are, you were miserable; what could you have possibly done to have everything turn out like this?
three months in, you expected to feel better. you had countless talks with your friends, each giving you a different reason behind why he left.
"he was definitely cheating on you. no way he got distant out of nowhere."
"maybe he was getting bored? you didn't deserve that; relationships are supposed to be boring after some time."
"i think maybe he wanted to be free out of a relationship. y'know, he's in college and he probably wants freedom. a relationship feels stuffy and trapped, so i don't blame him. maybe you should move on... get with someone new."
but you knew him. and you know that none of those answers fit the boy you still loved.
so, when he showed up at your doorstep for the first time since that fateful day you broke up with him, your breath hitched back into your lungs. you felt your heart drop for two reasons: one, you definitely were not over him, or the mop on his head, or his expressive eyes, or any part of your relationship that happened, and two, his cheek was bleeding with a deep gash and his eye was bruised.
with a broken, cracked voice, he spoke slowly.
"i'm sorry. i didn't know where else to go."
====
you didn't know what to say, opting to grab his arm and take him to your couch. you stood towering ever-so-slightly over him, as he sat on the brown, floral couch in front of you. one part of you wanted to slap him across the face; hurt him even more, the way that he hurt you. but you couldn't do that. so, with your self-restraint and the other part of you, you walked into the restroom, bent down to the cabinet under the sink, and pulled out the first aid kit.
you curled onto the couch beside him, putting gloves onto your hands and hearing them snap into place. his eyes lingered onto you, as you prepared all of your equipment to disinfect the cut. the expression on his face was unreadable to you; perhaps it's been too long since the look of love was on his face towards you.
"you aren't gonna ask me what happened?" he breaks the silence.
you avoid eye contact, "figured you wouldn't tell me."
he stayed silent for the moments after your general statement; he couldn't argue with something that was correct. so, he shut up. you cupped his face in a way that was familiar; the motion was the same as when you'd kiss him. you knew you both felt the familiar sense of deja vu at your movements. you also know that it was probably better for the both of you to not acknowledge it.
taking iodine on a swab, you warned him, "this might hurt."
he closed his eyes and braced for impact, "it's okay."
you swabbed his cheekbone and felt his body tense, wincing in the process.
"sorry," you mutter.
"don't be."
you continued to swab the cut, making sure it was disinfected. then, taking a glob of gauze out of the kit, you stuffed it into the cut, followed by putting a sheet of gauze over the top and taping that to his skin. within the whole process, he didn't stop staring.
you begin to pack the medical equipment up, "you should be okay now. just try not to mess with it too much and-"
"i'm sorry."
you tensed, "what?"
"for everything," you saw a flash of vulnerability coat his face like paint on a wall, "i'm so, so sorry for everything."
"don't do that."
"i need to tell you-"
"wheeler, don't fucking do that."
a look of hesitancy riddled his face with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.
you took a deep breath.
"now i get answers? after how long?"
"please," he begged, "just let me talk-"
"no, i'm not gonna let you talk because there's no more space for talking- there's no more time to fucking talk, are you serious?"
"i can explain everything, i swear-"
"three months. i haven't seen you in three months and now you suddenly just want to explain everything? no, wheeler, how dare you. how dare you? you think you can just throw me away whenever you want and i'll be your little toy that you get to play with whenever you get bored? no, i'm not. i'm a fucking. person. michael. i'm a person, whether you like it or not- and you don't get to tell me that after three fucking months, you can explain because there's nothing to explain-"
your breath hitched as you felt his lips on yours; an acquainted act that hasn't been used in what feels like forever. your brain rapidly told you to stop; that this wasn't right, and that he couldn't treat you like this. however, your heart had other plans. soon, your lips morphed together like it was a kiss that was meant to be. you felt his rough, gangly hands find their way to your waist as he pulled you over him, positioning himself in between your thighs. your tongues became one, as your own hands reached to cup both sides of his jaw and neck.
one thing that you suddenly remembered about the way he kissed is that, when he kisses, he's passionate about it. in fact, he was kissing you like you were air and he was drowning. it felt needy. it felt desperate. it felt right.
you don't know how long his hands were roaming on your body, nor how long your hands were roaming his, before you pulled away for air. you still sat with him in between your legs, straddling his body and resting your hands on his gray hoodie. you were catching your breath and playing with the strings of his hood, while he simply admired you from below. soon after, the admiration turned to an expression you couldn't read, as yours turned into an expression of worry.
"baby, please," he wrapped his hands around yours, "please. let me explain everything."
you sighed, knowing that there was no way out of this.
"okay."
====
after multiple vhs tapes, polaroids of his mother in the hospital with gnarly scars on, the story of how he got the gash onto his cheek, and various voice recordings, your mouth was left agape. sat beside him, your hand found itself onto his; guilt began to creep onto your features. he was going through all of that, and you were nowhere to be found; what does that make you as his girlfriend at the time? you tuned his voice out for the last minute or so, before his hand tightened onto yours, pulling you out of your thoughts and engaging you into his.
"...and i'm just- i'm so sorry. i guess i just, like, didn't know how to tell you any of that and i didn't want to involve you because- well, there were so many times i could've died and every single time i almost did, i thought about what would happen if anything happened to you if i involved you into this and i wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something happened to you."
he attempted to read the lines on your face, wondering what you were feeling, if you believed him, and if you missed him the same way he did. you stayed silent, before a stray tear fell from your eye. you attempted to wipe it before he noticed. obviously, it didn't work."
he cupped your face gently, as if you were going to break like china shattered against the floor, "tell me what you're thinking."
you took a couple deep breaths, unable to vocalize how you felt.
"i can leave if you want me to," he removed his hand, the warmth on your face suddenly turning cold, and stood up from the couch "forget i said anything- i'm sorry, i'll go."
"no," you grabbed his hand, "stay."
you pulled him down, laying yourselves down with your legs tangled and engaging him into a hug. you cradled his face as it rested on your chest. mike didn't know what exactly you were doing, but he needed it. he needed you.
his arms wrapped around your waist as you both sat there silently, processing all the information that was just said. the grip you had on each other was as tight as a newborn's fist; as if the other person were going to slip into thin air if you let go.
after a couple seconds of laying there, you bent your neck slightly down, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. you felt him breathe in your scent. to you, it was floral, sweet, and feminine. to him, it was home that he hadn't been with in ages.
"i believe you," you rubbed your thumb in side-to-side motions on his cheek while his head rested on your chest, "i'm sorry."
"what are you sorry for?" he asked, "you have nothing to be sorry about."
"i'm sorry about your parents in the hospital, and i'm sorry that all of this has happened to you. i'm sorry that you didn't feel like you could tell me all of this. i'm sorry i left you when you needed me-"
"no," he propped himself up onto his elbows to face you, "none of this is on you. i didn't tell you because i didn't want you to get hurt. i guess it just got too painful to keep to myself."
he pauses with uncertainty.
you take notice of his facial expression, "take your time, baby. what is it?"
"i thought i could keep you safe by letting you leave but i just can't do it anymore. i miss you- i miss you so fucking much. i haven't woken up without thinking about you in months. i tried convincing myself this was for the better, and i know you could still be in trouble because i told you everything, but i'm selfish. you know this- i want things for my own and i'm so, so selfish, and i just need you back, baby, please."
he takes a deep breath and continues.
"take me back."
you gently cup his cheeks once more and placed a kiss onto his lips, once again feeling his grip tighten on your waist. this time, there was no urgency, nor was there desperation. this time, there was intention. there was love. you pulled away, to which his lips tried to chase after you like you were a drug and he was an addict.
"you have to talk to me," you placed a kiss onto his forehead, "it's the only way this'll work. it's not just you, it's us. i'm wherever you are."
"promise."
and though "i love you "wasn't said, in true mike wheeler fashion, you both knew the love was there. whether it's car tunes in front of family video, staring into your eyes, or showing up at your house after a fight with a demon you didn't even know existed, it's one step closer to three words and eight letters.
no time to die
[mike wheeler x reader]
[synopsis] after spending his childhood battling monsters that even the best of federal agents couldn't handle, mike wheeler makes it his lifelong promise to change the system of knowledge in and beyond human bodies and minds, specializing in those included in non-human creatures with a secret agency known as the specialists of unnatural creatures unit, or SOUNCU. however, a battle between his own head and his heart takes control of his actions when he gets injured during a mission, only with you, his assigned partner, to take care of him.
[mentions] special agent au, specialagent! + aftercollege! mike wheeler x specialagent! + aftercollege! reader, angst + fluff, violence + blood, forced proximity, argument, forbidden romance, other d&d and fictional folktale villains (in this fic it's the hat man or scratch), set in the 90s
[author's note] hi guys :p this is my first mike wheeler fic! i hope u guys enjoy... pls let me know if u want more of this special agent kind of fic
====
being transferred from the intelligence branch of the fbi to such an unknown branch of federal law enforcement meant jumping straight into frigid waters, not knowing if you'd ever be able to surface. it was within your dive that you were pulled up by agent wheeler.
prior to the position you obtained at SIUNC, you were stuck in cubicles doing paperwork and research to aid in every branch of the fbi with hot pots of coffee consistently running and the typing of keyboards constantly in your ears. you were insanely knowledgable and disgustingly educated; frankly, the higher-ups in the field knew you were becoming overqualified. they promoted you to an agent at the specialists of unnatural creatures unit of the FBI; though you weren't exactly aware of this units' existence, your farewell party came shortly after your meeting.
you were assigned agent wheeler's partner shortly after your trainings and, at first, he seemed like a cocky know-it-all who didn't have much room for connection. every word he spoke was about the job: a new creature, or a new scientist behind a creature, or a new location that was somehow creating something that seemed impossible to exist.
actually, many aspects of your job seemed impossible to exist at first; you stared at the room of people speaking about their experience with creatures like "demogorgans" and "demodogs," as if you were left out of an inside joke. agent wheeler didn't necessarily help your feelings as an outsider, as he constantly assumed you knew all that he was speaking about. you didn't like feeling stupid when, in your previous branch, you were known as the smartest there was.
it was through him speaking of his experiences that you realized his passion for defeating evil was from fear; behind all of the smart-ass moments was someone who was truly afraid of the world ending, the same way the world almost ended when he was a child, tween, and teenager. you watched the way that his brows would furrow, breath would become heavier, and eyes began to widen whenever he spoke of his near death experiences and trauma. sympathizing with him soon became easier and allowing your genuine curiosity to thrive in your new environment aided in getting comfortable with him.
it was through questions, answers, conversations, and late-night chinese food that you truly began to connect with him over time. in fact, sometimes it would be him who asked the questions and you who would answer. however, it was also through shared glances, "accidental" nudges, and close proximity from reading the same files that you began to wonder if you were getting too close.
you know to never think of your partner the way that you do; you know that falling for someone in such a dangerous field is never a good idea, but you felt some sort of tension between you and your partner you started to like the fact that he was so focused on work; maybe it was a good thing that he was "agent wheeler" to you instead of "mike." there was simply too much on the line.
====
you were currently in the office, reading a case file titled "scratch," with him; you each had a cup of coffee and a croissant (courtesy of the higher-ups) beside you, as you both circled, read, and spoke. this was what most days consisted of; you hadn't stepped out of your safety bubble.
"can i think logically for a sec?" you asked, taking a sip of the warm, bitter liquid.
agent wheeler snickered, "is anything about this job logical?"
you playfully punched his shoulder, "shut up. let me speak."
"okay, okay- i jest. what's on your mind?"
"what if it's just, i don't know, sleep paralysis? i mean- in these case files, it's talks about how each victim was sleepy, or tired, or unconscious. i know we work with the most insane shit, but, could it be that this case has something normal that people struggle with?"
he furrowed his brows and loosened the collar of his button-up, "i guess, yea. the concept of being unconscious is interesting though."
"how so?"
"i mean, one thing i learned about being unconscious is that for some individuals it opens something like a portal between realms. there's a lot of cases i've studied where sleeping or even just passing out from dehydration or starvation makes you spiritually and physically weaker, while breaking the barriers between our world and others."
"so, you're saying that," you take a bite of your croissant, "whatever this is, could be a being from a whole other dimension?"
"yeah. anything is possible."
"so, how do we.. stop it..?"
"come with me."
====
the room that he took you to looked straight out of frankenstein's lab; two cylindrical chambers that illuminated a strange, blue light, with pipes and wires coming out of the top in every which way. computer screens covered the room top to bottom, different codes and images shown on each one. the room itself was dim other than the low light of the machines; as he stood in front of you, you noticed that the light hit his cheekbones and revealed the depths of his facial structure. honestly, it was hard to look away.
he puts his arm on your shoulder, "hello?"
"hm?" you ask, confused.
"i've been speaking for the past," he looked at his watch, "two minutes. something on your mind?"
you swallowed, "oh, i'm fine- sorry, i spaced out. what were you saying?"
"these are hyperactive reality quantum universe shifting machines that would basically take us to scratch's realm. we'd have a limit of 48 hours there, though, any longer and we risk being stuck."
"are we trying to kill it or something?"
"what?" he squinted, "we're gathering data so that we're aware with what we're dealing with and how we get it out of our universe, and then eventually we'll come back if we really have to."
"right."
pressing a button to the right of the machines, he opened the wall to reveal hidden weaponry: various guns, lasers, knives, blades, and more. he began to put some in a case, as well as in the holster of his jeans.
"stay with me at all times."
"if we only have 2 days to get data, shouldn't we split up? cover more ground-"
he cuts you off, gazing deeply into your eyes with a passion you haven't seen in such a seemingly lifeless man, "no, you're staying with me. end of story."
"what happens if we don't get enough data?"
"the machines have a cool down period. we won't be able to go back for around a month. what's your specialty?"
"my 'specialty?'"
"like," he reaches for a gun and a blade, "close range or far?"
"uh, i wouldn't know."
he briefly pauses his packing, "what do you mean? i thought you've been apart of the fbi for a while, haven't you?"
"well, yeah, but i stayed indoors. i was in intelligence."
his brows furrowed as he turned to you, "so, you have no clue what you're doing."
"i wouldn't say that-"
"now that i know that, maybe you should stay back. i can handle this."
"what?" you raised your voice, "i'm capable of doing whatever it is that you're doing, agent."
"you're gonna get hurt."
"and you aren't?"
he went silent for a moment, before closing his eyes and sighing.
breaking the silence, he continues, "i'm just saying that maybe you should stay back since you don't know what you're doing yet. maybe wait for a simpler case."
"it's now or never; you've said this how many times before?" you argued.
his voice started to gain volume, booming against the walls of the room, "those other cases were even riskier! i couldn't trust that you'd be mentally there."
you weren't going to give up. you were as stubborn as you are smart
"i'm going."
"no, you're not. stop arguing with me when i'm just trying to keep you safe-"
you cut him off, taking the case of bladed weaponry and first aid out of his hands "enough with this shit, wheeler. i was trained for this- we went through the same training. i won't learn if you don't let me."
he stared down at you, inching closer to you. the tension between your bodies could be cut with a knife. he took a deep breath, staring deeply at the glare your eyes gave him.
"you're staying behind me."
"fine."
====
the realm was dark and desolate; reminiscent of an abandoned city. it was uncomfortably cold, like you were walking through ghosts or ghouls. for another universe, it very closely represented the slums of chicago or new york. the sky was a darker shade of blue, which lit the architecture around you. though it seemed abandoned, you heard whispers and murmurs around you, almost as if you messed up a dance on a stage in front of an entire school. you watched the swings of the playground in front of you move on its own, trying to convince yourself that it was probably the wind or an animal. agent wheeler studied your face, which held a mixture of worry and curiosity plastered all over your features.
you flinched as his hand touched your shoulder from behind, "you can always go back."
"no, i'm fine."
he looked at your outfit; a collared blouse, low-rise flared jeans, and platform boots. there was no way you expected to be put out into the field today.
"you cold?" he questioned.
"i'm alright," you answered whilst marveling at the world around you, "i'm used to cold weather."
"suit yourself. get behind me."
he moved in front of you, to which you followed his movements. walking down the street, you were both silent besides the sounds of footsteps; occasionally, it felt like too many footsteps for it to simply be yours and his. he glanced back every now and then, making sure you were close to him, offering glances that asked if you were alright. you'd nod, and the both of you would continue your trek.
the red lightbulb of a building caught both of your attention, contrasting against the blue of your surroundings.
he points, "i think that could be something."
"what's your plan?"
"take out your blade. we'll see if there's anything there."
you did as you were told, before he reached into the holster in his jeans for a laser gun. looking above, the sign read, "the two of you slowly crept up to the wooden door, attempting to make your footsteps as light as possible. his hand reached in front of him for the doorknob and twisted steadily.
suddenly, a sharpened piece of steel pierced through the door, slicing a gash into the right side of his rib. a laugh was heard on the other side, alongside a bounty of even more whispers. after a couple seconds, a stinging sensation occurred as the smell of metal reached his nose. he crouched over, holding his cut and letting out a mixture of a groan and a cry.
====
somehow, you mustered up your strength and took him to a nearby building, helping him walk by placing his arm around your neck. the sign outside read, "pinecrest estates;" maybe it was some sort of apartment. you rattled doorknobs around you, trying to find one that was unlocked.
his breath became somewhat labored from breathing through the pain, "i'm fine- we're running out of time. it's been three hours."
you rolled your eyes, "wheeler, i just watched you get sliced by some sick freak behind a door with some steel. it could get infected."
on the eleventh try, one of the apartment doors opened, revealing a dusty, dirty, cobweb-infested suite. if you could guess by the furniture who lived there previously, if anyone did, you'd assume it was some grandma. the couch was floral, accompanied by a powdery table with a victorian lamp beside, which surprisingly worked when you pulled the beaded, metal string. the air smelt reminiscent of baby powder and magnolias; if you weren't in such a creepy realm, you'd feel somewhat nostalgic.
you gently placed him down on the couch, to which he let out a small grunt. reaching into your briefcase, you found the small pouch of bandaids, anti-septic, gauze, a stitching kit, and other miscellaneous health products. you knelt beside him, knees touching the cold, hardwood floor. paralleling the argument you had in your universe, his gaze shifted downwards to look at you.
you cleared your throat, "wheeler."
"yeah?"
"can you, uh, take off your sweaters?"
his eyes widened; for a moment, he forgot the situation he was in.
"so, i can clean up your wound," you continued.
"oh," his reality was soon brought to him, "yeah."
he took off his gray, canvas jacket before trying, and failing, to remove his collared, striped long sleeve. another groan escaped from his mouth.
"i can help you," you offered.
"please."
you acted as if any sudden movements would break him, like a bull in a china shop. you slowly unbuttoned his sweater and felt his eyes staring at you as you started to undress his shirt. pulling his sweater off with caution, your eyes met the wound on his rib; luckily, it wasn't completely deep. it was shallow on the outer areas and deeper towards the middle.
"how does it look?" he questioned.
your fingers traced the skin alongside it; in that moment, agent wheeler felt vulnerable. you were watching him in his own weakness. he wasn't the type to allow people to see him when he's broken, whether mentally or physically, especially after how he grew up with more things to worry about. insecurity crept into his mind; would you still view him the way he wants you to?
"it's not too bad," you responded, "i think only the middle part needs stitches."
"stitches?" he looked down at his body, "i thought it wasn't that deep."
"it's only deep in the middle. i don't think it'll take that long to clean."
you felt his eyes watching you with a pained expression painted onto his face; specifically, his furrowed eyebrows, slightly scrunched nose, and bitten lip. you were preparing the anti-septic to be put into his flesh.
"does it help to look at me?" you ask.
"what?"
your eyes met his, "i don't know- like, does it help to look at me instead of at your cut?"
he had many thoughts in his head to your question. there were moments where he forgot the cut even existed because he was too focused on the fact that you were the one caring for him, in addition to the fact that, though the room was lit dimly with a lamp, you were the light that illuminated his eyes. that, in and of itself, scared him. obviously, he can't say that.
so, he bit his tongue.
"kind of, yeah."
"hold still, this might hurt," you admitted, "keep your eyes on me if it helps you."
you rubbed his open flesh with the anti-septic on a piece of gauze; he let out a moan of pain and closed his eyes tightly.
"almost done- 'm sorry."
"it's okay," he let out through his groans.
you removed the gauze from his wound, before prepping the needle for his stitches.
"this is ironic," you mentioned.
he carried a look of confusion, "what do you mean?"
"you were so hellbent on me not coming because 'i could get hurt,'" you started stitching the middle part of his wound, "when it was you who did."
"rather it be me than you," he softly admitted.
"y'know, i'd prefer it to be neither of us, actually," you joked.
a shared laugh emerged and contrasted from the eerieness of the room, slowly dying down as you focused once again.
"hey," he started, "i'm, uh, i'm sorry."
you finished stitching the wound up and stopped your movements, gazing at him, "for?"
"taking so long to let you come with me on a mission. you're my partner- i need to stop acting like you're not."
you took a deep breath, "can i ask something?"
"yeah, of course."
you got off your knees and sat beside him, his eyes still following you, "why?"
"why... what?"
"why were you so hellbent on not letting me come?"
he stiffened, getting up and sitting on his own without the help of the couch's backboard. he opened his mouth, expecting at least something to come out, but nothing did. he paused for a moment, thought long and hard. his eyes held a story that he was about to tell; they held hesitancy at first, but they slowly began to morph into a look that said "fuck it."
"i feel something towards you."
you felt your breath slightly hitch, "what do you mean?"
he attempted to get up, "this is stupid, nevermind- forget i said anything-"
"no," you pulled his hand to sit him down, "continue. please."
there was a decision to be made in mike wheeler's head. there was a devil on his shoulder telling him that if he continues speaking, he would fuck everything up between you and him. the chemistry and connection that built over the months you've known each other would be completely gone, and he wasn't ready for his life to be rid of someone who graced it as much as you did. in fact, the fear of you transferring branches, or getting assigned a new partner, or even sharing the same looks that the both of you exchanged in those late-night case studies was enough to put his feelings away in a box from both you and him
before you were recommended to his boss, he was sure he'd continue working alone; he was brooding, and negative, and serious. definitely more passionate about what he does than any other agent, which is what made him the best. if you told him your thoughts of him when you first met, he would agree; he truly did only care about the job, the title, the redemption that he would receive from all the times he couldn't save people as a teenager.
then, you showed up and ruined that. you made him realize there's more to life than being a hero or a scientist or a genius; there's also the possibility of being a lover. it was impossible for him not to fall for you. in such a dark field of death and the macabre and the supernatural, you were human and unashamed to be. you reminded him that, through all the unnatural and the inorganic, there's humanity even in the darkest depths.
there was an angel on his shoulder, whispering in his ear to be honest; to change his own life instead of waiting for the next creature he defeats to change it for him. there he was, with a cut as deep as a crater, and yet, all he felt was you.
his voice lowered to a whisper, "i'm scared."
"of?" you matched his tone.
"losing you."
and there, the snowball turned into an avalanche.
"i'm scared that one day you'll come with me and it'll be you who's hurt instead of me. it'll be you who's bleeding or you who's in pain and i can't do anything to stop it. i'm scared that one day you'll come with me and that'll be the last time i see you. i can't lose you- i just can't. i don't know what i would do if my days didn't have you in it. i've lost so many people in my life, ever since i was, what, twelve? so many people, and yet, i've never cared about any of them the way i do about you. i know it's fucked up to say, but i just- they aren't you. you are the only you that's in my life. if i lost you, i won't be able to survive that."
for the first time, his last name came out as gentle as a feather, "wheeler.."
"and i know i probably sound insane, but i just need to say it. even if you don't feel the same," he takes another deep breath, "it's now or never."
your hand found its way to cup his jaw and, as you observed his eyes, there was no longer any form of annoyance or anger; it was replaced with vulnerability and fear. your thumb rubbed reassuring strokes on his cheek before you closed the distance between your lips. the first kiss was short and sweet; a trial run into murky waters, just to test the temperature and surroundings. afterwards, the fear in his eyes turned into pure endearment.
you fell first. however, mike wheeler fell hard as he realized he didn't want to let go; in fact, he physically couldn't.
his hands founds their way to your waist as he closed the gap once again, holding you feverishly as if you were going to disappear if he let go. passion erupted as your tongues morphed together, playing a symphony that was always meant to be heard by the both of you. your other hand found its way to his other cheek as you bit his bottom lip, earning a whimper from him. even though you were in such a cold, desolate place, you both felt hot and electrified.
you only pulled away when you both ran out of breath, revealing both of your puffy, wet lips. you stared into each others eyes with a newfound sense of affection.
"wheeler, you must've either lost too much blood or be out of your mind if you think i don't feel the same way," you joked
he responded, "mike."
"hm?"
he gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek, "call me mike."