Stupid Love || Michael Afton x Reader

fifty six - decisions

Contains suicidal themes!

September 6th 1993.

"Terry, where did you put all the hair bobbles?"

I was late for work once again; all blame on Michael and his horny shenanigans. As sweet it was for him to show up at the door with a bouquet of red and white roses, the extra makeout session was unnecessary.

"Most of them snapped." Terry sighed, watching as I rushed around searching for my nurse uniform, my ego and Michael's common sense. "I thought they could handle my new braids."

"We have thick ones for a reason." I groaned, standing in the centre of the living room with my hands on my hips, nothing but a pair of panties and one of Michael's filthy shirts on.

"Terry, how come whenever I come over your milk is always-?" Michael popped round the corner, smirked, then disappeared again. I was officially going to sign a restraining order against him on my working days.

While occupied myself by searching the laundry basket, Terry had decided to team up with Jesus and find my long lost uncomfortable nursing outfit that I'd rather burn in a fireplace than wear on a daily basis. "They were in my room, you guys better not have had sex in my bed." She complained and tossed it over to me. "There's blood on it by the way."

"Where?"

"Ass."

"Oh for gods sake," I sighed heavily as I eyed the thin of piece of fabric. Thank god they're wasn't anything on it, Terry just decided to wake up and be a cheeky bitch this morning. "What are you talking about? It's clean."

Terry shot me a large grin and I threw a stinky old thong of hers straight at her mouth. Michael was secretly staring at me from the door with a mug in his hand, eyeing me like I was Jackie Chan doing back flips on top of a teapot. As much as I loved his usually mesmerising blue eyes, they were starting to creep me out that day.

"Michael can you stop being a pervert and go start the car." I grumbled, stomping into my bedroom and finally pulling off my nightshirt. Jesus christ was my heart racing, and over work too? Working in the hospital was only stressful if I was called in for an emergency, but I literally took blood tests and served revolting macaroni and cheese.

"The car doesn't work." He smiled innocently. How did he get in my doorway?

My movements came to a halt. "You can't be serious."

"Yep. I sent it to the garage this morning." Lovely. Just fucking magnificent.

"I'm kidding! Good lord you're stressed today." He laughed, showing off his perfect lines of pearly teeth. "Panties in a jumble hm?"

I decided not to face his agonisingly handsome face and get on with pulling on my two single pieces of clothing. He didn't need to see my tits either, he kneaded them like doughballs the previous night.

"Michael, I swear to fucking god if you keep being a pain in the ass you can kiss my ass sweet goodbye." I muttered as I attempted to do the clasp of the bra that had been lying on my musty, long-needing cleaned floor, but the clasp was being a bitch so the lilac, lacy fabric almost said hello to Michael's face.

He raised an eyebrow, his tall, muscular body practically filling the entire doorway. The way he stood literally yelled that he was going to lecture me for a good three hours on 'how I shouldn't stress myself' and how 'he's always there when I need him'. As comforting his tender words were, they did nothing but have my fuming head explode from fury.

Instead, he just picked my bra up from the floor and helped me into it as if I was some kid. "You're acting strange today, do you have cramps? A headache? I can make a stop at the pharmacy if you want to." His fingers; gentle and steady, clasping my bra shut and I sighed; my heart aching for comfort.