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pod95 · 3 years

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Pairing: Finn Balor X reader

Word Count: 2152

Warnings: Smutt (implied)

Description: A/n you and your best friend Becky Lynch are sharing a hotel room together, but when her boyfriend Seth Rollins sneaks in, you are left with no choice but to sleep in his room with the guy you hate, Finn Balor.

A/N This is part of a series of one shots I am doing. You can read this and the others on my Wattpad, AO3 and FanFiction pages.

Room Swap

"Name please," the receptionist asked as you searched through your purse for your ID.

"Y/l/n. It should be a twin room."

"Ah yes, here you are," she turned to the board behind and picked out a key card. You're in room 412."

"Thanks!" you take the key card off of her and return to Becky, who was waiting with your luggage in the lobby.

"Everything all sorted, roomie?" Becky asked, thumbing through a magazine.

"Yeah I can't wait. Ever since you got with Seth we never get to bunk together. It's gonna be like old times!"

"I just hope you're ready for a wild night of stuffing our faces with room service and bingeing bad horror movies," she winked and giggled.

"Ooft sounds like a hot date," you teased her.

"Speaking of hot..." Becky gestured to the lobby entrance where her boyfriend Seth Rollins was bringing in his luggage. He made his way over to you and beamed when he saw Becky.

"Damn, you're beautiful. Can I get your number?" he teased.

"Sorry, I have a boyfriend. He's super buff and macho and could probably kick your ass," she retorted, planting a loving kiss on his cheek. Seth wrapped his arms around her waist as you smiled at how happy you were that your friend found someone who truly loved her.

"Are you sure you wanna spend the night with y/n? I mean I love Finn but we could have a LOT of fun in a room together..." Seth cooed, kissing Beckys neck.

"Hey, Rollins! Stop making moves on my woman. You get every other night with her. Go near her, and I'll chop that dick off!" you threatened playfully.

"Fine, Jeez!" he laughed, "We really need to get you a boyfriend."

You shuddered at the words. You had been secretly seeing someone, but broke it off a couple of weeks ago and you were starting to lose hope of ever finding a decent guy.

"You know, Finn is still single..." Becky prompted.

"Ugh no way!" you retched, "not even if he was the last man on Earth."

"Finn's a great guy! I really don't get why you hate him so much..." Seth shook his head.

"Where do I start? He's cocky and narcissistic, he thinks he's God's gift to women, he's always bragging about how many girls he's been with. Yeah sure, he's hot, but he knows it. Besides, he's a jerk to me whenever we're together."

"Y/n, you haven't even given him a chance. I reckon if you spent some time alone with him, you'd see all the good parts of him!" Seth enthused.

"He wears very tight trunks in the ring, I've already seen WAY more parts of him than I'm comfortable with."

"Aww, y/n, I'm flattered you spend your free time thinking about me in tight trunks!" came an Irish accent from behind you. You groaned internally.

"I wouldn't be... You missed the part where I called you cocky and narcissistic." you jeered, smirking at Finn.

"It's not cocky if you can back it up love," he winked, and you hated yourself for finding him so attractive.

"Right, sure. Guys like you are all talk."

"Oh one night alone with me, and you'd never want to leave," he went to brush a hair from your face, giggling mischievously as you swatted it away. "I could prove it to you tonight if you want."

"Oh my god, why are all the men in my life trying to ruin our night together? Go find some other woman to disappoint, Balor! She's mine tonight," Becky scolded him. "Y/n, we should go to our room before these Jackasses get in the way."

Becky stood up, kissed Seth affectionately and grabbed her luggage. You followed her leave, grabbing your things and saying goodbye to Seth.

"What no goodbye kiss for me?" Finn hollered is you set off towards the elevator, cackling at the middle finger you were now responding with.

When you got to the room, Becky kicked her shoes off and dove onto a bed. You changed into a tank top and some leggings as she looked through the room service menu.

"I'm gonna get some lobster. What do you want?"

"Ooh very fancy. I'll have the same."

You spent the evening pigging out on fancy room service and making fun of terrible movies before eventually feeling too tired to stay awake and nodding off halfway through the second movie.

Just as you'd fallen asleep, you were awoken by a noise. You weren't sure what it was at first, it sounded kind of wet. Then you heard a soft moan coming from the bed next to you and you looked over to see a huge lump under the covers of Beckys bed. Groaning, you turned your bedside lamp on.

"Really guys? I'm trying to sleep here..." you protested.

"Oh shit, sorry y/n. I'll just go." a naked Seth peeked out from under the covers, his hair messy and his voice breathless.

"No, it's fine just... Give me your key card. I'll sleep in your room."

"Really? Sure, it's in my pants. Thanks y/n, you're the best." Seth said, before retreating back under the covers, much to the delight of a giggling Becky.

You hastily retrieved the key card (room 426) from his discarded pants and made your escape.

As you stormed down the hall to where Seth and Finn were staying, you muttered under your breath. You knew that Becky and Seth were a couple, but do they have no boundaries? You arrived at room 426 and knocked on the door. Despite having the key, you didn't want to just barge into the room unannounced.

A shirtless Finn opened the door. He blinked in surprise upon seeing you, before smiling cockily.

"I see you decided to take me up on my offer earlier," he purred, leaning coolly against the doorframe.

"No chance in hell. Seth and Becky are 'getting busy', and as close as we are, I REALLY don't wanna see her O face so... Seth said I could crash here. Sorry to disappoint you," you shoved past, struggling to keep your eyes off of his impressive torso.

"Alright but I should warn you... I sleep naked," Finn beamed at you, amused by the look of horror that crossed your face.

"Whatever just... You stay in your bed, I'll stay in mine and we should get through the night without me beating you to death!" you smiled sweetly back at him.

"Oh come on. I'm just messing with you," he chuckled, grabbing a towel from the wardrobe. "I'm gonna take a shower, TV remote is there. Make yourself at home."

Finn disappeared into the bathroom and shortly after, you heard the gushing of the shower. For a moment, you imagined the water cascading down Finn's abs and trickling down his body. Disgusted with yourself for imagining such things, you shook the thought from your mind and turned on the TV.

Eventually, Finn emerged from the shower, and you were surprised to see him wearing a pair of shorts and a vest. You stared at him for a moment, still confused.

"Is there a problem?" he asks, snapping you out of your stupor.

"No! Not at all... You're just such a playboy, I'm surprised you're wearing actual clothes and not a towel that's far too small for you," you challenged him, secretly disappointed by the reality.

"Contrary to what you might think about me, I'm not a sex pest. I may be cocky and full of myself, but I'm not gonna go out of my way to make you uncomfortable." annoyed, Finn collapsed into his bed, refusing to make eye contact with you.

"Finn... I'm sorry. I'm being a jerk. Honestly, thanks for letting me stay here. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Well... You can buy me pizza. I like pepperoni and stuffed crust please!" He grinned cheekily and you couldn't help but smile back at him.

"Pizza, for Mr Abs? What about all those carbs?" you teased him, picking up the menu from the desk.

"Well, you really upset me and now I'm eating my feelings," Finn pouted adorably at you, giggling when you threw a pillow at him.

You and Finn went back and forth teasing each other until the pizza arrived, when Finn jumped up excitedly and rushed to the door to collect it.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Finn asked, sitting at the end of his bed and tucking into his Pizza.

"Sure," you started flicking through the movie channels. "Oooh, Toy Story!"

You lay back, occasionally eyeing up Finns pizza. Your stomach gave you away and let out a thunderous growl, as you held a pillow over it, trying to muffle the sound.

"Do you want some?" Finn tempted you, patting an empty space on the bed next to him. Nodding enthusiastically, you accepted the invitation and grabbed a slice.

The room fell quiet apart from the sound of you and Finn happily tucking in to the pizza.

"So are you feeling any better?" Finn asked, grabbing another slice.

"Better? What do you mean?"

"Well you seemed angry earlier. It must be frustrating never getting to see Becky," Finn prompted, giving you a look of genuine sympathy. You were surprised that he had picked up on it. You usually had a bad attitude around him anyway, so it was impressive that he could tell you were more upset than usual.

"I was at first, but I get it. They're a couple, they wanna spend time together. If I had a boyfriend, I'd be the same, " you confessed.

"So what happened with that guy you were seeing?" Finn asked, the hint of a smile on his lips.

"Oh that didn't go anywhere. Wait, how did you know about that?"

"Oh... I guess... Becky might have mentioned it..." Finn stammered, unusually flustered.

"Becky didn't know..." you eyed him suspiciously. Finn paused, thinking for a moment before sighing.

"OK fine..." he shuffled nervously. "A couple of weeks ago, I was outside your locker room and I heard you on the phone to him."

"And why exactly were you lurking outside my locker room, Mr Balor?" you teased him, amused by this vulnerable version of Finn.

"Well, I was planning on asking you to dinner," he quickly reverted back to his usual, charismatic self.

Speechless and somewhat embarrassed, you grabbed another slice of pizza and continued watching the movie. You're cheeks felt hot, and you could still feel Finns eyes on you. But even so, you couldn't help but feel surprised by how comfortable you were around Finn.

After several minutes, you dared to glance back at him. The glance escalated, and soon you found yourself examining his features in great detail. He really was incredibly attractive. Your attention moved from his dark hair towards his mesmerising blue eyes, twinkling with delight as he watched the movie, down his strong cheekbones to where an adorable, boyish smile perfectly complimented the rest of his face. As he turned towards you and caught you staring, every instinct told you to avert your eyes, but you just couldn't.

His eyes locked onto yours, holding your gaze as you felt your heart rate increasing. He smirked, pleased with himself for having caught you staring at him. Unblinking, he looked you up and down, licking his lips seductively. Bashful, you turned away, not wanting him to see you blush. Finn reached out a hand to stroke your reddening cheek.

Your skin tingled, as you nuzzled against his hand. Finn let out a low, victorious chuckle and cupped your other cheek in his hand, turning it to face him. You stared at his lips for just a moment before closing the distance between your face and his, stopping just before his lips. You closed your eyes, smiled to yourself, and pressed your lips to his. It was gentle and nervous at first, but as your hunger for him grew, the kiss became more passionate. You let out a small moan when he gently nibbled your lower lip. He pulled away, breathless, eyeing you intensely.

"If this goes much further... I won't be able to stop myself. Are you OK with that?" Finn asked, stroking your cheek. You nodded, never breaking eye contact. Finn smiled roguishly.

"Perfect." Finn grinned, tangling his fingers in your hair and devouring your lips, as you made a silent reminder to thank Seth and Becky

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, and if you want a part 2 at some point in the future 😊

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chocolatemillkk · 5 years

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Call me Out (CM)

"Soo what are we doing again?" I ask for the fifth time, hugging my arms to my chest. It was an unusually cool evening in LA and although my bottom half was covered appropriately in a pair of jeans, I had on only a tube top leaving my bare arms covered in goosebumps.

"Well Rick forgot his ID and so did Omar and Anth's still on the damn phone." My friend sighs. "So I don't know!"

"Just go to the club without us!" Rick says for the millionth time and I seriously wonder why we didn't do just that. "We'll come next time."

"The whole point was to go together since we've all finally got fake IDs." Omar pouts. "They can go if they want. But-"

"We could go to one of those all-age clubs-"

"No! No, those suck-"

"I have an idea." My friends all pause at the new voice. It was Anth's friend Conor who he introduced us to earlier that evening. We'd all said hello and included him in the group without a question even though he was obviously British and not from around here. Which we all secretly thought was really cool...but were just too LA to admit. But Conor hadn't gone unnoticed for me-catching my eye and sending my heart racing. Not only because he had the same accent as my favourite movie ever made at the time (Bridget Jone's Diary) but he was cute in a way that wasn't intimidating. "Those of us with ID can get the beer and we can find some place to hang out." Conor licks his lips. "We can still make the most of the night that way."

All eyes are on the group newbie until Omar speaks up, obviously relieved from his fomo: "You're genius. Let's do that."

"Okay, my basement's empty we can head there. So how about Y/N goes and..." Malia stares at our newcomer for an uncomfortable second as she blanks on his name.

"Conor." I cut in. "Conor and I will go."

At the sound of his name, Conor looks up sharply at who said it. I feel myself blushing clumsily as I try not to look as excited as I felt but I couldn't help it! I would finally get some time alone to get to know my sudden new crush.

Since the closest liquor store was right up the street, Conor and I head off and tell the gang we would meet them at Malia's. As we walk, I'm nervous. I fold my arms into myself, and then unfold them, and fold them again before Conor offers his leather jacket.

"Oh I'm fine," I say politely. Damn. I wasn't fine in any way. But I couldn't just accept his-

"No take it. I'm warm." Conor begins stripping the jacket off before I could politely decline again. "I've got a jumper underneath anyway."

"A jumper?" I ask, looking at the sweatshirt he wore underneath and back up at his face.

"Yeah," he picks the fabric up to show me. "A jumper?"

I take the jacket from him and eagerly drape it over my shoulders; its leftover warmth blankets my body. "Is that like, a British thing?" I ask, intrigued and still staring at him, forgetting we should be continuing our walk instead of standing under the street lamp.

"I don't know...I guess?" Conor seems just as nervous as me as he shoves his hands into his pocket. I tug the jacket closer around my body which catches his attention, his eyes roaming all over me. I sense a shift in him, almost unnoticeable except in the way that he finally meets my gaze.

"You've got really nice eyes," he says and then immediately looks away.

"Thanks," I laugh nervously. "You've got a really toasty jacket."

He looks back up, his cheeks a slight pink under the sodium lights, and his tensed face melts into a smile that warms me up from the inside. He has a playful glint as he tugs at the jacket's lapel, "I'm a hot guy-didn't I already say?"

He was hot. But I don't stroke his ego. I turn away instead, continuing again on our trek to the store, calling out behind me. "If I remember correctly the only thing you said was you were warm!"

He laug loudly into the night and the ice between us. We begin talking and asking about the other, greedily tearing up the rare time alone, wanting to know each other as well as we could before we had to return to our group. By the time we get into the liquor store I've told him about growing up in LA, how I hated school, and how my brother drove me crazy and he's told me about the town he's from, his younger brother and sister, and why he was in LA--to work on music. And I was impressed, he was only my age.

"So are you any good?" I ask him as we track down the aisle with the cheaper beer. We're the only ones inside so we try not to draw too much attention.

"No. Not yet," he laughs and his face does the squinty thing I'd started to find adorable. I stare at him as he leans down and picks up two cases.

"Well will you let me hear it? When it is good?" I ask seriously.

He straightens up and turns to me, nodding his head vigorously. "Yeah," he answers, his voice suddenly serious. "I will."

Two Years Later: "I've heard it then," I'm on the phone with Conor as I look out the taxi window into the crowds of tourists. I was on my way to my boyfriend's place and the radio surprised me with a familiar voice. "Your song just came on the radio and I've finally heard it!"

"I was on the radio?" Conor asks from the other side of the world. I wished he was here to hear it with me so I could see his reaction myself. "You heard me in LA?"

"I'm in a taxi," I say. "And I'd recognise your stupid voice anywhere."

"And?" Conor asks, not hiding his excitement at all.

"It's still not good-I told you to only show me when-"

"Shut up!" Conor shouts and I have to move the phone away slightly as his belly-laugh emenates from the phone. "You're a little shit!"

"No!" I insist. "You're shit!"

"Don't say that," Conor's humour is slowly leaking out of his voice and I decide I'd taken the joke far enough.

"It’s-as you would call it-bloody amazing! I was totally kidding. The song. Is. Amazing."

"Really?" Conor asks, his excitement apparent again.

"Yes!" I shout. "You should be so proud of yourself! Soon you'll be as big as Beiber!"

We go back and forth as he shies from the compliments and finally accepts them. We move onto the cliffnotes version of life updates before I reach my destination and tell him I had to go. This was the way it had been with Conor and I over the two years we'd known the other. After an intense first time hanging out, we'd eased up and stuck to the safe option of being good friends. The constant distance between us and the fact that we shared a mutual friend group, prevented us from hooking up-if things went south, it would be very awkward. Plus, we were both busy figuring out our own futures. Mine, currently, was going to school so I could get into acting.

But I still couldn't control my erratic heartbeat whenever I spotted Conor in LA. There was an undeniable attraction, made stronger with the easy chemistry we had. He had a pull on me none of my other crushes or boyfriends ever had. But after a few weeks every time, I had to let Conor go back home to London and as painful as it was each time, it would be made more painful if we were anything more than friends. So I simply chalked it up to a juvenile crush and forced myself onwards.

One Year Later: "Y/N..." Conor pulls his pants onto his hips and secures it with a belt. "I don't know what to-"

"It's fine," I laugh like I thought everything that had happened over the last 10 hours was all one big joke. But my hands shake under the covers and I have a hard time looking him in the eye.

I had turned 21 yesterday and my boyfriend dumped me the morning of because I was being too "clingy”. He was leaving in the afternoon, flying out across the country for some modelling jobs he'd landed and I was mildly upset he had to leave on my birthday. Meanwhile, Conor suprised me at my apartment, completely oblivious, with birthday champagne and a balloon he'd stuck a picture of his face on. It was his only free night because he had to fly out the next morning.

But he'd found me: mascara on my cheeks, crumpled pyjamas, and a fistful of tissues. He sat and listened so patiently before helping me clean up. Once I'd cried it out however, the inevitable happened. We popped the champagne, swore at my ex, drank the bottle between us, and then reached for each other. Because of loneliness or our long history, we ended up in bed. My bed. And I wish I hadn't drank so much so I could remember even half of it but as soon as I woke up I knew I fucked up. I was simultaneously heartbroken over my ex and absolutely gutted that my first time with Conor was under circumstances like this.

"You were comforting me. We're both adults now and we made an adult decision right? It's fine." I sit up, making sure the blankets were wrapped tight around my torso. Conor looks at me hesitantly, his hands dropping to the side and he looks just as gutted. We weren't supposed to let this happen. Not like this. We knew eventually we would sleep together with all the sexual tension we had between us-but never ever like this. This felt cheap...we could barely even remember it.

"So you're okay I have to go again?" Conor asks slowly.

"I'm fine. You have a life to go back to." I say more confidently than I felt-I didn't want to be clingy again. And what would I even say if I wasn't okay? It was a stupid question to ask. "And my shift starts in a couple hours anyway-acting doesn't pay the bills!"

Conor throws his shirt on before sitting beside me. He looks down at my hands clasped around the covers and then my collar where the pendant I always wore rests. He picks it up and rubs it like I usually did when I was nervous. It was hard to reconcile the person Conor put on in public to this gentler version of him in my bedroom. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I'll see you on the big screen soon enough."

"You'll only see me when I'm good enough," I give him a wry smile, calling him out. He drops the necklace, his hand curving around the back of my neck. For a split second I think he was maybe going to kiss me again but he kisses my forehead instead. I close my eyes, stretching the brief millisecond into an hour, or two, or five. I create some alternate timeline where I can do this all over, so that when Conor kisses my forehead it doesn't feel cheap with regret and stink of pity.

Fourteen Months Later: "It's nothing!" I pull my hand out of Malia's grip but she grabs my hand again.

"You call that a promise ring?" She asks skeptically of the diamond ring my boyfriend had gifted me yesterday evening.

"Promise ring?" Anth asks as he comes back with Conor who'd arrived late-a bad habit we'd all gotten used to. I try to stuff my hand back into my hoodie but Conor catches the light glinting off the diamond. I don't want to see his expression but I can't help but watch as it falls, a look of betrayal settling in. It wasn't my fault-not really. Conor and I kept up a false pretense of being friendly after the last time we saw each other but we unravelled quickly the longer we went without addressing it. How could we be the same when we suddenly carried so much baggage?

Our relationship suffered. Meanwhile, my boyfriend came back to LA on his knees begging for forgiveness. He had been stressed out about his shoots and he regretted our breakup as soon as he'd landed at JFK. So I kept my own regret from that night to myself and taken him back. A month in and we'd moved to New York for the year where he modelled and I miraculously landed a very small Broadway part. When we moved back, he'd given me the promise ring. That was last night. Malia messaged me this morning to tell me the gang was in town and we were meeting up again. I didn't realise Conor would be there too. Our conversations had fizzled out once he realised I’d moved to New York with my boyfriend.

"Y/N's settling down," Anth teases. "Y/B/N is making a wife out of you!"

"It's not an engagement ring guys!" I insist but it sounds false even to me. It was supposed to be one. But the look of horror on my face when my boyfriend got on one knee at the beach had him stuttering and then insisting it was just a promise ring. So I had accepted like the coward I was because I was too scared to be on my own again. Three years of our relationship and Anth was right-I was settling.

"That's a big ass diamond," Conor jokes but it has a sharp edge to it. "Good for you. So uh-I'm getting a drink."

When I track Conor down, away from the group, he's stony faced.

"It's been a while." I say, feeling like that first night we met when I didn't know how to talk to him.

"Yeah," his eyes flick down to my hand. "A lot's happened it seems."

"Con-" I try.

"I'm alright." Conor cuts me off.

"No. You're not." I call him out.

He clenches his jaw, glancing at me and then sighing. "I know we fucked up Y/N but why did we just stop talking? You're bloody engaged and why am I only finding out now? I've never even met your boyfriend!"

"It-I know-it's complicated. We...complicated things!"

"It shouldn't be complicated! It was just sex!" Conor shouts. "It wasn't complicated! I'm still your friend!"

"Right..." I look down and try to blink away the sudden tears. That all it was to him? "Right. Yeah of course...obviously-duh! It was! I just got...I was unsure! I didn't know what you thought about it. But I'm cool if you are. We're still friends?"

"Yes we're still fucking friends!" Conor is instantly a ball of sunshine as we slip off our past like an oversized, stuffy jacket. I grab his hand and intertwine our fingers, trying to toss out the confused emotions I was feeling. Conor squeezes my hand and I snap out of my thoughts to his smiling face and when he looks at me it feels like that night, I first saw him smiling under sodium lights. When we wouldn't even know this was how we would turn out. I wish I could go back then. Maybe tell Y/N to keep things simple.

As his mouth moves to tell me something, I can’t focus as my head buzzes with the words he'd said earlier. But maybe it's better this way, I think. I didn't want to end up hating Conor, or be hurt by him, when I cared for him this much. I would just have to see it his way, I decide. Just sex. Only friends. "-always your friend."

One Year Later: "Happy birthday!" I shout at Conor. He was in LA for his 24th and the party was massive. Like this-many-people-could-never-fit-in-my-house massive. "Look at you! You're so spoiled now!"

Conor crushes me against him-it had been a good six months since I'd seen him. I was travelling all over for a movie I'd gotten a small role in and barely had time to see friends let alone Conor. I missed his energy. And he was super famous now too. Somewhere between seeing him last on New Year's, breaking up with my boyfriend and moving out, auditioning like crazy, and finding a role-Conor had blown up online and my heart swelled every time I saw his ad or his music somewhere. Despite our messy mishap, I'd realigned myself to realise Conor and I could only ever be friends.

"I love your jumper," I say-the term an inside joke by now.

"This is actually a hoodie." Conor teases.

"Fuck I can never get the terminology right!" I laugh and wrap my arms around him again, his "hoodie" a snug fabric to rest my head on.

"Y/N." Conor says seriously so I look at him again, concerned. "Y/N I-I think I'm finally good!" Conor shouts in my ear and when I give him a questioning look he explains. "My music! I think it's finally good enough!"

"Oh Conor," I can't help but grab his face between my hands and squish his cheeks. "It was always good enough!"

Conor laughs causing his face between my hands to morph oddly so I let go. "You're not as much of a bitch as you used to be!"

"Watch your mouth!" I pull his hood over his head and continue tugging it over his face until he apologizes between laughter. When I let go, he takes off the hood and wraps his arm around my shoulder. We stay that way for the rest of the night as he introduces me to everyone we meet. They all assume I'm his girlfriend, joking with me that I should watch out. And I didn't blame them with the way Conor's hand was always on my shoulder or my waist, my hips, touching my hair, leaning in to say something in my ear. I crave his touch every time I don't have it and by the end of the night, I feel drunk on desire more than any of the cocktails I'd had. So when Conor looks at me with a question in his eyes at the end of the night, I don’t call him out. I simply take his hand and go back home with him. Just sex. Only friends. Always friends.

Eighteen Months Later: Since Conor's 24th, we'd made a routine. Unless one of us were in a relationship, every time Conor was in LA, he would stop by. We'd catch up on life and then end up in bed for however long he was here for.

"I'm only in LA for two week." He would say. Or "I go to New York next week." Or "I have a flight on Thursday for Dubai."

It wasn't permanent, he meant to remind me. It wasn't a relationship. It was just sex. And we were just friends. And this was just a bad habit. Or a good habit-was there such a thing? I always looked forward to it. It felt like we were each other's safe space, a secret the other held close to their chest. Minus the emotional attachments of course. It happened so often like this that I'd forgotten I ever wanted more. Being like this actually gave us more time to catch up on every detail of each other’s lives. We opened up about our insecurities, our goals, and all our shared memories. When Conor was staying longer he would work on things in the same room I was in or he would help me practice lines and we created small bubbles in time where everything was blissful between us as long as we were together. It was harder some days than others like when I wanted to kiss him in public or gush to my friends about him-but it was worth it to be close again.

Months Later: I had my first anxiety attack that morning. I didn't even realise I was having it until my knees hit the carpet and I tried to look up at the time.

I had a big audition that afternoon for a children's movie. My agent was so sure I was going to get it-she'd talked me up to every friend she had in high places and knew the company hiring so I knew I had it in the bag yet a movie on such a scale was terrifying. Conor had told me he was coming over after auditions to see how it went and I was oddly nervous to see him too-I'd gotten out of a short relationship so it had been a while since Conor and I got together. And then my mom called me worried about my brother who'd been making all the wrong choices in life as of of late which kept running through my mind. So when my agent called to tell me they wanted a Skype interview now, I knew that usually meant it was a courtesy interview and they didn't actually want me. I did the interview with a really bad connection, my anxiety heightening with every scene looking at their impassive expressions. As soon as it ended, I ignored my agen't phone call and suddenly found it hard to breath, my vision narrowing as everything looked off, and the room tilted around me. I fell to my knees and located my phone, calling the only person I knew who'd understand: Conor.

By the time he arrived, I had managed to calm down but I still couldn't take a deep breath nor could I talk in full sentences. Conor squeezed my hands and helped ground me until I could focus and then he'd gathered me in his arms so carefully, so lovingly, that it scared me enough to start crying. He mistook this for being sad about not getting the part and helped me to bed, setting up his laptop beside me. I didn't correct him, falling asleep as I felt exhausted, and awakening to a vibrating hum.

I don't open my eyes, anxiety clutching my chest as I remembered where I was and what had happened. But the humming beside me helped, the dread slowly unravelling it's hold on me. When I do open my eyes Conor's concentrated on the screen as he hums the same few lines again and again. And the tenderness with which I felt towards him sends me tipping into the panic zone so I get up and yank the covers off. I couldn't do this. We said we wouldn't.

"Hey you're up," Conor looks at me. "I'm gonna hum something does it sound like something you've already heard or is it-"

"You have to go." I say abruptly and he stops talking immediately. "I need to be alone Conor please go. Now."

He stays for a heartbeat before closing his screen and getting out of bed. His mouth opens to say something but he looks at me and closes it, bowing his head and moving out the door. I listen as he leaves and take a deep ragged breath. I felt wild, like a frantic ball of confused energy was buzzing within me like a pinball machine. Like a panic attack hangover and as soon as Conor goes I want him back. I make it so far to the front door when I retreat until my back hits the wall. What was I doing? But I craved the comfort of his touch and it urged me to call him back. I couldn’t though. He wasn’t my boyfriend, I couldn’t keep doing this. But the sudden sound of a knock at the door echos my pounding heartbeat.

I carefully open it to Conor, running his fingers through his hair. I barely register what he says; opening the door wider, just wanting him back in. He drops his bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him. In an instant, his hand finds my waist, our foreheads touch, our eyes locked. It felt like we were the center of a volcano of passion and desire, boiling as his hand tightens on my waist, bubbling as my hand slips around the the base of his neck, simmering and leaking as I close my eyes and he crashes his lips into mine.

I can't remember what happens next-not chronologically. We're bumping into walls and shedding the day, as well as our clothes, and as we ease into the sheets the volcano bursts with hot molten lava, destroying anything that was ever left of us before.

I must have nodded off again right after because I wake to Conor in bed facing me. Behind him, my window shows streaks of pinks in the sky as day goes down to dusk. Conor's eyes are watching me carefully, his expression unreadable as he watches me watch him. I trace the bridge of his nose to distract him but he continues staring, something budding in the way he looks at me. It was scaring me and I tell him so.

Yet Conor doesn’t take his eyes off of me, his thumb brushing my cheek and my breath catches as I realise why I was so scared. His eyes hold no trace of its usual playful spark. Instead they're unguarded and clear as day with what he was thinking. Shit. This was it. This was the end. We'd both fallen. Made this something important.

"When are you leaving LA?" I ask, almost begging him to reply with a deadline to our romance for some sort of normalcy. The only way this worked was when he put a time stamp for us to stop waking up in each other's arms. Even if it was one month or one week we would have the most fun as the end date was our safety net.

But when he shrugs and continues to gaze at me, my heart feels like it would burst from my chest. And it practically does as all the hopes I ever ignored of Conor and I as something more than friends, all the fantasies I ever had of Conor wanting more with me, the thoughts I suppressed before they could even manifest-shoving them into a dark corner of my mind-roll forward and flash before me. This was Conor-the first person I think I ever fell in love with. And I can admit it to myself now, looking at him-at us, like this. This was Conor-how could I have ever thought we could be anything but in love in the end? So I remove Conor's hand from my face and hold it to my chest, willingly showing him how much I was feeling in the moment. "I feel it now, can you feel it too?" Conor takes my other hand with his free hand and places it against his own palpitations. My own races faster; was this our demise?

"I feel it too." Conor answers slowly.

"But this is exactly what we said we wouldn't do." I remind him. What he said we wouldn't do. What we weren't.

"What was that exactly?" Conor asks me and his mouth flicks up in a slow smile as the playfulness returns in the blink of an eye. He's weightless as he rolls over me and brings his lips down in a kiss so tender, I never realised he had it in him. When he moves away, he rests his forehead against mine, his lips a hair's breadth away from my own. The look he gives me is a challenge, a dare like we would give when we were younger. His brown eyes looking into mine are daring me just one simple thing:

Call me out.

#conor maynard #conor maynard imagine #conor maynard imagines #youtube imagines #fic #lyrics #buttercream imagines #buttercreams #sarah close #jack maynard #joe sugg #i know this jumps all over the place but i really wanted to write something like this #hope its easy to understand #i spent so long on this #ahhhh #thatcherjoe

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