Heartstopper Michael Novels & Stories

He could be faster than he was being, but he was pushing her. So, she stopped. Laughter bubbled on her lips as she stopped and stared at her opponent, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. Between one breath and the next, she was on her back. Excitement leapt in her chest, her heart thrumming a rhythm that sounded like a constant roll of thunder. Michael settled above her, kicking her legs wide to nestle between them, his body pinning her to the ground. His hips lined with hers, letting his body lean over her and protect her from the rain. He was so close that her ragged breaths brushed her breasts against his chest with every inhale. Their eyes locked, something unspoken passing between them.

Michael pauses everything he's doing and leans forward, coming up onto his elbow. He let go of my cock and pulled the blankets back. He looked at my body and took a deep breath through his nose, trying to smell if I was still in heat. "You're right!" Michael said, sounding shocked. "Your skin's not red and I don't smell your heat… I thought... I thought you were doing this because of your heat." Michael said, looking down at me. I look over my shoulder at him. "No, I'm doing it because I want you. Because I love you!"

" The reporters ask making me grip my bottle well inorder to hear him clear and loud not knowing where next I would probably hit myself. " She was just the usual fling I hang out with inorder to hid the real bride to be." He said making me throw the bottle at the television but then, the picture of that same girl came out sharp even after been affected as someone tries to hold me but too bad, I was down and my sight was covered with pitch black. The last thing I felt before slumping was the pain of my left piece of heart... Michael's POV

Abigail's pov - As Jack finally exits the room, leaving us in a mix of embarrassment and amusement, Michael hugs me again. In Michael's arms, I find solace, passion, and a love that knows no boundaries. The interruption may have momentarily shifted our focus, but it has only served to deepen our appreciation for the unbreakable bond we share. With a gentle touch and a knowing smile, Michael pulls me closer, and we continue our journey, ready to face whatever comes our way, hand in hand.

Don’t wait up. [Get some rest, and don’t leave the door unlocked for me.] I didn’t reply. She had typed those words out of habit, not out of genuine concern for me. Seven hours had already passed since I sent the breakup message. The mystery of what she was doing became obvious the moment I looked through Instagram. Two hours earlier, Michael had posted a photo. The caption read: [My forever.] In the photo, two hands were tightly intertwined. In the background, the rumpled sheets of a hotel bed were faintly visible.

Michael says. “Michael” Aiden starts. “I won’t hurt her, I need her, she’s mine. I respect you all as her family and with her medical decisions too but I’m not letting her go, I love her, she’s my world” Michael says fiercely, he’s vulnerable though, to three people he’s only just met. This isn’t how Michael works and he feels out of control, he can’t lose Cassandra.

With a hoarse cry, I spurt, splashing into my beloved Elizabeth, and eyes squeezed closed, am vaguely aware that somewhere nearby, James and Charlotte are making similar sounds. Michael.... .... He hasn't.... As I emerge from a climax that leaves my head reeling I see, still sitting to one side, Michael's erection throbbing under the play of his own fingers as four hot and sweaty bodies collapse out of climax around him, Michael watches the show with the slight head-tilt of the connoisseur offered a fine wine. With a last grind of the hips, I knot my hand into Elizabeth's long, sweat-soaked hair, steering her towards the blond man's lap. "Open up. Michael's going to blow off in your mouth."

'Michael, I don't love you anymore. The thought blew apart in his head. He just stood there, frozen. Dana slipped her cold hand into his, all worried eyes and soft tremble. He tilted his head, studying her—same face shape as Claire. His thumb brushed her cheek, then something in him snapped. His hand shot to her throat. "Did you kill that lamb?" he asked, each word sharp enough to cut. Dana's face flushed as she clawed at his wrist. Mr. Chevron shouted, "Michael! Stop!"

"If you hurt him-" "I have no interest in Christopher," Michael said, sounding almost bored. "He's simply an obstacle. You are the point, Starr. You have always been the point." He opened the door, then paused again, glancing back at her with something that might, in another man, have looked almost like curiosity. "Does it hurt? Knowing that no matter how far you ran, no matter how successful you became, I am still the one thing you could never fully escape?"

he instructed, his tone shifting into something softer but commanding. I didn't hesitate. I lowered my body, bringing my head down into the small space between us until I could rest my cheek firmly against his leg. The warmth of his muscle seeped through his trousers, providing a strange anchor against my panic. Michael reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a clean, dark handkerchief. With a slow, deliberate movement of his large hand, he draped the cloth gently over my exposed face, blocking out the bright stadium lights and the terrifying view of the crowd.