so you're anthony j. crowley, long-time exile from heaven and recent exile from hell, and you've finally figured out that the mess of overwhelming and infuriating and intoxicating feelings you've been harboring for the only being in the universe you've ever been able to rely on might, whoopsies, be something a little bit like love. but not love the way you remember heaven loved you, or the way they told you god loved you (they lied), but love like the humans do it: messy, and awkward, and incongruously infinite, and so, so fragile.

and, well. okay, you think. this'll be horrible. embarrassing for both of us, probably. but i'll tell him. you've never been a coward, no matter what the other demons might say. screw your courage to the sticking place, or whatever. macbeth. aziraphale loved that one.

so you talk yourself into it, you gather every scrap of courage and honesty you've got left, and you say, all right, angel, i've got something to say, only aziraphale's got something to say, too, and--

aziraphale doesn't love you back.

or. he does, but he loves the ghost of the angel you used to be, not the person you've made yourself since. he loves you, but he loves you like god did--loves you good, and quiet, and dull. he loves you without your grief, or your anger, without even that first bite of the apple. he wants you like that again, he says. defanged, like the Antichrist's domesticated hellhound.

(you worked for hell for a long time, and for god for a long time before that. you're intimately familiar with what it is to offer someone everything they've ever wanted, and then to twist it, to mutilate it, into an unrecognizable hell of their own choosing. you're not sure why it surprises you anymore. you're not sure why you keep letting the surprises hurt.)

and so you do the thing you've done since the beginning, because you've never been able to stop yourself: you push. you push hard, and you grab him, and he's so angry and you kiss him and you don't think about it, don't think about it, this is the most important temptation of your life, the only one that's ever mattered--

and he forgives you.

so you leave. at least that way you can do it before he does. you've always been a step ahead and to the left; stupid to think this would ever be different. stupid to think he might choose you, with all of heaven and earth spread out in front of him. nothing lasts forever, not even the stars.

he told you that a long time ago.

How to turn a Killer into a Bunny – (FNaF Movie)William Afton x Male!Reader

Part 1 – Steve Raglan

Mike just lost his last job and M/n huffed in annoyance. Michael Schmidt was M/n’s best friend and he wanted to help him and his Sister Abby out as much as he could. He looked some things up and then decided to drag Michael to a Career Counselor.

There they sat. M/n decided to come with Mike and be his pillar. After all, he always was and Mike wasn’t all that social with new people.

“Are you sure this will help me ?”, Mike asked.

“You don’t have many options anymore, Mike. You need a job, you have a bad record of keeping jobs and with that, you need help and a stable job now. I am sure here you will get help, if there still is a chance for you.”, M/n assured.

“If ?”, Mike repeated.

“Mike, you didn’t study anything great, you are bad in keeping a job and you are always tired, also, you don’t work nights. These things mostly scare away people that want to give you a job.”

Mike lost hope right then and there. They waited for a while and Michael spaced out.

“Number 27.”, an elderly Lady called out.

M/n pulled Mike out of his thoughts and they listened to the woman. She said a number and that the name of the Career Counselor is Steve Raglan. They arrived at the door and knocked gently.

“Come in.”, a voice called from the other side.

M/n opened it and stepped inside, with Mike in tow. They saw a man sitting at his desk, back turned to them, file in hand.

“Good day, Mr. Raglan. My name is M/n L/n and I am here with Mike. I am his emotional support.”, M/n introduced himself.

“Good day to you too, Mr. L/n. My name is Steve Raglan and I will be finished with reading my file in a bit, then we can start.”, Steve replied kindly, not looking up.

M/n and Mike sat down and waited patiently for Mr. Raglan to finish reading everything.

After a bit, Steve began to hum and flipped back the pages, he then turned around and looked at Michael.

“What is your deal, Mike ? What are you, some kind of head case ?”, Steve Raglan asked.

M/n looked at Michael, knowing why Steve said all that. His latest job...was a bit bitter to say the least. He sat there and let the man finish, who looked back into the file.

“You beat up a man in broad daylight. In front of his child.”, the older man said.

Mike started to fumble with his words.

“It was a misunderstanding, I thought...”, he hesitated.

“He thought the Father was kidnapping the child. I was there that day and saw it too. It seemed like he snatched the child away, dragged him away and the boy had no clue what was happening. Mike acted wrong, but he meant well, Sir. I already gave him a scolding for it.”, M/n replied smoothly and softly.

Steve Raglan looked at M/n as he explained and nodded with a thoughtful hum. M/n felt like he had to add it, to Mike’s case.

“Many Security guards wouldn’t have paid attention to that kind of behavior at all. Mike did, but acted wrong. He shouldn’t have jumped at the man and started to beat him up, he already knows that. It won’t happen again.”

The older male looked at Mike and then again at M/n.

“Is he not going to say all that himself ?”, Steve asked.

“He would, but people love to interrupt him when he tries to explain himself and he needs a moment sometimes to find his words. He is socially very awkward, with new people, that’s why I am here. He can speak for himself, but he and I already experienced what happens when he talks. Everyone interrupts him and doesn’t listen.”, M/n answered.

Raglan looked at Mike and then nodded after a few seconds. Then he looked back into the file of Mike.

“Your Employment Record really looks bad, you know that ?”, Steve asked him.

“I...I know...”, he replied lowly.

“Tire Zone, Sales Associate, two months, terminated. Insubordination. Media World, Custodial Staff, one week. It’s like you’re not even trying here.”

Mike looked away, feeling very awkward and frustrated with himself.

“Yet you sit before me, asking for help.”, Steve Raglan then said, looking back at Mike.

He was dead silent, while M/n was already hoping, that Steve will have at least ONE job for Mike.

“I’m just trying to figure out, who you are, Mr. Michael Schm-....”, Raglan interrupted himself and looked closely into the file.

Then he took a closer look at Mike and M/n was unsure what he should think of that. Then Steve put down the file and got up, looking at the two males.

“Coffee ?”, he asked.

Mike was confused.

“No thank you, I am not a big fan of Coffee, too bitter.”, M/n kindly declined.

Steve nodded in acknowledgement that M/n didn’t want any, while he made his way to his Coffee Machine.

“W-what ?”, Mike asked confused about this sudden change of behavior.

“Eh, would you like some...some Coffee, I made some Coffee.”, Steve replied to Mike.

“No, thank you.”, Mike replied a bit confused.

Steve poured himself a cup and then held his back to the two males for a short while.

“I’m-I’m gonna be brutally honest with you here, Mike.”, Steve started and then slowly turned around taking his time to get back to his seat, “Given your Track Record, your options...are gonna be extremely limited.”

“I’ll take any job you got-“, Mike started.

“No, look, I get that part.”, Steve quickly interrupted, “Um, it’s just...you know, it’s not that easy.”

Mike was now really hopeless. M/n took a deep breath and used one last thing, in hopes to sway Mr. Raglan’s mind a little bit and perhaps change his mind. One last chance, that Mike CAN’T screw up.

“Can you really do nothing about this ? One last chance for him, Mr. Raglan ? This is really urgent and important, not just to the community and him, but also for other, more pressing matters. Not even a minimum wage job ?”, M/n asked with a bit of desperation in his voice.

“Pressing matters ? How pressing ?”, Steve asked a bit curious.

He leaned forward and looked at the two males.

“Usually I don’t like bringing it up, but Mike has a huge Family problem. You see, he has a little Sister, she is underage and can’t work herself yet, so Mike is all alone in this. Parents are dead and he only has an Aunt. She doesn’t want anything to do with him and wants full custody of his little Sister, to get more monthly income for herself. So she only wants to use her for more money, Mike needs a job, no matter how little the pay is, to keep his Sister around.”, M/n explained vaguely.

Raglan leaned back in his chair, processing the information. He looked at Mike, who didn���t make eye contact.

“That explains why he looks so tired. The bills, the family issues and on top of that finding a proper job. That’s a lot of stress for you to take, Michael.”, Raglan said with respect.

“Mike is just fine...”, Mike replied softly, but still didn’t make eye contact.

Raglan looked at M/n.

“And you ? Do you help them out ?”

“As much as I can, but even I can only do so much. I am currently paying his bills, so he can stay in his house. I can continue doing that, but paying anything else, is even for me a problem. I don’t get money for three people, I get money for ONE person in my job. I’m glad that it is enough to pay two different rents and get me fed over the month. I can’t pay the babysitter, nor their food.”, M/n answered.

“So Mike is also in debt to you.”, Steve concluded.

“I am doing this, because he is my friend. He doesn’t owe me anything.”

“But if he would, how much does he already owe you ? Roughly guessed.”

M/n was in deep thought and then looked at Raglan with certainty.

“Roughly guessed he owes me nearly $5 000 already, but because he is my friend, he owes me nothing. I am not a gold digger, nor greedy.”, M/n said with an assuring voice.

It was for Mike. Michael was always afraid that M/n will hold that over him one day, so M/n tries to make sure, to always let him know, that he is not like that. Steve whistled softly and looked at Mike.

“You really are in trouble. You are lucky to have such a friend, Mike.”, Steve said and then rubbed his stubbled chin in thought.

After a while he sighed and looked at Mike.

“I have a job for you. But a fair warning, it’s nothing big.”

“What is it ? I’ll really take anything I can.”, Mike replied, hope in his voice.

“It’s a Security gig. Full disclosure: It’s not great. High turnover. That’s what we call it in the Business, but you get to be your own Boss. Sort of.”, Steve explained.

M/n and Mike looked at him, listening intently.

“And you only have to worry about one thing: Keeping people out. And-and, you know, keep the place tidy.”

“That’s two things.”, Mike replied.

M/n elbowed him roughly, making him wince.

“Ow...”, Mike replied softly and looked at M/n.

“Count it as ONE thing then and shut up. He is trying to help, so shut your smartass mouth up, Mikey.”

Steve was slightly amused, then he looked at the two.

“You want the job or not ?”, he asked Mike.

“How is the pay ?”, he asked.

“Not great, but the hours are worse.”, Steve told Mike.

Mike was quiet for a moment and then sighed softly, leaning back in his chair.

“I can’t do nights...”, he muttered.

“Hm ? What was that ?”, Steve asked.

“I...I can’t do nights. The babysitter won’t watch my Sister at nights and I can’t leave her all alone at home either...”, Mike explained softly.

There was a moment of silence, a heave silence. M/n was in thoughts and then sighed loudly.

“Look, you talk with Max about this. If she agrees to watch your Sis, then she is there, if she won’t agree....I will watch her.”, M/n suggested.

Mike and Steve looked at M/n and Mike stared at his friend for a long time in shock.

“I can’t do that to you, M/n. You already pay our bills and help me where you can with jobs. You will lose your own job if you also watch Abby now.”

“We would find a solution, Mikey. We always did, did you forget ? But you NEED a job and if this is the only one, you can get, right now, you can’t be picky.”, M/n told Mike.

Michael looked at M/n and then at Steve. He was conflicted. M/n sighed and looked at the Career Counselor.

“Do you perhaps have a card with your number on it, Sir ? Maybe Mike will have a clear answer, after he sorted everything out with the Babysitter. He is definitely interested, but he needs to sort things out first, so he can arrange everything quickly.”

“Of course.”, Mr. Raglan replied quickly and gave M/n his card.

The man took it gently.

“Thank you, Sir. We will make sure to give you a call, as soon as everything is arranged, so Mike can tell you the situation. Is there anything else, we would need to know about the Security job ?”

“Hah...just don’t fall asleep on the job.”, Steve replied.

M/n smiled and then chuckled.

“He won’t sleep on the job, I promise you that. If he does and someone catches him doing so, I will kick his ass personally.”, M/n joked.

Steve chuckled and smiled.

“That is good to hear. Well then, it was nice seeing you and I hope everything works out.”, Mr. Raglan said and got up, stretching his hand out for a handshake.

The two males got up and Mike shook his hand first.

“Thank you, Mr. Raglan.”, he said and then left.

M/n shook the older man’s hand next, but didn’t leave yet. He looked if Mike was still near the door, which he wasn’t and then leaned closer to Steve, to whisper to him.

“Mr. Raglan, can I leave you my phone number ? I know Mike’s Aunt and she will most definitely show up here and get information about Mike and where he works, without having any rights to do so. She is the kind of person who loves to sabotage Mike’s life. I would just leave my number here, for you, to call me if she showed up and wanted something. This will then be used in court against her. She has no rights to snoop around in his life.”

Mr. Raglan looked at M/n and gave him a small smile.

“Of course. May I ask, what is her name, in case I need to recognize her ?”, Raglan replied.

“Her name is Jane Schmidt. She is a blonde too and her facial expression screams arrogance. She always acts high and mighty and makes a show out of everything. She is mostly seen with her lawyer, Doug. You will know it’s him, when you see him. An average sized man and has a very full figure. I am NOT kidding. But he is a kind man usually, just spaces out a lot.”

The Career Counselor nodded and wrote the descriptions down, while M/n wrote down his phone number on a separate piece of paper.

“Alright noted.”, Steve replied.

“And here is my number.”, M/n said and gave Raglan the piece of paper.

He took it.

“So if she shows up here or calls us and asks about Michael Schmidt, I should call and notify you and not give out any information to her, right ?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Okay. I will notify the rest of the staff, so no one will let anything slip out.”

“Thank you, Mr. Raglan.”

“Steve and you are welcome.”

M/n smiled and nodded. Steve couldn’t help but feel attracted to this man. But he knew that he couldn’t. He may be Bi, but this boy seemed to be straight.

Then Mike came back and looked into the office.

“M/n, are we leaving or what ? We still have to go shopping and I have to get home to Abby.”

“In a minute Mikey. Give me just one more minute. I am wrapping something up with Mr. Raglan here.”, M/n replied kindly.

“Okay. See you at the car then.”

“See ya.”

With that Mike left and M/n looked at Mr. Raglan again.

“If there is anything else, just call me too, yes ? If Mike did something stupid that you heard of, tell me and I will sort everything out, if something happened on his job or under his watch, I am always there to be contacted. Most of the times it is a misunderstanding or his Aunt was trying to sabotage him, that happened at the Media World job. She arrived, made a scene and then he got fired. She has her connections.”

The Career Counselor nodded.

“Of course, noted.”

M/n nodded to and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, Steve. This means a lot.”

Then he left the room and Steve slumped back down in his chair. His heart was racing, he felt warm and he was a bit excited.

‘Shit...not on the fucking job...’, Steve groaned in his head.

M/n did it to him, BAD.

Masterlist

please don’t be - ch. 4

table of contents go your way

“It’s the south of France,” Jamie says. “The fuck am I supposed to do there?”

“Brooks is throwing a wicked party,” Colin says. “Michael’s been begging me to go, so we’re going.”

“You have to go, lad,” Jack adds. “Maybe then you’ll stop being a broody prick.”

Jamie doesn’t know what to say. It’s off season, Colin’s in Manchester, and somehow he and Jack have taken it upon themselves to ruin Jamie’s self-loathing.

Because he loathes himself right now.

Yeah, football’s great as-fucking-ever, but fucking off season is making it shit in his head.

He hadn’t expected to feel anything, not when he’s usually so empty in his mind.

But you… you were a giver. And it was a problem because Jamie, always so love-starved, took everything you had. At some point something changed though, because he felt guilty always fucking taking and never giving.

He couldn’t stand the way you looked at him, as though he hung the moon, and it felt like a deception even though you knew it was temporary.

That’s what he hated the most, the fact that you always, always knew, and you still stayed.

It’s a problem. It’s summer, and he’s on his way to the south of France.

—

Jamie is losing his mind. Is this how you felt that one afternoon? He wishes he would have been kinder. He can’t really smile, he misses Richmond and he misses Roy (the prick) and Keeley (what an angel). He misses you most of all, but he won’t insult you by trying to get you back.

He keeps seeing your face everywhere he goes, but it’s impossible because you’re somewhere in London.

It’s far too quiet inside his own body, and he misses the buzz that came with being near you. The world turned electric when you entered a room.

The silence echoes louder as the night progresses. 

Jamie steps outside for air and sees Jude snogging someone under a tree. He shakes his head with a chuckle as they break apart.

There’s a crackle, one only he can feel, and the world goes red.

Jamie ducks behind a pillar as Jude passes him, presumably to grab something from inside and before Jamie can think of what to do, he’s watching you press your palms over your eyes.

“I promise this is the only time I’ll ever ask you for something,” you tell him, head in your hands.

Jamie can barely speak. He’s grinning like an idiot, completely enamored with the way you can’t bear to burden him. 

You’re not a burden, and he can’t say the exact words but he’ll try to show you.

“You think too much,” he says.

“I know,” you groan. “I just know this is not at all what we talked about.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

Your head shoots up. “Sweet? That’s what you’re going with? This is awful. I’m only asking because I have to. I promise, I wouldn’t if I didn’t.”

Jamie’s still grinning as he says, “I’ll be there. I’m great with nieces, just ask Roy. Bring her a birthday present and everything.”

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly. “My whole family will be there.”

Jamie shrugs. “Not a problem, love.”

He would have promised you the whole world just to see your eyes light up like they did then. Would have given up his god-given footy talent just to feel your arms around him like they were in that moment.

So Bellingham’s inside and you’re alone, so in a haze of poorly-exchanged pleasantries, Jamie says, “I fucking love you, and I’m fucking stupid for leaving.”

Once again, he watches your face shutter through a million expressions at once as you carefully consider and catalogue his words.

Instead of your face lighting up like he hoped it would, it shatters. Just for a moment, but it breaks into a thousand pieces.

In between one moment and the next, he sees you pull yourself together.

It’s fast, too fast for it to be real, but he’s not going to say anything about it as long as you’re his again, you have to be his again. 

There’s no other way this can go.

table of contents

like on a couple levels, in terms of the metatron having bad intentions, the coffee theory has something to it. BUT NOT BECAUSE AZIRAPHALE'S BEEN POISONED/MAGICALLY MANIPULATED/REPLACED, OKAY. here's the breakdown of the major points imo:

aziraphale doesn't drink coffee, why would the metatron bring him coffee & why would he drink it?

because the metatron doesn't fucking care what aziraphale wants or likes. it's just that simple. he came to the bookshop to make an offer, and to get that offer accepted. he brought the coffee to prove that he means well, that his intentions are good, and that aziraphale is worth a gesture of generosity from the voice of the almighty. he wants aziraphale to feel appreciated, but he doesn't give a shit enough to bring something aziraphale would actually like, and he didn't stop badgering until aziraphale accepted it in a way that could not be taken back, i.e. drinking it. if aziraphale has taken a sip, then he's already accepted that he will hear the metatron out. it's pure lip service and manipulation.

2. the time jump between aziraphale very clearly saying "i don't want to go back to heaven" and "tell your friend the good news". why would the metatron be so sure he changed his mind in that time?

my theory is that the metatron's proposal to reinstate crowley as an angel was double-sided, and we only saw the first half of the proposal. my theory is that the offer was actually "we can bring crowley back as an angel with you, or we'll have to scrub him from the book of life completely so we don't risk you pulling a gabriel." i mean, it makes sense, right? heaven just lost their number one guy to his attachment to a demon he's spent 6000 years arguing with, why chance it a second time? the metatron wants aziraphale to accept that offer because heaven is in shambles, and he knows it won't be accepted if things are left as they currently are on earth, with aziraphale able to simply say "nah" and come back home anytime. an ultimatum like that is the only way to fly.

it's also a no-loss scenario, because you can bank on aziraphale, as someone who cares about crowley and who wouldn't ever want to threaten him into doing something he doesn't want to do, only wanting to tell crowley the first part. he wasn't there for the hellfire, remember? he might not even think it's a genuine threat, not worth repeating, especially if he's confident that crowley would choose to go with him rather than be separated. my theory is that aziraphale was trying to protect crowley by going balls-to-the-wall company man, and that his "i need you" was especially motivated by terror at the thought of losing him, terror that became more and more real as he started to lose confidence in his ability to convince crowley to be an angel again. (as a lot of folks who grew up in very manipulative households could tell you, me included, you can teach yourself to dismiss the severity of a threat from someone you believe loves you while also emotionally reacting to it.)

3. that smile in the elevator during the credits was NOT an aziraphale smile like ANY of the smiles we've seen from him before. not painfully polite, not genuinely joyful, in fact it was downright sinister.

i think that if we go with the theory that the metatron threatened crowley to get aziraphale to agree to come back, aziraphale won't let that shit stand. especially seeing how badly crowley reacted to the idea of becoming an angel again? to aziraphale going back? especially after that kiss?

if he's going up there to make heaven worthy of crowley, to make things better, then that means doing something about the people like uriel who relish the thought of turning innocent people into pillars of salt. the people like michael who hypocritically consort with demons and place their position on the corporate ladder above all else. the people like the metatron, who have access to the book of life and full willingness to use it. i think that's a smile that means aziraphale is about to start a war of his own, and make everything up to crowley as best he can by ensuring that crowley will never have to fear for his own existence again.

(of course, whether that's what crowley would want is something we already know the answer to. crowley wants aziraphale. danger and all.)

Birthdays (2) Masterlist

part one

All My Friends (ao3) - Headgehog_Louis007 michael/calum, luke/ashton G, 2k

Summary: Having an anxiety attack on your birthday is less than ideal, but it helps when your boyfriend knows what to do, and spending the day with your favorite people makes you feel better.

Birthday Boy - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias))

Summary: The Craft Club crew surprise Ashton on tour for his birthday.

Crush (ao3) - Calumthoodshands (tndart) luke/calum T, 3k

Summary: It's Calum's birthday, and Luke agreed to come - against his better judgement. Because how the hell is he going to talk to the guy he's had a crush on for over half a year now?

Drunken Nights & Trying Again (ao3) - iamfrenchy michael/calum T, 2k

Summary: After a drunken night, Michael and Calum wake up next to each other, naked and confused. Things get awkward but it isn't that bad and they try to ignore it but then Calum can't stop thinking about Mikey and he wants more.

Or the one where they are idiots who actually like each other a whole lot

hang up the telephone (and just be here with me) (ao3) - bellawritess luke/ashton T, 1k

Summary: The rain wakes Ashton at seven in the morning, but the phone buzzing on the bedside table is what rouses Luke.

Happy Birthday, Kitten (ao3) - radioactive_pizza michael/luke N/R, 2k

Summary: // the one where it's Michaels birthday and Luke gives him a special present.

i can feel it (ao3) - ideclifford luke/ashton N/R, 967

Summary: "Luke, untie me," Ashton commanded, pulling at the rope binding his hands to the headboard of the bed. He had awoken mere minutes ago, and when he had attempted to stretch he had discovered that he couldn't move.

"But Daddy," Luke whined, kneeling on the side of the bed, "it's your birthday, we gotta do something special."

it's unlike anything when you're lovin' me (ao3) - orphan_account ot4 E, 2k

Summary: On a normal day, Calum would have ignored Michael’s pleas and continued with his relentless teasing which eventually would have led to Ashton punishing his ass for torturing Michael like that, but since today it’s Michael’s birthday Calum knows he has got to be nice.

I Would Hate You If I Could (ao3) - CliffordAffliction luke/ashton, michael/luke, michael/calum E, 23k

Summary: Luke’s been in love with his best friend Ashton for years, to the point where it’s driving him insane how much he wants to be with him. Out of the blue Ashton starts to treat him like they aren’t even friends anymore and Luke doesn’t know how to handle it so he tries desperately to get his mind off of the boy…and fails miserably.

Magic Mike (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance michael/everyone E, 3k

Summary: Ashton Irwin is turning 21 and wanted a grand party. To his surprise, his idea of 'Grand Party' does not coincide with what his friends think a 'Grand Party' means. His night may turn out to be better than he had imagine.

Not Alone (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) michael/luke G, 2k

Summary: Michael spends his birthday by himself. Then a surprise shows up at his doorstep.

Perpetuity (ao3) - lourrygum michael/luke T, 1k

Summary: Michael's birthday is soon. Luke's acting weirder than usual.

rebuild it like a vase, or a shattered crown (ao3) - hideforalifetime michael/luke G, 2k

Summary: ‘Happy Birthday, @mikeclifford. You’ve been a constant pillar of support and a source of comedy through some of the most confusing years in my life. We had some great times together, and here’s hoping you’re out there somewhere, thinking of me as you read this. Have a good one, mate.

Cheers.’

Michael and Luke broke up in college, then went their separate ways. Luke went on to become an insanely successful musician, and Michael's still where Luke left him, barely scraping his rent together.

A birthday fic for our lovely lovely Michael.

To Get Me Turning Good, You Gotta Check Under The Hood Babe (ao3) - senioritastyles michael/calum E, 1k

Summary: Michael giggles as Calum takes his hand and kisses his lips, stumbling towards the exit of the dingy bar they're in. It's Michael's birthday, his twenty-first to be exact, and he's just had his first few legal beers in America. He's just on the right side of tipsy and feeling good as Calum drags him away from the overly loud music and the smell of hot wings.

"You know, baby, you never told me what you wanted for birthday." Calum mumbles, lips tickling Michael's when he doesn't bother pulling away entirely.

Michael hums and nudges his lips against Calum's for more, humming again when Calum obliges and kisses him. "I didn't really want anything."

or: It's Michael's birthday and he wants Calum.

Twenty-eight (ao3) - no_clue_who luke/ashton G, 1k

Summary: Ashton looked up at the hotel ceiling, he didn’t remember falling asleep in this hotel room. There’s a small strip of light on the ceiling, probably from the window that he didn’t pull the curtain closed tight enough.

He’s twenty-eight, the big two eight.

It feels like yesterday he was turning twenty on a tour bus across the US, sitting in his bunk and wishing to be a teen for longer than the few hours he had left. But now he’s twenty-eight, healthy and happy. His husband is somewhere in the bed with him, their dogs are with friends at home and he’s happy.

or how not to celebrate a birthday

High School Sweetheart

Part two

Previous - Next

No trigger warnings provided.

Sexual content.

Female reader.

You were zoned out in the passenger seat of Michael’s car, imagining the two of you having the most nasty, disrespectful sex you could possibly think of. You jumped, feeling Michael’s hand on your thigh. “You okay over there? You’re going cross eyed.” You smacked his arm, glaring at him. “Some things are better left unsaid you asshole.” “What? It’s cute.” He smiled, keeping his eyes on the road. “What’re you thinking about? You seemed really into it.” “Nothing…” “Oh really? You’re pretty flustered right now I don’t think nothi—“ “Shut up, Michael!”

You’ve been with Michael for five years and telling him that you thought about him railing you every five minutes never got any easier. It was embarrassing. Michael confidently talked about what he thought about with you all the time. Usually he would just blurt things out. Fault of his ADHD. “Dude… So earlier—“ “Dude.” You mocked him, smiling out the window. “Shut up, damn… I don’t even wanna say it anymore…” He pouted. “Aww did I upset the baby?” You pinched his cheek, quickly pulling away as he turned his head to nip your hand. He smiled, “you’re an asshole, but I love you.” He sighed, turning into Carrie’s driveway where Billy’s truck was parked.

Michael got out and rushed to the other side before you could open the door yourself, opening it for you. “M’lady.” He bowed, putting his hand out for you to grab. You giggled, taking ahold of his hand as he helped you out. You looked up at her house in awe. It was massive, all white, with giant pillars holding up the ceiling. “Someone has a rich daddy…” Michael mumbled, walking up to the door with his arm wrapped around your waist. Michael wore his same outfit from earlier, but you had changed into a small dress and pumps after Michael ran by your house.

Michael banged on the door, the door almost immediately opening. Jason stood behind the door, awkwardly waving. Out of the group you liked Jason best. He was the sweetest one, only wanting to make people happy. “Hi Jason, How are you doing?” You smiled as he let the two of you in. “I-I’m good… We just got done setting up all the tables outside.” He looked down at the ground. He always had a hard time maintaining eye contact, and interacting with people. He tried his best though to fit in. Michael wrapped an arm around Jason, shaking him a bit as he squeezed him. “We’re gonna have a good time tonight, alright? You let me know if anyone messes with you.” He rubbed his knuckles into Jason’s head. Jason smiled, nodding. “Jason! Where the hell are you?!” Billy screamed from across the house. “I-I gotta go…” Jason scurried off. Michael sighed, “Jason’s autistic… I’m not sure if I ever told you that. We all look out for him, and I hope you will too. There’s usually no issues as long as us boys are around, but if you see him wondering off and encountering some problems, you let us know, alright?” Michael looked down at you with a very stern look. You nodded, smiling solemnly, “Jason’s a sweet boy, I’ve always looked out for him…” “Exactly. No one hurts my boy.”

——————————————————————————

“Is this what you were imagining earlier, baby? Me treating you like an object… Using you like a little fuck toy?” The two of you had snuck off upstairs into one of the vacant guest bedrooms. More like one of you, Michael, drug you up here. Michael grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugging your head back, exposing your neck. Michael hummed softly into your ear, licking your lobe. He groaned as he thrusted into you, smacking your ass. He shoved you back into the mattress to hold your hips, squeezing your thickness. Cute little giggles left him as he destroyed you, leaving you a drooling, whimpering mess.

Michael flipped you over, slipping himself back into you. His hand clasped around your neck, smiling down at you when he saw how defeated you looked. “M-Michael we should really get back before—“ “Shh, baby… They already know with your loud mouth.” Your face darkened, feeling incredibly embarrassed. Michael slammed into you, bringing out a loud breathy moan from inside of you. “You sound so pretty, baby…” He whispered, his hand squeezing around your throat. You whine softly, bucking your hips. “How could you possibly want more? I’m doing my best here…” He mumbled, grabbing onto your hips to thrust into you better. “Mi—chael” You stuttered with each of his thrusts. You bounced against him, hands clenching the bed covers.

“Michael! We need you down here!” Billy yelled from downstairs. “Goddamnit…” Michael cursed, quickening his pace. If he didn’t finish, he was going to get you to, that’s for sure. He never left you unsatisfied. He leaned down to your ear, his fingers rubbing against your clit. “Cum for me, baby… Don’t want to keep them waiting…” He purred. You whined, turning to face him. You grabbed his face, kissing him. Michael closed his eyes, his hand caressing your cheek. Your hips bucked against his fingers, moaning into the kiss.

Michael successfully got you to cum, and even got himself to as well. Win, win. However, you were a complete mess. Your mascara was bleeding down your cheeks, and your lipstick was smeared. “Michael… I didn’t bring a bag to fix this…” You sigh, staring at yourself in the mirror. Michael zoned out staring at you, finding it hot how he managed to create such a masterpiece. “Michael!” You hit him, knocking him out of it. “What?” “I’m not going out there looking like this!” You hissed, “Go find some of Carrie’s makeup for me…” “Why me?!” “Because this is your fault!” “Fine… I’ll be right back…” He sighed, walking off. You roll your eyes, rubbing some soap in your hands until it got bubbly, washing off your face until it was bare.

Michael came back with an assortment of items. Most of it wasn’t even makeup. “God… Um… Okay, yeah… Thank you…” You grabbed the mascara from his hands, and a peachy colored lipstick. You would’ve used her concealer to hide some of the spots you wanted to cover, but you guys weren’t the same skin tone. “You look beautiful, just go without makeup…” Michael assured. “It’s a party, I can’t go without!” You retorted, shoving the items back into his hands to take back. “Jeez, okay Miss grumpy pants.” He mumbled, walking back to Carrie’s bedroom.

——————————————————————————

You and Carrie developed a nice conversation together as the boys set up everything for her. “I had Michael sneak into your room to borrow some of your makeup, I hope that’s okay…” “Oh no worries! I totally get it. I just pray you guys didn’t do it in my parents bedroom.” “We made sure it was vacant… Nothing was in the drawers so.” “Oh, perfect. Thank god… Im pretty sure I locked their room just in case, so there was no getting in there anyways. I’m glad you came! I don’t have to hang by myself. These boys don’t do anything but make fun of me…” She sighed. “We love you though.” Freddy smiled, patting Carrie’s back as he drank from his cup. Freddy wore his usual red and green striped sweater. “Oh whatever.” Carrie rolled her eyes. You giggled, looking around the yard for Michael. “Where did Michael go?” You asked. “Oh he went to get the kegs.” Freddy replied. “Oh… Uh, when will people start showing up?” You felt weird without Michael around, you never hung around his friend’s without him. “Probably in the next five minutes.” Billy came walking over, blatantly drunk already. He giggled, ruffling Carrie’s hair. “Billy you asshole!” Carrie cried out, getting up and running after him.

Freddy took a seat in front of you, looking rather serious. He leaned in close to you, “Don’t worry about Michael tonight alright? We’ll try to keep him under control to the best of our ability. I don’t think anyone wants to see a dead body tonight.” He sighed. You were taken back by his words, not expecting him to bring it up. “Um… Yeah, thank you. He’s um… Not exactly remorseful over last night.” “Yeah we’ve noticed over the past few fights he’s been in. I don’t think he’s fighting for you anymore. It’s something… Darker.” You already knew, but it still brought up fear inside of you. “Why do you think this is happening..?” You whispered. “It’s always been in him. He killed his sister when he was just six years old but attorneys covered it up and sent him right back home.” What..? You thought his sister was alive. “She’s… She’s dead? Michael told me she—“ “Yeah, he tells everyone that she’s at her “boyfriend’s house” and she’s in college so she’s never home… I mean, anythings better than telling people you killed your sister.” Freddy shrugged. “I guess he doesn’t thrust me like I thought he did…” You look down, saddened by the news you received. “It���s not that he doesn’t trust you, he’s just scared of what you’ll think of him. Though after last night, I’m not sure if that’s true anymore. He’s acting it off like it was the usual.” Freddy sighed, rubbing his head. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We’re going to try our best to help him. You just need to be as supportive as you can. He needs it.” Freddy placed his hand on top of yours, “I don’t know what would happen if he didn’t have you, Y/N. A lot more people would be gone from this world, that’s for sure.” He rubbed your hand with his thumb, and stood up. “I gotta go let people in since these dumb fucks are too busy.” Freddy sighed, leaving you alone at the table. You stared at your hands, wondering if Michael had lied to you about anything else.

“The beer is here!” Michael shouted, holding two giant kegs in each arm, “Carrie! Where do you want these at?” “Oh! Just set them over there on that table.” Carrie pointed to the table next to you. Michael walked over, setting them down. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, kissing your neck gently from behind you. “What’s wrong, baby? Why the sad face?” He continued to kiss your face, rocking you back and forth. “I’m okay. Just thinking.” You smile, turning your head to peck his cheek. “Want something to drink? There’s about everything you could think of.” Michael massaged your shoulders. “No… I’m not going to drink tonight. Someone has to drive us home.” You giggled softly, placing your hands atop his. “You sure? I can play the sober one tonight if you wanna—“ “No… Every time I get drunk I get super emotional and horny. No one wants to see that.” “I do…” Michael mumbled.

The place filled up quickly until there was barely any room to walk around. You stayed at the same table with Michael and his friends. Jason held his cup close, keeping his head down. Freddy had a look of concern on his face as he eyed down everyone at the party, and Billy just sat there flirting with every girl that walked by. Michael had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, drinking the pack of Modelo he brought for himself. He had already gone through four.

“Michael, slow down…” You whisper in his ear, rubbing his back. “I’m fine, baby. I can handle myself.” He kissed the top of your head. “Last time you got drunk you killed someone…” You mumbled. “It won’t happen again.” Michael replied, staring off at everyone in the yard. Somehow you knew he was lying. Freddy knew it too, giving you his same concerned look he’s had for the past hour. Michael’s eyes were dark, looking for his next victim. You saw how his jaw clenched, his teeth grinding in anticipation.

“Michael… Let’s go inside. We can play beer pong.” You nudged his side gently, standing up. “I wanna stay out here.” He replied, not moving from his spot. You sighed, knowing you cant force him. You sat back down, looking over at Freddy. Freddy had his eyes on Michael, wondering what he was going to have to do in a few minutes when Michael decided on his victim. “I’m gonna go get more to drink…” Jason stood up from his seat, walking over to the sodas. Jason never drank, he respected his mother too much, and that was totally fine. Nothing wrong with that. However others thought differently.

You ran your fingers through Michael’s hair, leaning into him. Everyone had quieted down after some bickering came up. Everyone crowded around the area where the sodas were. “Oh fuck…” Freddy hissed, jumping out from his chair, running into the crowd. Michael’s head whipped around, realizing Jason was in trouble. He took off after Freddy, squeezing himself in between people, and shoving some. You and Billy looked at each other in confusion, standing up to see what was going on. Three boys surrounded Jason, one too close for comfort. “What the fuck are you gonna do, freak?” He smiled, pushing himself into Jason.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Michael pushed himself up front, walking over to the situation. The boy pressed up against Jason backed away to look up at Michael properly. “This retard bumped into me!” The boy referred to Jason. “Okay? Why’s that such a big deal? I think your ego is a bit too big for that frail body of yours.” Michael chuckled, pulling Jason behind him. “Frail? Who do you think you’re talking to?” He glared, rolling up his sleeves. Your eyes widened, running into the crowd, pushing people out of the way, whispering quiet apologies as you moseyed on through. “Michael! Don’t do this…” You whispered with pleading eyes. The boy’s eyes lit up when he saw you, a big smile growing on his face. His eyes flicked back to Michael, “this your girl? I feel bad… She’d look a lot better with me.” He snickered.

“Hey man I don’t think you wanna say that… That’s Michael Myers…” One of his friends whispered to him. “So what? All of those stories are bullshit.” He replied. Michael looked like he was about to rip his head off. “Baby, let’s go before you hurt someone…” You grabbed Michael’s arm, trying to pull him away from the area. “What’s this pretty thing doing? You trying to save me? I can handle myself.” He smiled, rubbing his hands together as he eyed you up and down. Michael was fuming at this point. You glared at him, “you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” You spat, squeezing Michael’s arm. Billy and Freddy forced themselves out of the crowd, pulling Michael out of the circle. Michael didn’t fight back, and went with them, knowing he would damn well kill that boy if they didn’t.

You watched Michael get pulled away, saddened. You didn’t understand why there were people like this who caused fights. You jumped a bit when you felt a hand slither around your waist, getting pulled close to the boy’s body. “My name’s Travis… You must be Y/N huh? I’m sorry your little boy toy over there has anger issues… Poor thing. Have to treat him like a child.” He laughed. You shoved him off of you, grimacing at the feeling he left on you. You heard people gasp, and suddenly Michael burst through the wall of people, grabbing onto Travis’ shoulders, forcefully pinning him to the ground. “Let us through!” You heard Freddy’s voice scream from behind the wall. Your eyes widened, feeling yourself lock up at the sight of Michael’s fist colliding with the boy’s face.

Michael was straddling his torso, pummeling his face. All you could see was blood. Your vision was blurry with the color red. You felt like you couldn’t move a muscle, your entire body in shock. Everyone was rooting for Michael, chanting. However, once they realized Travis was no longer moving they quickly shut up. Everything was growing dark. You saw bright white sparks around you, the black spots clouding your vision. You fell backwards, and everything went black.

——————————————————————————

Your eyes fluttered open, wincing at the bright lights above you. “Hey! She’s awake!” You heard Billy’s voice shout. Someone grabbed your hand, squeezing it. You looked at your side to see Jason smiling at you, holding your hand. You smiled back, quickly met by a piercing pain in your head. You groaned, grabbing your head. “Man! Get her some more morphine, doc!” Billy continued to ramble on about how shitty the doctor was. Where were you? The hospital? Why were you here? “Hey… You feeling alright?” Freddy looked down at you, brushing your hair out of your face. “Where am I?” You grunt, lowering your hands. “The hospital… You passed out and hit your head pretty hard last night.” “Last night? How long have I been out?!” You gasp. “Not sure, I wasn’t counting…” Freddy rubbed the back of his head. You felt an instant ease as one of the nurses gave you more morphine. “Thank you…” You mumbled. “Thank god someone around here does their job…” Billy sat down next to Jason, continuing to complain.

“Where’s Michael..?” You expected him to be here. After all you were in the hospital… Your boyfriend should be here, not his friends. “He’s uh… He’s in custody.” Freddy chuckled. Your eyes widened, “what?” Your voice dropped low. “We haven’t heard the status on that kid Travis yet but he wasn’t moving after Michael had his way with him… Me and Billy tried so hard to get in there and stop it but people kept us out. Apparently a neighbor called the police for a noise complaint… Michael got taken in. He’s in a lot of trouble, Y/N… We’re not sure if he’s coming out of this.” Freddy explained. You felt yourself tear up. Michael just turned twenty. He wasn’t a minor. He couldn’t just slip out of the cop’s grasp. If that kid is dead, Michael may never see the light of day again.

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 5 of ?)

gif by my literal angel @michaelgreys who keeps blessing us like holy fuck

a/n: all i can say is that this is the hottest one yet. as always, my girl @stxdyblr-2k did an amazing job so i hope you all enjoy :) and i'm still working on requests, tysm for all of them!!

love, abi xxx

read part one two three four | my masterlist

tagging: @datewithgianni, @mayaslifeinabox, @deepdonutkid, @springsoulofengland

prompt: john just can't help himself when he sees you with someone else.

warnings: nsfw!!! smut, fluff, angst, light praise kink, john fucking adores you and spends a good amount of time with his head between your legs (yes i know!!!!!)

John had spotted you from across the London nightclub, his table tucked into the balcony area, perfectly positioned to survey the entire club. It'd been over a month since he laid eyes on you last. Sometimes, he wondered if it was possible for you to only get more beautiful every time he saw you. He wasn't surprised, as he'd been warned of your presence by Tommy, but he was unable to stop himself from staring at you, hair neatly styled, scarlet velvet dress clinging to every curve, red lipstick emphasizing your lips, a light haze of pink pressed into your cheekbones, lash-line expertly darkened with kohl. You were dancing with one of Isaiah's friends; the young man was tall and muscular -- a blinder foot soldier, John concluded, draining his glass of whiskey, flagging the waiter down for another.

The young lad was smiling down at you. John took a swig from his drink bitterly, the man obviously head over heels, his eyes bright, excitedly glancing from your lips to your figure. John could feel himself cringe; the younger man had all the subtlety and strategy of a malnourished dog. Then again, who could blame the lad? You were an absolute vision, twirling and giggling, off your face on something Michael had brought. John couldn't help but watch, wishing it was him who had caught your attention tonight, wanting to feel your breath fan across his neck, pulling away while you giggled at his blushing arousal; him whisking you to dark corners to steal a moment of quiet.

He'd tried to get over you but he couldn't. He'd been travelling a lot lately, business in Liverpool, Edinburgh and Belfast; yet in every woman who smiled at him, he found himself searching for you in their eyes, their smiles, their laugh. They were all gorgeous, but his heart simply wasn't in it.

Tonight had started off alright, normal Peaky activity. They'd seized the club only a few hours ago, gaining vital territory in London, bagging their place in the opiate trade and a successful business prospect in one fell swoop. By all accounts, John should’ve been happy, but he'd been too lost in his own mind lately to properly take in the consequences of those sleepless nights with the accounting books, all the hours practicing shooting and boxing, all the endless driving, the meetings, the lingering stench of death which clung to his family. Try as he might, he couldn't enjoy himself. His night got worse the second he spotted you; a yearning for you suddenly flooding his veins. It was easy to get on with life when you were hundreds of miles from him, but when you were a flight of stairs away? He knew the club had countless dark passages to hide away with you, multiple cloak rooms with thick brick walls to take you against: he had to stop his mind running wild. He couldn't. That had to be the last time. You were in his past, you had to stay there. But as he watched you dance with the blinder, he could feel the familiar burn of jealousy swell deep within him. The lad was far too close to you for his comfort, practically grazing his hips to yours. John roughly rubbed his jaw at the sight, silently seething to himself in the shadows.

Thomas studied his brother's body language, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, not understanding the fuss around you. Sure, you were pretty enough; you were bright, apparently funny, but you had never caught his attention really. He observed how John's eyes followed your every move, every sway of your hips closely watched as he held his breath, losing himself to you. He was glad he'd prompted Michael to invite you; this was the most attentive he'd seen John in a month. It was no coincidence that he'd dragged you away from Birmingham, from the watching eyes of the city locals, the wagging tongues in the assembly lines, far from Ada. Michael had admitted to Thomas that it was easy to persuade you, promising you a lift in his new car and a night out as Ada had plans with a gentleman. A night of dancing with your favourite lads and an all expenses paid trip to London? You couldn't resist.

John's jaw had tensed and squared, the man murmuring something against your neck causing you to giggle and grasp his collar. Thomas could tell his brother was practically bristling with jealousy. If looks could kill, the young man clinging to your hips would be long dead from the glare unleashed on him by the tallest Shelby brother.

"You gonna sit there useless or are you gonna fucking do something about it, eh?" Tommy inquired, nudging him with his shoulder.

"I can't."

"No one will know." Thomas pointed out, raising a brow, "The Blinders will say fuck all if they see owt. They keep quiet when it's about us Shelby brothers, yeah?"

John glanced at him, eyes slightly widened, confusion furrowing his brows. "You've changed your fuckin' tune."

"Sometimes, it's good to have secrets. What Ada doesn't know about the events of tonight won't hurt her."

"We don't do secrets. We're meant to trust each other." John objected. "We're a family."

"Nothing will change, John. I'll fix it for you, yeah? You've had a rough few weeks, you should reward yourself."

"She's not a fuckin’ prize, Tom."

"Keep talking that shit and people will get the wrong idea, think you love the woman or sommet." Thomas shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, while John's cheeks flared, his eyes flinching to the floor. He smirks to himself. "You going to go get your lass, then?"

John replied wordlessly, standing and downing the rest of his drink, pulling on his suit jacket, straightening his collar. "I'll catch you later, Tom."

********

The lad was nice, his name had long disappeared into the fog of liquor and Tokyo. He was someone's cousin, but he was polite; charming, almost. Most importantly, he wasn't related to your best friend. Not quite a Casanova type like John, but you two were a good match, everyone thought so. You'd seen him a few times now over the past week. He wasn't much of a talker, but he was a good dancer, and sweet after a few pints.

The band started playing a slower song, Isaiah dancing chest to chest with a beautiful girl across from you. You felt your partner place his fingers on the small of your back, his fingers inching lower, pulling you in closer before the two of you were interrupted by a dark figure looming over you.

"Can I cut in, mate?" A strong Birmingham accent sliced through the air, voice low and polite enough, but with a tone that was laced with venom. "Or are you gonna be a dick about it?"

The lad glanced nervously between you two, moving his hands away from you, embarrassed to be caught by his boss in this state, John staring him down. You slowly pulled away from him, turning to face John.

"Or you could ask me to dance yourself, John?"

John silently glared back at you, his mouth tensed into a thin line. He looked momentarily embarrassed, his attention switching back to your dance partner, the rest of lads silently watching, breaths baited, ready to jump in on the action if the moment required it.

"I'm heading off mate, reckon she's a cocktease." Your partner comments, attempting to diffuse the tension, stepping away, not wanting a fight or to piss off his boss. His path was quickly blocked by another blinder. You shot him an apologetic look and took the large hand John was offering you.

"Or, she's just not interested in you," John quipped, smirking, locking his fingers through yours. "You gonna go get your coat while I finish up with your best mate?"

"Thought we were dancing?"

"You can dance as much as you like in the suite, yeah? Proper gramophone. You coming?"

"You just want me on my own."

"Just tired of the distractions." He told you pointedly, skimming his glare over the group of men, standing with baited breath, preparing for it to kick off.

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hands, slowly heading to the cloakroom, chatting with the attendant as you watched John confront the lad, keeping your distance. His arms were clutching the lad's lapels, snarling in his face before pushing him back. Michael watched from a few steps away, smoking absentmindedly, spine pressed to a pillar, leaving his cousin to sort out whatever offense he believed the man had caused.

You bundled yourself up in your thin coat, a gift from one of the girls you hung around with as she had recently married a blinder and was being spoiled rotten. The coat's flimsy material was going to be useless against the London night. At least you could count on John to keep you warm on the walk back to the hotel. You headed towards the side door, John's hand quickly finding your lower back protectively as he fell into step beside you. He opened the heavy wooden doors for you, the cold air an instant relief from the heat of the nightclub. You turned back as the door closed, catching a glimpse of the boys closing in on the lad, their eyes gleaming with a violent hunger for action.

"He'll be alright. Daft prick just getting put in his place." John said flatly. He seemed bored but watched you anxiously, begging you with his eyes to drop the subject.

"Is the hotel close by?" You asked casually, as the frigid air swirled around your calves, instantly causing you to shiver.

"I'll get us a cab, love, can't have you in those heels trekking halfway across London town." He stepped fearlessly into the road, unbothered about any potential danger or just forgetful from the whiskey. Quickly, a dark cab pulled up to the cobblestone pavement and John helped you in, taking off his coat and wrapping it around your shoulders before climbing in after you.

As the engine started and the car made its way through London's dimly lit streets to Camden, John's hand found its way to your thigh. You glanced at him, his eyes looking away but his thumb angled against his teeth. He was nervous, having not touched you in a month. You crossed your legs, angling them towards him, his hand shifting higher up your thighs, taking a deep sigh of relief. Your hands found his chin in the gloom of the back of the car, only the occasional bright lights from a nightlife hub or the demure lights of a residential illuminating his face, the angles changing as the cab drove on. It was too much. You'd been needing this for the past month, needing him. Your hands laced around the back of his head and you pressed your lips to his for a brief moment, allowing John to pull you deeper into the kiss. It awoke something familiar inside you, something comforting. Kissing John erased all your homesickness. Christ, you had to stop thinking like this.

"You've not been about for a bit, sweetheart. I know we said never again, but I was hoping you'd come by," John muttered, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours as he spoke.

"I almost did. The amount of times I nearly visited your office.. I just couldn't do that to you or Ada. Besides, last I heard, you were on tour." You admitted, keeping your voice down to save the cab driver the embarrassment. John caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, tracing the corner of your mouth, prompting a grin from you.

"Last place on earth I'd expected to see you next, it's been hectic my end," He sighed. His eyes were outlined with deep purple smudges of exhaustion, yet he was still devastatingly beautiful even after all the sleepless nights. "It's been too long."

"Not my fault you've been hiding yourself away. You should've called."

"Blame Tommy for that. His solution seems to be sending me on business trips. Trying to make me too tired to handle you." A nervous lick of his lips revealed John’s response to the suggestion that he call you. He wanted to say he would ring next time, but there couldn't be a next time.

"You can barely handle me on a good day, Mr. Shelby."

"Can't blame me. You seen yourself? On the brink as soon as I see you, lass." He teased, earning a gentle shove to the shoulder as you quickly pressed a kiss underneath his chin. You wanted to bring up Thomas' threat, but you bit your tongue, nudging his shin with the toe of your heel in the back of the cab. He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrists lightly. "Behave yourself in front of the nice cabbie, sweetheart."

You soften at his touch, unable to resist reaching to interlock your fingers, squeezing his hands in yours affectionately. The spirits your table had been bringing you all night definitely boosted your confidence, any hesitancy due to potential rejection drowned out. John pressed his lips to your knuckles in response. He seemed different tonight, far more protective and serious than usual. He was so quiet it was strange, usually yapping your ear off, desperate for you to react, treating him to a giggle, a middle finger or a cutting response. You'd also never witnessed him spark off due to someone's interaction with you. Finn had mentioned a week or so back that John had a shouting match with Thomas and in the moment, your name got thrown up in the conversation, resulting in John taking a swing at his big brother out of frustration. It was confusing. He was willing to start fights over you, punch his brother, yet when you two were alone he was uncomfortably quiet, studying you, lost in his thoughts. His silence only made your body long for him, his fingers tracing patterns in your inner thigh. You let out a small whimper into the crook of his neck, as he instinctively pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

The car pulled up outside the hotel, your pulse racing, the anticipation already threatening to make you give in completely to his wishes tonight. You waited as he turned up his collar against the rain, clambering out of the car to open your door, creatively arranging the coat to hover just above both your heads protecting you from the miserable weather. Although John had referred to the building as a hotel, you could instantly tell the manor was some aristocrat's third or fourth home, obviously being rented out or gifted to business partners for trips. It was an imposing grey stone building, exquisitely carved, although not a country estate, the house was just as large. Was John used to this? It hit you all of a sudden that you'd never set foot inside John's home. You'd heard from Ada that it was overrun with hoards of screaming children. She often joked with the children at the Shelby Institute that if they hung around long enough at John's, he'd assume they were one of his offspring. You'd only ever fucked him in a guest bed. The shame made your stomach churn.

You needed to remind yourself of this when your late night thoughts ran rampant. John could say what he liked, but he'd never actually allow you to get overly personal with him. Whatever confusing mess was winding around your skull regarding him was useless; it was best not to think about it. You went to him every time, yet he would've picked another lass tonight, it was just that you were there. He probably had a string of gorgeous women, older, more accomplished, more experienced, more elegant. He could tell you he missed you, but you could never take for granted that he told you this for any other reason than as a prelude to get you in bed with him. You were his gorgeous mess, but only for the night. It was best to remind yourself to care less than he did. It was the easiest solution in the long term; this way, the downfall would be less brutal.

"You alright, love?" He asked suddenly, breaking your train of thought.

"Sorry, I was thinking about work."

He lived around his brothers for long enough, he could smell bullshit. He decided to let it go. It was best to not push it tonight. Just keep it light hearted, easy, like it was always meant to be.

"If your boss keeps being a prick, you tell Ada. She'll sort him out."

"Don't I know it? He can barely open the door before she starts on about workplace ethics." You joked, earning a small smile instead of his usual bright chuckle. "John, what are we doing here?"

"Well I'm about to take you upstairs and sort you out, yeah? You gonna let me look after you?" He asked, stopping you in your tracks by turning you into him, grabbing your wrist.

"You know that isn't what I meant."

"I know. But can we leave it tonight? Can we just have fun?" He questioned, lips ghosting over yours, fixing you with an intense stare.

"It's fun anymore." Your voice cracked, the liquor in your system making it impossible to control your tone or your facial expressions. "It's fucking with my head, John."

"It's just.. fucking difficult. It's fucking difficult because of who we are." He replied firmly but dropped his makeshift coat shelter around your shoulders, freeing his hands to grab your face pulling it to his, the alcohol making him far needier than he usually appeared. "You, my beautiful Y/N, are a fucking losing game. It's not as easy for me, I can't just dance with a woman and get a leg over-"

"I never said you couldn't."

"I know, I.." He gestured vaguely, lifting one of his hands off your cheeks, and you can feel your head nodding in understanding. "You know, I thought I was going to manage it this time. That I wouldn't be a total fuck up, but then you and that lad-"

"Catch you getting jealous over me."

"Fuck off." He let go of you for a split second but you reeled him back in, resting your palms on the chest of his shirt, the soaked material sticking to his skin. You'd struck a nerve. You decided to push him further.

"I don't know what you're trying to do, Mr. Shelby, disappearing across the country for weeks then coming back and telling me you want me all to yourself?" You played with his collar, tugging his face to yours before pulling back at the last possible second, causing him to let out a frustrated groan, hands itching to feel you underneath them.

"Don't fucking wind me up," He snapped, the intensity between you rekindled momentarily.

"It's worked wonders in the past," You replied, barely able to finish your sentence before his mouth was on yours, his fingers tangling into your hair, kissing you properly. Although you'd kissed so many times prior, this one felt so genuine, as though unleashed from its restraints deep within John. You'd never kissed anyone in the rain before in the middle of the night, and it felt magical. You were shivering but hot all over, burning for John to do something, anything. You could feel his cock through his dress pants, hard against you, prompting you to moan into his mouth.

"Fuck’s sake, Y/N," John grunted into your ear, his hands grabbing at your arse. "You're fuckin’ killing me here. I need you, yeah?"

"Tell me how badly." You responded coyly, linking your arms around his neck, ignoring the late night drizzle.

"I'd rather show you. M’gonna take care of you tonight, make up for the month I've been gone."

"Who's saying I've not been taking care of myself?'

He bit his lip in frustration, trying to stop his mind running wild with the image of you in bed, fingers between your thighs, breasts moving as you arched your back, hips lifting off the mattress, moaning as you called his name -- his jaw clenched. "I know what you're doing. You coming up before you catch a chill?"

You shifted your weight away from him, as if considering your options. He knew your answer; you both knew in a few minutes you'd be upstairs practically tearing his shirt off, needing his skin against yours, begging for him. John pulled away from you, dragging you up the winding path to the front door of the manor, opening the door for you, arm wrapping around your waist. His lips met yours, then your collarbones and neck, prompting a breathy giggle and whine as you wound yourself back around him, craving the contact. The manor was plunged in darkness, staff somewhere in the gloom. Your arrival had definitely been noted, but as with everyone who worked for the Shelbys, they just left you to it. It was easier to not get involved, to keep their heads down and not mention the midnight trysts the brothers got up to.

John knew his path, he'd stayed here before. Even in the dark you could tell the house was decorated to spare no expense, the gaudy paintings and sculptures casting strange shadows. He led you up the grand flight of stairs, then another.

"Worse than Thomas' estate, this place." You murmured quietly, unsure of other guests within earshot.

"I could never live like this. I'd never see my brood again. Getting them ready for bed would be one hell of a nightmare." He whispered back, halting your stride by pulling your hips to his, unable to wait any longer.

"John, what if we get caught?" You asked, pressing your hand against his chest with your palm flat.

"Never bothered you before. Thought you liked the fact that anyone could just walk in and see what a pretty little mess you’ve made for me."

You couldn’t help yourself from pressing an affectionate kiss to his mouth, letting him lay you down and pin you to the stairs, the luxuriously thick carpets scraping into your flesh. He cursed under his breath at the sight of you underneath him, pushing your dress up your thighs, lifting your legs to wrap around his neck, pressing a kiss to your flimsy underwear, glancing up to drink you in. The most beautiful woman in his city, begging for him, figure swamped by his coat, rain soaked and shivering, his mouth between her thighs. He ran his tongue slowly across your clothed core, your pleading moans music to his ears, loving how your thighs tightened around his neck. His tongue traced circles over your clit and labia, the friction generated by the lace of your panties pushing you further, your hands knotting into his hair, spine arching against his mouth.

"No one been looking after you while I was gone. eh?" He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh, tugging your panties to the side. "What about your dancing pal?"

"Fuck’s sake, I barely know him, John." You snapped back, teetering on the edge between lust and frustration from his relentless teasing.

"Keep it that way. You don't need ‘im, lass, not while I'm about." He replies before lapping at your slit, interpreting your moans as approval as your head slumped back and you released a low groan. "Y/N, watch me, yeah?"

You pull yourself weakly upwards, propping yourself up in your elbows to be able to look down the staircase at John between your legs in the dark. The view was thrilling, moonlight shining in through the rain on the window, illuminating his face, hair messy and tongue flickering across your clit while he stared up at you, his eyes darkened with lust. You couldn't help but pant, knowing you'd be returning to this moment alone at night, when it was your fingers instead of John's tongue pushing you towards the edge.

"So fuckin' wet and ready for me, aren’t you?" He crooned, sliding his fingers into you, sucking at your clit between flicks of his tongue.

You couldn’t find the words to respond, whimpers leaving your mouth instead, your hips lifting beneath his palms, chest heaving.

"Go on, use your words, clever lass."

"John, fuck.. don't stop," You manage to string together, thoughts too muddled by alcohol and arousal to play hard to get any longer.

"I won't ‘til you cum in my mouth. Need to taste you again, beautiful."

Your head jerked back suddenly as John curled his fingers inside you, pushing up against the spot that made you lose your mind, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, all he could hear except from his blood rushing in his head. Your desperate cries for relief caused his cock to strain against his dress pants, fighting the urge to sort himself out, needing to finish you off. John needed to prove that he could fuck you better than anyone else. He knew he was pushing you to the edge, but he wasn't going to deny you your orgasm. He wanted to make a point with this. His fingers worked faster, his mouth hungry for you, lips moving against your core at a harsh pace.

You groaned loudly, hips bucking involuntarily just to be forced back against the carpet of the staircase. Your breaths grew heavier, warning him how close you were to your peak. John refused to let up, pushing you closer every second, lips latched to your core firmly, lapping up the wetness he'd produced.

"I want to watch you finish." He commanded, you completely at his will now that you'd lost control, lifting your head upwards with the little strength you had left to be able to stare down at his dilated blue eyes. "Good girl. You gonna show me how good I make you feel? You gonna cum for me, doll?"

You couldn't respond, unable to keep your eyes from rolling backwards as you felt yourself suddenly release, John’s name escaping from between your lips, legs shuddering around his neck. He let you ride it out on his tongue, tasting you desperately, watching your expression slowly relax.

Finally, he pulled away from your cunt, unwrapping your legs from his neck. He grabbed your wrist, not letting you retrieve your panties, stuffing them into his trouser pocket. He returned his attention to tracing your slit with the index finger and thumb of his other hand, as he pressed a long kiss to your lips.

"I love how you taste," He murmured against your lips, causing you to flush slightly. John noticed, pressing kisses to your jawbone. "Don't get shy on me now. I've barely started with you. Not even got you to the suite and you've already cum."

He looked so proud of himself, it suddenly clicked for you. He was trying to prove himself to you, for some unknown reason. You know he was protective and quite obviously jealous tonight, but you couldn't believe that John Shelby felt the need to prove that he knew what he was doing, as though you weren't aware. You weren't trekking to his office for mediocre sex. Tonight he let you finish first, no teasing, no denial, no fucking about. Just putting his ability fully on show, so when your mind went drifting it'd go back to him, not some young lad who barely knew what he was doing. His cocky attitude and smug acceptance of his sexual prowess would've been off-putting if it was anyone else, but John, but with his bright smile and constant humour, pulled it off. It was enticing, making your core pool with wetness when he crossed your mind.

"A month is far too long, Mr. Shelby."

"I know, you're practically drooling over me." He teased. He seems a lot more himself than before. He’d been too caught up in his head, too focused on getting you off to enjoy the flirting and teasing. John loved how light-hearted he could be with you. Despite the mess you were both in, it was making you laugh or roll your eyes that soothed his mind. Honestly, if it was just sex he'd have cut you off instantly; he wouldn't have even gone there out of loyalty to Ada. Admittedly, it was your company and presence that had him absolutely on his knees for you, the way he felt understood, less alone in his brother's bullshit, less trapped by his criminal career because you understood. You always had a cutting line, a bright smile just for him, an eye roll at his brothers' daft plans, a choice curse word for Thomas. He didn't even want to consider what would happen after the night ended. He stood, pressing another kiss to your lips as he helped you to your feet, fixing his coat which hung off your shoulders.

"You ready for rounds two through to six?"

"John, you know you won't get through three with me."

"You’re right, you're just too pretty when you’re riding my cock." He teased, the vulgar material of his jibe earning him a joking shove before you curl into his side, letting him escort you up the stairs to the nearest bedroom. He quickly shut the door behind you, scooping you up in his arms, causing you to let out a laugh as he practically tossed you onto the king sized bed, eyes shining with adoration as he looked down at you grinning back up at him.

“You’re something else, John Shelby.”

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 9

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Starts Forlex Ends Malex, Other Characters May Appear, Tags Subject to Update, Mutual Pining, Breaking Up, Getting Together

Chapter Summary: Michael and Isobel reckon with the fallout from Michael’s choices; Maria and Max catch up with him post-recovery.

Excerpt:

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

 (Wednesday, 11:00 am)

  Michael flipped Alex’s key over and over in his fingers, running it along his knuckles, pressing his thumb into the teeth until they left a locking-imprint on his skin, then doing it all over again. At some point, maybe it would start to feel real, if he reminded himself of the thing often enough.

The repetition and stimulation of the rough teeth, the cool, smooth metal, soothed him as he waited on Isobel’s porch. She’d called him here in the first place, so eventually she’d open the door. Until then, he waited. And as he waited, he thought of Alex, because what else was there to think about these days?

(A thousand things, like Jones and Project Shepherd, Max and Liz, and all the work piling up at Sanders’s, but Alex had a way of blotting everything else out, and, no matter how much his brain tried to get him to feel stupid or naïve or childish for hoping yet again, he was going to let himself bask in that shade for once in his life.)

He hadn’t left Alex’s house, still, except to go to work and get things from his own place. At Alex’s, he was still sleeping in the guest room, the both of them afraid that they’d fall back into their old patterns too fast if they fell right into bed. But during the day they shared that space, a kitchen, a den, existing alongside each other as they read or cooked or composed, and the routine wasn’t so different from the tense and quiet days right after Michael’s injury, but at the same time they were nothing alike, not when each tiny glance could mean so much, not when fingers on the soft rasp of turning pages were fingers he could touch, that could touch him.

Everything was different. It was terrifying, and exhilarating, brand new and nostalgic. It had only been a day; it had only been half their lifetimes.

“Ew, you’re glowing.”

Isobel’s voice started Michael out of his thoughts, and he jumped, shoving Alex’s key into his pocket. She was glaring at him, but still he relaxed, because Isobel’s snark was a form of love and her turning scorn in his direction was a sign things were getting back to normal between them.

“It’s all natural,” he drawled as she stepped aside to let him inside.

“Right. Did something happen, or is this just some lesser known side effect of being brought back from the brink of death.”

“Uh…”

In a way, sort of, if only because Michael’s own stupidity had driven him and Alex closer together, but that wasn’t exactly a direct correlation or anything admirable.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Just…”

He fell silent. How was he supposed to talk about being in love? He’d never done it before, and this was a first he hadn’t anticipated facing.

“Alex and I…” he tried again, but found himself only able to smile, still without words, and he raised his arms in a helpless shrug.

Isobel’s eyebrows raised. “Oh my god.”

“Yep.”

“I’m still pissed at you, but if Manes is making you his side chick after everything, I’m going to rip his spine out through his—”

“Isobel, no! It’s not like that,” Michael laughed, shaking his head.

“Well what’s it like, then? I cannot handle him breaking your heart again when we’re already dealing with Max.”

He replied, “My heart is fully intact,” as he headed in and dropped down on her couch, throwing a hand over his heart for dramatic effect. “No, uh, Alex and Forrest had a fight, which sucked, but it led to us getting a chance to talk more about, y’know, us, and what we wanted, and each other, so…”

“So this is rebound,” Isobel snipped.

“Can you stop?” Michael said, half-laughing. Even her pessimism on the subject of love couldn’t pop the bubble around his heart right now. He patted the couch beside him, and she hesitated for a few seconds with her arms crossed, before capitulating and joining him.

“Oh, fine,” she groused, leaning against the arm of the couch farthest away from where he was sitting. “Your funeral.”

The words landed like a lead balloon, and Michael winced as her face grew stormier.

“I’m—”

“Don’t,” Isobel held up a hand in his face. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well, what do you want to hear?”

“An explanation, Michael! What the hell were you thinking? Why would you do that? What if he’d just straight up killed you, did you want us to find your body in a cave somewhere or, or never, blown to smithereens by a man who literally breathes fire! You’re so stupid, and selfish, and—” She cut herself off, furious tears welling in her eyes even as the rest of her face didn’t change.

“I know! I know, you’re right, it was stupid. I wasn’t thinking, or, well, I was thinking, but my head was all messed up.” He rested his forehead in his hands and running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think any explanation is going to make any sense now, out of the moment, but I just…everything was going to shit, and I couldn’t do anything for Max, and I thought Jones might have answers, or could help me unlock new powers like you’ve done on your own. So I could protect everyone.”

Isobel threw her arms up and got to her feet, pacing around the couch; Michael tracked her, anxiety dipping and spiking every time she circled him. Her anger pulsing when she passed behind him made his skin crawl, and he shifted in his seat.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she finally spoke, stopping in front of him.

He kept his head bent forward, staring at his knees.

She continued, “I really don’t. I’ve been trying for twenty-one years, but I still don’t know how to get through to you. How to convince you that you’re not alone, that people want to protect you. To help you. But I’m not Max. I’ve never pushed or pried or fought to cling onto you when you shook us off. I just hung around because I knew you’d always come back.” She took a deep breath. Her voice stayed steady and deliberate. “But Michael, this has gone on for too long, and you went too far this time. You have to let us help you. Otherwise—I don’t know. I just don’t. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.”

Drops of water speckled the tops of Michael’s knees, and he sniffed, swallowed, mouth dry, throat tight and aching. His sister’s gentle hands threaded through his hair, cradling both temples, right hand over Max’s lingering handprint, but no matter how careful that touch was, he flinched.

Isobel tipped his head up so he had to look her in the eye and said, “You’re my brother, Michael. I love you so much. And I would do anything for you, just like you would—and have—do anything for me. But you need to let me! From here on out, I need you to fucking work with me. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

Tears trickling down his face and dripping from his chin, Michael nodded, not trusting his voice, and Isobel fell forward, his arms opening up to catch her, and they stayed like that for a long time, Michael rocking her back and forth, her clinging desperately to his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaked, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Or Max. I just, I can’t stop myself, sometimes, I know it’s not an excuse, I know it was stupid, I know—”

“I know,” she interrupted his stream of self-loathing, sitting back to look him seriously in the face. “I was in your head, remember?”

She’d found him beneath a vaulted ceiling, stained glass in shifting, alive, alien colors, walled in with his demons. Defining himself inside the devouring maelstrom by the battles he understood. His whole life, he’d sewed himself back whole, and his work wasn’t pretty, but the patterns made sense, and they kept him sane even when the odds demanded otherwise. The image flashed behind his eyes, but that’s all it was, an image. He shook his head.

“Not really.”

“Well. I didn’t really go snooping, no matter how tempting it was,” she said with a self-deprecating roll of her eyes. “But let’s just say…you don’t owe me any explanations you aren’t willing or ready to give. Those belong to you. I know I haven’t always understood that in the past. We both have things to work on, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael rasped, squeezing her tight again. “I…want to work on them with you.”

“Then it sounds like we’re going to be okay,” she softly replied.

(3:00 pm)

Isobel didn’t let him leave the house until both their eyes stopped being red and puffy from crying; It took multiple episodes of some Food Network show he’d never heard of before she agreed to let him out of her sight, and, in deeply un-Isobel-like fashion, she followed him to the door and pulled him into another hug for the road before she let him leave.

The drive from Isobel’s to the Wild Pony wasn’t really long enough to fully ruminate on how bad he must have scared Isobel to warrant this level of reaction. Logically, he’d known, but emotionally it was just beginning to sink in.

Over the past year, he’d been faced with losing Isobel and with losing Max multiple times—had lost Max, in fact. He knew how it felt. Why should the loss of himself be any different to them? In low moments, sure, thoughts shifted beneath the murk of his mind, lurking demons from childhood, that they didn’t need him, they had each other, a more special bond, he was the odd one out, outside, out in the cold. But on the day to day, he didn’t devalue himself like that, not in so many words, did he? But—

To be surprised? That Isobel was afraid, that Max was afraid, that the both of them stood on the precipice of grieving him and had to process the horror of that fall after snatching themselves back at the last minute? It was a slap in the face, a rude awakening. A lesson that for all these years he’d resisted learning.

The first step to protecting those who loved him was to protect himself. He couldn’t keep shelving it as the lowest priority. They were one and the same.

It sounded fake to his own ears, but he’d just have to say it until the lesson sunk in.

With the windows rolled down, the idle breeze tugged Michael’s hair across his face and cooled the late-summer stickiness from his skin. It was just after lunchtime, a little early for Max to be at work, but since he wasn’t at Isobel’s house, it was faster to check for him here than to drive all the way out to his own place.

If there was one positive to his near-death, it was the way Max was invigorated by a purpose. The healing drained him, of course it did; it could have killed him, and that weighed on Michael’s conscience, but afterward, after it worked and he’d pulled Michael back from death, he smiled. He slept. He bustled around Alex’s house babysitting Michael while Alex was at work, and now, with a little distance from fragile death, that didn’t chafe as badly.

Max deserved a better thanks than Michael had thus far been able to render, and with Isobel’s words still ringing in his ears, there was no better time than now.

He pulled up to the Pony, the fairy lights strung across the patio dancing in the wind, the wood of the old building all pale and real in the sunlight. The old, familiar sign above the door was off as long as the bar was closed, but Michael still took a moment to glance at it nice and long, remembering the feel of fixing it under his hands so the whole place felt less liminal, less like a mirror vision of the beating heart that was the Wild Pony glowing under the night sky, lit from within rather than from the sun.

Faint music played as Michael parked and left his truck, so he rounded the corner of the building to suss it out and smiled at what he saw, leaning against one of the trellis supports.

Maria sat on the steps, an old CD radio of Rosa’s beside her playing a classic Rosa mixtape, a Third Eye Blind track Michael only half-remembered flowing around her, her humming running under it, glittering minerals in a riverbed. She was surrounded by papers, pinned under painted rocks to keep them from being snatched away, her hair tied back by a rainbow scarf, and she bent over to write in a binder propped on her knees.

Michael rapped on the pillar behind him to get her attention, and when she looked up she smiled and set the binder aside.

“Guerin! You’re up! What brings you here with the sun in the sky?”

“Where else am I gonna go to get my sea legs back?”

“Well, come pull your ass into port and sit with me.”

She patted the low stair beside her and Michael did as he was told, swiping his hat off his head as he approached her. For her it was wordplay, but Michael cradled to his chest something more true than maybe she’d intended—Maria was a safe harbor, a port in a storm. No matter how bad things got, her warm heart and practical mind were a reminder to never give up. Just sitting beside her was enough to make him smile, even though he sat with a good six inches buffer between them, still unsure what boundaries were appropriate, still navigating the uncertain waters of being friends with an ex who meant something.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“Oh, you know me.” She gestured vaguely to the arrangement of papers and tucked her feet up beside her, leaning toward Michael, cutting the space between them in half like it wasn’t worth noticing. Some of the tension in Michael’s chest unwound at her ease around him.

“Hustling?” he prompted.

“Yep. I’m just organizing the events I have planned for the upcoming season and making sure I have space set out for scheduling, details, budgeting, the works. High school me would die with envy; my system was never this good when I was trying to study.”

“I’m definitely impressed. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with, anything you need built, or an extra set of ‘hands’ for decorating.”

“How is that going?” she asked, brows furrowing.

“I’m still getting my strength back. Just gotta keep pushing through and hope whatever Jones did didn’t mess me up for good.”

“I’m sure he didn’t.”

Her hand extended but stopped before touching him, until he turned his hand palm-up, asking her to take it. She did, squeezing him.

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “And the TK aside, have any of the other powers cropped up? The light, the teleporting? Those were the ones Alex told me about.”

“That’s all I remember, really. And no. I haven’t even tried, honestly.” He looked at their joined hands, her wrist bare of the pollen bracelet he’d promised her and wasted, thrown away like trash in a corner of Jones’s cave. This is blasphemy…

“Do you think you will? Try?” Maria asked, head tilted.

“I…hadn’t thought about it. Been focused on getting back to square one with the TK, but…”

Was doing more with his powers still an option? Was he willing to try, and fail, and fail again, without folding and submitting to all the voices in his head that told him every failure was proof positive of the erstwhile adage that he was worthless?

“Well, you have time,” Maria said, squeezing his hand again.

“What about you?” Michael asked. “Any visions?”

Her face shut down. She let go of his hand to smooth both hers down her knees then fold her arms around herself, turning her head away. “No. Still nothing. A few dreams, but it isn’t always easy to tell what’s a normal dream and what’s a vision, and with you out of the woods, the most dire ones are already Jossed.”

“What about Mimi?”

“Huh.” Maria pursed her lips for a second, then said, “I haven’t noticed any change in her? But I’ll have to ask and see what she says. I’m not even completely sure our powers work identically, with the things she’s said about being unstuck in time…I don’t always get that same feeling.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Michael promised her. “Even if it means having to go back to Jones and ask what he knows—”

“No!”

She wheeled on him and smacked his arm lightly.

“Absolutely not! Michael!”

“Not alone, obviously!” He defended.

“Not at all. Jesus Christ. I’ll tell Isobel you said that—I’ll tell Alex—”

“Maria, c’mon,” Michael whined, taking her hand again in an attempt to connect them and calm them both down. “I just don’t want to rule out that he’s meddling in more ways than we know. I still think he’s fucking with Max. You deserve answers, if that’s what’s going on.”

“Not at the cost of your life. Not ever. It could be a hundred other things, too. Stay away from him, Michael, I’m serious.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Good,” she said firmly, wrapping her arm around his again and leaning into him. He let out a long, slow breath as she relaxed.

“You know, in Jones’s cave…”

“Mm?”

Michael carefully encircled her wrist with his fingers. “I lost the bracelet I made for you. The backup one I promised.”

“Are you feeling guilty about that? Because please, don’t,” she replied, covering the hand on her wrist with her other. “That is the last thing on my mind.”

“But I—”

“Hush. I’m glad you had it with you, whatever happened to it. It’s good that you opted to protect yourself, even if it didn’t work.”

“I thought your powers were offline.”

“The visions, maybe. But I don’t need to see the future to read you, Guerin.”

“You are something else, DeLuca.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Hey, Maria—oh! Michael!”

The two of them turned toward the backdoor at the sound of Max’s voice.

“Hey, Max,” Maria said. “Is the inventory finished?”

“Yeah, I was just coming to report back.”

“No need to be so formal,” she teased, standing up and brushing dust from the seat of her pants, looking at the papers around her with her hands on her hips. “I was hoping to get your opinion on some plans, Number One, but someone interrupted, so they’re not quite ready yet.”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael drawled.

Max reached out a hand, and Michael took it to humor him, letting him haul him to his feet.

“I’ll let you off the hook this time,” Maria said as she led the way back into the bar, cool and dim in the daylight. “You can sweep up to say you’re sorry.”

“My pleasure,” Michael said, reaching out a hand, hoping he could summon the broom as nonchalantly as he once could. It sat unresponsive until a spike of formless frustration zipped through him, at which point it flew to his hand fast and hard enough to sting his palm when he caught it. Great. Just what he needed right now—puberty flashbacks.

“I need to run,” Maria said, stowing her binder behind the bar. “Late lunch with Rosa. I’ll see you later, Max—Michael, it was so good to see you. Say hi to Alex for me, okay? I know you’re gonna see him before I do.”

She left with a wink while Michael was still pink and stammering. Maybe Alex had told her already—or maybe that was just Maria, putting him so at ease it was easy to forget how much she saw. His chest glowed so warm he couldn’t stop blushing at that casual acknowledgement, that easy validation, that he and Alex—that Alex and he were what they were to each other, now, again.

“Wait, is she talking about you staying over there, or does she mean—dude!” Max grinned ear to ear and bounded out from behind the bar to pull Michael into a back-slapping hug. “Congratulations!”

Old, brotherly habit had Michael squirming out of Max’s affections, but it didn’t dent his exuberance; he retaliated with a swipe through Michael’s hair, making him duck further out of range, huffing and laughing all at once as he tried to fix it again.

“Yeah, um, Forrest and Alex broke up, and then one thing led to another, so.”

“I’m really happy for you, man.”

“I—thanks. I’m…I’m really happy, too.”

The sudden urge to comfort Max gripped him, a strange survivor’s guilt that things would be working out for him and Alex and Max and Liz would still be so far apart. But it wasn’t his place to throw that in Max’s face now, so he bit his tongue and basked in Max’s honest happiness for him.

“Could you feel, uh, any of my emotions through the handprint?” Michael asked. He ran his hand through his hair over the spot on his temple where Jones had held him, erased by Max’s healing hands, then dropped it back to his side abruptly, flexing away the phantom stiffness that still plagued him, that probably always would. He gave it a shake as if to chase away nervous tingling.

“Nah. But it’s not like I’m looking; I respect your privacy, man.”

“’preciate that,” Michael snarked, and Max just shrugged.

“Any particular reason you ask? I don’t need to know what you and Alex are up to,” Max joked.

Michael considered his answer for a little bit as he made his way between the tables. After all, it wasn’t as if this was the first handprint Max had ever given him. The ones on his neck and hand cut off by his death aside, dozens of times over dozens of years, Max had practiced healing on him and they’d explored that connection. Michael was always the guinea pig; he never wanted for injuries to work on, after all.

But there’d been a lot of handprinting over the past year and change. Max felt something from Liz; Liz felt something from Noah; Rosa and Max had a connection strong enough to tether Max to the world of the living. And then there was Michael, with Jones’s voice in his ear, dripping condescending words about his lack of psychic ability being phenomenal, considering.

At various times in his life, Michael had looked up at the stars and wondered in the silence what it was in him that was irreparably broken.

“Just curious. It’s been a while, and all juiced up like I was, I was wondering if anything felt different.”

“Nothing different. Just you.”

Max smiled like that was a good thing, a comforting thing. And you know what? In between the adrenaline of change, good and bad, in between the rock of Project Shepherd and the hard place of Jones, on an afternoon in a closed bar, a home to both of them, alone with his brother, Michael let it be.

He cleared his throat. “Good. So there’s no…interference or anything? Nothing weird lurking around up there?”

“Not that I can tell; Isobel would probably know better than I would. Whatever he did to you was bizarre, man. It wasn’t like the way, uh, the way I’ve killed people before. Or the way Noah killed.”

“I don’t think he was just trying to kill me.”

Michael made his way over to a booth and beckoned Max over; he lingered over his work for a glance at the clock and then came and joined him.

He continued, “He kept going on about teaching and knowledge and this being the wrong way but the most efficient. He knew it would hurt me, but maybe it would have worked better if he did it to someone more, uh, receptive than me.”

“What are you talking about?” Max leaned over the table, brow furrowed. This close up, the dark circles below his eyes were more noticeable. “Michael, what he did to you wasn’t in any way your fault—”

“I know, I know, that’s not what I mean. Just…look, I saw the security footage from Caulfield, from the day of the Valenti incident. The way that alien approached Jim Valenti and put his hands on him was identical to what Jones did to me, and I think maybe that guy was just trying to communicate but it fucked up a human in a way he either couldn’t expect or was too out of it to realize. And, well,” Michael gestured to his own head. “I’m the most human of the three of us up here.”

“I…huh.” Max sat back and drummed his fingers on the tabletop as he processed that. “Well, whatever the case, it proved you and Isobel were right about him. He can’t be trusted. Nobody should have any more contact with him. We’ll start doing our monthly drop offs contactless until we all figure out what should be done with him.”

His voice was firm, businesslike. Traffic Stop Max was Michael’s least favorite version of his brother and he’d hoped that his turn to the civilian would’ve put that guy to rest, but he had a tendency to rear his head in a crisis.

But in this case, he saw through him, and that façade was hiding something.

“How do you feel about that?” Michael asked, leaning back and slouching, reflecting Max’s rigid body language the way he had for a decade, cops and robbers style.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about it. He almost killed you; we’ll do what has to be done.”

“Uh, it definitely does matter. You’re the closest thing to a next of kin he’s got, as far as we know. If anyone gets to decide what happens to him, it’s you.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Is it? ‘Cause, look, I know I fucked up a lot of stuff running off to Jones half-cocked like I did. I don’t want to set off a chain reaction of more bad mistakes that rips us apart again when we’re just startin’ to…” Michael trailed off with a self-conscious shrug. It was realer than he’d intended to get, but it was the root of the issue, wasn’t it?

Max’s face softened, and Michael slumped lower in the booth.

“You’re not. You won’t.”

“You’re just saying that—”

“Michael.”

That tone was always a coin flip if it’d get right under Michael’s skin or if it’d shut him up. It landed on the second one this time, to Michael’s relief.

Max said, “No chain reactions. What we were doing before wasn’t working, okay? I knew I wanted something from Jones, but I couldn’t bring myself to reach out and take it. All you did was force us to make a choice when I would’ve dug my heels in and not been able to for a long time otherwise.”

“The answers you’re looking for, though, you deserve to look for them if it’s what you need,” Michael forged on, battling his clumsy tongue. “I should’ve said that before. You deserve to know who you are and to learn who that is in whatever way you can. Everybody deserves that.”

“Thank you. I mean that. But I was getting so desperate—the things I was thinking of doing—I scared myself, okay? I didn’t think—I don’t think I am that person. And being this person I am right now and who I want to be right now is more important than any answers about the past, if that’s what it means to find them.”

Michael sat with that, looking Max up and down, sitting with his own feelings as much as Max’s words. Parsing his own reactions to Max was something he took steadier, more carefully than most other things in his life. It was a set of muscles he needed to practice with as much as he needed to get power back to his telekinesis.

“Okay, man. I respect that,” he said finally, leaning over the table to punch Max in the shoulder. Max made a face and rubbed that spot.

“Ow, man, thanks, I guess.”

“Damn, did I get you in your writing arm?”

“Try my drink-mixing arm. If I’m off tonight, I’m ratting you out to Maria.”

Michael let out a scandalized noise and slipped out of the booth.

“Where are you going?” Max laughed, dark eyes shining with life in a way Jones’s never could. For all they were identical, Michael barely saw the resemblance.

“To lay low, what do you think? You’re makin’ me a fugitive.”

“Uh huh. Good luck; you know she’s just going to ask Alex.”

“Damn it. The things I do for love.”

A smile on his own face as soon as he turned his back, Michael was almost at the door when Max called his name and he turned to face him again.

“Michael? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Asking. Listening.”

Those two words held a lifetime of desperate loneliness between them, and Michael would be sitting with that, too, as long as he was holding it in his head, making it a conscious decision, to do right by his brother.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said.

“I wanted to,” Max replied simply.

“Well in that case…I guess you’re welcome.”

Michael’s phone buzzed in his pocket, not the single pulse of a text but the longer jangling of a phone call. He fished it out, smiling when he saw the name, and he didn’t even wait to get privacy from Max before answering.

“Alex—”

“Thank God. Where are you, Michael? Are you okay?”

“Alex? I’m fine, I’m at the Pony, what’s wrong—”

Max hurried to Michael’s side.

Alex repeated, “Thank god. Don’t come home, do you hear me? Do not come back to the house until I give you the all clear. Stay with Max and Maria.”

“What? No!”

But the line cut off midway through his protest, leaving him with nothing but the dial tone.

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.18}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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The way back to the castle was quick and they arrived just in time for dinner, but still made their ways into the great hall separately like they usually did. All the way, Robin couldn't help smiling to herself, not even as she sat down with her friends, who resided at the Slytherin table today. 

It took them two seconds to notice her unusually good mood and another to comment on it, but Robin just explained that she'd had a nice day in Hogsmeade and an enjoyable walk back. Jorien snorted in return, Cas frowned, and Simon did both at once, while Michael and Gideon simply didn't know Robin well enough to be aware of the fact that she hated shopping, and designated Hogsmeade days even more. Jorien was quick to explain that fact to them however, and Robin just shrugged it off with another smile. She did add then that she'd mostly enjoyed intimidating a shop owner to accept her terms of a bargain –she did not give details on either though– and her friends finally agreed that this already sounded a whole lot more like the Robin they knew.

Dinner was mostly amicable chatter and talk about tomorrow's tutoring then, as well as a ridiculously serious discussion between Jorien and Gideon about an incident they'd all heard of somehow –involving two sixth years, a dark hallway past curfew, some certain body parts and an enlargement charm– which resulted in second-hand embarrassment for Robin, Michael and Simon, and a giggling fit for Cas. Honestly, Jorien was all facts and no emotion sometimes, Cas just didn't possess a sense of shame, and Gideon obviously went to great lengths to win an argument, no matter how ridiculous it was. The other three just had to bear it out. Robin cringed at the mental images the discussion was giving her, but on the other hand she found it entertaining to see Jorien winning the argument with such an ease. It made her feel proud of the girl, if nothing else.

Finally when dinner was over and the group once again among the last to leave, the boys decided that they would tag along for tutoring in the morning, mainly for the sake of getting help with a charms and herbology assignment on Simon's and Michael's end respectively. Robin absolutely didn't mind going over some NEWT topics as well if they wanted her to, and while she immediately placed the disclaimer that she was only a year ahead and might not even be of any actual help to them at all, the five people in front of her simply laughed at that statement. Obviously neither of them believed her to be 'just a year ahead' for real, and while she felt very much flattered by their confidence in her, she also wasn't quite sure if she would actually be able to meet their ridiculously high expectations. Oh well… an issue for another day.

From there, the girls made their way down to the dungeons like every night, with Robin coming along for half of the way, and upon their usual question about her plans for the evening, she told them that Snape and her were in the process of experimenting with some new substances and she thus couldn't say when she would be returning to her dorm. A beautiful way to shape the truth, she thought, and the girls did as they ought to by shrugging it off as another ordinary night of her work. They did her the favour of taking her winter robes back to their room though, when Robin bid them goodnight and went ahead to let herself into the office.

"Don't get settled, we aren't staying." Snape said the moment she closed the door behind herself, and the smirk was back on her lips in no time, but it was dimmed down again when she saw the annoyed frown on his face that accompanied the statement.

"What's the matter? Change in whatever plans you made?"

"Indeed." He grumbled, picking up a stack of notebooks, and then ushered her straight back out into the hallway, where he followed before locking the door to the office. "Poppy is out of calming draught and pepperup potion, and she believes it to be of vital importance to stock up on both tonight. Idiotic, if they would ask me, but unfortunately no one ever does. So lab work it is."

Robin only groaned under her breath and rolled her eyes while her feet carried her towards the lab on autopilot already, with Snape following right behind her. So much for excitement… making both potions and having them ready for delivery would take hours! But it was their job after all. Actually, it was his job and she just couldn't be bothered to stop doing it together with him.

"I hope she at least knows that she owes you for making us do this on a bloody Saturday night." Robin sighed when she finally dropped her backpack in its usual corner in the lab, then pulled her wand out of her sleeve, put her hair up into a messy knot, and finally rolled up her sleeves all in the usual practiced movements. When her eyes lifted from her arms up to Snape however, to see why he wasn't answering, she found him still standing with his back to the closed door, observing her in rapt serenity. The sight sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, but she refused to let it distract her from the task at hand as she moved towards the tables to set up for the impending work. "If you just keep standing there like a pillar of salt we'll never get this done, you know… And I was actually kinda hoping we would get to continue with whatever plans you've made once we're done here."

"We certainly will." He finally replied as he snapped out of his freeze, lips curling into a not-smirk while he mirrored her actions and rolled up his sleeves as well. He had started doing that more often ever since summer, whenever they had practical work to do in the safe solitude of the lab, and Robin felt a certain pride in the knowledge that he was comfortable enough around her by now to do so. Now was no different, and she smiled to herself as she was about to get started.

"Which one would you like me to make?" She asked while he was still setting up next to her. "Any preference?"

"Your pick."

"Again? You're being suspiciously gracious today, and I'm not sure if I want to know why… I'm not dying again, am I?" She sent him a small smirk, but went straight on. "I'll do the calming draught then. Pepperup always makes me sneeze like crazy."

"I know. It is ironic, really."

"Very funny, yes, absolutely hilarious." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, but smiled nonetheless as she got started picking out the ingredients. For these kinds of potions, the infirmary's stock and all the ones taught in class, she had long passed the point of needing instructions at all.

The brewing was a running routine by now, and even if Robin had been hoping for a different pastime for tonight, she still found herself enjoying the work as always. It wasn't the most interesting thing to make standard type potions, admittedly, but just working in the lab together with Snape never failed to be a delight in its own right. Before long they were at the point of simply having to wait while the potions simmered quietly in their cauldrons, and while Robin went to write the labels, Snape started grading the notebooks he had brought. Occasionally he grumbled to himself about whatever idiotic thing some student had written in their essay this time, and Robin always found herself amused by his annoyance. There was little else to do than listening to his remarks after all, seeing as writing labels was a repetitive process she might as well have charmed her quill to do by itself. But then she would be left without anything to do at all, and that wouldn't be an improvement either. Thus she just dipped her quill into the inkwell once more with a silent sigh, when suddenly the comfortable calm of the lab was disturbed by a harsh and repeated knocking on the door. That almost never happened.

Robin jumped a little, but stayed sitting on her stool while Snape grumbled to himself again and went to snap at whoever was bothering them with tangible annoyance radiating off him in an invisible cloud. The very second Robin lifted her gaze from the labels to him however, by chance more than intentionally, something in her mind clicked together at the sight of him almost having reached the door. Without a second thought she dropped the quill and bolted, barely still barging in between Snape and the door before he could open it. Her momentum had her back crashing against the wood in a loud rattle, and she found herself once again standing chest to chest with him, trying to catch her breath as she looked up with wide eyes. His scowl had disappeared entirely, only to be replaced by genuinely shocked surprise. Bloody hell, his face was so close to her own… not even a breath away now. A second passed in silence, and her eyes flickered down to his lips ever so briefly, but she just couldn't help it. Her heart skipped a beat, adrenaline running through her veins like sweetest poison, and she finally remembered why she had brought herself into this situation in the first place.

He still looked like a deer in the headlights when Robin wrapped a reluctant hand around his forearm, then dropped her gaze down to the minimal space between them entirely as she carefully rolled his sleeves down again. It took him a few seconds to catch on to her gesture, but then he helped her by closing a few of the buttons at least before repeating the process on the other side himself at a much faster pace. The entire moment didn't last longer than a few seconds, even though it seemed to span enteritis in Robin's mind, and once the task was accomplished, Snape took a step backwards for Robin to move away from the door to allow him to open up at last.

Bloody hell… Robin's heart was still jumping out of her chest, and her insides had liquified entirely as she went to sit back down on her stool. That had been a very close call on two ends, and she took deep breaths to regain some composure at least while resting her forearms on the tabletop. The area where she had dropped the quill was covered in tiny black speckles, as were her forearms, but for some miraculous reason the labels had been spared at least. Good… things were good. Slowly her heartbeat calmed down to a normal pace again, and her brain started working like it ought to as well. When she finally was in a place of mind to pay attention to what was happening at the door, it was thrown shut already though, and Snape returned to his place next to her at the table in silence.

"What was that about?" She asked as calmly as she could, studying how the frown stayed on his face even as he was sitting down next to her again.

"Nothing of importance." He answered quickly, but then sighed as he seemed to think better of it. They were past the point of only sharing important things with each other… long past it, actually. "Pomona informed me that she would like to keep a small group of fifth years in the greenhouse after curfew tomorrow evening and I gave my approval."

"Ah." Robin replied under her breath, but didn't know what else to say on the issue and thus merely let her gaze drop to the labels again, without picking up the quill though. For a few seconds it was quiet, but she could tell by the tension surrounding them that he wanted to say something, and she would give him all the time he needed to do so. Pushing him never worked in her favour anyway, but giving him space usually did.

"Thank you. For keeping an eye on me." He finally started, in a calm tone now but still with a frown on his face. "Such carelessness on my part has never happened before, and it certainly will not be happening again."

"You were caught up in your thoughts, that happens to everyone at some point. It's not worth being upset over now. And of course I'm keeping an eye on you! It's what we always do, both of us. You know that." She returned a soft smile, reassuring and calm and affectionate in that way that was only reserved for him. "I'm just sorry I jumped at you like a maniac."

It took a few seconds, but then his frown loosened up slowly and the not-smirk returned to his lips. "I didn't mind that, actually."

Robin's smile turned into a smirk as well, and then she just had to laugh. "Of course you didn't… You're insufferable, you know?"

"That would be my line."

"Well, I'm stealing it now. We're both insufferable, that's just the way things are." She said with a nonchalant shrug, turning back to pick up her quill and write her labels with a lingering smirk now, and out of the corners of her eyes, she could see that the same expression was gracing his features as well, as he went to continue grading the essays.

They finished their work in the usual calm contentment, first the grading and the labels –while occasional mocking some dunderhead students– before finally bottling the finished potions. It was shortly before midnight when they were done at last, when the bottles were neatly boxed up to be delivered. They spontaneously decided that Robin would be the one to take them to the infirmary, while Snape wanted to clean up the lab and return the notebooks to the office. Moments later she was as good as gone, carefully balancing four smaller cardboard boxes in her arms as she quickly made her way through the dark castle and towards the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was delighted as always when Robin staggered through the heavy doors in an attempt not to drop everything, and whispered many thanks while helping her sort the boxes into the storage shelves. Robin took note of the fact that by now the entire stock had her handwriting on it indeed, and it probably had been that way for a while. She smiled at the realisation, not without a certain sense of pride, and after bidding the matron goodnight, she was leaving again already.

On her way back down to the dungeons though, Robin almost ran into Morgan, who obviously was assigned to patrol the castle tonight. She was just rounding a corner when he suddenly stood right in front of her, but he was luckily looking into the other direction, which gave her enough time to jump back around the corner and hide away in one of the darkest alcoves. Thank heaven or hell for her by now decent ability to move silently, which she had somehow made a habit of practicing ever since she started spending every night in the lab or the office. Over the years she had gotten quite good at it, not as good as Snape obviously, but good enough for Morgan to walk past her now without having noticed her presence. Thank God… Only once she couldn't hear his doorstep anymore, she finally dared to move out of her alcove and continue her way down to the dungeons almost in a run. She really wasn't up for another nightly encounter with Morgan, especially not if he was actually patrolling the castle tonight. She would just have to be careful, and keep an eye on her surroundings.

And yet, just when she hasted along the last hallway in the dungeons before finally being back at the office, she made the mistake of looking back over her shoulder when rounding the last corner and promptly ran into the familiar wall of black. It had been a while since that had last happened, and this time, instead of letting her tumble down to the floor in her immediate loss of balance, his arm was around her waist in an instant, keeping her upright and securely on her feet. At first Robin let out a startled yelp, but after the second it took her brain to register that she knew that arm around her as well as the scent that was overwhelming her senses now, she didn't even need to look at Snape for her body to relax already.

"Didn't we say we would meet at the office?" She finally asked, barely above a whisper but with a smile in relief and a scowl in feigned complaint nonetheless. His arm disappeared from around her, unfortunately, and he took a step backwards to inspect her with a curious frown.

"We did, but you were taking longer than expected, which usually means that either something or someone has happened to you. I merely wanted to see if you were alright." He said in a quiet tone, glancing down the dark hallway that stretched into blackness behind Robin.

"I'm good… but only barely." She sighed, and his eyes found hers again within a second. "I almost ran into Morgan, he's patrolling tonight. Had to hide for a while until he was gone."

"That would explain the delay. I take it then that he didn't see you?"

"No, he walked right past me. But knowing him, that might just have been part of his game. So I was somewhere between panicking and in a haste to get back here."

"Understandable. Let's see to it that we stay out of his way." He said, then the subtle not-smirk returned to his lips. "We still have plans for tonight after all, and I don't want him, or anyone else for that matter, to interrupt those yet again."

Robin's heart skipped a beat upon his words, and once again the anxiety was making way for suspense and excitement. But at the same time, the spark of amusement in his eyes made her smirk in return. "Since you refuse to tell me what we will be doing, you'll have to lead the way. If you don't wanna stand in the hallway all night, that is."

With an exaggerated eye rolling but the same not-smirk, he motioned for her to come along, stopping again a few more steps down the path to retrieve Robin's backpack from the office first, but much to her surprise they then continued on to make their way through the dark hallways until at last they arrived in front of his rooms. Her heart skipped yet another beat, and she tried not to grin like an idiot while he unlocked the door and then let her go in first. This was an interesting development of things… one she certainly didn't mind in the least. She'd been wondering ever since Thursday night when she would get to come back here, but she honestly hadn't expected that moment to arrive so soon. With the biggest smile on her face she dropped down on the sofa and watched him light up the fireplace before taking off his robes and coat and neatly folding both pieces over a chair. It left him in that linen shirt he had also been wearing on Thursday night when she'd come here unannounced, and when he went to roll up the sleeves of that now again, Robin couldn't help but watch in amazement. At some point that gesture had become ridiculously attractive, just like the whole act of him taking off the many layers of black, and she didn't know if it was the gesture itself that had her marvelling or the level of comfort it represented. Both, probably. Her heart was soaring either way.

"You sit there like you have been summoned to the headmaster's office." He finally said, in a taunting voice, while moving about in search of something. "You've never been shy in a space of mine before, so just get comfortable already, will you?"

"If you insist." She chuckled, and toed off her boots first before crossing her legs on the sofa, when suddenly an idea struck her that made her smirk again. Placing her bag in her lap, she first dug out the bottle of firewhisky and set it down next to her, then went to dig deeper. So deep, in fact, that she finally had to stick her head in too, to find what she was looking for. The sofa next to her dipped down, she heard glass rattling, and finally her hand touched what she was looking for. With a victorious smile, she pulled out one item after the other, and set them all down on the ground beneath her before finally surfacing out of the bag again and putting it aside. She was met with Snape's undoubtedly humoured and slightly defeated expression.

"Of course you have a record player in your bag… Why am I even surprised at this point." He sighed to himself, while Robin went to kneel down on the floor to set the whole thing up.

"You like Queen, don't you?" She grinned up at him, but picked out the according record anyway, without waiting for an answer. Half a minute later the music started floating around them at a moderate volume, even though Robin was rather sure that there were multiple silencing charms placed on the room. Still didn't mean it was necessary that they'd have to shout over the music to talk. Then she moved the entire setup to the nearest wall, thus out of the way, and finally sat down on the sofa again, with her legs crossed like before. "There, now you've got proof that I'm comfortable enough to seize the silence. Better now?"

"Indeed." He nodded, while handing Robin an empty glass. "Even though half of the school would likely consider it a sacrilege to play muggle music inside the castle."

"Oh come on, you can't honestly tell me that they wrote their music without the help of magic!" She grinned in return and traced the edges of the glass with her fingertips. "Besides, I don't remotely care about anyone's opinion on my taste in music. Well, actually I do care about your opinion on mostly everything… Do you mind muggle music?"

"No. I only mind bad music."

"See! Can't argue with good taste." Robin shrugged with a smirk. "Talking about taste, what's with the empty glass?"

"I thought we would continue our experiments from earlier today." The smirk was on his face in an instant, fully mirroring hers for once, even if with a touch more mischief to it. "I have a few more liquors I would like you to try. If by the end of it you still choose to go with firewhisky, I won't lose another word of complaint."

"Alright, sounds fair enough. But you gotta try them with me, yes?"

He held up his own glass while quirking an eyebrow at her in reply, then summoned the first bottle from one of the shelves. Robin couldn't help grinning to herself, then down at her glass. This was going to be a very interesting night, no matter what happened from here on, that much at least was for sure. And quite honestly, she already couldn't wait for whatever was to come.

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This One is Mine, Part 4

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CW: Whump, Pet whump, some wounds mentioned, death mentioned, abuse and withstrains mentioned, this one is a little bit darker, but the next one will be fluffy, I swear <3

I also want to thank the two people who followed me, I love you

   “We’re almost there.” Charles muttered through his teeth, sipping on his drink in hand. Michael kept his head down after finishing his meal. “Is it okay if I ask you a couple of questions?” Charles asked. “Of course, sir.” He nodded.  “How old are you?” He asked.   “20, sir.” He said. It was hard to tell just how old he was, with how malnourished he looked. He was far too thin for his height, and looked utterly exhausted. He had perked up with a small spike of energy after he had eaten, and seemed slightly more comfortable. There was still a long road ahead of them. 

“How long were you there?” He asked.  “I..  um..” He stuttered. His eyes scanned the floor, scattering his thoughts. “I don’t know, sir.” He said guiltily, lowering his head further.

  “A week? A month? Give me a guess, it doesn’t have to be perfect. I would like an idea.” He said.  “Maybe a c-couple of months...” He held his arms defensively. He was still wearing Charles' oversized coat, but he could still get a glance of all the bruises and cuts littering his body every now and then. Miles let out a sad sigh from the driver's seat. 

“All good Miles?” Charles asked.  “Yeah, I uh. I’ll tell you when we get home. We’re about there, sir.” He said. That was never a good sign. He’s known Miles for years, he is his bodyguard, assistant, and best friend all in one. He could tell when he was disturbed. 

He turned back to Michael. “I’m sorry, you must have been through a lot. As I mentioned before, I was not expecting to bring you home today, so we’re going to have to scrounge last second to set some things up for you. I hope that’s alright.” He tried to give a reassuring smile, but he could still tell Michael was petrified with fear. 

“Here we are! Home sweet home.” Miles sang, as he took a sharp turn to a large metal gate. The property was completely surrounded by tall brick walls, decorated with lanterns, with vines and flowers growing down it. The large gate slowly cracked open, as they drove on through. 

Michael kept his eyes low. The panic began brewing, as he realized whatever life was in store for him, was about to begin. As much as he wanted to go outside, into the warm welcoming sun waiting for him, so could a pair of hands, that would drag him into a cell, or under a desk, or cause harm, and agony, and-

  Crack

The door opened on his side, as he cried out as if he had been struck. “Hey! Hey, it’s okay!” Miles panicked. All he had done was open the car door for him. “Charles!” Miles called, worriedly waving him over. Charles appeared behind Miles, as he slowly reached into the car and put a hand on his shoulder. Michael was hunched over, breathing heavy, trembling as he squinted up at him. 

“It’s okay, no one is going to hurt you.” He soothed. Mihcael had forgotten what was going on, and was disorientated by the change of pace, but the heavy arm on his shoulder was usually a sign that everything was okay. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, and the ground was filled with sharp gravel. “Is it okay if I pick you up until we reach the stairs?” He asked. As much as he would rather walk, he didn’t want to say no to the man, so he silently nodded. 

“Alright, up we go.” He smiled, He placed a hand gently around his back, and one arm under his knees, and hoisted him up in bridal style. Michael hissed in discomfort, and immediately latched onto Charles' neck.  Shoot... He had forgotten that his back was mangled from his time with Malcolm. Michael had wrapped his arms around Charles neck, and nudged his face into the crook of his neck, as he bit down his whimpers. Charles moved his hand higher so it was more comfortable, and quickly set his bare feet at the stairs. “I’m so sorry.” He muttered apologetically, as he gently set him down. “I-I’m okay.” He muttered back, adjusting the heavy coat wrapped around him. "I'll get a doctor to look you over soon, I promise." He assured. 

A doctor? Why would he care if he was oka- He looked up at the house, and his breath was knocked out of him again.

It was a mansion. Large steps leading up to the decorative wooden carved door, roof so tall you felt like falling backwards if you looked up as high, white pillars decorating the front porch. He could hear a powerful fountain behind him by the car. The walls that surrounded the property had hedges lining the inside, with elegant trees that looked well kept, trimmed, and healthy. 

“I know what you’re thinking, it’s sooo rural.” Charles laughed, standing behind and draping his arms around his shoulders. 

“It’s... It’s unreal.” He muttered.  

“Not surprising, Charles designed it.” Miles smiled proudly.

“I did not! Miles helped me, I just told him I wanted something nice, and this is what he comes up with.” He laughed. 

Michael was speechless, as Charles took his arm and led him up the stairs. The large doors swung open, as a woman pushed both doors open with her arms stretched out.   “Charles! Oh thank goodness, you have no ide-” She stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed the young boy by Charles' side, who slowly slunk behind him as best he could. She had long blond hair,  and was well dressed in a dark fancy suit jacket.

 “You... You actually got one.” She muttered, mind as blank as a sheet. 

“LIEM! CHARLES GOT A PET!” She turned her head and yelled into the house.

“WHAT?” A man shrieked back. Scrambling could be heard from inside the house, as a head poked out from the door. 

“Charles! You didn’t actually get one, did yo-" Charles cut him off, "No! all of you back inside the house, right now.” He commanded, pointing back into the house. They both went silent, as the women slowly took a single step back into the house.

“Give us the living room, he needs some space. Mia, please go with Liam upstairs and set up that guest room for me please, not a peep until I come get you, okay?” He asked. Mia sighed with disappointment. “Of course, sir.” She bowed politely, then scrambled back into the house, grabbing Liam’s arm as they excitedly muttered to each along the way. 

Charles reached behind him, and took Michael’s arm, who had fully squirmed his way behind him, and was gripping his shirt tightly with his face pressed into his back.

“Sorry about that, you can come on out now.” He coaxed him out.

He took his arm around his shoulder and pulled to stand next to him. He just shuffled his way to whatever direction he was guided to. He walked him into the house into a living room that was just as breathtaking as the outside. A soft cream carpet covered the floor, large chairs and couches surrounded a decorated small coffee table in the middle of the room, above it was a silver leaf chandelier that dimly lit the room. As pretty as it was, it gave him an uneasy feeling. A massive fireplace sat behind the table, with a shelf above it decorated with candles, golden owl sculptures, and a giant floral painting hanging above it. There were large stairs that curved along the wall onto a balcony with hallways and endless doors.

His first instinct was where his corner might be. Under the coffee table? The floor was carpeted, it would be nicer on his knees, rather than the hard cement surface he was used to. Or maybe there was a cell, or a cage for him deep within the endless mansion. A gentle hand directed him to the couch. He obeyed, and sat down at the long, plush floral couch. “I’m going to try and find some clothes your size. Just relax here for two minuets.” He smiled at him, and placed a gentle hand in his hair. “Miles, you’re a bit more his size, do you mind showing me your closet?” Charles asked. “Of course!” Miles smiled.

Michael starred in his direction with a concerned expression as they walked off. Wait, just like that? He was being left unsupervised? Where were the withstrains? The threats whispered in his ear to behave, or else? He was left alone without any instructions on how to behave, as he pulled the coat around him tightly. He was exhausted, as he closed his eyes for just a second...

“Yeah! This will do, thanks Miles. I’ll get him his own clothes at some point, but for today, he just needs to get cleaned up, and rested.” Charles smiled, holding a folded pair of fresh clothes. “When do you think we’ll get a chance to talk?” Miles asked. He slowly followed Charles back down to the living room.  “When he falls asleep I suppose, how serious is it?” He asked. “Well, it’s not an emergency, but it’s something that might help you out in dealing with him. Speaking of which... How are you going to deal with him? Do you have the time to actually work with him, and take care of him?” He asked. Charles sighed in response. “Not really, but I work from home, aside from the business meetings, but I’ll do my best. I wonder if I can get him to bond with Mia, and she can help out.” He said. They entered the living room, and both men froze. 

Michael was completely passed out on the couch, with the coat tucked around him. 

“Well um... I guess we get to talk after all.” Charles whispered. He crept up, and silently placed the folded clothes on the table.  “Into the kitchen, I could use a drink after today.” He whispered, sneaking back to Miles, as they left him to his rest.

Miles poured them both a drink, as set it at the small table in the kitchen. It was more of a small bar then anything, but moving into the diner room felt a bit over the top. 

“Remember that tour guy who showed us around Malcolm’s factory? Well I got to talk to him for a bit while you were getting Michael situated.” Miles took a moment to take a deep breath, swirling the drink in his hand. 

“I asked him about what it meant to be Malcolm’s favorite. And it uh... It’s not good.” He shivered. Charles stayed silent, and listened.

“Every month or so, he fixated on one of the slaves. He “adopts” them in a way, and keeps them with him at all times. When I heard that, I knew something was up. Why every month? What happened to all the old favorites?... So I asked the old man where they were.”  Before Miles could continue, Charles took a deep breath, and then a drink.

“He said they all died.” 

Charles stopped mid drink, before continuing. 

"How." 

"He obsesses over them, training them like a project, making them behave perfectly in his eyes. I think he just goes in over his head sometimes, and beats them to death, then he copes with their death by fixating on another one." Miles explained. "He uh.. He had Michael for a little over a month now. After seeing how Malcolm reacted when he came back, I... I think you saved his life, sir." 

Charles took a shaky deep breath. He was angry. He had done his best to stay away from the Pet industry, but he never knew it could get that bad. Sure, his own hands were dirty, but it was never inhuman. 

"He's going to try. He's going to try and take him back. I know it." Charles muttered. 

"But that kid... Is mine, now." He growled.

"He's mine."

Doomed | Part Three

Masterpost

A/N: Please forgive me! This took forever and I don’t even know if I really like the way it turned out ): But nevertheless, I’m excited about continuing this series and I wanted to say thank you for all your support!

Tag List: @imgrullas @beautycinders @maggiescarborough @lovemissyhoneybee @ellaestloved @swweett-insanityyy @peaky-fookin-blinders-addict @writeroutoftime @namelesslosers @elisabethisdead @amirahiddleston @sinfulshelbys @yoheyyosup @asianbuttcheek  @curlyhairedblueeyedangel @wnygirl2012 @multi-fandom-iimagines

Pairing: Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2812

Type: fluff, swearing

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was hard ignoring the happenings surrounding your family. You heard about Mrs. Ross, the mother of the boy Arthur had beaten to death as a result of an absentminded episode, visiting Tommy in his office. She’d apparently invited your eldest brother over to her place. She tried to cover it up as an act of peace-making, not exactly forgiveness, but a thank-you to the Shelby family for helping her and her children get by. It would’ve been her son’s twenty-first birthday. But Tommy knew it was all a setup, immediately suspecting the Changrettas being involved. There had been no sign of willingness to work towards truce in her eyes. They were still covered in anger and hatred and utter, utter disgust towards your family. Especially towards Arthur.

You’d always disliked thinking back to that day. As much as you loved your broken brother, you knew that there had always been something truly wrong with him. Showing clearly, almost too clearly, that he did not have control over his thoughts, his actions. Himself. Even though you did not blame him for what had happened, you still never understood what made everybody brush it off, as if it were nothing. Arthur had serious issues, but none of which were dared to be spoken about in the Shelby household.

You caught up on bits and pieces of Tommy’s plan after accepting Mrs. Ross’s offer and letting her know, that Arthur would be there at said date and time. How they would place themselves all around Artillery Square, covering every corner with men holding guns. Including Finn.

Finn, who finally got involved the way he wanted to be involved. Or did he? It was hard for you to tell. You’d tried talking to him about the matter multiple times, but you realised, that he just wasn’t comfortable talking to a sister about that. A woman in general. And as much it hurt, you had to accept the fact that he didn’t want to open up about it to you. Hoping, he would at least let you know if he’d ever felt unhappy.

The betting shop was as busy as always. While your brothers, Charlie, Johnny Dogs and Isaiah were backing up Arthur on his suspicious visit at Mrs. Ross’s, you, Lizzie and Polly were occupied with bets and even more bets coming in. Business was running smoothly. The way it should.

It was difficult for you to concentrate on working and worrying about what was going down at Artillery Square at the same time. If Tommy had been right about his guess. If his plan works out. If it perhaps meant the end to this horrible vendetta? The end to all of this? The end of having to stay with your family? Making it possible for you to finally distance yourself from the business and the negativity? But you knew, it sounded too good. Too good to be true. There wasn’t a chance this mess would be over so fast.

The hours went by painfully slow. You caught yourself watching the pendulum of the clock one too many times. Back and forth. And from time to time, Polly sent you a strict glance, pulling you out of your thoughts and into work again.

While you were writing down some numbers into the book on your desk in front of you, you suddenly heard the front door burst open. It slammed against the wall and Tommy’s figure appeared in the shop. Your head shot up from the ink-covered pages, eyeing your brother closely. Something was off. He seemed upset, stressed.

“Oi! Get out,” Tommy ordered, sending the worker out of the office within the cell bars. The man promptly obeyed, removing himself. You watched Tommy go around the table and sit down on the chair, grabbing the telephone. The receiver quickly made its way to Tommy’s ear and his lips mouthed the address of the recipient of his call.

Your eyes scanned the betting shop. Polly seemed busy on the phone and Lizzie was nowhere to be seen. So, you decided to move a little closer to Tommy’s conversation. You could sense that something had gone wrong. At least not as planned. And you were worried for Finn. Like always. You were always worried for your little brother.

“Charlie. Listen, Bonnie Gold will be calling you in four minutes. Tell him the Italians are on the road south.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you heard Bonnie’s name. That meant the Golds had to be involved again. What was going on? Was Arthur okay? Did the Italians perhaps outsmart Tommy?

As much as the situation concerned you, you had to internally chuckle at the thought of Tommy being outsmarted. That must hurt your proud, self-convinced brother. A lot. The one that thought so highly of himself, so sure of every plan he placed out in his head.

“A Rolls-Royce, maybe two. Black. Tell him to expect a full complement of men. We inflicted no casualties.”

A pause. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut in apparent annoyance by something Charlie said. “I said we inflicted no fucking casualties.”

And with that, he hung up, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Then he let out a deep sigh.

Before you had the chance to sneak back to your workplace, Tommy had already opened his eyelids again and you could feel his cold stare on you.

“Is there something you want to ask me, Y/N?”

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Are Arthur and Finn alright?”

Tommy gave the bridge of his nose a short massage before answering your question. “They’re both fine.”

You gritted your teeth, already regretting the next question you were about to ask. You knew you were treading onto dangerous territory with Tommy currently being so tense, but you couldn’t hold back the words rolling off your tongue. “What the fuck happened, Tom?”

“Since when do you–“

“Can we please skip that?” you hissed, cutting him off impolitely. “I’ll be gone after all of this is over, but until then, I want to know what’s going on.”

You heard Tommy gulp audibly. “Arthur was never the target.”

“So, who was?” you frowned, your bottom lip slipping in between your teeth, encouraging your bad habit of nervous lip-chewing.

“Michael.”

Your eyes went wide and your teeth let go of your lip, letting your mouth fall agape. “I– Is he okay?”

“Yeah, but now we’re trying to get ahead of them.”

“Is that why you called the Golds for help?”

He nodded. “We’re trying to get a hold of them before they get away.”

You felt your chest relax. Knowing that everybody was safe and alive made your worries vanish. But there was still a hint of discomfort settled in the pit of your stomach. And you knew exactly who to blame this feeling of discomfort on. Bonnie. That pretty, polite, flirty Gold boy. With his stupid dark curls and his stupid gorgeous eyes. You let out a groan, convinced about it being silent enough to be overheard.

Of course, Tommy caught up on it. “Nothing’s going to happen to him, stop being concerned.”

“Hm?” you hummed, confused about what your brother tried to say to you.

“Bonnie. Nothing’s going to happen to the kid.”

You let out a huff. “It’s going to take a lot for me to just trust your words like that again, Tommy.”

Tommy moistened his lips by darting out his tongue for a quick second. His eyes were drilling holes into your skin, but you didn’t let him intimidate you. You were his little sister, family, not his enemy and his tries to frighten you with his manner made you lose your respect for him more and more. He didn’t own you. He didn’t control your thoughts. And unfortunate for him, they were very different to his own. And because you all needed to work together, being in the middle of this vendetta, he had to learn to accept you. Stubbornness, independence and all that came with it.

“I’d like to see Bonnie when the job is finished. Just to make sure you held your word.”

“You’re being–“

“Reasonable. I’m being reasonable, Tom. And if you’re not letting me see him, you’re once again taking a step further away from me having faith in you.”

Tommy closed his mouth shut, sending you another stiff nod. Then, he fished out his cigarette case, revealing a smoke. He placed it between his lips and lit the end with a match. “In that case, I’ll see you later Y/N.”

You nodded at your brother and watched him leave the betting shop in a hurry, face stern, cigarette in hand.

It was late when Tommy came back to the betting shop to pick you up. You had refused to go home with Polly after work was finished for the day, wanting and needing some time alone. It had been incredibly noisy in the shop that day and you craved some peace and quiet, knowing very well that you wouldn’t be getting that if you joined Polly.

Tommy made you follow him to Charlie’s yard, but insisted you’d wait outside in front of the stables until after his conversation with Aberama. “Nothing that should be any of your concern.”

He’d slipped into the barn fast enough to escape another one of your snarky, but very much valid comments about you having the right to know what was going on with the Italians. You let out a groan and leaned against a wooden pillar, listening to the water ripple against the boats down in the canal.

It didn’t take long until Tommy returned. “He’s all yours.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment. “Your facial expression doesn’t look as if Luca Changretta was taken down.”

“That’s nothing for you to worry about, Y/N. I’ve got everything under control,” he answered, taking a deep drag from his almost burnt-out cigarette.

“I never said anything about being worried,” you stated, pushing yourself away from the pillar. Tommy sighed at your remark, threw the rest of his smoke on the ground and stepped on it with the tip of his shoe. “What do you hope to gain from getting close to Bonnie?”

“I’m not hoping for anything, Tommy.”

He chuckled sarcastically. “He’s not the hero you’re searching for. You know nobody’s going to look out more and better for you than your own family.”

You gave your brother an annoyed glance. “Why are you constantly up in my business?”

“I could ask you the same.”

You let out another angry groan. “Fine. If I stop asking you questions about Luca Changretta, will you quit having an opinion about my relationship with Bonnie?”

He just shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”

And then, he turned around and took off. With each step, the gravel crunched loudly beneath his soles. Your eyes followed him while sucking in the air through your gritted teeth, trying to calm yourself down. Tommy really had a talent of pushing your buttons.

“Y/N?”

Your felt your heart skip a beat and reflexively raised your hand to your chest. “God!”

“Sorry,” Bonnie grinned, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

You gave him a gentle, playful push, which made his grin turn into a laugh. “You want to fight me?”

He swiftly grabbed both your wrists, restraining you. You desperately tried to twist them out of his grip, but you already knew it was impossible. Eventually, you let out a defeated giggle. “Okay, okay. I give up.”

He winked down at you, letting your arms go. “So, tell me. What brings you out here this late?”

You sent him a smile and nervously pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Wanted to make sure you were okay. And alive.”

He chuckled and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Why shouldn’t I be alive?”

“I knew about Tommy sending your men after the Italians,” you told him. “Because as clever as my brother thinks he is, he didn’t realise who Changretta’s real target was.”

Bonnie noticed the poisonous tone in your voice and took one of his hands out of his pockets, placing it on your shoulder. “Do you think you and your brother will ever get along in a way that’s healthy for both of you?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know …”

“I would love to see your relationship improve after all of this is over,” he said, giving you a warm smile. His pretty hazel eyes had a little sparkle in them, making you hold your breath for a split second.

“I’m confident it’ll get better,” he assured, the confidence in his voice almost convincing you. Then, he let your shoulder go and his hand returned to the pocket.

“Did you kill somebody today?”

Your question seemed to have surprised Bonnie. “Would it be a problem if I have?”

You shook your head. “No, not at all. I’m just curious.”

“We shot two men.”

We. He avoided your question. But you accepted his answer. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Even if it’s not the end yet.”

“And if you continue being so concerned for my safety, I’m sure nothing will ever happen to me,” he chuckled. You felt your cheeks heat up as a reaction to his teasing comment.

“I’m just being nice,” you tried defending yourself, a nervous giggle escaping your throat.

“And I’m just trying to flirt,” Bonnie admitted, tilting his head slightly, “Once again.”

Bonnie was a man who gave off the impression of being very innocent, but every now and then he let something slip out of his mouth proving the complete opposite. And that was exactly what made him so interesting.

You must have been silent for a moment, caught in your thoughts, because suddenly Bonnie’s worried voice sounded in your ears. “I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No!” you exclaimed quickly. “No, not at all. Please don’t think that!”

“Oh, good,” Bonnie sighed relieved. “Would not have been the first time that my weak flirting skills scared a girl off.”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “How could somebody not like you?”

“Girls with a better taste in men perhaps?”

“Are you telling me my taste in men is bad?”

“Are you telling me you like me?”

You tried to think of a witty reply, but your mouth just stayed open without any words coming out. And you were positive that you looked ridiculous.

Bonnie took a small step forwards, towering over you. “You look adorable with your jaw dropped like that.”

Your teeth made an audible clicking sound when you shut your mouth promptly in reaction to his confession. Your eyes scanned his beautiful features, completely in awe by his sudden boldness.

You knew it was stupid. Stupid to let your heart flutter at the sound of his voice, at the spark in his piercing orbs, at the scent he carried, reminding you of pleasant evenings around a bonfire. It was stupid of you constantly trying to be close to him. Finding reasons to cross his path. You were in a time of uncertainty and danger. Death was lurking behind every corner. Carelessness could lead to the passing of way more people than just yourself. And as much as you hated being unwillingly involved in Tommy’s business, all you wanted was your family to be safe. And alive.

But Bonnie was just so … captivating. The thought of having him around made your days pass quicker, easier. The frustrating conversations you had had with Tommy that day weren’t so frustrating anymore and the constant weight of John’s passing didn’t feel as heavy.

“C– Can I kiss you?”

The words slowly rolled over his lips. Almost a whisper. A hesitant question.

Your gaze fell onto his beautiful face. You noticed him lift his hand and place it on your cheek delicately. Reminding yourself that you’ve still not reacted to his question, you nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. Which made him let out a sweet chuckle.

“Thank god,” he said, making you smile widely before leaning down and pressing his lips onto yours.

No matter how many times your mind tried to tell you how stupid this was, there was nothing that could hold you back. Hold you back from falling. Falling so hard and so deep. It felt as if he was giving you the air you needed to breathe. As if he was saving you from a wild current that would have pulled you under, drowned you, sooner or later.

Eventually, you would realise that your mind had been right all along. That listening to your heart was never a good idea.

But right then and there, your heart was stronger than your mind. Right then and there, everything was fine.

if i knew you were comin’

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship/AU: ashton irwin/reader, baker AU  prompt: “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do.”  wordcount: 3344 warnings: swearing a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (in which we all chose from a list of AU’s and had the above prompt quote to include - check out the masterlist linked to see everyone elses!) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘if i knew you were comin' i'd've baked a cake’ by eileen barton  if i knew you were comin’ ***

It would have been a real cliché had it been pouring with rain, the first time you saw him. If an unexpected thunderstorm in June had sent you into the little hipster bakery by necessity, a beacon of shelter in the form of a black & white sign that said ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. As it was, you were simply hungry in the rich sunshine, miles from home, and a sucker for bagels. That wasn’t very rom-com, really. 

The cliché came in when you saw him for the first time; laugh bright on his face, flour in his pillar box red hair. You felt every love-at-first-sight trope possible in that moment; brass band playing, lightning striking, arrows piercing. 

But it was raining now - slowly but with determination from the grey September sky - and you felt it, still.

***

The old fashioned bell above the heavy door rang out as you pushed your way into the bakery, immediately feeling enveloped in warmth. You shook off the excess water pooling on your umbrella out of the open door before you let it close as gently as possible behind you, spinning back around to assess the scene before you.

The shop was an assault on the senses every time you visited; the smell of 50 different baked goods intermingling and somehow achieving a harmony in your nose, the sound of the eclectic playlist they kept adding to filling the shop, and the assault on the eyes came in the form of bright hanging lights, extensive art on the walls, and the staff themselves.  

“Hello, you! Get in here; it’s horrible out there!”

You smiled widely, genuinely, at the greeting. “Hey, Calum! How are you?” You replied, stepping up to the counter. Calum ran his hand over his very short blonde hair with a smile that you were sure accounted for at least 25% of their sales. Not that you’d know; only one of the co-owners kept you spending more than you could really afford on focaccia bread, and he was nowhere to be seen.

“Can’t complain, real-well, actually, I can,” Calum changed his mind mid-sentence, face growing indignant. “Ash went to drop the banking off at Natwest 30 minutes ago, and Luke was due 5 minutes before you walked in, and I’m dying for a piss, and I-” The bell above the door shook like a hurricane had just come through the door, and in the form of a 6’2” blonde streak of limbs, it kind of had. “Sorry, sorry, I’m he-woah!” Luke skidded across the shiny white floor on his damp black Converse, windmilling his long arms until he caught one of only three tables in the place, and brought himself to a jolting stop. 

Calum rolled his eyes. “This fucken’ guy.” He muttered, but you could see the fondness painted all over his golden brown face. “Luke, I need to pee; look after our best customer for me!” Calum bolted out from behind the counter, showing off his black tank top and pinstriped trousers as he pulled his black branded apron off on his way to the door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’ across the shop. You could hear his Doc Martens squeaking on the tiles as he disappeared through the door and Luke took his place behind the counter, chucking his backpack through the archway that attached the shop to the bakery’s kitchen.  “Ooh, Ashton won’t like finding your backpack in his kitchen when he gets back!” You tease, leaning onto the ledge that separates you from Luke. The absent baker was very particular about his immaculate commercial kitchen and everything in it, and you knew something would definitely be said about the fact that Luke’s wet backpack was now lying on the floor by the ovens. Calum had once told you about a time he had simply moved Ashton’s sourdough starter across the kitchen, and the incident that had followed (and lasted for three days). “Ooh, won’t he!” Luke cooed, tying his own D&S Bakehouse apron with a messy bow on his stomach. “You’d know, being our resident Ashton expert and all.” You felt the flush begin to bloom on your cheeks before you saw it reflected in Luke’s stupid stainless steel coffee machine. You stuck your chin out as defiantly as possible. “I don’t know what that means, and I also don’t care. I’d like a Flat White, please, barista!”  Luke clutched his chest with a large hand, gasping dramatically. “So harsh! My own job title! You missed ‘Retail Assistant’ and ‘Shop Hunk’, but I’ll forgive you because I know you’re having Ashton withdrawals right now. Haven’t seen you since last week, kiddo!” Opting to ignore his needling about the Ashton situation, you set your own backpack on the floor as you let out a sigh. “Yeah, it’s been a bit chaotic this week. But I said I’d try and come by today, and I can’t live without Calum’s doughnuts much longer, so here I am.” “Yeah, that’s definitely what you can’t live without.” Luke snorted, filling the portafilter with coffee grounds. The staff door swung open before you could respond, Calum sailing back into the bakery. “Does he come with an off switch?” You groaned, shaking your head at the bottle blonde as he laughed and groaned with you. “God, if he did, I’d use it so often he’d never be ‘on’.” “You love me, they love me, everybody loves me!” Luke sang at volume as the coffee machine began to grind and whir. Calum rolled his eyes as he shut the door to the counter. “The girls from the high school down the street love you, I’ll give you that, but that’s about it.”   “The boys, too.” Luke wiggled his eyebrows at you ridiculously, tapping the used coffee grounds into the bin with a flourish. You couldn’t help but giggle; you’d grown so fond of Luke and Calum in the three months you’d been visiting the bakery that you considered them friends. And as you started examining the case in front of you, filled with the most delicious looking cakes, pastries and doughnuts you’d ever seen, you thought that surely friends with access to coffee and baked goods were the best friends to have. “What are you thinking, love?” Calum asked, watching your eyes flick between peanut butter brownies and cinnamon rolls.  “I don’t know; everything always looks so good!” You whined. “I think I’m definitely in the mood for something sweet, though.” “I’m right here, baby!” Luke trilled as he placed a steaming cup on the counter, looking very pleased with himself. “Do I need to tell Michael about this flirty behaviour, Luke?” Calum teased. Luke shrugged, completely nonplussed. “If you want. He’s so hot when he gets jealous.” Calum rolled his eyes again as he made his way into the kitchen. “Luke, move your backpack before Ash gets back unless you want to get bollocked!” He called over his shoulder. “Uh oh, too late.” Luke groaned, looking past you through the glass of the shop front, moments before the shop bell sounded out for a third time. You would definitely play it cool and not turn around if it was anyone but Ashton; you swear, this man is actually magnetic. The Hall & Oates’ song coming from the speakers seems to slow down as he comes into your line of sight, like in every movie you’ve ever seen with a leading man half as gorgeous as this one. Ashton was wearing his signature black boots and ripped jeans, with a white tank top and the leather jacket that you were sure would smell just like him; flour, grapefruit, sandalwood and whatever he used to put his hair into any of the styles that drove you so crazy. Today he had that one styled curl falling onto his face, and right now it was soaked and sending a trail of water down to drop from his chiseled jaw.  “You took your time, bread boy.” Calum called from the kitchen, doing Luke a solid of hiding his backpack underneath the furthermost kitchen counter as he did. Ashton huffed out half a laugh, running both hands through his wet hair and bending forward to shake it off as much as he could. “I don’t even only bake bread! Why do you insist on calling me that? Especially in front of my favourite customer.”  Despite knowing that you were currently the only customer in the bakery, your brain immediately began questioning whether or not he was referring to you. Then, he straightened up with his arms high, hands slicking his red hair back, and looked straight at you with unwavering eye contact. “Hey.”  That one word, combined with those eyes and him looking like he was in 2020’s answer to a Whitesnake video dragged your heart straight into your throat.  “Hey.” You echoed, hoping you were imagining the slightly breathless quality to your voice. Ashton’s serious-supermodel face broke into his brightest smile - seemingly just for you - before he began to stride past you to head behind the counter, shrugging his wet jacket off as he went. “I see you’re sorted with a drink; what have you chosen to eat? Or is this a flying visit?” “I was just doing my usual, actually.” You replied, dragging your eyes away from the tattoos on his arms to glance back down at the many glass cases of treats. “Struggling to decide?” Ashton teased lightly, tying his apron strings into a bow at his waist. You giggled, feeling inordinately pleased that he knew exactly what you meant. “Well, my lattices should be cool by now. Cal?” Ashton called into the kitchen, where the sound of stand mixers could now be heard. You hadn’t even noticed Calum leaving the shop to bake in the back. As you realised Luke was also nowhere to be seen, the assistants’ head appeared from the side of the archway. “Calum says he is a very busy man and he thought you had things under control out here.” You frowned slightly, not understanding the inflection the blonde had put on ‘under control’. Must be a private joke; one that made Ashton steadily flush down his neck. “Shut up, Luke! I just want the top tray on the cooling rack by the main pantry, please.” Luke tapped his head with two fingers in an ‘aye aye, Captain’ gesture and momentarily vanished from view. Ashton cleared his throat, directing his words back to you. “I thought you said you were going to try and come by today. I made Cherry & Custard Lattices earlier; you love cherry, right?” You didn’t know what to say, so opted to just stare back at Ashton in surprise until you saw doubt in his eyes. “Yes! I did, say that, and I do - love cherry. You remembered that?” The smile on your face felt like it was spread impossibly wide, over your cheeks and beyond.  “Of course! I’m glad you’re here, actually…” “Here you go!” Luke said, sounding almost gleeful as he put the tray of pastries on the worktop behind Ashton. Normally, you would expect Luke to arrange them in a space in one of the cabinets and carefully handwrite a little sign for them, but not today, apparently. He was already taking strides back to the kitchen to help Calum, throwing you both a look over his shoulder that was definitely cheeky. “Go get ‘em, tiger!” Ashton went so unbelievably red that it made his flush from before look like his natural skin tone. For lack of something to do with yourself in a confusing, slightly awkward situation that you didn’t fully understand, you picked up the coffee Luke had made for you and took a small sip. Ashton took a breath and seemed to steel himself for something. “I’ve got something to ask you.” He cocked his head slightly to one side before taking a slightly wistful tone. “Do you remember the day we met?” *** You looked up at the stark sign above the world’s most appetising window display. ‘Dagger & Snake Bakehouse’. It was a little after your usual lunchtime and you were starving. You’d never been to this place before, but you could see slices of puff pastry topped with everything you could imagine; asparagus, pesto, goats cheese, tomatoes, bacon, mushrooms - all topped with melted cheese, so that was that. You made your way through the glossy black door into the bakery, and were struck by how cool it looked inside. The main walls were exposed brick painted white, covered with a broad range of paintings, posters, sketches, photographs and signs. Black boards covered in white chalk writing detailing baked goods and hot drinks, opening hours and little doodles. Shelves with all manner of trinkets and decorations adorned any parts of the walls that there wasn’t something else. Sleek white tiles covered the floor, counters and the walls leading off to the restrooms and a door marked ‘STAFF ONLY’. There were ferns and succulents dotted around the place, and recycled glass bottles on a few black cafe tables with a single red rose in each. There were cases and displays of every kind of baked good you could imagine at the counter, running along the windows, and high above the worktops behind the counter. Stevie Wonder segued into Fleetwood Mac over the speakers in the corners,audible above the babble of noise of the customers already in the bakery.  A couple at the farthest table were tucking into big slices of two of the most incredible looking cakes you had ever seen in your life. At the till, a girl with a high ponytail and tiny denim shorts was taking a branded pastry box from a tall, skinny-but-somehow-broad guy. Another man with a black hat pulled low on his head brushed his fluffy blonde hair out of his eyes where he sat at one of the tables opposite the counter. He shot the staff member a beaming smile and a thumbs up, then returned his attention to the laptop open on his table. You eagerly made your way forward as the girl with the ponytail began to exit the shop. “Hi! I’m Luke, welcome to Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. What can I get for you?” The worker - Luke - greeted you enthusiastically with a toothy smile. His smile faltered slightly when you asked for an iced coffee to go with your lunch, but before you could think about it, he sprang into action as a second man appeared from an archway beside him, mid laugh. You divert your attention to the newcomer and your heart skips way more than a beat. He was, without question, the most beautiful human you had ever seen in your life. He was tall - though not as tall as Luke, but twice as broad. The muscles in his arms bulged through his t-shirt, and you could see tattoos on his arms and wrists. His hair was in a perfect quiff, and the brightest shade of red you could imagine. You noticed what appeared to be flour speckled across the top of it, and melted slightly more. His face was a set of perfect, sharp angles contrasting with the soft dimples in his cheeks as he laughed. You had never been so aware of every molecule of your own body. You felt tingly and numb and on high alert all at once. The urge to lick your lips was suddenly overwhelming. “How are you getting on, Luke? Did I hear an iced coffee order over Calum’s shenanigans back there?” His voice was like hearing a song on the radio that you haven’t heard in ages but always loved. Luke shook his head and played it cool, whilst the love of your life turned to you with a warm smile. “It’s Luke’s first day! Go easy on him. How is he doing?”  “Ashton! I know exactly what I am doing!” Luke sniffed, opening a cabinet door that turns out to be a freezer drawer and scooping ice with confidence. Ashton giggled again and held his hands up in surrender, shooting you another smile before heading around Luke and out onto the bakery floor. You unconsciously followed him with your eyes, across the room to the window cabinets where he began making adjustments to the display. He had to bend and lean to reach the very front, and after allowing yourself a few seconds to stare at his ass in tight, black jeans, you came to your senses and reluctantly diverted your eyes back to the counter. Luke leant conspiratorially towards the counter and you unconsciously mirrored his movement before he began to whisper to you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing.” He laughed as he straightened back up and steadied the coffee cup in his hand before continuing in an airy, cheerful voice. “I almost never do!” “I’m sure it’ll be great, don’t worry!” You reassured, casting an eye over the blender Luke was working with now. You were sure it would be. Probably. Your eyes traced the white printed branding that adorned the apron on Luke’s chest; a traditional tattoo style dagger and snake.  “Why Dagger & Snake?” “Oh, that’s a question for one of the bossmen! Ashton!” Luke called across the shop. “Yeah?” You jumped at the voice that came from right behind you, spinning around and coming face to face with Ashton wiping his hands on his apron. “Sorry!” Ashton apologised. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” A soft, genuine smile played on his lips as you took in just how hazel his eyes were. You felt like you’d just walked up a flight of 200 stairs. “The lady would like to know why you and Cal named this place Dagger & Snake Bakehouse. Oh, balls.” Something hit the floor behind you, but you paid it no mind as Ashton’s face lit up. “They go together, to mean a bunch of stuff, right? Kept seeing them at tattoo shops, together. They can symbolise healing, the Roman god of luck, good vs evil; loads of cool stuff. But always together; that’s me and Cal - Calum, my best friend, we own this place, 50/50. He got the dagger, I got the snake. Brothers, forever.” Ashton talked with such conviction, and pulled his t-shirt sleeve with enthusiasm as he held his arm out to you, showing you a stark black tattoo of a snake. “That’s so sweet.” You breathed out, without really thinking about it. He looked at you like he hadn’t expected that adjective, but like he was turning it over in his mind. “And cool!” you added, nodding slightly. “You think so?” Ashton smiled, pulling his sleeve back down, looking quietly pleased. You let a few seconds tick by in silence, looking into his eyes to see what you could see. It looked like the whole world. “Yeah, I do.”

***

“Um...I think so, yes.” You thought you were just about straddling the line between casual and so-nervous-you-could-honestly-throw-up-a-little. “I wanted to ask you this that day, but I thought I’d sound so creepy, and unprofessional, and I didn’t want you to think I was a freak, or that I did this all the time, but-” Unless you were projecting, Ashton looked as nervous as you felt. “Ashton, point! Get there!” Luke yelled gleefully from the kitchen, followed immediately by a sound that you were fairly certain was Calum smacking him upside the head. The yelp of ‘Ow!’ that followed it seemed to confirm your suspicions.  Ashton faltered slightly, looking embarrassed and mumbling something about ‘idiot’ and ‘fired’. “Ashton.” You reached out your hand and placed it on his where he was nervously drumming on the counter again before you even thought about it. You weren’t sure which of you was more surprised at your involuntary action.  Ashton raised his eyes back to you, peering at you with hope in his hazel eyes.“You think I could get your number? Take you out sometime?” You allowed yourself to smile, widely, genuinely, as you knew just how to answer. “Yeah, I do.” *** masterlist for the 5sos ficwriters collab  • my masterlist

This was inspired by some info about class trips on the discord server last night.  See the link above to read on AO3. This is fluffy fluff!

Warnings for canon-compliant implied underage sexual behavior, some homophobia.

***

Michael?”

“Yeah, Mr. G?”

Mr. G glances around almost nervously. “You sure you’re okay rooming with Alex for the whole trip?”

Michael frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Mr. G swallows hard, clearly flustered. “Er, no reason.” Shakes his head a bit. “I’m just glad we’ve got all the room assignments settled now.”

Michael shrugs.

“Alright,” says Mr. G, clapping his hands together. “If at any point you need to make a change or anything, just let me know. We’ve got an odd number of boys, and David Ramirez is in a single right now, so that’s always an option.”

Michael has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine.” More than fine, if things go according to plan.

“Good, good,” murmurs Mr. G.

***

“No leaving the room after 8pm. At 8pm,” Mrs. Carlson says, looking stern, “we tape the outside of the doors. If your tape is broken, you are gone. It’s a six hour round trip between Roswell and Santa Fe, and I don’t think any of your parents want to do that.”

Mr. G nods in solidarity. “No drinking. No smoking. No weed. No drugs of any kind! And absolutely no sneaking out the windows or trying to use the balconies to get from room to room. Also, no using the pool after hours...”

Michael tunes out, eyes Alex. It’s been a week. A week since Alex tried to kiss him in the shed and Michael freaked the fuck out. He’s thought about it nonstop, turned over about a million redemptive possibilities in his head - talk to him at school, hope he enters the tool shed again some evening, go see him at the UFO Emporium where he works...

But then he remembered this trip, and everything’s actually falling into place. He, he can’t avoid him if they’re sharing a room - right?

“I’m going to hand out your key cards now,” Mr. G says, so serious. “And I want you to remember - whoever you are rooming with, that is your buddy! Your guy!”

“Or girl,” Mrs. Carlson adds.

His guy, huh? Michael looks at Alex, slunk against a pillar in the back of the lobby. He looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t want to be here. Well. By the time this trip is over, Michael is hoping Alex won’t want to leave.

“Wherever your buddy goes, you go too, understood?”

No response.

“Understood?” Mrs. Carlson repeats, in a louder, sterner tone.

“Yes,” comes a smattering of voices.

“Excellent,” she says. “We will be passing out itineraries along with your key cards. Couple highlights, though - curfew is 8pm. No one is to leave their room between 8pm and 7am. We will be checking. At 7, we will start knocking on doors, making sure everyone is awake, and we will all meet in the lobby for the breakfast buffet at 7:30. We board the bus at 8:15.”

Michael tries to ignore the rumble in his stomach at the words “breakfast buffet.” His breakfast is usually a sleeve of the cheap peanut butter and cheese crackers that he picks up from the gas station. They’re fairly filling, and they keep forever, even in the back of a truck. The idea of a real breakfast? As much as he wants? The trip would be worth it just for that.

Let alone rooming with Alex Manes.

***

“You boys all settled?” Mr. G asks them.

Alex is sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the window, duffel bag next to him, looking surly.

“All good, Mr. G,” Michael says brightly, with his pluckiest smile.

“Great, Michael!” Mr. G says. He’s the physics teacher and the volleyball coach. Has always liked Michael.

He turns to Alex, frowns. “We gonna be okay, Mr. Manes?”

Alex blows out a short, exasperated breath. Michael feels like he’s missing something.

“There won’t be any trouble? Like on the regional choir trip?”

Michael, who’s studied Alex just as much as he’s studied any academic subject, notices the clenched jaw, the flash of anger.

“That was bull - “ he stops. Shakes his head. “That was a bunch of lies that Ryan made up.”

Mr. G gives a tight little nod. “Takes two to tango, Manes, I get that, but... but just know I’ve got my eyes on you. Definitely don’t want to have to place another call to your father.”

And Michael sees everything - the almost-flinch, the way Alex swallows thickly before replying. “No, sir,” he says in a short, clipped tone. Not, not his usual voice or mannerisms.

Even Mr. G seems to notice that, frowns a little. “Well, okay. And Michael, what we talked about earlier, if you need to make a change...”

Alex is looking at Michael now, eyes narrow. Michael holds out his hands, guileless. “I’m sure Alex and I will be fine for a night or two.” Or fifty. Or, or a hundred...

Alex scoffs a little.

Mr. G softens. “Alright. Well, you’ve got 15 minutes before curfew.”

“Just tape us in now!” Michael says. “I think we’re good for the night.”

Alex regards him with a raised eyebrow.

“Nowhere I’d rather be,” Michael adds.

“Great!” says Mr. G. “Thanks, Michael. Have a good night, guys, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Mr. G!” Michael calls.

The door shuts, and Michael can hear Mr. G, true to his word, taping the door shut.

The irony, Michael thinks, is that it wouldn’t matter. Not for him. He’s good with his powers - easy enough to ease off the tape, put it back with his mind. No one would be the wiser. But he’s wasn’t lying earlier - there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

He turns around, and Alex is still sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed, eyes cast downward.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, maybe sensing Michael’s eyes on him. “You can go room with David if you want.” Alex shrugs. “If it’s weird here with me.”

Michael sits down on his own bed. “I’ve been living with you for two months already.”

Alex’s brow furrows. “That’s not, its not the same. I’m not, like, in the shed with you.”

Michael bites his lip. “You are sometimes.” Decides to be brave and look right at Alex. “The best times.”

Alex’s head whips up. He looks at Michael, questioning. Hopeful?

It fortifies Michael. “Yeah,” he breathes, getting up, going over to Alex’s bed, sitting next to him, so close. “Yeah, Alex.”

He starts to lean in, but Alex leans back, looking tense, eyes darting. “What, what about...” he trails off. “Michael,” he says, sounding so pained.

“I like you, Alex.”

Alex eyes him suspiciously. “Like me?” He exhales shakily. “What, what does that even mean?”

And at that, Michael just goes for it - leans in, into Alex’s space - not too fast. “Means I wanna kiss you, Alex.”

Alex eyes go so wide, and he nods, keeps nodding, even as Michael presses his lips to his.

Michael loves Alex’s shocked little gasp, the way he leans into it...

Doesn’t, doesn’t love the way he quickly pulls back. Looks away.

Alex is frowning, seems to be looking down at the floor, taking in deep breaths.

“Alex?” Michael asks, worried.

The way that Alex responds... doesn’t sound like the Alex Michael knows. “You ever done this before?” he asks, voice tight.

“Um, yeah,” Michael says, almost laughing a little, because - yeah. He’s been doing this since he was 14. But... “But never with, with...”

“With a guy,” Alex says, a little resigned.

“No,” Michael says softly. Lays his hand on Alex’s knee. “And never with someone I’ve liked as much as I like you.”

Alex’s odd detachment vanishes immediately, and he’s looking at Michael in... in wonder. It's wonder, on Alex Manes' face right now. And Michael put it there.

“I want this,” Michael whispers. “Want you.”

***

Knock knock knock.  

They both startle, maybe a little too accustomed to rude awakenings, to the need to be immediately alert and on guard.

“Shit,” Alex mutters into Michael’s shoulder, edge of panic.

“Rise and shine!” comes Mr. G’s voice, way too chipper for 7am.

Michael feels how all of Alex’s muscles have locked up. He rolls over, grips Alex’s hip. “Stay here." He pulls the covers up, up past Alex's bare chest, his shoulders.  "Just like this."

He hops out of the bed, pulls on the closest pair of underwear he finds. They’re Alex’s, he realizes, too late, and it makes him grin. “Coming Mr. G!” he calls, and the knocking stops.

Michael pulls the door open a few inches, hears the tape rip away. Smiles. “Morning!”

Mr. G clocks Michael’s state of undress, seems unfazed. “Morning, Michael. Everything, everything go okay here last night?”

Michael shrugs. “Just fine. Turned in early, actually. Manes here is more of a night owl, go figure. I don’t think he’s really awake yet.”

Mr. G peers past him, looks at Alex “sleeping” in the far bed. Looks at Michael’s bed and frowns slightly.

“You, you already made your bed?”

Shit. “Yeah. I mean, I was up.”

“Um, that’s very nice and all, but it’s a hotel.”

Michael looks at him, uncomprehending. “Okay...?”

Mr. G’s frown deepens. “Have, have you ever stayed in a hotel, Michael?”

Michael shakes his head, and Mr. G suddenly looks almost sad.

“Oh. Well. Um, there are housekeepers. At hotels. They make your bed for you.”

Michael scoffs a little, genuinely surprised. “For real?”

“Yeah,” says Mr. G. He swallows, musters up a little smile. “No worries though. I appreciate you boys following the rules last night. Now,” he says, “can you be a good buddy to Mr. Manes here and make sure you’re both up and dressed and ready for breakfast?”

“My pleasure,” Michael says.

Mr. G looks at him approvingly. “Great! See you in the lobby for the breakfast buffet at 7:30.” He leans in a bit. “They’ve got bacon.”

“Sounds good,” Michael says enthusiastically. “See you soon.”

With a little wave, Mr. G closes the door, and Michael locks it behind him. Makes his way back to the bed.

“You heard the man, Alex. I'm supposed to be a good buddy to you."

And the way Alex looks right then, rumpled and sleep-soft, one eyebrow arched - it sends Michael somewhere, somewhere he didn’t even realize he could go. Somewhere warmer, better. Somewhere with... with kindness and caring. Smiles and coffee and, and kids and music and fucking togetherness and...

Fuck. Wow. Okay.

Michael shakes his head a bit, blows out a breath. “And as buddies,” he says, running his hand up Alex’s side, “we have to stick together. At all times. And I think it’s time for our shower.”

Alex laughs, lets his head flop back to the pillow. Reaches out for Michael, pulls him in, kisses him. “Best trip ever,” he murmurs.

“With the best person,” Michael whispers and, god, he means it.

hey idk how the scenario would work out but i wanna tease hawthorne michael in a school girl outfit 🥵 he’d be SO cuteeeee

Okay so I wasn’t sure if you meant reader in a school girl outfit or Michael. So, I’m going for reader but if you wanted Michael in a skirt HMU lmfao. Also, here’s my fic for Duncan feat. school girl outfit as a shameless plug. 

Warnings: mentions of religion, slight choking, mention of spanking, mind reading (?), dirty talk, finger sucking, hair pulling, fingering, sex, cum play, and Michael spits in readers mouth (not in that order)

I’d like to build this scenario into the Catholic School AU Verse we’ve talked about before. I’m a religion kink hoe and not very sorry about it. Fuckboy Michael in Catholic School:

–

Day after day Michael saw little miss Y/N on her knees, hands pressed together in prayer - the perfect imagine of innocence. He almost scoffed at how untrue that was. If only the priest that delicately placed the communion bread on her sinful tongue knew what it was doing the night before. 

***

Michael sat alone in the library attempting to study what he could. He fucking hated the hypocrisy of being at a catholic school of all places. But what could he do. 

Someone stood at his side, casting a shadow over his blank piece of paper. She shimmied her legs, antsy for Michael to look up at her. Antsy for his attention. His blue eyes looked to his side and came face to face with a pair of legs in a mini skirt that brushed against her thighs. 

So maybe he didn’t hate everything about catholic school. Of all the little angels that pranced around out of dress code, Y/N was his favorite. She always made it a point to show him how devout she was. 

Wandering his gaze up her legs, he was met with her knowing smile. “Hi, Michael.” she cocked her head to the side to get a look at his blank paper. 

Michael almost rolled his eyes at her little game. They’d been dancing this dance for too long. He reached out for her hand, holding her in place by her wrist. “Hi, Y/N,” he tried to mimic the same feigned innocence in her tone. 

“Need some help?” she maintained her focus, despite his hypnotizing stare, “It’s pretty hard.” she played coy.

“Oh, it will be.” he chuckled, squeezing his hand around her wrist. Her free hand grazed over her chest, toying with the buttons of her crisp white shirt. 

“We can alway go back to your dorm for some one on one..” making sure no one saw, she undid the top button of her blouse, exposing a bit of lace from her bra. 

“Come on,” he nodded his head towards the door, gathering his stuff. He followed behind her, his focus on the way she swayed her hips from side to side with each step she took. 

Y/N looked around his room. It was neater than she expected; most boys around here had a clutter of clothes thrown all over the ground or left overs piling up on their desks. However, there was nothing out of place in Michaels. His desk was cleared off, bed neatly made, drawers closed shut. The only indication of anyone staying in the room was the faint smell of weed and the burned white pillar candles that he burned by his window. 

She watched as Michael locked the door behind him. He was perfect. She remembers gossiping about him with her friends when he first transferred from Hawthorne. All the hushed whispers about him looking like someone out of a  renaissance painting like the ones that hung in the school were only a few of what the girls (and boys) thought about him. 

Michael could be a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t need magic to tell him how people felt about him. Especially Y/N. Her thoughts were the loudest among all the other sinners. 

“Something tells me that little skirt of yours is gonna get you in a lot of trouble.” he flashed his teeth in a knowing smile, kicking his chair back and taking a seat. He looked her up and down with no intention to mask where his thoughts were. 

“Sister Kathy already punished me for it.” she pouted as she advanced towards him. Without warning, she swung one of her legs on to his lap, carelessly straddling him. 

Oh. Needier than Michael originally thought. 

“She said I’m drawing all kinds of bad attention.” She hooked her arms around his neck. “Almost thought she was gonna spank me with a ruler.” she giggled, her fingers finding the nape of his neck. 

“I don’t think you would have hated that entirely,” he raised his eyebrows. Michael’s voice was slow and dragged out - almost sounding unamused by her antics. Despite the cool exterior he had, he was envisioning little miss Y/N bent over his desk with her bottom a bright shade of red. He preferred using his own hand to spank rather than a ruler, but the nuns were set in their ways, he thought. He loved being able to grip her ass each time his hand came smacking down. Being the direct correlation of her whimpered noises made the blood rush to his cock.

“Not if you were the one spanking me,” she almost read his mind. “I think about it a lot you know.” she shrugged as her fingers found the buttons of her shirt, slowly and lazily undoing them. There was no hiding how erect her nipples became through the sheer excuse for a bra she wore. It left little to the imagination for Michael to ogle at her pebbled nipples through the fabric. 

“I appreciate the confession, angel.” he held on to her waist, “But I already know. I know all your dirty little secrets. Every single thought you’ve had about me - I know it.” 

She looked away from his piercing stare - just when she thought she had the upper hand in this little charade they were playing. Michael lifted her chin, making her look him in the eyes, “Aw, no need to get shy about it now.” he chuckled. “What? Was it last week during mass that you wondered what it’d feel like to have my hands around your neck?” the same hand he used to so gently lift her chin up, was now wrapped around her delicate neck. Her pulse was beating rapidly against his finger. 

“Do you like it?” the tip of his nose bumping hers, his warm breath fanned on to her face. Y/N rocked her hips into his. That was enough of an answer for Michael. 

“Naughty little thing. Of course you do.” Michael helped Y/N shrug her shirt off her shoulders, letting it drop to the ground. “But I didn’t need to sense your thoughts to know that.” he shrugged, “Not with the way you walk around me - always making sure I’m watching.” 

Michael picked up her wrist and brought her hand up to his lips, “Just know I always am.” he kissed her knuckles. 

He stood up with Y/N still wrapped around his waist and walked her over to his wooden desk, sitting her on top. As he towered over her, he bent down to cup her face, catching her lips in a feverish kiss. Y/N wasted no further time and allowed her hands to reach for his bulge as he kissed her. She felt him twitch through his pants. Feeling just how big he felt as she palmed him made her question whether she’d be able to take him. 

Michael chuckled into the kiss, “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll try to be gentle.” he winked as he bit down harshly on her lower lip - an indication of just how gentle he planned on being with her. 

The plaid piece of cloth that had day after day taunted him in the hallways now at the tip of his fingers. Letting his hand wander up her thighs, he could feel her heat radiating off of her. He hooked the thin string of her panties on his fingers and dragged them down her legs. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as the cool air hit her wet cunt. 

Michael held up her dainty pink panties up like a prize before slipping in them in his back pocket. Sensing the protest Y/N was about to make, he shut her up with a kiss. A kiss so slow and sensual it made her dizzy. His tongue ran over hers, exploring every inch of her mouth. 

Dazed and lost in his kiss, Y/N didn’t expect the sudden probing of her pussy. Two long digit ran up and down her slit, playing with her arousal and made her nice and slick. She gasped into his mouth allowing further access to her. 

“Gonna get you nice and ready for my cock,” his voice was low, just loud enough for her to hear. His fingers plunged into her pussy, feeling her spongy walls contract around them. He curled them up making her convulse and reach out to grab him. 

“Easy..” he cooed, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, getting a taste of her. “Sweeter than honey.” he winked. 

She caressed her own thighs, lifting up her skirt a bit for him. “Michael, I want you to fuck me.” 

He laughed, taking his cock out of his pants. He was unlike anything she’d seen before. It was long and carved with intricate veins. His cock pulsed in his palm as he began to align himself at her entrance. 

Michael eased his way inside. Measuring just how quickly he entered her by her breathing. It helped that she was so wet. Each time her breath hitched in her throat, he slowed it down. “Just fuck me.” she eventually cried out. The feeling of wanting to be full of him needed to be satiated. She’d been patient for too long. “I can handle it.” 

He groaned in response - even more turned on over how much Y/N needed to be fucked by him. For once, he did as he was told and rammed his cock inside her. 

“Oh, fuck.” she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulder blades. 

When he laughed at her reaction, his whole body shook inside her. She could feel each and every vibration to her core. Michael was balls deep inside her tight little cunt. He was breathing heavily as her warm walls hugged his cock. 

Living in the sensation of being filled up, her hungry lips searched his. Michael pulled away, only to grab her by the base of her hair, tilting her head back. She whimpered at the tug of her hair. “Open your mouth for me,” he panted. 

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. Her mouth dangled open, pink tongue on display for him. She watched with teary eyes as he collected his spit in his mouth. Her pleading eyes and silent whines made his cock jerk. Without releasing his grip on her hair, he spit directly into her mouth. She didn’t close her mouth - giving him a clear view of his saliva traveling down her mouth and into her throat. 

“Fuck,” he dragged out the word. 

He began to thrust his hips into her. Bucking repeatedly in a steady pattern. With every thrust her breasts bounced in synchronization.

Y/N reached around him, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling him in as close as she could. “Harder. Fuck me harder.” she begged. 

Grabbing her hips, he slammed into her harder. Fast, forceful thrusts pierced into her. She pressed her forehead on his shoulder as he fucked her mercilessly. 

“Oh God.” she moaned.

“That’s right, angel. Fuck.” he cursed under his breath, “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.” She swiveled her hips as best she could with his iron grip right before her stomach tightened. Her vision blurred and she swore she saw stars. Michael didn’t dare let go of her as he continued to fuck her until he was about to finish. 

As her orgasm washed over her, Michael pushed her back down on the desk, laying her flat. Her legs continued to shake in the aftermath of her cumming. He pulled out his cock, pumping it in his hand a few times until he spilled all over her body.

Her tummy and breasts were covered in his hot milky cum. Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, trying to slowly regain herself. Michael used his thumb to paint a cross in between the valley of her breasts with his own cum. 

He pressed his now filthy thumb to her lips to which she instinctively responded by sucking it clean. Michael chuckled quietly at how dazed Y/N was. 

“C’mon, Y/N.” he spoke quietly, tucking himself back into his pants. He hooked his arms under her and lightly placed her on his bed for her to rest. 

Worn out Y/N smiled lazily at Michael as he cleaned her up with a warm towel. The hot fabric felt nice against her now sensitive areas between her thighs. “What is it?” Michael asked as he wiped her body down. 

“What happened to you knowing ‘each and every thought’ I have,” she lowered her voice to mimic his. 

He rolled his eyes at her tossing aside the rag and climbing over her. “Just wanted you to take a break before the next round.” he nuzzled his face into her neck, “Your thoughts are telling my just how much of a needy little thing you are..” he mused, his hand already snaking in between her thighs. 

--

Sorry if I messed up your request, anon! 

Tagging: @psychowriter2702 @lovelylangdonx @fckinsupreme @royalblueviper @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sweetfayetanner @langdonsdemon @holl0807 @bloodsuckinvampire @alyssssagrace @langdondelrey @beautiful--kkryptonite @divinelangdon @langdonswhoreprobably @rocketgirl2410 @gurkmaster3 @ilovevangogh-blog @1-800-bitchcraft @lvngdvns @getdevils @satcnas @no-need-for-rules @venusxxlangdon @hecohansen31 @desertsunflower00 

pretending to be good

Eleanor and Michael struggle to become better.

Read on ao3

He wasn’t what she had always thought the devil was like. She watched him try to hide it. He wore his suit like an armour, his bowtie always bright and vibrant, his hair styled to an inch of perfection. He joked, and chatted, and blustered around in the same way he thought humans did, covered his bad bits with odd habits or terrible hobbies. But when he reached out and touched her, she could not help but flinch. His skin was cold to the touch, almost like a snake’s. He would always look at her then, hurt and confused, but this only shattered the illusion even further. The hardness in his eyes had never softened.

Chidi was chattering away about philosophy, staring at his chalkboard as he drove himself in vicious, confused circles. He had strayed from the point almost half an hour ago and seemed to have forgotten that Michael and Eleanor were there at all. They were leaning over a textbook, hair brushing together, and their cheeks lit up in the same sick glee. They were adding to the trolley problem diagram in thick red pens, drawing crushed bystanders and angry red eyes on the driver. Michael drew a moustache on him, and Eleanor chuckled and added a pointed little beard. She glanced up at Chidi, who was still harshly ruminating and turned her head slightly towards Michael. “What do you really think about it, though?” She said softly. He frowned and returned her gaze. “About what?” He asked. His icy breath tickled her cheek slightly, and she swallowed harshly. “The trolley problem.” She whispered, and he nodded and turned to stare at the book, head tilted. “Well,” he muttered. “They’re all going to hell anyway. Who cares if it’s a bit early?” She felt a smile pull itself across her cheeks, surprising her. She turned to gaze at the book as well. “I meant, who do you save?” He hesitated, and then let out a breath. “I don’t know, Eleanor. I find it hard to care.” He said quietly, voice vulnerable as if he were revealing a dirty little secret. She just nodded. “Me too.”

She was trying to learn how to be better. She smiled more and offered hesitant kindnesses. Chidi thought she was doing well. Michael knew better. They would meet in his office often, sipping vinegary wine and venting over the events of the day. “And then Jason told me his school taught maths by playing Tetris, and that’s why he’s so good at sex.” Michael laughed, Eleanor giggling along with him. Her cheeks were flushed with pink, drunk and gleeful. “So, what did you say?” She asked, trying to take another sip out of her empty glass. She shrugged and picked up the bottle to swig out of that instead. “I asked him which piece was most like his penis.” He said joyfully, head titled back, and eyes scrunched together. Eleanor snorted, trying to imagine Jason’s face at that. “And?” “He frowned for a little bit and then said the block.” He told her and they both looked at each other with cheerful confusion. “Oh, Jason.” She laughed, sitting back in her chair and propping her feet up on the desk. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, both gazing up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Michael,” Eleanor said hesitantly, and he snapped his gaze back to her. “Do you ever think…” “What?” He asked once it was clear she was struggling to continue. She gazed solidly at the wine bottle, her mind whirling around. “I’ve just been wondering, lately, what the point is.” She admitted. “The point of what?” “Trying to be good.” She said quietly, and Michael nodded slowly. “Like, I know Chidi and Tahani and even Jason are, like, good inside. But us,” here she slowly sought out his eyes. “we’re not quite like that, are we?” “We’re not?” He asked, trying to swallow past the sudden thickness in his throat. She shook her head slowly, brows furrowed. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. When you do good things. When you try to act kindly or do things that are probably the right thing to do.” She said, her voice laced with steel. “Feel what?” He asked, but he already knew. “Like it’s just an act.” She said softly, her face pained. “Well, yes, but that’s what we’re doing, isn’t it.” He asked her, feeling almost desperate in his conviction that she was wrong. “Act good until we are good.” “But we’re not good.” She argued harshly. “We will never be like them. All of them, they all had something. Tahani had her fame, Jason had his friends, Chidi had his books. They all had something in their lives that they loved.” “What do you love?” He asked, and she stared blankly at him. “Nothing at all.” He nodded, slowly, and poured himself another glass of wine in the silence. She was still looking at him, her face almost desperate. He took a deep sip and then sighed. “Me neither.” He confessed, and her face fell slack instantly in relief. “But what else can we do?” “Be bad.” She said, her face now flushed in conviction. He sighed and sat back. “Well, we’ve done that already. Might as well try this out for a bit.” He said quietly. “I can’t do this.” She said, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to.” “What else can we do?” He asked again, his own voice thick with emotion. “Be bad – and do what? Torture Chidi, Tahani and Jason? Do you really want to do that?” “No.” She admitted, and he nodded. “I could cancel this whole thing. We could all go back to the real bad place. You and the others would end up being tortured forever.” He told her. He wondered, absently, what torture they would choose for Eleanor. “And you?” She asked, looked up at him through her slightly wet lashes. He let out a gruff laugh. “And I would spend the rest of eternity like I spent the first part. Bored and alone.” He admitted, and she opened her mouth to disagree and then instantly shut it. “Why has it got to be so hard?” She asked and he closed his eyes in pain. “It’s the way of the universe.” He said, a bleak smile stretching over his face. “But we have to do this, Eleanor.” She looked for a second like she might argue, but then let out a huff of air. “Yeah, I guess.”

He didn’t see as much of Eleanor after that. She kept to her house, rarely going anywhere she was likely to see him. He didn’t mind. Her words were constantly in his head. Logically, he thought his plan was the right one. He had grudgingly read the textbooks and listened to Chidi’s impassioned explanations. He knew people were more complicated than good or bad, and he saw that more than anywhere in Eleanor herself. She seemed so inherently dark. He saw it in her mocking gaze, in the way she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, any time she infected conversations with her bitter sarcasm. But this darkness felt so good. He liked their silent exchanges, enjoyed their whispered insults. He liked the way she would light up in the presence of her friends, stealing away their warmth. He liked the way that she alone knew exactly what he thought of different philosophies or moral stances because she thought the exact same thing. It was nice, after so many millennia, to feel a little less alone. Despite this, though, he really wanted to be good. He wanted to be admirable, righteous, the sort of person people saw as a pillar. It was so very human to want someone to look up to, and so very appealing for them to be looking up at him. He needed to try at the very least because he knew. Knew that if he and Eleanor continued any further down the wrong path, then the others would be doomed to a life of misery.

She quickly stopped avoiding him, bored by his absence. They spoke slightly awkwardly, both worried by the other’s reaction. Still, it was good to be on the same team. She was getting restless. In her life on Earth, she had rarely stayed in one place for very long. She had always enjoyed flitting from place to place, never getting too tied down. Now, it seemed she would be trapped in this pseudo paradise forever. How very fitting. She and Michael were both getting better, studying dutifully under Chidi’s watchful eye. Their textbooks remained unmarked and became well-read. Slowly, her kindness was becoming more instinctive. She wasn’t sure if it was from genuine belief or just muscle memory at this point, but it made Chidi grin widely. Sometimes Michael would smile as well, and it made her stomach twist into knots.

“I guess we’re really doing this.” She said to Michael absently. It had been weeks since their conversation, but he knew what she was talking about instantly. “I guess we are.” He replied. They were sitting eating froyo, looking out at the artificial setting sun. He turned to look at her face, coloured red by the hues of the sky. She looked as much of a demon as him. He kept that thought to himself. “At least we’re in this together.” She said solemnly, her voice slightly choked. He nodded, feeling traitorous tears building in his eyes. The ultimate hell for Eleanor Shellstrop had not been one of his design but had clearly been just as effective. An eternity of being pretending to be good. And he was trapped right alongside her.

Actually, anti parabatai plot as a criticism of the oppressive regime would have been super interesting. Like they literally perform some magical ritual on minors. Moreover, it’s seen as prestigious and is highly encouraged. Moreover, if children have doubts they can’t even properly discuss them. Notice how in 2x03 Alec is left so alone he only has his baby sister to share his misgivings about the ritual. Moreover, he isn’t even happy about the upcoming ceremony. It really feels like he only ->

-> out of obligation (reminds me of ‘are you happy’, ‘yes, I’m following my duty’). Idk maybe it was indoctrinated that cancelling the ceremony once you gave your word is unthinkable, dishonourable, shameful or some other shit. Anyway, Alec didn’t look enthusiastic AT ALL. We don’t see what role Maryse and Robert played in this but they were probably their toxic selves. Besides, it’s strange to make a team out of two people so different both personality and career wise. And speaking of indoctrination, you can see children getting ingrained with this shit from the very young age. Like little Izzy may not have wanted a parabatai herself but you can see she was still affected. Jace legit said that they were gonna be REAL brothers as if something stopped him seeing Alec as such without a magical tattoo which is major yikes

EXACTLY!!! you get it!!!!!! not only that but the whole "the biggest pain a shadowhunter could ever know is losing a parabatai", "parabatai are the most important people to each other", "parabatai are in perfect tune" etc like so much shit that was straight up NOT SHOWN TO BE TRUE throughout the plot. valentine and luke were parabatai and he betrayed him, jace basically never gave a fuck about alec's wellbeing, he couldn't even tell when alec was literally dying lol also the bond isn't even that strong, like if ur away for a while or try to TRACK THEM it breaks??? and in the books robert and michael were parabatai as well and then they never talked again and robert legit straight up couldnt tell when michael DIED AND WAS REPLACED BY VALENTINE WITH A GLAMOUR like My God

my hc for this whole thing is that the parabatai thing was invented to increase sh loyalty to each other as well as their teamwork, and they made up this bunch of bullshit about it being like family and super important and their pain is your pain and blah blah blah to seem more desirable. kinda like how spartans encouraged relationships between soldiers to make them stronger? or how compulsory monogamy teaches you that the way to achieve happiness is through One Single Person who will be perfect for you always oops

actually o shit there are plenty of parallels between parabataiship and compulsory monogamy and i think i'm gonna go into that now. so mandatory disclaimer that compulsory monogamy =/= your monogamous relationship, just like heteronormativity =/= your heterosexual relationship. okay? okay. if yall come for me screaming that Monogamous People Aren't All Toxic i will ignore you because that's not what i'm saying and i just explicitly stated that. okay? okay

so i’m gonna skip the historical part because compulsory monogamy is very intimately related with the invention of capitalism, private property and etc., and that doesn’t work quite as well in the context of sh since it’s more of a military society than anything, and again, i do believe that it’s more of a “making them more likely to be loyal”/less likely to question missions and stuff thing. but the effects of parabataiship as it is constructed in sh lore are very similar to those of compulsory monogamy in real life:

the whole loyalty thing that can be very easily turned into toxicity/co-dependency/straight up abusive and unequal dynamics. again, i’m talking about monogamy as a system, not saying that all monogamous relationships are toxic, okay? if i sound insistent here, it’s because you wouldn’t believe the amount of times i put 4981749318 disclaimers like that and ppl still got offended on behalf of their monogamous relationships i wasn’t talking about

i’ll go further into that. monogamy ideology, like parabatai ideology, tells us that there’s a kind of relationship that is superior to all others and should be prioritized above all others (romantic relationships for monogamy ideology, parabataiship for parabatai ideology. compulsory monogamy and amatonormativity are more than just intimately related, they are a part of the other). this means that not putting the person you have this kind of relationship with above all others is seen as a crime and betrayal. and i’m not talking about cheating here, i’m talking about stuff such as “would you let your partner go to parties without you?”, seeing you at a place without your partner and asking where they are and why they didn’t come with you/assuming that you must have fought or broken up, considering that a relationship is doomed or not very close if its parts are not literally inseparable, turning the two parts of a relationship into some kind of almost symbiotic creature, where you stop being “A and B” and become “A-and-B” (this exact wording is even a trope in romantic fiction, esp fanfic), “would your missus let you come with us?”, having huge fights because one party wants to go somewhere and the other doesn’t and they can’t come to an agreement on that, etc., i think you get it by now

this mindset that the person you have this particular kind of relationship with should be prioritized above all others, that a part of your sense of self should be merged with theirs, that you essentially have to become a unit, and that it’s hard, but you have to fight to make it work (”love hurts”, “love is tough, it’s like that”, “if you love someone you have to make sacrifices for them”, etc) makes people feel guilty whenever they don’t put that person and their wishes above all else, or even when they want to do something without them, because that is seen as not loving them enough. not only that, but monogamy ideology promises you that once you find The One™ you will achieve a kind of happiness and perfection in your life that you couldn’t get any other way. this means that people are effectively scared of breaking up or of not having/wanting a relationship like that, because it means that they are broken and will never be truly happy (see what i meant when i said that amatonormativity and monogamy ideology are a part of each other?). that’s why you see people saying shit like “my greatest fear is to waste many years on a relationship and break up in the end”, “if you aren’t dating to get married you’re dating to get your heart broken”, etc. 

so you see people trying their damn hardest to stay loyal to the relationship even when it obviously doesn’t make them happy, feeling guilty for not being happy, and accepting toxic mindsets and abuse because they feel like they owe it to them. especially the weakest link in the relationship - notably women in monogamy ideology, as monogamy is also inherently linked with the patriarchy and in monogamy ideology specifically a woman in a het relationship is seen as more than just a part of the man she is in a relationship with, she’s seen as his property, but that dynamic can also be inverted or ruled by other factors such as race, sexuality, gender identity, class, etc. - are way more likely to be seen as owing their partners loyalty. not just that, but in particular with people who are otherwise oppressed, being loved is seen as almost a favor, because again, being in a romantic relationship is supposed to be your exclusive golden ticket to heavenly happiness and whatnot, and oppressed people (esp queer ppl and poc) as seen as undeserving of that, and effectively denied that in many ways, so they are more likely to want to stay in a toxic relationship out of fear that they won’t ever find anything better (it’s not a coincidence that “no one will ever love you like i do” is such a common phrase to hear from abusers). also, let’s not forget that even the right to break up in itself is something that had to be fought for. the feminist movement spent years trying to make divorce legal (in the places where it is) and still fights to make it be seen as acceptable. if it weren’t for other pressures trying to change the rules of monogamy, a “breakup” would quite literally not even be allowed, and this always benefits the strongest link

so now that that’s been explained, back to parabataiship. i think the parallels here are very clear - i mean, for one, you can’t really break it up, unless you purposefully use soul tracking or stay away for a long time, so it’s like, old fashioned monogamy. but more than that, breaking your parabatai bond is seen as terrifying. there is a lot of purposeful rethoric that directly says that the pain of the parabatai bond being severed (whether by will or by one of the parts dying) is unmatchable, and that plants a horrible fear into people, to the point where villains use that against parabatai shadowhunters (for example, the owl possessing jace and telling him that it’ll kill alec so he knows what the pain of losing a parabatai is like). this means that loyalty is owed, because even if you just want to be away from your parabatai, this might break the bond and put you through unspeakable pain (in theory. as i’ve been saying, it’s basically been proved that that’s not true, because when jace died that was far from being the worst pain that alec’s ever felt) 

moreover: the whole thing about how this kind of relationship is sacred, above all else, and will bring you a kind of happiness that is impossible to achieve otherwise. this is said many times - like you said, parabataiship is seen as something desirable and that brings honor. the vows are very similar to marriage (the highest pillar of monogamy) vows (“your family will be my family, your people will be my people”, “entreat me not to leave thee”), clary is constantly told that she could never understand the relationship jace and alec have because they’re parabatai and being parabatai is special and basically uncomparable to anything else, even by izzy, who never wanted to have a parabatai (and in the end she ends up wanting to, which reminds me of the whole “oh, you’ll want it once you grow up” trope with heterosexual romantic relationships. like, basically, you’ll want it once you find the right person. that is something aro, gay, and non-monog ppl hear all the damn time). the whole thing about how obviously jace is supposed to be the one alec loves the most, they’re parabatai, the whole thing about how “alec would die for me, we’re parabatai” like that is unquestionable; the souls becoming one, the being able to feel each other’s feelings and blah blah blah. in short: sacred, above all else, and, unless you do something very wrong, able to bring you a kind of connection and happiness you wouldn’t be able to get otherwise no matter how strong your feelings or your compatibility is; and once you get it, you can’t get out

and then there’s the imbalance it brings. like i said, notably in monogamy as a pillar of heteronormativity the imbalance lays on women, altho other factors can change that balance or be more prominent. with parabataiship, there’s an obvious trope of queer people getting heterosexual parabatai and being very obviously the weakest link (alec with jace, michael with robert, there are others but i don’t remember. the exception to this is luke, who is written as equally heterosexual and, in the books, equally white, to valentine, but who’s still the weakest link anyway because valentine gains power and prestige luke doesn’t have). again, the whole “alec would die for me” thing tells a lot. he didn’t say “we would die for each other”. he said “alec would die for me”. despite the rethoric being that both parts should be endlessly devoted, the expectation that one should fulfill that obviously falls harder on one than on the other. with monogamy, there’s even a kind of rethoric that you have to work for the reciprocation to be there (for example, victims of domestic abuse being told that if they dedicate themselves to their partners enough, the abuse would stop, like they owe their partners dedication and love and comprehension, and then their partners will give it back only once they get enough of it) that we haven’t really seen with parabatai (at least i don’t remember it) but that i wouldn’t be surprised to see present there. after all, alec can feel it when jace gets a papercut and jace can’t tell when alec is literally dying, and none of that is ever questioned in canon

and then the imbalance is kept because, again, breaking up parabataiship is unthinkable and shameful, not to mention kind of impossible/not allowed to do officially. so the weakest link is basically stuck in this situation of imbalance and, in many cases, toxicity and abuse, but can’t break out of it and effectively feel guilty because according to everything they’ve ever been told, they should be elated that they’ve found their one and they should be happy. if they aren’t happy, then they’re broken, or not trying hard enough, and it’s taboo to even talk about that

again, i’m not saying that all monogamous relationships or all parabataiships are toxic, okay? i’m saying that, as a structurer of our society (and sh’s fictional society) they favor this kind of dynamic, allow it, and justify it through their ideologies. in the same way that heteronormativity allied with misoginy makes it more likely for women to be abuse or r-word victims than men. is every het relationship toxic? no. is heteronormativity toxic? yes. monogamy works the same way

in short, parabataiship is not a relationship model. or rather, it is, but way before and more than that, parabataiship is an ideology that is specifically structured to subjugate shadowhunters, notably queer shadowhunters, and keep their loyalty to each other and to the clave, and most of its rethoric (nothing can ever be stronger than the love for a parabatai, nothing can match the pain of losing a parabatai, parabatai are one and the same and they share a soul) is absolute bullshit built to make it more desirable and make sure that structure is left unquestioned. a plotline that questions the buildings of parabataiship and shows how the whole myth that’s around parabataiship is that, a myth, built to subjugate and control people, would have been amazing, but of course we couldn’t get that so crumbles of meta it is

me: i’m tired of discourse in my blog i’m going to chill for now. me the very same day: what if i went on my first more detailed anti-monogamy rant when that is 100% guaranteed to attract aggressive people who can’t read and also criticized sh fandom’s beloved parabataiship all in one post?