#we need Michaels return pls

[cgph334]

I actually can’t stop thinking about how much this episode actually reflects the conversation Colin has with Trent in episode 6. Like Colin’s arc of him being gay is absolutely nothing about him coming to terms with it or an internal battle he is having him about the fact he is gay. It’s purely all external, all about what other people will think and feel and say about the fact he is gay. Like firstly the fact we never actually see Colin coming out to the team, the words he is saying aren’t revolutionary (for him or for us as an audience, it’s not like we are finding out the same time as the team) or this big thing the fact he is saying “I’m gay” out loud, for him it’s all about the reaction and response he will get from the team. That’s what’s most important to this moment for him, meaning that why we see on screen. Leading into the fact that Colin says to Trent how he doesn’t want to be a spokesperson or any big apologies, to then the reaction of the team be like “we don’t care” to Ted being like “we don’t not care and we are proud of you” but leaving it at that is exactly what Colin needed. The ache, I know everyone has discussed this but the second Colin combines these two lives aka him being out to the team makes better footballer. Combining these lives ended up being a positive thing for Colin when he feared it would be a negative thing. I simply just really enjoyed this episode.

[alaskasmonsters]

𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖎𝖌𝖙𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖘 (michael kaiser)

pairing: michael kaiser x gn!reader

contents: playful insults, teasing, mistaking attraction for hatred, foreign language (french), enemies to lovers (hinted)

w/c: 1.842

summary: when you accompany your friend noel to blue lock you did not consider that kaiser, aka the bastard’s most infamous asshole, would be there, too. luckily your favourite pastime activity was throwing french insults into his face that no one but noel could understand.

a/n: this is based on a request i got :) this isn’t really love-hate and more another ‘attraction mistaken for hatred’ buuut if you’re all nice i’ll make a second part about when they move into the love-hate stage :) also can i just note how eVIL it is to ask a german person to write about the fRENCH. we are natural enemies yall 😔😔 we meet behind a denny’s to fistfight (and kiss) whaat who said that?!?! anyways i did love this prompt despite not being able to speak french. i was able to ask my friend to give me some phrases, their credentials are *checks papers* mediocre school french 👍🏻👍🏻 so let’s just hope my friend can be trusted, if not hope kaiser being hot makes up for it! (also french people <3 if you wanna correct my french pls do 🙏🙏)

You grumbled to yourself, regarding Kaiser with a glare. Not one he could notice since he was currently standing with his back turned towards you, conversing with Ness.

“Blaireau,” you muttered under your breath, eyes narrowing at the boy.

Noel, who was sitting next to you, let out a sigh but didn’t even raise his gaze from his clipboard to regard you with one of his typical deadpan looks.

You guessed it wasn’t necessary, he knew you well enough to know you were sitting there with a frown edged into your features and your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“So you’ve started doing it even when he’s not close enough to hear you,” he asked you.

“Pardon me?”

“Muttering insults in french. I thought you were doing it to infuriate him but I am sure you know he cannot hear you from this distance.” To emphasise his statement he lifted his hand to point towards Kaiser, who was standing several feet away fem the two of you, before returning the pen he was holding to the paper, scribbling down another number.

You wondered how Noel made sense of it all. Keeping track of the stats of all the new team additions and transferring these numbers into percentages. What those percentages exactly meant you were unsure about. All you knew was that your friend spent a lot of time on them.

You sighed, trying your best not to glare at Kaiser again as you turned to look towards him. You failed.

“Infuriating him is only an added benefit. I do enjoy just insulting him for the sake of it.”

“I see.” Although Noel sounded unimpressed you could tell he would lose his patience with this little thing you and Kaiser had going on, sooner or later.

Especially if it would end up distracting the boy from soccer, not that you thought that was ever possible. Kaiser would rather ignore you for the rest of his life than endanger his soccer career.

You turned towards Noel again and let out a dramatic sigh. Time to make this predicament you were in known to him once more.

“Noel, i need you to look me in the eyes and tell me Kaiser isn’t one of the most annoying assholes you’ve ever met.” You challenged him, lowering your voice as to not catch the attention of any of the boys standing nearby.

The corner of Noel’s lips twitched up at your frustrated tone. Almost like he didn’t take you seriously. You frowned. Rude. This matter was dead serious.

“He doesn’t know how to behave. I trust you to be the mature one. Unless you want me to get you thrown out of this building. You’re only here because i consider you a dear friend, don’t forget that.”

You gasped, offended at the insinuation he’d be willing to throw you out, his best friend, in favour of keeping Kaiser’s ego intact. It was true that you were only allowed to accompany him to ‘Blue Lock’ because he had requested your presence, seeing as you were his best friend. You needed to emphasise that because ‘dear friend’? Yeah right. He wouldn’t know what to do without you. He’d certainly lose his mind.

“You wouldn't. You need me. My presence is precious to you,” you insisted, digging your finger into his arm, not unkindly. “But okay, I promise to behave since Kaiser is clearly not able to.”

You thought offering this was extremely kind of you since it was Kaiser who needed to learn some manners, not you. You were extremely well behaved.

“Aww you’re quite obsessed with me, aren’t you, darling?”

Your blood turned cold. When you turned your head back forward you were met with the sight of none other than Michael Kaiser standing only three feet in front of you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Casse-toi, Kaiser.” You cursed before you were able to stop yourself.

Kaiser’s grin grew. Noel let out a sigh next to you.

“You promised,” He reminded you and looked up from the clipboard to regard you with a pointed look. “Please, Y/n.”

“It’s not my fault. He’s started it!” You gasped, pointing at Kaiser childishly.

He laughed, waving his hand.

“I just came to say hello after hearing my name come out of your mouth so often. I was afraid you’d wither away without my attention.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, his innocent smile fooling no one.

Your jaw ticked and before you knew it you had risen to your feet and stomped forward to close the remaining distance between you two to start cursing him out in french.

To your growing anger Kaiser took it in stride, cocking his head at you and listening with interest as you threw insult after insult at his head before Noel apparently had enough of you. He grabbed your wrist and yanked you back telling you to sit back down and ignore Kaiser. He sounded exhausted.

Easier said than done. Kaiser’s whole nature demanded attention. It was impossible to ignore him. But you had promised Noa you’d behave, so you guessed you should at least try.

“T’es chiant!” you snapped at Kaiser, seeing this as the end of your fight, before you let Noel pull you down into the seat.

Noel gave you another pointed look before his gaze shifted back to Kaiser who was watching your interaction with amusement though there was a dark edge to his gaze that wasn’t there before.

“You’re not done with your training, yet, are you?” Noel asked Kaiser

The boy grinned and gave a halfhearted shrug.

“I’m taking a break.”

“Take it somewhere else,” you bit out, feeling Noel’s disapproving glare burn into the side of your face.

You were trying!

“I prefer your lovely company over the one of the common folk,” Kaiser replied easily, waving his hand in the general direction of where you saw the boys of the ‘Blue Lock’ project talk.

Kaiser didn’t like them much, especially Isagi, who has already declared war on him in a very dramatic way that had you questioned the boy’s mental health. Like really, was the boy okay? Talking about devouring people and ruining their life and all.

At least Isagi managed to infuriate Kaiser in a way that no one else was able to. Of course, this meant that you did like Isagi if only because he actually managed to get under the boy’s skin. Unlike you. Kaiser never seemed impressed when you threw french insults into his face, no, it was the complete opposite. He seemed to love it. He seemed to bash in your attention. This only made you angrier.

Entitled jerk.

Maybe you’d just have to take your ‘lovely company’ to Isagi and his friends the next time you saw Kaiser coming your way. That would keep him away.

“They’re not common folk and you’re not an emperor, Kaiser, at best you’re the roi des cons,” you fired back, regarding him with an unamused look.

Nowl let out another sigh, though you thought it was quite a clever word of play. He just didn’t know how to appreciate it or you for the matter.

Kaiser hummed, taking a few steps forward and lowering his head. His gaze was intense as he fixed yours behind the curtains of his hair that fell into his face. Your heart beat wildly in your chest at the sudden air of seriousness surrounding him.

“Is that a new petname, my love? How precious.” His voice was low and smooth and it took you a second to process his words.

When you did you felt your cheeks explode in heat and you had half a mind to jump up and wrestle Kaiser to the ground if it wasn’t for Noel’s hand grabbing the back of your jacket and pulling you down again.

“Stop provoking them and go back to your training, Kaiser.”

Kaiser just snickered, eyes twinkling with mirth as he took in your red face and the snarl on your lips.

“Don’t miss me too much, i’ll be back in a bit,” he mocked with a grin that reached his eyes but still didn’t look genuine.

He turned around to walk away.

“Va te faire enculer!” You called after him but he just laughed and waved his hand at you without turning back.

You huffed and sunk back in your seat, arms crossed in front of your chest as you pouted. You fucking hated that guy.

Noa watched you quietly for a moment before he shook his head and moved to stand up, pushing his clipboard into your hands for you to hold.

“Your taste in men is horrible,” he told you as nonchalantly as one would discuss the weather before shrugging out of his tracksuit jacket and throwing it on the chair he’s been sitting in.

You shot up, shrieking. “Excuse me?”

A few boys close-by turned to stare at you and you ducked your head in embarrassment at your out-lash but you couldn’t believe the words that had just left your friend’s mouth.

“Kaiser is bad news. You can do better than him.”

You gasped at him, cheeks burning from embarrassment. Where did that just come from? Was he seriously insinuating that you? And Kaiser?

“I’m not- You’re- I-” You stuttered, your heart racing in your chest.

This was- You couldn’t believe this!

Noel rolled his eyes and gently pried the clipboard out of your eyes, levelling you with a calm look.

“If you want to deny it, go ahead. But either way stop pulling Kaiser’s metaphorical pigtails already, it’s exhausting.”

He gave you a gentle clap on the shoulder and a small smile, before walking off towards the direction of the ‘Blue Lock’ boys. You stared after him, your face hot and your mouth agape.

You weren’t-

You and Kaiser? That was ridiculous. Absolutely impossible. You would never, not in a billion years, be attracted to him. He was such an asshole. A complete jerk. Completely infuriating. Why would Noel even think that?

You huffed again, shoulders bunching up as you tried to take a deep breath to calm yourself.

Noel had no idea what he was talking about. What did he even know about romance? Nothing. That’s right!

You lifted your gaze and- You froze when your eyes locked with Kaiser’s. He was standing on the other end of the field, football secured under his arm. He was watching you intensely. From this far away it was hard to make out the look in his eyes but you felt a shiver rake down your spine and the itch on your tongue.

You gave him the middle finger, biting your tongue to not throw another insult his way as you would have had to shout it over the whole field. When the boy did nothing but laugh and blow you a kiss, you quickly turned away. The heat in your cheeks never fading.

Noel was wrong. You did not have a crush on Kaiser. You did not.

Not even a little.

translations:

Blaireau — Asshole

Casse-toi — Fuck off

T’es chiant — You’re annoying

Roi des cons — Complete idiot/King of idiots

Va te faire enculer — Go fuck yourself

[whiskey-bumblebee]

trick or treat aaron hotchner pls 🙏

treat! 🍬

A/N: gender neutral reader (Aaron slips up at one point but we correct him), Halloween-decoration-typical horror (just in case). Also the writing in this is super lazy because I am what? Lazy <3 Hope you enjoy! And keep the requests coming!

Aaron loves that you love Halloween, but he can't stand the decorations. He's seen a lot of things in his life, and Spirit Halloween reminds him of the worst of them: dismembered limbs, blood, scary masks, references to weapons and poison, death all around. To him, it's a blessing that you have the stomach for the plastic version. It means he's doing his job, as an agent and a boyfriend. He's not bringing it home. He's keeping you safe from the horrors of the world.

So he gives you a list of boundaries, lovingly handwritten in his neatest print:

please no: -weapons -gore/blood -body parts/bones/tombstones -jumping things -masks -murder/crime scene paraphernalia

You take the list in hand and give him a look. "Honey, I respect this, but are there things you do want? That might be easier."

He considers it for a second. "Bats. Pumpkins. Spiders. Witches. Cats. Vampires. Frankenstein. Cute ghosts."

You smile and give him a kiss because you can't help it. "Cute ghosts."

"You know. Sheet ghosts."

"So you can watch scary movies but you can't have scary decorations?" You're only teasing, and he knows that, but he still pouts a little.

"Michael Myers on the television is different to Michael Myers in the living room."

You nod. "Okay, honey. I'll see what we can do."

So you head to the halloween store and do a little bit of damage with your credit card, and head home to set up. You don't get many trick or treaters, since you live in a small neighborhood, but it's just as fun to decorate for yourself, right?

You decide to go with plenty of fuzzy spiders, a jack o lantern for the porch, and a sheet ghost for the lawn.

Aaron gets home, and you're careful to meet him out in the driveway so you can check for his approval.

"Cute ghost," You point out, after giving him a quick kiss. He nods.

There are some comically large spiders climbing up the outside of the house, and he laughs.

"Sure."

Then the two pumpkins on the porch.

"I thought we'd carve them together another time."

He nods again. You know the lack of reaction is just his way of assessing a situation wholly before he makes an overall judgement.

You walk him through the door, where you've kept things much more minimal. Your home is your shared sanctuary after all, and the last thing you need is to give him a heart attack in the middle of the night.

The front door reads "Haus Frankenstein", with the silhouette of a castle underneath. In the kitchen, you've suspended a sign reading "it's electrifying!" with a picture of Frankenstein's monster in the lightning trap.

"I know this is kind of verging into corpse territory, but I thought it was cute, if you don't like it-"

Aaron shakes his head quickly. "No, it's cute. Thank you."

The guest bathroom has sticky green gels over the tile.

"Ectoplasm," You smile, and Hotch falls even more in love with you.

"Everything is temporary, it's peel and stick. If you don't like anything, I kept the receipts, so we can return it-"

"Everything is perfect, honey. Is that it?"

You nod. "That's it."

His face falls a little, although he's quick to shield it.

"What?" You ask quickly. "Do you want something else?"

"I was hoping you'd pick the costumes, I'm no good with that s-"

You beam. "I did. They're in the bedroom."

Aaron smiles at that. "You think of everything. I love you."

You lead him to the bedroom, and you're delighted to walk him through the costumes, a mixture of thrifted items, costume pieces, makeup, and a wig for you.

"Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein?"

"Partner of Frankenstein," You correct him. "I thought since I kind of themed the house as the Haus Frankenstein, we could be the Frankensteins. And I was talking to my friend about it and we thought you looked kind of like Boris Karloff."

Aaron raises an eyebrow.

"In a good way!" You interject. "I think he's sexy."

He grins and pulls you in by the waist. "Good."

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Let There Be Light - Thirty Seven

**Ghosts POV**

               ‘It’s not her’

               A couple hours went by and with each girl that was sold off, I gripped the ends of the chair I was sitting in a little harder – knowing good and damn well that I was about to break this bitch apart. There was nothing I could do without blowing my cover, Nik’s cover and the guys outside. It was too risky. No doubt, I could probably obliterate every soul in this shit hole, but I needed to play this smart if I wanted to find my girl. I just need ten minutes with Michael, and I could assure you, he’d be talking.

               The guy’s chime through my earpiece throughout the hellacious show I was forced to watch – thanks to the room being bugged. Luckily, the same drugged waitress kept coming by asking me if I needed anything and I could use my words to answer her, but really it was to answer the guys.

               Another hour went by, and I was hoping the drugged girl wasn’t done making her rounds. This time, I had a question for her. My patience was wearing thin the more I watched these girl – too young at that, and to be sold as if it was a cattle auction. Thank whatever God was listening that the windows were tinted because I was ready to rip throats out.

               A soft knock to my door perked my ears as I roughly told whoever it was to come in – hoping it was the waitress. To my luck it was. “Do you need anything sir?” she asks as her words were slurring.

               “Actually, there is,” I reply. I watched as her face dropped lower than what it already was. She probably already thought I was some sleazy guy buying a few girls and just wanted to take advantage of her even more than she already had been. She never responded, but dropped her eyes so she couldn’t look at me.

               “I would like to speak with the host,” I pause as I watch her face light up just a bit realizing I’m not here to hurt her. “I believe his name is Michael.” The girl nodded her head as she now kept her eyes locked onto mine.

               “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hear Price demand in my ear. I ignore him. I had a game plan that hopefully would work, but Michael was a smart fucker.

               “I will come get you when we are done sir,” the girl says as she struggles to walk out of the room. I look down at her feet. She’s still wearing the heels that are too high for her to walk in and I took note that blood was starting to creep out of the top strap on top of her foot.

               I sit back down in my chair watching these poor innocent souls get sold to their ‘new’ homes. A part of me hated myself for not doing anything, while the selfish side of me was glad it wasn’t Harley – because there’s no telling what I would do.

               Another hour went by, and my earpiece remained rather quite, which was odd considering the request I had asked from the waitress. Another soft knock came from the door behind me, and I knew it was her. I get up out of my chair to open the door, but before I could grip the handle, the door opened.

               The man himself stood before me. My jaw clenched immediately as I wanted to give this mother fucker the worst. One for Harley, and two for the innocent girls he was making money off of. I quickly had to remember who I was and where I was before I blow my cover. Two guards stood behind him. Pussy. One of the guards was a tall Russian with icy blue eyes while the other was Nik – his eyes wide.

               I knew what Nik was probably thinking – Fuck they found out. I reach my hand out for Michael to take – like a proper gentleman would. “Please to meet you,” I say with the fakest smile on my face. Michael stood there for a few seconds before returning the handshake, but his grip not firm. Coward.

               “I didn’t see you purchase any of our girls Mr. Mercer. Is everything okay?” he asks me narrowing his eyes. I knew he was suspicious and maybe I was scoping the place out. I mean if those were his thoughts, he wasn’t wrong.

               I withdrawal my had from his, “Not to my liking,” I say as Michael scoffs jerking his head back offended. “I’m looking for a specific type of girl if you catch my drift,” I start with. “Not any will do and I’m willing to pay whatever dollar amount that you see fit.” Hook, line and sinker. One thing I remember Harley saying about this fuckface was that he loved his money and his arrogance.

               “Ahh yes,” he starts off with. The offended expression on his face now vanished and replaced with a hungered look, “What exactly are you looking for Mr. Mercer.”

               I cock my head to the side, “Decent height. Not too tall and not too short. Hair has to be dark. Eyes, the brightest green. Skin, soft to the touch, but has scars because I want to know the stories behind them. Teeth, she has to have all of them,” I pause I realize how soft I am sounding at the moment. “And her body, it has to be fit and toned, so she can handle myself and the things I have in mind,” I end with a devilish smile.

               “Military?” he asks me nonchalantly.

               “Preferably,” I say looking at his eyes.

               Michael grins as his smile spread across his evil face, “I like them feisty,” I say trying to not sound so eager.

               Michael pats my shoulder as a low chuckle comes out of him, “I have just the one for you. She just came in a few days ago,” he pauses, “But she’s not cheap.” His tone dark.

               “And I don’t have a price limit,” I throw back.

               Michael straightens his posture up and fixing the jacket to his suit. “Now that is what I’m talking about,” he says as he turns to his two guards. “A man with a purpose and not letting anything get in his way.”

               He was right. Nothing was going to stand in my way and if it or they did, to hell they go. My heart fluttered in my chest because I just knew he was talking about Harley.

               “When can we make these arrangements?” I ask him. My voice deep.

               Michael takes in a deep breath, “Mr. Mercer, this girl is of high value. My most expensive and most prized one yet. She will be at least one million out right. I would give it a week,” he says jauntily.

               “I’ll give you two million to put a rush on it and let me make the transaction tonight,” I reply coldly. I wasn’t trying to come off as needy or persistent, but I was getting tired of this fucker’s games and the last thing I did was trust anything he had to say.

               Michael clicked his tongue, “Needy needy Mr. Mercer. I would have to get her cleaned up and presented to you,” he says as he narrows his eyes at me yet again. I felt like he was catching on. “As a matter of fact, give me half up front and I can make this happen by tomorrow morning.”

               Fuck.

               I reach my hand out for him to shake, “Deal.” He takes my hand and nods his head.               

               “Pleasure doing business with you Mr. Mercer,” he says as he walks away. I clenched my jaw even harder knowing good and well my teeth were about to crack. Nik eyes me and shook his head just enough to where I could see him.

               Did I just fuck up? I ask myself.

               “You better hope you didn’t just fuck this up Simon,” I hear Price say through my earpiece. I hope I didn’t either. Nik led me out of my room and back to the main entrance – not saying a word. I walked back through and was thanked for coming by the guards as the black SUV pulled up from the valet. One of the German guards opened the door, and I climbed inside.

               The SUV drives off, but I wait to say anything. I don’t trust anything at this point. After a few turns, I spot a hotel not far from the place Michael held his fucked up event. “Stop here at this hotel,” I tell the driver. He quickly pulls over and stops in front of the hotel.

               I get out and walk inside. Thoughts of Paris filled my mind from walking in. As a contractor, its not often we get the luxury of staying in hotels, but my favorite time will forever be in Paris.

               “Excuse me,” I say as I walk up to the front desk. The lady turned around and grew wide eyed when she saw me, “Do you have any rooms available?” I ask her. I look down at her name tag, Rebecca. Her face is starting to blush as I roll my eyes. Here we go.

               “I have two rooms available, sir,” she says as she flashes me a flirtatious smile. “One is our queen room with two queen beds and then we have our king suite. It’s our best room on the top floor. One king bed with a balcony and large living ro-.”

               “I’ll take it,” I say cutting her off. Her voice was fucking annoying.

               “S-sure,” she says. I watch as she brushes a piece of hair out of her eyes as they lock onto mine. “Is it um, just you or will you be having anyone accompanying you?” she asks me seductively.

               “My wife will be here shortly,” I answer her coldly. Her face changed by the snap of a finger, and I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. I knew if Harley was here, she would have already drugged this poor girl from behind the desk and used it to pound her skull in. God, I love that girl.

               The sound of a key card getting slapped against the wood brought me back to reality, “Cash or card?” she asks with an attitude.

               “Cash,” I say as I pull out my money from my pants pocket.

               I pay the girl at the desk, take my cards and head to my room. Again, my earpiece was quiet. I wait to say anything until I reach my room.

               The lock to the door clicked open and I stepped into the suite – checking every inch of the place to make sure there weren’t any intruders or bugged. Nothing.

               “I need a favor,” I say out loud. I know to the normal everyday person I may look crazy and like I am talking to myself.

               “A million dollars?” Gaz says.

               “Yeah,” I reply.

               “And where do you think we have that kind of money?” Price was clearly aggravated.

               “Look,” I start off with dryly, “We get the money send it to him. Track the money and find the problem.”

               The voices in my earpiece silent.

               “He’s onto something Captain,” I hear Soap say taking up for me. I wouldn’t have just agreed to handing over a million dollars without some kind of plan.

               “Fine. Just let me know when and we will get it transferred,” Price tells me.

               I fold back the blankets on the bed before laying down. I cross my feet over one another before propping my head up behind my folded hands. She was close, I could feel it – and come tomorrow, she may just be back in my arms.

[consultingskeletondetective]

BANANA BACK FROM VACATION!!

And here we are again blessed with a Virginal chapter omggg! I am so mad and sad that I only got to read it now but oooooooooooh was it worth it <3333 Please Michael listening when reader calls him a "good boy" hnnnnnng my brain almost went offline 😭💓 Also that he didn't like the condom.... PLS that man.... just does whatever he likes 😭😭(and I love him for it)!! Thank you for feeding the brainrot further - I needed that!! Keep up the amazing work <333 Returned banana🍌💓

BANANA

Iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

Also hope you had a lovely holiday! ❤️❤️

Michael has a sub deep in there somewhere 🤭

Reader: we should use condoms

Michael: and I took that personally

[birdo-is-here]

Here’s a fun fact: Lucifer and Michael have always and will always get along splendidly

U yeah here’s a bit of writing set some time in the past . another fun fact, Michael used to be quite the asshole

Written in the rp format bc we gettin silly w it

no warnings for this one I don’t think? Lemme know if I missed any pls

OHHH LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN. [Lucifer placed his arms behind his back as he sauntered over to Michael, a mean sneer already forming on his face] Having fun slaughtering my people you twattish pig—

[Michael returned his aggression with a similar fire, his feathers immediately beginning to bristle]

Your “people” are sinful, wild beasts who best deserve to be put down by—

[Lucifer snarled, suddenly advancing on Michael. Michael’s javelin appeared in his hand, causing the demon to halt, though he still seemed ready to attack at any moment]

GOD YOU. FUCKING. SAY THAT, DON’T YOU?

Your demons are fucking lucky to be getting rescued by the likes of me—

[The demon balled his fists, squaring up to the angel.] KEEP BLOODY TALKING RIGHT NOW WE’LL SEE HOW IT GOES

OI

[Both of them faltered as the new voice joined the fray. Oh, right. Azrael was still here]

[Azrael didn’t seem particularly bothered by the argument; granted, it was a common occurrence. They more seemed annoyed by the distraction]

Would you two shut up for two minutes please? I’m trying to work.

[The pair backed off, albeit very begrudgingly. Michael seemed to literally vibrate with rage, an oddly cat-like growl continuously escaping its throat. It did not take long for Lucifer to point it out]

What are you gonna turn into a fucking car and drive away?? Gonna go vroom vroom?? you fuck

What the hell even IS a car ASSHOLE

MAYBE YOU’D KNOW IF YOU WEREN’T SO—

‘AY WHAT I SAY

[They backed off again. Glares were still exchanged. Michael continued to growl, though it was quieter now]

Michael, you do need to calm down. Lucifer, cars haven’t even been invented yet, you’re too early. He has a perfectly good reason to not know what a car is.

[Lucifer huffed] Skill issue if y—

Shhhut. up. Shut up. Both of you. The conversation is over.

[Michael followed their orders — Lucifer eventually did as well. He wasn’t entirely sure what gave them the right to decide what he should be doing; Who was the Supreme Archangel here? Still, he didn’t argue.]

[faithfromanewperspective]

#yes this. everything about this.#pls pls pls for the love of everything still good & pure in this world#stop treating celebrities like toys & puppets & instead like actual humans with feelings 100% yes!!

and because i forgot to add in the original rant (trying to make it more generic celebrity wise or fell out of my brain or smth idk) in terms of 5 seconds of summer this especially pisses me off because one of the things i really REALLY love about them is their ability to make music that is fun and sexy and passionate and a good time for everyone without ever objectifying whoever they're singing about. and this shouldn't be a rare thing, it makes for much cuter songs and a much safer feel for music in general but there are enough shitty people out there who are successful musicians that it really does stand out as a precious gift that they bring to the world. I'd hate to think that people who do behave so ethically (they really do) in a world where they could kinda get away with not, people who have consistently over the years stood up for their fans even when we were belittled or patronised, bringing respect to a platform mostly of teen girls who are so often brushed off as emotional, hormonal, dramatic etc, who every show in the most heartfelt way always say how they wouldn't be doing this if it weren't for all of us, how much they love and appreciate anyone who's connected with their music ever--that the fandom would treat them in a disgusting way. it's like saying that oh, you can be ethical and caring and do so many things right even when no one tells you to, but there are always going to be predators even among your own fans, what does it matter?

and then the saddest thing is that i'm actually not surprised. i'm not surprised that given the heavy nature of some of the topics they sing about, there are people who attach themselves onto the songs they feel seen in, attach themselves to them, are hurting and numb to good in the world in so many ways that they don't care, and in their hurt they hurt people. these people need help, need love, need to be seen, but we also need our musicians to feel safe among the people they give their lives for, to know that they can keep doing what they love and a few people aren't going to, enabled by the rest of the fandom because no one would do that if they didn't think they'd have an audience for it, mess things up and instill fear and that feeling of dysphoria when you're absolutely spent on what you're passionate about but the people you love don't give you what you need in return.

by this point anyone reading this probably already agrees with me but, if you have a chance to either condone or stand against this behaviour please do the right thing and let's make it so that this generation of artists has it better than some people we've seen suffer at, have their personal lives ruined by, and even die at the hands of crazed fans (i don't worry too much for these guys there at the level of fame they're at, but things could change. i do worry for taylor). we have the power to set the cultural norms. because i'd also not be surprised, if ashton and luke and calum and michael see these fans as they are, hurting people in need of love and being seen, and don't stand up for themselves as much as they should--i hope they do, but i also feel like there will always be things people do that they let slide that they shouldn't have to, because these things shouldn't happen at all. these guys have done immense good and i honestly really hope we can make it clear that we're here for them too.

do you know how much the way certain fans feel this sense of ownership of celebrities they love and relate to pisses me off and has for years?

like I’ve been a young teen in the days one direction was big. I’ve made mistakes and said things I don’t morally agree with to fit in when I’ve been asked about celebrity crushes, artists I like etc. I learned not to trust fanfics with celebrities in them because I’ve read enough that have made me uncomfortable often in hindsight even if I enjoyed them at the time (not saying we can’t do ethical fics, but this is just an area I don’t engage with and so I’m not an expert in). I’ve had to see the same thing happen, in smaller ways, to people I love who were successful at something or attractive or whatever and as a result the people around them didn’t grant them the freedom they deserve and have a right to.

if I think too hard about it I reflect on the fact I might’ve lost the closest person I knew to a soulmate to this: they left the toxic environment I knew them from, and I knew at the time even that I was a reminder of that time of them, I had to let them go. What I’m saying I guess is this is personal, I do know something of what it’s like, I’m not trying to make it impossible to be a fan.

because I also understand the feeling of ‘no one gets me but X, I’m alive because of X, I find solace in their music or other art form and I’d die for a chance to meet them and I know I’m obsessed as a trauma reaction I can’t just stop’

like all you have to do is remember they’re a person with trauma too. and they’re baring themselves to share that, an incredibly vulnerable thing, they’re trusting us to take care of them. millions of us often who get it and are strengthened because of it as we get through whatever we’re going through. the impact is profound. and this goes both ways.

I remember when Taylor released red and I remember that it was the lucky one that made me realise the way celebrity worship culture had infiltrated into my high school. I remember even then, the emotions of the song convincing me I’d support her if she did disappear from the spotlight. That penny dropped so long ago I can’t remember it but. It’s not easy to be vulnerable with people who go crazy over you and unless you’re real intentional about it and have great boundaries, it’s not sustainable. At all. And this is where it’s our responsibility like it is with the way we tread lightly (or need to, badly) on our planet: we need to adopt the same attitude for our celebrities. Especially the ones we love.

because can you imagine being thrust into that world when you yourself are a teenager, too young to know what boundaries even are? When you’re a teenager who’s from a background of obscurity and struggling to fit in as it is, hungry for love and validation and already used to working hard and beating yourself up at everything bad that happens that you may or may not have had any control over?

I can’t speak for the background of most celebrities but I do know what it’s like to grow up in western sydney in the early 2000s, creative and sensitive and likely neurodivergent in a world that doesn’t know what that is, in a world where we don’t think of ourselves as special or deserving of any sort of thing we might need, in a world where we survive by pleasing people and working hard. It makes for the most humble successful people you’ll ever meet who know how to have empathy and care and will probably work themselves—I know because I’ve done it—into the ground at any chance to have a meaningful difference in someone’s life.

and this is a trend that happens regardless of gender. women are objectified all the time, and as a society we’re starting to call that out. Good. If you’re trans people are weird and predatory all the time, and we’re starting to have conversations where we realise that. Good. And shaming people who are so horrible to such a vulnerable population. But if you’re a man, it doesn’t mean you’re immune to it. Especially if you’re good looking.

being a teenager in the 2010s means being part of a world and generation that was insane over boy bands and when you’re a teenager going through the things and finding comfort in music, you’re not all that powerful, just a vulnerable child. But we grew up, we’re in our 20s now, and we’re adults with power and we have to be conscious of that. Stalking is predatory behaviour, thinking back to the wedding people crowded outside of a month or so back. Recording someone in their private dressing room is predatory behaviour. These are things that if they happened to you, you would call the police, and if it continued, you would get a restraining order. Celebrities aren’t any different to you in that, except for the fact that this is normal fan behaviour to many apparently.

this needs to stop. If we want celebrities we can connect with to continue existing publicly we have to remember that they’re humans first. And go a step further: think about the fact that private jets are causing so much environmental damage and we have to do something about them. But celebrities can’t be normal people commuting where they have to go. They’re constantly on display and if you want to come across as a good person you have to be friendly to every fan. Even if you’re neurotypical, and many of our most talented are not, this is exhausting. Trust me when I say the best thing you can do for the environment, for the celebrities you love, for the music industry, anything, is treat them as normal people and connect with people who find comfort in their art like you do so you don’t feel alone: rather than thinking celebrities are yours to own in any way because of the impact they’ve had on you, and then being weird and gatekeepy at other fans.

this applies to any fandom really, but especially to those for celebrities who do decide to be vulnerable in their art. who tend to be kind with a tendency to people pleasing and possibly overwork too. who capture our hearts in so many ways and yes maybe their looks might play a part in it. who we’ve grown up with and maybe that means they started as kids too, had to learn boundaries the hard way and probably have still active trauma from that experience that’s impacting them and their personal lives because that’s what trauma does. who still decide to say nice things about how much they appreciate their fans all the time instead of ever taking it out on us.

but we can see their trauma in their songs when they are being vulnerable, and their success means that there are some of us who get it. A youth that was stolen and filled with mistakes/I turned all around look for someone to blame/but I’m over dramatic and drenched in my pain. I know I’m not the only one who that hit home for. So use your heads. You say you care and yet you turn people who care for you as much as they physically can when their fan base is in the millions into objects who exist for your own pleasure without thought to whether it’s hurting them. we need to do better.

(thank you @confusionmeisss for inspiring this rant)

[charnelhouse]

are…. are we going to get michael myers content…. i am shaking and crying and throwing up pls,,,, i will sell u my soul.

A/N: Michael Myers x F!Reader. This is dark. Probably dub-con/non con. stockholm syndrome. violence. torture. rough sex.

It starts like this -

In the doom and gloom of her latest Halloween, she watches shadows burst open across Haddonfield and its kitschy streets and square-box houses. Sirens squeal flame-hot through the air. There’s a far away scream. The ripple of agony and grief sweeping through the rotting pumpkins and trimmed hedges.

She walks over clutters of leaves, listening to them crunch like shards of bone beneath her heels. She already knows what’s waiting for her at the end of this. She knows that he’s fulfilled his blood-lust and now has his other desires. His other needs.

She gingerly climbs the stairs to her house. Her new purchase. Her mistake as most neighbors would call it.

Why on earth would you buy that one?

Are you crazy?

Do you know? Don’t you understand what kind of house that is?

She does know. She knows all of it. Its gory history. The lore trapped in the floorboards. She strolls through the front door - tossing her keys into a bowl. They jingle in the dead-silence of the entryway. She moves to the kitchen. The house smells like sharp paint and turpentine and -

“Michael,” she murmurs so quietly that it’d be near-impossible to catch. A slip of wind - a velvet exhale from her parted mouth. But he hears it. He always hears her. He always knows exactly where she is and what she's doing. He looms in the shadows - the Shape - in his white mask and dark coveralls that are sticky with god knows what.

This is his house just as she is simply his. A possession. A piece. His victim if she were to ever dig deep enough to give herself that title

She recalls the very night that he finally broke her. She understands - vaguely - that this is Stockholm Syndrome and that this is wrong and terrible and her life is over in all the ways it had once mattered. But that particular night sits inside her ribs - swells with memory and a strange longing. He had come to her a year previous with the sky blooming violet and milky. The crisp wind and gnarled trees and how she had thought she had spotted him so many times in the distance.

It had been a cold autumn.

She had felt him pricking at the nape of her neck. She had heard him.

Waiting. Watching.

A week before Halloween, he had appeared - a ghost - unfolding like a specter in her bedroom doorway. That blank face and giant frame and she had thought - he's too big to be so quiet before realizing who he was -

But he hadn’t wanted to kill her - at least not immediately. He had just wanted her to believe it. He had chained her up for days, looming over her with his height devouring the wan light from her mirror. He had dragged the edge of a kitchen knife across her chest and pressed the flat of it over her heart. He had stared at her as she sobbed and pleaded frantically for her life. The black holes of his mask gave nothing away. Just endless and sightless and barren.

He would leave and then return. Shocking her. Scaring her. His boots caked in mud and what had suspiciously looked like flesh and grey brain matter.

This was the endless cycle of it. Again and again.

And then one night he had lifted his mask to reveal his naked face. She’d been stunned.

Beautiful. Marble. Chiseled. His one bad eye was pale as a fish-belly, but the good one was fog-grey blue. It had reminded her of the brunt of a storm. Her gaze traveled to the fruit-pink lips and then to his furrowed brow and the faint blush burning across his cheekbones. He crouched - his stare pinning her in place - nailing her to the wall. He touched her and she jerked.

He continued.

He traced her jaw with his fingers and then he dug his thumb into her lower lip and he leaned forward inch by inch - a predator stalking toward its prey despite the fact that her vision was clear and she saw what was coming.

He kissed her - insistent and blunt and more like a crash of mouths and teeth. It was wet and hot and clumsy. It blinded her.

She didn’t know what he wanted. She didn’t know what to do, but respond in kind. It had been weeks and she wondered if this was a life raft.

She kissed him back and just as her tongue met his, he stilled. Something deep and ugly rumbled from his chest before she felt pain sear across her belly. She dropped her chin to see a stain darkening the thin fabric of her tank top. He’d cut her. Not too badly, but it ached. Tears sprang to her eyes as she pressed her hand to her stomach. He left her like that. Bleeding and alone on freezing bathroom tile.

It took her several more mind games to realize that everything was always on Michael’s terms. He kept her tied up - only allowing her to use the phone in order to not raise alarm. He fed her and frightened her and occasionally brought her dead things like he was her enormous cat.

Slowly - deliberately - he won.

***

His hands are on her - the smell of him like iron and sweat. He smears red across her forearms before he tugs her hard against his chest. Michael is made up of flat planes and curves - the ripple of muscles and broad shoulders. He is perfect physically aside from the blinded eye. Part of her believes that even that imperfection gives him something - a mistake that seems almost correct to his makeup.

“Michael,” she says again as he rubs against her - the hefty bulge of his cock pushing into her ass. He’s breathing hard, the pattern of it muffled behind the mask.

She doesn’t want the mask tonight - she wants him. But that’s not her decision to make.

He shoves her toward the kitchen - his hand firm at her back before he’s forcing her down over the table. He reaches around her hips to cup her pussy - thumb slipping through her cotton-covered folds. She’s soaked. She’s been wet since she heard the sirens - felt it in the air - heard the panic from the neighbors.

Go home. The streets aren’t safe.

Someone’s been killed. Strung up. Blood everywhere.

There must be a copycat. There must be someone else because Michael is dead.

Michael is dead. Myers is dead. I know. I know. I saw it myself.

But Michael is hot and sweaty against her - his heart thrumming with his adrenaline in the quiet stillness of the room. It’s such a strange scene. The expensive plates and delicate teacups. The floral-printed hand towels. The bowl of fruit that goes flying when she accidentally knocks it away. The pristine beauty of this kitchen that she has worked so hard to maintain is marred by the smear of the Shape. He stands in layers of dirt and grime as he restrains her against the table. She is unsettled by the fact that she wants it - she is desperate for it. She craves him like nothing else. Her body sings for him.

Michael’s hold is unrestrained - brutal, really. His gore-damp fingers all over her - painting her - clutching her pussy possessively because it’s his. Her skin and mind and guts - everything circulating inside her is Michael’s.

She doubts he cares for her. She certainly doubts that he loves her. He’s incapable. But - still - she can pretend. When had broken her so completely the year before - when he’d ruined her - scrambled her head - it was her own tongue crying out: i love you michael i love you i love you please don’t leave don’t leave me here -

He’d pulled her into his arms and let her rest her cheek against his chest. He’d stroked her waist - the hot bare skin coated in him. He’d massaged the marks he’d left by his fingerprints and the chafing of the rope. He’d made soothing, mouth sounds and she’d sunk into him - gone soft and pliant and easy as she breathed his name with wild reverence -

He’d been kind. He’d been gentle. He had seemed like he had cared. She clung to that.

He flips her skirt up as he pins her to the table. The edge is cutting into her thighs and she’s being nearly lifted off her feet. She hears him unzip himself - open up those coveralls that are coated in a thin film of whatever he’d done today. There is the blunt snag of his cock at her entrance. He rips her panties to the side - the brief sting of them digging into her flesh until they give way. Michael cock catches on the rim of her hole before he rears back and then slams forward, sheathing himself to the hilt. She’s feverish and sopping. She’s ready for him, but it still feels as if he’s splitting her in half. Michael is huge. He is and the stretch is something that continues to shock her. She feels as if every rut of his dick will hit the back of her throat - will stab into her heart and she’ll die from Michael fucking her so roughly. He grunts as he draws his hips before sliding in again - boring down upon her with his calloused, blood-slick fingers gripping her hips.

She clings to the surface - nails scraping across the wood. Each thrust jars her upward - forces a whimper out of her mouth. The table creaks and bends. She’s not entirely sure if she can scream - if Michael would allow it since the neighbors could hear. There are cops and ambulances only blocks away. She’s overwhelmed - trying frantically to accept all of him - take all of him. He’s fucking her apart and she bites her tongue to swallow the noise that steadily builds in her throat.

No one can know. No one can suspect who she keeps in this house.

It’s a copycat. It has to be.

It can’t possibly be him. He’s dead.

Michael’s cock continues to spear molten through her - pushing up against her core - her cervix. There’s the echoing squelch of her pussy swallowing him. The rough fabric of his pants grazing her bare skin.

She feels his fingers slide through her folds - caressing the place where he is connected to her. He will tease and probe until she begs him and she knows that he will only make her cum for the benefit of himself - to feel her walls clench and grip him so deliciously tight. His breathing is labored now. His pace grows sloppy.

Her knees are weak and it’s only Michael who is holding her up. If he stepped away, she'd collapse to the floor. His sharp hips barrel into her thighs as he screws her into the unforgiving kitchen table. He continues to trace the seam of her sex - he nudges his thumb over her clit, making her gasp. His other hand palms her ass cheek before digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise.

“Please, Michael,” she pants. “Please. Please. I-I need to - want to -”

He flicks her clit harshly and then slaps it. It does the job. She shrieks - her lower muscles spasming and her cunt fluttering around Michael’s punishing length. He’s quick to follow - a rasping grunt shudders from his hulking frame. There’s the warm bloom inside her that begins to drip as he slips from her raw pussy.

She hears the mask drop to the floor and she knows it’s not over. This is just the beginning. He’s sated that initial hunger - the one that always burns fast and harsh through him after a kill. He’s exhausted himself to a point, but it won’t last long. His hands are on her - his thick forearms banding around her waist as he lifts her against his muscular chest. She peers up at him and loses her breath. His caramel hair, damp with sweat, curls boyishly around his temples. His blue eye scans her face lazily - soft from the haze of post-orgasm. Her lips quirk and she decides to take a chance. She reaches for the knife-sharp line of his jaw, hoping that he will accept her touch.

Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn’t.

She knows she’s made a mistake almost immediately. His brow creases and he snatches her hand. He holds it tight enough that it hurts - jostles her bones. It’s a threat. He can snap her wrist and fingers if he wanted. He could crush her head like a melon.

“Don’t,” he warns as he releases her. His voice is low and raspy with disuse. It is always a shock to hear him. A drop of water in this devastating desert of a house.

She longs for him to speak again.

The wind howls outside - knocks against the shutters - scrapes the paint and the screen door. The high-pitched flicker of a wind chime. The sirens are still wailing far away.

He carries her upstairs.

[gridgirldrabbles]

hey can you pls write a hurt/comfort trope w any driver & reassurance !!

this gave off big Daniel vibes for me, I hope that’s okay!!

you had posted on Instagram earlier in the day and the comments were varied to say the least

while some fans were more than supportive and made you feel amazing about yourself, it seemed like others were intent on destroying every shred of self confidence you’d ever had

your insecurities grew with every comment you read, tears slowly making their way down your face

it was like you couldn’t stop reading them as much as you wanted to

you heard the front door open as Daniel returned from his training session with Michael, his voice reverberating through the house as he called your name

you frantically wiped at your damp face, not wanting him to see how upset you were

you knew he had a lot going on right now so you didn’t want to add to his stress in any way

you called out to him telling him you were in the bedroom

as soon as he opened the door he could tell something was wrong

your eyes were red, your under eyes still slightly damp, as you wrapped yourself in one of his oversized hoodies with the sleeves tugged over your hands

‘what’s wrong sweetheart?’ and with that the floodgates opened

he flew onto the bed as small sobs left your mouth, hand trying to keep the noises at bay with little effect

daniel’s arms secured themselves around you protectively as his hand caressed your hair trying to calm you down

‘talk to me darling, then we can sort it out’

you shook your head, ‘it’s stupid’

‘if it’s making you this upset then it’s not stupid’

you explained the comments and the effect they were having on your self esteem

you were constantly second guessing yourself; did you look too fat? too skinny? too pale? were you boring?

his heart broke as he looked down as your shaking figure, he couldn’t help but feel like he was somewhat responsible in a way

it was his “fans” who were causing you to feel this way

‘why are you even with me?’

the frown situated on his face deepened with your words

‘because I love you, and I love everything about you’

he was playing soft kisses on the top of your head as he spoke

‘I love how you make me laugh more than anyone else, I love how you always come on adventures with me, I love how supportive you are, I love how you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, I love how drop dead gorgeous you are, inside and out’

his words had painted a small smile on your features, your tears subsiding as you were overwhelmed with love from your boyfriend

you wrapped your arms around him, both of you falling onto your backs, your head resting on his chest

‘thank you Dan’ you snuggled your face into his chest ‘I’m sorry for getting upset’

‘you never need to apologise for that, I’m always going to be here to cheer you up’

[melis-writes]

MOTH TO FLAME PART II ANNOUNCED & COMING SOON!

It's official, I'm continuing my Michael Corleone x Reader smut fanfic "Moth to Flame"!! Say hello to Moth to Flame: Part II! 😏❤

The news that you didn't know you needed or was coming, but it's here!! 🤩🙏🏻 37 chapters and 8 oneshots later in the fic, Michael and Victoria's story is far from over and I'm continuing it!

AO3 | MASTERLIST | THE MAKING OF MOTH TO FLAME (I) & (II) | FIC PLAYLIST | PROMPTS | SMUT PROMPTS |

I know what my readers want and have definitely been paying attention to what everyone's requesting and wanting to see especially through oneshot feedbacks and constant Victoria x Michael prompts in my inbox. 👀

That's not to mention the fact I'm already well through the process of planning out an entire new plot arc for the fic that couldn't ever fit into a single oneshot, let alone 5+. 😅

1956 canon year, baby Vincent's birth, and a whole lot more of the drama, angst and smut I know you guys have loved throughout the fic. 🤗💞

As for the two endings? Sure, they could apply if you wish. 😌 Or you can just ignore them entirely. 😂

👀 What will we see in Moth to Flame: Part II? 👀

Let's just say Victoria Ferrari Corleone has her own dark secrets that she'd never want revealed to the light of day...

More of Connie and Leonardo's marriage and relationship.

Baby Vincent's birth with Michael and Victoria's adjustment after the attempt on Victoria's life by Kay.

Central themes of forbidden love, jealousy, blackmail, betrayal, distrust, secrets, impact on the Corleone and Ferrari family reputations, and murder.

A revenge arc with a new character (and a returning one nobody ever expected) that will pull on heartstrings, cause rifts, distrust and ultimately lead to more tragedy.

A focus on Michael and Victoria's romantic, sexual and marital life.

More of the twins growing up and their personalities forming.

More holidays and family time spent with the Corleone's such as Father's Day, etc.

More of Victoria's family and brothers.

👀 How many chapters?! More than one ending? 👀

We're looking at about 11 new chapters so far (maybe more, maybe less, we’ll see!) because as you know, I may always increase/decrease that depending on how the plot goes. ����😂 

There will be one canon ending only. 👁👁 Love it or hate it, it's bound to be the most thrilling and exciting end to the fic yet.

I don't like to say "never again", but I do think this will officially mark the end of "Moth to Flame" for good. 😌❤ I'll still be uploading new fics including new multi-chapter Godfather fanfics amongst other oneshots but will of course remain heavily focused on Moth to Flame Part II first. 😛

👀 When is the first chapter of Moth to Flame: Part II coming out? 👀

I'm going to try and have regular fic uploads on Pacino Saturdays 😂❤ but please keep in mind I don't have a rigid schedule for any fic uploads. Life and work also keep me busy but I love to post regular updates of how chapters/fics are going, especially if they'll be uploaded earlier or later than expected. 🙏🏻 Pls respect this. 🥺 Amidst balancing other fics and prompts, as much as I love writing I don't work under pressure and definitely don't want to come down to writer's block or a burnout doing what I adore. 💔

The first chapter is coming out hopefully by the end of next week or maybe earlier!! 🤞🏻

[twinklelilstarkey]

Stopping You - Michael Gray [Part 11]

Words: 10.8k+

Summary: Y/N and Michael finally decide to talk about what happened.

Warnings: Female!Reader. 18+. Smut, unprotected sex [pls use a condom]. Cheating! Overthinking. A very slight mention of blood.

Prologue    Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4    Part 5     Part 6    Part 7   Part 8    Part 9    Part 10    Part 11

“Oh, shut up!” You laugh out loud.

Finn laughs from beside you, laying on his back over Polly’s carpet as you lay on her couch on your stomach, looking down at the youngest Shelby brother.

“I would never do such thing.” You defend yourself, “Is that what you really think of me, Finn?”

Finn laughs with you as he stares up at you, hands resting on his chest, as he continues to assume how possible it is for you scare any girl that he’s interested in, away.

“Oh, please.” He says with a playful look on his face, “You would probably make her so many questions about her life choices that she would just run off.”

“Well, sorry if I continuously look out for you.”

The front door of Polly’s home swings open and almost makes you and Finn sit up by how high you two jumped from how it startled you.

You had been so focused on the conversation that you didn’t even hear the motor of a car outside. And now you two are acting as if you were caught talking about something you shouldn’t have been.

Polly walks inside the house, dark cigarette over her lips, and soon walks in Michael, following her every step.

“But why would he transfer the money if he didn’t need it?” He asks his mother, frown over his face as he closes the door behind him.

Polly shrugs at his words and takes off her furry jacket, leaving it by the hanger before taking the cigarette from her lips and exhaling a large cloud of smoke out of her lungs.

Her eyes move off her son, who has most of his back turned to you and Finn, and Polly finds you, almost falling off the couch from the strange position.

“Why are you on the ground?” She asks Finn, gaining a smile from the two of you.

“It’s comfortable.” He answers.

Michael looks over his shoulder and his eyes meet yours right away. Finn’s answer is able to manipulate a slight grin on his face, which hovers over his lips. There is no vocal answer on his part, just silence and a look of amusement.

It’s been almost a week since your nightmare, a total of 5 days to be exact. And Michael has been in Polly’s house for most of those days, mainly surrounded by work and nothing else.

You’ve questioned Polly about it after he left for the hotel and all you got as an answer was that he was trying to prove to Tommy that he can be forgiven. Quite odd, but who are you to question that?

At least 3 of the nights of those 5 days, Michael slept over at Polly’s. For a reason you do not know why, but it surely has to with Gina. You didn’t ask Polly about it, assuming she wouldn’t know, but honestly because it sounded wrong just to imagine yourself questioning such a thing.

Like said before, he had been working for most of his time over at the house, hidden in Polly’s office or seated at the dinner table, surrounded by papers while holding a cigarette between his fingers or lips as a way to lift off his stress.

You two didn’t talk much, but most of your conversations were in the mornings. Like the one after the night of the nightmare. They would end when his mind was somewhere lost in the papers and you two fell into the natural silence between sentences. You never disturbed him to keep the exchange of words alive, therefore, the talking of the day was done.

Michael and Polly continue their conversation soon after taking their eyes off Finn and you and, slowly, start making their way to the kitchen, where most silence of the house resides.

Their voices are low, but you can tell that they’re talking about work - something you’ve been forcefully pulled away for these past few days.

You look back at Finn once they’re out of your field of view and he’s staring at the ceiling, deep in thought.

“Who’s occupying your mind, uh?” You tease him, poking his chest.

He snaps back to reality and looks over at you, playful smile on his lips as he adjusts his head on the tall pillow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He says back.

Your eyes widen at his words and a shocked expression twitches your features.

“So, there is someone in your mind?” You ask in a squeak, not controlling your vocal cords in a such exciting moment, “Finn Shelby, I cannot believe you.”

He stays silent, his smile just grows at your shocked and squeaky words.

“What’s her name?!” You ask in almost a scream, overly excited.

“I’m not telling you that,” He says, lifting and turning his head to the side on the pillow, “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, Finn, come on!” You drag out your words for dramatization, “Can you just tell me if you two are dating or not?”

He thinks for a second and you just stare at him as he does it.

Seconds later, he’s still silent, slowly getting on your nerves over playing with your excited emotions like that.

“I swear I won’t look into it, just please answer my question.” You plead.

Finn sighs, slowly giving up.

“Okay…” He breathes out, “I am not telling you her name. But…” You hold yourself up with your elbow in excitement, “We are dating.”

A loud gasp escapes your mouth, and you hold in another shriek of excitement over his words.

His smile is just enough for you to believe that he likes the girl too much to sell any more information about her to you, but you honestly couldn’t feel any happier.

“For how long?” You ask, holding yourself up to sit up, unable to contain your emotions.

“I’ve known her for a bit. Been dating for like… 2 weeks?”

Your jaw almost hits the floor, but before you could even ask why he didn’t tell you before, you got yourself the answer. You would’ve gone all inspector mode to try and find any girl in Birmingham that is overly happy about a certain event.

Nothing he wouldn’t do for you too. Plus… You were in a hospital not that long ago-

“Wow.” You sigh, falling back to lay on the couch, “You were seeing someone while I was dying?”

A loud laugh escapes Finn’s mouth and bite in your smile to continue your acting.

“No! God, I was seeing her before you got shot.” He tells you, “Good to know that’s what shocked you the most about my whole confession.”

“I have to have my priorities.”

He continues to smile up at you, finding your words so amusing that he’s finding it hard to hold his chuckles every time you open your mouth to speak.

“Does Polly know?” You ask him.

“No-”

Before he could have finished saying the simple word you’re already out of the couch and running to the kitchen.

Sure, it hurt a little to do that movement so quickly, but you’ve got a great mission up ahead… Tell Polly the big news: Finn has finally stopped having sex with everyone that has a pair of legs.

Finn laughs at your excitement yet doesn’t stop you. Polly will know now or later anyway.

Either you tell her now or someone will, in the future. Or worse, her second sight might let her know of the news when they’re in an argument.

A wave of chills runs through Finn’s spine at the thought, and he shivers absurdly as a reaction.

Thank god he told you first.

You run in the kitchen and Michael continues his conversation, not finding any problem with you hearing anything he’s saying.

You wait beside them for the conversation to end, hands behind your back, swaying back and forth on the heels of your feet like a child waiting for her parents’ permission to go play outside.

Michael finishes and Polly gives him a quick answer. You don’t care enough to hear them. You just want to dump out the news at the center of the table.

“Do you have that on paper?” She asks Michael and he nods, “Go get it.”

Michael nods again and leaves the room, leaving you to stare back at Polly with a huge smile.

“What do you want?” She asks.

She looks down at the ashtray as she dips the tip of her cigarette down, yet you see her hiding a playful smile, probably finding yours contagious.

“Finn just told me that…” You pause to add some suspense, “… he has a girlfriend!”

Polly, right on that second, looks up at you with widen eyes.

She stares at you, analyzing every small bit of your face, trying to see if you’re joking in anyway, but she finds nothing.

“He has a fucking what?” She whispers in shock.

(…)

It has been a few hours. All of you had lunch together, which was filled with a whole bunch of teasing Finn while he tried to hide behind his hands and act like he only wants to stare down at his food.

And, of course, while that happened, you tried not to choke in your water or water while laughing so hard.

Now, Finn is sitting beside Polly on the couch as she tries to squeeze out of him as much information as possible. Michael is standing by the couches, packing his stuff up to leave.

You make your way down the stairs, just returning from the bathroom, and Michael looks over his shoulder at you.

“Are you leaving already?” You ask him, curious.

“Yeah. Need to go take care of something.” He says, being careful with his words. Polly has been too careful with pulling you away from work, Michael doesn’t want to be the one to break that lack of information.

He looks back to what is in front of him, and you notice three boxes of what you believe is paperwork related to the family’s business.

Polly and Finn are still siting, deep into their whispers, probably hiding any kind of potentially important information about his girlfriend from you.

Before you can even tease them for their antics, Michael says something.

“Could you help me carry this one?” He asks.

You nod right away. It’s one of the smaller boxes, the emptiest too. It won’t even make you blink an eye with any possible discomfort.

He piles the two bigger, and fuller, boxes and grabs them, their height only reaching up to his chest. You grab the smaller one, holding it on your hip. You help Michael with the door and leave it slightly open before following him to his car.

The silence between you is not by any means uncomfortable. It’s quite comforting, actually.

Michael opens the backseat door open with some difficulty and turns back for you to give him the other box. You do it and as you’re about to turn and leave, he says something.

“Wait.” He says, making you look at him, “I have something for you.”

“For me?” You ask confused.

He doesn’t answer. He closes the door and walks over to the front seats, opening the passenger seat door, hiding whatever is in front of him with his body.

Michael turns and you have to bite your tongue to not say anything.

It’s a small bouquet of flowers, most of them being wildflowers, your favorite. The exact same ones that have quite a history when it comes to the two of you.

You and Michael didn’t argue in your relationship, but when it did happen, and when he would be the main reason behind those same fights, he would give you flowers.

It was a rare occasion for you to receive them, but this type of bouquet is Michael’s apologetic bouquet. Always has been. It has all your favorite flowers arranged just like you loved, always in the same way to show off their vibrant colors.

“What are you apologizing for?” You ask and a small grin forms on his lips.

You remember them.

“The same thing as I’ve been apologizing for the past few weeks.”

You extend your hand and take the bouquet from his hand, ignoring how your hand rested right above his for some good few splits of a second.

You bring the flowers close to you, hiding any kind of positive expression, as you admire them silently.

“There’s a note inside. But you can read it later.” He lets you know.

“I will.” You say, looking back up at him, but this time, with a small grin.

He nods, small smile prominent on his lips as he does it. He looks relieved, probably because you accepted his flowers in the first place, but, also, nervous, almost like those same flowers are a ticking bomb of some sort.

“I’ll see you later, then.” You decide to say, breaking the intense stare down.

“Yeah,” He exhales, “I’ll see you later.”

To escape any possibility of another stare down, you turn on your heels and start walking towards the house. As you stand up the porch, you steal a glance over your shoulder, already finding Michael looking straight at you.

You offer him a small smile, different from the grin, and finally step into Polly’s home.

The sound of Polly’s and Finn’s voices fill your ears, and you close the door behind you, trying not to look back at Michael, who is still standing by his car.

The front door closes, slowly, and Polly lifts her gaze to meet yours, finding the slow motion and lack of slamming of her door so unlike you. You step aside into view and a gasp escapes her lips.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” She says out loud.

“I’m afraid not.” You answer, eyebrows lifted, trying to show that you’re as shocked as she is.

She stands from beside Finn, who is as shocked, and walks towards you. She takes the flowers from your hands and analyzes them.

“Let me guess.” She says with a playful tone, “Another apology?”

You chuckle at her and she smiles brightly at you.

“You’re correct.” You announce, stealing a look at Finn, who looks amused, “Might have to write this one down as the official thousandth one.”

“I’m glad you’re keeping count.” Polly jokes with you making you smile.

She walks back to the kitchen to get a vase and you follow right behind her. Finn stands from the couch and does the same as you.

Polly sets them over the kitchen counter gently and looks around for the perfect vase, one you can later take to your own home, when you’re healed.

Finn walks up to the flowers and analyzes them silently, just like Polly. He brings up his hand and carefully pulls something out, a small envelope.

“I’m sure this is for you.” He says, handing the envelope to you.

You take it into your hands and hold it carefully close to you.

Polly starts filling the vase with water and looks back at you, staring down at the small paper, just the size of your hand.

“Well, open it!”

You smile at her tone and you do as told. Finn looks at you questioningly as you undo the top and Polly stops the water from running.

You take the small note from inside the envelope and put down it down. You unfold it, careful with making it face you and you only, and as the word meets your eyes, Polly swears she sees them brighten.

Meet me behind the barns tomorrow at 3.               – M

(…)

With both Polly and Finn at work, possibly at a meeting, you’re left to stay home alone until 3. You’ve taken your time to get ready. You’ve done your make-up, nothing too intense, just your normal light look, and have gotten dressed.

A floral green dress hugs your body, nothing unlike your usual style. Not a suit, but something you would wear when out with Polly at your day’s off. And on top of that, a long dark coat, which covers your body from any cold wind.

What even is going to happen today?

You step out of Polly’s home, keys in hand and coat closed enough to protect you from the harsh wind meeting you as soon as you make your presence to the outside world.

You climb in your car. Poor thing as been sitting there by the front of the house for days now, quite sad.

As you make your way to the familiar location, Michael is standing by his car.

He didn’t expect the day to be so cold and windy, but like any other place close to Small Heath, the weather is just unpredictable.

He shakes his cigarette, letting the white and bright red ashes fly with the wind as they burn at the tip of the poisonous, yet addicting and calming, stick. His eyes are stuck on the gravel under his feet, heart ponding against his chest and with his hands shaking.

It’s like taking you on your first date all over again.

He’s just a nervous and anxious wreck.

The sound of a car door closing in the distance makes him snap back from his thoughts and look over his shoulder. You’re right there, just a few meters away from him. Your jacket is open, falling by your sides, as its material and your thin dress move with the, now, calmer wind.

“Sorry for being a little late.” You apologize and he shakes his head.

“No worries.”

He leans away from his car and walks to stand beside you. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your jacket, shielding them from the cold, and with that he takes your outfit in, finding the flowers in the fabric somewhat familiar to his gaze.

“Should we start walking?” You break his trance.

“Uh- Yeah, yeah.” He nods.

The abandoned barn stands tall beside the two of you as you walk by it. This is just outside of Small Heath. A small barn where Tommy used to have some of his horses, ones that weren’t exactly for racing. Maybe family horses… Can you even call them that?

Right behind the old structure, is a vast field. One, that for you to meet its true beauty, you have to walk for some good few minutes or well… get yourself a horse and ride for not even 3 minutes.

The green fields meet your eyes and for a second, you feel like you’ve lost your ability to breathe. The air is clearer where you stand then from whatever corner you stand in the whole Birmingham, but god, it’s breathtaking.

No sight of pollution, of smoke or even of people. Just peaceful green, tall wild grass, trees scattered through each curve of the irregular grounds.

It’s as calm as nature can be.

You walk beside Michael, both of you admiring the familiar grounds you step on, yet not opening your mouths to break such a comforting silence.

The sounds surrounding you are nothing but the patter of your feet on top of the grass, which is so tall it comes close to your upper thighs, the wind hitting the tall leaves and making them hit your legs, the branches of the trees moving and making the leaves collide with one another, and simply the wind over your ears.

Everything so silent it even makes your ears seem to vibrate.

“God, Michael, you are unbelievable.” You tell the man behind you without even looking over your shoulder.

“You were the one that had the idea!”

“And you went with it!” You say in a louder tone at him, “You’re supposed to be the one with the brains in this relationship, not me.”

The man chuckles from behind you, each of you riding your own horses as the sun shines on the two of you, marking and showing nothing but its natural beauty of the season.

“We can still go back.” He says, reigns resting by his legs, letting the horse move on its own.

“And say what?” You ask with a smile, “Yeah, sorry, Polly. The party was the most boring idea ever, and we had to walk out?”

“Something like that.”

You exhale out a chuckle and shake your head.

“Why did she even let the neighbor plan out the party?” You ask him.

You look over your shoulder to stare at your boyfriend and he’s already looking at you.

“She said something about wanting to give the woman a chance.” He shrugs, “Did you expect any less from her? She has been apologizing to my mom for the past year, this party was the least she could’ve done.”

“A cake would’ve done it.”

Michael smiles in amusement at you and you continue to look at him.

“You really think you can buy your way to my mom’s heart with a cake?”

“I did.” You say and he rolls his eyes. “And it worked.”

“It worked because you were already part of the family. And hitting my mom’s side of the car is not the same as what you did.” He says defensively.

“I think what I did was quite horrid, if you ask me.”

“I thought it was funny.” He smiles.

“Yeah, well, that’s because you like seeing your crazy family in distress and me in trouble.” You defend yourself, checking the field in front of you to see if you’re close to your destination, “Seriously, Michael, you worry me sometimes.”

A loud cackle of disbelief escapes Michael’s lips and you grin at the sound.

“You broke a vase of flowers on my cousin’s head! You didn’t destroy a whole side of a car!” He tells you and you turn back to him.

“Yeah! I know! But it still made me almost pee myself in fear when it happened.” You confess, finding it almost impossible not to laugh, “I could’ve had nightmares with what could’ve been my consequence.”

“God, you’re dramatic.”

You smile and stop the horse, finally standing by the usual area.

“No, I’m just realistic.” You tell him, “Finn could’ve gotten hurt, and if he did… I could’ve been dead by now.”

“Wow!” Michael chuckles. “You’re just… out of this world.”

“Oh, thank you.” You say, finding his words, out of context, funny. “But still… I feel bad for leaving.”

“Don’t.” He says as you jump down off your horse, “My mom won’t care, and Finn left like 2 hours ago. Nobody cared.”

“Still… It’s your birthday Michael.” You tell him, “You should be celebrating it.”

Michael jumps out of his horse and brings the reigns to the front, walking over to you with the horse just a meter behind him.

As he lets go of the reigns, like any other time here, he stands tall in front of you, not caring that the horse is moving away to go eat the perfect patch of green grass not too far away. You look up at him and wait for him to say something.

“And I am.” He says, “I prefer to stay here with you, then eat whatever was on that table.”

He presses a kiss over your lips, and you gasp.

“That is mean, Michael!” You say defensively, “That woman worked very hard…! And all night!”

He thinks of what to say next for a bit.

“And you still gave the idea to leave.”

Your mouth opens in disbelief at his words.

“You’re heartless, Y/N.” He says, amusement thick on his tone, lips twitching to smile again.

You scowl and smack his chest, hard.

“You little bitch.” You curse him out, making him laugh and take a step back from you.

The silence stays thick between the two of you, yet as soon as the wind lifts off ever so slightly, Michael finds himself being curious. He steals a look your away and notices you’re walking while staring down at the grass.

“You’re quiet.” Michael comments out loud, snapping you back to reality.

You blink your thoughts away and quickly lift your head ever so slightly, not enough to stare at him but enough to see how much you still have to walk.

“So are you.” You whisper back at him, soft grin on your lips, “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

You look over at him, ignoring your overthinking mind that hesitates so much to do it, and to your surprise, he’s already looking at you.

“About…” You sigh stretching out the word in your lips, shifting your gaze forward once more, finding his eyes intrusive for some reason, “Old times?” You answer as a question, unsure. “The past few days have made me kind of stuck in memories, I guess.”

He nods, even though you’re not looking at him anymore, and also brings his gaze away from you to stare at the greenery at his front.

“That makes two of us.” He confesses.

“Really?” You ask, surprised.

“Yeah” He nods, again.

You nod, pursing your lips while saying to yourself mentally ‘who would’ve thought you’re not the only crazy one’, and, in a quick decision, you decide to blur out whatever is on your mind.

“Mine were actually about, uhm…” You hesitate, catching yourself and your urges midsentence, and Michael notices, bringing his gaze back to you, “That one time we both came here-” You sigh when lost for words and you shake your head slightly with a scowl.

Your discomfort over your own troubling thoughts doesn’t go unnoticed by Michael, and he decides to ease up some of it with his words.

“One time? Out of the thousand times we came here?”

You look back at him and feel yourself relax at his playful tone.

“Yeah. It was a quite special day, actually.” You add.

A full-on smile appears on the man’s face, pearly white teeth out to show amusement at your words.

“Again. Which one out of the hundreds of days like that?”

Your heart tightens at his words and you welcome them with a smile, shaking your head at his comment. Your hand lifts and lays over his arm, pushing him away from you as playful push for him to shup up such nonsense.

Michael looks down as the smile on his face stretches and a chuckle escape both of your mouths.

Your playful touch had been missed, and his body made it obvious to him. The way it warmed up and boiled after so many years of pure and utter cold.

Your hand falls back to your side as you two continue to walk in silence, eyes focusing on the path ahead.

In a simple matter of seconds, you find yourselves looking at each other, silently. Almost as if admiring one another.

“It was your birthday.” You admit, “The year before you left.”

“Why that one?”

You shrug, checking if you’re still too far from your destination.

“I don’t know. It just came to me for some reason.”

He nods and you steal a glance at his smiling self.

“Was it the amazing food that we loved so much that we had to run off?” He starts, “Or was it the amazing entertainment it was given to us throughout the evening?”

A laugh escapes your lips, and a weight lifts off Michael’s shoulders. How relaxing it feels.

“God, don’t remind me of that.” You say to him.

“Why? Is the awfully well decorated cake hunting your mind?”

Another chuckle leaves you and you roll your eyes.

“I see that you’re just as mean as before when it comes to analyzing other people’s hard work.” You joke with him and he smiles down at you.

“Guess so.”

Silence falls back in between you and you two walk calmly again, nothing rushing you to leave and get to the usual spot any quicker.

“What about you? What memories of the old times have been hunting you?” You jokingly ask.

“There have been a lot of them.”

“What was the last one you thought off?” You ask, trying to ease the question for him.

“Our first date.”

You snap your head at him, not expecting him to also confess that he was thinking of two of you, and he smiles at your reaction.

“Why?”

“I was shitting my pants before coming in here. Was scared you would bail on me. Just like I felt in our first date.” He confesses and you scowl.

There’s a silence of a few seconds before you decide to break it with your curiosity.

“Why would I bail on you?”

He scoffs.

“We both know the answer to that question.”

Silence.

Back to complete and utter silence, yet this time. It’s not as comfortable.

The sweet and loving conversation has died down with the slight indirect mention of how your relationship came to an end.

The patter of your feet is all you hear but also all you prefer to look at in this moment.

Michael steals a glance at you and notices the way you hesitate to look up.

He curses himself in his head and his smile is back down, dead, with no reason to come back so soon.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No.” You cut him off, “Don’t worry about that.” You stuff your hands back in the pockets of your jacket. “We had to talk about that sooner or later.”

He nods and you look up, seeing him do it.

“We’re getting close.” He announces, making you look up.

Oh God, you missed this.

The fields look the same, just as green and still with small specks of color from the wildflowers. The trees seem to have gotten bigger and fluffier in a way, but they’re still standing tall and creating the perfect little hidden spot between them.

Exactly where you and Michael used always sit.

Michael notices that you had stopped walking after taking a few steps alone, and when he looks back over his shoulder at you.

Memories and all types of emotions erupt through your body harshly. You breathe in deeply, eyes showing the slightest bit of tears of which you can not tell if it’s either sadness or happiness to be back after so long.

Michael notices your different mood, yet he doesn’t understand what is going on. He turns to you completely, having his back to the familiar fields to check on you and his eyes are stuck.

Your eyes are filled with emotion, a soft scowl is written over your face, decorating it. Your body seems to shake slightly at the wind that seems to love to come back at unfortunate moments, and you’re just there. Standing and staring.

You break from your trance as something in front of you appears. You look down to see Michael extending his hand to you, face soft with a comforting expression.

You lay your hand over his, taking it out of your warm pocket and Michael pulls you in further to take steps closer to your destination.

You do as he does while your hands fall connected by your sides. Your eyes are focused on them, staring down as if to check if it’s real or just like in your nightmares, realistic, yet so far deep in your mind that it will bring you great terror in a space of seconds.

Slowly, you get closer to the scenery you had just stared in the distance, and you start to notice small details. There are not as many flowers since autumn is still very much present in this day, yet the place is just as warm and welcoming, still shielding you from most of the cold wind.

Your hand stays connected with Michael’s even when you stand between the familiar trees, neither of you feeling capable enough to pull away yet. Your other hand reaches and touches the trunk of the tree you used to always sit next to.

It feels so unreal that you almost have to pinch yourself.

“Feels weird to stand here.” You confess.

Michael steps closer to you and nods.

“It’s been a long time.”

“A bit too long, maybe.” You add and he agrees again with a nod, “We used to almost come here everyday before winter. I missed it.”

You look up to meet Michael’s eyes and their icy blue color meets your gaze right away. They’re soft, familiar, and comforting.

“Want to sit?” He asks you, eyes still connected.

You nod and he lets go of your hand, for your (big) disappointment.

Michael takes a seat next to the tree and lays his back against it, and you’re quick to follow him, sitting by him, legs to your side as you adjust the thin fabric of your dress.

Michael sighs and your eyes find him again, he looks nervous. More than you.

“I should be the one to start talking.” He whispers, making you tilt your head as if to signalize that you’re listening, “I… Uhm… I-I don’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning would be great.” You joke, gaining a playfully annoyed look from him, “Okay… Uhm…”

You think for a second. Would it be too harsh id you just asked it?

“Why did you do it?”

Michael holds in a gasp at your sudden and direct question, and you continue to stare at him. He notices how you’re analyzing his face, from hair to chin, from ear to ear.

You’re studying him intensely, trying to find the answer yourself in his features.

“It’s stupid.” He says to you.

“I don’t care.” You admit, “I just want to know why.”

He has said, weeks prior, that he did not know why he had done it, which did lead you to scream at him and throw a plate at his head.

But you didn’t believe him, not even a bit. And the fact that he is hesitating to say it out loud now, it’s just a clear reason that good things surely aren’t going to come from his mouth.

“I did it be- because… Fuck.” He comments mid-sentence, shaking his head, finding his nerves ridiculous, “I did it because I couldn’t focus at work.” He licks his lips, eyes still focused on you, “Every time you called was awful. I felt helpless when you would tell me that you missed me and that you were worried about me.”

He sighs and you look at him confused.

“I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. I couldn’t hear you tell me to be careful anymore. I knew I was going to get hurt at one point- It’s bad, I know it is, but I- I just couldn’t deal with your calls… They just made me want to come back home every time, and I… I knew couldn’t.” He confesses, stressed with his own words.

What the fuck is he saying?

“I started to worry about myself. I-I would panic because I was scared that I wouldn’t come back at one point… If I got too hurt or- you know.”

You stay silent.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” He tells you.

Silent is set between you two again, and you, honestly, just want to hit him.

“You’re such a fucking idiot.” You curse at him.

He doesn’t say anything back, yet his mind is filled with questions: did I say enough? Did I say too much? Do I look or sound as much of an asshole as I feel like I do?

God, his words sounded so much better in his mind. Now it just all sounds like… He’s stupid, that’s what he sounds like.

You can’t believe him for a few good seconds.

For so long, you made yourself think so many awful things about yourself, and now you know you weren’t even the exact cause of the problem.

He didn’t break up with you because were too clingy or too annoying over the phone, it was because you were making him… be careful?

“What did you want from that one call?” You question, “And be honest.” You sound calm, surprisingly. “Just me to stop calling?”

“No.” He scowls at you, “I expected you to move along with your life. Find someone else.”

Oh, and the urge to punch him intensifies.

“I knew it would take time, but… I wanted you to find someone better, to just live your life.” He says sincerely and you continue to stare at him. “God, this sounds dumb but… It would be better for you to have someone in case I would never come back…” He sighs, “Does that even make sense?”

You don’t answer him, so he continues.

“When you stopped calling. I thought that’s what had happened.”

Calling after his final call, he means.

“God, Michael...” You exhale, looking away from him and shaking your head.

“It’s stupid of me, I know.” He comments to you, “I’m really sorry.”

His voice is small in the middle of your silence. It’s thick with emotion and you just know that he is beating himself for it still. For everything that he has done and stopped doing for the past few months.

His thoughts are degrading in every way possible. Michael can’t see a reason why they shouldn’t be. He knows you went through really rough few months because of him, now. Thoughts like his shouldn’t even be compared to something as small as a pinch.

You look back at him, yet your eyes don’t meet his. His gaze is focused on something in the distance, mind completely filled with thoughts you’re sure that you’re too familiar with.

“I’m going to forgive you. Not now, but I will.” You confess, “It will just take a bit of time on my part.”

Michael clenches his jaw, not really believing you for a second.

Is it bad that he doesn’t feel like he deserves it? He just gave you the most half assed justification and apology, yet you are still thinking about forgiving him?

Like, what the fuck?

“My ego is just too big for me to forgive you so soon.” You crack up a joke.

The slightest of curve appears over Michael’s lips, but his eyes still don’t go to you. You scratch the side of your neck and without him noticing, you shift to sit closer to him.

You look back at him before starting to talk again.

“Just so you know.” You start, “Your plan didn’t really work… I didn’t move on after… After you ended things.” You whisper.

His head snaps back at you and you hold a comforting look to welcome his eyes back to your own.

You don’t want him to feel worse, you really don’t want to. What’s done is done. Both of you can’t go back in time to change anything.

“You didn’t?”

“No.” You chuckle.

“Why not?”

“Fucking Birmingham men are disgusting.” You justify with a disgusted look on your face. “And I was already working for your family when I was feeling more… okay, so, I had to stay here, stuck with the sight of either saggy old men or just way too cocky younger men.”

He grins slightly at your distaste for the locals, and you offer him a smile.

“I am, supposedly, from Birmingham” He says, trying to sound offended, “And you dated me just fine.”

“Yeah, well…” You comment with a cringe and his grin grows, “You’re still three quarters a country boy, so you don’t really count.”

He rolls your eyes at you and you hit your shoulder with his playfully, swaying to force his stiff body to move a bit.

But, even with the playful mood and slight grin, he still looks hesitant.

“What’s done is done, Michael. The best thing we can do now is learn from it.” You tell him with a soft voice.

He just stares down at you.

“And just so you know, I should be upset at you. I feel like I should. And don’t get me wrong, I want to beat you up for being this stupid.” You confess, “God, you were supposed to be the smart one in all of this.” You add, exhaling your words.

He doesn’t say anything.

“And the reason why I’m not mad is that it has been a long time. I took a long time to heal and grow as a person.” You continue, “I just feel like all of that would’ve gone to waste if I became upset over the reason why it all happened.”

Still nothing from him.

“Blaming and hating ourselves doesn’t get us nowhere, you know?” You ask, “Especially hating other people. It’s just so stupid. Life is fucking shit. It is, but-” You sigh. “I don’t have to hate you for it, or… blame you for it.”

Where the hell are you going with this? Michael asks himself.

“You moved on, right?” You ask rhetorically, “Maybe it was meant to be.” You shrug, “Sure, it was a little harsh, but you found Gina. If you hadn’t made that last call to end…” You move your finger around to point at the two of you, “this… You would’ve been still dating me and not been able to be with her.”

Your words sort of hurt Michael. It is the truth, everything is true. If it weren’t for that last call, he wouldn’t have looked or thought of any other women but you.

No Gina, no nobody. Just you.

But is that supposed to sound like a bad thing?

His heart still beats for you, he knows he still feels for you. Every day that passes, it gets more and more intense. The same way his love for Gina disappears, yours grow.

It’s like his heart is pushing Gina away and open back the space that you once used to own and rule.

“What?” You question when noticing that Michael has been staring down at you and hasn’t said a thing.

“I still feel like I would’ve taken back what I did.” He confesses.

“And what about Gina?”

He shakes his head dismissively.

“She would’ve been fine without me.”

There’s a silence between you two again, and you’re just registering what has said and trying not to take it in a certain very biased way. All of that while he just stares at nothing.

“Where is she, by the way?” You ask curiously, “You’ve barely spent any time at the hotel lately.”

Michael scowls at thought about the fight they had in Polly’s kitchen.

“Yeah… We’re going through a rough patch, right now.”

“Really?” You ask and he nods, “God, you guys went from happily engaged to this in what…? A month and a half?”

He sends you a slight glare.

“What? It’s true.”

“What happened to not hate others? And that that will get you nowhere?” He comments and a smile grows on your face.

“Yeah, well…” You chuckle, “I don’t hate her. I just… dislike her. She was rude to me.” You smile at him, “But, seriously, I really don’t like her. At all. Like god damnit, Michael, I’m sorry to say, but you sure don’t know how to pick them.”

A big chuckle escapes Michael and you smile at him triumphantly. He shakes his head at you and brings his gaze back to yours.

“I picked you. For years.”

“Yeah, and that’s why that’s obviously the highlight of your life.” You say nodding at him, and his lips finally stretch into a smile.

Who knew insulting him would’ve fixed his sad mood?

You bring your hand up and hesitatingly, you lay it over his, letting your fingers find their way to the space between his thumb and his pointer finger, sliding into his palm and giving it a squeeze.

Michael’s eyes move to your hands and you hold your breath, scared that he will pull away.

His eyes slowly come back up to you and they’re as soft as you’ve ever seen them. He holds your fingers and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of your hand softly.

You give him a small smile and he exchanges hands, connecting your left hand with his right so it’s more comfortable to him.

He intertwines your fingers, slowly, and his movements are the slowest you’ve ever seen them, yet they’re sweet. Letting your fingers slide and fall themselves in between his or yours.

“I missed you.” He whispers under his breath, making you look up at him again. “A lot.”

You grin at him and give his hand a squeeze as your answer.

You don’t know it, but Michael is biting his tongue to not apologize to you again. The urge to do it is stronger than him.

It’s like if he repeats it for as many times possible, you will eventually forget what he did.

He doesn’t want you do forgive him. He wants you to just forget it. Act as if everything as always been perfect.

“I substituted you with Finn, so I can’t say the same.” You say playfully, making his lips pull up again.

“I noticed. Weirdest fucking pair, I swear.” He scoffs.

“Jealousy is a serious disease, Michael.” You comment back, nodding.

“Could say the same thing about you.”

“Excuse me?” You ask confused, yet still smiling.

“You’ve barely had a full conversation with Gina, but you just told me you ‘dislike’ her.” He says, amused tone, “Sounds like jealousy to me.”

You laugh at him and shake your head.

“Wow! You really are crazy.” You say, making him smile, “Must have been the air in New York. Probably messed your brain up.”

“Stop” He pokes your leg with his other hand, “Insulting.” Another poke, “Me.” Another poke. “It’s not funny.”

“Then why are you smiling so brightly at me, hey?” You ask with as just as big of a smile.

You two stare at each other with the smiles on your faces and your heart quickens at the sudden change of atmosphere. Everything seems so perfect between you two. Gina doesn’t seem like a barrier between you two anymore.

It’s like old times.

“Are you still marrying Gina?” You catch yourself asking.

His eyes widen slightly at your sudden question and your smile falls slightly. You’re embarrassed at the sudden slip of words but it’s already too late.

“I’m not sure.” He answers.

You react shocked at his answer. What is happening?

Both of your hearts are almost coming out of your chests, it’s like they’re going to explode if a specific confession escapes both your lips.

“Why?” You whisper, your voice failing you.

“I don’t-” He thinks for a second, “I don’t think I love her anymore.”

You hold in a sigh and continue to listen to him.

“I’ve been telling myself that she has changed ever since we got here, but…” He pauses, searching your face for any hesitation, “I think she has been like this all along. And all that has changed as been that-” He suddenly stops.

“That what?” You whisper, almost feeling out of breath.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He confesses, “I can’t stop comparing her to you. Or look at her and just… wish that she’s you.”

Your breathing is heavy, almost like you’re fighting the weight of a thousand stones on your chest. Everything is going on too quickly, but all you feel is relief.

“What are you saying, Michael?” You ask, voice falling into a whisper again.

He stays silent, almost as if rethinking about what he’s about to say.

Your eyes unconsciously lower to Michael’s lips and his smile as fallen as well. He’s serious. Your breathing has gotten quicker without you even realizing, and when your eyes go back to Michael’s, you find him doing the same thing.

“I love you.”

You stop breathing, shock erupting through your system.

“I never stopped loving you. Never. I’ve been lying to myself for all this time, trying to make myself believe that I was happy with Gina but I’m not.” He says, “I’m not happy with anyone else but you. Because I can only love you. Only you. Nobody else.”

He said it.

He said everything that has been troubling his mind for so long. He finally said it.

He said what you have been dreaming that he would say for the longest time. You almost can’t believe this is reality. Your body has gone numb, your heart is beating at an insane speed.

It all just feels so unreal.

Michael’s mind is going at miles a second, overthinking ever curve of emotion in your face. Every twitch, every slight movement in your hand still holding his, now more loosely than before.

What if he spoke too soon? What if he just… destroyed everything you two could’ve still shared. You probably don’t even think about him in that way anymore. All that could’ve been shared as just friends was all destroyed now with his confession.

The confession you have waited for so long and expected it to never be real. The confession of his love for you.

You take a deep breath, feeling Michael tense up next to you at what seems like a way to compose yourself into talking again, and suddenly you let go of his hand.

Michael almost gasps at the lack of your natural warmth against his palm and his heart begins to break, threatening to shatter with just a simple movement.

And then, you just bring your hand behind his neck and pull him towards you, letting your lips connect like the old times. Like the old times you have been visiting lately in your mind for this long and painful time.

It all feels like fireworks are erupting through your body, pinching your muscles and making them rise awake to reality.

You and Michael don’t move for a few quick seconds, but as soon as his lips move and his head tilted slightly to the side, you felt like you could cry.

His nose scrapes your cheek as you kiss sweetly and slowly, and Michael’s hands find their way to you. You gasp against his lips as his hands touch your waist and the thin, almost see-through, fabric of your dress does you no justice.

You bring both of your hands to his face and cup it close to you as he pulls you in to him with his hands. You sit on your knees, rising and your lips disconnect with the sudden movement.

You meet his eyes before you move any further and you feel like you’ve fallen in love all over again.

Michael pulls you in and you move to straddle his lap, his eyes run through your body, eyeing every bit of skin his eyes can lay on as you move, and your jacket opens naturally. You lean your lips to his again and he is the one to begin the kiss this time. His fingers dig deliciously into the ribs by your waist and your hands go up to his hair.

His hands drag from your waist to your hips and down your legs, rising your dress to finally touch your skin. Its warmth is so familiar and so calming that Michael feels like he could pass out right in that second.

You gasp as his grip on your upper thighs intensifies and you pull away slightly. There is absolutely no regret or shame in both of your stares, absolutely nothing. Michael brings his hands up and slides the jacket off your shoulders.

You let him take it off and he lays it by his side, a hand comes to rest over your back and in the matter of a second, you’re laying on your back on the cold but dry ground while Michael is hovering over you.

Michael connects your lips again and you smile into the kiss. His lips as just as soft as you remember them, and he still kisses in the same way. You feel like you’re in a dream all over again.

He pushes away and before you could even open your eyes, his mouth starts pressing soft and wet kisses all over your neck. Your hand moves back to his hair and he slowly leaves a trail down your jaw and neck down to your exposed chest, savoring absolutely every bit of soft exposed skin.

You pull down the collar of his blazer and he seems to get the hint, because he lifts off you, making your body erupt into shivers from the cold. He takes off his jacket and throws it next to you, and as his hands work down his waistcoat, your lips find their way to him again.

A soft inhale of air escapes Michael’s mouth at the feeling of your lips and he’s quick to take off another layer of his suit, not caring if he rips a button or not. He lays you back down and follows you to the ground, holding himself up by his arms and laying right in the middle of your legs.

You two smile at each other as soon as your noses touch and the sound of a soft peck interrupts the silence.

Michael is completely lost in the bliss of the moment, just savoring every single second of it. While you still believe you’re in shock with whatever is going on.

Months prior to this you would’ve passed out with just the idea of seeing Michael again, and probably even punch yourself if you knew what would happen later on, or now. But, god, you couldn’t care less, now.

With only an arm holding him up, Michael squeezes the soft skin of your thigh and starts layering the skin close to your neck with kisses all over again. You, impatient as one can be, lay your hand over his and pull it further towards you.

The dress falls to your hips and exposes your skin to the cold evening. Both of your hands play with the buttons on Michael’s shirt before being able to pull it off him and expose his chest to you.

He presses a kiss onto your lips again and sits up on his knees, pulling away from the kiss and staring as if to make sure this isn’t his mind playing tricks on him and it’s really you.

He discards his shirt to one of his sides, not really caring if it will fly with the wind and it will lose it forever.

“What do you mean ‘okay’, Michael?” You ask, confused, staring at the plain wall in front of you.

“I’m agreeing with what you said. Maybe it is true.” He says through the phone, “You keep on calling me every day-”

“What?” You ask, scowling, “I haven’t called in so long… You-you haven’t picked up any of my calls… Michael, I just want to check on you.”

“I am fucking working, Y/N- God. It’s always the same thing. You’re always fucking checking on me. I. Am. Fine.” He says with the most arrogant and angry tone you’ve ever heard him with.

“How am I supposed to know that? You’re almost across the world, Michael, the only thing I can do is call you.” You defend yourself, shaking your head in confusion, “We haven’t talked in months.”

“I just. I just want you to stop it, okay?” He questions. “I am so done with this. With you making everything seem like such a big and dangerous thing when it never is. You just keep on distracting me all the time. I need to work.”

“What?”

“You did it just now. I went to work today, like any other day. Stayed on my office, did what I was supposed to do. What Tommy ordered me to do. I just told you that I had someone on my office, and you got all fucking worried- like Jesus, Y/N.” He takes a deep breath, “This is my job. I need to do this-”

“I know.”

“You don’t seem like you do.” He continues, “You’re constantly asking and-”

“That’s not true-”

“But it is. Every time you call, it’s always this same thing… I’m tired.” He sighs his words at the end.

You stay silent for a few seconds, letting his words sink in.

“I’m… just worried about you.” You whisper and he sighs, “I- I didn’t mean to-to interrupt you or to make you mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

Tears well up at your eyes and a small shaky breath escapes your mouth, yet it isn’t picked up by the phone.

Michael stays silent as well, making your heart ache more by each second.

You blink your tears away and look up at the window beside you, letting the streetlights shine into your cold and lonely room.

Your bed is still made. The wind of the winter is still hitting the old windows harshly, making them whistle as they hold themselves together. But that is all you have, their whistle and the soft lighting.

Other than that, is you and your silence.

“Well, if I’m such a burden to you then maybe it’s better if we stop talking to each other.” You let the hurtful words escape your mouth before you could even catch them. Too late to take them back.

You don’t hear anything from the other side of the call. For a few seconds you believe that Michael had ended the call before you even said anything else, but his voice comes back.

His voice comes back and shatters the silence with the bitter truth.

“Okay.”

And after that, all Michael heard was the small and weak beeps signalizing the end of the call. Signalizing the end of you and him ever being together. Signalizing the end of your long relationship.

And the supposed end of your love for him and his love for you. Just… the end.

You tilt your head to the side as Michael continues to kiss down your neck and you close your eyes. Your hand is lost on his hair as you get lost in thought. Why does the memory need to come back now?

Michael lifts his head and looks down at you. The look on your eyes confused him and he pulls back to look at you.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, fearing the worst.

You don’t answer, yet your hand moves to cup the side of his face. He leans closer to your palm and your heart tightens.

He’s sorry. He apologized. He regrets it. He wants to take it back. Michael. Your Michael wants to take it back.

You pull him closer to you and you reconnect your lips with his. The kiss is soft all over again and the feeling is enough to push all those awful memories and thoughts away.

Your hands travel down his cheeks to his neck and lightly travel down to his chest and his stomach. Your feather like touch makes Michael’s skin erupt into chills from how soft and light it is.

“I love you.” You whisper into his lips.

He looks at you in the eyes and whispers his answer back.

“And I love you.”

Your fingers fidget with the button of his pants and soon unbutton it with a quick movement. Michael looks down at your hands and smiles, looking back up and presses a kiss onto your jaw.

He pulls away, and without wasting any more time or feeding more into your impatience, he takes a hold of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your underwear and your stomach. Michael takes a hold of the sides of your undergarments and pulls them down your smooth legs.

The cold air and the sight steal small, almost inaudible, gasps from the two of you. Another piece of clothing flies off to the side, which makes you chuckle slightly, and Michael smiles at the sound of your laughter.

You stare up at the tree above you for a second and you soon feel soft kisses being pressed at the bottom of your stomach. It has been long enough since you’ve felt something like this, yet it feels familiar, which makes sense.

It is still Michael. It has just been a long time.

“Michael,” You call out of him, holding yourself up by your elbows, “There’s no time for this, please.”

You didn’t have to say twice, because Michael quickly rose his body back up and pressed a kiss into your lips again.

There’s the sound of his zipper and soon the shifting of fabric and while lost in the kiss, Michael lays you back on the ground comfortably. His hand grabs into your leg and squeezes it softly, feeling himself lost for a second as your soft hands travel through his skin.

You gasp into the kiss as you feel him press into your entrance and Michael clenches his jaw at the sudden warmth touching him. You pull him close to you and Michael’s spear hand almost digs into the ground as he hides his head on your neck.

His other hand aligns him and slowly, he moves his hips towards yours. You groan lowly at the intrusion and he stops, giving you time as he doesn’t you to feel any kind of discomfort.

Your hand, that holds the back of Michael’s head, closes and he moves slightly again, moving in closer and closer to you, taking your movements as a hint for him to keep going. His cock slowly sliding into you, inch by inch, letting your warmth and wetness envelop him into its familiar hold that he so missed.

You gasp and he holds himself steady right as your take him all in. He lifts his head to check on you and his lips pepper your skin with soft kisses, some lost in his uneven breathing as he does so.

“You can move.” You whisper at him.

He doesn’t say anything, he lifts a few inches away from you and his hand comes back to your thigh. His movements start and they soon become thrusts.

Your soft gasps evolve into moans and Michael swears he’s dreaming. Your sounds are complete music to his ears, making them vibrate at the sweetness they carry, and, god, he had missed this.

Slowly, his thrusts start to accelerate, and your eyes force themselves closed. The way Michael’s hips hit yours and the way you squeeze him is driving the both of you insane. Your nails are digging into his arm as a small ball of pleasure starts to build up at the end of your stomach.

Michael lifts his arm and lays his hand beside your head. He eyes your body, still covered by the almost see-through fabric.

His breathing his loud and the sound of your bodies colliding with each other is all that fills your ears. His hand lets go of your leg and goes to your waist, his eyes analyzing your chest.

Michael presses a kiss on your sternum, over your dress and you arch your back at the feeling of his soft and warm lips. He clenches his jaw as the fabric stretches and exposes your chest to him, braless, nipples peeking through and appearing noticeable.

A shear layer of sweat covers the top of Michael’s forehead as the wind cools the warmth the both of you are creating. He lowers his head again and kisses you over the fabric of your dress that hugs your body so beautifully.

He looks down at where the two of you connect and a groan escapes his lips.

He, without any warning, grabs into your leg again and pulls up to your chest, letting another soft moan escape your mouth.

“Fuck, Michael…” You whisper at him.

He lifts off you and brings his other hand to your other leg. Still thrusting into your pussy, the sight as just improved to Michael, while you are lost at the difference it made to just rise your legs.

“God, you’re so perfect.” He mumbles at you, voice almost breaking into a whisper from his heavy breathing.

You throw your head back as his movements speed up and the pleasure in you intensifies.

After so long, it almost feels unreal to feel such emotion. It is more than pleasure, it’s an explosion of emotions.

All of those same emotions have been bottled up at the back of your mind and long forgotten, almost as if you had dismissed them because you didn’t believe you would ever feel them ever again.

But they are back and you’re feeling them at such a rate that you feel like tears are starting to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision.

You’ve probably thought this a thousand times, but, god, it feels like you’re dreaming. You pray that this won’t end in any way close to how your dreams usually do, but in a way, you’re not worried.

You don’t fear a bad ending in this, you don’t feel scared or anxious. You feel good. You feel happy and loved. Loved by someone who has shown way more love to you than any other person.

Someone you would vow to never stop loving if it meant that he will never leave your side. Someone that has never belonged to someone the same way he has belonged to you. No matter who has or will come in between you, you know the truth and you believe that it is the truth.

He loves you. He hurt you, but he loves you. He showed he was sorry, he apologized- Jesus, he saved your life. He didn’t let you die in his arms. He cried and feared your death right when you were bleeding a puddle into the ground.

Michael belongs to you and nobody else. He knows it, and he has told that himself that many times before. Now more than ever.

He belongs to you and you belong to him. And that is just how it is, and how it always will be.

A/N.: I am not going to lie... I cried when proofreading Michael’s confession about his feelings. I’m such a cry baby, god.

[Sorry that the apology part was so shit. I, myself, struggled with justify that shit and got myself annoyed with it.]

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Hope you enjoyed this! If would like to make any questions about the characters or when the next part will be available. My ask box is always open.

[qqueenofhades]

did you watch lucifer season six and what are your thoughts pls and ty

Ahaha. Yes. Yes I did watch it. Then I cried for a literal hour and attempted to compose myself, only to start crying again when I lay down and kept on thinking about it. Then I had more feelings. Then I slept like the dead due to emotional trauma. Then I reblogged gifsets and had More feelings. Then @buffaluff and @flynnanimal watched it and also required emotional support due to drowning in their own tears. So, uh... we're all fine here now. How are you?

My main takeaway from the final season was the sheer amount of love for the characters, story, and fans that you could feel shining through all the episodes, and which made SUCH a refreshing change. I had feelings in my tags the other day about how a show about the devil was constantly goofy, hopeful, loving, and uplifting, rather than all the grimdark nonsense they could have easily done with it. (As I said, just imagine it as written by the GOT idiots?? NO THANK YOU.) The writing really loved everyone and wanted to give them a proper ending and emotional journey, and it wanted to show the fans that they weren't stupid for having invested six seasons of effort and emotion into this, and just... that is so much rarer than it should be? Compare all the movies and TV shows that treat their fans like the enemy, that want to outsmart them at all costs even if it means changing major plot elements, that ferociously guard spoilers and think that "shock value" means good writing, by throwing hackneyed cliche upon cliche and making everything Depressing, and just... Lucifer had its hiccups and slow points and missteps, of course, but I am SO glad they didn't do that. The entire show consisted of Lucifer slowly but steadily progressing toward being a better man, despite mistakes and setbacks and sometimes a little too much will-they-won't-they. (Season 3 was the only one where I got bored and skipped over the filler episodes with Pierce/Lucifer/Chloe in order to get to the end).

That is an essentially simple premise, but they stuck to it, and they didn't try to create more drama by randomly wrecking what they had already established. I wrote a fic all the way back in mid-season 2 (In Nomine Patris) that ended up predicting quite a few of the future characters who had not yet appeared on the show at that time, including Eve, Michael, and Azrael, and several plot points, including the very major one of Lucifer returning to hell for the sake of his daughter with Chloe. And while this might mean that I am just that good at guessing TV shows (I would like to think this....) it also means that the writers set expectations, followed through on those expectations, and didn't suddenly derail everything or turn it totally on its head just for the sake of cheap shocks. As we can all attest, they certainly caused PLENTY of drama, anguish, pain, and suffering, but they did it in a way that remained faithful to the overall premises of the story and the characters, and wanted to see them become the best versions of themselves. I cried my eyes out at the end and then thought, "hey, I might want to watch the whole series again," which, if you ask me, is the mark of doing your job right. There have been so few TV endings recently where I didn't immediately swear off the whole thing or have to pretend that canon didn't exist, so yeah.

As I said, it was just refreshing to watch something that had that essential deep generosity at its core, where the message is that everyone is worthy of love if they make the hard and painful effort to change and become better, and that even if earthly things feel small next to all this messy celestial drama, they still matter, and that you are loved no matter what. I loved that Amenadiel became God and Lucifer returned to hell as a choice in order to help all the trapped souls be able to work through their guilt and go to heaven. There were obviously certain echoes of The Good Place in that ending; I don't know if it was something they had planned all along or if the success of TGP, another series asking deep questions about life, death, morality, and human nature within the framework of a goofy heaven-and-hell sitcom, influenced it, but either way, it worked so well. Even if it tore my heart out and stomped on it on the ground, it was fitting and oh so lovely to see Lucifer, once the most selfish being in the entire universe, following in Linda's footsteps and becoming selflessly dedicated to helping other people. Just. Chef's kiss.

And of course, Deckerstar. The Hades and Persephone vibes were IMMACULATE this season, and while it did take Lucifer and Chloe the best part of four seasons to get together, they never significantly backslid, never had third-party issues or cheap cheating storylines once they were officially a couple, and Tom Ellis and Lauren German REALLY killed it this season in particular. It was never easy for them and sometimes the drama went on a little too long over the course of said six seasons, but the love story was beautiful and incredibly meaningful and always true to the fact that the actors and characters and writers (not to mention the fans) all loved it so much. They were so much the emotional heart of this, and when they went to hell together in episode 6x03 (where they turned into cartoons because wHAT even IS this show), Joe Henderson said in an interview that this was to give the fans a view into Lucifer and Chloe's future (after) lives post-6x10, and to offer them a basis to write fanfiction. I mean... the showrunner saying to the fans "here, we love you, have something to write fic about!" is likewise pretty shockingly rare. It's again an example of how this show always audaciously poked fun at itself, never took itself TOO seriously, and was always welcoming its fans and the people who loved it to do so, rather than making them feel stupid or taking joy in wrecking beloved characters or plots.

Obviously, I loved Rory, the badass lesbian half-angel goth Deckerstar child straight out of My Immortal (seriously, she was SO edgy, it was amazing), because of the fact that Lucifer's entire arc was always about feeling abandoned by his father and that he was going to have to face it for himself. Dorky Devil Dad Lucifer trying his absolute HARDEST to bond with his daughter was simultaneously hilarious, adorable, and heart-wrenching, and yet again, the Growth. We all remember when he could barely tolerate Trixie touching him, and now we're here. Also, any variation whatsoever of "this is just a brief moment of time that we must be apart, love is eternal and stronger than death and we will never really leave each other" as a line is guaranteed to make me bawl my eyes out. So that was fun.

I got a big kick out of Ghost Dan running around and trying to get everyone to see him, and had feelings about seeing him in heaven with Charlotte and his beloved Pudding Pops at the end. I had feelings about how they handled Ella finding out the truth (or rather demanding to know why nobody had told her) and of course, I obviously loved Maze and Eve and their goth/femme wedding and the fact that they got a good three-season romantic arc (indeed, I wanted more of them). My god, Trixie is SO BIG, she used to be a tiny little nugget. I love that Linda was the moral and emotional rock all along, from the first episode to the very last, and that Amenadiel was Deeply Vindicated when Charlie's wings appeared at his first birthday party. I love how Lucifer in s6 is absolute thousands of light years from Lucifer in s1. And as ever, Chloe was Perfect. I am happy that I spent six seasons with these characters and saw them become better, and that I was never made to feel like an idiot for trusting the writers to end everything in a beautiful and emotional way. Because, well. They did. Sure, maybe I could go back and pick at a plotline here or a detail there, but I don't terribly feel the need to do so? It might not have been perfect, but it was perfect, and I am so grateful that it existed.

[stellocchia]

I have returned once again to beg for fanfics like a homeless fool starved. Doth thou hath any spare Michael + Tommy fluffy fanfiction? Tommy as Michael's uncle, his babysitter, his 3rd dad, whatever! This one just needs more Tommy and Michael fluff 🤲 Of Course, this greatly implies the involvement of one arachnid named Shroud, though not necessarily needed. What im basically asking is Tommy with kids pls and thank you for your timee

Well, I simply cannot let you starve! Come here my child.

So, first of all, I'm gonna suggest Little Tailors because I'm pretty proud of how this one came out. There's no Shroud content, but I did put some flashbacks to Tommy babysitting little Fundy to compensate!

My name is Tommy (Not Mommy) as you may imagine from the title, it's a very silly, very sweet fic

i’ll give him shelter some ghostly babysitting for variety

Growls and Grunts all of Bench Trio get their fluffy bonding time

Moving Into the Sun some godly babysitting this time! Always for variety

Babysitting this one, if I remember correctly, it's another babysitting fic but with a bit more angst to it?

They stare at me while I crave you (platonically) love languages with Michael + Bench Trio

And that's it!

I just realized recommending these that I actually don't know any fics with Tommy and Shroud? Which is kinda sad honestly, We need more of those in this fandom!

[sophsun1]

Hey Soph! I really enjoy reading your QAF opinions so here's my question (sorry if you've been asked this before) - how would you have changed season 5? I enjoyed the finale and Brian's "it's only time" speech, but I mostly enjoy it because I feel like it was the most logical conclusion after how season 5 played out. However, if season 5 had been written differently (better), I feel like the wedding could still have happened +

without it seeming too rushed or OOC. What do you think? And I love your gifs, thanks for helping this fandom stay alive :'')

Hey!

Aww that's sweet of you I mean I try, they are my favourite pairing 😊

I'm hoping to get back to a regular giffing schedule once I get my new laptop and get back in a better frame of mind (anxiety sucks, boo) But for the 3 of us out there I'm glad to help :))

I've probably answered a variation of this before but I'm gonna try and keep from writing an essay and stick to some key points. I agree the ending we got with the path the writers chose was the most logical conclusion for that. But the gripes I have with it are Justin/Randy deserved more than a fade out for their final appearance and Britin a proper goodbye at the airport with a more definitive promise they were still together and would visit each other long distance. Instead of the open ended imagine it for yourself scenario we got. LIKE NO SIRS, I WAITED FIVE YEARS FOR THEIR AND MY HAPPY EVER AFTER. FILM IT, HAVE THEM EXPLICITLY SAY IT, ALL THE ROMANCE, ALL THE FEELS PLS AND TY.

I know a lot of people were upset they didn't get married but honestly for me I wasn't, for that moment in time for their relationship. Even if it was paced better and we didn't go at the breakneck speed of the ily/engagement/Justin's new art career I still feel it would've been too soon for BOTH of them. I always viewed them as having a love that already fulfilled wedding vows (I made a gifset of this) so the"We don't need rings or vows to prove that we love each other we already know that" part rang very true to me. Maybe that's because it's how I myself view love/relationships in real life. That doesn't mean I don't think they wouldn't have got married later on, I absolutely do.

But they had already split so many times, I feel they needed to just be them. Adjust to being in a working couple, learning to communicate, going through the ups and downs and not having it end in a breakup before going into this huge commitment. Justin needed to grow into himself in his new art career and live life outside of Brian. Those 5 years revolved around getting that final stamp of approval from Brian that he was longing for and he got it. Brian learning that love doesn't have to be this horrible, conformative, suffocating thing it's your own interpretation of it and he could still be himself but also love and be loved in return.

My ideal ending would've been both of them moving to New York, Justin to pursue his art and Brian to open Kinnetic and thrive as he had always hoped to. It would've been such a satisfying and full circle end to his story. Remember Brian had always dreamed of going there, we saw him fail in S1 but what better timing for him to finally get there with the love of his life. Neither of them would be sacrificing their dreams to go there it would be beneficial to both. Honestly there was nothing left for Brian in Pittsburgh, Gus had gone, Michael had his own family and everyone had transitioned into the new phases of their lives. Brian and Justin had outgrown Pittsburgh they were made for the bold, bright, colourful lights of New York City.

It seems you would've wanted a wedding for them, I'd love to hear your thoughts if you want to share!

[leonardhoee]

I’m so excited that you’re taking requests! May I ask for some Mitsuhide headcanons? Any are fine (although I do love an in-love!Mitsu 👀)! Thank you so much dear!! 💘💞

Omg I was so happy when I got this request cuz Mitsuhide is the LOML. (Also perfect timing cuz I just finished re-reading his route). I’m not sure what kind of headcannons you wanted but I’m just kind of rambling based on the reasons I love him.😂 (+ NSFW)

(Also I wrote these at 3am if there’s any spelling errors pls don’t kill me😭)

Hope you like it!❤️❤️

Tagging: @aurora-morning @writer-akihiko @ikemenvmpire @judgemental-seal @delicateikemenmemes

Mitsuhide is...so incredibly soft. Sometimes when you’re sleeping next to him, he just takes in your beauty and listens to your heartbeat. Knowing you are alive and in his arms, warms his heart more than you could ever know.

He cannot believe that someone who radiates so much love and light would fall for someone like him, but he is eternally grateful that he is blessed enough to have the chance to love you with his entire being.

As much as he teases you, this man LIVES to pamper and please you. Muscle pain after sparring with Kyubei? (Or other activities with Mitsu). Mitsuhide will use his extensive knowledge of the human body to give you the most mindblowing massage you’ve ever had. (And he will equally enjoy hearing your satisfied noises at his touches.)

He is extremely perceptive, especially when it comes to you. If you are upset, or anxious, or in pain, he will know right away without needing to be told and will act accordingly. He will insist on going back to your home and giving you some time away from work so you have a chance to relax with him.

He may be a secretive person but everyone on the Oda Forces knows just how much “Mitsuhide Akechi adores his wife”. He can’t help it, it just slips out. Whether it’s through his words or his actions, everyone in Azuchi knows he only has eyes for you.

Mitsuhide has the utmost respect for you (he chugs his respect women juice daily) and will consider your opinions on his work a great help. There may be some parts of his job that he isn’t allowed to with you. However, 90% of the time he will tell you everything he’s been doing and will ask for your advice.

Sometimes he feels like you know him even better than he knows himself. And he knows that even if the whole world considers him a murderer and amonster, you will always be there to hold him and remind him that you love him and that he is a hero in your eyes.

Even for him, it’s sometimes too much to handle, and on those days he will come and lay down with you, resting his head on your chest as you stroke his hair and allow him to finally rest. He won’t admit it publicly but, being in your arms feels like the safest place in the world for him. He never thought that he would experience the luxury of having such a place to return to after his battles. A true home.

If you like to cook, you better believe Mitsuhide will eat everything you make, regardless of whether he can taste it or not. (He says he doesn’t need to taste the flavor because he can taste the love you put into it.)

He is known for neglecting his basic needs, and while he has gotten better at it ever since you came into his life, his level of self care is still unacceptable.

However, if you come in and insist he take a break because he’s overworking himself, his heart will absolutely just melt at seeing how much you care about him. (Is it the bare minimum? Yes. Has anyone ever taken care of him like that? No.) He is so starved of love and affection that even the most minor things will melt his heart.

Mitsuhide also loves to tease you, just to see your reactions. It’s incredibly entertaining when he whispers a dirty joke to you and smack his arm because “We are in public Mitsuhide.” It amuses him to no end.

He also loves teasing the others with you, and you two make the best pranking team in Azuchi.

You two have increased Hideyoshi’s migraine levels, but he lets it slide after seeing Mitsuhide look so happy for the first time in his life.

Hideyoshi has never seen Mitsuhide smile like that at anyone before, and he’s just glad Mitsu finally has someone to love and depend on. (Though sometimes he wishes that person was him. We’re not gonna unpack all that right now)

Random Headcannon: Modern AU Mitsuhide would be an amazing dancer. Like Michael Jackson type shit.

NSFW Below the Cut

Mitsuhide lives to please you and that translates to the bedroom as well. He is a switch through and through, but he could eat you out for hours. (Lying isn’t the only thing he’s good at using his tongue for).

His favorite place to be is between your thighs with your hand tugging at his hair, bringing his face even closer to your dripping core. You are his priority and he will not partake in his own pleasure until he has seen you come twice at least.

He loves to hear you beg, and will torture you for hours with phantom touches that allow you a small taste of the pleasure he can give. He will leave you desperately wanting more until you are crying his name and begging him to finally take you because you can’t handle any more of his teasing.

It’s truly a game to see how long he can keep his own composure before letting go and loosing himself in mindblowing pleasure. Oh and when he does...when he finally lets himself take you the way he’s been wanting to...you won’t be walking straight the next day.

The expression on your face, and the way you cry out his name with tears of pleasure running down your cheeks when he finally pounds you into the futon send him into ecstasy like he had never known before. He will keep going until your legs are shaking and your voice is hoarse from screaming his name so many times throughout the night.

He has a hidden chest of various toys and ropes, and secretly one of his greatest fantasies is to be tied up, completely at your mercy as you “punish” him for his teasing behavior. Nothing brings him more pleasure than feeling the rope dig into his skin, being unable to move as you teasingly suck him off, stopping right as he gets to the edge. He also loves seeing you ride him, using him as a device for your own pleasure.

Mitsuhide is normally not very loud, however, if you edge him enough, it will break all self control he has as he desperately moans your name and bucks his hips, just to try and finally feel himself buried deep inside you.

Once you free him of his bonds he will immediately flip you over, licking down your chest and throwing your legs over his shoulders as he drills you into whatever surface he decided to rail you on that day.

If you’re not too tired, he will even bathe you himself as he kisses every part of your body telling you how amazingly beautiful you are in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

Afterwards, he pulls you close to his chest and kisses your forehead, as he tells you how much he loves you and how euphoric you make him feel. Nights like these are one of the few times Mitsuhide will fall asleep right away as the languid exhaustion overtakes him.

[pregnant-piggy]

I don’t wanna be your ex

James Potter x slytherin!reader

words: 6.5k

A/N: it was so weird to write this as i usually write people falling in love, but this was almost the complete opposite. Reader is a Slytherin beater and i’ve kept them gender neurtal. I hope you’ll like it!

Request: can u pls do a blurb for James Potter based on the song EX by Kiana Ledé or if thats kinda too much a headcanon of how him and a slytherin quidditch beater started dating? @artemis1orion​​

based on EX by Kiana Ledé

James drummed his fingers on the wooden table top in a non-existing beat while his eyes scanned the full Great Hall around him. Thoughts were racing through his head, leaving his mind before he had even had a chance to find their meaning. His foot was bouncing uncontrollably under the table; he couldn’t stop it.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Just a week ago everything had been fine. There had been nothing to plague James’ mind, nothing that could distract him from the game today.

As his eyes glanced over the excited students around him, James wondered where it had gone wrong. Had it been off the entire time or had something changed? Was it his fault? In all honesty, he hadn’t seen it coming—to him everything had seemed perfectly fine.

James’ eyes locked on the person he had been trying to avoid and yet find. It had only been a week, but it had felt so strange. All that had grown familiar on him was suddenly ripped from his life.

You were seated at the Slytherin table in your quidditch uniform, the green and silver clashing with James’ red and golden one. In your hand was a cup with steaming hot tea. Probably green tea, James figured, the only one he didn’t like. You laughed and your nose scrunched up a little. Even from so far away James could hear your chortle, or he imagined it.

It had seemed like such an odd couple, the Slytherin and the Gryffindor. The green beater and the red chaser. Silver and gold. Never in his whole life, James had thought that he would fall for a person from the house he had sworn to be his enemy on the moment he stepped foot in Hogwarts.

But nothing had stopped him. He had fallen fast and hard, so afraid that he would hit the ground and shatter. You had brought feelings up in him that he hadn’t felt before, feelings that he was terrified of.

After a month of careful flirting and awkward situations, you kissed him. Without any warning you had pressed your lips on James’, that typical laugh of you still echoing in his ears as he answered your kiss by entangling his fingers in your hair.

Happy and merry had started in that moment and they hadn’t left James for a long time. Wherever he went, you were there supporting him; if not physical then mentally. There was an imprint of you in James’ mind. The sound of your voice was nestled in every corner of his brain and now he tried to fight it.

Because you weren’t his anymore. He wasn’t yours.

You had said that you had seen it coming from afar, like a dark cloud of thunder in the blue sky on a summer’s day. Fog had formed around the two of you, hiding one from the other. So with little words and meaningless promises an end had been put to the ‘us’.

But that end wasn’t as easy as James had thought it to be. For so long you had been there with him, that life without you seemed dull. The sun was never shining and rain always threatened to fall. However, James couldn’t ask you to come back. He didn’t even want that, that he was sure of. Time with you had been great, but you were his ex now and he had no intention to change that.

‘You nervous?’ Sirius asked as he slumped down on the wooden bench next to him, ripping James’ attention away from you.

‘Nah,’ James lied while his stomach made a turn as he tried to take a bite from his breakfast. His gaze wandered off to the Slytherin table again and he left his fork untouched on the side of his plate. Sirius seemed to notice who his friend was looking at and he sighed as he moved a little closer to James, so no one would hear them.

‘Just talk to them, if you want so bad. You don’t have to get back together or anything, but just talk,’ Sirius said, receiving a huff from James.

‘Why would I talk to them? They broke up with me,’ James said as he ripped his gaze from you and turned to Sirius.

‘Yeah, but didn’t you promise you’d still be friends?’ Sirius pointed out, as he nonchalantly played with his pumpkin juice while eyeing James.

James barked a short humourless laugh and shook his head. ‘Of course I said that—that’s what everyone says when they’re breaking up!’

‘So you’re just never gonna…?’

‘No, I really don’t see the point,’ James shrugged and he returned to his breakfast.

‘That’s too bad,’ Sirius muttered, while he waved at Remus and Peter, who just entered the Great Hall to wish James luck before the game. ‘They were neat.’

James grumbled something and his eyes found your figure back. His conversation with Sirius had made him think. He had indeed promised you to stay friends, but you sure knew that that was just something he had said to make the situation a little less uncomfortable. Surely, you didn’t actually expect him to be friends after you had broken up?

Tearing his stare from you, James focused on his friends instead. Peter was rummaging through his bag to find something and Remus was calmly trying to eat his breakfast while Sirius kept tormenting him with pleads for help on the History of Magic essay. It took five minutes and the promise that Sirius would leave him be for the rest of the day for Remus to give in and Sirius was smirking as he dramatically threw his arms around Remus’ neck and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

‘Alright, alright,’ Remus mumbled, pushing Sirius away. ‘Now bugger off and let me eat my breakfast.’

Sirius let go of Remus and turned to James, who had till thus far been watching his friends with a faint smile on his lips. Sirius asked something about the strategy James had come up with to win this game from the Slytherins and as James dove with his pre-game nerves into a rant about how his beater had to clear the way for the chasers, Sirius’ eyes shifted to a spot above James’ shoulder. By the time James had realised it was too late for him to get out of the situation and he heard your enthusiastic voice.

‘Hey guys, what’s up?’ you said as you stood behind James, who kept his face at his plate. There was an awkward second as the three others looked from you at James and back, but Remus was quick to dismiss James’ distant behaviour and he smiled at you.

‘Not much here. Nervous for the game?’

James didn’t need to see your face to know exactly how you were feeling. He had been by your side for so many games. He knew that you were in fact nervous but would never admit it to anyone. Instead you would laugh everything away and pretend you were super excited.

‘No, not really. We’ve had a lot of practice this season. And having spent so much time with James I know exactly what his team will do,’ you chuckled.

The boys laughed softly and another silence followed in which you got called by your teammates. James dared to turn his head a little to look at them and felt some sort of anger towards them, even though his logic told him that they had done nothing wrong.

‘Well, I should go,’ you said and it was silent as James felt all eyes on him. But he didn’t react and he heard a little sigh from you. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Remus and Sirius waved after you and Peter wished you good luck, while you ran after the other Slytherins out of the Great Hall. James watched as you disappeared, glancing once over your shoulder back at the boys. When your eyes met his, you raised your eyebrows at him, but he averted his eyes.

‘Well, that was rude,’ Remus said, looking past Sirius to James. ‘Why did you ignore them?’

‘Because we broke up! Do I have to explain it to everyone? They’re my ex, why should I be friends with them?’  

-- - --

The quidditch stadium filled with students, as you waited in the changing room with the rest of your team. For some reason you felt more nervous for this game than you had ever been for any other game. It felt like more was at stake than just the quidditch cup this time.

You were hurt by James’ sudden cold demeanour towards you. Hadn’t you agreed to stay friends?

The time you had been with James had been amazing, but after a while you had realised that it was going nowhere. It felt like the relationship wasn’t moving forward anymore, you were stuck in the same place and that had started to grow uncomfortable on you. If you weren’t dating to go somewhere, you were dating for heartbreak and to spare the both of you pain you had called an end to it.

You had thought that it was a mutual decision, but James had been avoiding you all week and now you were doubting. Maybe he was more hurt than you thought he was or maybe he just didn’t care for you now you weren’t dating anymore.

That last one hurt but you feared that it was the true one. James wasn’t interested in just the platonic side of you. But you wouldn’t give up that easily. You still had Sirius, Remus and Peter as friends and surely James would come around after a while.

As the sounds of the students in the stands got louder, your teammates got a little more restless. Your team captain, Lucinda Talkalot, stood up and she paced up and down in the room, silently repeating her strategy.

‘Just… make sure we win, okay?’ Lucinda said and she stopped walking to look at everyone shortly. ‘We can’t lose from Gryffindor again.’

Next to you, the other Beater of your team, Michael Bennett, hummed in agreement, undoubtedly thinking back of the last time Gryffindor played against Slytherin and your team lost with a pathetic difference of two hundred points, because Michael was just a second too late with his Bludger. No one in the team blamed him for it, but he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

The Slytherin quidditch team existed of two girls and four boys besides you. Captain of your team was Talkalot, a sixth year. She was the team’s Keeper. The three Chasers were Javier Flores, Nerida Cooper and Rohan Alves. Nerida was in your year; Javier and Rohan were both fourth years. You and Michael were the Beaters of the team and Kevin Fox, only a second year, was Seeker.

While other houses laughed at Lucinda’s choice for Fox as the Seeker, she believed he was exactly what the team had needed after the last team captain had graduated and left the team lost. And she had been right, so far Slytherin had won from Hufflepuff after an astonishing short game in which Fox caught the Snitch within fifteen minutes.

The stadium full of students silenced slowly and at the sound of madam Hooch’s whistle, the quidditch team left the changing room. In a line you walked onto the green grass of the quidditch stadium and stood and turned towards the Gryffindor team.

You stood in front of the Gryffindor’s Beater, Cillian Martin, a short seventh year with ash blond hair, but you looked at James who stood opposite of Talkalot. Even from far away where you were standing you could feel the determination radiate from James and you realised that this would be a difficult game.

The Gryffindor team was just as your own team very skilled. You hated to admit it, but James had done a great job putting his team together. Idris Smith, the Keeper, had been in his position since his second year and it was almost impossible to get any balls past him. His sister, Abby Smith, was Chaser along with Crawford and James himself. The two Beaters, Martin and Trevino, were actually quite pleasant guys and always in for a friendly game if you asked them—you and Michael had had some fun times practising with them. Gryffindor’s Seeker was Hana Viotto, a sweet girl who wasn’t afraid to completely demolish you on the quidditch pit.

‘Shake hands,’ Hooch said and Lucinda gave James a short handshake and a nod while he stared coldly at her.

You looked away from the two team captains and nodded politely at Martin before you swung your leg over your broom. The stadium around you was completely silent for a moment and you wiggled your eyebrows at Nerida, who giggled softly. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the game started.

Pushing your broom off the ground you lifted in the air, your bat loosely in your hand as you looked around at the field. Immediately you recognised James’ setup, with two Chasers at the Slytherin side of the field and his Seeker high in the sky, scanning the field from above.

‘And the game is on!’ the commentator screamed through the quidditch pit. ‘The Quaffle is in hands of Slytherin, they’re off to a great start! Cooper has it in hands, throws it at Alves. Alves catches—owh, that must hurt!’

You looked over your shoulder at Alves, who was gasping for air and reaching for his stomach, dropping the Quaffle that got caught by Gryffindor’s Chaser, Smith. Behind you, you heard a snigger from Trevino and when you looked angry at him, he shrugged.

‘Captain’s orders,’ he said as he flew past you.

‘Gryffindor still has the Quaffle, but Smith’s being chased by a Bludger! Dive, girl, dive!’

You quickly flew to the other side of the field, zigzagging through the other players and turned around with your bat ready for action. Just as you had predicted a Bludger was flying your way. Throwing all your weight behind your swing, you hit the Bludger and sent it towards Smith, who still was in the possession of the ball. The Bludger didn’t hit her, but did force her to move away, giving Cooper and Flores a chance to catch up with her.

‘Nice job!’ Lucinda yelled at you from her position at the goal posts. You shot her a thumbs-up and flew to the middle of the field, trying to send as many Bludgers as you could towards your opponents.

‘Gryffindor has lost the ball! Potter makes an attempt to get the Quaffle from Flores and, well surely that must be a foul. We look at the referee and… yes, one penalty for Slytherin!’

Nerida took the ball back from James, who was starting to looked more cross with the minute, and flew to the central circle, waiting for madam Hooch’s whistle. At the high-pitched sound, Nerida stormed forwards and threw the Quaffle in the left goal, unleashing loud cheering from the Slytherins in the stands.

‘And we’re back to the game. It is a constant battle for possession. Bludgers are flying around, knocking people off their brooms. Smith saves! Crawford has the Quaffle, he gets hit by Y/L/N’s Bludger, Flores has the ball, Alves, Cooper, back to Alves, Flores again! That’s some nice team play from the Slytherins! Must be Talkalot’s new strategy. Quaffle is in the Gryffindor scoring area, Flores shoots and… he scores! It’s now twenty to zero for Slytherin, but we’ve only just started…’

The longer the game lasted, the more intense everyone got. Gryffindor made another two fouls, but so did your team. Twenty minutes and three penalties later, the score was 60 to 50 for the Slytherins, but where you were getting more tired, it seemed like the Gryffindors were gaining energy.

After half an hour of violently flying back and forth the quidditch pit, Lucinda called for a time-out. Hooch accepted and her whistle stopped the match for a minute.

‘They’re good,’ Rohan panted as you were huddled together at the goal posts.

‘They are indeed,’ Lucinda said and she shot a suspicious look towards the other team.

‘Potter must have given them a motivational speech or something,’ Nerida mumbled as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. You looked at James and the angry expression on his face. Something told you that he ignoring you this morning had something to do with the way he was scanning the quidditch field right now.

‘Kevin, it is crucial that you find the Snitch,’ Lucinda said. ‘I don’t know how much longer we can hold it.’

‘I’m trying,’ Kevin sighed and his eyes glanced quickly over the pit.

Madam Hooch whistled again and the game started again. The short time-out had given you some time to catch your breath and you were filled with energy and determination as you flew back to your position in the middle of the field, ready to hit whatever was coming your way.

The next fifteen minutes were filled with bat sweeping and Quaffle and Bludgers flying closely past your head. Twice you had to dive away to not get hit and once you were nearly knocked over by Crawford, as they tried to escape the Quaffle coming their way.

‘It’s currently 90 to 80 for Gryffindor and we’re forty-five minutes into the match! Smith has the ball, she’s making her way to Talkalot, throws, but oh! Talkalot blocks it with her foot. Pure luck or good skill? The Quaffle is back in the centre in hands of Alves. Bennett sends a Bludger to keep Potter away but he misses and almost knocks his own teammate off their broom! Alves is getting closer to the goal posts, will this be 90 to 90? He shoots and… Smith can’t hold it! It’s tied again! Surely the Seekers must have caught a glimpse of the Snitch by now.’

Yet it took another ten minutes before one of the Seekers finally made a move and by that time it was 130 to 120 for Slytherin. Viotto suddenly dove to the ground and Kevin quickly went after her. The game stocked for a minute as everyone held their breath. Viotto and Fox were battling for a head position in the race after the Snitch.

You held your broom still in the sky and squeezed your eyes to look at Kevin’s little figure. Whispering encouraging words, you focused on the two Seekers, forgetting that there was another game going on around you. The Quaffle lay in Flores’ hands motionless, but the Bludgers were still flying around.

‘Y/N! Watch out!’ Michael screamed at you.

A Bludger was coming at you with incredible speed and your only chance to escape it was to throw your broom to the side, nearly colliding with James, who happened to be right in that spot. You sighed relieved at escaping the Bludger and possibly a night at the infirmary, but your relieve soon disappeared.

‘Gryffindor catches the Snitch! Gryffindor has won! With 270 points to a mere 130 from the Slytherins, the Gryffindor team has won!’

The Gryffindors on the stands erupted in loud cheering, while the Slytherins groaned collectively. You understood their disappointment; not only had Slytherin lost from Gryffindor again, they had lost with a difference of 140 points and that wouldn’t do well on the leader board.

You turned to James, who now had a big smile on his face, and wanted to congratulate him, but when he looked at you, he quickly flew away. With an open mouth you watched after him and felt the pain combined with the sadness of losing spreading through your body.

Defeated in all ways, you followed your team to the changing rooms and prepared for a night of silence in the Slytherin common room.

-- - --

Loud laughter echoed off the walls of the lavatories on the ground floor as James and Peter watched Sirius trying to climb out of the stall they had locked him in. It was almost after curfew, but Sirius had insisted they’d go past the bathroom on their way to the common room. Now wasn’t it really a problem to wander the halls after curfew, but to not do something to Sirius felt like a missed opportunity to James.

‘Just let me out, you idiots,’ Sirius whined.

‘I don’t know, should we, Wormtail?’

Peter, however, was too busy laughing to answer James. Sirius tried again to climb over the door of the stall, but his feet slipped and with a sigh he landed back on the floor.

James, out of fear that Peter would wet himself if he laughed any more, unlocked the door with a flick of his wand. ‘Alright, alright, come out then.’

Sirius’ face stood thunder as he walked out of the stall and he stared at James angrily through the mirror as he washed his hands. James stared back at him with a smirk on his face and slung his arm around his friend’s shoulder as they walked out of the restrooms. Peter followed after them, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the sleeves of his jumper.

The castle was quite silent at this time at night with most students up in the common rooms and the teachers not yet checking the halls after curfew. The windows were fogged from the cold outside and James stopped to write his name on the glass.

The three boys were turned to the window, watching James write his name and other things that definitely should not be on a harmless pane of glass. Upon hearing footsteps in the same corridor, they turned around as one.

You were walking down the corridor with your broomstick in your hand, head to toe wet and muddy. You snickered softly at the scared expressions on the three boys’ faces and nodded towards the window. ‘Do I want to know?’

Sirius grinned and shook his head, slowly reaching behind James to wipe out the texts on the window. Peter had a giddy smile on his face and he nudged James, but this one was focused on you.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, ignoring his friends.

You raised an eyebrow and looked down at your clothes. ‘Really, the broom and dirty clothes don’t say enough?’

James scowled and he felt a hint of anger coming up in his body at your sarcasm. Sirius noticed his change and nudged James lightly. ‘James—’

‘I mean what are you doing here, in this corridor? Isn’t your common room on the other side of the school?’

You shifted your weight onto your broom and nodded. ‘It is,’ you said drily. ‘And why I am here is none of your business. Especially with that attitude.’

Peter chuckled and James shot him an annoyed look, making him shut right up. James was growing more irked with the minute. He just couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone. He thought he made it very clear that he didn’t want to see you anymore.

Yet here you were again, seeking him out. Just like you did yesterday before Potions class and last weekend after the Quidditch match. James was getting tired of having to ignore you, but he knew that that was for the best. You were his ex after all.

‘Fine, I don’t care,’ James said and he turned around to leave you alone. Peter and Sirius ran after him, but not before mumbling something to you James couldn’t hear.

Sirius walked up next to James. ‘You were rude again, mate.’

‘I don’t get why they won’t leave me alone,’ James huffed and he quickened his pace so he walked ahead of his two friends.

Sirius rolled his eyes at Peter, who shrugged back, before they both followed James to the common room.

-- - --

‘Sorry I’m late.’

Remus looked up from his book and waved your excuse away lazily as he made some space for you at the table. He pushed aside his book and stacked the pieces of parchment away.

You took your edition of A History of Magic out and dropped the heavy book on the table. Scanning Remus’ book for the right page you started to browse through your own book for the same page. At the chapter on the Salem Witch Trails you stopped. It was a subject you had had in class before but, with the grade of your essay on the subject in mind, you knew that it wouldn’t hurt to revise.

‘Okay, hit me,’ you said and smiled at Remus. He cocked his eyebrow incredulous but started anyway.

‘Right, what year?’

‘1962.’

‘Where?’

‘Massachusetts.’

‘What about the judges?’

‘Mostly Puritans, but there were at least two Scourers, who were there just for personal gain.’

‘How many victims?’

‘Twenty.’

‘Do you still have feelings for James?’

‘Do I—Remus!’

You looked up from your book in shock and stared at the boy next to you, who was looking smug with the execution of his plan. He had a smirk on his face and you wished you could slap the satisfied look off his face.

‘Is that why I’m here? Just so you could interrogate me?’ you asked, leaning back in your chair and staring at Remus. ‘Remus Lupin, you little shit!’

Remus let out a laugh and shook his head, though he made sure he was out of your reach. ‘No, I really did want to study with you! But when the guys found out they wanted me to ask.’

‘You’re weak, Remus,’ you tutted and pushed him against his shoulder.

‘I know, I know,’ he said, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘But if I’m honest, I was curious myself too.’

You sighed and rubbed your hands over your face. The answer to Remus’ question was simple. No. You didn’t still have feelings for James. However, what more intrigued you was the implication behind the question. Did they think you were still in love with James? Because if so, you definitely had to set something straight.

‘Well, you can tell your friends that no, I don’t have feelings for James anymore,’ you sighed, hoping that Remus would believe you. ‘Now are you done with your cross-examination? Because I’d like to finish before dinner.’

‘Sure, sure,’ Remus chuckled, bowing over his book again. ‘Wizards’ Council, ask me.’

Quickly you searched in your history book for the chapter about the Wizards’ Council. The title sprung out on page 89 and you scanned the text shortly to come up with some questions for Remus.

‘Ready? What was the Council’s main focus?’

‘Governing the Britain wizarding society.’

‘That’s right. Name some Chiefs.’

‘Bragge and Muldoon.’

‘What can you tell me about Elfrida Clagg?’

‘She was presumably the Chieftainess in the seventeenth century. Known for trying to import the Beings versus Beasts classifications, what led to an uprising from Trolls, Jarveys and Centaurs.’

‘Right. Okay, last one—why is James avoiding me?’

Remus opened his mouth and then closed it again. He sighed and closed his eyes, before turning to you. He was searching for words and you gave him time, wanting to know the answer to the question that had been bothering you for a while now.

It was more than obvious to you that James was avoiding you. Whenever you were around he made sure to be the first one to leave, he never really answered any of your questions and most of the time he just ignored your presence. Clearly, “staying friends” had a different meaning to him than it had to you.

Not only were you losing James’ friendship, along with that you also lost the connections with Peter, Sirius and Remus. You had gone from seeing them every day to only once a week if you were lucky. You didn’t blame them, because you knew they were better friends with James than with you. Yet you knew it would not hurt him if you saw your friends a little more.

‘He’s not—’ Remus started, but you cut him off.

‘Don’t do that, Remus. I know he is avoiding me. I am not asking you to change it; I just want to know why.’

Remus rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose before he answered. ‘He is convinced that it is impossible to be friends with one’s ex.’

‘But that’s what we had agreed!’ you sputtered. ‘We didn’t work as a couple, so we decided on being friends!’

‘Well, to James that is something everyone says but never lives up to.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ you said and threw your head back, letting a cold laugh pass your lips. ‘So what? Is he just going to ignore me for the rest of his life?’

‘I don’t know,’ Remus mumbled. ‘We’ve really tried to change his mind, really. But nothing we say convinces him. He won’t listen to us.’

You shook your head and stared at your book. So this was the end of you and James? Just like that? Did you really mean that little to him? Now that you were just his friend, you were suddenly not important anymore?

You felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over your head. Your inside now twisted at the thought of James and the memories you had made with him. Some part of you felt used at your sudden unimportance to James and you wished you were curled up in bed under layers of blankets.

However, you would stay strong. If James didn’t want to be your friend you would leave him alone. But you would not allow him ripping your friends away too. You wouldn’t stop seeing Remus, Sirius and Peter just because James didn’t want to be friends.

-- - --

Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, far away rumbling with thunder. A strong breeze forced most students to stay inside for the night, but you had braved the cold and were standing at the edge of the quidditch field with your broom in your hand. The wind blew sharply against your cheeks, but you had dressed warm enough.

High up in the sky the wind howled around your ears, drowning out your thoughts. You had released one of the training-Bludgers that was soaring through the air, coming right for you. With one deep breath and full power you hit the Bludger, the flat sound of your bat against the ball echoing on the empty stands.

It was nice to not think and just train for a moment. Right now there was no one whining at your head for your answers on the Charms homework, no one asking you to play a game with you and no one inquiring after what had happened between you and James.

You hadn’t seen James in two weeks, just like he had wanted. It was weird to suddenly not be around him anymore. For so long you had shared all your free time with him and now instead you were alone in those moments. Not his laughter, not his jokes.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss him. It was always fun to be around James, he had a special way to make everything positive. After all this time you still didn’t know how he did it, but he had always cheered you up when you were feeling down. Sometimes just his presence had been enough.

A tear escaped from your eye, but whether it was from the wind or your thoughts you didn’t know. You wiped it away swiftly and braced yourself to hit the Bludger again. It was flying in big circles around you, coming closer with every round it made.

Movement down on the ground caught your attention and you tore your eyes from the Bludger. Someone was standing down on the field, a broom in their hand and a mop of black hair sticking out to all sides. It was James.

For someone who had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to see you, he sure had some nerve coming to you. You felt your blood boil upon seeing him and more violent than you had first thought you slammed the Bludger away. It flew back into the stands, where it broke one of the benches.

James was still standing on the ground, not making any move to get up in the sky. As you got back the ball you looked at him from the corner of your eye. So far from above, he looked smaller than he had ever seen. He looked… lost.

Grudgingly you flew down to the ground and jumped off your broom in front of James. Now you were closer to him, he was his big self again, but he still looked a little lost.

‘There was no practice today, right?’ you asked, suddenly wondering if he was here because he wanted to train with the Gryffindor team.

‘No,’ James said and he almost attempted to say more, but shut his mouth.

‘So you’re just here to practise alone?’

‘Uhh, yeah, I guess.’

‘And it wouldn’t bother you if I’m here too?’ you asked, your tone somewhat sharper than intended.

James shook his head and headed off to the chest with balls and other gear. You mounted your broom and let the struggling Bludger free. It flew away quickly before already starting to make its way back to you.

For minutes it was silent as both you and James practised alone. You were outing all your frustration on the Bludger and it seemed that it was holding a grudge against you for the hard hits you gave it because it kept coming back harder and harder. James was stationed at the goalposts, working on some of his new tactics. You could feel his occasional glance in your way, but you ignored them.

After some time, you descended to the ground to drink some and watched as James was struggling with the Quaffle and his wand. He obviously wanted to charm them to fly towards him as he guarded the goals. You laughed to yourself as the ball once again fell to the ground lifeless, but after a few minutes you got on your broom again and flew towards James.

‘Not that it isn’t fun to watch, but would you like some help?’  you asked carefully.

James looked from the Quaffle in his hand to the goalposts and then to you. You could hear the cogs working in his brain as he thought of what to do, but eventually he gave you a single nod and threw the Quaffle at you.

Although your position in the quidditch team was Beater, you wouldn’t say that you were bad at the other positions. Maybe it was just the feel of the ball that you had and not an actual position that you were best in, though you had trained many years to become the Beater you were today.

You started to torment James with difficult throws, making him work up a sweat. At first your aims were just to make it hard for him, but gradually you actually enjoyed playing with James. And, much to your surprise, the feeling was mutual. After half an hour there was a smile on James’ face and you recognised so much of the boy you had fallen for.

After yet another difficult ball that James only barely held, instead of throwing the Quaffle back at you he flew towards you. His smile faltered a little now he was closer to you, but that didn’t stop him from asking you if you wanted to change positions.

‘Alright, but I must tell you, I’ve gotten much better,’ you warned him with a grin and flew to the goals.

‘I doubt that,’ James shouted and he threw the ball from one hand to another. ‘You suck as Keeper!’

‘Ah! I’ll make you regret saying that, Mr. Potter!’

For a while everything was how it had used to be. There was no hurt between you and James anymore. It was just two friends playing a game together, both growing more and more competitive with every throw.

Half an hour you went on playing until it had gotten too dark to throw without chance of harm. You and James stuck away the Quaffle in silence—the easiness that had been there during the game had completely vanished. Awkwardness was creeping up your skin and you longed for something to break the silence.

As James locked the Bludger in the chest, it gave one last shudder and James let out a high-pitched yell. He fell to his feet and you burst out in laughter, clasping your hand over your mouth. From his place on the floor, James scowled dramatically at you and he attempted to hit your shin.

‘Don’t laugh!’ he cried out. ‘You scared too!’

‘Yeah, but I didn’t fall to the floor,’ you chuckled, offering James your hand. He took it and pulled himself up. Cleaning his pants, he sighed and then closed the chest with quidditch balls. Another silence filled the space between you and James. However, this time you knew exactly what to say; you just weren’t sure if you wanted to say it.

A light flash lit up the dark skies for a fraction of a second and three seconds later loud thunder roared over the silent school grounds. James and you were pulled from the tension as the first raindrops started to fall. Little drops fell on the top of your head and on your shoulders, soaking through your jumper. It was now or never.

‘Why can’t we have this?’ you asked hoarsely.

‘Rain? I think it rains more than enough,’ James joked, avoiding your eyes.

‘James, you know what I mean,’ you said, stepping a little closer. ‘Why can’t we just be friends? Why can’t we have fun, no strings attached?’

When he looked up to you, you could read the pain in his eyes. Even when you were dating, James had almost never been vulnerable. He always hid behind a smile and a joke and it was rare to see him like this.

‘Because you hurt me,’ James muttered. ‘One day you decide to end it. Just like that. You stepped away from me without any warning. I loved you and suddenly you were just gone.’

‘Do you still?’ you breathed.

James cleared his throat and shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. Not like I used to anymore.’

‘Isn’t it better then?’ you asked. ‘Can’t we try being friends? I miss you James. I miss being friends with you.’

‘I miss you too,’ James said and sniffed.

You cocked an eyebrow and smiled carefully. ‘Did I make the mighty James Potter cry? Did I break the unbreakable one?’

‘All I heard was that you think I’m mighty,’ James said.

You laughed and pushed him away. James bellowed a laugh and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. The rain was still pouring down and you were soaked from head to toe, but you didn’t care because you got your friend back.

- - - - - - - - 

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