malum ❥ one shots

Prompt #12

ok so i have no motivation to write (help me pls) but here is some kind of shitty mess of a prompt fill that i found in the depths of my (50+) incomplete works! go me! also i might start a muke book when i start writing again?? yes or no?? anyways bye love u im not dead

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Prompt AU:
• 'Every morning you walk in and inhale deeply then walk back out seriously just buy something already' AU

It happened every morning like clockwork.

Michael expected it like he expected the sun to rise and the Earth to spin, for stars to shine and birds to chirp. It was that normal of an occurrence. It used to freak him out, but after an entire month of it - all 28 days of February - Michael had just accepted it as another quirk in his life.

He didn't think anything of it for the first two days, didn't even really notice the young 'extremely your type' boy until his best friend had pointed it out. He had been smirking from behind AP Calculus worksheets, with his usually flawless quiff a mess and bright eyes that always had Michael swooning.

Are you going to buy something?

He had asked the third day that the handsome boy had come in, only to receive no response as the boy breathed in the wondrous scent of fresh baked muffins - and left. Michael had been frustrated by the fifteenth day, wanting to scream at the boy a venomous, What the hell do you want? But once again, the boy was out the door as quickly as he had came in.

At the twenty-second day mark, Michael was absolutely annoyed, to say the very least, and was prepared to get a restraining order or something from the man that was practically scent-raping his cosy little bakery.

It also kind of scared him, serial killers always had the weirdest habits, Michael would tell Ashton whenever he would catch a glimpse of the dark-haired boy. Ashton would send him back to work with a slap on the chest, a grumbling Michael complaining about how he was the one paying Ashton - not the other way around.

*

Michael was well-off, both of his parents had passed tragically, leaving their only son with a bank account so full of zeros that it gave Michael a headache.

So, he did what he always wanted to do.

He opened a bakery.

It hardly put a dink in the bank account, let alone a dent, and it was even better once the bakery starting seeing profits.

It was a cosy little shop, worn leather couches and coffee tables, always playing soft rock, r&b, or it's pop punk, Ashton! depending on who was working up front. Michael ran the shop with only his two best friends, Luke and Ashton, and that was all they needed. The former practically lived in his bakery, anyways.

Luke was still in high school, a senior, but still spent all of his free time either working behind the counter or doing homework on one of the haphazardly placed couches. At first, the young blonde worked in the back baking cookies, but was soon banned from the ovens after he burned three trays and his entire hand on the second day.

He never tried to argued with that decision.

Ashton was a bubbly twenty one year old, a dropout of high school that loved to bake and write his own stories. Michael paid him well, and he was happy as he could possibly be writing novellas and baking an assortment of sweet goodies. He enjoyed writing angsty romance stories - especially one's that had a moral, something righteous to share with the readers.