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angelofrainfrogs · 9 months

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Spend the Night: Ch. 19

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected.

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

I'm unstoppable, obstacles are impossible I don't know what you're bound to do But I'm going to hunt you down! Maybe I'm different, I never fit in Don't get it twisted, you're stuck with a misfit Don't you doubt, I'll rip your heart right out! Don't get it twisted, you're stuck with a misfit

~Misfit by Rockit Music~

“Oh shit oh shit oh SHIT—”

Michael’s frightened chanting seemed like it would never end. He was absolutely scared shitless.

Never again did he think he’d encounter the creature that took over his body for the better part of a week. He knew Ennard wasn’t dead; it simply got tired of toting around a rotting sack of meat and evacuated itself into the sewers, leaving Michael a hollowed-out husk of a man—literally and figuratively. The creature had been lured to Henry's faux diner like the rest of the outcast animatronics, and Mike thought after sending Ennard up in flames that'd be the end of it. To see this thing now, looming over Charlie’s shoulder and just as terrifying as it’d looked through that dirty, cracked window of the Scooping Room was almost too much for Michael’s strained psyche to bear.

Wait—Charlie!

Suddenly, she and Mike were no longer androids—they were squishy humans with very easy-to-remove insides, and Michael knew with every fiber of his being that Ennard was about to scoop his best friend too if he didn’t do something about it.

“You get the FUCK away from us!” Michael hissed, grabbing Charlie by the arm and pulling her behind him. He stared into that horrific clown mask, trying to control his trembling. He couldn’t afford to look weak in front of this thing ever again.

Charlie watched as Ennard raised an asymmetrical hand. It looked as if they wanted to reach out and touch her. Momentarily, Charlie was inclined to let them. Her own faux-fleshy mitt rose to meet the tangle of wires, though it would never make contact—she flinched slightly as Michael quickly shoved her protectively around his back.

“ENNARD… S… SORRY… MIKE…,” the amalgamation attempted to say. Their vocal fry and high feedback had only become worse by the year. Ennard ceased their advancement, yet those paralyzing and buggy eyes still stared unflinchingly at Michael.

It was hard to tell what thoughts were behind that smiling mask. The endoskeleton’s expression was similar to Puppet’s, unreadable and cryptic. Though every now and then, a ripple of controlled flexing would occur, the four panels on their face recalibrating while in thought.

“WE WANT TO—O HELP… MIKE IS FRIEND…”

Charlie held fast to Michael’s shirt, peering around in an alarmed way.

“Michael, please—what the hell’s going on?!” she demanded to know, watching as the unstable animatronic twitch and spasm before them. In her hazy memories Charlie had only seen glimpses of the amalgamation, always twisted in some new configuration as it slunk through the vents. She’d never had the opportunity to witness them standing in all their glory.

“FRIEND?!” Michael’s voice shrieked in a fever pitch, causing Charlie and Ennard to flinch away from him in unison. The man tried to settle, taking a few deep, unneeded breaths.

“You sure have a funny way of showing ‘friendship,’ buddy…,” Michael snapped, his tone still rife with anxiety but not nearly as loud. He refused to look away as he answered Charlie’s question, though he reached one arm behind to pat her side, as if reassuring himself that she was still free of any gaping wounds.

“Ennard is clearly very fucking confused,” he said, not liking the way the thing perked up as Michael spoke its name. Addressing the creature directly, Mike continued with narrowed eyes and a voice dripping with scathing hurt and anger. “Forgive me for not trusting you implicitly—the last time I did that, you ripped my insides out and wore my body as a meat suit for days on end. I’m not sure if you realized, but that was not a fun time for me!”

Hopefully Charlie would connect the dots and realize how exactly Michael knew this sentient mass of wires without him having to go into more detail.

Ennard scrunched up their tendril-like body. They wanted to appear smaller, more docile to him. Though it didn’t seem to work as Michael had only grown in not only fear, but now strife and rage.

As usual for one with such an amalgamated personality, Ennard was torn on what to do. They wanted to lift Mikey up, squeeze him until a few ribs cracked. When he would be in too much pain to move, then they'd sit the old-but-young-looking technician down and tell him how sorry they were.

Only… that would probably hurt him. Again. Ennard seemed to vibrate as they went through a myriad of solutions.

“WE KNOW… SHORTCUT… RABBIT MAN’S… HOUSE,” they growled in a strange, low tone.

Charlie was uncomfortable with Ennard and their familiarity from living inside of her best friend—the one who’s body they destroyed simply for a place to hide. She was just as sickened in this moment as when she’d drawn those lines for the first time shortly before the fire in Henry’s faux diner. It explained many things in Michael’s later life, and Charlie hadn’t even been given the chance to help Mike process before the flames began licking at their heels.

Her hand fisted into Michael’s shirt, unwilling to allow him to protect her when it was clear Ennard was more interested in him.

“That’s okay, Ennard!” she said, attempting to use a honey sweet tone to get past the hulking blob. “We have to stop and talk to our friends before finding William… So… You can totally go away now!”

With an incline of their head Ennard seemed to understand, but leaned in a bit closer to Michael in a sudden, jerking manner.

“WE WILL FOLLOW… MIKE WON’T SEE US… ACCORDING TO PLAN…,” they said, letting him know where they’d be hiding out in an effort to be… polite?

Who knew? Charlie only found it extra unnerving.

When Ennard reeled back its body shape changed, cracking and twisting now to cling to the walls. Ennard became more of a writhing mass of pipes and wires with a clown mask as it slipped into a vent directly above them. Charlie covered her mouth, wide-eyed as they disappeared from sight instantaneously.

“Goodie…,” she grunted after them, feeling somewhat queasy.

“And this is exactly why I didn’t want you and Gregory crawling in the vents yesterday!” Michael exclaimed, on an adrenaline high from the encounter despite the only thing close to hormones in his body being oil and grease. That thought in itself strangely worked to calm him down, lessening the dual feeling of wanting to throw up and sob uncontrollably at the same time.

Michael’s current body didn’t have any organs to remove—nor did Charlie’s. The only living humans to worry about were Vanessa and Gregory, neither of which deserved what Michael went through.

No one did… except for maybe William.

Looking towards the vent, Michael cupped his hands over his mouth and called out: “You’d better stay out of sight and do not go near any humans! If I see you so much as look at anyone funny, I’m going to rip you apart with my bare hands—I mean it!”

Where was this confidence a few years ago? Michael mused, then realized the circumstances were completely different. Besides, he knew this was really the fear talking. He’d surely devolve into a cowering mess if Ennard snuck up behind him for a friendly surprise, non-lethal or otherwise.

“You okay?” Michael asked, turning to Charlie and giving her a visual once-over. “They didn’t… touch you, did they?”

Charlie stood, resting a palm over her stomach subconsciously. Even if Ennard hadn’t made contact, the way they snaked around things didn't help the odd and foreign feeling of Charlie's skin crawling.

“No—I'm good. Are you good?” she pivoted back. Whatever use Ennard got from wearing Mike's skin no longer interested them, and now it seemed like they wanted to be nothing but chummy with their former victim. Slowly, Charlie urged Michael forward, guiding him by the elbow as they made their way to the surface once more.

She knew her friend had to go through hell to hate someone that way. Anyone who knew Michael understood that after he'd calmed down as a teenager, he only saved that deep-seated rage for things he absolutely despised. The sound of the vents above them denting and banging around loudly didn't exactly help soothing either of their nerves.

Michael hesitated a long time before answering, though he allowed Charlie to tug him along despite his mental block.

“I just… never thought I’d see that thing again,” he stuttered out eventually. “I-I mean, I helped trap them in the old diner, which is clearly why they’re still here, but… I did my damndest to avoid them like the plague during my few short days of employment.”

A full-body shiver wracked Mike’s frame and he wrapped his arms around himself, unintentionally pulling Charlie closer as she still held his elbow. He wasn’t going to complain about her comforting presence, though.

“I can’t believe they think of me as a friend…,” Michael groaned, eyes lifted high to the ceiling as the banging continued. “Oh for fuck’s sake—there’s no way we’re listening to that all night. We’re supposed to be stealthy when we get up top!”

He shouted these last words in the vain hope Ennard would get the hint and leave them alone, at least when they reached the surface. The last thing they needed was the creature popping out of a vent at the worst moment and blowing their cover…

“S... SORRY-Y-Y.” Ennard's distant voice echoed inside the vents, apparently willing to listen to Michael somewhat. It would be endearing were it not for the dreadful way Ennard had treated the man during their first encounter decades prior.

No, he didn't die. Though some would consider what Michael went through a fate worse than death. The pain and social stigma of being a literal rotting corpse was something Charlie didn't ever want to know.

“Try to just ignore it, Michael,” she murmured, giving his arm a squeeze. “We're both going to be okay; just keep moving...”

If not for the odd sense of nausea that came over her, Charlie might be finding it hard not to laugh with delirium. Not at Michael's fear, no—but at the strange obsession Ennard had for him, even after all this time.

Mike nodded, placing a hand on top of Charlie’s to return the squeeze. He remained silent as they wound their way through the basement, only startling once when Ennard popped its freaky clown mask out of a vent to say they were heading the wrong way. After that there were no further incidents, although they did pass a closed door that Charlie and Michael swore they heard more metallic clinking behind… But there was no more time to linger. They needed to get out of that place and rejoin Freddy and Gregory.

Plus, Michael couldn’t take any more surprises at the moment.

Eventually, they emerged in a large storage pantry behind the kitchen. They carefully made their way towards the elevator that would take them up to the main atrium, looking around for their friends as they did so.

“If they’re not here, they’re probably in that security office,” Michael murmured. “It’s the safest place we’ve found so far, and I’m sure Freddy’s beside himself and wants to keep Gregory extra safe. I just know he’s pissed at me for my little stunt with the compactor.” He laughed softly, a smile finally returning to his face. “He really is a perfect dad for that kid… Uncle Henry was thinking way ahead of his time, and he didn’t even know it.”

Charlie agreed, feeling comfortable enough to let Michael go once they reached the vibrant neon lights of the surface. Not that she was scared, Charlie lied to herself. Someone had to look out for Mike, and no one else was going to get him to move.

“Dude, we got so lucky! I'm just glad Dad has an overactive mind and a lot of spare time,” Charlie remarked, allowing a smile to pull at the corners of her lips at the serendipity of it all.

One of the good things about walking around as an adult human, she mused: Roxy and Moon would be less likely to attack. Their main targets were a bear, a child, a fox, and a puppet. No one would be paying that much attention to some normal-looking twenty-year-olds. They’d probably just be clocked as normal trespassers—which might be a problem in itself, but one they could worry about when it came up.

“Might be easier to sneak through the backrooms,” Charlie suggested, taking a left at an access door. The noticeable banging from inside the vents had slowly left them, but Charlie had a nagging suspicion that Ennard was still following. Maybe just in a more discreet way.

“Ah shit,” Charlie realized as they traversed the halls. “They're not going to recognize us! Plus, we left the Fazblaster with Henry...” She groaned, realizing this might take more time to convince Freddy and Gregory that the pair weren't simple tricks.

“Oh, damn it.” Michael echoed her sentiment, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “If only we had some of those handy Fazwatches… then we could just call Freddy and fill him in.”

He glanced down at his wrist, examining it closely—in the comparatively brighter light of the main level, he could see all the finer details Henry had added, like subtle veins and the occasional freckle here and there where they’d smattered Michael’s arms. Honestly, he wondered if people would actually think they were real humans at first glance. Michael knew that he sure would as an outside observer.

But on the flip side, as Charlie pointed out Freddy and Gregory would likely be wary. As they approached one of the security office doors, Michael located the camera and waved with a cheery smile.

“Well, hopefully they’ll recognize our voices at least,” Michael said, lowering his hand into a fist poised to knock. He shot Charlie a slightly-nervous glance as he rapped on the metal. “Hey, Freddy and Gregory? You in there? It’s Mike and Charlie—we’re alright!”

First they only met with the sound of ventilation running, nothing to answer them but the sounds of the Pizzaplex around them. Then there was a very aggressive shout from a slightly-cracking child’s voice.

“What's the password?!”

“Password?” Charlie questioned, looking to Michael. “I-I don't remember a password...”

When the security door opened, Gregory was standing there, laughing with eyes closed. “There's no password, I was just—”

Upon opening those large hazel eyes, Gregory was shocked into silence. First he looked to Michael, then back to Charlie, then at Michael—alternating between the pair as he floundered for rational thought. Unable to come to a good conclusion, he called for Freddy with uncertainty in his voice.

“Daaad? Mike and Charlie are possessing people...”

Normally, Gregory would never snitch. But he drew the line at possession. While it was a cool concept, people needed their own bodies, and Gregory hated to think of what these unfortunate souls were going through with ghosts hitching a ride in their brains—if they even realized it was happening…

Blinking, Charlie waved her hands defensively. “No, we are not!”

“We aren't!” Michael insisted as Freddy quickly approached. “It's a long story, but these are our bodies! Kind of... they're still robots, but they were made for us, specifically. Pretty cool, huh?”

For a moment, Freddy simply stared at them. No, not them—his gaze was transfixed on Michael, eyes narrowed as he placed a protective hand on Gregory's shoulder. His facial recognition didn't activate for Charlie, but it sure did for “Michael”...

Or, as Freddy's database told him: William Afton.

However... the boy's voice was the same as the one in Freddy's head not 48 hours prior. The more he looked over this "human," the more Freddy realized he was much too young to be William—even if he'd been preserved at the age he'd gone missing, William still had a good few decades on the youthful face staring up at him. A face that was quickly falling with recognition as Freddy remained silent.

Michael knew that look all too well.

“No, I'm not—it's me, Freddy!” His tone was a bit desperate, needing the bear to believe he wasn't his father. “It's—”

“Michael! I am glad you and Charlie are back safe and sound!” Freddy finally piped up, removing his hand from Gregory's shoulder and holding his arms out for a hug instead. With a relieved sigh, Mike gladly fell into the embrace.

That standoff was nerve-wracking. Charlie let out simulated sigh, tucking herself in beside her old friend for the comfort of Freddy. As she placed her ear against the bear’s chest, Charlie could hear a beeping. It sounded like the volume had been turned down on a car alarm... After cohabiting inside the Puppet’s body for so long, it was easy for her to recognize it as the automated criminal database system, severely toned down from what it had been in the nineties.

Charlie bit her lip. Poor Michael...

At least Freddy had self-awareness. Coupled with his ability to think logically, he was quick to realize Mike was innocent in all of this.

Off to the side, in an odd change from his usual demeanor, Gregory was simply staring at them.

“Gregory? What's wrong?” Charlie asked upon pulling from Freddy's hug.

The boy shook his head. He’d been only interacting with animatronics this whole time, and hyper-realistic forms made Gregory uncertain. Yes—they were his friends. He knew that. But now they were human, and in a strange way foreign to him.

“I-I'm good on hugs for now!” he said, a strange anxiety building in his chest.

“Oh... hey, I'm sorry we couldn't give you a heads-up about this,” Michael apologized, taking a guess as to what the problem was. He might not be able to read Gregory's mind, but it was clear the kid was unnerved by their new bodies. It made sense, though—just from the small amount of information they knew of his backstory, the humans in Gregory's life hadn't been the best, especially older ones that were supposed to care for him. Michael could certainly relate to that.

Crouching down, Mike didn't offer a hug but simply rested his arms on his knees. Subconsciously, he was amazed at the lack of creaking in his joints, the movements fluid and smooth as if he were made of flesh and bone, not wire and metal. Now closer to Gregory's eye level and hopefully less intimidating, he gave the boy a grin. “I'm also sorry I don't have that cool pirate aesthetic going on anymore. I'm sure I can still find an eyepatch and hook around this place, though—the hook might be plastic, but hey... it's better than nothing, right?”

Mike and Charlie weren't scary in the slightest. So why did Gregory feel like he wanted to run away?

He looked at Michael, subconsciously embracing himself for comfort. There was nothing wrong exactly. He needed to get a damn grip. Unwilling to hurt his friend's feelings, Gregory closed the distance and gave Michael a hug.

“It's okay...,” he decided, squeezing Mike around the shoulders. “We can always shave a cool mohawk into your head.”

This made Charlie cover her mouth to hide her laughter, before glancing to Freddy. Lowering her hand, she tried to put his mind at ease with a smile. “Anyway—we’re supposedly still as strong as our old bodies. Don't worry about us not being able to defend ourselves.”

“That is good to know,” Freddy replied with audible relief. He could already tell the pair were happier in these forms than they'd been in the Fazbear Entertainment mascots, but it was worrying to see them looking so comparatively frail. Freddy tilted his head questioningly. “How exactly did you find these, might I ask?”

“Well... long story short: Charlie's dad,” Michael said, standing back up and ruffling Gregory's hair as he did so. Since the boy didn't flinch away, he knew they were on good terms once again. “His spirit’s lingering in the Pizzaplex like ours, waiting to get revenge on William. The trash chute ended up leading us to a sort of... hide-out, I guess? It's where he and the others are, anyway.”

Or were, Michael thought, his eyes briefly snapping to a vent covering in the floor. If he saw even the sliver of a wire poke through, he was going to stomp on it without abandon. He seemed to lose steam in his retelling as he focused on the vent, leaving Freddy and Gregory to look at Charlie for the missing information.

As if summoned by the thought alone, a thin wire wiggled through the slats, tantalizing and luring Michael closer.

“Yeah! We found my pops in the garbage chute,” Charlie continued, earning a timid laugh from Gregory the boy acclimated to their new appearances. “Speaking of others, we found—or, sorry, one of Michael's old, uh… co-workers found us.”

Charlie gestured to the grate on the floor, watching as Michael begun to stomp and kick at the various mechanical eyes that popped through the grating.

“MIKEY!” the high-frequency voice gushed, happy that the man was paying attention to them. It felt like bonding, after all; they didn't see Michael trying to stomp anyone else in the room! The little wires were too quick to be severely damaged by his shoe falls, and Gregory watched in utter confusion.

“Will you just. Fucking. Go—”

“Michael!” Freddy exclaimed, covering Gregory's ears even though it was already too late. Mike and the wires froze at his tone, both of them seeming a bit embarrassed. With a sigh, Freddy gently reminded: “There is a child in our presence; let us keep the language to a minimum when possible, please?”

Michael didn't feel the need to point out that he'd already heard Gregory curse multiple times, and the boy likewise. He flashed them an apologetic smile, then yelped and quickly stomped down as he felt a tendril wrap around his ankle. He actually managed to catch a wire under his shoe this time, though of course Ennard didn't seem bothered in the slightest. Still, it was a small victory to Michael, and he moved away from the vent with a satisfied smile.

“They were more of a bad, bad roommate,” Mike elaborated, his expression slipping into one more serious as the anxiety peeked through just a little bit. “For real though, please stay away from them—if you hear that voice, just ignore it. Also... stay out of the vents.”

Gregory had flinched when Freddy raised his voice. It was rare to hear him scold people in such a way. Maybe with Michael’s increased confidence, he’d been cursing with Charlie. Gregory had caught a glimpse of the thing harassing Mike from the vents and watched on with a supremely concerned gaze. It seemed that every time Michael came back after being separated from the group, he would return with some new oddity.

“What does it want...?” Gregory decided to ask. Charlie, who seemed to bear a naturally upturned smile in her true body, merely shrugged.

“That’s the fun part—we don’t know. I think they totally like Mikey, though,” she remarked, the light jab at Michael’s expense successfully making Gregory snicker.

“I’ll stay away from the vents,” Gregory agreed, his laugh cut short as a wired eyeball stuck out from the darkness to observe him and Charlie’s interaction curiously.

“Thank you,” Michael said, glaring at Charlie for her comment. “They don’t like me, they’re just... weirdly obsessed.” He let out a tired sigh, shoulders sinking low as the tension in his body released somewhat.

“Whatever. The only not-horrible thing about Ennard—that's what they call themselves, by the way—is that they apparently know a secret way to William's hideout.” Michael spared a glance at the vent, resisting the sudden, violent urge to kick that eyeball across the room. “So whenever we're ready, I guarantee they'll be ready to help.”

“Well, ah... thank you in advance, Ennard,” Freddy said, for once sounding a bit awkward. He didn't know what to make of this creature either, and despite Charlie's joking statements Michael clearly hated the thing with a passion. Although, Freddy had a feeling the story of why was best reserved for when Gregory wasn't listening.

“THE SHORTCUT… IS THROUGH THIS VENT…,” Ennard informed them, perhaps purposefully contradicting Michael’s request to Gregory.

“—Is there a faster way?” Charlie asked patiently. Ennard responded with a low-pitched whine, wiggling a few wires in protest.

“NOOOO… VENT… ONLY WAY…WE LEAVE THE VENT. MIKE AND FRIENDS GO… VENT.” It sounded like they were trying to work out a compromise.

When Gregory saw the clown mask press against the grate, he waved at it—experimentally checking if this Ennard was cool. In response, Ennard pinched their nose, producing a soft honking sound that made Gregory just a teensy bit less scared of them. Despite their weirdness and Michael’s obvious hatred of the thing, at least they weren’t trying to rip Gregory’s face off like most of the other robots he’d met so far.

...

...Oh hell no—this thing wasn't about to bond with Michael's new pseudo-brother! Swiftly stepping between Gregory and the vent, Mike looked down at the clown face. “We'll keep looking for another way, but if that's our only option... we'll consider it.”

There was a moment of silence, save for the shifting and clinking of metal as Ennard once again tried to grasp at Michael's ankles until the man moved away with a final, solid stomp that shook the floor. His eyes widened in surprise as he stared at his feet—it seemed Henry had been right about their hidden strength. A moment later, Freddy spoke up in a hesitant tone.

“So, is Chica... taken care of?” His face was set, though the regret in his eyes was clear. Freddy was so glad he hadn't gotten a glimpse of her mangled body as she went down the chute—he'd only caught Charlie's hand slipping down as well, prompted to look by her terrified scream and Michael's subsequent dash to her rescue.

“It’s done,” Charlie said, relaxing by setting herself down into an office chair. She wheeled around, carefully omitting the part where she had to finish Chica off inside the vents and on the ground below when the bird suddenly tried to tear her arm off in a fit of confused rage. It wouldn’t be right to say such a thing in front of Freddy.

“You all didn’t see anything up here?” she asked to make sure, and Gregory shook his head.

“Nope; we’ve been in here just waiting for you guys to come back,” he replied, glancing away from where Michael looked about ready to murder the robot under his feet. Ennard must have been a really bad roommate… A hopeful smile grew on Gregory’s face as he clasped his hands together. “That means we can take out Roxy now, right?”

“Right,” Freddy agreed with a nod. He just had to keep telling himself that his friends would be repaired soon. They'd be back to themselves, and hopefully their virus-induced amnesia would last just enough for them to not remember how Freddy, a small child, and various haunted animatronics decommissioned them until they could no longer move.

“So... where do you think Roxy would be?” Michael asked, striding up to a row of computer monitors and looking at the feeds. “Doesn't she have a raceway or something...?”

“Yes, and she spends most of her time there,” Freddy added, looking around until he found one camera feed pointed into the raceway. It was a view from high up in a corner so it was hard to make out many details, but if they looked close enough they could just barely see a twitching shape stalking the track. Freddy pointed to the figure with a blue claw. “There she is.”

Roxy seemed to be in dire straits, slapping herself periodically to hype herself up. She'd looked everywhere again and still couldn’t manage to find the kid. She was pacing for a bit as they watched her. Then, in a burst of anger she howled to the ceiling before kicking a defenseless wet floor bot.

Gregory pulled a face at Roxy’s behavior. Though certainly with them all together, they could take her on. In a way, Gregory had to have his friends get him motivated, as their encounters with the robots became increasingly more violent with each sighting.

“Okay, to Roxy Raceway! And if we have time afterwards, we’ll do some go-karting,” Gregory said with certainty, as if the last part was set in stone.

“Hmm... I believe you will need to ride with a driver assist bot, superstar,” Freddy commented as the group shuffled for the door. When Gregory made a face at him, the bear clarified: “There is a height limit for single riders, and you fall a few inches short.”

“Wow... good to know there's some safety precautions around this place,” Michael muttered in a voice dripping with sarcasm. He rolled his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets, a gesture that came naturally to him now that he had his new body.

To his mild relief, Ennard had scuttled off and could no longer be heard shifting underneath the floor, although Mike knew the creature wouldn't be far behind. Hell, maybe if they were lucky, Ennard would go after Roxy and try to use her outer suit for their own... That'd sure save them a lot of time and effort. Michael snickered to himself at the thought, and when Charlie raised an eyebrow he simply shook his head.

Upon seeing Mike clearly musing something over, Charlie mouthed a quick, “Okay weirdo,” in a playful manner. Her own feelings were becoming easier to read with her now expression-packed face.

Learning that he’d need to use an assist driver, Gregory stood tall and puffed out his chest.

“Are you calling me short?” he asked with the confidence of a fully grown man. Charlie belted out a laugh—not at him, but rather at the way he said it. So accusatory, not really hurt but almost as if he didn't believe them when they told him he couldn't drive by himself.

“Charlie! I can drive on my own, I swear!” he snapped defensively. Charlie's hand went out, able to rake through his hair better.

“No,” she replied with a smile on her face. No explanation; just no.

Though Gregory let out a short whine, this time he’d have to relent. The decision was unanimous by the family it seemed.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” Mike said amiably, patting the kid's back with a grin. “Talk to me in a few years, and I'll show you how to drive a real car—how's that?” He then paused in his tracks, blinking a few times as a realization hit him. “Oh... I guess I'm the only one around here that can legally drive, huh?”

“I do not think this is a conversation we need to be having right now,” Freddy said, though his chuckle showed no real annoyance with the whole thing. He simply didn't want the boys to get lost in another tangent, especially as Gregory seemed to perk up at the thought of driving something more than a mere racecar. Freddy smiled down at his son, relenting: “Alright, if we have time, you can do one lap around the track—but you must have Michael go with you, if not a driver assist bot.”

Was this the best idea?

...Probably not. But would the pair enjoy the experience? Unquestionably yes. Besides, Freddy trusted Michael in his new—but still robotic—vessel to protect Gregory, and there were safety precautions such as barriers set up to avoid harsh crashes.

Well... at least there used to be. Who knew what state the racetrack was in now that Roxy had been rampaging through it the past few nights? Freddy would have to make a final decision on whether his son could cruise around after they took care of the wolf.

The conversation reminded Charlie to ask when the kid's birthday was exactly. After all, when he turned 16 it was probably in his best interest to learn how to drive from Michael. In fact, all of them should probably learn to work a car at some point.

When Gregory brightened up at this, he seemed more energetic than before. Going to Michael's side, Gregory pulled at the hem of his shirt.

“We're totally going to kick their butts on the racetrack,” Gregory remarked with natural confidence. It awakened a healthy competitiveness in Charlie that she forgot existed. Moving hair from her face, she rolled her eyes.

“We'll see after we put Roxy to bed, dingus,” she quipped without malice, but rather to keep Gregory in this high spirit mood.

As they neared closer to the end game, she wanted to make sure that her little brother was going to be alright emotionally. Lord knew how much therapy this kid was going to need after all this was said and done. Pushing out of her chair, she went and waited for them all by the door, ready to embark on their next adventure.

“Heck yeah we will!” Michael readily agreed, holding out a hand for Gregory to high-five. Once this ritual was completed they followed Charlie, Freddy bringing up the rear so he could keep watch in front of and behind them.

“Stay close together,” the bear murmured, his parental instincts kicking in to the extreme at the sudden increase of danger. He knew no one wanted to part from the group, especially after their last experience, but he needed to say it all the same. Altogether, they stepped out of the security office and started for the raceway.

As they filed out into the Pizzaplex, Charlie grasped onto Gregory's hand to keep track of the boy more easily. He seemed even more distracted now. When Freddy insisted they wait back at the security room after their impromptu split, Gregory must have lost focus.

His hand slipped easily into her grip, amazed at how soft her skin was for a metal. Or maybe it was silicone? An extra-opaque ballistic gel? He looked from her towards Michael as they walked, and Gregory had questions.

“You guys have blood? Like, in you?” he wondered, as Charlie's hand felt warm to the touch.

Charlie raised a skeptical eyebrow, and being unsure of the real answer, volleyed the question right back. “I don't know; do you?”

This earned her a sarcastic no as they rolled into the main atrium once more.

On the other side of this long walk remained one person they seemed to have forgotten about the whole night. The only person capable of doing the late night shift had been doing her hourly rounds with a splitting headache.

Vanessa heard the telltale sign of an animatronic trying to sneak but failing to do so for the simple fact that they weigh hundreds of pounds, and that's going to make an impact with any sort of floor. Monty was still MIA, and now Chica was, too. Last she checked, Sun was still in the Daycare sitting under a floodlight, pouting from the fact that staff had tricked him into a dark room to let Moon out earlier that day. Nothing had happened, save for Moon getting a lecture at being dented and scratched, so Vanessa really didn't know what the guy was so freaked out about. That left only Roxy or Freddy as the culprit of who wandered the halls, and Vanessa had a suspicion of which one she was about to come face to face with.

“Freddy!” she shouted, rounding the corner and spotting the bright orange bear. “What the hell are you—”

She stopped, jaw slack as she took stock of the three people in front of him. There was that damn kid again—she knew he was real and not just a figment of her tired imagination!

But these others... they were new.

Vanessa raised her flashlight accusingly and shined it directly at them, shifting the light between the unfamiliar faces. “For god's sake, Freddy, where the hell do you keep picking up these people?! Who are you, and what are you doing here after hours?!”

Charlie raised her hand, shielding her now sensitive eyes from the light. Who does that? Shines a light into someone’s eyes before interrogating them? Charlie swallowed thickly upon realization of who stepped in their path. She felt Gregory's hands hug her waist, pressed into her like Vanessa threatened to take him away.

“She’s still trying to kidnap me, for sure!” he whisper-yelled in a frightened manner, potentially more scared of Vanessa than the murder-happy robots of the Pizzaplex. When the night guard demanded to know who they were, Charlie nudged Michael to follow her lead.

“Uh—what? You can't seriously be asking us that. Is she serious?” Charlie remarked, looking around to her friends as she finalized what she was going to say in her head. She already hated herself for sounding like such a spoiled brat, but it was a last-ditch effort. “Our dads' would be pretty upset knowing one of their employees was treating family like this!”

“Your dads?” Vanessa gave her a scathing look—clearly, this girl was just trying to lie her ass off. “Why the hell would I know who your dads are?”

“Charlie, please—” Michael held up a hand as Charlie opened her mouth to protest, then turned his attention to Vanessa. He wore a raised eyebrow look of offended contempt that only a certain brand of people could truly express, and Mike had learned it from the best. It made his skin crawl to look at someone like this, but that was nothing compared to the sick-to-the-stomach sensation he got from his next words. Amping his accent up to an even more pronounced Brighton lilt, he asked the guard: “Surely you recognize my face, don't you? My looks run in the family, so I've been told. As a security guard of Fazbear Entertainment, you must at least know who the important people are around here...”

“Why the hell would I recognize—oh.”

The realization of who she was looking at hit Vanessa like a truck. Though her hazy memory, she recalled some of the old training videos she'd watched waaaay back when she started working at a contracted company as a VR tester. They contained images of the Fazbear Entertainment founders, and now that she really looked at the man in front of her she knew exactly who he was—or who he was related to, at least.

“O-Oh my god, Mr... Mr. Afton, I-I'm so sorry! I didn't recognize you; I thought—” She frowned slightly. Hadn't the sole heir to the Afton line gone missing years ago? This twenty-something dude would have to be his son, then—grandson to the founder in her memory and appearing out of... where, exactly?

...It didn't really matter. What mattered was that an honest-to-god Afton was standing here in front of her, and Vanessa had already screamed at him and his guests. She cringed, waiting for the consequences. God, she hoped she wasn't about to be fired on the spot.

Charlie must’ve been a really bad liar or something. Everyone always seemed to pick her ruses apart easily. She cringed internally when Vanessa shot her a scathing look, but the dynamic quickly changed as Michael made that face. She could tell he was attempting to mimic his father with the dead-eyed frown he shot at her. It even made Charlie uncomfortable. Though, for sake of keeping up the façade, she placed what was meant to look like a placating hand on Mike's arm.

“She must not’ve known. Typical. Management's always sort of slow to get the word out.” Touching a hand to her chest in an attempt to seem more genuine, Charlie told Vanessa. “We're investigating this odd glitch in the latest operating system. Do you mind?”

As she spoke, Charlie pushed Gregory behind her, accidentally and subconsciously saying please do not ask about the child.

“N-No, I'm sorry, Ms. Emily,” Vanessa responded quickly, making the correct assumption that this must be an Emily, daughter of their current CEO. Sammy hadn’t ever mentioned having a kid, though… but Vanessa wasn't going to question it. As long as it meant keeping her job after this whole fiasco, she'd do anything they wanted. She was already on major thin ice as it was.

“Please, explore all you'd like,” Vanessa continued, hanging her head in deferment as she gestured for the group to move on. She had many questions about this whole situation, such as why the hell they were here during night shift toting around Glamrock Freddy and—

That kid! He was walking behind Charlie, clinging to her like she was his lifeline, and Vanessa couldn't help herself. She had to know at least one thing.

“Uh, excuse me,” she called, and the group stopped in their tracks to turn to her. She looked from the boy to the heirs, asking in a small voice: “I'm sorry if this is a weird question, but do you... know this kid? I-It's just, he was running around unsupervised last night, so I was worried and trying find him so I could contact his guardians...”

“He's my cousin; can't you see the family resemblance?” Michael responded flatly, that dead-eyed stare back in full force. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, though what he was annoyed about was anyone's guess. “He simply got too excited to visit and ran off on his own last night. We've already had a discussion about it, and he won't do it again; isn't that right, Gregory?”

Michael raised an eyebrow at Gregory, who caught on quickly to the act. He averted his eyes from both him and Vanessa before uttering a quick: “Sorry, security guard lady.”

Because genuinely, it did hurt to even have to pretend to apologize to her.

“Vanessa,” Charlie corrected, patting his hair. “You know kids!”

She laughed, allowing Vanessa some mental leeway. While Charlie and Michael pulled the wool over her eyes, Charlie thought of a plan. Curiously, she brought up Vanessa's arm being inside of a sling.

“Odd that they’d make you work with an injured arm like that. Right, Mike?” Charlie remarked, wondering if they could minimize damage by just telling Vanessa to clock out. “If you're unwell, we’d rather you use sick leave than hurt yourself further while on the job...”

Charlie did her best to sound like those ancient video work-place safety videos she'd constantly hear William and Henry record as a child. Gregory had gone back to clinging onto Charlie, staring up to Vanessa and for a good moment believing they could potentially trick her. As long as that weird, creepy Vanny persona didn’t come out, he’d spare a bit of hope.

“Oh, this? It's just a little sprain!” Vanessa insisted. It was a bit more than that, so the doctor had said, and she'd be in a cast for a little while until everything refused into its proper place—but she couldn't afford to look weak in front of arguably the most important people in the company besides the CEO himself. “I appreciate your concern, but I'll be alright.”

Ness attempted a reassuring smile, though it came out as more of a nervous, slightly pained grimace. “There's just a few more hours until my shift ends—and besides, I'm the only night guard, so if I leave then there won't be any security here for your protection.”

Michael longed to tell her that she would be protecting them much more if she simply went home. However, he didn't want to push his luck. He was already tired of this façade, the internal turmoil of pretending to be “just like his father” making his head hurt.

Could he get headaches in this body? He certainly felt like one was coming on...

“Alright, well, we request that you keep to light activities to avoid further stress—we'd hate for you to get hurt on company time, now wouldn't we?” He flashed her a shark-like grin, all teeth and no room for argument. Vanessa nodded quickly, and with a swift turn on his heel Michael led the group away from her once again. This time, she was happy to let them go.

The group passed Vanessa by, watching her tremble just a bit from Michael's all too familiar and manipulative grin. Upon seeing her move from their sight, Charlie squeezed his arm.

“I'm really sorry you had to do that, but if we ever get out of here, please pursue an acting career,” she told him, trying to lighten his mood after what was likely a soul-crushing act. Gregory had in turn nudged Charlie, snickering.

“You should never act again. Why are you so bad at lying?” the kid asked her bluntly, causing Charlie to look down at her feet as they quickly stalked for the backrooms again.

“Look, I was a good kid,” Charlie said, implying her terrible deception skills were due to a more wholesome upbringing. Also, somewhat of a lie—she could tell Gregory didn't buy that either. She was just bad at hiding the truth, especially now that she had a real face again.

Michael snorted at this, and to Gregory he said: “You're not so bad yourself—you did a good job playing the innocent little kid!”

He laughed at this, nudging Gregory's shoulder playfully. Then he realized there was someone in the group who'd been uncharacteristically silent, and he turned to look over his shoulder at the animatronic with a concerned frown. “Hey, Freddy, are you alright?”

“Yes, I am fine,” the bear responded with a smile, and to Michael's relief it was genuine. Realizing the others' worry, he clarified: “I am just sorry I could not help in that situation. You all were wonderful, though—and for the record, Michael, I think you could have an acting career ahead of you if you so choose!”

“Ugh, as long as I don't have to play anything remotely close to a stuck-up as—butthole, then maybe I'll consider it,” Michael replied, thankful he'd caught his curse in time. He flashed Gregory a smile and ruffled his hair. “Now, let's get this thing done—I've got to ride one of those racecars with you before the night's over.”

Charlie was positive that's all he would be type-casted as. Either that or a bond-villain. She could see either avenue making him bored.

After receiving affectionate head pats from Michael, Gregory told his ursine dad: “You did great, don't even worry!”

He knew Freddy wanted to help, but felt stuck. It was probably close to physically impossible for him to not lie to anyone, so deeply ingrained was the notion of truth in his programming.

Curving around the corners and ducking through shadowed supply rooms, the Raceway was in sight. The darkness of the corridor made Gregory fish for his flashlight and illuminate the way for the group. Gregory grew more excited as the smell of motor grease and burnt rubber invaded his nose.

“Should we make a plan before going inside?” Charlie dared to ask, pulling Gregory from his good mood once realizing they never actually formulated a plan to take Roxy down.

“Definitely,” Mike agreed, settling into the shadows with everyone else. He stared around hopefully, but upon meeting nothing but dead silence, he asked: “So... any ideas?”

“We will need to keep Gregory out of her sight—more so than the others',” Freddy pointed out, instinctively gripping the boy's shoulder to keep him close. “Roxy is fast when she wants to be, and if we are not careful she could catch him easily. Unfortunately she cannot be lured with food like Chica, but there must be something else we can do... something to distract her so that we can sneak up when she least expects it.”

Freddy tried not to dwell on the fact that he'd likely be the one to physically incapacitate her. It would hurt him deeply, just like taking down his other friends, but it was all worth it to protect his new family.

Charlie began rubbing her temples in thought. When her gaze landed on the boys, she paused. She seemed to be working something out, tongue pressing against her cheek in an old, familiar gesture. Before Gregory could ask Charlie what she was thinking about, she hushed him with a wave and asked Freddy:

“Do you think Roxy can run faster than a go-kart? Or... Maybe we could rig a cart to be even faster. Then use it to avoid Roxy before one of us can... You know.”

There was something about having a human body again that made her more animated—likely because it felt good to be in something so close to her own skin. Gregory watched every nervous movement, finding Charlie heaps more relatable now whenever she spoke.

Freddy tilted his head, blinking as he accessed information about the top speed of the Roxy Raceway go-karts, as well as the top speed of Roxanne Wolf’s gait at full sprint.

“The racecars are designed to move a few miles per hour faster than Roxy at maximum speed,” he announced, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to figure out Charlie's line of thought. “So you... wish to have her chase the go-kart?”

“Yeah... I mean, she's a hunter, right?” Michael postulated, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against a nearby wall. “Maybe the movement will catch her eye, and as she's chasing it down we can, I don't know—throw something at her to knock her down, then Freddy and I can get her?”

But what would be heavy enough to knock over a half-ton robot? Michael was onto something, he just didn't have all the pieces yet.

“We could spill oil onto the track?” Gregory hypothesized, scratching the side of his head in thought. “Then hope she slips on it!”

He sincerely hoped the way they were discussing Roxy's eventual decommissioning hadn't been bugging Freddy too badly. In light of this Gregory decided to lean on his ursine dad, supporting him with a loose side hug. Charlie furrowed her brows and bit her tongue.

“I don't know. She's got good eyesight. She'll see the oil slick on the raceway...” Charlie didn't want to completely throw Gregory’s suggestion out, though. It was a good back-up. “We'll do that as a last ditch effort.”

“If you three would like to start the go-kart and set it off on the track, I can distract Roxy,” Freddy suggested. Though he loathed the thought of not being physically near them, it’s not like they were truly splitting up—they’d still be in the same room, just on different sides of it.

“The starting line for the track is in the far corner from where we are about to enter,” Freddy went on to explain. “I could keep Roxy's attention so she stays on the opposite side of the attraction, thus giving you all more time to work. There should be a special switch within the control panel of the race cars that will allow you to set them to ‘test mode’—flip this, and the cars will run the track with only a driver assist bot. Once Roxy is thoroughly distracted, I can… incapacitate her.”

Gregory nodded his confirmation. After looking around the group, he was the first to open the doors and peek into the attraction. Quickly, he opened his watch to inspect the security feeds, checking around the blind spots just outside the entrance. Once he begun to slip past the doors Charlie held it open, motioning for the others to quickly follow through. With Freddy distracting the wolf, the plan should go accordingly.

Then again, when was the first time that happened in the past day and a half? This group made a habit of having their carefully thought-out plans derailed by a specific brand of weirdness.

Charlie followed Mike and Gregory to assist in turning the switches off on the cart control panels. Currently she was despising how much harder it’d become to sneak around with a standard-shaped body, realizing as they crouched together low in a group that she was going to miss the benefits of being a marionette in some ways.

As the trio snuck around, Freddy made a beeline for Roxy. She didn’t notice him at first, twitching and sniffing the air while emitting snarls of anger, but his bright wave soon caught her attention. The look she gave him made Freddy want to simultaneously grovel for her forgiveness for harming their friends, and run away before the wolf took revenge into her own claws.

“Hello, Roxy,” the bear said calmly, pushing past his newfound emotions and coming to a stop just out of striking range should Roxy snap. They were standing on a bridge overlooking the racetrack, part of which ran directly underneath their feet.

Roxy, for one solid moment, seemed to give Freddy a knowing stare. She stood, fists clenched at her side while trying to stay brave. She was still infected—it showed in the way she spoke, voice box strained as she resisted the personality overwrites in her code.

“Why’d you do it, Fred?” she asked, completely unaware what was happening on the raceway.

She had a feeling she knew why Freddy was here. All of the forced confidence in the world wouldn't change her outcome... If Freddy hadn’t found and cornered her on the open bridge, she would’ve taken the time to look around for the child he protected so dearly. Though taking her eyes off the murderous bear could mean her life if she wasn't careful.

Freddy was an animal now, destroying every one of his friends under the influence of that child. Though her inner dialogue was clear, Roxy twitched, sparks flying from her as she spoke. Even the sides of her legs looked burned, as if she’d been running so fast she overworked the pistons.

For just a moment, Roxy seemed more like herself with the confidence of someone who’s the best and they know it. And then her expression shifted to one of poorly-hidden fear, not unlike the way Chica stared up at Freddy after he’d severed her arm. In a way, this was worse than if she'd just decided to outright attack him.

“You will not believe me, but I did it to protect everyone,” Freddy replied simply, answering everything and nothing at once. He kept his eyes locked on his bandmate. “I did it to make things right… In whatever way necessary.”

With clenched fists Roxy stepped forward, advancing angrily on the bear.

“You're right—” she growled at her once-beloved friend. “—I don't believe you!”

Lifting her knee high, Roxy's foot sprang forward aiming to connect to Freddy's chest in an attempt to knock him down. Freddy barely managed to dodge, jumping to the side just in time to avoid the impact. He let out a gasp of surprise as Roxy’s claws caught his arm, gouging deep dents in the metal. Freddy didn’t want to fight her, but he knew he’d have to keep this up as he waited for the telltale sound of a race car speeding down the track.

Roxy felt something in her as her own claws made contact to the metal, watching as little rows bunched up and sparks flew from the impact on Freddy's arm.

Perhaps she was the scariest. The thought rolled across her mind and Roxy garnered a sick satisfaction from it.

***

Meanwhile, on the other side of the track Michael was trying his best to get to the ‘test mode’ switch. To the group’s dismay, a thick plastic panel had been installed to prevent it accidentally getting flipped by curious kids. This panel could only be opened with a key, and due to its placement Mike and Charlie were hesitant to smash it and risk damaging the mechanics underneath with their unknown strength.

“For fuck’s sake, nothing can be easy around here, can it?!” Michael groaned. He’d been cursing like the pirate fox he connected so well with under his breath, until finally giving up on trying to pry the cover open with a frustrated huff.

It was hopeless to activate the automatic driver. Charlie didn't want to pry off the lock, as the box surrounding it was too close to the control panel. Unless they wanted to be shocked or ruin the cart, it was best not to mess with it.

“Someone's going to have to drive it,” she murmured, biting the inside of her lip in thought. Before she could say anything else, Gregory hopped in the front seat. “Huh? Gregory, wait—”

“Gregory!” Michael exclaimed, although the boy was already buckling himself in. A glance across the room showed Freddy now in a physical fight with Roxy, which caused Michael’s eyes to widen. They needed to move, and they needed to move now—there was no time to fight.

“Shit!” Mike hissed in panicked frustration as he hopped in the car behind Gregory. He shoved the boy forward to make room for himself in the driver assist seat, then buckled his own seatbelt and glanced at Charlie with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, there’s no time—we’ve got to get Roxy before she takes down Freddy!”

As Gregory started the ignition and the car rumbled to life, Michael leaned forward to grip the sides of the car. Far from Freddy’s usual cold metal, his chest was warm pressed against Gregory’s back, adding the tiniest bit of comfort as Mike said in his ear: “Right is gas, left is brake—got it?”

“Don't talk, just go!” Charlie urged, trusting that as long as someone was going with Gregory, they’d be fine.

Gregory seemed to be working on autopilot, starting with the ignition and leaning back to comfortably fit himself against Michael. Maybe his silence was due in-part to seeing Freddy nearly get scratched open by Roxy's claws at the track ahead; all he knew was that he'd do whatever it took to save the bear and the rest of his friends along with him.

“Got it!” Gregory replied, smart enough to slowly accelerate as to not flood the engine. However, taking it easy was not his goal as the kart climbed quickly in MPH. They were approaching the bridge, seeing Roxy chase Freddy close to their side of the track. It was clear her goal was to either cut him to ribbons, or to push him from the bridge itself.

To Michael’s dismay, the familiar sound of a racing go-kart was simply background noise to the wolf hell-bent on tearing her bandmate to shreds. He and Gregory were almost at the bridge, and their window of opportunity grew smaller by the second. If they couldn’t get her attention soon, they’d need to drive all the way around the track… and Michael doubted Freddy could last that long by himself.

Oh, he’s going to kill me again for this…, Michael thought as he raised one hand to point at Gregory and screamed over the engine:

“ROXY! EYES ON THE REAL PRIZE, PUPPY!”

Roxy snapped towards the voice, her expression settling into focused frenzy as her gaze fell upon the boy she’d been commanded to catch. She tracked the speeding car, and Michael dared to hope that this might actually work—she was going to chase them, and once Freddy got his second wind the bear would be on her in a flash. Roxy’s knees bent in preparation to jump and Michael let out a deliriously triumphant shout—

—Which quickly devolved into a yell of terror as Roxy landed on the track in front of the car. There was no time to swerve and avoid impact so Michael curled himself around Gregory, trying to shield as much of the boy’s frail human body with his own as the car rattled towards the wolf at top speed.

Freddy could only watch in horror as his adoptive family barreled straight into Roxy, her arms outstretched as if to catch the car like it was nothing more than a toy.

There was the sickening crunch of metal crashing. The collision scratched the entirety of Roxy's body from the collarbone down to her knees, though it wasn’t enough to keep her down. Gregory screamed along with Michael, a sound filled with rage and terror—mostly rage from the fact that Roxy had actively been hunting everyone he cared about. He was done feeling like a victim in this evil plot to harvest the lives of children.

Even as their cart pushed her into an unfished portion of the track Roxy’s claws lunged furiously, trying to tear through Michael to get to Gregory. It was their lucky day that no serious scratches landed before Roxy was pinned to the wall, Mike having pulled Gregory from the kart only seconds from the grotesque crash.

Curled into his brother's arms, Gregory breathed hard from the adrenaline rush. Laying on the track, he assessed himself. When he found no major injuries, Gregory beamed with glee.

“I'm alive! We did it! Dad, Charlie—” Gregory shouted, attempting to turn in Michael's grip. “—please tell me you saw that!”

“Unfinished” was certainly one way to describe this portion of the track… Though “unstable” would be better, as the group quickly learned.

Michael’s systems barely had time to reset before he felt the ground crack beneath them. He was still holding Gregory tightly, arms clamped around him in a vice-grip as the physical aftershocks of the impact with the tarmac wracked his body. Luckily, Mike’s internal alert systems—he’d have to thank Henry profusely for including these—indicated that nothing major was damaged. He had a few scrapes that would be pretty gnarly on a human, but his false skin took the wounds with little issue.

However, Michael sensed this would soon change as the section of the track ranging from where he and Gregory lay to the wall Roxy was pinned against suddenly gave out. He, Gregory, Roxy, the car, and a whole bunch of rubble fell into the dark abyss of the employee tunnels beneath the raceway, leaving Freddy and Charlie to stare after them in frozen shock.

***

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spaceskam · 3 years

Text

a follow up to this fic

AO3

Michael liked the ring.

Of course he liked the way it made him feel, the way it's power seemed to make him feel comfortable in his own skin above all else. It was no longer a power high as much as it was like a security blanket or a favorite shirt.

The power, however, didn't escape him.

He never really had to strain before, but this was a different beast. With a thought he could read people's aura, move multiple things at once, feel around larger areas than he even knew what to do with. It was fun and felt like he could really breathe for the first time in a long time. He did his best to not rely on it too much, to make sure he didn't get too used to the power it gave him, but he couldn't help but enjoy it.

Alex was slowly but surely getting more comfortable with him wearing it as well. At first, he babied him incessantly and was so sure it was going to overload him somehow and that it was going to kill him or something. He still watched him, spent all his free time with Michael to make sure the ring wasn't effecting him negatively. Michael couldn't complain about it.

"So, this group you're working with. Do they know this exists?" Michael asked, inspecting the ring on his finger. It didn't occur to him until just then that maybe he shouldn't just leave it on his left hand like that.

"As far as I can tell, no," Alex said, sighing as he looked up from what he was working on. It was just a notebook full of crude sketches of his actual project. Michael wanted to help, but the thing couldn't leave Deep Sky and Michael couldn't go there, so he simply had to listen to Alex speak and bounce ideas off him.

It was probably the most fun he'd ever had in his entire life.

"But I'm not about to risk them trying to hunt it down before me. I need to be a step ahead, at least. I'm so fucking tired of being stupid about things," Alex said. Michael rolled his eyes.

"You're far from stupid, Alex."

"Too trusting which is a form of stupidity."

"It's not a bad thing to be trusting, it's other people's fault for taking advantage," Michael insisted.

Alex sighed and looked at him. He was so tired. He always did. Michael was never good at figuring out what to do to help that other than instigate. Maybe he could try to persuade him, but somehow that felt like a dead end.

"People are never going to stop taking advantage, so why should I remain open to being taken advantage of?"

"Okay, fine, point made. But still, I like that about you. The way you don't automatically assume people have shitty intentions. It's, like, the exact opposite of me," Michael said. A smile tugged at Alex's mouth and he let it show just a bit, leaning against the table.

"You assume everyone has bad intentions?" Alex asked, "Even me?"

Michael scoffed, his heart thrumming and the ring on his finger all but singing in delight. That was another fun thing about the ring. It always encouraged positive feelings.

"Now you know damn well–"

Without much warning, the hatch to the bunker opened and caused them to break eye contact as they both looked up. Sanders stood there looking as grumpy as ever.

"What do you want, old man?" Michael asked, only having to feign his annoyance a little bit. As much as he didn't like having his moments with Alex interrupted, it wasn't so bad when he knew he had more.

That knowing was everything.

"You and the boyfriend gettin' along now?" Sanders asked. Michael's neck felt hot and he didn't dare look at Alex. He felt like a teenager being caught all of the sudden.

"Can you not make it weird?"

"Weird for who?" Alex asked. Michael's eyes went to him, Alex's face with a small smirk and his head tilted. He looked so good. Happy. The ring was damn near vibrating with joy again his skin.

"We're talking about research," Michael responded instead. Sanders grunted.

"Sure, research."

"We are!"

"I believe that as far as I can throw you," Sanders said. Michael scratched his arm, trying to dilute the feeling building up inside him. It was overwhelming, an overdose of goodness that the ring amplified. "Right, well, I was just reminding you that Jane Garcia is still bringin' that truck in an hour and you're the only hands that have touched it in a decade, so can't have someone else doin' it for you."

"She needs to just get a new one," Michael responded, relieved to change the subject despite Alex's eyes still being on him. He couldn't say he minded that.

"You ain't got no room to talk with that thing out there," Sanders huffed. Michael grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

"I can get away with it, I know what I'm doing."

Sanders grunted in response. "Sure, kid. Just be out here when she gets here."

"Got it," Michael said, giving a thumbs up. Sanders rolled his eyes and closed the hatch, leaving him alone with Alex again.

"You can go get set up, I'm good down here," Alex said. Michael settled his gaze on him again, feeling warm and sated and really not having any intention to leave him.

However, they locked eyes for all of half a second before Alex breathed a sharp intake and stood up straight.

Michael's excitement started to leak out of him and was replaced with complete concern. He sat up straighter, his feet hitting the ground as he tried to maintain eye contact with Alex.

"What?" he said, "What happened?"

"Your eyes," Alex breathed, his eyebrows pulling together.

"Huh? What about them?" Michael asked, mindlessly reaching up to rub them. When he pulled his hands away, there wasn't anything on them.

"They're... glowing," Alex said, coming closer, "Well, they were. Went away when I said something."

Alex grabbed Michael's chin without any hesitation, tilting his head back to look at them. Michael instantly became malleable under his grip. It'd been too long to be otherwise. He let his face relax, let his body dwell in the delight it caused and let the ring sing in response.

"It was like you were lighting up from the inside or something, like you literally glowing. Just showed mostly in your eyes," Alex said, still concerned as he manuvered Michael's head this way and that to look at him in different angles. "It's because of that fucking ring."

"You think?" Michael murmured, still staring up at him. His heart thudded in his chest, his mind going wild at the tactile attention. Alex's eyes widened again.

"It's doing it again," Alex murmured, placing the back of his other hand on Michael's forehead, "You're warm. Warmer than usually. How do you feel? Maybe you should take it off before you become a fucking lamp. Do you feel alright?"

"Good," Michael said. Alex blinked, stilling his movements as he looked at him rather than the glow.

"What?"

"I feel good, Alex," he said simply. Alex swallowed and he dropped his hands from him. They were silent a beat before Alex bit the inside of his cheek, holding back whatever expression his face wanted to show. A smile, hopefully.

"You stopped glowing," Alex said. He huffed a laugh, his eyes scanning the room before landing back on Michael. "So you're a glowstick now?"

"You think it's the ring?"

"What else could it be? It amplifies your powers, right? So the longer you wear it, the more it becomes accostomed to you and how you work. So I'm sure the longer you wear it, the more it'll do. But we should definitely work on you not glowing without your permission every time you feel good," Alex said, watching him still. It was less concern now, more intrigue.

Michael wanted him to touch him again, to experiment as much as his heart desired.

"Okay, just, like, throw something at me if I start glowing," Michael said. Alex laughed.

"I'm not going to throw something at you," he said, "But I'll let you know."

"I don't think it's like an actually problem, just when I get overwhelmed. The ring had kinda helped regulate that, though," Michael said. Alex tilted his head in confusion.

"It's helped when you're overwhelmed?"

"Yeah. Like either a distraction or it's amplifying the good feelings. It's, like, stretching it's leg, you know? It's this thing that has gone untouched for so long and it's just happy to be in use. So it wants me to feel good, wants me to use it. And when I feel good, it just reacts to that and then I feel really good," Michael explained, "It's a wedding ring. It's probably used to being used in that context. Happy ever after context."

Alex breathed, his fingers twitching at his side. Michael couldn't tell if it was the ring or just his own desperation that was screaming for Alex to touch him again. He really didn't think it mattered.

"You we're glowing when I was touching you," Alex stated. Michael nodded obediently. "And you stopped whenever I stopped." Michael nodded again.

"I believe it."

"And you're just... happy?" Alex said.

"I'm spending time with you," Michael said simply, shrugging, "No fighting or tension. Just spending time and talking about research. Why the fuck would I be anything else?"

Alex watched him, taking a step forward. Even though he was already so close. Now he was close enough that Michael's thighs bracketed his legs.

"You've been different since you started wearing that thing," Alex said, fingers catching Michael's sleeve.

"I've been different since I got over my shit and got some openness between us," Michael said. Alex clearly fought a smile and lost, a grin splitting his mouth and the back of hand rubbed over Michael's arm.

"You really thing the ring has nothing to do with it?" Alex said.

Michael shrugged. "I can't say that. I know it definitely gave me a little push, but the things I'm feeling are all 100% mine."

"And what are you feeling exactly?" Alex asked, his hand trailing up into his hair. He seemed to be gravitating closer, leaning down as Michael craned up. Michael resisted the urge to just pull him into his lap at this point.

"Happy," Michael answered, "Obsessed with you. First is new, second one isn't."

Alex breathed out, swallowing hard. He looked away for a moment, but his eyes eventually came back to him.

"You can't say shit like that," Alex whispered, reprimanding him with a soft tug on the hair at the tape of his neck. Michael's lips parted. He wasn't really sure how to tell when he was glowing just yet, but he was sure that he was now.

"Why not?"

"I might get ideas," Alex said teasingly, leaning a little more. His hand was resting on his chest while the other was in his hair, Michael's hands trying not to take initiative and just grab him.

"Get them," Michael said. And Alex laughed. And it was sweet. And he was close enough to kiss.

"Michael..." Alex said, right there. His eyes flickered around his face, hovering on his lips. Michael could feel his breath on his face.

"Alex," Michael responded, finally touching him. He put his hands on the back of his thighs, urging him closer. Alex smiled wider.

"You're glowing again," Alex said, breath caressing his face. It was teasing at this point. "I wonder how bright you can get."

"Wanna test it?" Michael asked.

Alex looked at him, looking over him before he nodded.

"Yeah, I do."

Alex leaned closer, their noses bumping.

And then there was knocking on the hatch before it was opened up.

Alex moved back, flushed. Michael flexed his hand as a silent command to drain him from any residual glow. He hoped it was successful.

"You forgot how to tell time, boy?!" Sanders called down. Michael evened his breath and tried to calm down his body's natural reaction to Alex being so close.

"Yeah!" he said, "I'll be up in a second!"

Sanders grunted in response, leaving the hatch open before walking away. Michael huffed a laugh and looked to Alex who looked like he was on the verge of laughing as well. A couple second of staring and he did, both of them bubbling with laughter and excitement at being caught in such a casual way.

A normal way.

"I gotta go," Michael said, "But you can stay. Won't be too long."

"Take your time," Alex said, "I'll be here."

Michael nodded, knowing he would be.

"Alright," Michael said.

"Alright," Alex agreed.

"Alright."

*Go," Alex laughed, shooing him. Michael obeyed, heading to the ladder and all but flying up them.

Michael's heart and the ring on his finger thrummed in tandem, all singing on the high that was Alex Manes.

Alex Manes, Alex Manes, Alex Manes

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #ill put it on ao3 when i get home

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stayextrafrosty · 3 years

Text

All That I Want Is to Finally Be Honest

Summary: 3x09 coda. Michael creates a truth serum in an attempt to help Liz get information out of Jones. He has no one to test it on so he injects himself. Well, he doesn’t expect Alex to come visit. And while they’ve been talking about things more, there’s still stuff Michael needs to say.

A/N: When I say this is porn with feelings… I mean that in the most intense way. The emotions come out full force here. Title taken from the song "Back To U" by SLANDER. This was supposed to be done before 3x10 but alas.

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

“I told you, Ortecho. The serum is done but I need to test it. Are you a willing subject?” Michael said as he swirled the liquid in the beaker.

“I told you I’m busy making more of the alien suppressant. Call Isobel. She’s been itching for things to do.” Michael snorted and hung up the phone. He knew she was right. Isobel had been poking her nose into everything Michael and Liz had been working on. She offered to help but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do under the circumstances. But maybe it would be a good idea to put her under oath for a little bit.

He reached for the phone in his pocket, groaning when he saw the ‘no service’ message. This bunker was so hit or miss with it these days. He wished he could send actual thoughts to Isobel as opposed to just feelings over long distances.

Carefully setting the beaker in a holder, he stepped away from the table, wiping the sweat from his palms on his jeans. He climbed up the ladder, pushing the hatch open with his mind. The sun nearly blinded him as cool air whipped around him. He sat himself on the edge of the hole, waiting for his phone to connect again.

As soon as it did, it buzzed a few times as text messages came in. Three separate messages from Isobel spit balling theories and asking if he needed anything from her. He had tried to tell her to get some rest but she was determined to be the one to take Jones down. She had planned a date with some new girl in town but every time Michael asked about it she said there were other things to focus on.

Date.

He and Alex had made plans but of course they got interrupted. By a machine of all things. A machine that made him hallucinate Michael’s mom. Practically throwing every single doubt about them in his mind right back in his face. Alex didn’t want to tell him the full extent of the things she had said. The things he was thinking. Michael understood for the most part. He wasn’t keeping things from him to be cruel. Just the opposite. Alex was trying to protect him. Alex was always protecting him.

Michael sent a quick message back to Isobel about the serum and how he needed help testing it. The phone buzzed again in his hand and he couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. He was only thankful Sanders wasn’t around to tease him about it. Alex’s name was at the top of the new message. He tapped the notification to re-open their conversation. He wanted to pretend he didn’t spend the time rereading their conversations since Michael had kissed him. Until then, Michael had thought Alex wasn’t the type to use emojis, but they were being sprinkled throughout more messages.

‘Hope your day is going well’ followed by a blushing smiley face. Michael laughed and shook his head.

‘It would be better if I could see you’ he sent back. He started to climb back down the ladder but his phone buzzed again. He opened the message, being greeted by Alex’s small smile and half lidded eyes as he rested his head on his arm on his desk. He wasn’t fully recovered and Michael could tell. But even with the dark circles, he was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Michael had tried to get him to take a few days off but Alex was insistent. He swore that he would only work on the machine in the way they discussed from now on. And Michael was pretty sure Eduardo was now watching him.

The soft smile still made his heart flutter. This is real. They could casually send pictures of themselves and it wasn’t weird. Michael could see Alex whenever he wanted. And god he loved him. He loved him so much he could jump out of his skin every time he heard his name. There was a twitch in his fingers that told him only to touch Alex. Hold him close and never let go.

“You’re gunna fall if you keep standin’ on the ladder like that!” Michael jumped at Sanders voice. The old man had his eye brow raised and arms crossed as he stood outside of the office trailer.

“Just trying to get some fresh air,” Michael called back as a gust of cold wind whipped through the yard. Sanders shook his head and moved back into the trailer. Michael climbed down the ladder but left the cover off, hoping that would let his phone continue to get service.

He began filling syringes with the serum. His phone buzzed on the table and he briefly glanced at it to see Isobel’s response. She had found something to occupy her time apparently; investigating a lead about where the new alien had disappeared to.

Michael sighed and looked at the needles. He supposed he could just test it on himself. But if it worked properly (which it should) would Sanders really want to listen to all of the stories he had kept secret all this time?

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” he mumbled to himself. Picking up one of the syringes, he watched the green liquid shift. He slipped his flannel off his shoulders, tossing it onto the table. The black t-shirt he wore underneath didn’t do much to keep the cold from the open hatch from sinking in. He pushed a small amount of the serum out of the needle before slipping it into his arm.

“Mad scientists always test on themselves, right?” he asked nobody as he set the empty tube back on the table.

He felt nothing as he walked around the bunker, tapping a pen on the notebook in his hand. Had it really been a bust? Maybe he needed to use more of the powder. He used significantly less than Liz did in her alien killing poison but maybe he needed just a bit more to influence the prefrontal cortex.

He mumbled a curse as he made a note. He didn’t have time to remake this crap a million times. Jones was out there and who knew—

A wave of dizziness washed over him, sending him to his knees. He tried to pull himself up by grabbing the table but the room spun. He missed every attempt to grab the metal edge. Black creeped in at the edge of his vision. He let himself collapse to the floor and he rolled onto his back. Michael fought to keep his eyes open for as long as possible but the promise of sleep was too tempting.

“—rin! Guerin! Come on wake up. Don’t you dare leave me now… Michael!”

Alex’s voice was distant, like he was underwater. There was a feint pressure floating across his upper body, poking and prodding. His head radiated pain but it was slowly fading. He began to feel like he was floating as opposed to the hard surface he had been laying on. But at least feeling was starting to return to his body.

“Michael, please. I’m begging you to open your eyes. Twitch your fingers. Scrunch your nose. Anything.” Alex was louder now, as though coming from right above him. He finally oriented himself enough to recognize that his head was elevated. A trembling hand held his own, obviously trying to stop shaking by squeezing harder. Something wet dripped onto his cheek.

“Damnit, Michael!” Alex choked out a sob. Michael summoned all the energy he could and squeezed his hand. He heard Alex gasp above him and then he was squeezing back. Another hand brushed hair off his forehead and traced down the side of his face. Michael would have shuddered at the feeling of his hands but he still didn’t have much movement in his body.

Instead he swallowed and tried to make some kid of sound. Any word that would sooth Alex. He just ended up with a clipped groan. Still Alex seemed to release a sigh of relief.

“Michael. Can you hear me? Are you ok?” Michael just made another strangled sound and gave a barely there squeeze to his hand. He focused his efforts to opening his eyes instead. He wanted to see Alex.

The dim lights above him still felt too bright and everything was blurry. He could vaguely make out the form of Alex’s head bent over him. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog in front of his eyes. As his focus sharpened, he met Alex’s wide eyes. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, and a small smile found its way to his lips.

“I’m ok,” Michael managed to croak out. Then Alex was bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. Michael would have responded but he was pulling away too soon.

“Wait… do it again,” Michael mumbled. Alex shook his head.

“Let’s at least get you sitting up.” He groaned as Alex lifted his shoulders and helped him turn so he could lean against the counter. Michael noticed his position on his knees. How long had he been sitting like that with his head in his lap? It was probably uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. He moved sluggishly to grab Alex’s arm and pull him off his knees to a sitting position next to him.

“You don’t have to worry about me so much. But I love that you do.” Michael wanted to correct himself. Take back the second part. It was still too soon.

“What happened? Did someone come hurt you?” The new anger in his voice was barely contained. Michael blew extra air out of his nose in a laugh and shook his head.

“No. I stuck myself with a serum I’ve been working on for Liz. I needed a guinea pig and no other alien was around. I think I used too much of the yellow powder and knocked myself out. No big deal.” He reached over to rest a hand on Alex’s thigh and squeezed gently. “There’s no need to be angry. But the fact that you are makes me love you more.” Stop talking! He was screaming at himself.

Alex sucked in a breath and turned his face away, but Michael caught the blush that overtook his cheeks. He let himself slide to the side, resting his own head on Alex’s shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment and the fog in his head continued to clear.

“What kind of serum was it?” Alex asked quietly.

“Supposed to be a truth serum. The idea was that once we over power Jones, we stick him with it and he tells us all the secrets of the universe. How to swap Max and Jones back into their proper bodies. History of our home planet and the War. Stuff about us.” He knew that this was more information than he was asking for but he couldn’t stop talking. “Did you know I’m immune to fire? That was a hell of a discovery. Spent the better part of a day setting my hand on fire to see if it did anything. Never did. There really was an irony in you telling me that you’d burn the world down for me.”

“Michael…”

“Sure you’d burn the world but did you ever consider I would walk through fire for you? That maybe the world is already burning but it doesn’t matter because I can withstand it all. Just for you.”

Suddenly a hand was covering his mouth and Alex was staring at him so intently Michael thought he might be reading his mind. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes and his breathing was shaky, as though Michael had overwhelmed him.

“I.. think the serum works,” Alex said quietly. Michael wrapped his fingers around his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from his mouth, but not too far.

“I love you, Alex.” He pulled his hand back to his lips, pressing them to his palm. “And I should have said that to you so much earlier.”

Michael could see the way Alex fought against the smile. He breathed out a half laugh and looked anywhere except him.

“Tell me that when you haven’t drugged yourself,” Alex teased gently.

“Alex, I can’t lie.”

“I know. But I want you to tell me when you’re ready.”

Michael kissed his palm again, then moved his hand slowly down his cheek and placed it on the back of his neck. Alex slipped his fingers into his curls, nails scratching lightly at his head.

“I want to kiss you,” Michael said softly, cupping Alex’s jaw and running his thumbs over his cheeks. He let one go just far enough to press against his bottom lip, pulling it down. Alex’s lips parted as his hand threaded through Michael’s hair tightened.

“You don’t have to ask, you know,” he responded, breathless.

Michael couldn’t help the shudder that ran down his spine. He leaned forward, resting his head against Alex, just breathing in the smell of him. He brushed their lips together and Alex gasped. The small sound sent a thrill through Michael. His heart fluttered and his stomach twisted with nerves.

“I want you,” Michael mumbled.

“You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His body trembled as the words warmed every part of his body. Need settled between his legs as he rolled himself to straddle Alex’s thighs. His free hand landed on Michael’s hip as the hand in his hair tugged him closer, brushing their lips against each other again.

Michael hadn’t been this nervous about intimacy in years. This was Alex after all. They communicate with bodies and moans. It’s the way they understand each other. They always fit together so well. Filling in the cracks of each other and making something more beautiful than when they were apart.

Alex was the one who closed the distance between them, capturing Michael’s lips, stoking the fire under his skin. He moaned softly, pressing his hips against Alex.

They had kept their kisses chaste since the night at the Pony, neither wanting to rush into this before they knew where they were going. But Michael had been craving Alex for almost three years. To have him wrapped in his arms as sweat eased the movement of their bodies. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He couldn’t.

Alex tugged on his hair with one hand and his t-shirt with the other. Michael’s hands were moving down to the unbuttoned flannel. He shoved it off his shoulders to expose the white shirt underneath. Alex only released him to chuck the shirt somewhere to the side before he was grabbing at the hem of his shirt and pushing it up.

Michael separated for a moment as he gripped Alex’s shoulders, running his fingers over the collar of his shirt. He felt the cool press of metal and remembered the dog tags Alex had taken to wearing.

His mind wandered to the way they would move against Alex’s chest. The way they would intensify the feeling of Michael’s warm fingers as he traced the chain on his skin. He groaned as he also realized that it was something he couldhave.

Michael kissed Alex again, grinding down against him. He wanted to make sure he knew just how badly he wanted him. Alex shoved his hands under his shirt, fingers splayed over his stomach and then moving to his sides and eventually his back. Alex scratched him lightly as he pulled him closer, encouraging the movement of his hips more.

He shuddered and cursed against his lips. He felt like a teenager again. Like he might come undone without even getting their pants off.

“Wait,” Michael mumbled, breathless. Alex pulled away immediately, looking almost scared that he had done something wrong. Michael smiled warmly at him before crushing their lips together one last time. He only held it for a couple seconds before he was pushing himself off the floor. He grabbed Alex’s hands on the way up, using his telekinesis to help lift him to his feet also. Alex looked around, shocked in a way. Michael was a bit startled too. The pollen was supposed to suppress their powers. Maybe the amount he used was too small to have a real effect. Instead of pointing this out, Michael just chuckled and pushed Alex back against the edge of the counter, head dipping to place wet kisses over his neck.

“Come to my trailer,” he said against his throat. “If I’m going to show you just how much I love you, I’ll at least do it in a proper bed.” Alex’s head fell back as Michael’s mouth moved. But he nodded quickly.

Michael forced himself away from Alex, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the ladder. He let Alex climb out first, following closely behind. He shut the cover to the bunker with hardly a glance behind him. He flung the trailer door open next and all but shoved Alex inside, though still cautious of his leg.

Not that Alex was any more patient than he was. Alex grabbed him by his shirt, pulling their bodies flush against each other as Michael locked the door with his mind. Michael’s arms wrapped around his waist as their lips came together again. Alex whimpered as his tongue teased his lip. Michael tugged it between his teeth, groaning at the way it made Alex melt against him.

Alex’s hands dragged down his chest to the hem of his shirt again, yanking it up. They only separated for a moment as Michael finished removing the garment. Michael shoved him backwards onto his bed. He smiled down at him and watched hungrily as he rushed to undo the button on his jeans. All of this the same path they had taken three years ago. But it was different now. Neither was going to run away.

Michael crawled onto the bed, settling between Alex’s thighs as he pushed his shirt up and over his head before capturing his mouth again. They sighed against each other’s lips as their skin moved together effortlessly. The cool metal of the dog tags Alex was wearing shocked Michael, but that only made him want to press closer.

Fingers pulled at his hair and then scratched down his back until they reached the top of his jeans. Michael’s mouth fell open in a silent moan as Alex traced the hem around to the belt buckle. He fumbled with the strap for a moment before he yanked it free and immediately popped the button on his jeans.

Michael shifted back to his knees to admire the beautiful man below him. His face was red, lips swollen and wet as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes were half lidded as he ran his fingers over Michael’s abs and tried to pull him back down by the hem of his jeans. As much as he wanted to go with whatever Alex wanted, he wanted to take it slow. The temptation to just throw all their clothing off and get Alex moaning taunted him. But they could do that any time. No. Michael was determined to show him exactly what he thought of him.

He took Alex’s hands in his, threading their fingers together and pressing them down next to his head. Leaning down again, he kissed Alex slowly, only just barely running his tongue over the seem of his lips. A small whine bubbled up from Alex’s throat as his fingers squeezed Michael’s. Michael rubbed his hips against Alex and they both gasped at the friction.

“I need you,” Alex panted out. Michael hushed him gently as he trailed his lips over his jaw to his neck. Alex’s body arched against him as he sucked at his pulse point. Once he was satisfied with the mark, he moved down past his collarbone and hovered over his heart, breathing over the skin before pressing his mouth against him softly.

He slipped his hands out of Alex’s, letting his fingers just ghost over his arms. Michael continued his movement down his body, leaving small, wet kisses in his wake. His hands followed the same path through the hair on his chest as his mouth worked over his stomach to the trail of hair leading down from his belly button.

“I can never come up with the words to tell you how perfect you are,” Michael breathed against his skin. He pressed his forehead against the bottom of Alex’s ribs as he dragged his fingers down to the hem of his jeans. He felt Alex’s hands run through his hair, scratching and tugging. Michael slipped his fingers into the waistband and began pulling the fabric down.

“Michael, wait,” Alex said. He froze and looked up at him, waiting for further instructions. “Let me take off the prosthesis first.” He pushed himself up to his elbows before Michael stopped him.

“If you’ll let me, I can take it off for you.” Alex’s shoulders sagged as a small smile found it’s way to his face. He nodded slowly and took Michael’s hand, pulling it to his mouth to press a couple chaste kisses to his fingers.

Michael slipped to his knees on the floor. He rolled Alex’s pant leg up, exposing the metal and plastic. He worked quickly with Alex watching him, undoing straps and tugging gently. He set the leg to the side carefully, leaning it against the wall.

He looked back up at Alex and hoped that he didn’t blush from the soft look he was getting from him. He rolled the sock off his stump and set it to the side with the prosthesis. He watched Alex through his eye lashes as he pressed kisses to his knee.

Alex gasped softly and pushed himself up completely so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He took Michael’s face in his hands tenderly, brushing his thumbs over his cheekbones. Michael ran his hands up his legs to his waist and over his stomach. His fingers brushed against the metal of the dog tags when he got to his chest.

He dragged one hand back down to Alex’s hip. The other he let catch on the metal chain. He met Alex’s gaze as their heavy breathing mingled between them. Then Michael tugged on the chain, firmly pulling Alex down toward him.

He pushed himself up at the same time, mouths coming together with a chorus of moans and gasps. Their tongues tasted each other as Michael pushed himself up and Alex back on the bed. Alex’s hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as their bodies would allow.

Michael braced himself with one hand while the other ran down Alex’s body to the waist of his pants again. He grabbed and tugged both the jeans and underwear over his hips. Alex, lifted himself so he could bring them down to his thighs.

He pulled away from Alex to finish removing his clothes, tossing them somewhere to the side. Michael licked his lips as he took in every beautiful inch of him. The firm muscles barely hidden beneath the soft skin. He touched his thighs, the hair tickling his hands. He moved slowly up his thighs and to his hips where his hardness rested between his legs.

Michael avoided touching his cock, instead focusing on massaging everything else around it. He dug his fingers into the soft spot on his hips. Alex rolled toward his touch, sighing blissfully. And he couldn’t help himself, leaning down to press featherlight kisses to the v just below his abs. Alex made a small whimpering sound as he pulled at his own hair.

“So amazing…” Michael mumbled as he continued his line of kisses up over his abs. “Beautiful and strong…” Alex gasped out his name when his hands scratched up his sides and to his arms to hold them above his head. “You were made for me, Alex. I was made to touch you, to kiss you, to live for you, to love you.”

Michael kissed his way back up to his chest, inhaling his scent and hoping that it would be left on his own skin for days. He pressed his tongue over Alex’s nipple briefly before kissing across his chest to the other one. Alex arched his back, pressing his member against Michael’s abs and rubbing. He chuckled.

“Touching you was always the most rewarding part,” he said sweetly before running the tip of his tongue up over his chest and neck and back to his lips. He left only a few centimeters between them as he spoke, “You’re so responsive. I can’t help but want to take you apart.”

“Kiss me, Michael. Now,” Alex ordered. Michael would never deny him anything. Not unless that was the plan. It was about both of them this time. He could play with him in the future. Michael slid his mouth over Alex’s, not being able to stop the smile.

They had a future. And this was only the first of all the ways he would be allowed to love him.

Michael released Alex’s arms and ran his fingers back down his torso to his hips. He pressed the length of his body against him. Alex wrapped his arms around his neck, licking into his mouth and nipping at his lip. Michael moaned softly and rocked his hips against him.

He released Alex to push his own pants and underwear to his knees before kicking them off. He let most of his weight collapse on top of Alex, rolling his hips to rub them against each other. They moaned together as a shudder ran down Michael’s spine.

Alex untangled one of his arms to reach between them. He wrapped his hand around both of them, stroking slowly. Michel groaned into his mouth as his arms started to shake from the effort of holding himself up. He tore himself away from Alex, knowing that if he let this continue, he would finish before even getting inside him. He sat back on his knees, tracing a pattern through the hair on his chest and down to his cock.

He pushed Alex’s hand away from them gently. His panting only increased as Michael took his legs and bent them back slightly. Michael slid down his body so that his mouth hovered over Alex’s now twitching member. Every breath that brushed over him made it jump in anticipation.

He felt Alex’s hand in his hair and looked up at him through his eyelashes. His mouth hung open as his eyes begged for any sort of stimulation. A small bead of precum sat at the tip, threatening to roll down the side.

“You’re so perfect,” Michael said just before taking Alex into his mouth for the first time in years. The salty taste of him was better than he remembered as he slipped most of the way down his shaft. Alex jerked and gasped, tugging on his hair to pull him closer. Michael groaned around him, feeling the way Alex’s fingers tightened again.

Michael rubbed the back of his thighs as he bobbed his head up and down, pushing them open so he could have better access. He let his tongue tease around the head as he slipped further with every down stroke.

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex pleaded. He looked up at him to meet his eyes. He felt the shudder run through Alex’s body as he gasped and twisted his other hand into the sheets on the bed. Then Michael sank down again, taking him to the back of his throat and burying his nose in the short hair at the base.

Alex’s hips jerked up and Michael suppressed his gag reflex by gripping his thighs harder. Alex tugged his already swollen bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes fluttered closed and head fell back. Michael wanted to imprint the image of him blissed out into his brain.

He lifted his head until just the tip with in his mouth before sinking back down in one movement. Alex cried out in pleasure as his fingers pulled on Michael’s hair again. He continued the pattern a few more times before pulling off completely. Alex whined in protest. Michael chuckled and smirked up at him. Then he trailed the tip of his tongue down his length and over his balls, sucking one into his mouth briefly before moving to his ass.

Alex’s back arched again as he tried to press closer to Michael’s tongue. He mumbled something incomprehensible when he started teasing his rim. Michael shifted his hands down to his ass, spreading him open.

“Not… enough…” Alex panted out. Michael nipped at the skin of his ass lightly.

“Just be patient, darlin’,” he said sweetly before pressing a kiss to his skin. Then he pressed his tongue flat against his hole while his thumb pushed just past the rim. Alex’s hips rocked more as small moans slipped from his lips.

Michael worked his thumb in slowly, letting the tip of his tongue slip in alongside it. He pressed against Alex’s walls, urging him open. Alex groaned from above him and grabbed handfuls of his hair, yanking him back up his body to crush their mouths together. Michael didn’t exactly fight hard against it.

He kept his fingers at his hole, slipping his middle finger in and out of him teasingly. Alex bit at his lips and shoved his tongue into his mouth. It stole Michael’s breath away, feeling the desperation he poured into the kiss. He only hoped Alex could feel the same from him. He didn’t get the chance to reciprocate for long because Alex pulled away, instead pressing their foreheads together.

“Tell me you have lube,” he said, voice shaking and breathy.

“Of course.” Michael reached out with his mind to the lowest drawer under the sink. He floated the bottle toward them and dropped it on the bed. “You saying you didn’t like my attentions?” he teased with a smile.

“I liked it too much,” Alex said, brushing their lips together and rocking his hips against Michael’s fingers. “I need to feel you inside me again. To be as close to you as possible. To lose track of where I end and you begin.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face. Michael would do anything for Alex. Bend to his every whim and request.

So he removed his finger from Alex’s hole and instead wrapped his arm around his waist and the other around his back. He pulled him up so he was sitting on his thighs as Michael kneeled on the bed. Alex wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him close.

Michael kissed him again, soft and slow. He gripped Alex’s skin, digging his fingers into the muscle. Alex sighed and held him tighter in return. When he was sure he was balanced on his thighs, he reached for the bottle and flicked the cap open. Realizing he was going to need to hands, he pulled his lips away from Alex. There was a small noise of protest that Michael silenced with a quick peck.

“Hold on to me,” he breathed over his lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting go.”

He released Alex slowly as their lips slipped over each other again. Michael squeezed a small amount of lube on his fingers. He rubbed it around for a moment before finding Alex’s entrance again. Alex gasped as his fingers prodded the opening.

There was little resistance to the first finger from Michael’s earlier attention. The lube made the second finger slip in just as easily. Alex sighed his name as his hips started rocking slowly. The friction against Michael’s own cock was wholly welcome, making him moan.

Michael twisted and pressed his fingers inside him, looking for the sweet spot he knew would earn him more noises. Alex’s mouth fell open when he finally found it and he could only grin as he swallowed the moan that tumbled from his lips. He massaged his prostate. A few soft strokes followed by a firm press.

Alex’s cock twitched and throbbed against his with every movement. As much as Michael wanted to continue like this until Alex made a mess of them both, he didn’t want to wait anymore. He pulled his fingers out slowly, giving one more teasing press to the spot.

Michael grabbed the lube bottle again, pouring more onto his fingers. He snapped the lid closed and tossed it to the side, hardly registering the sound of it falling to the floor. He carefully shifted Alex back so he could cover his cock in the lube.

Once fully coated, he pulled back to rest his forehead against Alex’s. They both panted as they met each other’s eyes. Michael wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You want this?” he asked a final time. Alex just beamed at him before pulling him back in for a searing kiss.

“Yes. I need you, Michael.”

Michael could only groan in response, claiming his lips again. He lowered Alex back to the bed and he almost immediately wrapped his legs around his waist. With his free hand, Michael guided his cock to Alex’s hole. He pressed himself against the rim, slowly rolling his hips until the tip entered him.

Michael saw stars behind his eyes as he tried to keep his movements slow. The temptation to bury himself in the warmth of Alex was overwhelming. Their moans overlapped as he pushed farther in. He nearly fell forward, needing to brace himself using the arm that had been hold Alex.

“I love you, Michael,” Alex suddenly rushed out. Michael’s eyes opened to meet Alex’s. He had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on his face. His eyes were half lidded but still completely focused on Michael. “I love you,” he repeated.

His heart soared higher than ever. He never thought he would know this kind of joy. But the man wrapped in his arms was offering it so openly and completely. No extra conditions. Just all the love he could possibly give.

A tear spilled down Michael’s face as he pushed himself completely into Alex. Their mouths fell open and Alex refused to look away from him. He pulled out slightly and pushed in again, this time hearing the moans fall from his own lips.

“God, Alex…” he sighed, letting his head fall to his shoulder as he continued the steady thrusting of his hips.

Michael pressed his lips to his shoulder before sucking on the spot, massaging a mark into his skin. Alex moaned softly as his hips came up to meet Michael’s next thrust. He scratched his nails up and down Michael’s back, distracting him from his rhythm. His hips jerked forward roughly once, making them both gasp at the feeling.

He picked up his rhythm again, moving faster, starting to chase the high that comes with orgasm. Alex clenched around him, moving his own hips in time with Michael. He stopped holding back his moans, instead letting them vibrate over Alex’s skin.

He could feel Alex’s heartbeat from where their chests were pressed together. It pounded just as hard as his own. Possibly threatening to burst from how full of love it was. Alex’s moans were music to his ears. Small plea’s begging for more finally registered in his brain. And he would never deny Alex.

“I’m so close, Michael,” he whined next to his ear. Michael was on the edge too. So he pulled his head from Alex’s shoulder and kissed him again as he sped up his hips again, trying to match the racing of his heartbeat.

He had lost track of his body. He could only feel Alex wrapped around him, fitting perfectly against his skin. Michael ground his hips against Alex’s ass, breaking his even pattern in an effort to feel more of him.

After that he didn’t know what came over him. His hand was pressing to Alex’s chest as his hips only got rougher and more erratic. He could feel the heat rippling out from his hand. Alex cried out and arched against him, one of his own hands moving to cover Michael’s.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” he panted out.

“Michael!” He felt the spasm of his body against his own, then the warmth of the liquid running between them.

His own orgasm rushed up to him, no time to even consider pulling out. Not that he even wanted to. His hips thrust forward roughly, burying him inside of Alex as his cock emptied. A long moan accompanied each of his last thrusts until he was shaking from the overstimulation.

Michael collapsed against Alex, laying his head against his chest. Alex’s free hand pet his hair gently as their breathing started to even out. Michael dozed and Alex’s occasional snores let him know he wasn’t the only one. It couldn’t have been that long because the mess between them hadn’t dried.

He pulled his eyes open to see his hand placed firmly over Alex’s heart and his hand still covering Michael’s. He lifted his hand slowly and the bright pink, iridescent handprint seemed to ripple with Alex’s breathing.

“You could have warned me how intense it would be,” Alex said quietly, a light and content tone to his voice. Michael pushed himself up slightly to see his face. The sweet smile that always made his heart flutter was back and internally he sighed in relief.

“Had I known it was going to be I would have,” he said, lifting a finger brush over his cheek. “I’m sorry for the handprint. I didn’t—” Alex pulled him in and kissed him, stopping his apology.

“I’m so happy, Michael. About everything. I love you so much,” he said when he pulled away. Michael smiled at him and pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering just slightly when he pulled away.

“I love you, Alex.” Alex held his face gently with a fondness glittering in his eyes.

“I told you to wait until the serum had worn off,” he joked. The fog in his mind had completely vanished though he couldn’t quite remember when. He was still pouring his heart out to Alex but it was because he wanted to. He never wanted to hide anything from him. He never wanted to lie to him.

“It wore off already. I don’t feel the need to say everything I’m thinking,” he said, inching closer to Alex’s lips again. “But I still want to tell you everything. Because right now, all I can think about is you.”

#malex #malex fanfiction #malex fic #roswell new mexico fic #michael guerin/alex manes #michael guerin #alex manes #coda #3x09 coda

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corysmiles · 3 years

Note

The angst idea?

You know the one

Stone

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Friendly Giant AU

CW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, extremely brief mentions of blood/violence, mentions of depression(Also this can be treated as canon or not, if you want to believe a different ending that’s okay! )

Notes: sorry :) Also please read the whole content warning before going on, I hope you like it!

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Dead grass crumbled under Ranboo’s feet as he walked through the forest. The leaves from the tall pines around him shuddered and whistled under the frigid wind, but his thick fur kept him warm.

He’d go into hibernation soon, most likely in a few days, so he knew he had to make the trip then. He’d been avoiding it at all costs, but he needed to see it. At least before he went to sleep.

His breath clouded up in front of his eyes as his feet led him on the small dirt path to the graveyard. He’d been to the destination many times before…As his friends, his family, passed away they held the burials in the same place. It was a beautiful clearing he had to admit. But every time he went he could feel the dread building up in his stomach. The clearing took too much from him already, and it hurt to see the graves.

Only a few minutes into his trek, small blue and purple flowers started to pop up across the dirt. He recalled that Michael had planted the blue ones a few years after Wilbur had passed.

And the purple ones…they were added after Tubbo…

“They attract pillbees,” Michael had told him, when the pain was still fresh and his tears wouldn’t stop flowing, “He loved those.”

Ranboo felt a fresh wave of guilt crash into his heart as he realized he’d have to step through the flowers. The wild buds had completely covered the area, and while it was beautiful, to get to the the graves he would have to walk over them.

He hoped Michael wouldn’t mind too much if some of the flowers were flattened.

He winced as he felt more of the soft petals crunch under his feet, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a pair of pillbees fly past him.

“Sorry,” he whispered as the bees buzzed around his face, “I’ll be gone soon.”

He watched with amusement as one of the bugs curled up and plummeted through the air before catching itself and soaring upwards again. It’s small translucent wings glittered under the light like a tiny ball of fire.

Tubbo always loved watching them fly around.

Even near the end, when he could barely walk on his own he’d ask to see the pillbees, and Ranboo would bring him out without hesitation. Tubbo hated how helpless he felt, but Ranboo would do anything to help him.

Even as his vision failed and his memory started to falter, it always made him happy to feel their tiny bodies crawl over his hands. And he’d always smile so brightly when they fluttered around Ranboo’s face.

Ranboo wished he could see him smile like that again. Just once more, but there was nothing he could do. The closest he had to Tubbo’s face were the old chalk drawings Michael had made in the den.

And even they were starting to fade away from old age.

“Come on,” he whispered under his breath, he couldn’t put this off any more.

It wasn’t long before the graves came into view, and immediately he felt his whole body tense up. Memories of funerals and burials weighed down his heart.

The stones were all lined up in a perfect row. The farthest one on the left was already crumbling at the top, a sign of how long it had been there, while the newest one on the right sat pristine and fresh. There was still a bundle of flowers neatly tied up on top of it.

‘Probably from Michael’, his brain input.

As carefully as he could he knelt down in front of the stones and tried to keep his breathing steady. Every inhale felt like liquid fire running down his throat. And the sight of the newest grave made him feel nauseous.

He could do this. He had to.

“Hey,” he exhaled finally, “It’s been a while…”

The wind howled around his ears making them prick back from the icy cold. Tubbo always thought it was funny how his ears twitched, his mind reminded him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. And that I missed the uh…that I missed the burial,” he choked after a few moments, “I’m so sorry Tubbo.”

Slowly, he wrapped his tail around the base of the stone- it was so so small. Even near the end Tubbo had never felt that small. He was so magnetic and larger than life, it hurt knowing he was deep under the dirt.

If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine it was still Tubbo, his husband and his best friend instead of a cold lifeless stone.

“You know Michael joined the guard,” he hummed, keeping his eyes trained down at the grave, “Sam convinced him to after you passed… He’s doing great; you’d be proud of him. But you probably already know that huh? He visits more than I do.”

Ranboo willed away the tears threatening to spill as his fingers found the human-sized ring in his pocket. It perfectly matched the ring still snug around his horn, even with it being worn down from how often Ranboo rubbed it between his fingers.

“Oh and they finally found it you know…Tommy’s badge. I know you spent a long time trying to find it,” he swallowed, “Some hunters found it in a cave. Whatever killed him must have spat it back up, and Michael has it now…It’s pretty beat up but he refuses to wear any other badge.”

The mention of Tommy’s death was like a stab to his heart. He couldn’t help it as tears slid down his face and wet the ground underneath him.

Tommy’s death was brutal…and the first time he’d felt loss. But it was also the first time he’d really seen Tubbo break.

It was a few years after Phil had already retired from the guard. It was supposed to be a normal roundtrip, the ones the guard did every night, but Tommy never came back.

Later that night Techno showed up at the walls alone and covered in blood. The entire town had watched as he fell into his father’s arms, not wanting to think about what it meant. Tubbo and Wilbur didn’t find out until later, when they got back from his den the next morning.

And Ranboo didn’t know until hours after.

That night the town held a funeral, but there was no body to bury. They’d set up his stone right next to his mother’s under the tree Phil had planted years before.

The tree Ranboo now sat in front of where one by one each of the humans he loved had been buried.

“Sam said I probably have ten more years yaknow,” Ranboo stuttered out as he grazed his claw against Tubbo’s gravestone, “I feel bad for leaving Michael but…I’m happy- I’ll get to see you all again. I miss you so much.”

“Michael isn’t in the den much anymore, and it feels so empty now that you’re not there Tubbo,” he broke, “I miss you so much. I don’t know what do with myself anymore.”

He was bordering on dangerous territory as his mind sped up. He knew he needed help, and that the way he coped wasn’t healthy but he missed Tubbo so much. Sam checked on him every few days, but often he just stared at the chalk drawings of his husband and cried until he fell back asleep.

“Most of the time I can’t even get up,” he admitted sadly, “I don’t want to move because it means you won’t be there. And I know you didn’t feel good near the end but…but I want you back so badly Tubs.”

He paused to wipe away a tear that dripped down onto Tubbo’s stone, “I know it’s selfish but I want you back so badly. I love you…You meant the world to me Tubbo. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Ranboo let his head fall forward as tears streamed down his cheeks. It was unfair. He didn’t know why everyone got to pass on except for him. He wanted them back so badly.

He missed guard practices with Phil and Techno and sitting and watching Wilbur strum on his guitar. He missed Tommy running around with Michael and joking with him as he worked.

And he missed Tubbo most of all. He missed laying down with his best friend and sleeping curled up with him at night. He missed fishing while Tubbo sat on his head and told him stories. He missed Tubbo teaching Michael how to speak and draw until Michael was taller than Tubbo himself. And he missed the soft touches he received from the boy.

He missed everything about the only human who’d ever given him a chance.

With quivering lips he bent down and pressed a kiss to the cold stone. For a moment he swore it felt warm under his touch, and he could almost convince himself Tubbo was there with him.

“I love you Tubbo,” he whispered, “I’ll be back again.”

But only the wind whispered back.

The next day Ranboo went into hibernation for the first time without Tubbo, and when Michael arrived to check on him he found his father curled up around a pair of rings and a small clump of purple flowers.

#mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #angst #friendly giant au #major character death #cw major character death #g!ranboo #t!tubbo #corywrites

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jay-and-dean · 4 years

Text

Sweat and Dirt and Cum

Demon Dean x Reader

Summary : Calling Demon Dean because you miss Dean... Bad bad idea.

Warnings : SMUT (yeah you read the title), like kinda dark (it’s Deanmon !), hair pulling, Dom!Deanmon, total marking kink, mh... blood ? A hint of dirty talk and anal play ? I think that’s it. Swearing of f*cking course.

Note : This is my part of @holylulusworld‘s 11k Celebration. I know it’s a big drabble... I promised you a round 3 Lulu... I wasn’t kidding. Congratulation again.

Also this is my first Demon Dean fic.

Wordcount : 1.2k

My MASTERLIST

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Tugging at the too short dress of your angel costume, you shiver. The night is cold and, out here on that parking lot, you can barely hear the loud music playing inside of the bar so no one would hear you call.

“That was a bad idea” you mutter to yourself, licking the liquor on your lips and looking in the dark surrounding you in a mix of fear and excitement. “Bad… bad idea.”

It was the worst idea indeed.

You Miss Dean painfully, yes… But he is not himself anymore, he is not your boyfriend. He is the monster he always fought now. And he proved it when he abandoned you, like Sammy, with that stupid note : “Let me go.”

“An angel, Y/n… Really ?” a voice makes you jump and your phone falls on the floor in a cracking sound that makes you hiss.

Then your eyes eagerly search the shadows behind the reach of the pallid street light above your head. Your body is shaking and a cold drop of sweat is running down your spine.

Dean is dangerous, a trained killer with torture skills. You never really thought of it when he was human, because he was a good man, but now, he’s a knight of Hell. And you texted him your location…

“Where are you ?” you ask shakily, not knowing in which direction to talk.

A shadow moves, black on black, and his silhouette tears itself away from the dark, entering the street light.

Your body shivers, your stomach is hurting with terror, but every cell of your body is screaming for him. Your love, your obsession, everything you have been missing for the pass months.

“You didn’t invite me to your little Halloween party… Angel” he smirks with an expression on his perfect face that you never knew before.

“Why would I ?” you say, trying to swallow the tears in your trembling voice. “You left.”

“So why did you call ?” his eyes turn black.

That’s when you notice the blood on his sleeves, the blood on his shoes, fresh… Everywhere.

“Oh God…” you let out a terrified sob. “What were you doing…”

“Angel, why did you call ?” he insists, taking a few steps closer that look totally threatening.

“I don’t know” you cry, honest. “I was at that party and drank a little and…”

Now standing in front of you, he lets his hands gently go up your naked arms, and touch, with the tip of his bloody fingers, the feathers of the white wings you’re carrying in your back. You sigh at his touch, tears still rolling down your face.

You missed him so much, and you need him like crazy, so you lean on his caress, ignoring the pitch black monstrosity in his eyes.

But all of sudden, his hand fists your hair brutally, making your head go back in a pained gasp.

“Why. Did. You. Call” he groans, closer to your ear.

“I…” you sob with no more tears, but his strong arm tugs even harder at your hair, so much that it hurts your neck. “I MISS YOU !” you finally let out in a desperate scream.

“Oh I miss you too Angel” he chuckles darkly, his tongue darting out to lick at your neck. “Put your little hand on my cock and feel how much” you don’t really move. “Hand on my cock, now.”

Not able to look down because of how hard he’s holding your hair, you let your hesitant hand grab his crotch, and feel liquid fill your panties.

“On my cock, Angel, not on my jeans” he groans, biting your pulse point hard with his perfect sharp teeth.

You cry out, tugging at your own hair to get free of his cruel grip, but he won’t let go.

“Dean…” you whimper, torn, scared and needy. “Stop those games, take me please… I miss us…”

A dreadful laugh comes out of his chest.

“How fucking desperate” he mocks you, his other hand playfully spreading blood on your cleavage.

You open his belt with trembling hands, push the zipper down and slip inside of his pants, finding no underwear, only his hard cock pushing at the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Dean…” you moan, your walls clenching around nothing, again and again, begging for him.

“Make me want it, Angel” he smirks, forcing your mouth open with his bloody hand to lick inside it.

You start pumping his length, moaning at the feeling of his veins and silky skin, going down to his balls occasionally. He groans in your neck sucking a hickey somewhere it can’t be hidden.

“More” he orders as he crushes you against the cold and soot darken wall behind you.

Your neck still slightly angled back, you close your eyes, trying to ignore the blood on him and the pain in your scalp, to focus on the smell of Dean, his skin, and everything you ever loved. Your other hand joins the one working to focus on the head of his twitching cock.

“Fuck yes” he moans. “You want me that bad, you’re pathetic.”

When he lets go of your hair, you gasp in relief, the burning feeling wetting your eyes.

He turns you, crushing your face on the tiles, and once again your inner walls throb in anticipation. His hand roughly cups your sex.

“I feel you fucking clench through your panties !” his bloody fingers start rubbing from your entrance to your clit harshly, sending your craving body close to the edge already. You can feel his nails scratch the wet fabric against your swollen clit and you know you’re soaking his hand.

“Please…” you whine, panting with your face against the dirty wall.

A cold feeling on your butt makes you look back and you jump in sudden fear. The First Blade.

“Sh… I won’t kill you, Angel” he lets out with a vicious chuckle. “I want you alive…” the blade cuts your panties easily, and they fall at your ankles. “I want you to walk back in that Halloween shit” his fingers come back to your folds, spreading your wetness from your aching clit to your asshole. “And I want you to walk funny when you look for my brother” his fingers tease your entrance and you try not to think of who’s blood it is on it. “Your pretty wings and dress all bloody, skin bruised and covered in hickeys” he moves to tease your other hole, making it pulsate under his expert fingers. “All filthy with sweat and dirt and cum.”

With that, and without any other warning, he bends you more and pushes his so desired cock inside of you in a sharp and brutal thrust that makes you cry out loudly.

“W-wait…” you gasp, needing a second to adjust. “D-dean.”

His face comes closer to yours, eyes flashing black again. Your thighs shake hard as you try to delay the orgasm already threatening to crush you.

“There is no waiting” he thrusts again so hard your body bangs on the dusty wall, a feral growl makes his chest vibrate on your back. “You take me, Angel. You take me everywhere and in every ways, then you can sit in my car, dripping on the seats while Sammy drives you home.”

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FEEDBACK IS MY FUEL

(send an ask if you want to be tagged)

Tags : @parinarain @mogaruke @masterof-agony @rainflowermoon @tftumblin @deans-baby-momma @roonyxx @thefaithfulwriter @vicariouslythruspn @emeow1496 @daryldixonandfrogs @holylulusworld @cocklesbelli @sandlee44 @screenchingartisancashbailiff @donnaintx @stormchasingchick32 @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @sister-winchesters99 @neii3n @lyss-dw79 @im-a-shrub @sadwaywardkid@hopelesslydevotedtoyou1912 @slyqueenj @i-love-superhero @waywardsisterandpie @sunsetsandbooks @fangirlxwritesx67 @mrspeacem1nusone @stylesismyhubs @deanwanddamons @jawritter @peridottea91 @chelsea072498 @chocolateheart @vicmc624 @teresa-67 @jessie-michael @doctor-hp-mcu @hawkerz12 @mariaenchanted

#supernatural #Supernatural Dean Winchester #SPN #spn fic #dean winchester #deanmon #demon dean #dean x reader #spn dean x reader #dean x y/n #deanmon x reader #demon dean x reader #Smut #hair pulling #dom dean #dom demon dean #marking #pwp #jay and dean

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diavolosthots · 3 years

Text

DARK DECEPTION CHAPTER 15

READ CHAPTER 14 HERE

Warnings: choking, threats

Pairing(s): no pairs, Diavolo, Barbatos, Beelzebub, Lucifer

“Where is she?!” To say he was angry is an understatement. Two hours. He was gone for two hours and you were left in Barbatos’ care with all the doors locked. He didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to jump off the balcony, either, but apparently he was wrong, considering the doors to the balcony were open and you were gone. You couldn’t have done it alone, though, but Barbatos swore that, although Beelzebub was there, he was with him the whole time. Hell, even if Beelzebub wasn’t, he doesn’t know his way around the castle like that. It just doesn’t make sense to him. You shouldn’t have survived the fall but there was no blood anywhere so someone must have taken you. Maybe one of the guards betrayed him? Possible. Right now, Diavolo is just seething with anger though and every time he thinks someone might know something, he’s met with empty answers and another dead body lying in front of him. If Michael hadn’t distracted him… “Angels?” No… no he would sense if an angel was in the Devildom. They stand out and Michael was the only one with him.

“Damnit!” “You know, anger won’t help you think.” Beel. God, he’s such a buffoon, still eating his crab cakes as if his Queen didn’t just get kidnapped. “No offense, but you’re not helping my case, Beelzebub. Tell me again what you were doing here.” This is probably the sixteenth time Beel had to tell his story, forced to follow Barbatos and Diavolo around the Devildom in search for you, but at least he had his crab cakes. “I told you. I couldn’t stop thinking about those crab cakes from the wedding… I took all of them home the day of the wedding but I ate them all and Lucifer told me not to bother you for more.” Honestly, none of that is actually a lie. Those crab cakes were heavenly and he did inhale pretty much all of them in a matter of seconds. “I just figured since it’s been a while since then, Barbatos may have time.” And he did. Barbatos had way too much time but that was on Diavolo. He knows he can’t blame the Butler. All he told him was to keep anyone away from you and to bring food at the required meal times. That’s it. Diavolo didn’t like Barbatos to be with you for too long because although the demon never betrayed him, he just doesn’t want you to smell like anyone other than him.

A deep growl escaped Diavolo, his wings twitching behind him. It was a natural instinct to switch into his demon form the minute he was notified of your disappearance and sadly, a lot of people had to suffer because of it. “Can I go home now?” “No!” Why was he taking Beel along again? The guy was of no use. He seemed innocent and he was with Barbatos the whole time, too, “unless…. Tell me where your brothers were, Beel.” Beel stiffened slightly but kept a poker face; no way was he going to rat them out. “Probably at the house? Asmo might have gone to the spa.” Seems believable, right? “Are you sure?” Beel nodded. Of course he knew better, but not even he knew where Lucifer took you. The guy didn’t say anything, but if he had to guess, maybe back to earth? “I doubt Belphie ever left his room and you know that just as well as I do.” Diavolo knew, yes. If Belphegor ever willingly moved, everyone needed to find shelter because something is wrong. “Okay. So you were with my servant, Asmo may have been at the spa, and Belphegor was sleeping. What about the other four?”

“I’m assuming Levi was in his room, he’s just like Belphie after all.” Makes sense. Diavolo nodded, crossing his arms and motioning toward Beel to go on. “Mammon…. I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since yesterday, if I’m being honest.” So Mammon is a suspect. The thought of that demon gambling you off or something may seem ridiculous but it makes Diavolo angry and he’s digging his fingers into his skin, “next. Satan?” Beelzebub shrugged. Has he ever really known anything about Satan? “We don’t hang out a lot…. But he does make some mean ice coffee! He always puts extra whipped cream on mine and sometimes he drizzles me a heart with some choco---” “Beelzebub.” embarrassment rushed through the glutton when Barbatos called him out on his rambling and Diavolo was glaring daggers at him, putting Satan on the suspect list too. “And Lucifer.” Beel looked up, right at Diavolo, although his face was just as stern as the King’s. “I’m guessing he was in his office.” “guessing?” Beel nods, starting to glare because if it wasn’t for Diavolo, none of this would be happening in the first place, “I don’t know if you noticed but you took something from him.”

A laugh escaped the Demon Lord, but it wasn’t a laugh felt in the heart, no. It was just… insensitive. Emotionless. It was merely a sound. “He got over it.” Beel narrowed his eyes because he knew better than that, “He has been holed up, drowning himself in paperwork more than usual.” Because of you, is what Beel meant to add. Lucifer meant a lot to the guy. Lucifer helped Beel a lot and he always believed in him; he always found a way to cheer for Beel. The least Beelzebub can do is acknowledge his brother’s feelings. “He literally never leaves his office anymore, and if he does, it’s to eat a few crumbs of food. I have to finish his plate for him.” “I’m sure that’s not a real issue to you, Beelzebub.” Never. Never has Beel wanted to commit violence like he does right now. Diavolo calls Lucifer his best friend and yet he backstabbed him. He lied to him. And now he’s making fun of the guy. What a great friend he is.

But Beel knew better than to talk back. He won’t say anymore in fear of spilling something. “So Mammon and Satan are suspects, Barbatos. Remember that.” What? Beel’s eyes grew wide momentarily and he stepped up, almost getting in Diavolo’s face until Barbatos stopped him, “what? You don’t think they’d have anything to do with this?!” Diavolo looked at him, almost unimpressed, and brushed Barbatos’ hand away from between them, stepping up too until he almost bumped his horns against Beel’s head, “no one is not a suspect, Beelzebub. But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and admit that Satan was more likely it than Mammon. The latter doesn’t really have the brains to plan this out, has he?” A growl escaped Beel. Although Mammon could be stupid, and all of his brothers knew that, Beel didn’t like that Diavolo talked to him like that. His fists clenched, as did his teeth, but he’s trying to hold back. “Mammon might not be as smart as Satan, but he isn’t completely dumb, either.” “So you think he could have done it? Interesting. Didn’t think you’d rat your own brother.” What? Beel blinked in confusion, leaning back a bit. “Maybe they worked together….” Diavolo went on and that’s when Beel started to realize that the guy is stalling; he’s playing a game.

“It’s not just a coincidence that you were there during that time, Beelzebub, is it?” More confusion rushed through him and he gave Diavolo exactly that face. “What do you mean?” “Fine. I’ll play your game. You were a distraction, weren’t you?” A cold shiver ran down his spine but he kept his face of confusion as best as he could. How could Diavolo possibly know? No. He couldn’t. “You see, I thought it was odd that Michael wanted to talk to me. Granted, I needed to talk to the guy anyway and I rather not have the celestial realm on my back all the time about keeping a human. It was a conversation long overdue and desperately needed. It seemed normal enough, although I deemed his timing off. But then…. Then I come home and find my wife gone, which I’m sure you know is not just treason against myself, but also kidnapping and potential murder of the Queen, depending on what happened, and maybe an heir.” Heir? No. No way you’re pregnant. Just the thought is disgusting to him and he hopes it’s not true. “It’s too soon to tell, so maybe that charge will be off the criminal’s back.” Thank father; Beel let out a sigh of relief. Maybe stress caused you to never fall pregnant, let's hope.

“Then, you happen to be oh so conveniently there at a time that I’m not, and you’re thinking that I believe this is all a coincidence? Beelzebub, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I know everything.” Barbatos. Beel’s eyes glanced at the butler before glancing back at Diavolo, who’s smirking now. “That’s right. Truthfully, I am hurt that my dearest friend would betray me like that, but I suppose it is payback. I don’t think he would hurt her, either. After all, he does hold a soft spot for her. However, there’s still one problem.” His smirk dropped and he grabbed Beelzebub by the throat, anger radiating through him again as he spoke through clenched teeth, “Barbatos can’t see where she is. He can’t see Lucifer either, which means he protected himself. You, Beelzebub, are going to tell me exactly where they are and in return, I’ll drop all charges against you and force you to only watch one of your beloved brothers die. If you don’t, I won’t hesitate to snap your neck, but not before I rip your brothers to shreds, starting with your favorite, Belphegor.” “Drop him, Diavolo. He doesn’t know anything.” Lucifer. Beel’s eyes landed behind Diavolo to watch the guy. Black. Gold. So that’s where he went. The smirk returned to Diavolo’s lips as he dropped Beelzebub back down, turning to face his dearest friend.

“Welcome home, friend.”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #lucifer x mc #lucifer obey me #lucifer avatar of pride #obey me beelzebub #beelzebub obey me #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #swd lord diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #shall we date diavolo #obey me diavolo #barbatos obey me #shall we date barbatos #dark deception

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cloudy-leonhart · 3 years

Text

Independent Together (PART 2)

[Authors Note: it kinda took me a bit of time to write the second part, I didn’t like the first time I wrote it so I remade it lol.]

[Summary: A month had passed by since the incident, the survey corps seemed so different since then, waking up in pain, Reader woke up just in time, as the survey corps comes back from an expedition.]

Pairings: Poly!Hanji, Poly!Miche, Poly!Erwin, Poly!Levi, Poly!Nanaba x Reader.

Theme: Angst/Fluff.

TW: Swearing, Reader was in a coma, for a bit.

Recommended Song: If The World Was Ending - JP Saxe, Julia Michaels.

part 1 here!

[gif rightfully belongs to owner.]

It’s been a month. One month, you were still asleep, one month since the incident, there wasn’t a day where one of your lovers weren’t by your side, Levi held your hand and fed you food, he doesn’t consider the mixed mush food much but he fed it to you anyway, so you didn’t starve in your sleep.

Erwin came to check on you late at night, he would do his work by your bedside, holding your hand in one hand and reading his work in the other. Whenever he had the free time, he would come and visit you, he did his best to make you comfortable, even if you didn’t know it.

Nanaba and Mike used to go together until they decided they want time alone with you. Nanaba would come in every time they had meals, everyday, for a month, she had her meals with you and only you, while you laid healing, she told you stories about how amazing her day went, or how much she misses your hugs and your comforting kisses.

Mike would come and see you whenever he can, he would bring flowers that would remind him what you smelled like, he holds your hand and places soft kisses on it, he stays quiet during the whole thing, sometimes sleeping beside you. He wonders when you’ll wake up all the time, he asks the nurses for any update, whether that’s you waking up or you moving for a millisecond in your sleep.

Hanji comes almost every fifteen minutes, the nurses have to kick them out sometimes, everyday like Nanaba, they would share stories about their discoveries, it can be something as small as a new flower, or a new habit of titans, Moblit did think it was a bit weird seeing Hanji being in your room rather than doing some of their crazy experiments.

Although they have one thing in common and that’s wondering if you’ll ever wake up, no matter how many times Levi comes and feeds you or Nanaba washes you with a rag or just make sure you’re healthy, it seemed like you were never going to wake up, it scares all of them, they held their expedition as far as they could, knowing that the higher-ups would be angry at them, but they couldn’t help but be selfish for once.

The sleepless nights with the whole group, Hanji would sleep in Levi’s quarters or Erwin’s because you weren’t there to cuddle with them anymore, Levi always grabs two teacups instead of one until he realizes that you didn’t brew tea like you did for him every morning and his mood is ruined after. Erwin can’t do his work properly without reminiscing how you would give him back hugs and snuggle your face into the crook of his neck.

Mike and Nanaba would always be together because Nanaba couldn’t spend twenty minutes away from you without crying. They were trying their best to be strong and set an example for their cadets, but with every day you were unconscious, the more they break, every cadet could see it and they too, felt bad about how restless their superiors looked.

---

It was another day, you’ve been stuck in a black abyss for what seems like forever, you couldn’t open your eyes, you couldn’t move your body. You listened in your little head while every one of your lovers talked to you. You tried hard to wake up and tell them you’re okay, but you gave up and let yourself rest, maybe if you let yourself rest you’ll be able to move as soon as your body’s got the energy.

So everyday for a month, you listened to the stories of Hanji and Nanaba, you listened to Levi’s scoldings, you listened to Erwin’s pleas for advice on what to do, you listened to Mike’s quiet smooches on your hand.

You were a little bit curious on why any of your lovers were yet to come and visit you, it was uncomfortably silent, you were sure that breakfast was almost finished and Nanaba was yet to come and tell her about any stories, you felt your hand twitch, you realized your body was waking up and you tried your best, to get up as fast as you could.

“ngh..” A sound came out from your mouth, a nurse who was on shift, taking care of you looked over to her side, to see you awake and coughing, she froze for a moment before helping you sit up, seeing you struggle to get up from the frigid mattress used by the infirmary. “Miss Reader! You..You’re awake?” The nurse exclaimed, her tone sounded like she was questioning. “What..What’s going on?” You squinted your eyes, the morning light stung your eyes as a headache pounded over and over again.

You covered your eyes as the nurse checked up on your status, seeing if anything looked out of the ordinary. “I’ll bring you some breakfast, please don’t leave your bed,” She took hold of a metal bowl, rags were in it, you assumed it was used to wash you, “You haven’t left bed in a month and I’m sure your legs won’t be able to carry you after not moving a while.”

You didn’t bother to nod at the nurses warning as you laid back down, your headache to overbearing and the light stung your eyes too much, you covered your eyes with your arm, wincing at the sound of the door slamming shut.

You waited for a good thirty minutes, before a nurse came back in with a tray of food, you sat up painfully as the nurse placed the tray on your lap, greeting you goodbye and leaving the infirmary to give you privacy. You didn’t miss the tasteless soup, but the bread was edible.

You sat in your bed all morning, finishing your breakfast portion by portion, reading a book Levi left from his night shift, you were pretty bored without your lovers, you wonder how worried your lovers are, not knowing whether they’d see your happy smile again or even as such as a glance from your beautiful eyes.

A bunch of muffled hooves galloping broke you out of your thoughts, you looked out of your window, squinting for a few seconds, you recognized your lovers’ horses. You felt your heart quicken, you saw from the dirty fogged window, Hanji’s blurred face, you could tell that they seemed tired, they weren’t as bubbly as normal and that worried you.

You saw someone walk up to them, Levi you thought, his height was unfortunately the first detail you managed to identify about them. You watched as Levi helped Hanji down, you didn’t bother to continue watching as you wanted to feel your lovers’ arms around you again. You stood up from your bed, your long night-gown fell off the bed like a waterfall, following your actions, you felt your legs become wobbly, which you held onto the bedside table to stabilize yourself.

“Miss Reader! Please go back to bed, you’re still weak!” The nurse scolded, seeing you get up from bed, you looked over to the nurse with a pleading expression, “I know, just let me see them, I haven’t seen them in so long.” The nurse opened her mouth to protest before closing it and sighing, she reached a hand beside her, it emerged with a pair of crutches in her hands. “Let’s go, Miss Reader.” Her voice was motherly as she helped you on the crutches.

You quickly grabbed the crutches, you felt way better shifting your weight from foot to foot while walking out of the infirmary, your nurse beside you to give your additional support just in case. You limped as fast as you could to the nearest exit that lead to the outside of the headquarters.

You felt your heartbeat fasten with every step, you missed your lovers so much, you couldn’t fight with your excitement as you come closer and closer with the exit, you begged that they would bust into the building, as if a god answered your pleas, it opened, Eren showed himself, aside him Armin and Mikasa, who was mumbling a storm. Eren looked to the side of him to see you, frozen mid-limp.

“Reader?” He said out loud, Mikasa and Armin looked over to where Eren gazed, “Oh my god!” the trio ran towards you as you braced yourself for the impact, you felt three pairs of arms hug your body, as you winced with how tight Mikasa’s hold on you was. “Reader, the superiors was so worried about you! We thought you’d never wake up,” Armin cried out, “It was so quiet without you.” Mikasa mumbled out, a worried tone in her voice.

“I’m awake now, right? I thought you’d be relieved since there would be no one to help Hanji capture Eren for their experiments.” You laughed, which turned into coughing as the trio still looked at you worriedly. “Oi, Eren, where the fuck are you, did you forget you had cleaning du-” A familiar voice called out, you turned your head towards the voice, your eyes made contact with the cold, steel-like blue-grey eyes you fell in love with.

“Levi..” You called out, you felt tears start to form in your eyes as he just stood shocked, you were there, standing, you were blinking, breathing. You were alive. He felt overwhelmed, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, Hanji walked in after him, they looked confused as they just stared at Levi’s shocked expression. “Levi?-” Levi pushed through Hanji and stomped towards you, you felt yourself sweat out of worry, he stopped in front of you and lettng out staggered breaths, “I..was so..worried, idiot.” His voice was breathy, as he pulled you in his arms.

The sound of your crutches dropping to the floor made Hanji turn around, they too froze, they watched as you and Levi dropped to the floor with a thud. They felt themselves tear up with you, they couldn’t keep their emotions in, they yelled out, “Reader!!” They cried out, running towards you and Levi, joining into your hug. You laughed through your tears as you nuzzled yourself tighter into Levi’s and Hanji’s arms, you could smell their scents, Hanji smelt like oranges and peonies, a hint of cleaning products, probably from their lab.

Levi smelt like black tea and the smell of soap, you expected it as you scrunched up his shirt in your hand. You could feel Hanji’s tears dropping into your hair, you could feel levi’s hand tightening their grip around your hair. “We missed you so much,” Hanji’s voice was muffled, it was broken and hiccups accompanied their sentence.

“Mike! Erwin! Nanaba!” Hanji yelled out as you stayed quiet, trying your best to enjoy the embrace Levi and Hanji’s providing you. “Hanji?! What’s wrong?” Erwin’s voice called out, worry laced in his voice, getting closer. “She’s awake! Reader’s awake!” Hanji’s voice broke into joyous sobs as they continued hugging you, you half-laughed as you pulled away from Levi’s neck. You felt your tears stream down your face.

You heard the loud running of the rest of your lovers, Nanaba burst in first, she stopped at the door, panting as their eyes made contact with your teary ones. “Holy..crap. You idiot!!” Nanaba yelled out, not bothering to keep her emotions in as she sobbed, running straight for you, Levi and Hanji backed to the side to not get caught into her tackle towards you.

You let out a yelp as you and Nanaba collided and fell to the ground. She sobbed in your shouders, holding your waist tightly. You held onto her back as she shed her tears onto your night-gown, you didn’t care though, you were just happy you could hold onto Nanaba once again.

You looked up from Nanaba’s neck, you glanced at Mike and Erwin who let out a sigh of relief as they kneeled right in front of you and Nanaba, you chuckled softly, pulling Mike to the hug and urging Erwin to join.

“I’m sorry for leaving you guys for so long, you look miserable without me.” You laughed out, as they laughed with you. Armin pulled Mikasa and Eren away to give you guys a moment to reconnect and just be with each other. Erwin and Mike helped you up as Levi grabbed you crutches and held onto it. Your lovers led you to a bench and sat you down as they bombarded you with thoughts of worry and love, happiness.

“You don’t know how lonely we were without you, Reader.” Erwin sighed out, holding your hand tightly as you chuckled weakly, “lonely? I would’ve swore Hanji would’ve been able to bug you as much I did.” Hanji whined at the mention of their name, the vets knew they were supposed to be in their offices doing their work, but you were awake! How could they just greet you and go?

Nanaba let out louder and happier cries as she hugged you tighter, you smiled and patted her head, “There, there, Nanaba. I’m here now so stop crying, or you’re going to dehydrate yourself.” You scolded with a playful tone as you ran your fingers through her hair.

“We’re just,” Nanaba let out a sniffle, “we’re just really happy to see you awake again, it was so agonizing when you weren’t here to respond to me and Hanji’s stories, or when Erwin would—“ a hand covered Nanaba’s mouth, “Okay, that’s enough. I think Reader gets the point.” Erwin tried to save himself from embarrassment.

In which you did honour, by not telling them you heard all of them in your sleep.

“You better bet your ass, you’re never leaving our sights again after this.” Levi called out, leaning against the wall. You sighed softly before putting a smile on, “Reasonable.”

“We’re happy to see you awake and up again, Reader. We love you so much.” Mike kissed the top of your head, getting a slight whiff of your hair, which surprisingly smelled fine even though you haven’t taken a proper shower in a month.

You felt your cheeks heat up a small bit, you held onto Nanaba’s hand as she argued about how disgusting it was for Erwin to put his hand on her mouth, just after an expedition.

You leaned your hair onto Hanji’s shoulder before finally letting your eyes rest a bit, just enjoying your reunion with your lovers once more, finally you mumbled out,

“I love you guys too.”

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kaitycole · 3 years

Text

we meet again

Summary: Simeon promised you that you’d see each other again after you left Devildom, but that was four years ago. What happens when you finally see each other?

Pairing: Simeon x gn!reader

Word Count: 2065

Warnings: Angst to fluff

A/N: Simeon deserved better after the angst piece I wrote with him a while ago. I finally wrote it @angelprotectress

It’s been nearly four years since the exchange program and your time in Devildom ended, leaving behind friends who were more like family. Sure, you have your memories and all the goodbye gifts that you had gotten, but it just wasn’t the same as when all of you were together.

Since you left, you had seen each demon brother twice, they had come up with a rotating schedule that allowed you to see a few each year, something about not being able to all visit at once or often due to some worry of too many demons being in the human realm at any given time. The angels on the other hand, you hadn’t seen at all, apparently Michael wasn’t too keen on allowing angels to the human realm, the Lilith situation still a fresh wound up there.

While you loved seeing the brothers and Solomon when he happened to swing by, you missed the angels a lot, mainly Simeon. You knew that it wasn’t going to be possible, that someone would tell you not to, Lucifer to be exact, but before you had time to weigh out the consequences, you had fallen head over heels for an angel.

* * Things were still overwhelming, to say the least, by the time you learned that there were angels were part of the exchange program. It wasn’t like you had been expecting much, to be honest you weren’t still convinced this wasn’t a dream, but the way the dark haired, blue eyed angel took your breath away was completely unexpected.

From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable, purposely finding reasons to see one another. Your head always found his shoulder whether you were sitting or standing next to each other, one of his arms around you and whenever your hands brushed, your fingers would instantly tangle together. Half way through the exchange program, you were just a blur at House of Lamentation, spending all of your free time in Purgatory Hall and staying most nights in Simeon’s room.

A few of the demon brothers, along with Luke and Solomon, seemed to support the two of you, however Lucifer, Belphie and Diavolo didn’t seem to share that sentiment. And while none of them verbally voiced their disapproval, they didn’t have to because the disappointment filled looks did that for them.

So, when it was time for you to leave Devildom, it was a lot harder than you originally thought it would be. You had been able to hold in most of the tears that had been threatening to fall from your eyes, until you got to Luke, who gave you the warmest smile as he hugged you and by the time Simeon came up to you, you were a mess.

He pulled you into his arms, making a soft shushing sound in your ear as he gently ran his hand up and down your back. When you had calmed down a bit, he promised you that he’d see you again, that he’d wait for you which only made you cry harder and it wasn’t long before Asmo had started crying with you. Right before you left, Simeon handed you a box, telling you not to open it until you got settled back in the human realm and with one last kiss, the two of you were separated.

* * You look down at the mug in your hand, a small smile touching your lips as you read the words that are printed on the bottom of the mug: I love you. It had a companion piece, the other mug said “to the moon & back” which you found rather fitting for your current situation.

In the box Simeon had given you, it had the mug in your hands and one of the matching tea cups from the set you gifted him for his birthday. He wrote in his letter that while he hated dividing the sets, the mix and match sets fit your relationship, two pieces of a set separated. He also instructed a few different times to use either the tea cup or mug, that way you both were using them at the same time. He always thought of unique things like that, something that you instantly loved about him.

Even with the cups and shared times to use them, even with the soothing words of his letters that you now had memorized, even with that little hope that you’d see each other again, it’s still hard to get through each day. You start to wonder just how lonely you looked to your coworkers and friends, your days were strategically planned out. Not to mention that fact that you turned down every date set-up offered you even though you had no way to prove there was someone in your life. But did you have someone? It’d been four years and you’d received nothing from Simeon and every time you asked, the demon brothers told you they had barely seen since him and didn’t have a message from him either.

You place the mug on the counter, the contents had gotten cold the deeper you had gotten lost in thought. You grab your keys and phone, heading out of your apartment, taking your time to walk down the sidewalk. It’s your birthday and some small part of you was hoping that Simeon could at least surprise you just this once. You find yourself wandering into a small café, taking a seat at one of the high-top tables, sighing as you relax your shoulders.

“Is this seat taken?” “No.” Your eyes don’t look up from Simeon’s letter, sure you could recite it by memory, it was comforting to see his handwriting even if the pages were withered and the edges faded.

“That must be from someone special.”

Your head snaps up, the voice sounding a bit too familiar for you to ignore, tears start to blur your eyes as they meet a beautiful pair of blue eyes. Your voice cracks and jaw trembles, “Sim?”

“I told you that we’d see each other again, didn’t I?” He slowly walks around the table and you quickly throw your arms around him, afraid that if you hesitated for a second, he’d disappear.

He wraps his arms around you, placing a hand on the back on your head as you bury your face into the curve of his neck. Neither of you concerned with the public display or the strange looks you were getting from the other patrons. Tears fell down your cheeks when he pulled you back and he gently wiped them away, cupping your cheek with one hand as he finally got a good look at your face, smiling at you.

“Let’s go somewhere to talk, Y/N.”

You sniffle, wiping your face before nodding, quickly grabbing his hand as you pull him from the café. “My apartment isn’t too far from here.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous.” Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and you can see Simeon start to chuckle before you nudge his arm with your shoulder, rolling your eyes at him.

* * “Can you repeat that?”

You look at Simeon, trying to comprehend what he just said to you, but you were struggling. He smiles at you, sitting the mug down on the table before reaching next to him to take your hands in his.

“I’ve spoken to Michael and if he’s agreed to make me human.” He takes a deep breath, “if you’re okay with that.”

A smile twitches on your lips, almost fearful that if you let it form something will take that happiness away. You wonder if it’s selfish to tell him that you’d love the idea, to wrap yourself around him and tell him that you refuse to let him ever leave you again. “Simeon, that’s…are you sure?”

He squeezes your hands, his brilliant smile on his face. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

The warmth that filled you lasted only moments before you started to panic and Simeon immediately asked you what was wrong. “I’m going to need another job! We can’t live here for long, it’s too small. I need to make a list of things to buy,” you go to stand up, lost in the tunnel vision of your own thoughts when Simeon gently grabs your wrist and pulls you back.

“You wound me, Y/N.” He chuckles, “I am a famous writer, you know?”

You freeze, a cooked apologetic smile covers your lips as you let him pull you onto his lap. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, finally letting yourself take in his presence. It’s when his arms pull you even closer to his chest that you relax, the fear that he’ll vanish completely dissipates.

* * The next few weeks were a whirlwind to say the least, but it was completely worth it. You finally used up a few vacation days you had accumulated at work and each day started and ended in Simeon’s loving arms.

For someone who had only been an angel for as long as Simeon had been, he quickly seemed to pick up on the everyday mundaneness that being a human came with. Grocery shopping had been one of your favorite things, the almost horror on his face as you placed instant mashed potatoes and canned tuna in the cart. When he asked why you hadn’t just gotten a bag of potatoes and fresh tuna, he almost fainted when you just smiled and said, “it’s easier.”

After he had the displeasure of tasting the “mashed potatoes” he waited until the next morning to completely redo the kitchen, only having the best and fresh ingredients in it. When you asked who would have time to always cook, he simply told you that he would seeing as to how as an author he could just work from home.

The two of you had developed a seemingly perfect schedule, Simeon did most of his writing in the early morning which correlated well with your work shifts and you made sure to always have meals together. Your life together meshed well, but it still ate away at you just how much Simeon left behind for you.

“Do you miss it?”

“Hmm?” The both of you are in bed, his attention on the book he’s been reading.

“The Celestial Realm. Being an angel. Do you miss it?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, placing his bookmark in between the pages before closing the book and turning to you. “Sometimes, sure,” he cups your cheek, turning your face to look at him, “but I’d pick being with you over being an angel every time.”

* * “Sim?”

There’s brief worry as you roll over, your hand reaching out to the empty side of the bed, feeling the barely warm sheet. You shoot up, eyes widened in panic as you frantically look around the room, a hand touching your forehead to wonder if maybe these last few weeks had all been a fever dream. Afraid that the previous night’s conversation had caused Simeon to rethink his decision to leave the life of an angel and being just an average human.

“Simeon!”

“Yes?”

You quickly look towards the doorway where you see a smiling Simeon, carefully carrying your coffee mug along with the matching one he’s had the last four years. Relief fills your lungs as your breathing finally levels and it takes all you can not to pounce him right then. To wrap your arms around him and just force him to stay in bed with you all day.

He sits your mug on your end table before walking to the other side of the bed, placing his mug on that end table. He climbs back into bed, pulling you back towards him, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“I thought you left.” You sink into his touch, once again letting his presence dissolve any tension you felt. Tears prick your eyes, the last time you left Simeon had been extremely had for you, but you didn’t know what life without him would be like. Now that you did, now that you had lived four years without him, having him in front of you made you realize that life without him a second time would be almost impossible.

“I’m never leaving you again, I promise.”

obey me masterlist

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pastelwitchling · 3 years

Text

For Forever (2/2)

read on ao3

***

When Max had walked into the sheriff’s station to find Michael behind a cell, Michael had fully expected the resigned sigh.

“Seriously?” he asked. “I thought you were done with this.”

“Long got in my way.”

Max faltered. “Michael, tell me you didn’t actually throw Forrest into a window.”

Michael’s eye twitched at the idea, and the corner of his lips tugged upward in a smirk. “No,” he said, and Max’s shoulders slumped. “No, but his cousin is just as much fun to toss over a pool table.”

Max leaned against a desk, his arms crossed. A moment of silence, then, “You want to talk about it?”

“I was having a drink and he bumped into me,” Michael shrugged a shoulder. “Not much to talk about.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Max said quietly.

Michael’s smirk turned smaller. He knew exactly what his brother meant. Didn’t mean he had to answer.

“You look worse than yesterday, did you see Alex or something?”

Michael’s heart gave a traitorous thump in his chest at the mere mention of Alex’s name. “Saw him. We chatted.”

Max looked concerned. “About what?”

“Why does it matter?”

Max leveled him with his dark eyes. “About what, Michael?”

Michael swallowed, and sniffed, looking away. It seemed different now, talking to Max. Ever since he’d almost lost him, he realized how badly he’d needed him. He was good at that; being the genius when it was too late for it to matter anymore.

“He ended things.”

Max’s brows pinched together. “I – I’m confused, doesn’t that happen a lot between you guys? Just go see him again and tell him –”

“No,” Michael said, more edge in his voice than he’d intended. He dialed it back. “No. He ended everything. Says he can’t trust me after Maria, says he knows he’s just my – my backup, and he’s fine with it! He’s happy, even! Relieved!Isn’t that great? Now there’s nothing holding him back from following Forrest to New York or Europe, or wherever gay emo poets go to be at one with the earth or whatever.”

Max said nothing for a moment. Then, “So he’s just done.”

Michael nodded once, a lump in his throat. “He’s just done.”

Max tilted his head. “Are you?”

“What?”

He stood. “Alex always fought like hell for you, even when you didn’t deserve it.”

“I get it, okay?” Michael said through grit teeth, his eyes burning. “I’m no good for him. He’s better off without me.”

“No,” Max said fiercely, coming up to the bars. “Not even close, brother. You broke Alex’s heart, you have to fix it. He’s done his fighting, now it’s your turn.”

Michael shook his head. “He doesn’t want me around.”

“He thinks he’s your second choice, right?” Max said. “That’s what he doesn’t want. Look –” he crouched down so that he and Michael, who was slumped against the bench, were on the same eye level. “You love him, don’t you?”

“More than anything,” Michael said without hesitation. Max chuckled, like the answer was obvious.

“Then show him,” he said. “Tell him every minute. Don’t let Forrest take him away from you.”

Michael swallowed, and tried for a light tone that he didn’t feel, “You’re saying I shouldthrow him out the window?”

Max sighed, raising a brow at him. “Did Wyatt Long even hit you?”

“Sure,” Michael grinned. “Rednecks really don’t like it when you imply they’re sleeping with their tractor buddies.”

Michael felt ridiculous. Max had bailed him out of his cell no more than two hours ago, and he was sure that this bordered on stalking and would land him back in one. He couldn’t help it.

He’d just barely gone back to his trailer to get a quick shower, and he’d gotten a text from Isobel. She must have spoken to Max, because the whole message had consisted of a single picture of Alex’s profile as he leaned against the counter at the Crashdown, clearly unaware his photo was being taken, and the words; This is your chance, he’s alone.

Michael had never driven so dangerously. He’d parked in front of the diner, and paused. He thought he’d imagined it in the picture Isobel had sent, but it had been clear to him, even through the glass, that Alex was tired.

He was leaning too heavily on his left leg, as if just touching the ground with his other side pained him. His fingers were rubbing into his thigh, and his smile was tight until he sat down, his eyes fluttering with no small amount of relief.

Michael couldn’t find it in him to go inside, watching Alex carefully from the outside, considering the way he seemed too tired to even eat. Michael wondered if he would be welcome to sit beside Alex now, to hold him and take care of him like he wanted to.

Then a hand tapped his shoulder, and he looked over his shoulder to find a very unimpressed Isobel.

“Are you kidding me?” she greeted. “He is ten feet away from you, just go up to him.”

Michael swatted at her peering over his shoulder like she was a fly. “You don’t get it,” he told her, returning his gaze to Alex. “Something’s wrong with him.”

She flicked his ear.

“Ow, Isobel!”

“Then go ask him!” she demanded. “Be his knight in shining armor!”

“I can’t just ask –”

“Would you have done it if it was DeLuca?” she said, and Michael felt as if she’d just shot him.

“That’s different,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That’s –”

“Yeah, I know,” Isobel rolled her eyes. “Lower stakes. Thing is, little brother –”

“We’re all the same age,” Michael said.

“—The higher the stakes, the more you have to risk,” she went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Do you want him back or not?”

Michael clenched his jaw. “Don’t ask me that. You know what the answer is.”

Isobel’s eyes softened. “Then go get him. While you still have him alone. Or do you plan to wait until Forrest shows up and does your job?”

Michael swallowed and looked back at Alex. He had his cheek rested on his palm, his brows pinched as if uncomfortable. Michael tilted his hat down and exhaled slowly as he forced one foot in front of the other.

He didn’t check to see Isobel’s reaction as he opened the diner door and stood a moment, staring at Alex in his booth, seemingly completely inattentive to whoever had just walked in. When Michael sat down across from him, he realized why.

“Took you long enough,” Alex said first. “I thought you would spend the rest of the day watching me from behind your truck.”

Michael ducked his head, his tongue in his cheek. “So you knew. Of course you knew. There’s usually not much you don’t.”

Alex slumped further down in his seat, rubbing his eyes as his milkshake sat untouched. “Not today, Guerin, okay? I get it, you’re very macho, you don’t need anybody, good for you. I just can’t deal with it right now.”

Michael’s smirk turned pursed. Was this really what Alex thought he would say? Some line about how much better off he was now that they weren’t together? Had he expected Michael to give up on them this quickly? The thought almost broke Michael’s heart.

“Does it hurt?” he asked instead of all of that. “Your leg.”

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

Michael scoffed, his smirk bitter. “But you’ll tell Long, right?”

“Forrest is signing some papers at the hospital,” Alex said coldly, “because apparently, someone put Wyatt in a neck brace.”

“Damn,” Michael didn’t back down under Alex’s glare. “Was that all? I could’ve sworn I broke a rib or two.”

Alex leaned forward. “You didn’t have to start something with him, Guerin. I don’t like Wyatt Long any more than you do, but you walked into that fight.”

Michael huffed a hollow chuckle. “Yeah? That what you think?”

“No,” Alex said angrily, all pretense of indifference gone. “What I think is that you are just upset that you want something you can’t have. If I wasn’t with Forrest, the only injury his cousin would be suffering right now would be a hangover.”

“So you care this much about Wyatt Long?”

“I don’t give a crap about Wyatt, I care about you!” he snapped, and Michael fell silent, his smirk fallen away.

Some people had looked over, and Alex ran a trembling hand through his hair. When he spoke again, his words were quiet, all the frustration and fury and fear evident in the way even his voice shook. “You were so pissed off that I wanted someone else that you went and picked a fight with the town nutjob!” He shook his head. “Is that what it’ll take to keep you safe now? Stay with you until you get tired of me?”

Michael flinched. “Don’t – don’t say that –”

“Why not?” he demanded. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? You only want me around when I keep my mouth shut, when nothing is serious. As soon as I try to get close to you, you go running off to someone else. That’s what you want to force me into?”

“You love me,” Michael said, finding his voice. “If I never know anything else, I’ll always know that. You love me, Alex, and I love you, and we’re supposed to be together.”

“I already told you,” Alex said through grit teeth. “I don’t believe a word you say.”

He pushed himself up and out of the booth. Michael’s hands curled to fists, and Alex got as far as the counter before Michael was out of his seat.

He turned Alex around by the arm and pinned him against the counter, startling both Alex and a waitress.

“You’re mine,” he growled. “You’ve always been mine.” He raised a hand, gently tracing Alex’s jaw with his fingers, following raptly with his eyes. Alex’s weight, Michael made sure, wasn’t on his bad leg.

“Ever since we were seventeen,” he murmured. “In the decade that came after that. And in the next decade, and the next one, you’re mine, Alex. So you want to date Forrest Long? Go right ahead. Because I’m coming back for you, Private, and I’m going to spend every waking second making up for my stupid mistake. I can’t be you. I can’t be the knight in shining armor you were. I can’t pretend I’m not so in love with you that it feels like it’ll kill me, and I’m sorry I can’t do it, baby. I wish I was as strong as you, but I’m not.”

Alex searched Michael’s face with wide, glassy eyes. “I –”

Michael leaned in, doing what he’d needed to do since the gala, and pressed his nose to Alex’s soft hair, breathing him in. When he spoke, his lips brushed the shell of Alex’s ear, eliciting a soft gasp that had Michael tightening his grip on Alex’s waist until there was no space between their bodies at all.

“I love you, baby,” he breathed. “I’ll get you back, I promise.”

He leaned back, his heart feeling like it was racing a million miles a second as he cupped Alex’s jaw and brushed his cheek with his thumb. He pressed their foreheads together, and took one last deep breath that he knew would have to last him until the next time they saw each other.

“Go home,” Michael murmured into the space between their lips. “Take the prosthetic off and get some rest.”

He brushed away Alex’s tear and forced himself to let go. Without waiting for Alex’s reaction, Michael turned and left the Crashdown, well aware that there were a few eyes on him, but he couldn’t stop moving. He had to prove what Alex meant to him, what he’d always meant to him. He had work to do.

***

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

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The Crocodile's Dilemma: In Which Helen exploits Michael's Labor, Michael suffers an un-identity crisis, and unpaid internships should be illegal

It’s tough being a teenage embodiment of the Spiral. Your boss/wine aunt figure Helen’s a Tory, your inattentive cousin figure Mike Crew keeps attending philosophy classes and day drinking, and you’re pretty sure that this internship doesn’t have any dental. At least it’s good job experience for your future career in...being evil? But do you even want to be evil?

This small story is technically part of my Roleswap AU, but I specifically wrote it so that no knowledge is required. Still, if you’re wondering why Michael’s an eighteen(ish) year old, Mike Crew’s an Avatar of the Spiral, and everybody is obsessed with Melanie King, check it out. Still, no need. Rest under the cut.

Maybe Helen was right.

Not that Helen was ever strictly right, much as Helen was never wrong, but Michael just had to be doing this whole fear demon thing incorrectly. If someone had explained the whole fear demon thing to them two years ago (“Okay, so it’s like you’re the semi-sentient appendage of an extradimensional force of evil that has to consume trauma relentlessly in order to propagate its own debatable existence, also you’re nonbinary now, no those things are not strictly related, probably”), then they would have called them crazy. Which, of course, they were, but that wasn’t the point. So long as the point existed. So long as anything -

An essential theorem within quantum physics was the quantum Zeno effect.

Simply put, it was the fact that a quantum state would decay if left alone, but does not decay under continuous observation. Even observing the results after the photon is produced leads to collapsing the wave function and loading a back-history as shown by delayed choice quantum eraser. If something was seen, it no longer existed; if something persisted unperceived, it would exist as long as it liked.

So it was explained to Michael by the physics professor he was torturing that day. Michael had trapped the man in the physics building of his university, lured in by one too many late nights in his office and the persistent sense that his life was going nowhere meaningful. After a few classes spent sitting in on his Physics 101 class, maintaining constant and forever eye contact, Michael had eventually tricked the man into giving a persistent and ongoing physics lecture to an empty classroom, desperately trying to explain the inexplicable to a college freshman who did not care. Truly miserable, yet ultimately harmless - Michael’s favorite kind of trick.

But, despite themself, Michael grew interested. They didn’t understand any of what the man was talking about, but that was all of the fun. Understanding ruined the magic of things; broke down the beauty of the universe into cogs and gears. No thanks. They could tell that it bothered the professor, that he said so much and yet knew nothing. That there was so much he would never know, and that he wasn’t so smart after all. How would any of his colleagues respect him?

“So photons degrade if they’re observed?” Michael asked one day, after...some period of time. They had raised their hand and everything, they were so proud of themself. Uni was just like secondary school after all. “Is that true of people too?”

The professor had sweated, deeply uncomfortable with Michael as a person and as a non-euclidean concept. “No - no, not at all. Humans are much more than photons -”

Michael grinned. It wasn’t quite right. “Are you sure?”

The professor sweated harder. “I - no, I’m not. But humans are constantly observed by - by the universe, or something.”

Michael grinned sharper. “Are you sure? Are you being observed right now? Are you sure?”

And the professor was not sure, not anymore, and the fragment of this man’s reality collapsed.

Well, Michael thought to themself, slipping out of an improbable yellow door, that’s another Statement for the Magnus Institute. Not that they would read it.

****

“Now, remember this - the first step to being a successful Avatar is presentation!”

Michael squinted at Helen dubiously. “I thought we were fear demons?”

Helen sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with two sharp knife fingers. It looked as if it hurt quite a bit, but Michael reasoned that they had probably gone through the fifth dimension. “This is the stupidest dimension - fine, fine! Fear demons, then. It is absolutely vital that we conduct our business with style, grace, and the slightest sprinkling of pizazz!”

Just for the flourish, Helen twirled her fingers, and a faint shower of confetti came raining down from the ceiling. Michael sneezed.

“I thought it was vital that we harvest fear and trauma from people to propagate our cursed existence,” Michael said.

Helen’s eyebrow twitched. “More than two things can be vital, Michael. Please pay attention. Now, as a demonstration, I’d like you to take a gander at that man over there.”

Obediently, Michael looked across the bar. They were sitting on barstools in a high-class pub, because Helen knew her worth and never settled for anything less, with glass counters and lots of private booths. But all pubs had their sad men drinking alone, and this one was no exception.

This man wasn’t sullen and slow like a lot of them. He was wearing a nice suit and thin tie, looking straight out of Canary Wharf. Michael silently agreed with Helen’s choice - they took eat the rich very seriously, and also literally. He also seemed a little jumped up on something, with shaking hands and erratic eyes.

“He looks happy,” Michael observed. “Think it’s his birthday?”

“He’s on cocaine, Michael,” Helen said flatly. “Cocaine. We are at a posh bar, and he is currently doing a line off his watch.”

Oh! Michael suddenly felt very uncool. They had never been one of those people in secondary school who did cocaine. They hadn’t been cool. “I knew that,” Michael bluffed. “What are we going to do to him?”

“Take the teenager as your intern, they said,” Helen groused, “it’s investing in the future, they said, it’ll stop them from eating you when they grow up, they said.” She sighed, jabbing a finger at the now very obviously coked up man who was staring at the bottles behind the bartender as if they were whispering secrets of the universe into his ear. Helen liked that one. “Use your intuition. Find a good angle to squeeze. What are his weaknesses to exploit?”

Oh, Michael knew how to do this. They shifted vibrations just a bit, dropping out of what Michael liked to call the ‘mild’ spectrum into the ‘spicy’ spectrum. They were distantly aware of a patron’s glass shattering.

They squinted at the man, picking out his little fears and insecurities like Dionysus picking grapes. Maybe. Michael had gotten a C in English, but they were somewhat cognizant of the Spiral munching heavily on Bacchanalia. Sometimes they felt like some of those children who spoke in tongues and claimed to be from a past life. That had also been the Spiral.

“He owns a Nintendo NES,” Michael said confidently, absolutely sure that this was important. Helen groaned. “His house is painted white, and his girlfriend does tax fraud.”

“Something relevant?” Helen hinted desperately.

Michael just squinted at her. “Relevant to what?”

“...good point. But something useful, please.”

Picky. Michael scowled, but gave the man another good gander. “He only remembers faint details of his father’s face, and he worries that his recollections aren’t accurate,” Michael proclaimed finally.

Helen clapped, delighted, as Michael took a careful sip of their water, turning it into fizzy water. She took a sip of her own wine, turning it into champagne. Or maybe just sparkling unreality? “Wonderful. Now, how should we play this? Insert a false father into his life, completely separate from his recollections, or is that a bit too Stranger? I suppose we could do some good old-fashioned gaslighting, but sometimes that’s just a bit too Melanie, if you catch my drift -”

“Are you jealous that the Archive girls are better at gaslighting than you are?”

“Shut it, kid,” Helen hissed, before taking a long drag of her champagne. “My vote is that we convince him to top off his coke bender with some LSD. Then he hallucinates - oh, he hallucinates that he’s in a mental institution, that’s a good one -”

“Why don’t we shift everything thirty cm to the right?” Michael asked brightly.

Helen squinted at them. They beamed back.

“You are so bad at this,” Helen said.

Michael would have felt crushed if Helen didn’t express this sentiment roughly once per lunar cycle, contrariwise. As it was, they bore the criticism with a stiff upper lip. Helen had her way of harvesting fear from unsuspecting humans, and Michael had theirs. “Look, Helen, you’re being uncreative! We don’t have to traumatize people every single time.”

Helen squinted further. “We’re personifications of deceit. We eat trauma.”

“No, we eat confusion,” Michael pointed out patiently. “Look at it this way. If you give someone one really terrible experience, then they repress it for the rest of their lives and consider it a brush with Hell. One and done, see? But if you minorly inconvenience them for a really long time, then they’ll never be able to break out of it. They’ll feel as if something’s wrong, but they’ll never know it. You can keep the game going for years that way!”

The idea was very good. Michael had been working on it for a while. Truth be told, Michael felt bad traumatizing people outright and making them scream and cry and everything. They always felt as if they were doing something wrong by making other people’s existences a living nightmare. Michael much preferred rigging a corn maze so you were stuck in it for days inside the maze but only an hour outside. It was funner, and much more confusing.

But Helen just pursed her lips and stared Michael up and down, making them squirm awkwardly on their barstool. Finally, as if she was delivering a life sentence, she imperiously said, “Well, we all have our different styles, I suppose! It would be quite boring if we were both exactly the same.” Michael nodded vigorously at this, and Helen held up a scaly claw. “But! You’re my intern, which means that you’re learning from the master here. So shut up and let me teach you how to ruin lives.”

“Yes, boss,” Michael said miserably.

Helen tsked, but she patted them on the head anyway. It tasted like batteries. “Honestly, kid. A literal bleeding heart’s fun for the whole family, but a metaphorical bleeding heart will get you nowhere in life. You can’t exist as you are and feel bad for them. It ruins the point. It’s a paradox.”

“I thought we liked paradoxes, though?”

Helen shrugged, downing the rest of her wine. “Rules for thee but not for me, honey. But I’m a good boss and drunken aunt figure, so I’ll appease you today. Now come on, let’s convince this bar to vote for Brexit.”

They did. It was quite fun after all, tricking a roomful of people into doing something actively against their own interests. But something about the whole thing left a strange taste in Michael’s mouth: not the good kind of strange, or the bad kind of strange that was also good. Just strange, and undeniable, and something that couldn’t be exploited at all.

****

Maybe Helen was right.

Michael was a bad fear demon of the Spiral and Infinite Twisting and That Is Not What It Is and The Twisted Door, etc, etc, All Fear Its Name, etc etc all Hail, because they didn’t always like how their internal monologue could no longer be described through common language. Words and images and understandings were nothing but approximations for Michael now, and sometimes it was frustrating existing outside the boundaries of understanding. Which, of course, was the point, so long as the point existed, so long as anything existed -

It wasn’t always easy. Still, nobody ever got what they wanted if they weren’t willing to put the effort in. The adult world and labouring under capitalism wasn’t easy for anybody. That was what Mum had always said. Who was Michael to complain about their 9-5? Or 24/24? Or infinite/infinite? Or nothing/nothing? Or -

Was it too much to ask to have a linear thought once in a while?

Helen wouldn’t understand. There were only two other approximations of concepts that Michael knew, and Helen would hardly be any help. The other “person” would probably be a better sounding board, but there was the fact that he was kind of pretentious. Still, it was better than nothing. Well, it was nothing, but only in the sense that everything was - argh!

A yellow door appeared in a nondescript basement, and Michael appeared with it. They melted out of the “wood”, taking a second to check their outfit for this apparition - a nice vintage 50s dress with a painstaking stitch that reminded one of the oppressive nature of housewifery, nice. They elongated their curly blonde hair from a roguish mop into a nice little shag and melted into the crowd.

It must have been a passing period, because Michael was buffeted to and fro by tall white men wearing backpacks and shorter white girls hoisting strangely identical water bottles. Somewhere Northern, Michael decided, likely private and small. Not that it strictly mattered, but it helped to solidify their grip in reality a bit if they had some idea. They already knew geography was purposeless and a distraction from the real issues, like shrimp, but occasionally it could be useful. Helen had been careful to impart the central tenet of existence as a non-euclidean concept in undefinable space in the twenty seventh dimension: location, location, location!

It was obviously the Philosophy Department, because all philosophy classes were held in old basements built in the ‘60s in identical hallways. For kicks, Michael turned all of the school hallways inwards and sent them in a mobius strip, and changed all of the door numbers into a headache. The key to enjoying your job was to take initiative in the workplace environment and to just have fun with it!

Michael found themselves in front of a door identical to all of the others, with fake laminated wood, and they decided to go in. The universe had guided them to this door for a reason, and who were they to reject its call?

The small classroom was like most other small, private colleges in unpopular departments that nobody cared about. Lots of single person desks - Michael snapped their fingers and turned them all into left-handed desks - complete with a smartboard and a teacher’s podium. It was already half-full, so Michael carefully slid into a chair in the back and pretended that they had been there all along. A student wandered close, convinced that this was her seat, but Michael successfully convinced her that a different seat near the front was hers, prompting an impromptu game of musical chairs that sent ripples through the otherwise sedate classroom.

There was a blond student already sitting in the front, flipping through a spiral notebook and clicking a pen in no particular pattern. He was wearing a pea coat, jeans, and his hair was weirdly perfect. Michael wished they had a notebook. Was this what you did in university? They had never had the opportunity to go.

Actually, they had never quite graduated secondary - three months away from graduation, actually. It probably wasn’t all that important. You didn’t really need a diploma to become a trauma eating fear demon. Was there a university of eating fear? That would be funny. What would the classes be in, ‘Enforcing the Powerlessness of Capitalism 101’? What was the difference between that and a Business major?

Maybe Business majors were the real fear demons, Michael thought grandly. It was a good thought, they would have to remember to tell it to Melanie later. Melanie would approve. Hadn’t Tim been a business major? Yeah, in that case she would definitely approve.

The student sitting in the front seemed to have finally noticed the game of musical chairs, and as the professor started clearing their throat and announcing something unimportant to the class, he turned around to find Michael sitting in the back of the class. They waved cheerfully. The student scowled.

‘What are you doing here!’, the guy mouthed angrily.

‘Hi Mike!’ Michael mouthed back.

‘Go away!’ Mike mouthed back.

‘But I’m going to eat your teacher :(‘ Michael mouthed back. They didn’t actually frown.

‘ >:(!’, Mike Crew mouthed back, also without changing his facial expression.

This was probably why Mike wasn’t Michael’s biggest fan. Which was a pity, because Michael thought Mike was really cool. He had the coolest name, for one. But shorter, and snappier. Mike was the kind of name girls would call you at clubs. Michael was what, like, your Mum would say as she yelled at you to clean up your room before her book club girls came over. Why were they girls? They were, like, fifty.

Mike Crew was an Avatar of the Spiral completely unwillingly. Chosen as a child and chased throughout his life by an improbably long lasting Lichtenberg scar, he had eventually succumbed to the inevitable and transformed into an even more improbable man. Personally, Michael found it strange that ‘inevitable’ and ‘Spiral’ was in the same sentence, but - well, it had to be everything at one point. Even a melting clock was right once an endless twilight.

Strangest of all, Mike Crew was a philosophy major. The class, of course, was a high level philosophy course. Mike Crew had been in uni - well, a while - and he tended not to waste his time with the boring shit anymore. Michael listened with interest as the professor dived into the lecture.

Two minutes in, Mike subtly gathered his things and slipped into the conveniently empty chair next to Michael. He was still glaring at them, as Michael tried their best to look innocent and cute. The effect was a little ruined by the inherent maliciousness of Michael’s pores, but they liked to think it was the thought that counted.

“To continue our conversation on the topic of paradoxes,” the professor began, “I’d like to introduce a few thought experiments for your consideration as a class. I’ll mention the concept, and then allow you to break into pairs to discuss them.”

Mike leaned into Michael’s ear. “We were discussing Descartes!”

“But isn’t this more interesting?” Michael asked.

“If you give my professor a mental breakdown we’re going to fall behind on the syllabus!”

“The first paradox I’d like to bring to your attention is the Crocodile’s Dilemma.” The professor flipped to a new slide, which helpfully had a big crocodile on it. Michael admired it. They had seen a crocodile at the zoo once. “Similar to the liar’s paradox, the premise states that a crocodile, who has stolen a child, promises the parent that his or her child will be returned if and only if he or she correctly predicts what the crocodile will do next. The outcome is fairly obvious if the parent states that the crocodile will return the child, but the crocodile faces a dilemma if the parent states that the crocodile will not return the child. No matter the outcome, the crocodile is made a liar: if the crocodile decides to not give back the child then the statement proves to be true, and he ought to return the child, thereby making it false. Whatever the outcome, he still violates his terms.”

Michael raised their hand. Mike forcibly lowered their hand.

“If I give your professor a mental breakdown then you’ll have extra time for the test,” Michael whispered back. Mike seriously considered this notion.

“The next paradox is slightly related,” the professor continued. “The Infinite Hotel Paradox.” Michael’s face stretched into a grin as Mike Crew groaned. “It is demonstrated that a fully occupied hotel with infinitely many rooms may still accommodate additional guests, even infinitely many of them, and this process may be repeated infinitely often. This is what we call a veridical paradox: it leads to a counter-intuitive result that is provably true. Therefore -”

“Okay, yeah,” Mike Crew said, slumping in his seat. “You can eat him, this guy is just begging for it.”

“Yay!” Michael went in for the hug, before Mike pushed them away. Michael’s quest for a cool big brother failed yet again. “Do you want to call the -”

“They’re your hallways,” Mike said, persnickety as always. Maybe he was just jealous that he wasn’t a hallway?

Michael raised their hand, patiently waiting for the professor to call on them. He stumbled in the middle of his lecture, adjusting his thick glasses.

“Uh, yes, Miss -”

“You no longer understand gender,” Michael said pleasantly, as they always did whenever they were misgendered. It was an understandable mistake, so they didn’t do it maliciously. Frankly, they just thought it was healthy. Everyone should not understand false things. “Professor, I have a question about the Crocodile’s Dilemma.” They waited for the professor to nod, somewhat confused. “How do you know that didn’t really happen?”

The professor blinked lethargically at them. “It’s a thought experiment. It’s not real, it’s just an idea proposed by philosophers to represent -”

“What makes you so sure?” Michael asked cheerfully. “Crocodiles eat babies. Or dingoes. I think I read a story about this happening in Australia, didn’t you?”

“I - I suppose I did, yes -”

“We wouldn’t talk about it if it didn’t really happen.” Michael felt their voice fall into a rising lilt, like an attractive song that was played to a concert hall but heard only by you. They were distantly aware of Mike lulling the rest of the students into their own hazy daze: aware enough to be confused, but trapped in their seats and the fog of misunderstandings. “Fiction isn’t real. Reality is real. But a thought experiment is in between, isn’t it? Something that strains the boundaries of reality, that proves the fundamental concepts of life, told through a framework of an intrinsic lie. A paradox is a lie telling the truth. You are a truth speaker telling only lies. What you know isn’t so much as anything at all, is it? What do you really know, anyway?”

“One of us tells only the truth and the other tells only lies,” Mike Crew called out, bored. But his eyes were shining in endless refraction, infinite rooms holding infinite guests. “But is it really a lie if you had mistaken it for the truth? What lies are you living, Dr. Young?”

Dr. Young was stammering, eyes swimming, and Michael didn’t dare to break eye contact. It was a delicate spell they wove, but Michael wasn’t so bad at bringing this simmer to a boil. Cooking was about improvisation, and Michael had always been great at that.

“If your life is a lie,” Michael breathed, “then are you really alive?”

It was clear, when it happened: the professor started inhaling deep, deeper breaths, chest wracking with heaves. His eyes rolled up in his head, he clutched at his chest, and he finally slumped down on the floor. He twitched, jerking slightly, and he would continue jerking. At which point the students would become aware, and they’d call an ambulance for him, and he would be perfectly alright in the end. If a little mentally scarred.

“Damn,” Mike Crew said, almost impressed, as both he and Michael stood up. He shoved his pens in a backpack, glad to be free of his examination for another week. “What’d you do to him?”

“Made him think he was dead,” Michael said serenely. “He thought his heart had stopped beating so he had a panic attack. He’s going to have to make an appointment with a psychiatrist but he probably should anyway, work’s very stressful for him.”

“Guess I have the rest of the hour off,” Mike sighed, as he held the door open for Michael so they could slip out of the back of the classroom. It was yellow, and a little strange. “Want to grab a pint with me at the campus pub?” He paused a beat. “Wait, are you even old enough to drink?”

“I’m as old as eternity and reborn every second.” Michael paused a beat. “But I was eighteen last time I checked, and I’ll probably be eighteen for a while, so yes?”

“Great, let’s roll. I need a drink.”

****

Mike’s uni’s pub (Michael had asked the name of the uni but the information had, unfortunately, been lost in next Tuesday, so they’ll know then) was the exact opposite of the high class pub Helen had taken them to. Instead of glassy, shiny, and chromey, Mike’s pub looked strongly as if very many people had puked in it and the staff had tackled the problem somewhat half-heartedly. Michael enjoyed the sight of the puke existing in all points in time simultaneously, giving it a sort of weird yellow-ish shine. Actually, maybe all puke had that yellowish sheen?

When they asked Mike about it as they hopped up on the bar, he just sighed. He flagged the bartender down for a pint, and when the bartender squinted dubiously at Michael they revelled into the micro-confusion of ambiguous ages. Micro-feeding? Like mini muffins?

“Helen made a mistake hiring you. She’s stuck us with a perpetual teenager.”

“I’m as much a teenager as you are a uni student,” Michael said pointedly.

“I’m not an embodiment of the It Is What It Isn’t Is,” Mike said, oddly aggressively. “I’m just a normal Avatar.”

“Fear demon.”

“Melanie King isn’t always right and I don’t know why everyone thinks she is.” Big words from an honored Special Guest on her show. There were many in the fear demon community who would kill for the honor. It was a good thing she hated intruders in her Archives - otherwise they’d never leave. “But I’m no different from - that douche Peter Lukas or that stoner Elias Bouchard or that btich Annabelle, okay? I’m just a guy. Who eats trauma. Plenty of guys do that.”

“Very good denial of reality!” Michael approved. “Normally Helen tells me to go further into denying reality as a concept, though.”

“God, you hallway people are impossible to have a normal conversation with.” Mike huffed, clearly not as irritated as his words would imply. Michael also approved of the incongruity. “I’m assuming that you’re here for absolutely no reason and that you have no idea why or how you ended up at my uni.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, I am here for a reason.” At Mike’s extreme surprise, they hurriedly clarified, “Not with any goal, meaning, or intention in mind! But I just wanted to talk about something to someone who wasn’t technically another facet of my meaningless whole. Helen and I are as index and ring fingers on the same hand, but we don’t really get each other sometimes, you know?”

“Does that make you the pinky finger?”

“I actually had a hypothetical for you.” At Mike’s nod, Michael snagged a napkin from the stack on the sticky bar and began creasing it, somewhat anxiously. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you were a teenagerish nongendered sentient hallway intern who happens to eat trauma.”

“This isn’t much of a hypothetical,” Mike said flatly.

“I’m a hypothetical person. And I’m only a person hypothetically.” Michael started making little folds in the napkin, twisting it up into a strange origami. “So, let’s say, hypothetically, that this person - their name is Michael - enjoyed being them. It wasn’t always fun, and sometimes they kind of missed the world making sense, or at least not making sense in a familiar way. And sometimes Michael got tired of being a sentient hallway and wanted to finish secondary. And maybe even sometimes Michael grows sad that both their parents were eaten by their new boss, who is kind of a Tory! But that’s all fine. Michael’s probably happier like this than they ever were even when they did have parents.”

Mike Crew stared at them a little, slowly sipping his pint.

Michael hunched their shoulders, and folded up the napkin further and further. They had read somewhere that any piece of paper can only be folded seven times. They folded the napkin seven times, then eight, then nine, then ten. That was something nice about the way things were now, they supposed: no rules, absolute freedom. Only rules, no freedom. That was what Dr. Yung would call a paradox. “But maybe the worst part about this new job is that Michael doesn’t really like hurting people. Sometimes it’s fun to randomly make people very upset, and you always kind of end up doing it anyway, but after a while Michael feels kind of bad about it. Michael likes doing other things better, like making terrible roundabouts and rearranging the pages of books. Maybe they even like reading books. They like reading comic books backwards, from the last page to the first, so every panel is a surprise.”

“There’s lots of ways to be a fear demon,” Mike pointed out, almost gently. Maybe only because he could relate. “Look at me. I’m not feeding off anyone. Just myself.”

“But I like the way I do it,” Michael said, frustrated. “Helen keeps trying to get me to do it the way she does it, but the point is that we aren’t the same. What’s the point in having two of us if both our viewpoints are the same? We’re different in every way, but we’re the same being. I just want to be the Spiral the way I want. Not the way Helen wants.” Their voice lowered, almost unwilling to say what they were about to say. “Not the way the Spiral wants.”

Mike stared at them for a long time, slowly sipping his beer, and Michael focused their efforts on forcing this improbable napkin into something that could be beautiful. A lotus flower? A mobius strip? Or should they just let it happen as it happens, and see what form it decided to take?

Finally, Mike said, “You are the Spiral.”

“Then why am I always disagreeing with it?” Michael asked miserably.

“Why are you, Helen, and the Spiral always disagreeing?” Mike pointed out. “Maybe that’s the point. So much as anything’s a point. Isn’t it the most perfect paradox of all, to split yourself into portions that are always disagreeing and bickering? Maybe everything you’re feeling is on purpose. I mean, it’s kind of improbable that you’re feeling at all, right?”

“I retained a lot of humanity,” Michael said. “Maybe a bit too much, actually?”

“Right.” Mike nodded decisively. “Then that’s the appeal. A human mind will always strain against its confines. It will always want different, want the same, want the old and the new and the perpetual and the fleeting and the eternity and the moment. What’s more nonsensical than a human? What’s more contradictory than human nature?” A dark shadow passed over his face, just for a second. “The Spiral kidnaps us and turns us into it. One part of our minds is entrenched in its eternity, and another part is always screaming in agony. But predominantly we are the unholy mixture of human and Entity, oil forced into water. It’s so intrinsically horrifying and wrong that we just get used to it. We are both demon and human, and so we’re neither, and so we’re both. Isn’t it weird, Michael, that unlike so many other Avatars, none of us want to be here?”

“You’re a very philosophical person,” Michael said diplomatically.

“Thanks, I think too much about my lot in life.” Mike Crew sighed, slumping on his barstool and knocking back more of his pint. “I wish you and Helen would stop showing up in my life so often. When you aren’t around, I can almost pretend I’m a person.”

“That’s why we show up,” Michael felt obligated to point out.

“Yeah, I know,” Mike said glumly. “I always know. I can’t stop knowing.”

There was nothing Michael could say or do that fixed this, or that could make Mike feel better. They understood, just a little - that nostalgia for a kinder time. But maybe it was more that Mike never had those halcyon, innocent days. He had lived life since childhood in aching knowledge that his days were numbered. Maybe that’s why Mike was allowed to live life as a human even now: his human life was just as confusing and isolated as his afterlife, and that when fear stained every second of his life there was no point in ceasing it.

Maybe Michael couldn’t keep their human life because they had been happy. At the very least, they had been ignorant. That was one thing the Spiral could not abide: ignorance.

These days, Michael knew everything. They knew everything so, so much.

So, in lieu of comforting falsehoods, Michael offered Mike Crew a slightest sliver of truth. They passed Mike the little piece of origami that they had made, and let Mike cradle it in his large and smooth hands.

The origami had no shape. It wasn’t folded into anything. It was just a meaningless amalgamation of points, corners, and creased paper. It didn’t look like anything at all.

“See?” Michael pointed out. “It’s a bear.”

Mike Crew smiled weakly. “Looks like a sea goat to me.”

There was something beautiful in ambiguity. When something was nothing, it could be everything at once. That was rather Michael’s favorite thing about it.

“I think it’s a self-portrait,” Michael decided.

And that, at least, was as true as anything else.

***

Michael wandered their hallways.

On some level, they were pretty much perpetually doing that. Even as one facet of them talked with Michael in a campus pub, even as another helped Helen convince a high class pub into voting Brexit, even as they traumatized a physics professor, they wandered these hallways.

Make no mistake: everything in this story has/will/is happened/happening simultaneously.

Of course, on another level Michael was literally their hallways, and thus they were not so much wandering as existing. Pulsating, one could say. Even twisting, if one would be so bold.

There was a mirror, in the hallway. Not a funhouse mirror - although Michael did enjoy popping out from those and scaring Nikola - but just a mirror. Gilded around the edges, ornate with swirling curlicues. You could see yourself in it. You could see a lot of yourself in it. It wasn’t what you had always looked like, not really, but you just had the sense that this was what you really looked like. Maybe you had always looked like this, and everybody was just too polite to tell you. Were you really a brunette? This mirror had to be right. You had been a blonde all along. Nobody had told you. They were laughing at you. They were laughing -

But this was Michael, and Michael’s, and nothing in here could harm them. It was even comforting. They looked at themselves in the mirror, and saw themselves same as ever. Or not same as ever. They were still Michael, so far as Michael was Michael.

Shortish. Blondey. Raggedy hair. Curled as much as anything’s curled. Fun clothing that they really enjoyed. Tall shoes, because they liked feeling tall. Similar dimensions to the golden number. Non linear, but who’s counting? It was what they typically looked like.

But, just for a second, Michael even fooled themselves. They saw someone in the mirror that they were not, someone who they had never been, someone who they never will be. Someone different.

Michael, just like everyone else, couldn’t stop themselves from reaching out. Come back. Come back! Let me touch you, let me be you! Michael’s fingers brushed the shiny glass, and the world tilted sideways, and Michael fell into where the sidewalk ended.

They emerged, or maybe they had always been, inside a bedroom. It was a nice little suburban bedroom. It had a peaked ceiling and a window seat. The walls were a soft, navy blue. There was a young person, lying on the shag carpet, leafing through a book. Big headphones were over their ears, and they were bopping along to music. Disco.

Michael stood, an intruder into a familiar space, and watched the stranger. Their throat felt oddly tight, and their eyes felt strangely hot. The stranger was smiling faintly, flipping the pages of their book somewhat mindlessly. They were reading it for school. Flatland. It was just an assignment, but it was really fucking them up. It was making them think about all of these things that they didn’t normally, in new dimensions. It was really cool. All of their friends were just reading the Sparknotes, but they really wanted to talk about it with someone.

This, of course, had happened. It will happen in the future. It was happening now, as Michael watched the scene with an electric sadness. It would never happen, because the Spiral had never been here, and never would be, and always was.

A knock echoed on the door, several sharp raps. Michael didn’t notice, legs swinging to the music.

The knock on the door hit louder. “Michael!” A voice echoed from behind it. “Michael, are you ready to go?”

Michael reached up and slid off their headphones, without looking up from their book. “Coming!” They called back. “Be right there!”

The Spiral watched Michael, who hummed absentmindedly as the door knocked again. Dad was downstairs, making sure the gas was off and shutting off the lights. Mum was knocking, knocking, knocking, on a door that was and will always be wood.

“Have you packed yet?” Mum called.

“Sure I have!” Michael yelled back, glancing at the empty suitcase on the bed and the messy pile of clothes right next to it. They pushed themselves up, flipping the book shut and rising to their feet. “Be right out!”

“Hurry up,” Mum called, as the Spiral mouthed the words along with her. “We’re going to be late!”

The Bermudas aren’t going anywhere, Michael thought spitefully. They stuffed their clothes haphazardly in a suitcase, took far more care to pack their laptop and DS, and shoved Flatland in a side pocket of their backpack.

When Michael slung on his backpack, unfolded the handle from their suitcase, they were not even looking at the door they left through. They were entirely focused on managing the unruly suitcase, and walked straight through the crazed yellow door.

Of course, Michael walked out. Slightly stranger, a little better, a lot worse. Exactly the same. They were back in their hallways again, fresh from their little suburban bedroom and the child exiting one world and entering one quite different. Maybe one part of that child would always be in that bedroom, another part in these hallways, and another part always caught in that doorway and the transition.

Simultaneously, in all points in time, Mum knocked on that wood door, and Michael never let her inside. Simultaneously, at all points in time, Michael watched it all happen.

They hadn’t expected it to be so comforting. At all moments in time, in a little corner of their heart, Mum knocked on their door. If the Spiral lived in your soul and beat your heart, it was easy to find the beauty in it - the magnificence of eternity, and the joy in the moment. Mum was with them - literally, as he was pretty sure Helen was still digesting her. Maybe nothing was ever truly over - just over there.

Michael stuck their hands in their pockets, whistling a jaunty tune that highly resembled the Shepherd’s Tone. Their hallways pulsated comfortingly, and Michael carefully toed off their platform shoes and eyed down the infinite hallways. No rugs for a while.

Maybe Michael, Mike Crew, and Helen should get together more often. Just the three of them. They would drive each other batty. It would be a lot of fun.

Michael set off running down the hallway, and skidded on their socks down the hardwood floor, whooping in joy as they skidded endlessly towards eternity.

#my writing #the magnus archives #tma #the magnus archives fanfic #tma fanfic #michael the distortion #helen the distortion #michael #helen #michael shelley #helen richardson #mike crew #the distortion #the spiral #Michael views their life as an embodiment of terror and unreality as roughly equivelant to capitalism #Helen is kind of regretting hiring this kid but it's probably the only thing stopping them from eating her #Mike Crew really really really hates his fear cousins #i had to open a lot of wikipedia pages for this so you're welcome

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ellewritesathing · 3 years

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Infernal IX

Summary: In your sleepy little town of Greendale, nothing ever slept for long. And ever since October, everything felt like it was waking up. Everything except for you, that is. One teensy trip to Hell (and an infuriatingly cute guy) later and suddenly you felt wide awake.

Word-count: 2k+

Masterlist Prev. | Part 9

A/N: sorry for dropping of the face of the earth!! i’ve been super overwhelmed with uni but here we are 💕 enjoy the angst

When you went to her for help to face the Absolute Dark, Lilith had told you that you could feed on the dark and absorb its power. Even after unbinding your powers, you were left with more power than ever before. You were warned about the dangers of power, but no one told you how consuming it would be. There wasn't a moment that went by that you didn't draw on the Darkness, and almost all you could think about was testing the limits of your power. Every day was a new attempt at mastery, sometimes in the form of controlling a jerk who went too far and other times by tearing through the pages of a grimoire. You'd missed school. You hadn’t talked to your friends in days. For the first time in your life, you were selfish.

You thought Caliban would have liked the new, rebellious version of you better - Lilith certainly did - but he’d been acting strangely ever since the incident at the Paramount. He was more closed-off with you than before, more hesitant with what he said or did to you. At first, his concern for your safety was amusing, but now it just infuriated you. You felt watched and alone even when you were with him.

If he didn’t trust you anymore, then Caliban should just leave.

The flame on the wick exploded, and you cursed as you shook out your burnt palm and scowled at the ruined ritual in front of you. Exploring the Celestial Realm would have to wait.

“Thou art a soul in bliss, but I am bound upon a wheel of fire.”

“That mine own tears do scald like molten lead.” With a sigh, you lowered your palm to your side and turned to face the familiar voice in the corner of your room. “King Lear.”

Caliban’s mouth turned up into a smile. “You’ve been reading.” He leaned easily against your doorframe, seemingly forgetting how your last interaction had blown up.

“I’ve had time,” you said. You crossed your arms over your chest as you walked closer. “What are you doing here?”

Caliban shrugged and stepped closer. “Quiet day in Hell. I thought we could talk.”

“And what do you want to talk about today?”

Caliban reached a hand out to the side of your neck, but you didn’t move. His touch was frosty. “Theo says you haven’t been at school. He was worried about you.”

Your voice caught in your throat. The Darkness stirred at the idea of your friends talking about you behind your back. “I didn’t know you two were so close.”

“Well, since Rosalind is dating Huckleberry Finn, so Theo is my favorite…” Caliban sucked in a breath when you didn’t respond to his joke. He dropped his hand and looked down for a moment. “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”

“Your offer to fix me?”

“That isn't what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.” You poked his chest angrily. “Because you think there’s something wrong with me.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” Caliban’s easy sense of calm faltered as he reached for your hand. He wasn't used to being vulnerable or trying so hard. “Please, will you just listen to me for a moment? This much Darkness is dangerous. It’s changing you.”

“Have you ever thought this is how I’m supposed to be?” You stepped closer and lowered your voice. “I’m Lilith's heir. I’m made of darkness.”

“This isn’t who you are.”

“Yes, it is!”

The candles behind you reignited, their flames exploding to touch your ceiling. You ripped your hands away and stumbled back. Even with all the arguing you'd done and all Darkness in your veins, you’d never yelled at Caliban before then. You breathed heavy, unsteady breaths, trying to get your heart to stop racing and your hands to stop shaking.

Despite his furrowed brow and stormy eyes, Caliban was rooted to the spot just in front of your door. His hand twitched to help you, but he didn’t make any other movements.

“There is nothing wrong with me, do you understand? I’m not broken.”

Caliban’s lips parted, but lightning cracked in your room before he got the chance to speak. The candles were snuffed out in the blinding light, and for a moment, the room was deathly still. The hair on your arms stood on end.

Lilith’s cry brought you back to reality. She clutched her ginormous belly in one hand and clung to one of the minions with her other. When she opened her eyes, instead of explaining, she zeroed in on Caliban. “What is he doing here?”

“He was just leaving,” you said before he could answer. As angry as you were with him, you weren’t going to let your mother hurt him.

Caliban smiled, but it wasn’t as warm as before; his smile was something rueful and tight-lipped. He bowed, twirling his hand as he did, and said, “As you wish,” before disappearing in Hellfire.

It would have hurt less if he stuck a dagger in your chest and twisted.

Lilith screamed again as she crumpled to her knees. Glaring up at you, she forced out, “Something’s wrong with my baby. Take me to Zelda Spellman.”

---

Growing up, it had always been you and your dad. He taught you how to tie your shoes, tried an awfully intricate hairstyle for your first day of school, and read you a story every night before bed. As much as you loved him, it always felt as though your family was missing something. Having long given up on your mom ever coming home, you asked him if you could have a little brother. He promised that one day, when you’d probably forgotten that you asked in the first place, you’d get a little brother.

It was an easy lie to get you to stop asking about having a family - except, as you held the sleeping lump in your arms, you realized that your dad never lied to you. This perfect, troublesome little lump was all you’d ever wanted.

“What do you want to name him?” Lilith asked. You turned away from the window to face her as she pulled herself into a sitting position. She winced slightly as she did, more out of annoyance than pain.

“What?”

Rolling her eyes, she repeated, “What do you want to name him?”

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. Looking down at his face, it was hard to believe he came into this world without a name. It was hard to believe that you’d only had him a few hours at most. “Michael?”

“Less angelic,” Lilith critiqued, taking a long sip from the healing elixir Hilda had given her. Her disdain for herbalism was clear on the look of her face.

You huffed, rocking slightly on your heel to keep him sleeping. “His name is Adam.”

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you thought about it, sounding offhand but packing a punch. Lilith’s grip on the glass turned her fingers bone white. After an icy second, she repeated the name to herself. A wicked smile covered her features. “Adam,” she hummed. “I could agree to that, on the condition that-”

A knock sounded at the door and Lilith froze. Whoever was outside knocked again and you heard Zelda mumbling as the door handle turned and Lilith told them to come inside. She pulled you and Adam closer to her side. Uncharacteristically patient for her, Lilith waited for the witches to shuffle inside and explain that the Lords of Hell were asking to pay tribute to Adam.

The Uninvited had been the Darkness' family. When they were trapped in the alternate reality of Sabrina's dollhouse, the Darkness had lashed out with a white-hot fury, pushing angrily at your ribs and trying to break out. The thought of Adam being taken away from made the Darkness just as angry, but the scary thing was that it made you even angrier.

“Pay tribute?” Lilith scoffed, reaching to take Adam from your arms. Reluctantly, you let her take him. “They are here for one reason and one reason only: to kill my baby.” Before either of the Spellmans could respond, she added, “The baby you just delivered, Zelda Spellman.”

Zelda knotted her hands together. “Very well. Let’s give them the welcome they deserve.” Turning to the witches, “Ladies, if you’ll follow me.”

“Actually…” you stepped forward and tilted your chin up. “I’d like to have a word with them.”

Zelda faltered for the first time in all the years you’d known her. She might have known about your powers, but it must have been difficult for her to process that the child that brought her dandelions each spring was a demon. “Alright,” she said with a nod. “We will be right beside you.”

With a nod of your own, you led the way to the Academy gates. Your chest buzzed at the idea of being one of these witches, butterflies fluttering through the Darkness with all the excitement. Standing in front of the Lords, you clenched your tingling fingertips. They were as unpleasant to look at as the day you met them.

“What do you want?”

They looked at each other for a moment before one of them nodded and the other said, “Word has reached the Infernal Palace that a babe was born of Lucifer’s concubine, Lilith. We come bearing gifts?”

“Aren’t there supposed to be three of you?” With each word, you took a step down the gates. Pointing a finger at the gifts in their hands, you asked, “With gold, frankincense, and myrrh instead of these … trinkets?”

The other one pulled the box close to himself. Asmodeus, if you remembered right. “Bite your tongue, you insolent child. We come at the Dark Lord’s behest.”

You tilted your head to the side. Letting the Darkness seep into your veins, you told him. “Bite your tongue.” He frowned, blinking slowly. “I said: Bite your tongue, and because you didn’t do it right the first time, now I want you to bite it off.”

His voice rose, but all that came out were a few strangled noises before Asmodeus’ eyes glazed over, the box fell to the ground, and blood oozed out of his mouth. He spat his tongue into his hands, coughing and trying to speak, as Beelzebub cursed you.

He didn't get very far before Darkness tinged your vision as you turned to him. You didn’t have to speak this time to control him, just wave a hand and watch him fall to his knees.

“We will not leave-” he grit his teeth as he struggled against the weight of your will “-without the babe.”

Bending down, you grabbed one of the horns on the top of his head to pull his face up to meet your own. “No.” You smiled. “No, I don’t think you’ll be leaving here at all.”

You threw his head to the side and took a step back, watching Asmodeus choke on his own blood and Beelzebub writhe. The Darkness filled your body, and the world grew so still that your heart didn’t dare disturb it by beating. In a cold, distant voice, you recited your most familiar spell.

“Ater ignus, fusce fume.” Beelzebub yelled. You clenched a fist to force his mouth shut. “Te evoco ut potentium tuam monstres.” A spark ignited, right between each of their shoulder blades. “Cupidibus flammis hic veni.” The flames licked their backs, growing taller and darker by the second. “Caelo sub isto, harc arborem consumo.” The puddle of Asmodeus’ blood caught alight, illuminating his wretched face as it burned. “Lucem tenebrasque tuas monstra. Impetuum tuum evoco ad devorandum.” Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and let the Darkness consume all three of you. “Hanc arborem ac omnes hospitas devora.”

The flames erupted in front of you, blinding your eyes and knocking you off your feet. You were dimly aware of the witches screaming your name and the rush of heels against cobblestones as something sticky and cold dripped down your face. Not tears. Or blood.

Only Darkness.

Tagged: @caliban-is-my-girl @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @music-movies @miss--moose @marrypuffsstuff @harryscarolinaa @igorsbby @foji2000 @hxlalokidottir @artaxerxesthegreat @thxmagic @luquincy @strawberriesandknives @xealia @hotmessindisguise @acciomaximoff @reheated-coffee @olivia-west-allen @sweetrogers @shelby-x @perseny-blog @millie-753 @luneerius @shizzybarnaclee @lettherebelovex @drrramaaaqweeen @throughparisallthroughrome @ietss @thebookwormlife @mechanicalanimalz @mariamermaid @nqbmf @roxytheimmortal @shephard17895 @andie-kathleen @clockworks-world-to-fandoms @blondeeee-e @piensa-bonito @supportstudies @bookishaficionado @perfectlysane24 @sophia-of-sass-gard @insomniac-nerd-posts-things (struck through wouldn’t tag)

#Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #caos #caos rewrite #Infernal #Caliban #caliban x reader

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foramomentonly · 3 years

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Saved-A Meet Ugly

Author’s Note: Behold, the promised meet ugly inspired by @aewriting ! Blatantly stealing titles from early aughts teen films of my youth at this point.

Summary: Alex discovers a) his new roommate is a Christian Fundamentalist who hates him, b) he’s love with said roommate, and c) he’s super wrong.

CW: negative perspective on organized Christianity/Fundamentalism

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Alex meets his dormmate briefly in the hall as he and his parents are heading out to lunch. Michael Guerin is friendly, his barely-contained, nervous energy evident in the restless way he passes his hands through his close-cropped curls. His parents are formal, bordering on sour, and they glare at Alex’s eyeliner and polished fingernails with disdain. They don’t invite him to eat with them. Then again, Alex thinks as they part and he wanders towards the room he’ll share with Michael, his own father didn’t even bother to drop him off at school. Glass houses, or some shit like that.

Michael has claimed the left side of the room, his bed neatly made up with simple, blue sheets and his desk stuffed with thick textbooks, some already clearly marked with wear. A battered, clunky-looking laptop charges on his nightstand. Some secret tension in Alex slowly uncoils with the knowledge that he isn’t sharing living space with some rich prick; when he eschewed the Manes family military tradition for higher education, Alex left home with little more than his scholarships and a military duffle stuffed with clothes and stolen linens to his name. Knowing his days of watching douchebags like Kyle Valenti flaunt expensive tokens of their parents’ unconditional love are over is a small comfort.

That is, until Alex notices the crucifix resting on Michael's plaid pillowcase. It’s innocuous enough; Liz Ortecho's small home has plenty, family heirlooms hung as reverently as Texas gas station finds, and Alex counts her among his true family. But the facts fall into place like thundering dominos—Michael’s parents' disgust at Alex's makeup, the family's conservative clothes, Michael's closely-chopped hair and, after a bit of snooping, the two well-worn Bibles Alex finds, one in Michael's nightstand and the other on his small bookshelf. Fundamentalists, most likely. Alex swears loud and defiant into the empty room. He thought he'd left bigots and homophobes in his dust, but like a plague of fucking locusts, they followed him, and here he is about to share a sink with one of them.

But Alex also knows better than most that kids aren’t always carbon copies of their parents’ stupidity; he’d flip his shit if someone assumed they knew literally anything about his beliefs based on his asshole father. So when Michael returns to the room Alex is in stealth mode, spread out across his bed and feigning disinterest by flipping through his welcome packet, tracking Michael’s movements out of the corner of his eye. Michael blows a loud puff of air out through his lips and looks like he’s about to flop onto his bed. When he sees the crucifix, he freezes; Alex is about to celebrate a victory against religious indoctrination when Michael lifts the small cross reverently off his pillow and, after an appraising scan of his space, hangs it low on the wall above his nightstand, dragging his school-issued lamp in front of it. He jerks his chin down in a small nod of satisfaction before his eyes dart quickly over to Alex; he almost catches Alex in a glower. Instead, Alex is quietly seething over an intramural sports schedule, his face blank, eyes burning holes in the middle of the page. He figures he’s in the clear when he hears Michael’s bedsprings creak with the sudden weight of his body. Alex glances up and Michael is crossing his arms lazily behind his head. He lets out a loud, satisfied sigh and shoots Alex a disarmingly sincere grin.

“Free at last, huh?” he drawls, and Alex arches a cold brow.

“Sure.”

Alex has every intention of icing Michael out of his daily existence, but as months go by—months where Michael lets his curls grow wild, rambles on and on about the science of irrigation, offers Alex his extensive biology notes for midterms, and laughs loud and deep at all of Alex’s snarky asides—Alex finds himself smiling easily at Michael in return, willingly passing lazy lunch hours and weekend afternoons with him. It comes down to this: for all Michael hasn’t done—the crucifix is an ever-present shadow above his nightstand and weekly video check-ins with his parents are never missed—he just doesn’t fit the mold. He smokes weed on the abandoned picnic tables behind the dorm at night, signs every social justice-oriented pledge and petition shoved at him on a cheap, plastic clipboard on their way to class, and he never wakes up before noon on Sundays. He isn’t fire and brimstone, hate and hellfire. He’s marshmellow fluff; laid back and open, sweet and eager to please, all messy curls and broad shoulders and goofy smiles with too much teeth and—oh, fuck. Alex is in love with him.

Alex is in love with Michael and Michael probably thinks Alex deserves to burn in hell and it’s Kyle all over again. Alex was never in love with Kyle Valenti, but he loved him the way a neglected, angry little boy would love the popular, gregarious kid who was his only source of sunlight. Graciously. Blindly. Kyle was Alex’s best friend, and when middle school puberty made evident that Kyle was a stud and Alex was, well. Alex felt the betrayal of Kyle’s sudden targeted cruelty like a punch to the gut, long before Kyle or his new friends ever laid hands on him. And now, Alex realizes, Michael is his best friend and his heart’s deepest desire and, he’s finally ready to admit, who he jerks off to on lazy mornings after Michael’s barely made it out the door for his 8 a.m. class with a shirt on. Alex is well and truly fucked. “Damned” is too on the nose.

Then one day Alex is dragging his miserably-in-love ass back from class and he totally misses the tie that slipped from the doorknob onto the ugly carpet in front of their door and he opens it on Michael and some random guy going at it on Michael’s bed, sheets bunched at the foot of the mattress, shirts tossed inside out on the floor, and Michael’s hand deep down the guy’s jeans as he pants and whines into Michael’s mouth.

“Shit!” Alex cries, waffling between shutting the door behind him to shield them from the prying eyes of hallway passers-by or in front of him to shut himself out of his own room. “I-I’m so sorry.”

Michael looks flustered, but it’s not the bone-deep terror of being outed; Alex is intimately familiar with that darkest timeline of queer identity. His boyfriend—hook up?—just looks annoyed. His dark eyes glare at Alex and he snaps, “Do you mind, man?” with a sharp nod towards the door. Alex squares his jaw and opens his mouth to retort when Michael says softly, seriously, “Don’t talk to him like that,” shaking his head at his bedmate. The guy huffs in disbelief, rolling off the bed to pull on his shirt, still inside out, and fasten his jeans, brushing his fingers through messy, deep brown hair.

“You’re seriously kicking me out right now?” he murmurs low, and when Michael doesn't answer, he spits, “You are such a dick.”

Michael winces and bites his lip, normally bright eyes dim and gaze cast down towards his own hands. The sight of Michael cowed, flushed and hurt and getting told off by the same Hot Topic reject who was getting off with him not five minutes ago trips Alex's long-dormant kill switch. He steps into the guy's space, pulling back his shoulders so his shirt stretches tight over the muscles of his arms and chest, and draws up to his full height.

"You have thirty seconds to get the fuck out of our room," Alex says, voice low and eerily calm, even to his own ears. The guy glowers at Alex, but the corner of his mouth twitches and he blinks first, intimidation evident in his narrowed eyes. He brushes past Alex and slams the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" Alex asks, moving closer to Michael on instinct and setting a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. Michael gazes up at him with wide, honey eyes, opens his soft, pink mouth, and blurts, "I love you."

Alex blinks, gapes, and what comes out of his mouth is an incredulous, “But I’m gay!”

Michael snorts, cups Alex’s forearm gently and runs his palm up and down his skin, the soft hair on his arms.

“Yeah, I know. That’s kinda why I’m hoping I have a shot.” He pauses, hesitation creeping across his face, and he takes his hand off of Alex abruptly, as though he hadn’t quite realized he’d put it there in the first place. “If you’re not interested, I totally—”

“No, no, I am,” Alex says, and the wattage of Michael’s answering grin could power the university’s electric grid for the rest of the semester. “But I thought you were, like, Team Westboro or whatever.”

Michael’s face falls, his whole body withers, and he hugs his arms around his naked waist. The impact of Alex's words on Michael horrify him, and he drops onto the bed next to Michael, takes Michael's hand in his and strokes his thumb across it’s back, feels the knots of Michael’s knuckles as he grips Alex's hand in return.

“Why the hell would you think that?” Michael asks, staring at their palms pressed together in his lap.

Alex shrugs, answers, "I mean, I didn't. I don't. Not about, like, you." Michael turns his head, brow wrinkled in confusion. "It's just. The cross? The Bibles? Your parents, I—"

"They're not my parents, "Michael interrupts, voice flat. "They raised me, but. They never formally adopted me, and I'd have fucking run the other direction if I thought they were gonna."

Alex stays quiet, waits for Michael to continue, squeezes his hand gently to let Michael know he's listening.

"They're Fundamentalist assholes, for sure, but I never bought into that shit, especially once I—I realized I like more than just girls." Michael reaches out, pushes his lamp out of the way and glares at the crucifix. "I'd love to never see their fucking faces ever again, but winter break is coming up, and then summer vacation, and—" He hangs his head, nearly whispers, "I need to have a place to go. I can't afford an apartment on my own yet. So I play nice. Put that on my wall and make sure it's in the background for video calls. There’s, like, zero support for kids who age out of the system alone. I fucking hate it, but I need them."

Michael leans his head close to Alex's, catches his gaze and holds it with deep, whiskey-colored eyes Alex all but falls into.

"I'm not ashamed of what I like or who I love," he says, "and I'm so fucking in love with you, Alex. I just thought maybe you weren't into me."

Alex licks his lips, and a flush of arousal darkens his cheeks as Michael tracks the movements of his tongue with hungry concentration.

"I'm extremely into you," he says, his throat very suddenly bone dry, his voice husky. Michael's gaze hasn't moved from his lips, but he has flipped Alex's hand in his lap, starts running slow, feather-light brushes of his fingertips across Alex's palm and up his arm, fingers snaking under the short sleeve of Alex's shirt.

"I really wanna kiss you," Michael breathes, "but I’m also aware you just walked in on me hooking up with, like, Alex Manes-lite, so I—"

Alex closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Michael's and cupping his neck, fingers finding their way into Michael's curls like he's been fantasizing about for so long. They're silky, clingy, and Michael tastes like lingering mouthwash and he smells like rain and Alex presses himself into Michael's lap, desperate to feel Michael's arms around his waist, the hard press of his chest against Alex's.

"I really want to do more than kiss you," Alex pants when they reluctantly part for air, when Michael’s fingers slip beneath his shirt and his nails scrape down Alex’s spine, and Alex feels the touch much lower on the geography of his skin.

Michael laughs, loud and free, and his strong hands on Alex's hips guide his legs apart until Alex is straddling his lap, those same hands pushing Alex's shirt up his chest, over his head.

"Thank God," Michael laughs, and reaches for Alex's belt.

#roswell nm #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #college au #meet ugly #cw: negative perspective on Christianity/Fundamentalism

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years

Text

Being Fake Soulmates with Dr. Chilton (Part 4)

<- Part 3 | Part 5 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader | The Good Place crossover

Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, angst

1,560 words

He held your hand loosely in his, stroking the soft of your palm with his thumb—an almost ticklish sensation that sent goosebumps rushing up your arm, making your heart skip erratically.

You sat side-by-side on a velvet loveseat whose curling arms were inlaid with patterns of baroque gold—entirely Frederick’s style, but remarkably comfortable nonetheless. One of your legs draped lazily over his, and his arm created a nest for your shoulders. It was wonderful being close to someone whose presence you were completely comfortable in. To feel his soft breathing rising and falling beside you, and the texture of his skin against yours.

The remains of your morning tea rested on the coffee table—a rustic piece of reclaimed farmhouse wood in which the raw natural materials were the focus. Your eco-aesthetic should have clashed with Frederick’s old-world aristocratic style, but somehow the combination elevated both.

Soulmates.

The more you glimpsed of the insecurity behind Dr. Frederick Chilton’s pretentious mask, the more you realized what it meant to be soulmates. It wasn’t about being the same, but different in ways that complemented each other. You kept him humble. He taught you to put yourself first. You filled his loneliness, and he brought out your confidence. But more than that, he was always there—no matter what challenges the afterlife threw at you, you came back home to each other, held each other, and everything was fine.

So long as you had your soulmate, you could face anything.

The steady stroking on your palm stuttered and paused. You lifted your head from his shoulder to see the pensive expression quietly furrowing his brow.

“If we met on earth,” he pondered softly, “do you think we would have...?” Dark notes of distress clouded his voice, as he if already knew and didn’t like the answer to the question he didn’t entirely ask.

“I don’t know.” If you hadn’t been told by an immortal, all-knowing afterlife architect that this was your soulmate, would have ever in a million years given Dr. Chilton enough of a chance to see beneath his snobby crust? You’d rather not hurt him by focusing on a probable no, so instead you said, “I only went to Baltimore once, as a kid. To go to the aquarium. I think it was a side trip from when we visited DC. Were you ever in New England?”

His jaw tensed—the only outward sign of what you expected was a fierce internal debate on whether to correct you for answering whether they would have met when his question was if. He decided to let it go.

“I spent some time there. I went to Harvard, of course, so I am familiar with the region.”

“I went to Harvard. Of course,” you repeated laughing, exaggerating the snobbish drawl of his affected accent. You swung your other leg over his lap to straddle him and peck a playful kiss to his lips.

His green eyes returned none of your mirth as he observed, “You always mock me, and then act as if it is affectionate.”

Your teasing grin fell. A hand lifted to his cheek. The other remained cozily nestled in his hand, but the fact that he didn’t melt into your touch proved how irritated he was.

“Oh, Frederick,” you cooed. “You are ridiculous sometimes”—he must know that about himself, right? The glower he returned suggested, in fact, he did not—“And I love you.”

Your last three words hung in the air and heated his face under your palm. He stared back at you unblinking, some of the hardness evaporating from his eyes at those words. It felt like hours waiting for a reaction before he swallowed thickly.

“Oh.”

He added nothing further than that oh. Though you supposed falling in love was inevitable for soulmates, it was the first time you’d said it out loud, and you itched for more.

“Well?” you nudged. “Are you… happy to hear it?”

“No.” His brow furrowed.

The blunt rejection felt less like a slap to the face and more like leaning back in a broken reclining chair and finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling from the floor. You had expected something different.

“You chose to say it now to avoid blame for insulting me; that is hardly kind. But what should I expect? You… you—” His entire face began to twitch: eyes narrowing in thought, suddenly going wide, then narrowing again. Then he looked at you almost mournfully, the softest, most tender expression clouding his eyes.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking about it like that. I just thought you were so cute—”

“No, no, no. This—this is not right. None of this is right. It is more than that.” He stood and began pacing the room. “I have been bothered by things for some time, but I chose to ignore them”—he cast a pained glance back at you—“because I wanted to believe it was true. But this makes no sense. Why would you love me?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Of course I love you. We… we’re soulmates!”

He barked a dry laugh. “That is the only reason, is it not? Because we were told we were soulmates. How can we be sure we are?”

“Michael said—”

“Ah yes, Michael said. Naturally, we can trust Michael, the supernatural being we know nothing about.” His heel scuffed on the marble floor as he pivoted in his jerky movements to face you. “Think rationally. The existence of soulmates is extremely doubtful. How could every person have a perfect match? Are humans created in pairs? What happens if one’s soulmate dies in infancy? Or speaks a different language?”

“Just because they’re unlikely on Earth doesn’t mean they can’t be made for the afterlife.” You convinced yourself even less than him.

“It is not just you,” he said wistfully, eyes casting over your seated form next to the hollow impression he left on the velvet. “I do not think this is even heaven. No one likes frozen yogurt that much.”

“I like fro yo,” you muttered in a small defensive voice.

“But you like ice cream better. Why are there a dozen frozen yogurt shops and not a single ice cream parlor? It was a clue in plain sight. This place is a mockery of paradise. Every moment we have expected a reward, it has been twisted into a punishment, or a… a test!”

You stared back at him silently. Your tongue went dry, and you realized your mouth was hanging open, paused on the brink of something to say—some retort that would explain everything. But none came.

“Pairing us together,” he announced one syllable at a time, regretting his next words, “was never meant to be a reward. It was a trap.”

“But you make me happy! Not every pair makes sense at first, but I love you. We’re in paradise—”

“I would never have gotten into paradise!” The last piece of the puzzle exploded from his throat, a shouted confession. The air went still. “Perhaps you would have,” he muttered, “but I do not belong in the good place.”

At last, you stood and joined Frederick, your hands finding his again. They were warm, and big, and fit yours perfectly. You understood, then. As long as you were holding onto him, you could face anything.

Even the truth.

You shook your head. “No. I never did anything with my life. I tried. I recycled and drove a Prius, but I was too shy to call senators about environmental policy—too afraid or too lazy to lobby for infrastructure changes. I never did anything significant to fight for what I believed in. If the good place only takes the best of the best… I never came close.”

Frederick squeezed your hand. “I thought—” his breath hitched “—I thought I did. I believed everything had been worth it in the end. I finally achieved something; my work earned the recognition it deserved. Of course it didn’t! At least I am sharp enough to see through their farce.”

“But… but you’re my soulmate.” You clung to him like the wreckage of a sinking ship.

Frederick was silent, but you could hear his words in your head: There is no such thing.

“But you make me happy,” you argued.

But he also drove you crazy. But anyone reading the transcript of your lives would have expected you to make each other miserable. If you hadn’t walked in on him by chance while he was sulking and taken pity, you really would have tortured each other.

“Holy fork,” you muttered. “Is this the bad place?”

“That is the most likely possibility,” Frederick whispered.

Fear crept up your spine. If everything was a lie, then what else couldn’t you trust? Who else knew? Who was in charge? Could you even trust Frederick? You took half a step back from his grip and watched him return your glare with equal suspicion.

He wasn’t your soulmate. He was just a man you barely knew anything about.

You lurched forward and re-entered the radius of his spicy cologne, comforted by the familiar scent and the familiar texture of his tweed suit under your fingertips. “Wh-what do we do?”

“I do not know.”

His arms closed around your back, and he held you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Hannibal imagines #my writing

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tuanyiems · 3 years

Text

The Spirit of Christmas

Jaebum x Reader holiday!au, roommate!au words: 2.8k

Plot: You are sugar and spice and everything nice and your roommate, Jaebum is coal—at least, that’s how it seems at first glance. With the pandemic and Christmas Eve coming to an end, maybe it’s not just Jaebum that needs a little Christmas spirit.

a/n – guess whose household got covid in time for Christmas? 2020 hates me lol anyways, I said I was going to post a Jackson holiday au but that was taking too long, I’ll post it next Christmas lmao here is jb and his kitties in the meantime <3 happy holidays folks, stay safe and merry and I’ll meet you in the new year

“What is that?” Jaebum looks at you incredulously as you carry an armful of green into his living room. You let it fall onto the floor, much to his annoyance and his cats’ pleasure. Nora flops onto her belly, rubbing against the green sticks.

“It’s our Christmas tree!” you grin, running your fingers through the fur of her belly and earning a nip to your fingers. You giggle at the tickle of her teeth on your thumb. Despite her feisty disposition, Nora very rarely ever bites for real.

“That’s a pile of plastic,” your roommate plops himself on the couch, feet thrown over the coffee table.

Your mouth twists as you push the ottoman closer to him with a gentle push of your fuzzy sock-clad feet. Jaebum glances at the bright yellow ottoman you brought into the apartment when he told you about a million times that the thing was a waste of money (and a neon eyesore). He then looks over at your feet looking awfully like a red stocking, and he truly does mean the awful part. He keeps his feet on the coffee table and leans back into the couch, arms behind his head.

“It’s a Christmas tree,” you emphasize, lifting his legs with a huff onto the ottoman. You dust your hands before placing them onto your hips. “And you’re going to help me put it up!”

He frowns, looking into your eager eyes. “Remind me why I moved in with you again?”

“Because I had a spare room and you needed someone willing to live with five cats,” you answer easily like you always do. You throw one of the plastic limbs at him. “Now come on, let’s get festive!”

“Your festive and my festive are very different,” Jaebum sighs, but he gets up anyways.

“Noted,�� you chuckle, clearing a space on the floor for him to sit beside you.

You grab your phone to turn on your playlist, lovingly titled “HO! HO! HO!iday Cheer” and immediately you can see Jaebum’s face sour at the familiar jingle as Mariah Carey’s voice echoes through the room.

“Oh, we’re going with my festive, just so you know,” you warn him belatedly. He blows at his bangs, shoulders slumping in surrender.

“Let’s just get this over with before my ears start bleeding,” he grumbles, grabbing hold of a couple plastic limbs.

“That’s the spirit!” you cheer, slapping him on the back. You don’t miss the small twitch of his lips.

You had a lot of hopes for this year, all of which pretty much went down the drain. That was life though, you rolled with the punches. But you certainly did not expect that when you opened your home to Jaebum and his five cats, that just two weeks after, he would be your only social life for the next nine months (if you didn’t count your biweekly grocery outings).

And while you have nothing against Jaebum—in fact, you absolutely love his five cats—it doesn’t take a genius to tell that the two of you are very different. Jaebum’s black on black fashion, motorcycle riding, sterling silver face piercing-self, next to your pastel, soft knit cardigan-wearing, always smelling like bread and daisies…the two of you are a walking metaphorical neon sign flashing “opposites!”

“Why does that matter? He’s going to be my roommate, not my husband!” you had shrugged Jinyoung’s warning without a second thought.

That memory would come back to bite you during the first three months of shared living, for every time he woke you up from his random 3am showers or played horror movies in the living room right before your bedtime, and especially whenever he responded to your silly jokes with a deadpan face or worse, his unrelenting despondency.

Over time though, you learned how to read him—like how he was nicer after a cup of coffee or how he has trouble sleeping but always manages to fall asleep on the living room couch when you’re baking bread in the open kitchen. You’ve learned that when Jaebum scowls, it’s mostly just a reflex and actually, if you can catch a reflection whenever he’s looking away, usually he’s smiling. And although he will grumble about it the entire way through, if you ask for help, he will always be there (even when he tells you he won’t).

Maybe you both express yourselves differently. You say “I love you” and he will ask “Did you eat yet?” You bake cupcakes and have teatime on the porch with the older neighbors, Jaebum installs cameras and buys extra essentials whenever you go grocery shopping together. You fill the windowsills with abandoned plants and bring them back to life, Jaebum leaves cat food and old blankets in your backyard for the strays.

No one else understands when you tell them you think you and Jaebum might be the same person, but they haven’t seen him the way you have over the last nine months. Beneath his hardboiled exterior is a sensitive soul who loves quietly and cares a lot.

“There’s no point in putting this up,” Jaebum grumbles as he fits another limb into the trunk of the tree. “No one’s even gonna see it, it’s already Christmas Eve. Anyways, the Christmas party is canceled.”

“You will see it. I will see it,” you hand him another part. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

“It’s a waste of electricity,” he adds, not even glancing at you.

“The lights I bought have a timer!”

“And then it’ll be more work taking it down again.”

With a pout, you stand up and Jaebum turns his head in surprise.

“Where are you going, it almost done?”

Your frown easily twists back into a smile, seeing the way he hurries to put the last limb into the tree. “Time for the decorations!”

Jaebum rolls his eyes and looks down again and you can just tell he’s hiding another smile. You hurry off into your bedroom to grab the supplies.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!” you sing as you reenter the living room and Michael Bublé’s voice rings from your phone. Twirling in an oversized pajama pullover (which might be Jaebum’s that got lost in your laundry three months back), you settle the box of ornaments on the floor. “I’m so excited to show you!”

He looks at you blankly, waiting for you to continue.

You squeeze your shoulders together, excitement barely contained as you reach into the box and pull out an emerald velvet pouch.

“It came in the mail just in time!” you grin, clutching the bag to your chest.

He lifts his brow at you, but the rise of his cheekbones gives him away.

“Ta da!” you squeal, pulling round orbs out of the bag. “One of my co-workers has a side business making custom ornaments and I got one for each of the cats!”

“Woah,” Jaebum takes one of the ornaments into his palms, eyeing it closely.

You bite your lip, holding in a satisfied giggle lest you ruin the moment. He sits quietly, admiring each ornament of the cats. When he gets to the last one, you pull out one more orb from the bag, holding it up by its gold, glittering string.

“And I got one of us too,” you say quietly, showing it off to him.

He slides closer, nose practically touching the ornament. It’s a simple, clear bulb and inside are your figurine versions, dusted with glittering snow around a Christmas tree.

Finally, Jaebum breaks into a smile, eyes disappearing into crescents. You find yourself letting out a breath you had been holding.

“They even got my cheek piercings,” he chuckles, pointing to the tiny orb. “And your derpy smile too!”

“Hey, my smile isn’t derpy!” you whine, smiling.

“It’s cute,” he adds and you falter, wondering if he means the ornament or your smile. But in true Jaebum fashion, he doesn’t explain himself and turns back to the cat ornaments. “This is really well made.”

You ignore the pulsing in your chest, nodding your head. “Yeah, I told her she should raise her prices.”

He gets up from the floor and offers you his hand. “Let’s put them up.”

Cheeks flushing, you let him help you up.

“Do you think it’s okay though? The cats might knock them down,” his brows furrow with worry.

You chuckle, grabbing the ornament from his hand and hang it off the tree. “Pretty things are meant to be shown and if it breaks…then we’ll get new ones!”

Jaebum rolls his eyes at your optimism but a small smile stretches across his face. “I think your co-worker would be offended to hear how you treat her work.”

You shrug, crouching down to Nora and Odd as both cats swat at the ornament hanging precariously off your finger. “Art should not belong behind glass walls. They’re meant to be seen and enjoyed, like your music!”

You giggle as Odd jumps into your lap, pawing at the shiny orb as you lift it out of reach each time. You miss the way Jaebum looks at you.

“Okay, less playing and more decorating,” he replies, throwing a string of gold tinsel at your head, much to the cats’ delight. You laugh at their excitement, glancing at Jaebum’s reddened ears.

Humming to the Christmas jingles, you stand alongside Jaebum, dressing the plastic tree in glittering ornaments and lights. Once in a while, you even catch Jaebum swaying to the music when he thinks you aren’t paying attention.

“Aaand,” Jaebum lifts the shining star from the box to you and you rise onto your tiptoes.

“Done!” You cheer, placing the star on the top of the tree. You clap gleefully, elbowing Jaebum to follow. He gives you three limp claps before you give up and crouch down to Odd instead, forcing the kitty to clap paws.

“Okay, can I go to my room now?”

“Not yet!”

He groans, plopping onto the couch. “What else is there left to put up?”

You pout, hands on your hip. “We can’t have a Christmas tree without the Christmas tree lighting ceremony!”

He sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “There’s a ceremony?”

“Of course there is!” you laugh, rushing towards the light switch. You flick the switch without warning, covering the living room in darkness.

With only the light from the streetlamp peeking through the windows, the falling snow is even more visible. The sight fills you with childlike excitement.

“Are you ready?” you whisper, walking over to the switch for the Christmas lights.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“We need to count down,” Your lips jut out at his indifference as you eye his dark figure. In the darkness, you can just barely see his features, but you imagine he is rolling his eyes at you.

Just as you are about to give in, you hear him sigh loudly, “Five,”

You break into a smile, “Four, three, two,”

“One…”

“Merry Christmas!” you sing, twisting the knob and flooding the room with small twinkling lights.

But you don’t look at the tree. Instead, your gaze remains in Jaebum’s direction and you watch as the lights illuminate his face. And you are pleased to see he is smiling. You know it’s just the reflection of the lights, but he looks like he has stars in his eyes.

Sensing your gaze, Jaebum looks at you and frowns, embarrassed. “What?”

You smile, cheeks warming. “Your cheek piercing looks like it’s twinkling from here.”

“Don’t be weird,” he scowls. “Are we done now?”

“Do you want hot chocolate?” you offer, moving over to sit next to him on the couch.

He shakes his head, getting up. “I’m going to bed.”

Chuckling, you let him leave, watching as the cats follow behind him. “Merry Christmas, Jaebum!”

“It’s not Christmas yet!” he yells back before you hear the sound of his bedroom door closing shut.

With a quiet sigh, you grab your phone from the coffee table and turn off the music. The silence feels even quieter with only the lights from the Christmas tree flickering around the room. Without anyone else in the room, your energy quickly depletes.

Outside, the snow whips by in flurries.

This is not how you imagined you’d be spending your favorite holiday, although the festive lights do make you feel a little bit better.

You wanted the Christmas gatherings though.

You were a family person through and through.

You missed it all—the packed house, cooking dinner with the aunties, playing board games with the little cousins, throwing said boardgame across the room when you rage quit, making up for it with freshly baked cookies that you’d nibble on at midnight while opening gifts by the Christmas tree. You even missed the nagging from your parents, asking when you’ll get a boyfriend and settle down.

Snuggling closer into the arm of the couch, you hug yourself.

It’s colder this year.

Emptier.

“So, you turn off the Christmas music after I leave?” You jump in surprise at Jaebum’s voice entering the room again. He takes a seat next to you on the couch. “You listen to it just to annoy me, don’t you?”

You blink back, wondering why he returned. “Did you forget something?”

He shrugs, leaning back into the couch and gazes at the Christmas tree. “It’s my first Christmas tree, I thought I should look at it a little longer.”

“This is your first Christmas tree?” you look at him in surprise.

He nods nonchalantly. “Never really celebrated Christmas.”

You sink into your seat, thigh touching his. “What a year to start celebrating.”

“Only because you have me hostage.”

You chuckle softly. “Well, I’m glad you had no choice but to be stuck with me. Would’ve been a lonely year without you here.”

“Hmm,” he looks at you thoughtfully. “Never pegged you as the lonely type.”

“The holidays can do that.”

“Then just think like me, pretend it’s any other day.”

You sigh, leaning into Jaebum. He doesn’t scoot away like he normally does. Instead, you find his arm resting around your shoulder.

“I don’t want this to be any other day though. This whole year has been a blur of any other days.” Your lips jut out in a pout as you look up at your roommate. “I know I must sound like a child, but I want Christmas.”

Jaebum laughs softly. You can feel the rumble of his chest.

“Cute,” he mutters, and you flush. His arm around you pulls you tighter. “Then, do you want to open your present at midnight or in the morning?”

Your eyes widen and he laughs at your expression once more. “You got me a present?”

“Well, yeah,”

“But…you said you don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“But you do,” he answers easily, looking at the tree again. “And anyways, if you’re gonna make me do all the work, I might as well celebrate the whole thing, right?”

You grin, poking his chest. “Admit you had fun tonight, Jaebum.”

He shrugs, smiling. “The ornaments were cool. I’ll be the DJ next time though.”

“Deal,” you beam, holding out your pinky. You giggle when he looks at your outstretched pinky with an arched brow. You keep your hand raised though. “Come on!”

He lets out a loud breath but eventually curls his pinky around yours.

Your heart warms, seeing how big his pinky measures around yours. It’s why when he moves to let go, you keep your pinky curled.

Laughing at his confused frown, you show him your thumb. “You have to seal the promise, Jaebum!”

“You’re an actual five-year-old,” he groans.

“Yes, I am,” you grin, eyes curling into crescents. His tone doesn’t faze you. From up close, you can confirm that there are indeed, stars in his eyes. They twinkle in amusement at your gesture and his lips lift once more when his thumb presses against yours.

And this time, he doesn’t pull away.

Pursing your lips shyly, you let your hand fall to his lap.

Looking back up at him, his gaze is soft on you. You pretend not to notice the way his fingers thread around yours.

“To answer your question, I’d like my present at midnight.”

“As you wish. Then shall we make hot chocolate and watch a movie until then?”

“Sounds like the perfect Christmas,” you tell him softly.

“Okay, Joker or The Dark Knight? You can pick.”

You grin, squeezing his hand. “We’re gonna watch Home Alone, Jaebum.”

“You’re terrible,” he feigns.

Chuckling, you let go of his hand and rise from the couch. “I’ll go make the hot chocolate.”

Jaebum grabs your hand again and you turn back curiously.

“Hm?”

His thumb brushes the back of your hand gently.

“Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Jaebum.”

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #im jaebum #holiday au #roommate au #fanfic #fluff

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