FNAF movie Vanessa questions the power of remnant

To Be Human (Fanfiction) Part 2/?

Okay, okay, I'm sorry that this chapter is so long; in fact, it's the longest chapter I've ever written in the eight years I've written fanfiction, but I really wanted to start writing the boys in the Human World next chapter, so I had to write pretty much all of the setup for them to get there in the past two chapters.

And yes, I realize some parts are confusing (if you need clarification, let me know), but I promise that there are a lot of things that I'm going to clear up in the next few chapters, so fear not!

As always, you can read this story here on AO3.

Title:

To Be Human

Summary:

When a mysterious force attacks the Devildom and destroys it, the brothers are forced to turn to their Father in the Celestial Realm for answers and assistance. However, the Almighty is still miffed at the seven due to their involvement in the Great Celestial War, and sends them to seek asylum in the one place they have yet to make their mark—the Human World.

Without the help of their beloved MC, the brothers must learn to assimilate into this strange new world, all while trying to figure out who is responsible for the destruction of the Devildom and take back their home.

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6812

First Chapter:

Read Chapter 1 here!

-

“Lucifer,” a voice called into the night.  “You awake?”

Lucifer closed his eyes and snuggled deeper under the covers.  He yawned and muttered groggily, “No.”

“Ah, okay.”  

He could hear Michael’s footsteps as the Angel of Destruction walked out of his bedroom.  As he closed the door, Lucifer heard the clanging of the doorknob falling to the floor. 

“Sorry, Luci,” Michael apologized, and Lucifer could imagine the sheepish smile on his face. “And sorry for waking you—I know you have to be in Father’s court early tomorrow.”

Lucifer mumbled incoherently in reply and attempted to once again be overcome by the throes of sleep.  However, guilt weighed upon his chest for sending the angel away, and he called, “Michael, wait, come back.”

A moment later, he could see Michael’s silhouette at the threshold of the door.  His wild black mane of hair had wound out of its ponytail, and his silky off-the-shoulder sleepshirt had well, slipped off his shoulders.  In his arms, he held a well-worn capybara plush, for even adult angels needed comfort in the form of stuffed animals sometimes.   

Lucifer raised himself off the bed and rubbed his eyes.  “What was it you wanted?”

“Well, I … you know that dream?”  

“The nightmare, yes.  Did you have it, again?”

There was no reply from Michael, and Lucifer sighed.  “Come here.”  He beckoned toward his new housemate, but Michael didn’t move forward, and instead, stared at the ground.  

Lucifer shook his head.  Although this living situation was new for the both of them, Lucifer was determined to make the best of it, for his Father had wanted His two most powerful Archangels to live together for some reason.  It seemed, though, that the Angel of Destruction’s history of being shunned by his fellow angels for his destructive tendencies had left him quite socially awkward. 

He pat his bed.  “Come here, Michael,” he repeated.

Hesitantly, Michael shuffled forward, and Lucifer saw his grip on his capybara tighten.  “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me.  Come sit,” commanded Lucifer.  

The two sat in silence for several minutes, neither knowing what to say.  From the corner of his eye, Lucifer saw that Michael hugged his plush to his chest and stared into his lap, his eyes wide in fear.

He must still be spooked by his nightmare, Lucifer realized.  He cleared his throat.  “Would it make you feel better if you slept here with me tonight?”

Instantly, Michael scooted away from him, to the point where he nigh fell off the bed.  He waved his hands in the air with a nervous smile.  “No, no, no!  I don’t want to impose!  I—I’ll go back to my room!”

Lucifer shook his head and clapped a hand on Michael’s thigh.  “You’ll stay here tonight.”

“I … okay.”  

Lucifer scooted over and lay down on his bed, turning away from Michael to give him space.  However, the other angel whomped himself down right next to Lucifer, pulled him close, and draped his leg over him.

He couldn’t help but feel the tiniest blush flush over his face, as he mumbled, “Just … don’t break the mattress or anything.”

Michael, who had already begun to snore, could only mumble, “Occu … pational … haz … ard.”

A small smile bloomed on Lucifer’s face and he gave a deep sigh as he closed his eyes.  His last thoughts before sleep overtook him was how much the House of Great Elation felt like home with the Angel of Destruction around.

“How much longer?” Mammon whined as the four demons with wings carried their three flightless brothers higher and higher into the sky.  “My wings are startin’ to get tired.”  

Asmodeus nodded.  “Yeah, and flying through these clouds is getting me all wet.”  He let out a gasp.  “Holy Father, is this how girls feel when I look at them?  Oh, this isn’t pleasant at all!  Ow!  Belphie, stop kicking me!”

“Whoops,” replied the seventhborn demon drily.  In fact, he had been the one to ask Beel to fly him over Asmo so he could land a couple of solid kicks to his brother’s head if he ever got too obnoxious.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at their antics, trying to hide the smile that blossomed on his face.  “If we keep flying a little higher, we should see the Celestial Realm’s precipice in a few minutes.”

Satan looked down from where he hung on Asmo, and his eyes widened when he saw how high up they were above the decimated Devildom.  “You six fell all this way when you were kicked out of the Celestial Realm?”

Lucifer could feel a storm form in his mind when he thought of that day—the day his Father had decided the He had had enough of His problematic children and hurled them out of house and home.  He grit his teeth and answered darkly, “Yes.”  He glowered for a moment before pausing and turning down to stare at Satan.  “You were there when we fell, too.”

“I remember that,” said Beel, frowning.  “We were all hurtling toward the Devildom and suddenly you just appeared.”

“Completely naked, too, if I may add,” giggled Asmo.

Lucifer sighed.  There was no way he could forget that day.  It seemed like just yesterday that Father had thrown him, Lilith, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor out of the Celestial Realm.  

He remembered that he had been cradling Lilith, who’s breaths were getting shallower by the moment, in his arms.  He had flapped his wings furiously to slow their descent, although the sheer force in which they had been thrown was too strong for him to counter and fly all the way back up, even if he wanted to.  Mammon had been carrying Levi as he was now, and Beel was, as usual, flying with Belphie, while Asmo flew beside them.  The five of them had closed around him and Lilith, staring in horror at their dying sister. 

Lucifer remembered his eyes filling with tears as he looked at Lilith, and all at once, the anger and wrath at his Father that had once plagued him so greatly dissipated, and it was replaced by an overwhelming fear for his sister’s life.

It was at that moment when a blond, naked figure appeared falling next to them.  The figure had the appearance of a grown man and stared at the group with blank, blue-green eyes.  

Together, they stared at the new creature and a puzzled dispute went among them as to where he had come from.  Lucifer didn’t know the man’s origins, but he knew that if he was brave enough to fall with them, then he was worth protecting.  He reached out an arm toward the man, who simply stared at him before taking it.

It wasn’t long before they realized that this person had been borne out of Lucifer’s wrath, and they gave him the name “Satan.”

“Ah, I think I see the Celestial Realm.”  Leviathan pointed upward a minute later toward a massive sphere of light that resided on the clouds a few miles ahead of them.

Mammon squinted.  “Just like I remember it—too damn bright n’ too damn shiny.”

“And here I thought if it weren’t for your Father, you all enjoyed your stint in the Celestial Realm,” said Satan.  “At least, Asmo tends to go on and on about how much he en—”

He was cut off when Asmodeus pinched his wrists and hissed, “I can and will drop you, Satan.”

“Don’t drop him, yet, Asmo,” said Lucifer, stepping onto the cloud cover that made up the ground of the Celestial Realm.  He stared up at the huge, pearly gates, which lay several feet in front of him.  “We’re here.”  He peered ahead, squinting at the two Gatekeepers who stood sentinel in front of the gates to ward off unsavory company.

“Is that who I think it is?” Levi asked, his eyes widening.

Mammon’s jaw dropped.  “Since when was Simeon a Gatekeeper?”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows.  When he had last been in the Celestial Realm, Simeon had been his fellow Archangel, and one of the most powerful angels ever created.  What was he doing in the position of a lowly Gatekeeper?

“Isn’t anyone worried that Simeon guarding the gate will make it harder for us to get through?” Beel asked.  “We know what he’s like.”

“Faithful and just.”  Asmodeus yawned.  “How boring.  Oh, well, at least he’s pretty.”

Lucifer pursed his lips.  Beel was right: the fact that one of the Gatekeepers of the Celestial Realm was a friend of theirs made this whole endeavor much more awkward.  Sure, the six brothers were notorious in their former home simply due to their involvement in the Great Celestial War, but they themselves weren’t friendly with any of the other angels anymore.

Nevertheless, he shook his head.  “We have to go in, and if that means going through Simeon, then so be it.”  

“Wait—what do you mean ‘go through Simeon?’” asked Satan.  He raised an eyebrow when he made the connection.  “Oh, you don’t mean … ?”

Belphegor nodded, a strange smile forming on his face.  “We’re not allowed in the Celestial Realm, so the only way that we can get in is to knock out the Gatekeepers.  Those pearly gates over there are the only way in and out of the Realm, and they’re the only ones guarding it.” 

“Yep, it ain’t gonna be pretty, but it’s somethin’ we’d decided on a while ago if we ever needed to come back here,” Mammon added.

Lucifer sighed.  It had been their plan for centuries, now, but knowing that Simeon would be one of the angels that he needed to render unconscious in order to get into the Celestial Realm caused a pit to form in his stomach.  “Perhaps we should try to be diplomatic—at least, at first.”

“I don’t know,” mumbled Levi.  “If videogames have taught me anything, it’s always best to attack first and ask questions later.”  He looked again at the Gatekeepers in front of them and frowned.  “But I guess since this is real life, maybe we should talk to them first and see if they’re willing to bend the rules and let us in.”

“Ha,” Mammon laughed, as Lucifer led his brothers toward the pearly gates.  “An angel willin’ to bend the rules.  That’ll be the day.”  

He, as well as the others, quieted down as they made their way to the front of the Celestial Realm’s gates.  Lucifer sighed, falling privy to nostalgia as he stared through the pearlescent bars at the place he had once called home.

“Lucifer!”  Simeon exclaimed, beaming at the group.  He held a hand out toward his fellow Gatekeeper, who had whipped out his Sword of the Spirit at the sight of the seven intruders.  “Stand down, Sorath.”

Sorath gave Simeon a frown in disgust.  “Are you kiddin’?  You know who these are, right, Simeon?  Sinners!  The lot of ‘em!  Father threw ‘em down for a reason, y’know!”

“And you sir, are lovely, as well,” Lucifer replied, giving the other Gatekeeper a patronizing smile.  He turned toward Simeon, but before he could speak, the angel pulled something out of his pants’ pocket and handed it to Beel, who raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Simeon laughed.  “I remember how you always loved manna cakes, Beel, so I kept one in my pocket in case you ever decided to visit here, again.  Granted, it’s over four hundred years old, but you know food doesn’t spoil in the Celestial Realm, so it should be alright.”

Beel grinned back and greedily took the cake from Simeon’s hand, munching on it immediately.  “Thanks, Simeon,” he mumbled between bites. “I haven’t eaten since we evacuated the House of Lamentation, but I’ve been too worried to complain.”

Simeon’s jaw dropped.  “Evacuated?   Did something happen?”

Lucifer stepped forward.  “That’s what we’re here for.  We need to speak to Father, immediately.”

“Absolutely not!” Sorath bellowed, swinging his Sword wildly.  “Demons ain’t allowed in the Devildom, much less you six … er …” He did a headcount and scratched his head in confusion.  “Seven?  Swear there were only six males last time.”

“Sorath.”  Simeon’s smile twitched a bit as if he was barely tolerating the other angel.  “I urge you to let me handle this.”  

Sorath frowned but sheathed his Sword.

However, when Simeon turned to the seven demon brothers, his smile fell and he sighed sadly.  “Sorath is right, I’m afraid.  I can’t let you pass these gates.”

Lucifer frowned.  If Simeon wouldn’t let him and his brothers into the Celestial Realm peacefully, they would have to resort to their original plan, and seeing Beel happily crunching on the manna cake Simeon had given him made him really not want to do that.  He decided to try one more tactic.  “If you’re worried that Father will be angry with you for defying His orders, don’t worry, we’ll take the blame.”

Simeon sighed, considering the offer.  “Tell me what happened first.”

Mammon stepped forward.  “There’re all these weird earthquake things goin’ on in the Devildom—which is bad ‘cause Satan says earthquakes aren’t possible in the down there ‘cause of tactical plates or somethin’—”

“— Tectonic plates,” Satan corrected.

“—And all these black fires sprung up, too, in the House of Lamentation and they ain’t natural.  Diavolo’s missin’ and his Castle’s been destroyed by the flames.  We’re thinkin’ someone in the Celestial Realm had somethin’ to do with it,”  Mammon finished.  

Simeon looked shocked.  “That’s impossible!  Sorath and I have been guarding these gates all day—no one who isn’t supposed to leave has gone in or out.”

Belphegor shrugged.  “Humans can’t typically access the Devildom and the only ones who would mess with demons are angels, so whoever started the fires and is responsible for the quakes must be from up here.”

Lucifer nodded.   “We need to speak to Father and get to the bottom of this.”

“What happened to the rest of the demons in the Devildom?” Simeon asked, ignoring Lucifer’s request.

“We assume that most of the lower-level demons fled because of the quakes—they aren’t strong enough to withstand them—and that some were crushed in the wreckage,” answered Satan.  

“And the House of Lamentation?  You said you evacuated it?”

Leviathan scratched his neck.  “To be honest, we didn’t stick around to see what had happened to it; I think, “ he looked around at his brothers, “it’s probably been destroyed with the rest of the buildings in the Devildom.”

Simeon groaned and ran a hand down his face.  “I can say without a doubt that this wasn’t the work of an angel, but … I suppose this is serious.”  He stepped aside and pushed open one of the gates as Sorath stared at him, aghast.  He turned back to the brothers with a stern glare.  “You promise you’re here simply to speak with Father?  And not to incite any kind of drama?”

“Yes,” answered Lucifer truthfully.  “All we’re here to do is have an audience with Father.  Nothing more.”  And with that, Lucifer and his brothers walked into the Celestial Realm for the first time in what seemed like forever.

However, before they could make it more than a foot past the gates, Simeon put a hand out to stop them.  

A collective groan went up from among the group.  

“What now? ” wailed Asmo.      

Simeon locked eyes with Lucifer, who could see the worry pooling in them.  “Lucifer, are you sure that you want to enter this Realm?  I see that you still have Michael’s Mark of Destruction on your forehead, and I assure you, he very much still recognizes it as a symbol of his promised annihilation.”

Lucifer ignored the fearful looks that went up among his brothers and nodded.  “Let him come.”

“Oh, wonderful, another Celestial Realm story I’ve yet to be told,” Satan complained.  “What do you mean, ‘a symbol of his promised annihilation?’”

A silence went up from among the group and Satan raised his eyebrows as all the current and former angels looked to the ground and didn’t meet his eyes.  

Lucifer, who was not so concerned with the black diamond that afflicted his forehead, but rather the long-since forgotten story that went along with it, spoke up.  “You remember Michael, Angel of Destruction, yes?”

Satan nodded.  “Luke’s idol and your boyfriend from the Celestial Realm.”

Asmodeus, Belphegor, and Mammon snickered as Lucifer blushed.  How did so many people come to such a foolish conclusion?  It was a thought that plagued him constantly when he told others of Michael; was it not clear that the pair shared solely what many called a “bromance?”  

“I—no.  Don’t be ridiculous.  As it were, Michael is a powerful angel, so powerful that Father gave him the title of Archangel, as he did for me.  However, I wager that Michael surpassed even me in power,” Lucifer explained.

“Easy winnings, considering Lucifer as an angel was pretty lame,” interjected Mammon cheekily.

Lucifer turned toward his younger brother with a glare.  “And yet somehow I managed to overpower you at every turn.”  He rolled his eyes and continued, “Now, where was I?  Yes, Michael was the extremely powerful Angel of Destruction.  However, Michael was an incredibly peaceful angel, for he believed that his title has cost him more than it gave to him.  As a passive soul, it did not bode well with him when Father made him General of His heavenly legions.”

“Typical Father,” Belphie spat, “putting people into positions that they don’t do well in and then blaming them when they fail.”

Simeon was quick to defend his master.  “On the contrary, Father put him in charge of the armies and gave him the title of Angel of Destruction because he had no desire to destroy, for He knew that putting a more volatile angel in that role could cause unnecessary destruction.”

“Whatever the case may be,” Lucifer explained, “Michael wanted everyone to know that he was careful in what he destroyed—perhaps even to teach them a lesson in caution, so he developed a symbol in the shape of a black diamond to mark upon those he believed that deserved to be destroyed.  That mark can only be passed when the pommel of his Sword of the Spirit is pressed upon the skin, and it lasts there until he destructs whatever is marked.”

“Wait—” Satan interrupted.  “That black diamond on your forehead in your demon form … that’s Michael’s Mark of Destruction?”

Lucifer bowed his head.  “Yes.  It symbolizes a promise that the next time that he and I meet … he will destroy me.”

“Which is why I’m hesitant to let Lucifer into the Celestial Realm,” admitted Simeon.  “Sorath and I let Michael out to do his rounds in the Human World several hours ago, and there’s no telling what time of the day he’ll be back.  And if he arrives to see Lucifer …”

“He’ll have to fulfill the marking he made on me that day,” Lucifer finished.  He bit his lip.  He knew better than anyone that Michael was an angel of his word … but they really did need to get into the Celestial Realm to talk to Father.  

He looked around at his brothers, who stared back at him with eager eyes.  He knew that despite their tendencies to say the most idiotic things, when the chips were down, the six were quite eloquent and would no doubt be able to take a stand in debates with their Father.  However, Lucifer knew that the only one with any real leverage with the Almighty was him, considering his past as an Archangel granted him great favor with the King.

He sighed. 

He had to go in.

Lucifer walked past Simeon and farther into the Celestial Realm.  “Your concern is very kind, Simeon, but it’s imperative that my brothers and I see our Father.”  He turned behind him to ensure that his brothers were following him and nodded.  “If Michael finds me and wishes to challenge me, then so be it.”

“Wait!” Simeon cried, running after the party, eliciting another round of groans.  He panted as he reached them before holding up a finger and saying, “If you’re to go to Father’s Palace, you’re going to need someone to escort you.”

Leviathan raised an eyebrow.  “Uh, we know where His Palace is.  We’ve lived here before!”

“Yeah, we know our way around the Celestial Realm,” agreed Mammon.

“I know,” Simeon affirmed, “but for sure the Palace guards aren’t going to let you in by yourselves.  Having me along might help the process go smoother.”

The Palace guards, Lucifer realized.  He had completely forgotten about the angels that defended their Father’s home.  He massaged his temples.  “I guess it would be better if you came along with us.”

Simeon beamed.  “Sounds good.  Walking there together will also give us a way to catch up on the little things.”

“Oh, goody,” Belphie muttered under his breath as the group waited for Simeon to signal to his fellow Gatekeeper that he was leaving.  Sorath rolled his eyes and turned back to stand sentinel before the Celestial Realm’s pearly gates.

Despite Simeon’s desire to “catch up,” the party of eight walked in silence through the gold-paved streets, which were completely empty.  

“Where is everyone?” queried Satan, raising an eyebrow at the deserted city.  “This looks just like the Devildom before we left, save for the fact that everything in the Celestial Realm hasn't been destroyed.”

It was Belphegor who answered, “Everyone’s usually busy during the day.”  His voice dropped low as he grumbled, “Slothfulness is highly discouraged in the Celestial Realm.”

Beel shuffled closer to him.  “Don’t worry, Belphie, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to rest.”

“Speakin’ of wanting to rest,” Mammon began, “you retire from bein’ one of the Archangels, or somethin’, Simeon?”

“How could you do that?” asked Asmo.  “You’re wasting your good looks on a job as humdrum as Gatekeeping.”  

Lucifer watched Simeon’s omnipresent smile flicker at the question.  Clearly this was a sore subject for the angel, and he could see why.  Archangels were innately mighty beings, and it was for that they were given their titles.  Gatekeepers, one of the subclasses of Guardian Angels, were angels that were weak and not much use to the Father, except for guarding the gates.  Going from almighty Archangel to lowly Gatekeeper was a long way for an angel to fall in prestige.

Simeon sighed and fiddled with the grip of his Sword of the Spirit, which was slung in its sheath across his hips.  “I … didn’t retire.”

The seven brothers stopped in their tracks.  Lucifer could feel his jaw drop.  “You—you didn’t retire?”  That could only mean one thing … “Father renounced your title of Archangel?”  

“What?  Why would He do that?” Mammon demanded.  “Ya were always so good at doin’ that whole condescendin’-but-kind Archangel thing!” 

Suddenly, a horrible thought crept into Lucifer’s mind, and if it was true, he really was glad that they had decided not to pummel Simeon.  “When … when did this happen?”

Simeon wouldn’t meet his eyes.  “A few hundred years ago.”

“A few hundred years ago?” repeated Satan.  He surveyed his ex-angel brothers.  “You mean around the time of the Fall?”

When Simeon didn’t answer, Lucifer ran a hand down his face and groaned.  “Simeon, don’t tell me that you lost your position because of us.”

Simeon looked up, biting his lips.  “Someone had to tell Father that kicking His children out of their home and disowning them isn’t proper discipline!”  He paused to regain his composure.  “After visiting you all in the Devildom for that exchange program all those years ago made me realize that it was there that you were truly happy, but back then, I couldn’t believe that.  I thought it was unjust and unmerciful of Father to throw you out of the Celestial Realm for the War, and I told Him that to His face.”

Lucifer sighed.  It was just as he suspected.  Poor, stupid, naïve Simeon.  Poor, truthful, honest, Simeon.  

Belphegor let out an unsympathetic laugh.  “You lost your high-and-mighty position sticking up for a group of rebels!”

Lucifer tactfully stepped on Belphie’s foot to shut him up.  Although the action had the desired effect, the seventhborn scowled at him and returned the favor with double the force.  “That really wasn’t necessary, Simeon, but, I’ll admit it’s nice to know that someone has our backs up here in the Celestial Realm.”

The angel nodded.  “I’d do it again,” he declared valiantly.  “But I suppose that’s enough chitchat, for we’ve arrived.”

Indeed, the group now stood at the foot of God’s Palace.  The gargantuan structure was bigger than any building in the Devildom and was thrice as fine.  

The Palace was built with massive marble bricks and the mortar that held them together was molten gold (and somehow maintained its structural integrity).  Rare gemstones adorned the hundreds of entryways and the roof was composed of an entire sheet of diamond.  There were no windows in the Palace, for what was the point of natural light when the actual Light of the World resided inside it?

Lucifer stared at the edifice in awe, for despite seeing the Palace thousands and thousands of times, he’d yet to overcome the amazement that someone would build something so tacky. 

“Talk about overcompensating,” Asmo muttered.  

Simeon led the group toward the main entrance, where two Palace guards stood sentinel.  They frowned and immediately unsheathed their Swords of the Spirit with a growl when they saw the seven demons trailing behind Simeon.

However, they stood down and bowed their heads when the angel held out his hand.

Lucifer nodded appreciatively; it seemed that despite being relegated to Gatekeeper, Simeon still commanded the level of respect he had when he was an Archangel.

As the brothers and Simeon walked into the Palace, the seven demons were forced to stop and take in all the splendor.  Lucifer had to admit, despite the gaudiness of the exterior of Father’s Palace, the interior design was sheer perfection.

Rose gold columns broke up the immense foyer, which was covered in white-and-gray dappled tiles.  Enormous rose quartz chandeliers hung from the ceiling and glittering sconces adorned the walls.  Two staircases, railed in marble, were the centerpieces of the room, and Lucifer knew all too well where each led: to the left was Father’s Hall of Judgement, and to the right was His Throne Room.

“I forgot how gorgeous the heavenly aesthetic was,” Asmodeus said, dreamily taking in the beauty of the room.

Lucifer noticed from the corner of his eye that Mammon had floated upward and was unscrewing one of the sparkly sconce covers from the wall.  “Mammon, get your grubby paws off of that,” he hissed.  “Do you want us to get kicked out already? ”

“C’mon,” Mammon grumbled, reluctantly rejoining the group empty-handed.  “Do ya know how much those’d sell for?”

Simeon smiled tolerantly.  “Lucky for you seven, Father isn’t holding court today and is in His Throne Room.”  He bowed his head.  “This is where I must leave you, though.  Going inside to meet Father without being summoned is a grievous offense, and I’d rather not stir the beast if I can help it.”  He looked at Lucifer square in the eye.  “I trust that you will be alright.”

Lucifer nodded and reached out a hand toward Simeon, who shook it amicably.  “Thank you for your help.  We couldn’t have made it this far into the Celestial Realm without you.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Mammon concurred, and the other five chorused their gratitude, as well.

As Simeon walked away, Lucifer surveyed his brothers and nodded.  It was time for them to engage their Father for the first time in several centuries.  

The group walked stalwartly up the staircase, and from among them went a nervous grumble.  

“Anyone else havin’ second thoughts?” asked Mammon, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple.  

Leviathan bobbed his head, frowning.  “I am.  I feel like we’re about to have the final boss fight of our lives.”

Lucifer hated this—it didn’t make sense for children to be this afraid of their father, especially one who claimed to be so loving and good as theirs.  He knew that deep down inside, he too, was frightened to the core of their Father, but damn it, it wasn’t right. Where was the love in all this fear?

“Here’s the door to the Throne Room,” Lucifer announced, as the group arrived.  The door was built for giants, towering above their heads—a symbol that they were about to enter the chamber of the King of Kings.  He turned to Satan.  “You’ve never been here, before.  You do the honors.”

Satan raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue.  Taking a deep breath, he gripped the handle of the door and closed his eyes.  After a moment of silence, he yanked it open.

Lucifer walked in first, his brothers in tow.  The band of demons kept their eyes low to the ground; they knew better than to stare at God Almighty in all His glory head-on.  

“My prodigals,” a voice thundered from before them.  

Lucifer tilted his head so he could glance at the glowing white blur that sat on the Throne.  While he had seen his Father’s corporeal, humanlike form several times, most of the time, He preferred to be shrouded in the pearly radiance of His glory, which was far too bright for even angels to look directly at.  “Father.”

“I see you’ve brought another of your number.  Come forward, Satan.”

He nudged Satan to walk forward, even though the fourthborn scowled at the eldest’s touch.  Lucifer watched as Satan stalked, shoulders slung back, toward the blinding light. 

“A purebred demon,” Father mused.  “Born from your wrath, I hear, Lucifer.”

Lucifer crossed his arms unapologetically.  “You truly do know all, Father.”

“And yet I shall ask: why have you seven gathered before Me today?”

He steeled his posture.  “We need to talk, Father.”

An amused hum came from their Father, and before anyone could respond, God dropped the radiant shroud of His glory, and the seven brothers stared at the unimposing, humanlike figure that now sat on the Throne before them.  

Lucifer sighed in relief; the “intimidation tactic” of covering Himself in His blinding glory so that no one could look at Him was less frightening and more of an annoyance, so he was glad that his Father had dropped the act.  Perhaps that meant He could be reasoned with today.

“Whatever about, My prodigal?” bellowed God.

He raised an eyebrow.  One of God’s fundamental traits that He was very proud of was His omniscience—the fact that He knew everything.  It was utterly deplorable when He pretended to be unaware.  

Lucifer had felt his confidence swell once Father had dropped His glory, and he stared at the manlike form of their Father in annoyance.  “Surely you know.”

Father glared at him with equal irritation.  “I assure you, prodigal, that I do not.  Simply because I possess omniscience does not mean that I make use of it all the time.  There are times when it’s more enjoyable to hear of things as they happen rather than knowledge of them prior.”

He grit his teeth.  Typical Father.  Always trying to make things more difficult than they need to be.  “Our home, the Devildom, has been afflicted by unnatural disasters and we believe someone in the Celestial Realm is behind it.”

His Father looked shocked.  “What?   Someone has been afflicting My Devildom?”

“Technically, the Devildom’s ruled by Diavol—” Mammon interjected.

He was interrupted by their Father, who barreled on as if he hadn’t said a word.  “No one in the Celestial Realm would dare lay a finger on any of My creations, the hellish Devildom included.”  

“You must understand,” Satan implored, and the six ex-angels internally facepalmed, knowing better than to demand the Almighty to do something.  “Humans can’t typically enter the Devildom until Judgement Day, and the only creatures with enough of a vendetta against demonkind to destroy them are angels.  There have been earthquakes which shouldn’t happen in the Devildom by all accounts.  Worst of all, there have been smokeless black flames popping out of nowhere, but only in our House—”

“Smokeless black flames?” their Father asked.  He pursed His lips and held out His palm.  On it suddenly glowed an image of the same dark fire that had shown up in the House of Lamentation.  “Such as these?”

Leviathan’s eyes widened.  “That’s it exactly.”

“I knew the Celestial Realm was behind this,” Belphie spat.

“Unfortunately, Belphegor,” their Father breathed, His voice quiet all of a sudden, “you may be right.”  He closed His palm and the fire snuffed out.  “The flames which I just showed you all are a special kind of fire called Hellfire—it’s only to be used with My permission, and no one has asked of it since it was created, which is beside the point.  Hellfire is supposed to consume the Devildom once Judgement Day arrives and the damned souls of humans are brought into it.  This perpetually burning version of the Devildom will be called Hell, which is simply a pit of Hellfire in which souls are burned for all of eternity.  Therefore, I designed Hellfire so that it does not spread—it has no reason to, for all its surroundings will be Hellfire as well.  In addition, I created it so that Hellfire does not cause smoke, for what is the point of asphyxiation if those who are being tortured by it are already dead?” 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.  He supposed it was only natural for the Creator and Destroyer of Worlds to talk about death and torture so lightly.  However, he felt the need to point out something much more serious: “You said that Hellfire is supposed to consume the Devildom on Judgement Day.  There were no flames in other places in the Devildom besides the House of Lamentation.”  Suddenly, he remembered the burning remains of Diavolo’s palace.  “And the Demon Lord’s Castle.”

“And besides, it’s not Judgement Day, yet,” Mammon realized.  He gave Father a side-eye.  “Is it?”

Father shook His head.  “No, it’s not even close.”

“So, it’s not Judgement Day, yet Hellfire was spotted without Your permission in the homes of the Devildom’s most prestigious denizens?” asked Satan, his eyes lighting with interest.  “That’s incredibly suspicious.”

“Where is this Demon Lord of yours, anyway?” Father wondered.

Lucifer felt his heart drop to his feet, cursing himself for not thinking of Diavolo in the bustle of coming up to the Celestial Realm.  “We didn’t find him.” 

Mammon, who had seen the distraught look on Lucifer’s face, turned to their Father.  “Maybe Ya could use that impotence of Yours an’ find him?”

Even Lucifer had to crack a smile at Satan’s irritated correction.  “Omnipotence, not impotence!  And besides, He’s going to use His omniscience to find where Diavolo is.  His omnipotence is what He’s going to have to use to get you to shut up.”

Their Father nodded and closed His eyes.  A moment later, He opened them.  “I was not able to find the Demon Lord Diavolo.”

“What?”  Lucifer demanded, his fingers curling into fists.  “You’re supposed to be the Almighty God!  How can You not find him?”

The Almighty shook His head and repeated, “I was unable to find him.”  He rubbed His chin.  “It’s almost like he ceased to exist.”

Lucifer couldn’t believe his ears.  Cease to exist?  What did that mean?  His Father controlled all possible reality; how was it possible that He was unable to locate Diavolo?  Before he knew it, his breaths were coming in quick and shallow, and he began to feel lightheaded.  

“Whoa there, bro.” Mammon gulped as he caught his elder brother before he toppled to the ground.  “I know this looks bad, but c’mon, we’ll get through it.”

“Yeah, maybe Diavolo’s just been kidnapped and brought to an alternate universe that Father doesn’t control,” Belphegor consoled, although he couldn’t help the absolutely devilish gleam of hopefulness at the prospect in his eyes.

“Impossible,” their Father boomed.  “I created the fundamentals of existing.  Nothing can do so without Me.  I control and know of all channels of existence by default.  Although …”  He stroked His chin.  “There is sometimes a way to hide such information from Me.”

“There is?” Asmo asked.

Lucifer lightened considerably upon hearing that information.  Perhaps there was hope for Diavolo after all.  “What do You mean?”

“I told you earlier of how My omniscience works, correct?  As in, I have the capacity to know all, however, that doesn’t mean that I know all at all times.  If I want to know something, I must inquire of My omniscience. I am the only one who is able to access My omniscience, but if someone else were able to do so, they would be able to alter the information found in it.”

“Whoa, so what You’re saying is … someone can hack Your brain?” exclaimed Levi, his mouth agape.  “That’s literally straight out of an anime!”

“You have to ignore him,” Belphie told their Father drily.  “Levi is a godless, godless soul.”

Lucifer shook his head at the newfound information.  If what Father had described was truly what had happened, then they were in a lot more trouble than they thought.  How could someone access their Father’s omniscience?  What motive could someone have to hide information from the Almighty?  He gulped.  There was no way that this could end well.  

Suddenly, Satan gulped, his face ghostly white.  “I told you all earlier that it was suspicious that the Hellfire was found at both our and Lord Diavolo’s homes, considering all of us compose the Devildom’s government, but here’s what’s more worrying: whoever erased Father’s knowledge of Diavolo’s whereabouts is most likely the one who kidnapped him—which is what we’re believing for Lucifer’s sake, not that he’s dead—and since our house was also targeted, that means we’re next.”

Lucifer watched as the rest of his brothers blanched, becoming as pale as Satan.  He whipped toward his Father.  “Can You discern who is responsible for this?”

“It seems that that information has been taken, as well,” Father admitted, shaking His head.

Lucifer ran a hand through his hair, whether it was from frustration or fear, he didn’t know.  He turned toward Mammon, who looked at him with equally mixed emotions.  “Whoever it was that caused the earthquakes, tore up the Devildom, used Hellfire without Father’s permission, kidnapped Diavolo, stole information from Father, and is possibly coming after us … we can certainly take them on … right?”

Mammon scratched his neck.  “I mean … I don’t know.  I think … I think honestly we should lay low for a bit before we consider gettin’ ready for some kinda confrontation.” 

“Lay low?  Lay low where?  The Devildom is just an amalgamation of lava fissures and rubble now,” said Satan.

“The Celestial Realm?” Asmo suggested.  “I mean—I mean, it’s not like I want to stay here or anything, but if we can’t go back home …”

“Absolutely not,” their Father barked.  “The Celestial Realm is for angels.  You seven lost the privilege of living here centuries ago.”

Lucifer swallowed his rage at his Father’s tone, remembering that the safety of his family was on the line.  “Okay, Father.”  He took a deep breath to calm himself once more.  “Then where do You expect us to go?”

His Father tapped His hands together and hummed, before snapping His fingers.  “The Human World.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” reasoned Satan.  “That’s the last place anyone would think to look for us, especially since we’re able to blend in well.”

“Are ya crazy?  We can’t make it as humans!” Mammon argued.  “Just tryna feed Beel alone would blow our cover.”

Belphegor looked thoughtful as he said, “If we asked MC for help, they could probably help us assimilate into the Human World.”

“No,” Lucifer decided.  “We are not bringing MC into a situation as dangerous as this.  And besides, the exchange program ended over forty years ago; I’m sure MC has moved on with their lives.”

Six demon faces fell at his words, and he had to admit, he was quite saddened by them, as well.  However, it couldn’t be helped.  There was no way he was going to bother MC with this situation.  

“So it’s settled, then,” their Father decided.  “Tomorrow I shall send you and a few provisions to the Human World for your own protection.  Meanwhile, I hope that you seven shall help Me in deciphering who is responsible for this whole debacle.”

Lucifer stared at his Father pensively.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about working with the Almighty, again, but he supposed that it was better than working against Him, as before. 

He nodded.  “Sounds like a plan.”  

Lazy Rainy Day

"You're still in bed," Michael mumbled, voice still thick with sleep.

It had taken a moment or two for him to blink sleep out of his eyes enough to be sure he wasn't imagining things. Gerry rarely lingered in bed - unless Michael specifically requested it on a day Gerry was feeling more lazy - he was far too restless for that. Usually Michael woke up to an empty bed and noises from the kitchen, maybe some music and off-key humming, if he was lucky.

Today he woke up to Gerry's face pressed against his chest, one arm holding Michael close. He was clearly awake, fingers drawing nonsensical patterns on Michael's back. He sighed, looking up at Michael's face, "It's been raining all morning. I didn't feel like getting up."

Michael chuckled softly, "I wasn't calling you out," he ran his fingers through Gerry’s hair, relishing the satisfied little sigh Gerry released at that, "’Was just surprised."

The rain was hitting the bedroom window gently, a soft drumming against the glass. If he'd listen hard enough it would probably put him to sleep again. It sounded like the perfect day to not get out of bed at all, from what he could tell. He sighed, wrapping his arms around Gerry and burying his face in his hair. It smelled nice and warm and Michael nuzzled it.

"Slept well?", he mumbled into Gerry's hair, unsure if the words were even discernible, but sure Gerry got the sentiment. Michael always asked first thing in the morning - or whenever it was that he got his ass out of bed.

"Yeah. You?", Gerry mumbled in return, closing his eyes again.

Michael hummed in affirmation and ran one hand through Gerry's hair again because Michael could never stop touching it, especially not when it was freshly washed and soft as silk. Gerry would probably complain about the fact that he'd have to wash it soon again if Michael went on like this, but he felt far too comfortable. The motion was making him sleepy and he didn't see the point in fighting it. They had no plans for today. Gerry dozed off again.

He didn't know how long he'd been out but came to to the same sensation of Michael's fingers running through his hair. Which, considering Michael, could mean he'd been asleep for another couple hours. There was no light peaking through the curtains, though that had been the case all day so that didn't really help. Gerry was starting to feel hungry. He didn't want to move.

Michael pulled away a bit so he'd be easier to understand, "It's very nice here right now but I think I'd like a cup of tea."

"'m hungry," Gerry sighed, untangling from michael and rolling unto his back.

Michael chuckled, "It's okay, you don't need to get up, too. I'll fetch us something and bring it here, alright?"

Gerry turned his head to face him, "You don't have to."

"I want to, though." He pressed a gentle kiss to Gerry's cheek before getting up and stretching himself.

He walked to the window and drew the curtains back. It was grey and dreary outside, one of those days where it was hard to tell if it was morning or afternoon. Michael smiled, opening the window to let in some fresh air.

"It’s cold," Gerry complained, burying himself under the blankets.

"We can close it in a moment. Just airing out the room a bit. Do you want tea or coffee?"

"Tea’s fine," Gerry mumbled from under the covers.

Michael nodded and left the room for the kitchen. Moving in together had done little to make the small space any less cramped, but Michael was used to it by now. It was home now. He made tea and prepared some food. When he put everything on the tray and made his way back to the bedroom, he heard some shuffling noises from within. Gerry probably had gotten up to close the window.

He hadn’t. Gerry was, indeed, no longer buried under the blankets but apparently he had decided to solve the cold problem by putting on one of Michael’s sweaters, rather than closing the window. One Michael actually hadn’t seen in a while, with a wavy pattern in all kinds of blues and greens.

He raised an eyebrow, “Where did you find that sweater?” Michael set the tray down on the bed, locking its legs in place, before going to the window and closing it. “I was half-convinced I lost it.”

“It was between my stuff. It’s one of the softest,” Gerry yawned, pushing the too-long sleeves up and arranging himself so he was sitting comfortably and in the range of breakfast.

Michael slipped back under the covers next to him, “So what you mean to say is you stole it on purpose?”

He pressed a kiss to Gerry’s cheek. He looked too cute, eyes still sleepy and hair slightly mussed in the too-big sweater with too many colours compared to his usual attire. His eyes fluttered close and he leaned into the kiss for a moment, and Michael was sure that somewhere, it was illegal to be this adorable.

Gerry sighed when he pulled back, “Not initially…”

“I...what does that even mean, Gerry?”, Michael laughed.

Gerry took a piece of the cut apple on the tray and started nibbling on it, “Well, I don’t know how it got in my stuff in the first place. But I didn’t feel like telling you it was there.”

Michael grinned and took one of the mugs from the tray, “So, what are the chances of me getting it back now that I know where it is?”

Gerry leaned his head against Michael’s shoulder, “Zero.”, he stated matter-of-factly.

Michael chuckled and put one arm around him, running his hand down Gerry’s side. It was his softest sweater. But he guessed this was a fine way to experience that softness, too. Maybe even a better way than actually wearing it. Now that he thought of it, Gerry had always been extra cuddly when Michael wore it. Michael was doubting the ‘accidental’ part of the stealing. He smiled as he started carefully drinking his tea.

Gerry had volunteered to bring the tray back into the kitchen, and came back with the book Michael had seen him glance at longingly in the window of the store for so long he had bought it for Gerry a couple days ago. Gerry had continued longingly looking at it on the shelf in the living room since he hadn’t had much time to read. Now he looked at with the giddy excitement he seemed to reserve specifically for a new book. Michael waited until Gerry settled back into bed comfortably before laying down, head in Gerry’s lap and the rest of his body rolled up so he wouldn’t awkwardly hang off the edge of the bed.

“Is that comfortable?”, Gerry mumbled, brushing some stray hair out of Michael’s face.

Michael only nodded and smiled. Gerry seriously doubted that, but Michael did not look like he wanted to reconsider his position, so Gerry shrugged and leaned back, opening the book to start reading.

Gerry was squinting at the pages when Michael looked up at him.

“Gerry, maybe you should just put on your glasses,” he chuckled, reaching up to smooth the crease between Gerry’s eyes with his thumb, “Not like anyone’s going to see you here.”

Gerry made the closest Michael ever saw him get to a pouting expression, “You can.”

“Well, I think you look great in glasses, what’s the problem?” Michael raised an eyebrow, brushing Gerry’s hair behind his ear.

“You might get used to it and convince me to wear them more.”

Michael laughed, “That’d just be a win on every side, Gerry. You were told you should wear them more, if I recall correctly,” Gerry pulled a face at that. Michael caressed his cheek, “Come on, you’ll be able to actually focus on the book rather than literally trying to focus your eyes. They’ll get sore.”

Gerry looked at him, squinting again. Since he had been focussing on the book for so long it took him a moment to adjust. He sighed, taking Michael’s hand and pressing it to his lips before gently laying it back on his thigh. He tried to stay as put as he could as he reached for the glasses on the nightstand, that hadn’t been touched in about a week. They were a bit dusty so Gerry cleaned them with a sigh - another annoying thing about them - before putting them on. He blinked a couple times, trying to tell if he was seeing any better with them, or if they were still dirty.

Michael sighed dreamily as he looked up at him, and Gerry couldn’t quite tell if he was exaggerating or not, since Michael sighed a lot, and Gerry often couldn’t tell which ones were just dramatic and which were genuine. His smile was genuine, though, warm and enamored, and Gerry felt his cheeks warm up and buried his nose back in his book. Michael chuckled, before yawning and closing his eyes, curling up just a bit tighter. Gerry brought one of his hands to Michael’s hair, running his fingers through it and playing with the curls while he read. It didn’t take very long before Michael was nodding off.

He awoke from something wet against his cheek and it took him a couple moments of confused blinking to realise he was drooling. Onto Gerry’s sweatpants. Michael shot up so quickly he nearly knocked the book out of Gerry’s hand, but before he could apologise his stiff neck made an awful cracking noise and he hissed in pain.

Gerry looked confused and slightly worried. Michael had been sleeping quite soundly and he hadn’t noticed anything wrong, or he would have woken him. Then again, Gerry had been mainly focused on his book, so maybe he had missed some kind of twitching or something indicating a bad dream, “What happened? What was that? Are you okay?”

Michael nodded, this time more careful, “Yes, sorry I spooked you. And, uh...sorry I drooled on you.” His cheeks were turning a slight red as he tried to clean the rest of the drool off his face.

Gerry knit his brows, “Is that what got you to sit up so quickly? Michael, it’s fine,” he chuckled, putting his book down and pulling Michael into his arms instead. He cleaned the rest of the drool off Michael’s face with the sleeve of his sweater. Michael just blushed a deeper red, looking away to hide his embarrassment. Gently, Gerry brought his fingers to Michael’s chin and turned his head back to face him. He pressed his lips to Michael’s for a short, sweet kiss. “If it were a problem I would’ve woken you up. Is your neck okay? That sounded quite bad…”, he mumbled, bringing his hand to the back of Michael’s neck and gently rubbing circles into it with his thumb. Michael sighed, leaning into the touch.

“I think so...I just moved a bit too fast,” Michael mumbled, still embarrassed.

Gerry grinned, “I suspected you were lying about that being a comfortable position.”

Michael looked at him, pouting, “It was a comfortable position!”

“Your stiff neck begs to differ, Michael. Turn around.”

Michael furrowed his brows, “What? Why?”

“I’ll give you a massage.”

“You know how to give massages?”, Michael looked equally intrigued and uncertain.

Gerry shrugged, “We’ll find out. Come on, turn around.”

Michael hesitated another moment before turning his back to Gerry and putting his hair up into a messy bun.

Gerry brought his hands to his shoulders and gently started kneading them. “Too much pressure?”, he asked after a moment, realising that he couldn’t really tell that himself.

Michael shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he sighed, leaning into the touch a little, “You can probably do more, if you want.”

“If I want? I don’t think that’s how this works, Michael,” Gerry chuckled, applying a little more pressure to his movements. The sigh Michael let out sounded content, so he carried on, occasionally running his thumbs up the back of Michael’s neck, to where his hair started, and back down again, rubbing circles into muscle on the way. Michael hummed appreciatively, craning his neck to give Gerry better access. Gerry smiled.

“This feels really nice…,” Michael mumbled after another moment of comfortable silence.

“Are my massaging skills approved, then?”

Michael nodded, “But I’m keeping you from your book, Gerry,” he turned around to look at him, “It’s fine if you want to get back to it.”

Gerry let go of him when he turned, “I think my eyes are appreciating the break.” He grinned.

Michael smiled, “They probably are.”

He gently cradled Gerry’s face before leaning in to press their lips together in a tender kiss, thumbs caressing Gerry’s face. Gerry returned the kiss, running his fingers along Michael’s arms, leaning closer. Michael pulled away, then, and removed Gerry’s glasses carefully and putting them back on the nightstand, where they would undoubtedly be catching dust for a while again. Then, he pulled Gerry into his lap and kissing him again, lovingly. Gerry hummed into the kiss and buried his fingers in soft curls, and soon they were laying down, a tangle of limbs, exchanging lazy kisses.

“We should probably make dinner,” Gerry mumbled as he pulled away from kissing Michael’s jaw.

Michael blinked at him lazily, “We didn’t even have lunch, Gerry.”

“I think you slept through lunch,” Gerry teased, wrapping a loose curl around his finger.

Michael smiled and kissed the tip of Gerry’s nose, “No, I think you slept through it.”

Gerry chuckled, “Well, I’m getting hungry.”

“I’ll fix us something quick.” Michael pulled away, sitting up and shivering slightly at the loss of warmth.

Gerry sat up, too, “I’ll help.”

“Who’s going to keep the bed warm, then?”, Michael asked with a small chuckle.

Gerry hugged him, rubbing his arms, “It’s more important to keep you warm.”

Michael blushed slightly and Gerry pressed a kiss to his temple before getting out of bed and pulling Michael to his feet and towards the kitchen.

They moved slowly as they cooked, neither of them in a rush to get somewhere for once and relishing in the lazy calm that came with that fact.

“I think this is nearly done, do you want to get the laptop ready?”, Gerry mumbled after a while, looking into the pan.

Michael put the last of the cleaned dishes away and nodded, yawning, “Where is it? Haven’t seen it today…”

“Living room. Coffee table,” Michael nodded and turned to leave the kitchen, but Gerry stopped him, “Don’t forget the tray, or it’ll die on us again.”

“Ah, right…,” Michael mumbled, taking the tray from the counter and going to pick up the laptop before shuffling back into the bedroom with both.

Gerry followed soon after with their food bowls, sitting down next to Michael, who took the offered bowl with a ‘thanks’ and a short kiss, before settling back and starting to eat after hitting play on the laptop. They ate and watched in silence, both reaching the point where sleep was starting to sound appealing again. They finished their food and put the bowls on Michael’s nightstand, which was surprisingly empty for once, since he had cleaned all the miscellaneous items that accumulated on there over the week the day before. Gerry wrapped his arms around Michael’s arm when he sat back next to him and buried his face in his shoulder.

Michael smiled, bringing his free hand to run through Gerry’s hair, “I assume that means you don’t want to watch another episode?”

Gerry shook his head, yawning into Michael’s arm.

“Well, if you’d let me remove the laptop from the bed we could lay back down…,” Michael said, amused.

Gerry sighed and let go, putting the laptop down on the floor next to his bed, before laying down and pulling Michael down with him.

“You’re going to step on it one of these mornings…,” Michael mumbled as he wrapped his arms around Gerry and pulled him closer.

Gerry pressed his lips to his forehead, “I’m not as clumsy in the morning as you are, Michael.” He said it with a grin, equal parts teasing and affectionate.

Michael felt his cheeks starting to burn and tucked his head unter Gerry’s chin to hide it. Gerry chuckled, running his hand through Michael’s hair and down his back. He pulled the covers up so they’d cover Michael’s shoulders before closing his eyes. Michael slipped his hands underneath the hem of Gerry’s sweater, cool fingers coming to rest against warm skin, and sighed. Gerry shivered, but smiled, rubbing gentle circles into the back of Michael’s neck with his thumb. It was difficult to tell which of the two fell asleep first.

First Sight: A Sole Ender Fic

Summary: Ryan tried hard to ensure he was never seen without a mask. And if that failed he always kept an extra eye patch on him. The recent stint with the FAHC had turned onto a permanent partnership and Ryan knew he would have to either tell the crew about his "condition" or they would find it themselves. Sadly it seemed that the latter would be the case as a stray bullet decided.

It was a simple job really. Go in, kill a man, steal some data for Gavin, then leave. They had planned and over planned to hell and back. It was an easy job.

But when was anything ever easy or going to plan with the FAHC? They lived and thrived on chaos and uncertainty. It was part of the reason Ryan even accepted the offer to join permanently.

As the Vagabond working alone, he made his own fun. But it always felt hollow, being alone felt hollow. Though it was all Ryan had known for a long long time. The experiments never left room for socializing not when it was only Ryan in a room with a bunch of Pricks.

Still it was nicer to hear others groan at bad puns or laugh at cheesy one liners while storming a bank or glaring down an enemy. It was, nice. Odd, and a learning process for sure but damn if it wasnt nice to have something like a family. Which was why he was extra careful.

Ryan knew that the experiments he survived left their mark. Black and purple veins or skin patches were easy enough to hide with make up. Avoiding water was disguised as a quirk, though for bathing Ryan made absolutely certain to run the shower while he wiped himself down with wet wipes. Not ideal but it got him clean enough. As for teleporting and staring well... he made sure if he did teleport no one saw, and the crew thought he was leaving his sparkles around to annoy Gavin. He was able to pass off his hatred and anger towards staring and eye contact as personal and the crew respected that.

But he could not hide the eye. His left eye had morphed into something else decades ago, right at the beginning of the experiments. His right eye was blue and looked perfectly normal. His left... it had no whites, just black ink and a large nearly matching purple pupil. It moved on it's own sometimes, something Ryan never fully figured out how to stop. And it watched everything. It showed the weakest points in objects, where Ryan could just pluck a cube from whatever it was. It showed veins and important artery locations in a potential victim. It was a culmination of everything the fucks back at the Program had wanted.

But Ryan hated it. Seeing the samn thing not only hurt, but infuriated him. Even decades later it made him feel weak and helpless. And worst of all, it was like a brand. Impossible to hide without heavy cloth or armor, its eerie black glow seeping through everything else. Ryan was only just starting to settle with the FAHC he was actually starting to enjoy himself. Like hell he was going to let something as stupid as an eye fuck that up!

But he knew, eventually he would have to tell the crew. It was either that or they would find out... It had been a simple fucking job and of course that would be where it all unraveled.

"Turn left! Left you Dolts!" Gavin's voice cracked over comms as Jeremy and Ryan sprinted through the corridors of the former safe house. A trail of bloody foot prints spread out behind them as they sprinted down and through the halls. The lights flashed red and an alarm blared loudly.

They hung a left, Jeremy skidding a little as he went.

"How the Fuck did we miss that camera? I thought the system was down!" Jeremy growled as the two rounded another corner. Ryan had pulled out a shotgun and held it close and ready as they raced for the exit.

"Bastards probably had a separate system. But that would mean they expected company." Ryan offered lowly so that the comms heard him but not those around him.

"Shit! Take cover!" Gavin shouted over comms as the battle Buddies finally reached the exit.

Jeremy dove down and Ryan jumped back into an open door as several shots fired past them. Jeremy crawled into the closet with Ryan, cocking a pistol.

"Fuck, how many Gav?" Jeremy asked.

Ryan popped his head out to return fire and popped back in as the sounds of bullet tearing flesh ripped through the blaring alarms as blood oozed out over the floor.

"I caught sight of 3 total. One is down so 2 left." Ryan supplied as Jeremy nodded and ducked out to shoot.

Ryan silently cursed, he could teleport, but he never teleported with someone, itd likely kill Jeremy if he did. But perhaps he could get behind the enemies...

There was a loud crash from the opposite end of the hall and a curse from Gavin.

"Hurry up! They have back up coming!" Well fuck. Ryan pulled a bewildered Jeremy into the Closet and shit off his comm.

"Stay here and please dont ask any questions." Ryan practically begged. Jeremy nodded quickly and gasped when, with a Vwoop! Ryan vanished leaving a small shower of sparkles.

Ryan appeared behind the first man, knife out and swinging. The blade dug into the back of his neck as a groan caught the other man's attention. As Ryan pulled the knife out he teleported again, letting the first fall limp and struck out at the other's neck as he pulled out of his teleport. A quickl slash and the throat was cut and the man fell.

Ryan only had time to barely catch his. Breath as sharp pain ripped through his left eye and the world went white for a moment. When the world partially swam into focus Jeremy had Ryan slung over his shoulder and was making a beeline out the exit. Tyan couldnt quite hear what he was saying and didnt get the chance to figure it out as he drifted into painful unconsciousness.

Jeremy had to say that he figured the Vagabond was weird. Tucker wore a mask for everything and the few times the media even got a glimpse of them without it they had a fucking eye patch and face paint! But then he joined the crew and it became apparent that the Vagabond was like the rest of the crew, weird, pissed, and chaotic as fuck. So sure, Jeremy expect quirks from Ryan.

Then the Motherfucker went and teleported in front of him! Jeremy still wasnt sure if that was what actually happened or if it was the adrenaline playing tricks on his eyes. Then a bullet struck Ryan in the eye and Jeremy didnt have time to think.

He ran out and grabbed his teleporting Battle Buddy and sprinted for the getaway vehicle. Jack was waiting outside and sped off the moment both boys were in the car.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Gav fo we have anything back at base for Bullets in eyes?" Jeremy asked desperately over comms. Gavin scrambled on the other side muttering this and that.

"Well get the fucking bullet out first before we get there we might actually be able to do something then!" Jack called from the front as they sped out onto the highway.

"Fuck! You're serving all over the place you think I'm going to be able to dig a bullet out like this?" Jeremy snapped.

"Just fucking try!" Jack shouted, as they swerved around an eighteen wheeler.

Jeremy cursed and began to remove Ryan's mask and then his eye patch

"Sorry buddy." Jeremy whispered as he lifted the patch and frozen. "Oh what the shit?!"

"What? If he is missing an eye dont gawk!" Jack scolded.

"He's not missing an eye but its janky as dicks! Its black and purple and shit." Jeremy shouted as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to dig a bullet out of his friend's ... uh... eye.

"Thay sounds unhealthy." Jack deadpanned as the car pulled into the headquater's garage. Once stopped jack came around to the back. "Alright move the fuck over you useless-Holy fuck you weren't kidding!"

"Yeah! No shit!"

"Whatever move! I'm getting that bullet out." Jack said, Shoving Jeremy out the otherside of the car. Jeremy yelped as he hit the concrete and popped back up, his eyes catching a patch of black skin peeking through smudged make up.

"Got it!" Jeremy tore his eyes back to Jack who was holding up a bullet covered in a thick black liquid with swirls of red dripping within.

"Great, now help me get this fuck inside." Geoff said jogging up to Jack from behind Jeremy. Jeremy was still frozen as the two Gents carried Ryan up to his room. Gavin and Michael approaches Jeremy.

"The fuck has you spooked?" Michael asked. "He's a tough fucker. Ryan'll be fine."

"Dude did you see his fucking blood? Its black! His eye is purple and moving on it's own! He fucking teleported!" Jeremy exclaimed. "Either that all just happened or I'm fucking high as balls. Neither outcome is good."

Gavin shrugged. "Well, do drugs we all see that."

Gavin pointed to the car where a small pool of black and red flecked blood glistened in the lights. The three lads stared at the pool in silence until michael spoke.

"Well son of a bitch."

Ryan came to in a bed. His own at the penthouse. He blinked a few times feeling the sting of a healing wound in his left eye as he did so. Having super human healing paid off more than it didnt.

Ryan sat up hand raising up to his face, expecting a mask or eye patch... only to meet fresh bandages.

Panic hit Ryan like a truck.

"Shit." Ryan cursed loudly as he went to stand only to flop over the side of the bed. "Fucking healing fatigue. Fucking legs, fuck!"

"Well good to see you're awake." Geoff's smooth drawl was cracked with stress and exhaustion.

The man was slouched against the door frame a cup of tea in hand. His hair was a mess and his eyes had bags that looked like they were dripping down his face

Ryan turned his face from Geoff's feet down to the floor on which his gave rested. A grumble was released into the floorboards then Ryan slowly picked himself back up onto the bed, his left eye still covered. Geoff shot him a knowing look as he stepped in and closed the door.

"Gavin and the lads are with Jack in the Kitchen looking for an update on you. Figured I'd be the first to talk to you." Ryan huffed as Geoff spoke with more authority than Ryan liked. It sounded too familiar.

Like a Scientist trying to get answers.

"Alright no need to growl asshole Jesus fuck." Geoff held up his hands in mock surrender and Ryan felt his shoulders relaxing a little.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Ryan hissed. "But I'm not some specimen to interogate."

"Well that answers that." Geoff said and Ryan tensed again. "Fuck right look I'm pretty sure a glowing black and purple eye ball ain't natural and yes we saw it you had a bullet in your eye and we didnt know it would heal on it's own. Dont care about that if you want it to stay covered it can stay covered. I'm more curious about Jeremy saying you fucking teleport."

"I can only teleport myself. Itd kill anyone else." Ryan said sheepishly as a sigh of relief escaped his lungs. "I can also take cubes of shit out of anything."

"People to?" Geoff asked, Ryan nodded. "Holy fuck what the hell kind of experiment were you a part of?"

Ryan shook his head and Geoff nodded.

"Right later if ever. Moving on, you alright?"

"Just tired. Healing takes a lot of energy." Ryan explained and Geoff nodded.

"Need water or anything?" Geoff offered and Ryan shook his head again.

"Burns. I'll just go out myself..."

"You sure? I'm sure the guys all have a million fucking questions." Geoff said as Ryan slowly rose up.

"Better now than later." Gwoff laughed.

"Fucking true. Though I have one more question." Ryan sighed.

"Shoot."

"Those sparkles Gavin's been collecting, do you make those?" Ryan laughed.

"When I teleport, Yeah. Dont know how or from where. But I do know Gavin has been using them on his nail polish and and eye shadow." Geoff busted out laughing as the two walked out into the penthouse living room. The lads shot up with Jeremy racing up to Ryan with Gavin close behind. A million questions poured out. But it was good.

You’re The Only Reason Why - m.c.

Summary: Ashton wants to clap alien cheeks, Michael wants to find meaning

Words: 2k

Warnings: none

Dedicated to the beautiful and courageous @dontdoitluke

Touring the United States was something they all enjoyed. Touring in general was something each of them enjoyed, actually. For Michael, something felt different about this tour. He wasn’t sure what exactly made this tour so special, but he felt like each show had been better than the last. Not a single bad show, not a single thing he would change. “Pack it in, boys. It’s a long ride from Colorado to Oklahoma.” Katt said, ushering the boys onto their bus. “We’ll see you in Oklahoma City.” She waved them off and closed the bus door.

“How far is the drive?” Ashton asked, settling into the couch.

“Google says 10 hours.” Luke answered, climbing into his bunk. “No one bother me for 10 hours.” He said, pulling his curtain closed.

“Only bother you for 10 hours?” Michael joked. “I’ve got more than enough planned.”

“Liar. You’re gonna sit on the couch and play Fortnite.” Luke scoffed and pulled his stuffed penguin out from under his pillow.

“Yeah, probably.” Michael chuckled, grabbing the controller. The ride began without a hitch. Luke fell asleep in his bunk, the penguin tucked securely in his arms. Ashton laid on the couch with his eyes closed and arms folded, his AirPods playing the latest true crime podcast. Calum sat in the back of the bus, quietly talking to his mother on the phone. Michael was having trouble focusing on his game, his eyes continuously roaming to the window where he watched the fields race beside them.

He finally set his controller down, turning to watch out the window. His chin rested in the palm of his hands as his elbows rested on the back of the couch. He was enamored with his view. Corn fields followed by bean fields, followed by more corn. It wasn’t often they got to see this part of the country, and it seemed only Michael cared to take it in. “The hell kind of road are we on?” Ashton asked, sitting up and pulling his AirPods out of his ears.

“Looks like rocks, but it’s very bumpy.” Michael said, still looking out the window.

“I believe it’s called gravel.” Calum said, joining the two of them at the front of the bus. The three of them looked at each other when a pop sounded from outside the bus.

“That didn’t sound good.” Ashton said, looking out the window with Michael.

“What happened?” Luke asked, poking his head out of his bunk.

“Sounded like a pop.” Ashton said, taking in his surroundings. The bus came to a stop, the four boys following the driver out to the road.

“3 flat tires.” The driver sighed, scratching his beard. “We only got 1 spare.” The driver shook his head and boarded the bus once more.

“We’re in the actual middle of fucking nowhere.” Ashton said, turning around slowly to look down the road.

“Corn fields..” Luke mumbled, subconsciously holding Michael’s hand.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.” Michael groaned, pulling his hand from Luke’s.

“Aliens is a very reasonable thought to be having right now.” Luke huffed, crossing his arms.

“Aliens aren’t real.” Calum said, standing next to Ashton.

“What was that?” Luke asked, the four of them turning to face the rustling that came from the corn stalks.

“Not aliens.” Calum said, though he sounded unsure.

“I’m gonna clap alien cheeks.” Ashton said, picking up a stick from the side of the road. The four of them huddled together as they saw a bright light coming toward them out of the corn.

“Aliens!” Luke cried, gripping Ashton’s arm.

“It’s not aliens, it’s a person.” Michael said, watching as a woman exited the corn, two chocolate labs at her side.

“Are y’all okay?” She asked, Michael’s heart racing as she came into view, the flashlight illuminating her features.

“Yeah, we’ve got a few flat tires.” Ashton answered, pushing Luke’s hand off his arm.

“Yeah, we heard the pops from the ranch. It spooked the dogs.” The woman said, her hand scratching the ears of the dog to her left.

“We apologize deeply to them.” Calum said, looking at the two dogs.

“Uh, my dad’s coming with the truck if you guys want to come back to the ranch with us. It’ll be a while before anyone can get out to fix the tires.” She said as headlights came down the gravel road.

“That’d be very helpful.” The driver said, coming off the bus. “I wasn’t able to reach the other drivers.”

“We’ve got spotty service out here.” She nodded as the truck came to a stop. She opened the bed, the two dogs jumping up. She climbed up behind them and sat on the edge of the bed. “We can fit 2 of you in the cab, the rest will have to ride back here with me and the dogs.”

“Dogs!” Michael and Calum said at the same time. The two of them climbed into the bed of the truck, sitting in the middle of it. The dogs immediately crowded them, licking their faces.

“I’ll sit up front with our man Roger.” Ashton said, patting their driver on the shoulder. Luke climbed into the back as Ashton and the driver got in the front.

“What are their names?” Michael asked, scratching the ears of the chocolate lab with two different colored eyes.

“That ones Maggie, the other is Bubbles. I’m Y/N, by the way.” She smiled, watching Michael and Calum with the dogs.

“I’m Michael, this is Calum. That’s Luke, and Ashton’s up front.” Michael smiled as Maggie licked his face.

“I’ve heard of y’all. You’re that Australian band.” Y/N smiled and the truck pulled off down the gravel road. “I love y’all’s song Fly Away. It’s a favorite of mine.”

“That we are.” Luke smiled and looked ahead down the road. The sun had just barely finished setting into the horizon, setting the sky alight in colors of violet and deep red.

“We’re headed to Oklahoma City, though we might be a little late.” Michael sighed softly.

“You’re only about 4 hours away.” Y/N giggled softly and Michael’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t help the smile that found his lips. They made it back to the ranch and Y/N led them all inside, showing them where they could stay for the night. “Are y’all hungry? We were just about to sit for dinner when we heard your tires pop.”

“Food would be lovely.” Calum smiled, “though we don’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, it’s no issue at all. Come join us.” Y/N smiled and led them to the dining room where her mother had added 5 extra plates. Everyone sat and ate, Y/N’s father telling the whole history of the ranch and the town. Michael felt as if he was going to cry as he listened. His eyes found hers and she offered him a simple smile, but it made Michael feel something he had never felt before.

After dinner, the four boys made their way back to the guest room. “We haven’t cuddled like this in years.” Calum said as they all laid in the queen size bed.

“It’s because we’re giants now.” Luke said, attempting to get comfortable. “I hope the bus gets new tires soon.”

“I don’t.” Michael said, staring at the ceiling.

“What?” Ashton asked, the three of them looking at Michael.

“This town, this family, Y/N. It feels.. right. I knew this tour felt different, and this is the reason why.” Michael said, looking at his friends. “It sounds crazy, but I think the universe wanted us to get stuck here so I could meet Y/N. She’s everything I’ve imagined my dream girl to be.”

“You need some serious help.” Calum shook just head. “You met her 3 hours ago, you don’t know her.”

“I know, but I want too. No, I need to know her.” Michael sighed and continued staring at the ceiling. “I’m leaving her a ticket to the Oklahoma City show. If she comes, I know it’s meant to be. If she doesn’t, I’ll let her go..”

Michael barely slept. He couldn’t get her out of his head. When morning came, he was scared to get up. He knew he’d have to leave and he knew he’d never see her again. By the time they were up and dressed, the bus had new tires and they were ready to get back on the road. “Thanks for all of your help, Y/N.” Michael smiled down at her.

“It was no trouble at all.” She giggled softly and rubbed his arm gently. “Have a safe trip to Oklahoma City and have an amazing show.”

“I’ll have a ticket with your name on it, if you’d like to come.” He said, his hand finding hers.

“I-.” She was cut off by Ashton’s call you Michael.

“Hey, let’s get going!” Ashton said, looking over at Michael.

“I really hope to see you there.” Michael pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and ran off to join the boys on the bus. He sunk down on the couch as the bus began its journey once more. He put his earbuds in and played his music as he looked out the window. No matter what song was playing, he thought of her. He’d give anything to see her smile or hear her giggle one more time.

20 minutes to showtime and her ticket was still sitting in the box office. He left her a front row seat in his section, but the seat was empty when he walked out on stage. He wasn’t himself and everyone could tell, the fans and the boys. He walked up to his mic as his turn to talk came. “Oklahoma City how we feelin’?!” Michael yelled and the crowd roared. He wanted to feel the pride he felt at every other show when fans would scream for him, but he felt empty.

“Mike, I think they can do better than that.” Luke said, trying to hype the crowd and his best friend. The crowd roared louder, the feeling of pride still failing to make itself known to Michael. He looked out at the crowd before taking his guitar off and setting it on the stage.

“Oklahoma City, I’ve got a confession to make.” Mike started. “I met the most amazing person in the world yesterday.” A small smile tugged at his lips as the crowd went crazy. “I don’t believe in soulmates, at least I didn’t until I met her.” Michael’s eyes fell to the empty seat in front of him before scanning the crowd again. “She’s given my life new meaning, and she’s given my music new meaning.”

“Michael..” Calum said, pulling Michael’s attention to the right side of the stage where his eyes met those of a girl trying to make her way through the row to her seat. A grin found his lips as she stood in front of her seat, her eyes shining in the stage lights. Michael couldn’t hear her, but he knew she was giggling that giggle that sets his heart ablaze.

“This song isn’t on the set list, but.. Y/N, this ones for you.” He picked up his guitar as Ashton began the opening of Fly Away.

Tag List: @lukespumpkinspice @calumculture @kinglycalum @babylon-corgis @novacanecalum @spookymashton @dontdoitluke @isabella10028 @calumamongmen @bumblebet-20 @lockthisheartinchains @bitterbethany @sublimehood @myloverboyash @ironicallyirwin @lashtoncurls @mukesreject @sanfrancjsco @boytoynamedcalum @opinionatedpisces-official @blahehblah @lukehemmings @harry-hallows-eve @findingliam-o @gh0st-0f-y0u-95 @i-calumhood @maluminspace @autumnalclifford

Hey uh... buddy Aiden x Mc 98? I think it would honestly be in character lol

“Not sure if you could tell, but I’m not exactly a people person.”

Aiden x F!MC (Grace Ashton)

Summary: Grace attends a party a few weeks after the start of school that Sydney is hosting when she gets there she hears that Aiden is by himself in the attic and decides to pay him a visit. A surprise visitor comes to pay them a visit.

A/N:  Requests are open! Rules here! Don’t know what to request?  Check out my prompts list found here also now accepting NSFW Alphabet (of age characters only)! A huge shoutout to @zig-a-zow for creating Callie and Grace whom are used and mentioned in this fic.

Thanks for reading hope you like it!

The song to go with the fic... Time After Time - Cydni Hauper

Grace glides through the crowd of people, the noise comes from every direction around her making her head pound slightly. Sure, she loved music and parties, she didn’t have the energy today, as her eyes scan the crowd for her best friend who lured her over with a text message about a cup of juice. She smiles at Callie as she walks up to her, taking the cup she extends to her instantly bring it to her parched lips and quenching the thirst she’s built up. With a satisfied sigh, she rests her hand on Callie’s forearm leaning in to hear her response to her question.

“Aiden, you seen him?” Grace couldn’t help the genuine small smile that pulls at her lips just mentioning his name. Callie nudges her with her elbow shooting her a teasingly scandalous look, before pushing her lips together into a thin line.

“I think-” She starts, thinking for a minute, “OH! Myra said he ditched to an upstairs room!” She nods her head settling her drink onto the table next to her and Grace, “Myra had that smirk on her face that she gets about you and Aiden, though.”

“So, you’re saying he doesn’t know I’m about to ruin his quiet time?” Grace asks, mulling over the statement. She couldn’t be entirely surprised, Myra did enjoy pushing people together, not just her and Aiden though. She saw the look she gives Callie and Michael, and she could only assume Callie noticed it as well.

“Pretty much.” Callie smiles, grabbing her drink off the table, “Michael wants to me to play a game or something with him outside, catch up with me later?”

“Sure.” Grace nods, parting from her friend who happily skips away to go find Michael. Grace shakes her head, pushing back her curls that fell into her face, as she goes in her search of Aiden.

It doesn’t take long for her to find him, the sound of a melody from a piano pouring down from the stairs leading to the attic, she stealthy sneaks up the stairs silently, planning to spook him. She holds her breath as she approaches Aiden who sits with his back to the door intently poised over the piano his hands moving faster as he keeps the beat of the song alive.

As he builds up to the crescendo Grace slams her hands down onto his shoulder, “I’M A GHOST!” She laughs as Aiden slams his hands into the key with a yelp. The piano roars an ugly noise as he brings a hand to his heart the other pushing down onto a group of keys trying to catch his breath, turning his head at Grace an agitated shocked look glossing over his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He asks, his breath labored lifting his hand from the keys using it to rest his head in his hands.

“The look on your face that’d make it worth it?” She offers with a grin, nudging him with her knee before sitting down beside him. She turns in her seat to face him, her smile growing on her face. “I wish I was recording, might get more hits than when I beat up Brian.”

“Ha, ha. Real funny.” He rolls his eyes, bringing down the piano keys cover carefully dragging his hands over the wood. “What are you even doing up here?” 

“What does it look like?” She jokes, “Scaring the shit out of you.”

“Real mature.” He sighs, resting his elbow onto the piano. “Seriously, why are you here?”

“What? You don’t want to talk to me?” She asks, slightly offended by his tone and direction of his voice, giving him a soft glare. He blushes under her gaze her eyes fixating on him skeptically. “Admit, you wanted me to come and be with you.” She shrugs, “I’m clearly amazing and you’re clearly bored.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly a people person.” He says nonchalantly, his eyes glossing over her. She nods, looking off into the distance thinking about his words, before letting her gaze fall back on him, him staring back. “But you weren’t entirely wrong.”

“Is that so?” She asks, raising her eyebrow at him, getting a soft eye roll, but smile from him. “Tell me all about how I’m never ‘entirely wrong’?” She lets out a soft chuckle as he turns his back to her standing up from the bench walking towards the corner of the room. Grace watches him for a few seconds on he blows onto an old looking music player. After a few seconds he grabs a basket off the floor full of old records before turning to face her again.

“Maybe I’m not entirely upset that you’re here.” He admits, turning his back to her, the clear crimson blush painted onto his cheeks. She grins as she stands from the bench approaching him. “I am not a people person, but I could be a Grace person.” 

“I could be an Aidens person then.” She smiles, stepping next to him, looking into the basket of records. Moving her hand to look at one at the same time Aiden goes to pick it up, their hands coming into contact, a shared glance lasting a mere few seconds before Aiden pulls his hands away clearing his throat.

“Go ahead.” 

She nods at his words, grabbing the album out of the basket, “She’s So Unusual.” She says mostly to herself flipping the record over in her hand. “My mom loves this song.” Grace smiles reading over the song titles. 

“Which one?” Aiden inquiries, peeking over her shoulder at the songs on the album.

“Time After Time.” Grace nods, “Want to listen to it?” 

“Cyndi Lauper.” Aiden says to himself clearly in thought for a second before smiling, “I would love to. I’ve heard positive reviews.” He shrugs, taking the record out of Grace hand stepping up to the record player, “You know how to use one of these?”

“Yeah. My mom owns one.” Grace answers, stepping up to the record player, as Aiden slides the record into place, his hands hovering over the dials and buttons before the music finally begins to play after a long period of silence. 

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick by…

Grace nods her head to the beat of the slow song, looking over at Aiden a simple smile on his face his head moving to the beat same as hers. She reaches her hand out to him with a smirk, “Care to dance, Sandy?”

“Please don’t ever call me Sandy again.” Aiden huffs, before accepting her hand into his own. She laughs as she pulls him towards the middle of the room, happy he got her Grease joke. She pulls him in very close, his hands falling onto her waist hers around his neck as she rests her head onto his chest. She listens to the gentle beat of his heart as he sways in place to the song.

If you’re lost you can look - and you will find me, time after time…

Grace smiles in comfort, as Aiden steps away from her his hand still in hers as he leads her through a twirl, a laugh leaving both of their lips as he pulls her back into his embrace. His beaming smile looking down at her in admiration, before ducking down his eyes bashfully. Causing Grace to grin her teeth digging into her lower lip as they look back at one another.

If you fall i will catch you - i’ll be waiting, time after time…

Aiden leans in as Cydni sings the last word, Grace standing on her tippytoes as she begins to lean into his touch their faces inches away when they’re pulled apart from one another by the sound of someone’s gasp both of them turning to look to see Maria standing there her face flushing red looking away.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I was looking for somewhere quiet to decompress.” She admits, looking at Grace a glint in her eye that fills Grace with a feeling she can’t quite explain but leaves her stomach churning as she looks back at Aiden. 

“I - uh -” He blushes himself, “I’m going to find Myra, she’s probably making a fool of herself,” Aiden affirms. “Grace.” He nods, walking away from her, “Maria.” He nods at her as well, and Grace watches him retreat down the stairs.

“I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean-” Maria starts to explain clearly flustered and confused as Grace holds up her hand cutting Maria off, smiling softly at the girl in front of her.

“Don’t worry about it. So, decompress?” She gives Maria a playful smirk, “how does the Maria Flores decompress?”

Listen To Your Heart part 2

@prettyinpayne @ohnoitsthebat @queenofsprongstyle

Word count 1122

Chapter 2: Trust in All The Right Places

It had been a few months since Libby joined house and she had just returned from Brooklyn from her grandmother's funeral and something was off about her. Like she had been spooked and it didn't help matters that she had a black eye and a cut on her bottom lip. And everyone wanted to ask what happened but didn't want to set her off. They had learned when Libby wanted to talk she would.  “Hey luintents can I talk to you?” She asked, the house was having a slow night and hadn't had any calls so Kelly and Casey were sitting at the table on the ampoursate floor. Darden seeing the scared look in her eyes stood up. “No Andy stay, I trust you enough to hear this.” Andy sat down again as Libby sat across from them.

“Matt you said I could come to you with anything right? Even personal stuff?” “Of course Libby, what happened?”  She licked her lips, “Michael did this.” She motioned to her lip and her eye, “and it's not the first time. I needed to get out and I don't know how.” Matt looked at Kelly who was vibrating in anger, it was no secret how the two felt about each other and did nothing to act on it. “This is a good first step Libby, telling us about it. We are your family now. And we are going to do everything we can to help you.” Libby nodded her head, “Thank you.” “We got your back Lib. Don't worry, if he tries anything again with you, he will have to go through all of us first.” Andy said.  She nodded her head as Shay came over to the table. “What's going on?” She asked. “sit down Shay I need to tell you something.’

**

“do you want us to be with you when you call your parents?” Kelly asked after they got back from their call. “please.” she answered, she felt more confident after telling them what happened. The rest of the firehouse had been told and was furious that this happened to one of their own. And they decided that she wasn't to be left alone either something she was grateful for.

Kelly grasped her hand in his and lead her into his quarters, Casey, Shay, Hermann and Dawson following them.   She sat on the bed and pressed the speed dial for her home phone. It rang once then twice then it was followed by Nicky Reagan -Boyle’s voice,  “Aunt Libby!”

“Hey short stuff. Is grandpa or uncle Danny there?” “Yeah hold on.”  Seconds later Danny’s voice  came on the phone. “Hey Bee what's up?” “Hey Danno  I need to talk to you about something. Can you get dad and Joe too?” “Yeah are you okay?” “not really.” “You got this LIbby.” Herrmann said. She nodded her head. “Okay we are all here. What's up? “ Danny asked. “Um, for the last couple of years  Michael has been assaulting me and the last time he did it was after Grandma’s funeral.”  “What happened?” Frank’s voice came through. “He got mad that I was coming back to Chicago and he hit me, busted my lip open and gave me a black eye.” “He hasn’t has he?” Joe asked. “Yes he did.. As soon as he left the room, I got out of the apartment and went to the train station and got on an earlier train.” “How long?” Danny asked. “Since I was 16. He didn’t like the fact that I told him no and kept telling him no.”  “Good girl. Are you okay now?” Frank asked. “I am okay, I have my firehouse family with me. And they won’t let anything happen to me.” “We will take care of this Lib.” Danny said.  “Danny, I didn’t tell you this so you can go into full blown over protective brother mode. I told you so you know what’s going on with me.  I have a notebook full of the stuff he has done to me and when the time comes that I am ready to press charges. I am gonna nail his ass to the wall.” “That’s our girl.” Joe laughed before the alarm sounded. “I got to go, i will talk to you later this week.”

**

“Otis! Don’t!” Libby laughed pushing the Russian away from her.  They were washing the rigs and he decided to start spraying at her. “Don’t what? I am not doing anything.” Libby raised her own hose and sprayed him back. “Hey!’ “I don’t play fair Otis.” She sprayed him again. “Watch it Lib, I will get you  back.” “Bring it Otis.” She grinned.

  “Can I help you?” Otis asked turning his attention away from Libby to the man that just walked up the driveway. “I am here to see her.”  Michael O’Malley said pointing his finger at his girlfriend who turned around and froze. “I don’t want to see you.” She said. “Well too bad.” “Hey pal, she said she didn’t want to see you. Why don’t you leave?” Otis said.  ‘No,” Michael returned, “Come on now Elizabeth this is quite enough.”  

When Libby didn't move he stepped forward and grasped her wrist in his hand tightly, a pained whimper escaped her lips. “Hey! Let her go now!” Otis shouted trying to get between them. The shouts brought the rest of 51 rushing out. “Hey! Let her go!” Casey said as Shay and Dawson went to Libby's side.  “Are you okay?” Shay asked hugging her to her side, she had adopted Libby as her own pet project and had considered her like she was her best friend. Sister even. Libby nodded her head numbly.

 “I want him to leave. “ she said softly as Kelly pushed him away from her. “I don't want to see him again.” “You heard her! Go! “ the taller man said as the chief came out. He saw the panic look on Libby's face and how she was holding onto Shay. “You need to leave now. “ Michael flattered seeing how angry he was. There was only one other person who scared him like that and that was Libby's father Frank. “This isn't over Elizabeth. Not by a long shot.” He backed away and Libby released a breath and turned into Shay for several minutes before going over to Otis and hugging him. 

“Thank you Brian.” He hugged her back, “ no need to thank me Lib. None at all.” Libby nodded her head as she turned around that fear she had had been replaced with hope and contentment, she had a new family that would protect her and help her get away from Michael. And that was exactly what she needed.

Hopper’s New Kid

okay so @lgbtchee and I were talking and got an idea for a Mike Wheeler focused series 

Part 1/? of “How Hopper Adopted Mike Wheeler” Series 

Summary: Hopper was spending a night in the cabin alone, when a hysterical Mike Wheeler shows up at his door. After some pushing, Hopper hears the story of how Mike Wheeler came out to his family. 

warnings: homophobia, violence, mentions of depression 

word count: 2857

It was just a normal night, Hopper was watching whatever was on the tv, drinking coffee (even if it was unreasonably late). El was with Max for a “girl’s night”, so it was quiet in the house, with just him. He expected a quiet night of drinking coffee and going over case files before passing out in his bed.

That is until, he heard a knock on the door, but not just any knock. The special knock Mike Wheeler created. Three knocks then five knocks then three again. Hopper got up to answer the door.

“Kid, what the hell are you doing here so late? El isn’t he-“ He cut himself off when he actually saw Mike.

Mike had been crying, had a darkening bruise on his left cheek, his lip was split, and he had a half filled duffle bag clutched in his hands so tightly, his knuckles were white.

“What the hell happened to you? Get in here, kid.” Hopper fully opened the door and pulled Mike in from the chilly porch by the collar of his sweater.

“Don’t you realize what time of year it is? It’s twenty degrees out there, not including wind chill. You’re mom would probably have a fit if you got sick coming to visit my kid.” Hopper locks the door behind Mike and immediately heads into the kitchen.

Mike doesn’t respond, simply sets down the half filled duffle bag in his hands next to the couch and hovers near the dining room table. Clearly unsure what he should do.

“Sit down, kid. I’m making some of this tea to warm you up.”

Mike’s brows furrow in clear confusion. Hopper, the man who would inject caffeine directly into his bloodstream if he could, was making him tea?

“I know. But El swears by this stuff. Joyce gave her some when she had a particularly bad day and now she lives off the stuff. It’ll warm you up.” Hopper says and they go back to silence.

Well, as much silence as they could have with Mike’s wet half sniffles interupting as he tries to hide the fact that he was and probably still is crying.

Hopper didn’t really know what to do. With El, most of the issues they’ve dealt with are hiding from secret government agencies and moving past traumatic flashbacks. But Mike Wheeler was not a telekinetic fifteen year old girl who escaped a government facility at twelve years old, trying to enter regular society. Mike Wheeler is a fifteen year old boy with loud opinions and loud emotions. A boy that Hopper didn’t know very well past the surface.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Why you’re here this late?” Hopper asked, talking slowly, not wanting to spook Mike and make him more upset than he already was.

At that point Mike broke down again, Letting everything he’d been holding in, spill out.

“I just-I came out to my parents.” He said, leaving hopper confused.

“Came out?” Hopper keeps his voice even and low, trying to hide his confusion.

“I, uh, I told them I was bi. That I like boys and girls.” Mike’s voice is thick with tears and quiet, like he almost didn’t want Hopper to hear him.

Hopper is shocked. Of all the things the Wheeler kid could be crying about, it was this? Interdimensional monsters and government conspiracies he could understand, expect even. But problems with the kid’s sexuality is way out of his realm of knowledge. He couldn’t shoot ignorance with a shotgun.

“They didn't take it well. My mom, she just cried the whole time. Dad freaked out! He was so angry and kicked me out. Saying I'm going to ‘infect’ Holly.” Hopper’s fist tightened.

“I just, I really can’t handle this shit anymore. No one really seems to pay attention unless I’m doing something wrong.”

Hopper immediately feels guilty. He was the go to person for the kids whenever they had a problem after Will first disappeared. But after El closed the gate and all their science fiction bullsit problems were over, he slacked off. They all had their own parents and friends to take care of them. Or at least he thought so. Looking at the broken down boy in front of him, he knows he was wrong.

“Tell me everything, the whole story.” Hopper urges Mike on, and after a moments hesitation, he spiils.

Mike was at the dining room table. His mom was cutting Holly’s chicken while occasionally sipping from her glass of chardonnay. Holly was chatting on about how she made friends with the new girl, from Chicago, in their kindergarten class. Ted was oblivious, eating his chicken while sipping from a tumbler of whiskey.

Mike was silently pushing his food around his plate. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the food, it was actually one of his favorites and his mom was the best cook he’s ever met. The knot in his stomach was to big for him to eat. His throat was too tight to even try to get food down. He didn’t even know if he’d be able to keep it down. He knew that his parents wouldn’t notice. It seemed like they decided that ignoring the problem was the best way to deal with anything to do with Mike. He’d have to be the one to break the distance between himself and his parents.

“Her name is Ashley and she has a bunch of my little ponies and she says that me and Jessie can come ov-” Holly explains, her voice rushed with child-like eagerness.

Mike cuts her off.

“Uh, Mom, Dad, Can we-” Mike starts, his voice quivering, but his mom cuts him off without even looking away from Holly.

“Mike, don’t cut people off, it’s rude. Your sister was speaking.”

Mike scowls at his mother; this was already not going how he wanted it to.

“Mom, this is important.” Mike doesn’t want to whine but his anxiety gets ahead of him.

“Let Holly finish her-”

“Mom!” Mike slams his fist against the table.

The heads of his mom, dad, and baby sister all snap towards him. He has their attention.

“Mike, what is it?” His mother asks, concern flooding her features.

Mike takes a deep breath. This is it, no more waiting and second guessing himself at the last minute. No more of keeping it buried deep down inside him until even he can’t see it. No more.

“I have something to tell you. Something I’ve been trying to say for a while… I just didn’t know how to say it.” Mike can already feel tears welling in his eyes.

“Mike…” His mom’s voice is tight but that doesn’t stop him.

“I think I’ve always known, but it took me a while to realize that I knew. Does that make sense?” Mike is starting to ramble, to rush. He wants to slow down and make his words perfect but he just can’t.

“Mike, ple-” He cuts his mom off.

“I’ve tried to keep it away, to bury it and ignore it. But I can’t ignore it anymore. It’s been eating away at me and I can’t hold it in anymore.” Fat tears start to roll down Mike’s cheeks but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop because if he does he might not be able to ever say it.

“Michael, that is enough. You don’t know-” His mother’s voice is reaching frantic, but he ignores her to keep going.

“You have to know. I can’t be the only one to know anymore. I can’t carry it all on my own anymore!” Mike is yelling, frantically searching the crying face of his mother and the red face of his father for something, anything.

“Son!” His father booms.

“Michael, don’t!” His mom yells, but it’s too late.

“I like boys! I like boys just as much as girls! I can’t stop it, it’s just who I am. I’m bisexual. I’m bisexual. I’m bisexual!” Mike is screaming, his voice is raw from a mix of the yelling and the crying.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his mom lets out a cry that’s a sick mix between a gasp and a sob. His father jumps from his chair, his face blood red. Holly starts to cry, confusion written all over her face.

“You take that back! Take that back, Michael!” His father roars.

For the first time in his life, Mike actually has caused a reaction in his father. His entire life, he wished he could get something more than a grunt out of him. He takes it back now.

“No! No, I can’t take it back! It’s true. I like boys! I like-” Mike is completely frantic, screaming so loud, he wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors hear the fight.

Then his father does something so unexpected, even in the worst nightmare of how Mike thought this would go, he didn’t think it would escalate to this.

His father slaps Mike with all the power he has. Mike’s head snaps from left to right with so much force, Mike thinks he might have whiplash. He is thrown from his chair. His lip catches on the braces he started wearing a year before, carving a large gash into his bottom lip and spilling blood down his chin.

“Ted! Stop it!” His mother yells between sobs.

“No son of mine will be a goddamn faggot! What will everyone think! That I raised some sick sissy boy! He’s gonna infect Holly with his disgusting sinful disease! He’s not my son if he wants to be some fairy!” Ted screams at his wife.

Mike can’t hold back the sobs that wrack his body. His own dad is saying this. This wasn’t some televangelist on the tv or politician in Washington. This was the man who taught him how to ride a bike. Who took him driving the day he got his permit. Who gave him his first sip of beer at their fourth of july barbecue when he was eight. This was his own father. It hurt a million times more than any stranger.

“Dad, please!” Mike pleads, not lifting himself off the ground.

“Get out!” His dad booms.

“Ted, we don’t have to do that! We can fix this!” His mom yells and Mike feels what’s left of his heart break.

“Mom.” Mike practically moans, not knowing what else to say.

“No. Leave, now!” His dad booms, taking another step towards Mike.

This triggers Mike into action. He springs up and out of the kitchen, running up the stairs. He pulls the duffle bag he used the summer he visited his cousin in Maine out from under his bed. He grabs as much clothes as he can grab from his drawers, stuffing them into the bag. He can still hears his parents fighting downstairs, screaming back and forth on how to deal with his “sickness”.

He stuffs anything that he can think to remember into the bag. He didn’t plan for this. He didn’t plan for any of this. He never imagined that his life would ever come to this. This isn’t some interdimensional monster or government agency. This was his own family.

He ran down the stairs, as quickly as he could. He needed to leave as quickly as possible. He couldn’t keep listening to all the fighting, to any of it. He tries to sneak past his parents and leave before they could see him again.

He’s just at the front door when he heres sniffling behind him.

“Mikey?” Holly asks wetly behind him.

Mike whips around to see a tear stained Holly behind him. She looked so scared and lost and sad; it didn’t suit her five year old cherub features. Mike felt so guilty for being the cause of her pain. Of this.

“Hey, Holls, it’s okay.” Mike says, dropping his bag and wrapping Holly in a hug.

“Why are mommy and daddy fighting? Why did daddy hit you?” Holly asks, and Mike wishes he had an answer he could give her.

“It’s complicated, Holls. You won’t get it for a while. I’m so sorry.” Mike says, more tears dripping down his face.

“Are you leaving?” She asks, confused.

“I have to go for a bit, Holls.”

The sob that rips through her is what does Mike in.

“It’s alright, Holls. I’ll be back. It’s okay.” Mike squeezes her tighter.

“Don’t touch her! Get out!” His dad yells from behind him.

Suddenly, without thinking, Mike grips onto Holly tighter, not wanting to let go of her so soon. Not wanting to leave her at all. Holly grips on just as tight.

“Off!” Ted yells, pulling roughly at Mike.

Mike grips onto her tighter, not wanting to her to be taken away so soon. She’s only five years old, he can’t leave her yet. Karen grabs Holly from behind and starts to pull her away as well.

“Mikey! Mikey don’t leave! Please Mikey!”

“Please, don’t make me! Please! Mom! I don’t want to go! Dad! Mom! I’m not ready! I’m not ready!” Mike screams and thrashes in his father’s arms, but Holly is ripped out of his grip.

“Mikey! Mikey!” Holly screams, pulling against her mother. But she isn’t strong enough to break free.

“Get out! Stay away from this family. We won’t have some sick faggot in this house or in this family. Get out!” Ted yelled, throwing Mike against the front door.

With tears streaming down his face, bruises throbbing all over, and his heart aching in his chest, Mike scrambled out the front door. He could still hear Holly yelling after him, now pounding on the front window to try and stop him.

Mike ran down the street and into the woods that surrounded Hawkin. He ran to the only people who made him feel completely safe. He ran to the Hopper’s.

By the time he finished, Mike was crying again, his head buried in his arms on the table. Hopper didn’t know what to do, didnt know how to comfort the boy. He wanted to help him, but he didn’t know exactly how. There would be another teenager in the house. God knows what they would do, but he couldn’t just leave Mike on the streets.

“Hey, kid, calm down” he said awkwardly, patting his back.

“There is nothing wrong with you, you hear? They’re wrong, not you. You didn’t do anything wrong, Mike.” Hopper said, that only seemed to make Mike cry harder, but with relief this time.

“You can stay here as long as you need.” Hopper added.

Mike lifted his head and turned to Hopper. He looked like he has the past three years. He had dark bags under his eyes. He looked tired and just, done with everything. Hopper had the sickening feeling that his depressed mood was more than just a mood.

“Y-You’ll really let me stay here?” Mike said quietly, his voice strained from crying the past few hours.

Hopper nodded.

“Yeah, kid, we’ll figure it out. Is that all that’s been happening? Because frankly, you’ve been acting this way for awhile.” Hopper tried to push Mike without pushing him too hard.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.” Mike said, shrugging, his eyes shifting with unease.

“Oh bullshit, Wheeler, what’s been happening?”

“I may not ask all the time, but something’s been going on with you.” Hopper finishes.

“It’s just… anytime anything was wrong or something, they just, ignored it! They don’t bother to care when I get sick after I eat. They don’t bother to care about anything when it comes to me! Nothing matters to them when it come to me, so i just, I guess I stopped caring too. Destroy yourself so no one else can...” Mike mumbled at the end, drinking on the tea the Hopper gave him.

“Jesus, Mike...” hopper mumbled.

He could tell Mike was holding something back, but he wasn't going to push him. The way he was nervously tugging on his sleeves, keeping them down past his hands; he figured he shouldn’t question it. It was explanation enough.

“Does Nancy know?” Hopper asked.

Mike nodded.

“She doesn’t know what just happened, but she knows that I’m bisexual, and about other things...”

“You should call her, talk to her. She’ll be pissed if she has to find out from someone else. If there’s one thing I learned, you don’t want to deal with an angry Wheeler.” Hopper says, a small smile on his face when Mike lets out a wet laugh.

“Yeah, I think I should.” Mike says, and gets up out if his seat and uses the emergency phone that sat next to the Ham radio in the living room.

Hopper sits and watches Mike from his seat. He knows that this isn’t the end of both this conversation or Mike’s problems. He knows that suddenly raising another teenager, this time a boy, will be incredibly difficult. He knows that this is just the beginning. But he’ll be damned if he won’t do anything to try and help and protect this kid.

Hopper didn’t realize that by adopting one telekinetic teenage daughter means adopting her friends too. Hopper thinks he doesn’t really mind.

This is the first part of a series focusing on my son, Mike Wheeler, that I’m writing with @lgbtchee and we’re really excited to share it with you. They’ll be posted on both accounts interchangably. If you want to be tagged in it, just message one of us! 

I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it! 

Apple Pie & Corn Mazes

Request: Ooh yes fall requests are great and I didn't even think about that! I would love a fluffy dean x reader where she convinces him to go to one of those Halloween haunted hayrides/maze/house even tho he's not too into the idea at first? Thank you!

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,500ish

Warnings: none

A/N: Just some fun fall fluff...

“Y/N, if anything is ever going to be a testament of my love for you, it's this,” said Dean. He parked the car in the dirt field, glancing at you that maybe he could still convince you to do something else today.

“Come on, Dean. You said you'd give it a chance. I gave you one and now you have an amazing girlfriend,” you said, sliding across the front bench to kiss his cheek, earning a barely there smile. “Someone likes me…”

“No idea what you're talking about,” he said, your nose nuzzling his making him laugh. “I'm not going to blush.”

“But you're cute when your cheeks get all pink,” you said, pecking a kiss to his always soft lips. He tried to bite at his smile but you saw your own start to be mirrored on his face as he shook his head. “Cute boys get kisses.”

“I am a man, not a boy,” he said, deciding on wearing a smirk. “I still get kisses.”

“My adorable man,” you said. “My adorable boyfriend that would make me really happy if he spent the day having fun with me…”

“You're lucky I love you,” he said, pressing a fast kiss to your lips. “Let's do this before I come to my senses.”

“You’ve been a puppy dog in love from the second we met, Winchester. Your senses are long gone,” you said, sliding out of the car, Dean coming around to your side to hold your hand as you walked towards the entrance to the farm decked out for fall.

“Pfft, you wish,” he said. “You wore me down is all.”

“I wore you down when you blurted out at breakfast that I looked pretty and then tried to pretend you didn’t say it for two days? Oh yes, I had to throw myself at you,” you said, tilting your head up to get a kiss from him.

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N,” he said, smiling as he handed the girl at the gate ten bucks and she waved the two of you inside.

“What’s that?” you asked, slowing your walk to look around and decide what you wanted to explore first.

“You’re teasing me so I’m in a good mood,” said Dean, squeezing your hand. “I’ll try not to be grumpy, promise.”

“If you really aren’t going to have a good time-”

“I already paid. If you’re having a good time, I’m sure I will too,” he said, sniffing sharply. “I think I smell apple pie.”

“Let’s go find you some. That’ll make you happy.”

Dean had sniffed out the pie in under five minutes, grabbing a slice of apple and pumpkin for himself and a big glob of cotton candy for you to share. He polished off the pie fast as you wandered around and saw some of the animals, spotting a kids corn maze that he could practically see over top of.

“I wonder if they have something a little tougher for adults,” he said, getting his answer about two minutes later when the scarecrow in a chair by a sign moved and scared the shit out of him.

“What the hell man!” said Dean, the guy in the outfit chuckling to himself. “Oh, I bet that’s the best part of your day, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much,” he said back. “You two doing the haunted maze? Starts in about ten minutes.”

“What is it?” you asked, buttoning your flannel as the wind picked up.

“It’s the corn maze for adults but people will jump out and spook ya,” he said. “You guys want to do it?”

“What’s the catch?” asked Dean, missing your eye roll.

“He obviously doesn’t so, no thanks,” you said, grabbing hold of Dean’s hand, stopping in your tracks when Dean tugged on you, turning to face the guy.

“What’s the catch?” he asked again, the guy handing Dean a sheet of paper.

“You have to hit all eight checkmarks. You miss one and you don’t get your free ice cream ticket at the end,” he said. “Listen, it’s not really that scary if you’re worried or-”

“Come on sweetheart, we got a maze to bust through,” said Dean. You were surprised but he seemed genuinely excited to go run around.

“You know that follow the left wall trick isn’t going to work in here. It’s normally a shape or something,” you said, Dean humming happily. “What, your hunter senses going off?”

“You’re actually nervous. Tough little hunter scared of some guy in a mask jumping out at her,” said Dean, chuckling to himself as you came to a fork and walked down one road.

“Am not,” you said, wrapping your hands around his arm, flinching when you heard a rustling in the stalks.

“Uh huh,” said Dean, rounding a corner, spotting one of the checkpoints, a hooded figure right beside it. “A million dollars that’s a guy.”

“How about you give me your jacket instead?” you asked, Dean wrapping you up in a hug.

“Cold? You left your sweatshirt in the car,” he said, shrugging off his jacket and putting it on you. “That better?”

“Yeah. Thanks,” you said, helping him roll down his sleeves and button up his shirt so he stayed warm.

“Of course. Now you stay close so I can steal your body heat,” he said, wrapping a hand over yours, pulling you to move forward again, your feet staying firmly in place. “How about you stay here and I’ll go get the checkpoint, okay?”

“Good plan,” you said, holding a thumbs up as he went down to the trail and picked up the stamp to mark your sheet. The guy didn’t move and Dean shrugged, just as you saw a zombie jump out in front of you. You screamed and Dean spun around with wide eyes, the zombie slouching over the side so Dean could get by. “Hurry, hurry, hurry.”

“Yup, should have guessed that,” said Dean, walking quickly passed the zombie that snarled at him. “Okay, you just...do that then.”

“How many checkpoints do we have?” you asked, Dean holding up your sheet to show only two, the first one a gimmie at the start. “Why did we do this?”

“I’ll protect you-ah!” Dean shouted, nearly jumping into you as a witch appeared through the stalks and gave a wave before cutting through again to go scare other people. You raised an eyebrow as you laughed, Dean trying to fight back his own before giving in and resting his hands on his knees. “That might not have been my best moment.”

“No, you were great. I feel so safe now,” you said, tugging him along to continue on the path, wearing a big smile.

“Awesome. Your turn to get scared next time.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” you said, all eight checkpoints marked off as you made your way through the last zig zags of the maze.

“Why, because we haven’t seen any Freddy’s or Jason’s or Michael’s in the past ten minutes?” he asked.

“Yes, exactly that,” you said. “There better not be-Dean!”

Dean jumped too but he was laughing at how you’d physically cowered behind him, out of the way of the scarecrows that just crawled out the stalks, children of the corn style.

“Let’s go,” said Dean, chuckling as he got you to giggle, jogging down a path and another, finally spotting the end and breathing a sigh of relief.

“Here you go,” said the scarecrow from earlier, handing Dean two free ice cream cone stubs. “You might have been the fastest to go through this year so far.”

“See, sweetheart? I got this,” said Dean, jumping when one of the scarecrows from the maze shouted boo behind him.

“Oh, I love you so much for that,” you said to the guy, getting a high five in return. Dean grumbled but you could tell he was faking. “Would you mind taking a picture of us?”

“Sure,” they said, Dean putting on a soft smile as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “Don’t forget your free ice cream.”

“Thanks,” you said, taking your phone back as Dean started to head towards the stand, grabbing a cone for you each. “Thank you handsome.”

“Thank you beautiful,” he said, walking slowly as you ate. “I actually had fun doing this somehow.”

“I’m glad. The sun’s starting to go down though. You want to grab some dinner on the way home?” you asked, Dean glancing at the pie again as he finished off his ice cream. “Somewhere with pie?”

“Yes please,” he said. “Next weekend, I’m going to figure out something fun for us. How’s that sound? A date night?”

“Sounds perfect, Dean.”

@anokhi07 @xxwinchester-22xx @charliebradbury1104 @everyday-supernatural-af @squirels-angels-and-moose @youwerelikeadream @drugpug @darkx143 @kristaparadowski @tom-is-in-my-tardis @tanithlowisabamf @smoothdogsgirl @dancingalone21 @ktrivia @demonic-meatball @feelmyroarrrr  @cojootromuelle @gallifreyansass @fangirl1802 @casgetoutofmydiddlydarnass @mogaruke @ria132love @heycassbutt-67 @aingealcethlenn @docharleythegeekqueen @missmotherhen @smacklesandstretch67 @ceeceewinchester

@tumblinwith-me @xfanqirlinq @heaven-is-aplaceonearthwithyou @hey-um-misha @bennyh @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @lovelife-tothefullest @under-general-asthetics @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @missdestiel67 @evyiione @jensenackesl @xxxdevine-demonsxxx @ayeeitsemry @mac5323 @atc74 @captainemwinchester @nanie5 @idalinette @quiddy-writes @pureawesomeness001 @poukothenerd @af112992 @mickey-m399 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @upon-a-girl @amazinntay @akshi8278 @baconlover001 @flufy07 @jayankles @alilianamendez @batmanprincesskitten @uniquewerewolfsuit @whit85-blog @spn-ficfanatic

@zeusmyster @maddieburcham1 @moonstar86 @kathaswings @my-blogging-skills-are-rusty @arryn-nyxx @kickasscas67 @mrsbatesmotel53 @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @i-ship-crazy-crap @untitled39887 @extreme-supernatural-lover @emilymorgan1994 @boxywrites @fallen-castiel @its-not-a-tulpa @pillow223 @jaelami @roxyspearing @fandom--shipper

The final part I completed before I lost any remaining motivation. Shame.

More Metal Gear/Victoria below. Also contains references to Revengence and Metal Wolf Chaos as they had been requested in the forum at that time.

Originally posted on Spacebattles.

*Post chapter 20 I believe in Victoria, though I’d begun to diverge from the books canon a bit by now.

***

1400 Hours: Grey skies hung low over the city. It had rained earlier. Droplets of water hung on the surface of the window. He could see outside on the grounds where the guards walked their patrols, boots speckled with mud and ponchos still damp. After the President’s assassination the remains of the current administration were taking every possible precaution. General Wesley Clark, acting commander of the US Armed Forces turned from the window as he heard a knock on the door. His assistant looked in after a moment. At a nod from the general he opened the door and ushered in the first of his visitors from Colorado. “Well Clark, I’m here,” Senator Armstrong said as he strode into the room. He pushed a chair to the side and sat heavily. A small white cloth pulled from his suit pocket and drying his glasses while pointedly ignoring the two that followed him in. “I hope you’ve got a damn good reason for having me fly out here when we’re still trying to put down the last remnants of the Colorado Insurrection.” The Emmerichs seated themselves far on the other side of the room. Clark was a little surprised that only one of them had in arrived casual clothes. He didn’t mind truthfully. Jeans and sneakers were almost expected from cloistered technical geniuses. If anything the fact that Sunny Emmerich had suit nearly as nice as Armstrong’s, if in miniature, was the unexpected. Though she’d eagerly approached to shake his hand where her adopted father had shyly stayed back. “I’m glad you could all arrive on such short notice. I’m even happier to know that you were all available to come in the first place. Our enemies have managed to compromise a considerable amount of the traditional intelligence organizations,” Clark said as he sat down behind the polished mahogany desk. “Luckily your own well learned paranoia has kept you safe from them thus far.” “Cut the crap Clark. Half the country is tearing itself apart and most of the beltway regulars have caught the contagious crazy. Hell, they just had to drag the Governor of Idaho off as he started pledging to outlaw human reproduction in order to heal mother Gaia or some hippy nonsense.” “That was rather odd,” Hal Emmerich said. Looking to the side as the Senator’s gaze focused on him. He reached up and adjusted his own glasses nervously before continuing. “I mean didn’t he vote against a climate control initiative just last year?” “He did. Based on the altered behavior and sudden shifts in personality we suspect some kind of psychic agents,” General Clark said. “Though we have other proof that they have been engaging in a long term infiltration campaign using mind control techniques.” “Mind control?” said Sunny Emmerich as she stood up from her chair. “But there’s only been one known psychic with that level of strength. And he’s been dead for over a decade.” “She’s right. I was there at Shadow Moses Island. No one else has those sorts of abilities… and if they did, why haven’t they gotten to you as well?” “Nanomachines son,” Armstrong said with a smirk as he answered Hal’s question while tapping his head. “Fourth generation psi dampeners keyed to your unique neurological structure. Not many government officials went to the trouble of getting them instead of the stuff you can get with a quick shot. Should have went for the top shelf.” “But what proof do you have of any of this? I mean civil unrest often accompanies plagues and economic disasters. The last half decade have set historical records for those events so is a conspiracy of programmed double agents really more likely?” Sunny paused for a moment as the three others focused their attention on her. “I mean that’s just from what I’ve read about this sort of thing anyway.” General Clark nodded slightly to her statement. “Normally I’d agree with you… but we’ve other evidence. That corroborates this conclusion.” And then there was a fifth person in the room. “Biological optical camouflage?! But that’s impossible! You’d have to… well you’d have a completely inhumane epidermis to even begin to display such traits…” “So… this disaster has even dragged someone like you out of hiding?” Armstrong said before turning back towards Clark. “So what does one of Cipher’s monsters have to add?” Quiet turned cold glare on the senator. Armstrong merely spread his hands while smiling. “We don’t have time for this.” Depressing a button on his desk closed the curtains and slowly lowered a projection screen. As the lights dimmed General Clark seated himself once more. “She was the one responsible for rescuing Governor Fullerton as well as the federal hostages during the fall of Boston. I’ve been hiring her covertly once the extent of our enemy’s infiltration became evident. But retrieving a few political hostages is far from the extent of her accomplishments.” The screen behind him flickered blue as the image of grim faced American soldier was shown. “I met him on the Constantine. He was with the CMC.” Quiet signed, the electronic reader attached to her right arm obediently translating into digitized speech. “He used a gas to induce hallucinations.” “The man who Quiet met was Gunny Matthews. As a young Marine he was involved in certain experiments with chemical stimulants and hallucinogens during the seventies. I’m sure some of you are aware of the official story regarding those projects,” General Clark said as the screen flickered showing the records and death certificates for the other subjects from the same experiment. “W-well in the 1950s the CIA conducted experiments with LSD exposure. While officially those tests eventually came to a stop…” “Unofficially we continued to experiment with chemically assisted psychological warfare. Both within ‘official’ government research facilities and black ops organizations like Cipher. And they discovered that while there was little use of the advanced chemical stimulants and aerosolized hallucinogens in combat they had a remarkable effect on psychic abilities. Both strengthening the user as well as weakening the will of those being controlled. The lack of many powerful psychics limited the project but- “ “Not that your explanation of government funded spook powers isn’t fascinating Clark,” Armstrong said, “but could we perhaps focus on the fact that the Russians apparently had an American Governor held hostage on one of their naval vessels?” “That wasn’t all I found,” Quiet signed. “Yes, we have something even worse to worry about. I’m sure you’ve all been wondering why we’ve stopped trying to directly retake the northeast. While onboard the Constantine Quiet discovered this,” General Clark displayed another image and looked up to see shock and surprise evident on nearly every face. “Is that what I think it is?” “A multi range rail gun… part of a firing system for variable payloads. One designed to be mounted on a bipedal weapons platform. And there were clear signs that the ship was carrying two of them when it approached the coast of Nova Scotia four months ago.” Clark’s expression was especially grim as he continued. “The answer is clear. They have a nuclear armed metal gear active in their territory.” “Oh god no! It’s happening again…” Hal said as he sat down. Face downcast and legs weak as his adopted daughter placed a hand on his shoulder. “What are we going to do?” “So that’s why we stopped the airstrikes?” “Yes, along with the disastrous events where our forward strike force heading out of New York suddenly surrendered to a numerically and militarily inferior force only to be… tried for the crimes that our citizens started claiming they committed.” “That was rather surprising… I guess you didn’t have our boys in NBC gear?” “No Armstrong. We didn’t expect them to so flagrantly violate the Geneva convention.” General Clark’s eyes narrowed at the smile on the Senator’s face. “I suppose you would have?” “Would and did. Though I can’t take all the credit. World Marshall kept the riots under control in Denver but the insurrectionists were captured thanks to Arizona Congressman Michael Wilson. They tried to move the center of their rebellion into his state following their defeat in mine. It… didn’t pan out too well for them.” “Well at least we have some good news,” Clark said, turning back to his desk console and bringing up a new image. “Since the assassination of the supposed leader of the Northern Confederacy we’ve been trying to track down the current commander. Both of the CMC and the insurrection as a whole. And we think we’ve succeeded.” A series of images soon flashed onto the projection screen. He wore fatigues with a CMC armband, and his eerily pale skin clear even in the lower quality of the distant images. Beside him was a portly, if not somewhat obese man in a Prussian military uniform complete with Pickelhaube. “Who’s the Halloween costume freak?” Armstrong asked. “And what’s with his dead eyed friend?” “The man in the Prussian uniform has been identified as William Kraft. The so-called Craftman, he worked with soviet bloc states to train double agents before the Berlin Wall fell. Though supposedly his abilities extended well beyond that. We had been trying to track him down for years. But apparently he’s been hiding right under our noses the whole time. With his own little reprogramming center somewhere in Maine,” Clark paused for a long moment before continuing. “We don’t have anything official on his conspirator. Save that one of the Boston PD got out and later reported a man matching his description introducing himself as the commandant of the CMC. He claims to be an ex-Marine lieutenant. But there’s no record of an officer Rumlind ever having served in any branch of the US military. Everything the man says or does is a constructed lie designed to mislead others and to obscure the truth.” “That’s the next mission you have for me then?” “Correct. I contacted the Emmerich’s for their expertise in both bipedal weapons and electronic warfare. They will be functioning as support staff since finding and neutralizing their nuclear capability is to be considered a primary objective of this operation. Along with locating Kraft’s base of operations so that we can hopefully find out the names and identities of the Manchurian agents that have undergone programming by him.” “And assassinate him and the other conspirators?” “Yes. While under normal circumstances capture and trial might be preferable the danger they represent is such that we want them terminated.” Soon a map of Massachusetts was projected showing likely routes of movement corresponding to the sightings of Kraft and the unknown conspirator. Along with positions where allied radio responses were received… Until the communications went dark three days ago. “So we did lose some Green Berets up there?” Armstrong asked. “Just a few, doing reconnaissance for this mission in fact. They weren’t the ones that performed the assassination though. We think that was inner party conflicts between lesser members of the conspirators. Or perhaps something engineered by Kraft or Rumlind. Either way they used it to justify the president’s assassination last week. While there was nothing we could determine from his identity to track down Kraft we’ve received communications from up north. One of our soldiers is still free and sending intel. He’s also discovered where Kraft retreats to. Or the latest location perhaps.” Clark turned his gaze entirely onto Quiet. “You need to obtain that information. And you need to get it before they move the operations and we lose Kraft again.” “Your ultimate goal beyond removing their ability to launch a nuclear strike is to silence these terrorists before they can cause any more death and destruction.” *** “Yes Armstrong?” Clark asked. The Senator had hung back as the Emmerichs had left with Quiet to go over likely metal gear versions to be in use and the means to disable them. With the curtains open again the setting sun reflected as a pair dying embers from his glasses. “Is there something else you want?” “Perhaps. If I understand correctly I think you’re now the man to talk to this about. I feel that given recent… entanglements from our Tsarist friends we should reconsider my proposals.” “Congress is in no position to vote on military cybridization right now.” “Fuck those idiots. I don’t need their approval. The public is too weak to see what we need to keep this country safe. To keep America strong anyway,” Armstrong said, gesturing wildly his clenched fist striking at the air. “No… I’ve got plans to put those designs into operation under World Marshall and other subsidiary PMCs. But… the boys at the lab could use some of the things you dug up.” “You can’t mean…” “I want everything you have on Frank Jeager’s resurrection. I know you confiscated the labs where it was done and the data the Patriots had stored on it. With that we can go from mere bionics to full body prosthetic combat enhancement. Give me that and I’ll see to it that we get a non-US military force to retake Boston within a week. No chance for sleeper agents in them… I guarantee it.” “Despite the chemical control they’re still American citizens Armstrong.” “I’ll have them wear the kiddy gloves. No massacres on US soil. This isn’t my first trip to the rodeo.” “… Fine. I’ll see to it that the confiscated assets and research data are turned over.”