#Michael Langdon x Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaoshaswon · 3 years

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Wasteland, Baby Chapter Six

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The clock struck midnight and Maddie sighed, throwing her head back against the wall.

It had been an exceptionally long day. And all she wanted, more than her next breath, was to find Michael. To have him wrap her up in his arms and just hold her until everything disappeared.

In the moments they were alone, the world almost seemed good again. Which meant every minute that passed without him suddenly stretched on and on.

She hadn't been able to see him as much during the day. Between Venable and the others, she was kept busy.

Still, she had woken up with a large reminder of his presence. Mallory had gasped when Maddie sat up and pushed her back down until Emma and Jane had left.

"What the fuck was that about?" Maddie asked when they were gone.

"Is Langdon a vampire?" Mallory had snarked. "Because it looks like he chewed up your entire neck!"

"Shit!" She'd rushed to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Sure enough, the base of her neck was purple and blotchy.

"Good night?" Mal had asked with a wink and Maddie had never been more thankful for the high collars on their uniform.

And while she was annoyed at him for being so obvious and leaving physical reminders, she got a perverse little pleasure looking at it every time she was in a bathroom.

Especially since she only was able to see Michael, not in passing, once. And, even then, their encounter was hurried.

She arrived at the kitchen first thing in the morning for the daily assignments. The Fist informed them all of where they were going. Maddie had winced when she was informed that Coco had asked for her specifically. In fact, she’d been so caught up in her own dread that she nearly missed the Fist informing them that no one would need to tend to Evie, Emily, or Tim. When Eric had asked why, the Fist had smirked.

"Mrs. Gallant passed away in her sleep last night. And Emily and Tim will soon be joining her in the hereafter. A reminder for all of you to follow the rules of this institution to the letter."

Maddie easily read between the lines.

Em and Tim had never been as subtle as they'd like to believe. It had felt like a matter of time before they were caught but then, knowing what she did, Maddie was filled with dread.

When she left, Maddie found Mallory in the corner. "I need you to cover for me."

"What?"

"Please, Mal! Fifteen minutes tops."

The surprise on Mallory’s face had vanished and she had nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Go.”

Maddie had rushed through the halls, careful not to be seen as she made her way to Michael’s quarters. She hadn’t even bothered to knock as she pushed it open and ran into his temporary home.

She’d found him at his kitchen table, lazily typing on his laptop while eating a piece of toast. He was dressed to distraction in a pair of trousers and nothing else, leaving her momentarily tongue-tied and remembering every moment of their time together as well as the promise of what was to come.

He had grinned as she flew through his doorway. “Good morning, Madeline. Coffee?”

She’d managed to shake herself from her stupor to inform him, “Venable is going to kill Emily and Tim.”

“How interesting. Why?”

His cavalier tone made her want to shake him.

“She caught them having sex. You have to stop her!”

Michael had only blinked at her, gesturing vaguely with his half-eaten toast. “But I’m eating.”

She’d grit her teeth in frustration. “Michael. Please.” And that seemed to work. For a man who held himself in such high esteem that he looked at nearly everyone else as vermin, it amazed her how well a please worked.

A nagging part of her said it had little to do with the manners and more to do with who was doing the asking but she wasn't quite able to process that in the allotted time so she filed it away for later.

Michael had sighed dramatically and abandoned his breakfast to dress, handing her his coffee and insisting she drink it if he couldn’t. It was hard to argue with such sound reason so she had.

When he came back out of his room, he was dressed. Michael had grabbed her and kissed her thoroughly before asking, “Do I really have to stop her? I’d much rather stay here and pick up where we left off…”

After she assured him that yes, he did have to stop Venable from murdering two innocent people, he’d rolled his eyes.

“I suppose this means they’ll also be joining us in Sanctuary?” he’d asked in a bored tone before she practically pushed him out the door before it was too late.

With a final grumble about good girls and a kiss to her head, he’d left.

Seven seats were at the lunch table.

And that probably would have been a lot more satisfying if she weren’t so exhausted from dealing with Coco and Gallant, the latter of whom apparently wasn’t heartbroken at the death of his nana.

It seemed her three-hour interview with Langdon had not gone unnoticed by anyone, proving what Maddie had known to be true the whole time: there are no secrets in an Outpost. It also didn’t help that Venable had loudly alluded to Langdon’s “special interest in our own Madilyn.”

She really could smack him for letting her sleep that long. A single hour of his time was precious. Most of his interviews lasted between twenty and thirty minutes.

One thing was certain: Michael Langdon lacked subtlety in all its forms.

She could only imagine his response to that if she told him. “I have no need to be subtle. I’m right.” Rolling his sea-blue eyes, huffing his exasperation that she would even suggest he should be more subtle. After all, they were all beneath him.

It shouldn’t amuse her the way it did. Michael was a bastard. He teased them all with an Eden that he had basically no intent of delivering. He took great joy in making them all squirm although, she would admit, he liked making her squirm in an entirely different fashion.

She wondered if it was a matter of vanity. Would he be easier to hate if he wasn’t so attractive? Maybe. He looked like he was crafted by the gods themselves. A Bernini statue come to life. A wild biological defense that made him so handsome only to protect himself from those who would see the true darkness that drove him.

And she did see the darkness.

Anyone who really looked at him wouldn’t be able to miss it. It was in every condescending tilt of his head and every word meant to bait the others into losing control.

The question arose again: how could he be so cruel to others and so kind to her?

He promised to explain in time. It only worried her more. What deep and dark secrets was he keeping from her? Was Sanctuary even real? And if it was, what would they find there?

And yet, she was certain he wasn’t lying to her. He had a way of speaking that was utterly truthful. A careful elocution where his every word was carefully picked to hint at something fantastical while never really revealing anything. If one listened carefully, he never really promised anyone a ticket to Sanctuary. Except her. Of that, she had no doubt.

Still, the others were desperate for any kind of hope.

Which was why Maddie had been told to sit when she was supposed to be turning down Coco’s room to chat. Coco had never spoken to her in the entire eighteen months they had been at Outpost 3, unless “you! Grey! Fix me a tea!” or “Mallory’s little friend! I need help with my dress” counted as conversation.

“Alright, grey. Spill.”

“Spill what?”

“What happened between you and Langdon!” Gallant had said as if she were an idiot. “You were with him for three hours yesterday. Are you really going to pretend that you didn’t sleep together?”

“We didn’t.” Maddie informed them dryly. For all intents and purposes, she had slept alone the day before. Michael had merely tucked her in.

And while she had tried to seduce him further later that night, he had held firm. Even still, he had brought her to new heights of pleasure she had never imagined before. He put even her most favorite vibrator to shame.

“Yeah. Okay. Nobody believes that. Come on, we’re not looking for the down and dirty details.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gallant had said with a smirk.

Coco had admonished him, slapping Gallant’s chest. “Behave. Come on, Maddie.” She had said her name with a heaviness that told Maddie she was supposed to be honored by Coco learning and remembering her name. “Just give us a little insight into what he likes. What he expects in return for a ticket to Sanctuary.”

“Yeah. Like, he’s got a kinky vibe. But how far does that go?”

“Sadomasochism stuff? Or, just like vanilla BDSM?”

“She’s still walking so it can’t have been too violent,” Gallant had said. “But I’m still thinking he likes it rough. Am I right?”

“I really couldn’t say.” She had told them, pushing away the thoughts of Michael between her thighs, devouring her like a starving man.

Even if she told them the truth, she didn’t think they’d believe her. Michael liked his hair pulled and being kissed on the neck. He liked leaving marks, bruises, and any other proof of possession. He liked kissing while I jerked him off and he ate my pussy like he would die if he stopped.

Gallant had groaned, “You’re killing us! We know you fucked him! No point in keeping it secret. What else were you doing for three hours?”

“Talking.”

“Okay,” Coco had said with a snort. “And I’m a virgin.”

She wondered if revealing her own virginal status would get them to lay off but she somehow doubted it. What was more, everyone in the entire Outpost would know by teatime and that was the last thing she needed.

Already, she had more attention than she liked and it was only getting worse.

Coco and Gallant had continued to push but she didn’t give them anything. Not even a hint, much to their displeasure.

Eventually, they let her get on with her duties. She'd cleaned up their mess and only idly regretted turning down Michael's offer of taking her away from it all.

Even so, everything was made easier by the promise of Sanctuary in days and seeing Michael in hours.

When she had finished with Coco, they had all been called to an emergency meeting by Venable who had almost managed an apology for nearly killing Emily and Tim over having sex. Rather, she never said 'sorry', but she admitted to being wrong and promised to make it up to them all with a Halloween soiree at the end of the week.

Everyone had excitedly gathered around after to discuss the party. Even Venable had stayed for tea with the others.

Of course, Michael had ruined the calm by showing up to steal Emma away for her interview. There had been at least a dozen people present when he had locked eyes with her as she prepared tea and said, in Latin, “Dic verbo, et tollam vos.” Say the word, and I will take you away.

She had flushed like crazy, all eyes suddenly flitting between them. Michael had been nonplussed, completely ignoring all others in the room.

She carefully replied, "Tibi gratias ago, sed nulla.” Thank you, but no.

Michael had shaken his head and mockingly quoted the Latin adage “Labore et honore?” By labour and honor, he was teasing her work ethic.

Unable to tell him to fuck off, like she wanted, she placed her thumb between her first and middle finger in a rude gesture from early Roman days and, with a calm smile, told him "mordere me." Bite me.

Michael's lips had stretched into a slow smile as he promised, "nocte, ego autem." Tonight I will.

He'd stepped back, eyes locked on her before spinning on his heel and leaving her alone to deal with the fallout.

Her lips twitched as she remembered it all. She was so going to get him back.

Coco had given her a pointed stare. "Umm, I'm sorry. What the fuck was that?"

“Nothing.” She had been quick to say, resuming her task.

“Now, Madeline-- it’s impolite to lie.” Venable’s hawk-like eyes were locked on her, a sickly sweet smile on her face. “What language was that?”

“Latin.”

“Latin?” Gallant asked, disbelievingly. “Isn’t that dead?”

She nodded. “Mister Langdon and I have a shared interest in ancient languages.”

“How do you know Latin?” Coco asked, the shock of a grey knowing anything clearly too much for her to handle.

Eighteen months she had spent with these people and no one knew the first thing about her. About any of them, really.

Of course, she’d studied a great deal of anthropology in her explorations of the ancient world. Time passed and the world evolved but people in power never did. Knowledge always fell to the wayside of authority. A slave who knew more than his master was still subject to punishment, the same as anyone else.

Her understanding of that fact helped her get through the long months without bemoaning how unfair the Outpost castes were.

“I was just a few months shy of getting my Ph.D in Ancient Civilizations when the blasts fell,” she had replied, quietly bringing over the tea tray to serve them.

“How did you end up here?”

Which was a fair question. Most of the greys were picked by Venable, herself. She had chosen Eric, because he had been a chef at a swanky restaurant in LA. Jane had been an EMT. Emma had been a hotel maid. James, a struggling actor who had waited tables. Mal had been a personal assistant.

She had never asked, and Venable had never shared, how Maddie ended up in a bunker.

“I couldn’t say why I was picked.”

“You weren’t picked,” Venable said, looking at her with a renewed curiosity. As if being the sole-holder of Michael Langdon’s interest wasn’t enough, it seemed everyone wanted to know about her now. “You were on a roster that I was given prior to the war.”

“Wait, are you saying she bought a ticket?”

“No. There were some people chosen specifically by the Cooperative. They had their reasons, I’m sure, but they were never made clear before the blasts fell.”

“Who would have added her to the roster? Why the hell would the new world need someone who’s only knowledge was in the old, old world?” Coco had pushed before Venable shut down the subject altogether, leaving Maddie with more questions than she had started with.

She had always been under the impression that Venable had been the one to recruit her. To find out otherwise was shocking.

Why would the Cooperative choose her of all people? Coco’s words weren’t wrong.

Michael had told her about Sanctuary the night before. The people who he had chosen to survive were all forward-thinking people, driven to keep the world going. There wasn’t room for people like her.

And even if they were looking for an expert in the past, someone to remind them of their history, they would have gone with someone much older and more educated.

She was still a student, not even with a doctoral degree when she had been taken to the Outpost.

Who on the Cooperative could have made that call?

Michael? But she shook her head as soon as she thought about it. Michael was too surprised by her existence to have been involved. And besides, they had never once crossed paths before the war. She would have remembered him, even in passing.

He wasn’t exactly easy to overlook.

Still, she was desperate to ask him. Even if he didn’t know, she was certain he would have more insight and answers than anyone else.

The clock ticked on and on, slowly as it ever had.

She had never been great left alone with her thoughts. That was part of the reason she focused so much attention on recording and translating. It kept her occupied.

Maddie hugged her knees to her chest.

She had always looked forward to her evenings alone in the library. It was by far the best part of her day but now… now she was just desperate to be back with Michael. The time spent apart was almost painful.

Even when she was immersed in work, he was always on her mind. A part of her wanted to smack him for his behavior earlier, riling up the others and leaving her alone to deal with the fallout of his little Latin conversation. The rest of her just wanted to jump him.

It was only 12:24, but she couldn’t take it anymore. She quietly rose to her feet, careful not to let the bed creek. She tiptoed through the darkened room, leaving behind her journal. They’d barely touched on it last night and tonight, she just wanted to talk to Michael. And maybe a few other things.

Her lips twitched as she opened the door and slipped through. Gently, she closed it behind her. The latch shut and Maddie continued quietly down the hall, a small smile on her face as she made her way towards the library.

A hand warapped around her face and she was lifted from the ground before she could process the fact that she had been touched. A scream escaped her of its own volition but it was muffled by the hand as she was dragged back and into one of the empty rooms, used for storage.

The door closed behind them.

She struggled against her captor but her arms were pinned to her side. Her body was held against another, leaving her with nowhere to turn as her heart beat wildly against the confines of her chest.

“Shh, shh, shh, shh!” She was hushed by a familiar voice. “Don’t scream.”

James.

A wave of terror crept through her and he removed his hand. “James, what are you doing?” she asked, stilling herself.

Maybe, if he loosened his grip, she could make a run for it…

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

She went cold at his words, flinching despite herself. “Can-can you let me go?”

He clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid I can’t. Not until I know that you aren’t going to do anything stupid.”

“You’re hurting me,” she tried, playing on his empathy.

“You’ll be fine.” With the hand that had been covering her mouth, he stroked her hair. “I’ve never seen you with your hair down. It’s… lovely.”

“Thank you.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Every instinct she had told her to fight and scream but she fought them. They were far enough from the grey quarters that she might not be heard at all and James was a good head taller than her. She couldn’t take him in a fight.

And while the thought of playing along made her want to vomit, there was nothing else she could do.

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He pushed her hair back and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Another round of nausea rushed to the surface. She swallowed it back, pushing for her most tried and true tactic.

“James, this isn’t allowed.”

“Venable let Emily and Timothy get off without any consequences. Literally,” he chuckled to himself. “Even threw a party.”

“Still.” She shuddered as his hand trailed down to the top of her dress. He undid a button at her neck. Then another. “It’s not worth the risk of death.”

“Apparently, we’ll die either way. And I’d rather be shot to death by Venable than risk the cannibals on the outside.”

“It doesn’t have to be an either or.”

He undid another button and stiffened. His silence was deafening before he said, “But then it seems that another has gotten here first. You let Langdon fuck you, Maddie?”

She swallowed, having forgotten of the bruises at the base of her neck. “You don’t want to do this, James.”

“You’ve been telling me what I want and don’t want for far too long,” he growled, wrapping a hand around her throat. “You’ve always thought you were better than me.” She shook her head and his grip tightened. “Don’t fucking deny it. You’ve made it clear that you think you’re too good for me.”

So much for eighteen months of letting him down gently.

“Please don’t do this,” she tried one last time. “Just let me go. I won’t say a word about this to anyone. I promise.”

“I’ll make it good for you, Maddie. Even if you are just another whore.” His hand trailed down towards her breast, the arm around her torso loosening ever so slightly.

Maddie slammed her elbow back, twisting from his arms as he cried out in pain. Disoriented, she tried to turn to run to the door but was grabbed by the wrist. James yanked her back and she hissed in pain as her shoulder popped audibly. He shoved her towards the back of the room.

Maddie stumbled over a box and fell, crashing into a stored-away table. Her head bounced off the hardwood and she crumpled to the floor.

Stars overtook her vision and her mouth tasted of copper. Blood?

Her world was going dim, her eyelids drifting shut.

No. Can’t pass out. Not here.

She tried to open her eyes and whimpered as she found she couldn’t. She was grabbed, shoved to her back only to find that she couldn’t move for trying. His body crawled on top of hers and she couldn’t even lift an arm to strike out.

“You’re going to regret that, Maddie.”

Suddenly, there was a crash and a rush of hot air sweeping into the room and the weight above her was gone. A dark energy surrounded her. Another crash, not quite as loud, echoed around the space followed by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

Her head fell to the side and her eyes managed to crack open.

Michael had James against the wall and was beating him. Moving too fast for James to get a hit in, she could barely see his fists move. There was a sickening crunch of a bone breaking and James cried out in pain.

She could idly hear Michael speaking but it wasn’t in a language she recognized. It sounded like gibberish but, as he spoke, a grey mist seemed to spill from him.

Maddie blinked, uncertain of what she was seeing.

Hallucinating? She wondered as her head pounded painfully.

It felt like someone was physically taking a hammer to her skull. She cried out, barely withholding a sob.

Immediately, the sounds of the beating stopped and Michael was at her side.. She hadn’t even seen him move.

His face was paler than she had ever seen it. Was he wearing makeup? In her hazy-state, she almost thought she saw places where his skin was raised in the shapes of runes. His eyes were filled with flames.

And then it was gone.

Michael was staring down at her with his dark blue eyes, his features softening.

“I’ve got you, Madeline,” he promised, slipping his arms around her, one beneath her legs, the other under her back.

He lifted her with ease from the floor and she cried out again as her shoulder burned in agony.

His eyes flashed red again as he held her to his chest.

“I’m sorry, mu anassa,” he whispered.

And the room erupted in red. Startled, her eyes widened and she saw James lit on fire. His entire body, from head to toe, was engulfed in flames. For a split second, there was a piercing scream and then it was gone.

Or, rather, they were.

Michael had transmuted them across the Outpost. She recognized his bedroom as she was hit with another wave of nausea.

Michael was whispering to her, soothingly, as he laid her on his bed. It dipped slightly as she felt him sit next to her.

His fingers touched her forehead and the pain slowly dissipated, starting from where his fingers had touched and spreading back. The stars that had covered her vision were gone, as if they had never been there.

His hand trailed down and swept across her lips.

The taste of blood vanished.

“This might hurt,” he warned, sounding pained himself as he brought his hand to cover her shoulder.

Maddie bit her lip to keep from crying out but a small whine managed to escape before the pain, there, vanished with the rest.

Her breath hitched as she took account of her body. Less than a minute ago, she had been in blinding pain and now she was fine. Physically, at least. Not even the dullest of aches.

“H-how?” she whispered, unsure of what she was even asking.

How had he known she was in trouble? How had he lit James on fire? How had he healed her with a touch?

Yes, he was powerful but no witch or warlock was supposed to be that powerful. Alpha, Supreme, or not.

Michael reached up to cup her cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked. “Did I miss anywhere?”

She shook her head and noticed, only then, that she was trembling.

Michael’s face was tight, like he was fighting back emotions. “I’m so sorry, Madeline.”

Of all she could have expected him to say, that wasn’t it. “Sorry? You saved me.”

“I wasn’t there. I should have been there to walk you to the library. I should have known better than to leave you alone!” His words were gradually increasing in both volume and upset.

She reached out for the hand on his lap. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I could have,” he argued, shaking his head. “If I had just looked into his fucking head like I should have. I let myself take risks that I never should have with you in the picture.”

He continued ranting, his anger at himself palatable but Maddie was drawn to his words.

If I had just looked into his fucking head.

The more she learned, the more she was certain that Michael was far more than he said he was.

She thought back to the articles she had read on the witches when they first went public. Most witches had a gift, maybe two. Things they could do that no one else could. A great witch could have up to five gifts but only the best could master seven.

Michael had mastered far more than seven.

But she couldn’t bring herself to think about it yet.

Not when he was so distraught. Not when she was still shaking from fear and adrenaline.

When she thought about what could have happened if Michael hadn’t shown up…

She squeezed his hand tightly.

He turned his palm to face hers and squeezed back. “What can I do?”

“Just… Can you hold me for a few minutes?”

He nodded and Maddie pushed to a sitting position as Michael turned so his back was to the headboard. She curled into his side, letting her legs drape over his lap as she leaned into his touch.

His arms came around her and she wondered, for a moment, if the action would be too confining. If she’d be aching to escape the way she had tried to from James’ grasp but she only felt warm and safe.

For all his flaws, and fuck, he had flaws, she knew Michael would never hurt her.

She rested her head against his shoulder, nestling into the crook of his neck. She breathed in the warm, spicy scent of his skin mixed with the masculine fragrance from whatever he used on his hair.

My diva, she thought adoringly.

Michael ran a hand up and down her back, soothingly. “Would you like to talk about it?” he offered.

Desperately, although she feared Michael wouldn’t react well to any of it. He’d proven that already, though she was now doubting her memory.

Had Michael truly turned momentarily demonic and set James on fire? Or had her head injury been worse than she initially feared?

She breathed him in again, taking comfort in his presence.

“I was on my way to the library,” she said softly. “I have no idea where he was hiding but he grabbed me and covered my mouth so I couldn’t scream and dragged me off to that storeroom.”

Michael continued to stroke her back but she could feel his fingers had curled. She could feel the anger pulsing off him in waves. Still, she pushed on.

“He’s always been kind of pushy with me but he’d back off when I pushed back. And I’d always had the safety of Venable’s rules to fall back on. He wanted me, but not more than his life. But because Venable let Emily and Tim off the hook--”

“I never should have interfered,” he growled.

“No!” Maddie looked up and shook her head. “They didn’t deserve to die for what they did!”

“I don’t care what two half-witted kids do or don’t deserve.”

“Well, I do!” She reached for his face, turning him to face her. “And I know that you only saved them because I asked you too. And I didn’t get a chance to say thank you, earlier, but…”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, shaking his head. His lip curled in disgust. “Don’t thank me for coming in here and changing the rules that kept you safe until I could come for you.”

Again, there was something about his wording that threw her for a loop, but she didn’t get the feeling he was in the right place to tumble down that rabbit hole.

She shook her head. “I warned him that Venable might not be as kind two a grey as she was to a purple and he still said it was worth the risk. That he’d rather die by execution than cannibals.”

The news didn’t seem to set him on ease.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“I’m fine.” Michael’s words came through gritted teeth. “This isn’t about me. I wasn’t the one almost--”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it and she adored him for that, too.

“I wasn’t,” she reassured him. “You got there, got to me, in time. You saved me, Michael.”

His expression didn’t change but he let his arms slide around her, hugging her tightly. “Continue.”

Although she appreciated the effort, it probably was best to keep James' comments about her hickies and her relationship with Michael to herself.

"I tried to reason with him. When it didn't work, I tried to hit him, to escape but I didn't even get close to the door."

Fuck, it was embarrassing how pathetic her attempt had been. She should have hit him harder. Screamed even after she hit him, just in case someone heard.

"You did what you could," he reassured her.

Her lip quivered as it all came back to her at once. James pinning her in place, his grimy hands and his putrid words.

She stiffened and Michael murmured, "There it is."

She swallowed, trying to stop herself from crying when Michael reached up to her face, wiping away a tear she didn't know had fallen.

"Let it go."

She did, choking on a sob as the emotions overwhelmed her. Michael wrapped her up in his arms and Maddie curled into him.

"You're safe now," he whispered and she cried harder, burying her face against his chest. Michael cupped the back of her head, gently massaging her. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

And even as he offered her comfort, there was something utterly lethal about his tone. She didn’t doubt his words for an instant and she truly believed that Michael would kill anyone who looked at her wrong.

Her fingers dug into his shoulder as she sobbed.

She’d been so fucking terrified. She’d never felt more isolated or alone than she had in those few minutes. She’d never been more afraid than when James was touching her, refusing to let her go.

If Michael hadn’t been there…

And for so long, Michael hadn’t been there. Had James tried something even a week earlier, there would have been no one to save her.

No one had ever made her feel safe the way Michael did. Not her parents, not her family. No one. She couldn’t bring herself to care about the fact that she was pretty certain Michael had murdered James for touching her. The fear that was still coursing through her brought her pause and she thought good.

She cried for that. For the fact she was hopeful that a man had died, painfully. For how close a call it had been. For not being able to defend herself against that attack and needing someone else to save her.

And Michael just continued to hold her through her tears, occasionally offering reminders that she was safe. That he would never hurt her, that he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt her ever again.

How could James, who was considered to be a good, easy-going guy by everyone, have done something so vile while Michael, who didn’t seem to give a flying fuck if everyone on Outpost dropped dead tomorrow, present company excluded, had saved her? And comforted her?

Maddie felt her breath hitch as her tears began to subside.

Fear had been replaced by security.

Even so, a new emotion began rising to the forefront. Humiliation. For Michael to have seen her so weak… for her to have cried all over him. She swallowed back the fresh pain of knowing he had seen her so low.

She hiccuped softly and Michael offered her a handkerchief. She had no idea where he had gotten it from but she no longer felt the need to question him. He deserved a little more trust considering just how good he had been to her.

She blew her nose and wiped her eyes. When she was done, the handkerchief vanished into the air.

Michael reached for her face, tilting her chin up so he could look at her.

Maddie felt the flush stain her cheeks but she forced herself to hold his gaze, even through soaking lashes and what was likely blotchy skin.

“What can I do?” he asked and her heart ached.

He was too good to her.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice rough with emotion. “You’ve already done so much…”

Michael shook his head. “None of that. Please. What can I do for you?” At her silence, he pushed, “I can get you something to eat or drink. I can distract you. I can draw you a bath.”

The last was the most appealing but an impossibility.

“We don’t have the water rations on this Outpost for a bath.”

Michael huffed, reaching out his hand. She watched as a tiny rainstorm gathered six inches up from his palm and began to pour into his hand.

“And if you weren’t concerned about water rations?” Michael teased, his tone lightening.

It made her smile. She couldn’t help it as she turned back to him and nodded. “A bath would be good.”

Kissing her head, he untangled himself from her and got out of the bed. He walked over to a door just off his bedroom and left it open so she could see as he gathered a similar storm over the bathtub.

It sounded like rain falling and, in a way, it was.

She pushed up from the bed and followed him into the bathroom. She watched as the tub filled. The little droplets caused ripples, crashing into one another.

Steam rose from the water and she could feel the heat warming the bathroom.

A bath was such an unbelievable luxury, she almost couldn't fathom it.

"We should take you on tour," she muttered.

She felt ridiculous and clingy but she wrapped her arms around his middle. Michael didn't seem to mind, setting his own arm around her.

"Wine?" He offered but she shook her head, not wanting to let go.

She'd never been particularly needy. She was too touch-repulsed for that. It was a strange sensation to crave the touch and presence of another with all that she was.

And Michael, who was far more antisocial than her, took it all in stride.

Almost as if he could read her mind, he asked, "Do you want me to stay or go?"

"Stay. Please."

“Good.”

She smiled, relieved.

It was nice to know, the midst of her own pain and confusion, that he was just as crazy when it came to her as she was for him.

Reluctantly, she pulled away and turned around. She meant what she said-- she didn’t want him to leave but somehow, in her exhausted state, it had slipped her mind that she needed to be naked for the tub.

Maddie raised her chin. Fuck it. He’d already seen the most intimate parts of her. And she hadn’t let Michael intimidate her yet. She’d be damned if she started now.

She unbuttoned her dress down to her waist before letting it fall to the floor, leaving her in the fitted slip and underwear that passed as lingerie in Venable’s new world.

Summoning her courage or, more accurately, her ability to block out the part of her brain that controlled shame and self-preservation, she disposed of those, too.

She leaned down the ivory claw-footed tub and touched the water to test it. She noticed the way Michael breathed sharply and she smiled.

The water was perfect. She couldn’t have drawn it better if she had tried. Hot, but not scalding. She breathed in the steam and was surprised to find it scented like roses. Michael was just full of surprises.

Maddie stepped into the tub carefully, slowly letting herself sink down into the water. At once, her body seemed to relax, the tension easing away. Hugging her knees to her chest, she looked back.

Michael was watching her, his eyes dark. He was still fully dressed. His body was stiff and he stood perfectly still as he watched her. She swallowed under his scrutiny.

“Are you coming?” she asked with far more confidence than she felt.

His face was stone as he blinked and his clothes vanished. She kept her gaze locked on his as he stepped behind her. She moved forward slightly, making room to accommodate him. The water rose as he slipped in, stretching out his legs on either side of her.

He brushed her hair around so that it all fell down her right shoulder. His arm went around her, just below her breasts, settling her against him as Michael relaxed back against the edge of the tub.

She was draped across his bare chest, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm kept her from slipping and Maddie couldn’t help but sigh contentedly.

He kissed her temple.

“You have no idea how much I needed this,” she said, reveling in the feel of him and the warmth from the water.

“How was the rest of your day?”

“I’ve had worse, but…”

“But?”

“I’ve had better,” she admitted. “Lowlights from today, what happened tonight notwithstanding, include dealing with the fallout of your little Latin communique this afternoon and two hours of dealing with Coco and Gallant, which peaked when Coco asked me if you enjoyed analingus.”

Michael chuckled. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her to ask you, herself.”

She was facing away but she could practically see him wince. “Thanks for that.”

“Least I could do. You, somehow, knocked me out for two hours of sleep and I’ve dealt with eighty hours of the inquisition as a result.”

“It’s been less than forty,” he noted offhandedly.

Maddie glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t test me, Langdon.”

“Never,” he agreed.

She leaned back against him, closing her eyes again. “And I will get you back for the mess this afternoon. What’d you think was going to happen when you burst into a dead language in front of half the Outpost?”

He smiled at the memory. “Well, I was hoping you would take my offer to get you away from all of them. I could have saved you from all that backlash but you were too proud. In fact,” Michael reached down to her left hand. He picked it up from out of the water and tugged it back until it reached his mouth. He nipped her forefinger. “I believe you told me to bite you.”

Her lips twitched at the memory. The way he had slowly smiled at her words and rude gesture, teasing her back that later, he would.

It had been worth the bullshit question she’d been asked as a result to see him smile like that, just for her.

The things she would do for him, put up with for him, astounded her.

"I should have known how you would have taken that particular sentiment," she teased. "You have a dirty, dirty mind."

"Only for you, mu anassa."

She smiled at the endearment. Ancient Greek for my queen. Then she blinked.

He had used it once before, earlier that night, but she had missed it.

But the first time he had called her that was in her dream, when he was taunting to tell him where to touch her.

A coincidence?

That Michael would use such an obscure term to describe her both in her dreams and in real life? No, she didn't think so.

Mark joining dreams down as another ability possessed by the great Michael Langdon.

She was very glad to be on his good side.

"Tell me about your day," she said, wondering if he ever had someone close enough to ask him such mundane questions.

His arm tightened slightly, telling her he really didn't have anyone like that.

"Started well. I had a library date with a pretty girl," he whispered in her ear. His words brought a smile to her face. "Unfortunately, it all went down from there. Dull interview after dull interview. Blank stare after blank stare."

"You just hate everybody, don't you?"

"Hate requires a certain level of care. I am entirely apathetic to the matter."

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

She turned in the tub so that she was on her side. Better able to look at him and see the way his blond hair framed his face. It glowed like a halo in the candlelight.

"Why did you come here? You run the Cooperative. Checking on the Outposts and judging who is fit for Sanctuary seems… I don't know. Like something you'd pawn off on a lackey."

He raised a hand, rubbing circles on her back. "You have me all figured out, don't you, little one?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I've barely scratched the surface."

"You're right, of course. I typically prefer to delegate, but I'm not omnipotent nor am I all-knowing. In my life, I've had a handful of others who's counsel I take. Two trusted advisors, who I trust above all others. You will meet them both soon. And two creatures that I simply cannot seem to deny anything. My father is one of them."

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Your father is alive?"

His lips twitched. "Like a cockroach, I truly believe that my father could survive anything."

She thought back to everything he had told her about his life growing up. She already wasn't the biggest fan of the man but the way Michael talked about him made it seem as if he were rather ambivalent.

"You don't sound too fond of him."

"We're alike in many ways. A fact that is often to our detriment. He was the one who told me to check on the Outposts. In hindsight, I'm glad he did. It was on my to-do list but I kept putting it off." He gazed at her with reverence. "I will forever regret taking so long to find you, Madeline. And I will spend an eternity making it up to you."

There was remorse in his voice. True remorse. None of the false inflections he used when he spoke with Venable or any of the others on the Outpost.

It tugged at her heart.

"And if I told you that you have nothing to make up for?"

"I would disagree. And I would make up for it anyway."

Her lips twitched. "An eternity, huh?"

Michael nodded, looking quite serious. "I'm afraid so."

The thought warmed her and she laid her head on his broad chest. His other arm wrapped around her, encasing her. She was never safer than in his arms.

Her hand laid on his sternum, her fingers teasing him softly.

"Who's the other?" she asked, almost as an afterthought.

"Pardon?"

"You said there were two people you can't say no to. One of them is your father. Who is the other?"

He gave her a pointed stare. "I think it should be quite obvious."

Her heart stuttered in her chest.

An eternity with Michael Langdon sounded pretty damn good.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x oc #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x named reader #ahs8 #american horror story apocalypse #apocalypse #mallory (ahs)#coco st. pierre vanderbilt #mr. gallant #ms. venable #ahs fanfic

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stupidocupido · 5 years

Text

tous les mêmes

tous les mêmes, a Split (2016) AU.

Three witches wake up in an unknown place after being attacked by a man. Abused and scared they wait in a locked room for what’s next. The one who took them is not like others, because he is not really one person. Stuck in his body are multiple personalities. All waiting for the worst one to come out...

I came up with this idea about a year ago as a joke during a convo with @/avesatanormalpeoplescareme (gone but not forgotten lol). She actually kinda came up with the ending, so I have to give her credit for that!

This fic is also published at the archive.

Warnings: non-con, dubcon, sexual content, kidnapping, violence, stockholm syndrome, told in fragments, christian!reader, virgin!reader

Involves: jim, michael, duncan and xavier (and some more)

Tous les mêmes

one Her head is throbbing, her muscles are sore. Her eyes are still closed, she is afraid to open them. There hangs an iron like smell in the air, the air itself is pressing on her loins. Her hand goes to her neck, her fingers automatically close around the silver cross that is hanging there.

The weak cough that is coming from her left makes her eyes finally snap open. She immediately scans the room for an exit. There is only one, and it is closed. There are no windows either, their light comes from a single fluorescent light bulb on the ceiling.

It feels like she’s underground, but for all she knows she can be in some sort of garage as well.

There is another cough, and her eyes finally find the source of it. It is fellow witch Coco St. Pierre Vanderbilt. Sitting with her on the bed is Mallory, another witch. She sits up straight now, watching the other girls.

“Where are we?” Coco asks.

What a dumb question. As if they’re not locked in the same room. She remembers the attack. There had been a fight, someone had attacked them from behind. Her hand goes automatically to her cheek when she thinks about earlier. Her skin feels painful and is burning. She can feel dried up blood where it hurts.

The other two girls don’t look too good either. Coco her blonde hair is a mess, her blouse is ripped, and the skin around her left eye is blue. Mallory looks even worse, her lip is split and there is blood beneath her nose.

Mallory does not ask questions. She places an calming hand on Coco’s trembling shoulders. “That does not matter, what matters is how we get out.”

“Good, you girls are awake.”

Three heads turn around to watch where the sound comes from.

A tall blonde man watches them from the opened door. His grey blouse seems expensive. His hair is kept back with lots of gel. He is the one who attacked him, he is the one who took them. But somehow, he looks different now.

She doesn’t know what it is. But when his eyes fall into hers, she needs to resist the urge to grab for her necklace. His stare is so intense, almost as if he is trying to find her biggest weakness. She stares back at him, trying to remember his face for when they escape.

When he looks away, her stomach feels heavy and her head is weirdly light.

“Don’t bother trying your magic on me. Magic doesn’t work here.”

He is looking at Mallory’s fists now.

“You. You seem feisty, I choose you.”

Mallory is the strongest of the three of them. But without her magic she is just a small girl with not a lot muscle to defend herself from her much taller attacker. The man grabs her, a nasty grin on his handsome face. Mallory struggles, but he is too strong for her. So she screams, the first thing she learned. “Pee yourself! Pee yourself!”

Coco tries to free Mallory from their kidnapper, but she’s not strong enough. And when the door closes, it’s just the two of them. Coco is trying to get the door open, to save her friend. Her nails are scratching the iron and she’s screaming Mallory’s name. She is still sitting on her bed, frozen and afraid.

It’s a minute later when the door is smashed open again. Coco falls on the ground. A crying Mallory gets pushed into the room again by their kidnapper. He looks disgusted, Mallory her legs are wet. The door closes with a bang and it’s the three of them again.

Much later is Coco still holding the crying Mallory. She is stroking her back, whispering words she cannot hear. She feels like she is watching someone else’s tragedy from the rusty bed. And it always had been like this. At the academy where Cordelia only has eyes for her star pupils.

She is nothing like them, even though she so badly wants to fit in. She is an unusual duck in a group of swans. She belongs in the water; yes. But she does not belong with them.

two They’re trying to come up with a way to escape without having to use magic. They can be smart, there must be a way to trick their capturer. They had of course tried using magic, but he had not lied. Nothing worked, it seemed all they had now was their fists and intelligence.

“Maybe we can distract him. If one of us can escape it’ll be enough.” Mallory tries.

“We don’t know where we are! Maybe we are in the basement of some cult. How can you be so sure there aren’t other doors behind this one?” She shakes her head, there must be another way.

“Then what do you propose? That we wait around for Cordelia to get us? We may be dead by then.” Coco’s voice is annoyed. She shrugs, she doesn’t know what to do either. But running doesn’t seem like the best option.

When the door opens again the witches stop their whispering. He is wearing a long black dress now. His hair is styled in a different way. His eyes scan their faces and the way they look.

“Don’t you kids look awful, oh sweet Satan! I knew he wouldn’t be able to control his urges.” He shakes his head. His voice sounds different than before. It’s higher pitched, it almost has something feminine.

The three witches share a look, none of them know what is going on. Maybe he is playing with them to confuse them. To make them weaker, to make them easier to take when he is done playing.

“He knows he is not allowed to touch any of you. I will talk with him.” He shakes his head again.

Then his eyes fall upon her face. She feels herself getting cold when his eyes are staring her up and down. Is he going to take her now?

He comes closer, there is concern in his eyes. She can see how Coco and Mallory look at each other and then at the door he had left open.

He leans down, so that they are on eye level. She does not move away when his hand goes to touch her face. Long fingers trace the cut on her cheek. His fingers are cold against the throbbing skin. His blue eyes are filled with wonder as he leans in closer to examine the wound. “Don’t you worry my dear, I will take care of you.”

“Who are you?” It’s a way to keep him distracted, but she is also genuinely interested. Why is he acting like he is someone else?

“Oh, silly, I am Ms. Mead of course.”

His eyes are so blue, that she is taken back by them. Now his hair is not being kept back by gel, it gives it the chance to be in its natural state. His blonde curls are wild and beautiful. He does not look crazy to her, not like someone who would kidnap three girls. But he knows they have magic, there must be something more.

There is something about his face that feels familiar. Maybe it is because it straight comes from the paintings how they image heaven to be like.

He is studying her as she is studying him. There is something about him that is not right. But there is also something that is very right. Something familiar, something that reminds her of Cordelia and nights of studying magic spells.

“Coco! Run!”

The spell is broken, he is someone else now. Something changes in his eyes, she can’t exactly pinpoint what it was, but something is different. He stands up so sudden it hurts her head. She scrambles back on the bed, afraid for what he is going to do now.

But he does nothing, he stays very calm. Too calm. He turns his back on her, facing the opened door where Coco ran through instead. He looks more annoyed than panicked.

“Did you really think I don’t have this whole place locked down? After every door you will find a new one.”

A desperate cry is the proof of his words. He leaves the other two witches without giving them another glance. And when the door closes behind him, the echo from Coco’s screams can still be heard in their room much later.

three “Where is Coco?” Mallory her voice is sharp. He looks more optimistic than normal. He is wearing earrings and shorts now. Another personality? So far, they had met three versions of him. The one who took them, Ms. Mead and now this one.

He walks towards Mallory, squeezing her cheek. “Coco is where all good girls go to.” His voice is amused. This character seems to be more of a tease than the others.

“And where do good girls go?” Mallory is not afraid and she damns her for it. Why can’t she be quiet? He laughs loudly, finally letting go of her cheek.

“I don’t know, ask Billie Eilish.”

He looks around the room. “Pff, this place is a mess.” He places his hands on his hips, he is looking at her now. She rolls her eyes, finally showing some sort of emotion. But it is Mallory who once again says something.

“Didn’t you know that kidnappers don’t hire cleaners?”

She sends Mallory a look. Does the girl have a death wish? Normally she would understand Mallory’s confidence. She is the future supreme after all. Mallory is popular because she is kind. Confident because she is loved and fearless because she is powerful. But she is none of that right now.

He looks Mallory up and down, his smile almost mocking her.

“You all look hungry, let me make you girls a sandwich. The best chef in the world taught me how to do so.”

He opens the door again, gesturing with his hand that they should follow him. They both stand up from their beds, she walks behind Mallory away from their prison.

Where their room is dimly lit, the hallways are anything but. The place is sterile, and everything is white. It reminds her of a hospital or maybe even a lab. There are a lot of doors, but none of them indicate Coco’s presence. She wonders if the other witch is still here. She doesn’t want to think about other options.

The kitchen he leads them to is really messy. But here the floor and walls are white as well. There are again no windows. This makes her think they might be underground after all. However, it is clear that this place is huge.

He gestures them to sit down at the table. He turns his back on them. He is gathering bread, peanut butter and jam. Her eyes stay on the large knife in his hands. He uses it to put everything on the bread.

“What is your name?” She breaks the silence. She watches how he cuts the sandwiches in half with the large knife. The chairs they’re sitting on are very uncomfortable. Mallory moves in her chair. She’s watching the knife as well.

He looks over his shoulder, showing her his white teeth. “Xavier.”

When he turns his back to the counter, he has two plates in his hands. He had made them peanut jelly sandwiches. She stares at the bread, wondering if it might be poisoned.

Mallory is the first one to bite into the food. So she follows. Slowly she chews on the bread, it doesn’t taste like it’s poisoned.

“And?

Do you like it?” He watches them eat. He seems to be impatient for an answer.

Her and Mallory share a look, before nodding. “It’s delicious, you should become a professional.” She is being truthful; the food is good. But perhaps it is also because it’s the first thing she ate in a while.

“Neh, I want to be an actor. You girls want another one?” He is looking at their empty plates.

Mallory smiles very careful. She can see something building in her dark eyes, she is planning something. “That would be amazing, thank you.”

Xavier moves to the counter again. He takes four slices of bread, throwing them on the cutting board without a care.

“The trick is to use just a little bit more jelly. And always put it on white bread.” While Xavier is working on the sandwiches, Mallory had stood up from her chair. She is moving quietly away from the table, to stand behind it.

She makes eye contact with her. Shaking her head, pointing with her head towards the big knife he has in his hand. But Mallory ignores her. Her hands wrap around the chair, pulling it from the ground.

She throws the chair against his back with all her strength. He falls down against the counter, the knife still in his hand. He lets out a painful gasp. When he turns around, Mallory is throwing her plate in his direction. It hits his chest, it breaks in three pieces when it falls to the ground.

Mallory wastes no time, sprinting towards the door. It is not locked, but she can see from here that behind the door is another hallway.

Xavier looks at the door and then at her. His cheeks are flustered with anger.

“Go to your room.” His voice is murderous, his eyes are flaming.

“NOW!”

He shouts when she doesn’t move. She is too afraid to not do what he told her to do. So she runs from the kitchen, runs through the white hallways and lets herself fall on her thin mattress.

There she prays and cries for her sisters. She prays for Mallory to get out and for them to be saved. She prays for Cordelia to find them and for Coco to still be alive.

It’s hours later that she stops mumbling to her god. Mallory doesn’t return and neither does he to lock the door again.

With cheeks that are wet and a throat that is sore, she watches how the lights in the halls turn off. Will she ever get out of here?

four His feet are bare, he is wearing a yellow shirt and his hair is messy. He is sitting in the opened door, watching how she slept. Or more like how she pretended to sleep.

“What is your name? I am Michael.” He sounds very young, his head is tilted like a dog that is waiting for a treat.

She tells him her name. He does not stand up, instead he moves his knees to come closer to her. He is holding something in his hands. She can’t see what it is.

“What is your favourite colour? Mine is red.” She frowns at his question. What does he want?

“I don’t think I have one.”

He lets out an annoyed sound. “Who doesn’t have a favourite colour? You’re weird.” She tries not to feel offended, not when he is acting like a young child. But what if he is that young child? What if this is her way out?

“Michael, how old are you?”

“Ten, how old are you?”

She laughs, surprised with his answer. It doesn’t look like he is playing her. He seems to think he really is a ten-year-old boy.

“A little older than you, I am afraid.”

“Oh. Will you play a game with me?” He shows her what he had been hiding from her. It’s a small red racing car. It looks so small in his large hands, it isn’t right. She looks up to watch his face instead. She swallows, her stomach empty, her throat begging for water. But she knows it is better to amuse her captor and his many personalities.

“I am too thirsty to play games, Michael.”

She can see something change in his demeanor; like a child who does not get what he wants this grown man is about to cry. She wonders, how can he be so dominating and small at the same time?

How can he be grown but still look like a child? She grips his hands before he can cry. His eyes immediately go to where she holds him.

“Maybe you can get me some water? We can play after.”

But Michael shakes his head, already moving away from her. “I don’t think Duncan will like that, but maybe Ms. Mead can bring you some.”

She grabs his arm before he can truly leave her. “We can play later then. Maybe tomorrow night?”

He looks down at where she is holding him, but when he looks up again, he is smiling.

“As long as you don’t tell the others I was here!”

She smiles, letting go off his arm. “It will be our secret.”

five “How many of you are there?” He had brought a box with toys the next night. She’s sitting on the thin mattress now, he is still on the floor. The cars and the dolls they were playing with long forgotten.

“About ten. But Duncan and Ms. Mead are the strongest ones.”

Duncan, Ms. Mead, Xavier, Michael.

That are four, will she ever meet the other six? Does she want to meet the other six? Michael had picked up a game console from the ground. It’s an old Gameboy, she used to own one that looked exactly like this one.

But Michael doesn’t turn it on to play, instead he is watching her necklace. “Do you believe there is a god?”

“Yes.”

“Then you also must believe there is a devil.” She feels uncomfortable, she doesn’t like to think about there being one.

“I guess there must be evil as well.”

“He is in us. They’re trying to lure him out. That’s why the three of you were taken. But I won’t let them hurt you! We’re friends now!”

He is offering her the Gameboy. She can feel her stomach turn over. She thinks everyone has something evil inside of them, but the literal devil? But she nods, taking the game console from Michael.

“Yes, we are friends.”

“I don’t think you are a good friend.” A different voice, his smile is even different now. She let’s go of the game console, it falls down to the ground.

He is eyeing the cross that’s hanging just above her breast like Michael did.

“I bet you are one of those virgin girls who say they gave themselves to god. But I know you are a freak, ready to be ripped apart.” She knows this personality; it is the one that took them. Duncan, the cocky fuck boy. If they weren’t captured Madison probably would have liked to fuck him, just to degrade him.

Her hand goes to the cross hanging just above her breasts, she refuses to answer him. The steel is warmed by her skin, it feels comfortable in the palm of her hand. A beacon of hope, she does not dare to pray now. But when she is alone, she does.

“I bet your cunt will be so tight when I take your virginity. I bet you will bleed, I bet you will scream for me.” Duncan comes dangerously close to her bed. She looks away from him, watching her knees, she tries to control her breathing.

The mattress sinks where he sits on it. She wants to move away from him, but his hand is cupping her cheek, forcing her face in his direction. “Will you be a good Christian girl for me? I can be your god.”

She moves her head away from him, shifting her body to the other side of the bed.

“You are no god.”

It is the first thing she says. It makes Duncan laugh; his body is shaking with it. Duncan his laugh is different from Ms. Mead’s and even Michael’s laugh. He moves closer to her body, gripping her leg. He is too strong for her.

“No, we are the devil. And right now I want to taste one of god’s fruits.” He pushes her down, she screams. She tries to hit him, but it has no use. She closes her eyes when his hand grabs her breast. She prays to a god, who does not seem to care. Why her? Why was she taken?

“I bet you like this, I bet this is what you pray for when the door closes.” With his other hand he opens the blouse. Impatient he pulls at the buttons, he almost tears the fabric apart. His cold hand goes into her blouse, his hand is pushed into her bra. His nails press into her flesh when he cups her breast. She cries out in pain, her body struggling against his.

Duncan his breath is hot against her skin, his hand kneads her breast. She tries to escape, but it has no use. His mouth is placed against the pulse in her throat, he sucks at the skin very lightly. The moan she lets out because of his motions stiffens her.

And then suddenly he moves away. His breathing is uneven, his hair is a mess. “I am sorry, I am sorry. Please forgive us. He knows he is not allowed to touch you; but sometimes he has urges.” Another personality, she does not know this one yet.

“Who are you?” She asks, closing the blouse Duncan had opened so forcefully. He gives her a weak smile.

“Jim.”

six It is Jim who opens the door the next time and all the times after. She can see it in the way he walks and in the way he smiles. Even his face is softer than the other personalities. Where she tried to manipulate Michael first, she now knows she should try Jim.

In the beginning he doesn’t talk a lot about himself, but he is very interested in her. Everything she tells him; he seems to care about. Always asking for more and more. From her favourite colour to what she likes to drink before she goes to bed. From her first love to her worst fears.

She tells him, because there is nothing else to do. She can’t escape him anyway. Whenever she thinks she has a chance, Jim slips away from her.

Jim only starts telling her more about his past after a few days. He was the first one. The only one. But due to circumstances at home he had turned to drugs. Maybe it was the trauma of having an abusive mother, a father that doesn’t care and a sister that doesn’t understand him what caused all of this. Maybe he took too much drugs and created someone who cares. Someone who understands, someone who will never leave him behind.

His parents had died during a tragic fire, where their whole house burned to the ground. His sister had decided to leave it all behind. Travelling the world for her to never return. Leaving him alone and unloved.

She can see him now, alone in a burned house with no one who cares about him. The only one he had was himself, so maybe that is why he decided to create people who would care.

Or maybe all of it is real. Maybe there are personalities trapped inside this man. He did know they were witches. Maybe he is cursed, maybe that is why he took them. Hoping that the three of them could help him to become just Jim again. She doesn’t know why she is here. But what she does know, is that she feels sorry for Jim.

He needs to be loved; he does not deserve to be sad.

“All I ever really wanted to do was surf.” His smile is so sad that it burns. It might have been weeks, it might have been just a couple days. But he is all she knows now, the only friendly face, the only one who cares about her. The one who knows what others don’t, and the one who was willing to ask for more. When she is with him, she no longer is just a duck swimming in the same direction as the more majestic swans. With him, she is something entirely rare. He makes her feel like she is like there is no one else like her.

And when he tells her with eyes filled with years that he wants her to be free, she isn’t so sure if she wants to be. He tells her that he had tried to free them. But when he even thinks about not locking the doors, they take over.

But the thought alone is enough, he does not want to steal her freedom. He wants her, them, to be free. And she wants that for him as well, she wants him to taste what freedom is. She wants them to taste it together.

She can heal him; magic can make him whole again. She can make his days bright and they can just do what he always had wanted to do.

So she is the one to kiss him when he tells her his favourite colour is blue. Long but soft, eager to heal all that once burned with pain. To kiss his aching away and make him forget about the others. Her fingers are digging in his hair, the taste of him on her tongue. He smells like the sea, and it feels like she’s in falling into deep waters.

They kiss and kiss, until her lips grow sore and her panties are wet.

When he leaves, she slides the cross between her index and middle finger. Asking god why something forbidden feels so right.

She thinks of blue and how he described it. How it is the sky and how it is the sea. How it is sadness and how it is honesty. But to her, it is only his eyes. And that might be her new favourite thing.

seven “I want you to be free, really.” He is grabbing her hand, as if he is afraid his words aren’t enough to convince her. But she doesn’t need much convincing to know that he is being truthful. She moves their intertwined fingers up to her face. She pushes her head against the back of his hand, a small smile is playing on her lips.

“Maybe we can start small. Why don’t we go to your room?”

He takes her to the kitchen, her hand in his. He opens the door, behind it there is another hallway. This place is so much like a maze, that she wonders if it was built to keep people in. Maybe it was built to keep them in, but it could also be built to keep him in.

This hallway is not empty. There are all sorts of electronica lying around. She even spots an ancient computer screen. There are multiple doors here as well, but he is leading them towards the one opposite the door they came from. He does not give her the chance to take the place properly in. He almost seems desperate in his movements. Almost as if he is afraid another personality will take over if he’s not fast enough.

Behind the second door is grey concrete stairwell that goes up. This place is badly lighted. It reminds her of the stairs that are in underground parking lots.

It maybe takes them five minutes to reach the top. And at the top there is another closed door. He unlocks that door and when he opens it, her eyes need to adjust to the bright light.

She knows better to ask what kind of place this is. But it seems like her earlier guesses where right. They are in some sort lab. The third door had led them to some sort of welcoming hall. There is one desk standing in the weird room and it’s empty. Maybe it’s night. She can’t really tell the time anymore.

The fourth door he opens, leads them finally to his bedroom.

It’s not a big room. It almost looks like some sort prison cell. His bed is placed against the concrete wall. There are no windows and the walls are empty. There is a small dresser opposite the bed and there are toys on the floor. They’re Michael’s, she recognized the red car immediately.

Jim closes the door behind them, she pretends she doesn’t notice that he locks it.

“They’re still alive.” He suddenly tells her when they sit down on his bed.

She is ashamed for not asking it herself. She had only been thinking about him and how she could save them. Never thinking about the wellbeing of Mallory and Coco.

Jim frowns. “You don’t look happy. They’re kind of your sisters, right?”

She shakes her head.

“I don’t think I ever really belonged with them. I love them and they love me. But it’s never as much as they love each other.”

Jim is silent for a while. She doesn’t mind the silence; she has a lot to think about. Being a witch is everything that her faith taught her to be wrong. So it was real shock for her to discover she actually is what her parents consider a sin. She hasn’t spoken with her parents ever since she moved to New Orleans. The other girls are all that she has left.

“Maybe we all are just trying to find something to hold onto. You your faith and perhaps the other witches. Me the others inside of me.” Jim his voice is soft, he is not looking at her, he’s watching the wall. She grabs his hand, forcing his attention on her once again. She let’s go when she has his attention.

“Do you ever feel alone?” She asks.

“All the time, even though I never really am. There is no one who can truly understand what it’s like to be me.”

Her smile is sad, because he is right. She will never understand what it’s like to be him. But in return he will never know how it is to be like her.

“I feel so empty most of the time, as if something is missing. As if a part of me was taken when I found out I was a witch.”

“Because of your faith?” He looks at her again. She shrugs, not sure what exactly is what makes her feel like this.

“I guess so.”

Jim is silent, when he speaks again his voice is very soft.

“It feels like you understand me better than anyone else ever has.” He is looking at his knees. His sad tone breaks her heart. She grabs his hand again, her other she brings to his face. She is touching his chin, forcing his head up.

“Maybe it’s because they never tried to.” She whispers. He opens his mouth to immediately close it again. He leans closer, her hand still on his face.

There is an urgency in his kiss that never was there before. She doesn’t mind it, welcomes it even. She feels like a walking cliché, but with every kiss he gives her, she wants more. She moves her legs up the bed, allowing him to push her down on it.

Her hands creep up under the shirt he’s wearing. His skin is smooth beneath her exploring fingers. He almost has no scars. She expected there to be burns, because of the story how his parents had died. But there are none. Maybe he had been safely outside when it had happened.

He helps her take his shirt off, he throws it next to his bed. She can feel the heat of his skin through her blouse. And it’s not enough, she wants to feel his skin against her own. He is fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. One by one he opens them, exposing her skin to the cold air of his room.

He kisses her again, leaving wet prints of his lips on her skin. He goes lower and lower, until he is at her pants. When he looks up, she only nods.

She wiggles from her pants, leaving her in only her underwear.

Jim does not stare at her body, instead he looks at her face. He places his warm hand on her stomach, he slowly moves it down. He moves his hand until it is between her legs. She feels heated, with him being so close to where no one was before. The only thing between their skin, is the thin cotton of her underwear.

He never loses eye contact. When she doesn’t stop him, he looks away. He starts to rub over her underwear. First only his thumb. But when her body starts to relax, he removes his thumb with index and middle finger. He moves in a slow steady pace, which feels really good.

She had touched herself before. But being touched by someone else is different. It’s a good different, she decides. But maybe that is because he knows what is doing. Not too much pressure, but he’s also not too soft with her. It’s almost as if he knows exactly what she wants.

“Oh Jim, it feels so good.”

He takes this is as an invitation to slide her underwear down her legs. He continues his rubbing, but it feels even better now. His fingers slide easy through her wet folds. It didn’t take him much at all to make her this wet.

Maybe it is because he is so careful, maybe it is because she’s so turned on, but it doesn’t feel as weird as she thought it would be when he pushes one finger inside of her.

His finger is obviously larger than hers. At first that’s the only thing she can think of. How it feels to have him inside of her. But when the feeling becomes somewhat normal, she can focus on the pleasure it brings her.

She doesn’t even really notice he had added a second finger. Her hips move shamelessly into his touch, her soft moans are filling her own ears. She didn’t know she could make sounds like that. But it only feels natural. He is so soft with her, so sweet for her. Her hands grab for the sheets. The cotton clenched in her sweaty fists. The soft moan she lets out sounds like his name, when the feeling of release washes over her.

His palm is wet because of her, she almost feels ashamed when she sees it. Jim brings his hand to his face, sniffing her scent in. It is a bit weird to her, but in a way it’s also very hot.

He is pulling his pants down now, exposing the bulge in his boxers. A jolt goes through her body. She did this. She isn’t sure why she likes it so much. Maybe because this means she has as much control over him as he has over her.

“Lie down.” She orders him. He does what he is told, watching how she is the one exploring his body now. She doesn’t kiss him like he was kissing her, she only gives him a very light touch. Her index finger tracing from beauty mark to beauty mark. When she arrives at his underwear, she looks at him again.

“Do you want me to touch you there?”

“Fuck, yes.”

He pushes his body up so she can remove his underwear. His cock springs free, almost hitting his stomach in the process. She has never seen one this close before. She is fascinated by it. By how soft and vulnerable it looks. She wonders how it feels like. Does she need to be soft with it, or does he prefer someone who is rough? She looks away from it, afraid to make him feel uncomfortable if she stares for too long.

“Can you show me how to touch you?” Her cheeks grow hot, she feels embarrassed that she has to ask. Jim sits up a little, leaning on one elbow.

“Give me your hand.”

He brings her hand to his cock. “Just wrap your hand around it.” He feels warm in her hand, and she likes how it feels. He wraps his hand around hers then. He starts to move their hands down and up. Up and down, down and up. Until they fall in a pace he apparently likes.

When he removes his hand from hers, she keeps up the pace he had set. She moves her hand like he showed her to do. A bit hesitant at first, but she grows more confident when he lets out a low moan.

She decides to test it a little. She goes a little slower, to go faster again when he lets out another moan. She leans closer to it, so she can place her free hand beneath the moving one.

With every sound he lets out, she grows more confident. Her hand goes down to cup his balls. She once had one of the witches talk about them and how they should not be forgotten.

“Stop, or I’ll come.” His voice is sharp, it almost sounds pained. She removes her hands immediately, afraid she did something wrong.

She turns her head to watch him. When looks up to her it’s as if nothing else really matters anymore. He loves her and she thinks she can love him. They’re all God’s creatures and she was taught to care for them all. She never felt like this before. Is it her wanting to fix him? Or is because she really loves him? And does it really matter?

“Kiss me.” She doesn’t know what else to say, not when his body is trembling under her touch like this.

He obeys, he crawls on top of her so he can kiss her. His skin is so hot against hers, it makes her feverish. She wants all of it, she wants to be burned by his skin and touch. She wants to burn to ashes with him. Collided, connected, together forever. She wants all of him, she wants him to have all of her.

His cock is hard and ready against her stomach, he must want her as badly as she wants him.

“Jim, I am ready.”

“Are you sure?” She can feel him against her entrance. And she knows she’s ready for this. She reaches her hands out to touch his face. His beautiful, angelic face. She moves her hands from his face, bringing them slowly to his back.

“Yes, I want this.” He kisses her again. Her nose, her cheek, her mouth and her throat. She sighs, her finger spread on his skin. He enters her very slowly. He kisses her when she lets out a gasp when he’s fully inside.

And for a very blissful moment she feels whole again. There is no pain, only a dull ache. The feeling of being one, the feeling of being with someone you love. She never thought she would give herself away in a situation like this. But it is happening right now, and it feels so good.

Jim his eyes are closed, his body is trying to stay still. His hands are placed on the pillow on both sides of her head. She can see sweat dripping between his furrowed brows. “You feel so good, you’re so tight. Please tell me it does not hurt.”

Her hands move up, her fingers intertwined with his curls. “No, you feel very good, it does not hurt.” This is all Jim needs to hear to start his movements.

Tears fall from her eyes, not out of pain but because all the emotions that are swirling around her head. What is she doing? Why is she doing this? But all of her doubts shatter when his hips fall down on hers once again.

A surprised moan comes out when he hits a spot. She did not expect for it to feel good. “What was that?” He immediately asks, his voice worried.

“Do that again.” She says breathlessly.

Jim circles his hips in a way, the thrust harder this time. It hurts a little, but it is not an unpleasant feeling. It reminds her of the feeling that comes with pushing on blue marks. She used to do that a lot when she was younger, the pain it gives is dull enough. Only this feels better, this is the best kind of hurt.

Her nails are scraping his back. The skin destroyed beneath her nails. Suddenly his movements become rougher, the voice he speaks with now different.

“I knew you were a freak!”

This is not Jim, this is someone else. She tries to push him off, but he won’t move. Her nails curl into his skin. “Go away, I don’t want you here.”

She finally is able to push him of her. He laughs when he falls down on the mattress. She feels dirty, she feels used. But above all of that she’s angry with him for ruining the moment she had with Jim.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell your god that you’re a dirty slut.” It’s too much, she had enough of him and his taunting words.

“You pathetic excuse of a personality, you’re worthless. You’re nothing, no one will miss you when you fall from the light.”

“You fucking bitch.” Duncan harshly grabs her wrists. His eyes scream murder, but she doesn’t care. She pulls herself from his grip. “I am not scared of you.”

She spits in his face. A feeling of triumph masters her, when she sees how shocked he looks.

But then, something changes.

A low growl breaks from his throat as all the colour is drenched from his face. Veins become visible when his skin grows paler and paler. The lights in the room are flickering, she is getting cold. The blue of his eyes disappears, leaving his eyes black and soulless. She slowly moves away from him, until her back hits the wall.

He no longer is Duncan, he no longer is like any of the other personalities. He is the demon from all her nightmares. He is the devil, he is all that is evil. She wants to scream, call for her Jim to come back, for any of them to come back. But nothing comes out. Her mouth is opened in a silent scream, when the demon leans closer to her.

He pushes his nose against her throat, smelling there where her she can feel her own heartbeat. His skin is dry and as cold as ice. His cold hand takes hold of her shoulder to push her down. The scream finally comes out. A raspy sound that does not sound like her own voice. But at least something is coming from her. She screams, but no one can really hear her.

His claw like hand is placed upon her mouth, silencing her immediately. His body is pressed against hers keeping her in her place. She struggles against him, but it has no use. Behind her is concrete, in front of her is the demon.

She can’t move, she can’t escape. It’s teeth are scraping against her skin. It’s breathe is hot and stinks of blood. This is the moment she will be killed, she is sure of it. Its mouth is at her ear now. He will rip it off, he will eat her alive.

The tip of its toxic tongue licks her jaw. A shudder goes through her body because of the sensation. Her nipples harden because of the small gesture. She damns herself for responding to it like she does. Hell will swallow her whole if the demon will not.

It nips at her skin like she is something sweet that should be savoured. Her back arches when his mouth is at her throat. Her body moves in response, rubbing against the demons.

Its teeth sink in her skin, she cries out in pain. Blood pours from the wound, wetting her throat, it drips upon the mattress they lie on. It feels strangely good. Maybe it is because she’s close enough to dead to feel heaven.

She falls down on her back when he leans away from her. Whimpers fall from her mouth, her hands automatically go up to touch the wound. She tries to close it, but she doesn’t think it has any use. He will kill her anyway. She starts to cry; she doesn’t want to die like this. Naked and afraid, eaten alive by a demon.

He climbs on her, ready to bite again. His hands are placed on both sides of her head. Her own blood drips from his chin on her face when he leans closer to her face.

He licks the wound he had made and she lets him. This isn’t a terrible way to go. One bite and she will be gone. Her eyes close, tears are still falling from them. Cold hands are wrapped around her throat now. At least she will die loving someone. Jim, Jim, she could not save him.

Her eyes snap open when the beast let’s out a howling sound. What is she doing? When did she become something helpless, when did she something that no longer craves for control? She always finds a way out, so why doesn’t she find one now? So she pushes back, with all her strength. Until the demon falls on his back and she’s on top.

She looks down on him. His face is covered in her blood, the flickering lights in the room are mirrored in his black eyes. The veins she can see beneath his skin remind her of storms and their lighting.

But she sees something else too. He is still Jim, only his face had changed. He may think it’s another personality, she thinks it’s not. It is still him. And she loves her damaged boy. She is a witch and she must be able to tame this demon. She has god on her side, she can cast the evil from this boy. Love will always conquer, good will always win. So she will conquer him, she will defeat evil.

“You’re not like this. Please listen to me, I know there is good in you.” Her hands are cupping his face and he does not fight her. If he was truly evil, he wouldn’t have allowed her to take control.

“Please, let me help you. Let me save you.”

He doesn’t answer her, he grabs her arms instead. He rolls the both of them over. She’s on her back again. She tries to turn them over again, but he pushes his whole body against her. She wiggles, trying to free herself from his weight. But she can’t.

She wants to believe it still is Jim, but with the way he is watching her it’s hard. Drool leaks from the corners from his mouth, eyes too dark to see real emotion in them.

He forces her legs open with his knees. Despite the fact he seems to be only hungry for her flesh now, she can still feel how hard he is. His erection is placed against her pelvis. She only has to move her hips a little for him to be between her legs again.

Tame the beast, conquer the devil. Maybe she feels too much for him to not sin. So she moves her legs, grabs his head and pulls it down. Warm lips meet cold ones, she kisses him until she no longer can taste her own blood in his mouth.

The demon kisses her back, his sharp teeth clashing with hers. She moves her hand between them, taking hold of his cock.

She tries to tell herself that all he needs is love, that he just needs to feel warmth. But she is only half convinced it will really work.

She guides him between her legs, his hips almost move automatically when he is where she wants him.

He is inside her again, but this time it’s not like the first time. He does not wait for her to adjust, does not ask her if she’s okay. His body is heavy, but his weight is the last thing she thinks about. She knows she has to be gentle, to let him know there is still good in this world. But she really can’t bring herself to do so, not when it feels so good to be like this. She pushes his face away when it leans down closer to hers, instead she pushes her face against his shoulder.

He moans, he groans, he growls. With every animalistic thrust she feels herself slipping further and further away from all that is good. This is sinning, her body moving with his, the pain it gives turns her on. This is everything god forbade her to ever participate in. Her body is wet with sweat but also her own blood. It makes it easier to slide over his body. Her cheeks are wet with old tears.

His skin is turning hotter with every thrust, but he is still not her Jim. So she bites him, her teeth piercing through his dry skin. She bites until he bleeds, until she almost chokes on his blood and tears are falling from her eyes again.

She’s not surprised to be the first one to come, because she knows it’s a sign. She has chosen her faith and she cannot return to anything she had left behind now. She screams Jim’s name when her climax hits. Maybe to taunt the beast, but also because she hopes it will bring him back.

He pulls out before he can cum inside of her. Instead he spills over her stomach.

He does not move from her, instead he looks down on her. The demon almost looks amused. It’s teeth are showing when he leans down to touch the damaged skin of her neck. His fingers trace the wound he made, almost as if he wants to make sure it’s real. His fingers go lower and lower, until they’re wrapped around the cross of her necklace. He brings his face closer to hers now. His lips are touching her earlobe.

“You can’t save us.” His voice is raspy, low and it gives her goose bumps. It feels like all her hope is gone, as if someone snatched out the fire inside of her. He pulls the necklace from her. The cross hidden in his fist.

He leaves her naked and alone in his cold bed after. She is trying not to cry when the door closes.

eight She is alone when she wakes up again. Her body is covered in bruises and the sheets are a brownish red from her blood. Her hand goes to her throat, where she can feel the imprint of his teeth. She is aching everywhere. Her back is hurting, she can barely sit up without wanting to fall down again.

She whimpers, not wanting to cry again. He didn’t return after he had left her. She wonders if he even is himself again. Maybe he was right after all. There are other personalities, it isn’t it just a disorder. He is cursed, the demon she saw yesterday wasn’t him. Why would it take the necklace? Jim wouldn’t do that. Jim wouldn’t hurt her like the demon did. She is sure of it.

She feels dirty and used, but most of all she feels something else. She tried so hard to save him. Maybe she needs to save herself first before she can save him.

She gathers her dirty clothing, putting them on again. When she’s fully dressed, she walks very hesitant towards the door. What will be behind it? Will it even open?

The door isn’t locked and behind the door is the empty lobby. She starts to walk around, trying to open other doors. But they’re all locked. Except his bedroom and the door they came through yesterday.

She decides to explore the empty desk that’s standing in the middle of the lobby instead. The papers on the desk tell her that this building belongs to Kineros Robotics. But what’s in a name? She sits down on the chair. The person who normally sits here really has a thing for purple. Because almost every personal item is in that particular colour. She opens one of the drawers and it’s immediately the right one. There is a key that looks like it belongs to the front door.

Bingo, she can escape.

But why is she hesitant? Why does she feel like she would betray him if she leaves? Maybe he feels bad about what happened last night. She must find him first. And she must find her sisters, she needs them now more than ever. But she needs him for that as well. He is the only one that knows where they are.

So she goes downstairs again. But the kitchen is empty. But the door to their hallway is opened, so she goes that way. Maybe he is in her room?

There is something different. Two doors in the hallway are opened, while the one to her room is closed. There is a blood trail from one room to the other. She slows down her steps. Her gut is telling her to run away right now. To leave him and never look back again. But dumb like she is, she ignores the feeling. She stops when she is in front of the first opened door.

The first thing she sees is Coco. Her whole body is covered in blood. It looks like she was attacked by a beast. Or a demon. She ignores the voice in her head, slowly she walks closer to the room. She can hear faint sounds now.

The room looks exactly like the one she was being kept in. Her body stiffens when she sees them. He is leaning over Mallory. His hand is in her chest, he pulls her heart from it. She sees how he brings the organ to his mouth, and he bites.

She backs away from them until her back hits the wall. He is eating her heart like it’s the most delicious thing ever. Mallory’s dark eyes are still opened, staring at Coco’s body next to her. But she is not alive. They both are gone. Her hands grab for something to hold onto, she feels like falling down. Both her hands touch the wall instead. Her heart is beating furiously in her chest. She covers her mouth to let the scream she wants to let out in. She needs to throw up, she can feel the bile coming up.

The moan that comes from the demon makes her snap out of her panic. She moves away from them as quietly as she can. Making her way to the kitchen. The only thing she is thinking about is how to get away from here as fast as she can.

The desk in the lobby is still empty. But she doesn’t waste time. She’s running towards the large door, the key she stole earlier in her left hand.

The door opens easily and when she is outside, she lets out a breath. It seems to be the end of the day but the sun is still up. She runs from the building, not looking back until she is sure she’s far away from it. When she turns around, she can still read the letters on top of the building. Kineros.

All she is thinking about, is Cordelia. Her sisters are killed, she needs her supreme now more than ever.

She asks the first person she sees on the street for their phone. The woman gives her a weird look. Probably because she looks terrible. With shaking fingers, she types in Cordelia’s number. And when she takes the call and hears how the supreme says her own name, the witch finally feels safe again. It’s going to be alright; she’s going to be fine.

nine Back in Kineros the blonde demon smiles to himself, his face still covered in blood. He is Jim, he is Xavier, he is Duncan and he’s even Ms. Mead. But most importantly, he’s Michael.

They all are real, really made up by him. He knew he had to do something drastic to lure Cordelia away from the sacred grounds of their New Orleans academy. She would never come to him without a good reason. Cordelia had killed his adoptive mother and he will make sure Cordelia will meet her end.

Soon there will be no witches left to mess with his devilish plans. He plays with the cross he stole from her. No witches, except her. He will keep this one. Something to bring with him to his new world. Michael will not forget the way she so easily had given him all of her love. He is not without cravings after all.

But first, destruction. He will kill them all as gruesome as he had killed the other two witches. They will never know what is coming their way…

..............................

pfew, thank you for reading!

if you speak french, or maybe listen to stromae, the title of the fic already gave away the ending. tous les memes means ‘all the same’.

shout out to chef bertie, the chef who taught xavier how to make the best sandwiches.

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tags: @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @ccodyferns @thechildofmay @queencocoakimmie @queenie435 @isoldedax @bethskarsgard @littledemondani @theghostoflangdon @boofy1998 @bademliimagnum @gold-dragon-slayer @venusxxlangdon @nana15774 @isoldedax @napping-is-my-favorite @anacerta @vampirefairyestelle @wroteclassicaly @icylangdon @peachesandfern @hecohansen31 @melodylangdon @leatherduncan @michaelsapostle @michael-langdon-appreciation @hadesruinseverything @themiswrites @blakewaterxx @rocketgirl2410

#fanfiction #michael langdon x reader #duncan shepherd x reader #jim mason x reader #xavier plympton x reader #ms mead #michael langdon #xavier plympton #duncan shepherd #jim mason #mallory #coco st. pierre vanderbilt

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ahs-confessions · 5 years

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This very accurate love calculator agrees!

#ahs confessions #american horror story #ahs #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #michael x coco

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crimsonkook · 6 years

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Michael in his room hearing all the bodies dropping in the outpost

#michael langdon #cody fern #ahs mallory #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #mr gallant #ahs #ahs season 8 #ahs apocalypse #ahs8 #american horror story #billie lourd #evan peters #leslie grossman #michael langdon x reader

742 notes · View notes

randomahsheadcanons · 6 years

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Random Mr. Gallant Headcanons

• These are just some random headcanons (ha, I see what you did there!) about everyone’s favorite masochistic gay hairstylist.

• First of all: “First Name Unknown” Gallant is an attention seeking whore and he’s proud of it.

• Michael can be busy doing some important antichrist business, Gallant will ALWAYS try to get his attention.

• He kinda just sits on his lap and wraps his arms around his neck.

• He’s like a cat sometimes.

• He’ll try to get Michael to stop working and give him some love, but he’ll act like he doesn’t give a shit if he refuses to.

• Michael: For the love of Satan, I already told you I can’t cuddle right now! I’m busy

• Gallant, crying his eyes out: Yeah, WHATEVER. It’s not like I actually wanted to cuddle with you anyway!

• But He Did Wanted It.

• Gallant is not a morning person at all.

• Unfortunately for him, everyone else in his life is a morning person.

• “Good morning, Gal-”

• “Shut the fuck up, Coco! I need at least three cups of coffee before I can interact with you”

• “Geez, who hurt you?”

• He might like to be humiliated during sex, but he needs so much praise and validation in real life.

• He can’t properly function without it.

• His hair was blonde and it used to be beautiful, but he Ruined It.

• For some reason, he refuses to tell people his first name.

• Or his middle name.

• Actually, he only told people his last name because they needed to call him SOMETHING.

• Anything other than “that bitch”.

• His nana never told him anything positive.

• Not a “congratulations” not a “you did a good job”, NOTHING.

• She just says shit like “at least you have a job” or “finally you’re doing something with your life”.

• He fucking hates Evie so much.

• However, she is very rich and he wants to get his hands on that sweet cash.

• That’s the only reason he tolerates her emotional abuse.

• Everyone has ambitions.

• Evie knows Gallant has a boyfriend, but she keeps introducing him to boring gay men.

• “No, thanks. I already got myself a daddy- a BOYFRIEND”

• So yeah, he likes being submissive in bed, but have you ever TRIED to get this bitch to do something in real life?

• He refuses to.

• He acts like a toddler whenever someone asks him to do something, no matter how easy it might be.

• “Could you please get me a glass of water?”

• “You can’t make me”

• “I’m just asking for water”

• “Go get it yourself”

• “You’re so childish!”

• “No, YOU”

• “Are you seriously just gonna sit there and-”

• *gets up* “I’m not sitting, I’m STANDING”

• He’s doesn’t really know how to cook.

• But he’s used to eating some fancy shit like shrimp, lobster or BISQUE.

• Sometimes his dinner is just a bottle of wine.

• Or the heart and blood of a rich pedophilic priest.

• Is pedophilic even a word? I don’t think so.

• His personality is something between a depressive, gay old man and a bratty, easily distracted child.

• He’s obsessed with jewelry.

• Like, he doesn’t even care if it’s expensive, he just wants to know if it’s shiny.

• On family gatherings, he’s that one tired gay who casually sips his mimosa and waits for the whole thing to blow up.

• “Some men just want to watch the world burn”

• He hates everyone in his family, so he won’t hesitate on calling them out on their bullshit.

• “I heard you have a… boyfriend, I thought you were done with that phase”

• “I heard you got divorced again. Gee, aunt Esther, I thought you were done with THAT phase”

• His entire family is just a bunch of judgemental old white people.

• And he’s a huge disappointment to them.

• That’s part of the reason why Gallant is so insecure, but he tries to act like he’s not.

• He also hates his birthday for some reason.

• People bring him gifts and he just pretends it’s not his birthday.

• Coco always gets him something, even though he begs her not to give him anything.

• “Hey, Gal. Happy birthday!”

• “So you’re just gonna bring me a birthday gift to my birthday, to my birthday party, on my birthday, with a birthday gift?”

• “…happy birthday?”

• “BITCH-”

• He’s actually kind of perfectionist when it comes to his work.

• Of course he doesn’t want to be the person who ruined someone’s hair.

• And he’s not just extremely perfectionist with his own work, he criticizes other people’s work all the time.

• Especially when they work for him, they’re not allowed to fuck anything up.

• He’s like Gordon Ramsay, but instead of food, he’s an expert in hair.

• “Holy shit, Mason! I’d rather SELL MY ASS TO SATAN than put you in charge of ANYTHING ever in your pathetic, miserable life!”

• “Stacy, you fucking whore, you better get the FUCK out of my salon right now if you don’t want me to kick your sorry ass all the way to New Jersey!”

• “Oh, please, Tessa… you dumb slut. You wouldn’t know what a fishtail braid is even if I STRANGLED YOU WITH ONE”

• He definitely loves musicals.

• Especially High School Musical because he’s That Bitch.

• He forces Michael to watch the movies with him and he also managed to convince him to watch Teen Beach Movie.

• Gallant and Coco perform Bop To The Top in the living room SO MANY TIMES!

• And of course they forced Mallory and Michael to watch.

• “What the actual FUCK are they doing?”

• “Just keep smiling and clapping, it’ll be over soon”

• In conclusion, Gallant is a bitch, but we love him anyway.

#mr gallant #michael x gallant #galangdon #american horror story #ahs #ahs headcanons #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #ahs mallory #mallory #random headcanons

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vintagegoddess12 · 6 years

Text

Radioactive Salvation Ch.4

[Cordelia Goode x Reader]

Chapter: 1, 2, 3

A/N: Sorry if this took too long. Also, this is one of the lengthy chapters to come up in this fic. Hope you like it. Tell me what you think ok? Love lots.

Tagging: @cordeliasflowergirl @athenamgh @stevenuniversetanzanite @germansarechill @chonisbestmistake @alurous

Cordelia’s P.O.V

I look at your familiar face and thought to myself: I have missed you so bad. I want to reach across the table and hold your hand, feel your warmth, one that I've missed so much. I miss your hands intertwined with mine. I just want to be close to you and remember how it feels to be complete once again. But I can't. You're sitting across from me at the dinner table, paying no attention to my thoughts. You used to know what I'm feeling and thinking, especially if they are so loud. Now, I'm just one of your guests that you pay no mind to. Your attention is divided between Michael and Myrtle giving you compliments for the meal. The world may have ended but you still found a way to bring food to the table and be a great hostess, one thing Myrtle and Bubbles - your mentors - thought you in the academy. "This is really magnificent, darling," exclaimed Myrtle, "how did you find this fresh seafood?" You were about to answer when Mallory, who helped you prepare in the kitchen, excitedly answered, "she used this magic that took apart the components of the nutrition cube we eat then brought them back to their original state" "That's my witch," Michael said after letting out a chuckle. His hand landed on your arms and you smiled at him upon contact. I felt Madison's stare at me so I decided to keep my reactions to myself. If I have to be honest, the gesture sent a pang of pain in my chest. The world is about to end and all I have are regrets when I used to have you. I failed you as a partner and as your Supreme to keep you safe from the dangers of the world. I feel guilty feeling this way. I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't even know the Antichrist finished eating. "Excuse me, ladies," Michael catching the attention of everyone in the table, "I'll leave you alone so you can catch up." He glanced at everyone then headed for his office but not before lightly touching your shoulder. I can sense that everyone is wary of his actions. "For someone who caused the end of the world, he looks too darn jolly," Madison commented not too long after he walked away, breaking the silence. Suddenly, all the attention in the room went to the woman seating in front of me. You were not bothered by all the eyes focused on you and kept on eating. "So are you like his girlfriend or something?" Madison asked, voicing out the thought every witch in the table has. Her choice of word made me wince inside. You looked up and met her gaze. "Nope," you answered and caused Madi's brow to raise. "I'm just here to pay a kind act that he did for me." "Was there anything kind that came out of the person?" Madison retaliated, her voice laced with poison. You stopped eating and focused on her, "Well, you're here, aren't you?" Your reminder of her resurgence caused the witch's jaw to drop and made her silent for a while. "I believe what she's trying to say, dear, is why are you here when you left the coven?" Myrtle tried to reach for your hand on the table but removed it and place it in your lap. "I didn't leave the coven. I simply stayed away." You answered with a weak smile across your face. "We looked for you," I blurted out loud, causing everyone to look at me. You turned your face to me, pain passing in your eyes. I somehow regret saying it. "Really?" You replied with a trace of mockery. "Did you find me?" That answer stung and I had no words to make up a reply. I wanted to say that I tried really hard to look for you. I even asked Papa Legba if you were in hell. After a few hits of cocaine, he said you weren't there. I exhausted my Power of Sight and the connection we have but I still failed. I couldn't even feel your presence, even now. I'm starting to think it's because of Langdon's magic. "I didn't," was all that I could simply say. I saw disappointment pass in your face before Coco spoke. "But I did." You instantly looked at the witch, as if waiting for the words that will come out of her mouth. Your eyes became glassy, tears forming in it. "It's still blurry to me but I remember seeing you at the academy," she kept trying to remember. I have to admit she got me hanging to her every word. "You were standing over a bed," I looked at you and your eyes were going wide. "Oh and you look like shit," Coco continued, "you were with --" You curled your fist and uttered a spell to bind her lips together, stopping the words to come out of her mouth. "If you do remember," you blinked back the tears in your eyes, "then you know what's at stake." "What is at stake?" Myrtle asked but you remained focused at Coco. "It's not like there are any more witches that will die if you let this nutrition label to speak," Madison matter-of-factly said. You looked at her, shocked. "They're all dead, thanks to this voodoo bitch." She tilted her head to Dinah, who is seated the other end of the table. "Hey, it's kill or be killed," Dinah replied, looking at you. "Oh don't worry, backstabbing bitch, you will be killed," Madison threatened. You remained silent during the exchange. Hearing your sisters die seemed like news to you. I wonder if Michael had told you what he did. If he had, you would definitely run away from him. You don't tolerate violence, never did. You were about to speak but then you were interrupted by Ms. Mead or her robot counterpart. She whispered something to you that caught your attention. You released your hold on Coco before standing up. "I'm afraid the Q and A portion of the evening are finished, ladies." You looked at each one of us. Your stare lingered a moment at me but maybe I was just dreaming. "I have some matters to attend to." You then started to walk away. I remained still to my seat, unsure whether I should follow you or watch over my girls. I want to say a lot of things to you because I'm not sure I'll walk out of this place alive. Myrtle noticed my internal crisis. She nods her head, letting me go after you. It was the push I needed to stand up and follow you. I just want to see you smile for me, one last time. --- "I have found the answer to your question, darling," Michael's voice echoed through the halls when he greeted you. "Questions," you corrected him. "They multiplied." I ran after you and it was not my intention to eavesdrop in your conversation. However, something inside me tells me to do so. I hid to the closest pillar and used a cloaking spell to hinder anyone from seeing me. "Oh my, those witches are real trouble, aren't they?" He commented to himself. "Careful," you reminded him. "I'm still one of them." "I assure you, not for long." His smile sent shivers down my spine. What does he mean by not for long? He inched closer to you before speaking. "I am not responsible for the tragic death of Ms. Vanderbilt." "So I was informed," you coldly replied before glancing to Ms. Mead. "Yes. There was an intrusion earlier. A man," Ms. Mead left the room while he was speaking, "who calls himself Brock." She returned with a scruffy looking man in chains and dragged him a few feet closer to me. You approached the man while Michael continued to speak. "He killed one of our people to gain access. Disguised himself as a guest to the gathering. Got Ms. Vanderbilt alone in her room then killed her." You stood in from of him and, unknown to you, me. Brock, on his knees, kept trying to break free from the chains that bound him but I'm guessing Ms. Mead is making it tighter for him every time. You stared him down before softly asking, "Why?" He looked back at you, still fighting against his restraints, and replied, "because she left me in Santa Monica. She broke up our relationship for selfish reasons. She allowed me to die with the rest of the world." He was catching his breath. "Because I loathe her and revenge is a dish best served cold." You closed your eyes and your fist. You only do that when you're trying to control your temper. Something about what he said sparked something in you. "Such a shame, isn't it?" Michael teased from behind you. "Your excuse for killing is all for selfish reasons too." He started walking towards you. "Sadly, all your efforts are wasted." "No, it wasn't. I killed her dead." Brock spat back. "No witch stays dead for too long, moron." Ms. Mead stated. You remain unmoved in your position. Michael is now directly behind you, caressing your hair, making you calm down. Brock processed the idea of her ex-girlfriend being a witch. "More reason for me to kill her," he hissed and tried, even more, to get out of his restraints. You shot your eyes open with his response. Your body tensed and you clenched your fists even more if that is possible. Your eyes focused only on him. "Let me handle this, darling," Michael whispered to you. "I will make sure he gets the punishment he deserves." He reached for your closed fist. "Does that satisfy you?" Michael seems different around you. His commanding presence still remains but there is more to what he is showing. More concerned. More human. "No, it won't." You shot him a look that made him step back. "I will handle this." Michael signaled Ms. Mead to step back also. Whatever you're about to do made Michael smirk. He looks proud. You raised your hand and called the fire from one of the candles. The flame rested in your palm. You stared at Brock while the light in your hands illuminates your face. There is something sinister with your expression. "You think that revenge is a dish best served cold," you knelt in front of him and looked at him eye to eye, "well, witches like it hot." With that, you closed your fist and seconds later, he was screaming and writhing on the floor. Smoke diffuses from the metal chains you're burning. A small sinister smile forms in your face. I looked for the expressions of Michael and his confidante. There they are, standing like two proud parents. I can't believe this is happening. You can't even hurt a fly. Never would you take pleasure from inflicting pain. The torture stopped as you open your fist. You walked away from him, anger blazing in your eyes. Brock lay at the floor, breathing heavily and slinging curses at you. You stopped in the middle of the room before speaking. "On the count of three, you run as fast you can," you said coldly, "and pray to whatever god you believe in to save you." With a flick of your wrist, the shackles that bind him broke. "One..." The burn marks of his torture are now evidently black against his skin. "Two..." He tries to stand, ignoring the pain of his wounds. "Three!" You bellowed. He was practically limping when he tried to run. "Why did you do that? You could have killed him right there and then." Ms. Mead asked. "Michael knows why." You replied. She looked at the figure near the stairs. His stance proves that he is indeed having fun with what you're doing, his gaze locked on you. A smirk formed in his lips before answering, "To give him hope." You raised your hands once again, this time a man instead of a flame touched your palm. Brock is limp against your grasp in his neck. "You bitch!" Brock uttered under his breath. "You really had the hate coming! Freaks!" How dare he judge our kind? Behind the pillar where I hide, I was ready to impale him using my magic but you threw him against the wall near me. His body fell hard on the floor. Before he can recover, you threw him again. "You're a murderer and you dare judge?" Your voice filled with anger. You threw him again with more force. I think I hear a bone or two broke. "Do you remember what happened to men like him?" Michael asked, probably triggering a memory in you. What he said further ignited the flame of anger inside you. "Oh, I do" You pinned Brock against a wall with your mind. I can sense that you intend to end him right there. You were never a killer, even to those who deserve it and I'm not going to let you start being one now. How will I stop you? I need to get to you. I focused my mind on everyone's consciousness in the room. I can feel three heads. I see Brock's first. It's all hazy and no straight thoughts. In the brink of death, his mind is on survival mode. Then there were two. Your's and the Antichrist's. I see darkness, in both of them. If I choose the latter, he will realize that I am here and I don't know what he will do. But how do I set you apart? I had an idea. I sent a cool whisp of air in your way, enough to trigger a response. True enough, you flinched. It caused small shock in your consciousness. I took that as an opportunity to enter your mind. It felt so wrong to be doing this. You despise the idea of mind reading, that's why Bubbles rarely use her powers around you. You would always say that no one should be privy of their most intimate thoughts other than one's self. While trying to communicate with you, the energy in the room shifted. The flames flickered. The temperature in the hall got hotter. I can feel sweat trickling down my face. The forces seem to be gathering in the middle of the room, in you. Now, what is happening? "The descent is upon us," the Antichrist seemingly answered my question. What does it have to do you?. He called out your name and said, "you know what to do." Suddenly, your thoughts focused on gripping Brock's neck tighter. I used my inner voice to talk to you. "[Y/n], don't do this." You were surprised by the intrusion in your thoughts. I was shocked however when you breathed heavier than usual. That seemed to anger you more and focus on your victim. "If you kill him, you'll be just like him," I tried to reason out in your head. You gave one last push on your hold on him before you screamed in agony. I was terrified for you that I lost concentration in your consciousness. Brock fell on the floor, breathless. So did you, as you continue screaming, in what I can only guess as pain. I tried to enter your mind again but it is completely sealed off. My instincts say that I should run to you but Michael did it first. "[Y/n], what are you feeling?" He asked as he helps you stand. I remained behind the pillar, assessing the situation. I believe you wouldn't reveal my presence to him. "He doesn't deserve to die," you exclaimed, looking at the other slumped figure on the floor. "He doesn't deserve to live either," Michael replied to your sentiment. The two of you exchanged looks as if understanding what the other meant. The way we used to. You returned your gaze to the figure, who's now trying to stand up on his own. What are you going to do? You shook free from the Antichrist's hold on you. Once again, the energy in the room shifted - going to you. You raised your hand, calling forth the wind. "Haec pro maledicto sunt," you started, a whisp of air rests in your palm. "Sit corpore separata." You pointed the ball of air as you walk to Brock, his eyes now pleading of mercy. "Sit corpus attingunt." The whisps of air are now changing color to black. His body began shaking. You stepped closer. "Mitte animam ad infernum." You stopped in front of him, beside me. You looked at your right side, knowing, feeling, that I am there. Your facial expression similar to a hurt child. Innocent yet resembles the pain of ten lifetimes. You sent the ball of black air to Brock's chest as you finish your curse. "Descensum!" Just like that, his body stopped shaking and breathing. Silence covered the hall and he remained limp on the floor. He remained dead. The silence was broken by Ms. Mead, asking what will she do now. As if this situation usually occurs. The Antichrist then answered, "hide the body but don't burn it. He can still wake up if [y/n] wants to." She proceeded as she was told. You didn't kill him. You just sent him to eternal damnation until you don't want to anymore. The next thing that happened surprised me just as much as Michael. You turned on your heal and slapped him. The echo still ringing in my ear. "How could you lie to me?" You shouted, barely a question. How could you not tell me that they're gone!" "Who? The witches," He seemed to have an idea on your sudden outburst. "Yes, the witches!" "I had to," he replied calmly. If that got on my nerve, it surely did the same thing to you. "Had to? When was killing ever a necessity!?" "It is the acceptable action so you can perform your role," he tried to reason with you. You shook your head and breathed out a heavy sigh. You faced the direction of the decontamination area and started walking. "Where are you going?" "Outside," you looked back at him. "Pray to your father that nothing bad happens to me out there or everything you've ever done will go to waste." Anger is once again evident in your voice. "Don't. You. Dare. Follow. Me." and you continued walking out.

---

Translation of the curse in Latin (thanks google translate):

Let this be a curse.

Let the body and soul separate.

Let the body be untouched.

Send the soul to hell!

#radioactive salvation #cordelia goode #cordelia goode x reader #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #sarah paulson imagine #sarah paulson x reader #ms. mead #madison montgomery #myrtle snow #mallory #coco st. pierre vanderbilt

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consultingsnowqueen · 5 years

Text

Wasteland, Baby! Part 8: The Start of All Things that are Left to Do

Notes: This is the end of Maureen and Michael’s journey. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you all so much for the positive feedback as well!

Tags: @tribble-from-wonderland @ladynuwanda

Maureen watched as Marie made the first move that triggered the battle. She immediately slit Dinah’s throat as a tribute for Papa Legba, who appeared moments later.

“I want his soul, Laveau!”

“No!” Maureen cried. “His soul is Heaven’s!”

Madison looked between Papa and Maureen. “What’s so great about his soul anyways?”

“It’s powerful. He’d make a great ally. Our problem is that it’s currently the property of Satan. I’m guessing you all want his soul, too?” Angelo offered.

“Well, it’d be ideal,” Myrtle muttered.

The initial shock was over and the demons rushed forward to surrounded the witches. Angelo and Maureen immediately began slaying the demons as Michael walked forward to talk to Cordelia.

“You’re too late, Miss Supreme. My father has—”

He was cut off by a stream of bullets piercing through him. Maureen screamed as his eyes rolled back and he collapsed.

“We don’t have much time before he wakes back up!” Madison yelled. “Coco, take Mallory to the bath upstairs!”

Coco and Mallory immediately began running upstairs.

“I’ll go with you!” Maureen offered, taking down demons that appeared in their way.

“Maureen?” Mallory asked, when they were in the bathroom, away from any danger.

“Yes?” Maureen asked, poised to shoot an arrow should someone enter.

“Thank you. I know this must be hard for you considering how you feel about Michael.”

Maureen smiled at this and shrugged. “This is my job.”

Angelo, Myrtle, and Cordelia ran upstairs to follow the others and hold off Langdon.

“What’s the plan?” Angelo asked, turning to the women.

“Mallory will do Tempus Infinitum and hopefully that should work,” Myrtle explained.

“Hopefully?” Angelo asked, looking quite exasperated. “Gabriel said you had a solid plan!”

“That’s as solid as you’re getting. Have some faith,” Cordelia snapped.

“I’m one of God’s best angels. I run on faith, Ma’am.”

The screams of Marie and Coco hit them suddenly and they cringed. Angelo shook his head, feeling quite hopeless.

“I hope you’re all ready,” he muttered.

Maureen suddenly appeared beside him. “Angelo, Mallory is weak. I don’t know if she’ll be able to go through with this.”

Myrtle cursed as Cordelia sighed. They looked at each other and Cordelia smiled as she placed a hand on Myrtle’s shoulder. Myrtle’s face flashed with realization.

“Delia, you can’t be serious.”

“I have to. It’s up to Mallory now. She’s the next Supreme.”

Angelo swallowed thickly but immediately chuckled. “At least you know your soul is saved.”

Maureen looked at him and snapped her fingers in a moment of realization. “Michael said something a bit ago when we were alone and what you did to Andre reminded me of it. I think I can stop him.”

Michael appeared before them looking quite tired… and bloody. Angelo cringed at his torn and bloodied clothing.

“I can’t believe you got with that,” he whispered.

“Wait!” Michael cried out, holding out his arm as Cordelia, Myrtle, Angelo, and Maureen all got ready to attack. Michael faltered, sighing, revealing how exhausted he was. “Please… just wait.”

They relaxed as Michael sniffled and shrugged. “I give up, Maureen. You’re right. I don’t want this anymore. My demons are below reveling in their victory as I promised to kill the Supreme. The thing is… I don’t want to anymore.”

Cordelia and Myrtle looked at each other, furrowing their brows in confusion. Suddenly, Madison, Marie, and Coco ran towards them from behind Michael. Cordelia gasped and Michael smiled sadly.

“I can’t hurt anyone else. I want this all over with.”

Michael walked towards Maureen and cupped her face.

“Maureen, my love. This apocalypse, this destruction, this world was never my kingdom, even when my father promised me that it was. This whole world was just a wasteland to me before I met you. If I lose you, my world will end. I love you, my angel.”

Maureen leaned up and kissed him, feeling tears stream down her face when she pulled away.

“Cordelia, can you fix this?” Maureen asked, looking back.

Cordelia smiled sadly as she hugged her girls.

“I think I can fix all of this. However, I don’t know about Michael. No matter what we do, his soul belongs to his father. He is the Anti-Christ.”

Angelo frowned at this, turning away so he wouldn’t have to watch Maureen cry or reveal that he was crying with her. Michael nodded, standing tall.

“Do what you have to do. I don’t fear my father anymore. The short time I had with Maureen was worth everything, and I would do anything to keep her safe. Go on, drive your sword through me, Angelo.”

Angelo choked and shook his head with a sad smile. “I’m not gonna to do that to you. It isn’t my place.”

Maureen looked to Angelo for any sign of support, but he just shrugged and smiled at her. “Maureen, you’re the worthiest angel of us all. Think.”

Maureen nodded, looking at the other women for support. They followed Angelo’s lead, nodding.

“Michael, you said something before… that your soul was mine. Is that true?”

Michael nodded, looking a bit caught off guard. It was inappropriate to be so romantic in such a dire time, he supposed. Plus, it was a passing comment. True, but passing.

“Yes, of course it is. Everything I have, every part of me is yours.”

“Then I guess I can be selfish… and claim what is mine,” Maureen said, smiling with venom and laughing now. Angelo nodded at her, proudly smiling as he realized that his student no longer needed him.

“Now Cordelia!” Maureen yelled and the other gasped as Cordelia plunged a dagger into her stomach. She smiled as Michael’s eyes widened and nodded to him.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered.

Maureen backed up and aimed her arrow at Michael’s heart. He looked at her, his face showing his scared, innocent side. She almost turned back, but no.

“I claim this soul…”

There was only one chance.

“… For myself!”

The beam of light shot forward at Michael. At the same time Mallory cried out, “Tempus Infinitum!”

The world went black for a few moments before Mallory woke up in a bed. This wasn’t what she wanted. Did she fail? Was she at the Outpost? No… this was her room at Miss Robichaux’s. She did recognize it and Coco was sitting on her own bed.

“Mallory, hurry up! Zoe is going to teach us about tarot cards today.”

Mallory got out of bed and sighed in relief. Perhaps she did do something right if Zoe and Coco were still alive. Seeing the other witches alive was shocking, but in a good way. They greeted her happily, waving at her like she thought was usual… before everything else happened. Coco and Mallory reached the dining hall where ornate cards were spread over the table.

“There you are, girls! Feel free to pick up the cards and look at them,” Queenie offered.

Misty Day was examining one and smiled. “This one is my favorite. It’s The Magician. He represents new beginnings.”

Misty handed the card to Mallory so she could examine it, but Mallory almost dropped it when she saw the illustration. It looked a little too eerie and reminded her of a certain someone from her past. It was the Archangel Angelo himself. The likeness of the card was too spot on to be anyone other than him.

“I prefer this one,” Zoe said, handing another card to Mallory. “This one is The Lovers.”

Mallory looked at Zoe for a moment, almost afraid to look at the card. It was just as she expected. Two angels had their wings wrapped around each other as they kissed. One was extremely familiar to her… in fact, in another life they did everything together. The other shocked her but it also confirmed that she’d done everything right. Michael and Maureen were together in Heaven and now Michael was an angel.

“There was good in him, I guess,” she whispered.

“What was that?”

Mallory turned to see Cordelia standing behind her, smiling down at her student.

“Oh nothing. It’s just my guardian angel… she must be looking out for me.”

#michael langdon #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x oc #langdon #cody fern #ahs #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story coven #ahs fanfic #american horror story fanfic #cordelia goode #ahs coven #myrtle snow #madison montgomery #mallory ahs #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #marie laveau

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lonelylavenderluke · 6 years

Text

Curious thoughts // Chapter four

American Horror Story: Apocalypse

Micheal Langdon x (Cordelia’s daughter) Reader

Rating:emotional pain, (I think it’s angsty I’ll let you guys decide)

Tag list//: @frozenhuntress67, @the-captain-kidd

+++===+++===+++===+++

“Blasted witch” Ariel hissed from where he stood just below me, I was on the ceiling holding in my laughter after spending the last half hour messing with the Chancellor.

“When I find that god forsaken girl, she will be gone for good..” he growled as Baldwin laughed, “she’s a child leave her be, how would you feel if Cordelia requested for you to stay at her school for girls... she’s merely entertaining herself”. Scoffing at the Ariel continued to check for anything else I had tampered with, just then the door opened to reveal Michael, “Alpha” both men got up bowing their heads in respect. “What seems to be the issue, Chancellor?” He questioned looking at Ariel who was struggling to keep calm.

“My love what have you been doing?”

“Nothing much, I was bored... you take to long”

I smirked seeing Michael shake his head at my response, “Michael, I request that...that girl... that witch...whom you asked to stay behind to be the voice of the witches, she has to leave she has no place amongst warlocks!” Ariel demanded as his voice raised, a bolt of pain shot through my head making me whimper as I bit into my arm to silence any sounds I made. “And why should I, what has Elisha done to deserve such ill thoughts towards her?” Michael exclaimed staring down the man that stood in front of him. My head was rushing, I’d been using my new abilities to long, since I’d always been taught prolonged exposure of any new ability can cause extreme repercussions for young witches.

“Michael.... my head’s hurting”

I called out in a pained voice, exerting as much energy as I had left to staying on the ceiling against gravities will. Michael moves subtly to just below where I was as if anticipating my fall, “she shows me no respect to which I should be owed, I do hold a higher title than she does after all” Ariel states his argument. “How so? After all she is the daughter of...” Michael began to say before being cut off by Ariel, “bastard daughter, Cordelia never married the girls father or did the little witch not inform you of that” he smirked as if thinking he was winning the argument.

“Elisha what do you have to say to all this?” Michael spoke aloud moving his arms to catch me as I let go with my powers and fell straight into them. “Head rush” I moaned shaking my head slightly to get to grips with t my bearings once more. “Well?” Michael requested as he helped me to stand, looking at the man in front of us I laughed mockingly, “what do you expect I’m bored there’s not much to do in this hole in the ground after all you forbid me to interact with anyone but yourselves and Michael” I waved them off turning to leave the room. “How dare you turn your back on your Supreme!” Ariel exploded, his powers attempting to throw me off my feet, but I barely moved just a gust of wind that blew my hair, “I’d watch your tone Ariel.... or have you forgotten who I am” I warned looking over my shoulder at three warlocks in the room, waving slightly I transmutated out of the room.

“She has got to go” Ariel snarled pointing a finger at Michael who simply chuckled, “and what good will that do?” Smirking he too followed after.

“Relax Ariel, if having her around makes him more compliant to what we ask then so be it besides she reminds me of a younger version of ourselves don’t you?” Baldwin quirked an eyebrow before taking a sip of whiskey from the glass in his hand.

“Who am I supposed to be?” I mumbled wandering out of my room for the first time in hours, my stomach aching the longer I went without eating.

I felt something crash into me, throwing us both off balance and onto the floor. Looking up I took note that it was Mallory who was the one to crash into me, she had tears running down her cheeks as she looked into my eyes in fear. “Mallory” I breathed out sighing before clinging onto her, “what happened are you okay? What happened?” I exclaimed trying to sooth her as she did me when ever I had my nightmares, “Langdon.... Langdon.. he... he..” She blubbered our in between spurts of sobs. “Oh Mallory...” I murmured holding her close to me in comfort.

After losing track of how long we were there I was finally able to her up, I gradually guided Mallory to her room. “Clean yourself up Mal, is there anything you want me to do?” I asked watching her cautiously as she perched on her small bed, “did anything weird happen for you?” She questioned quietly her voice nearly loud enough for me to hear. “He thinks I’m someone else....I don’t know who but even I’m starting to doubt myself” I murmured shaking my head softly before bidding her a goodbye before returning to what ever it was I had previously been set on doing.

“Whatever they’re doing to you.. it’s over... you don’t have to lie anymore to anybody especially me, I heard you Elisha I heard you please I’m on my knees begging....you have to remember”

Langdons words rattled in my brain as I rested in the library the sense of reassurance oozing from the old covered books that sat on the shelves.

“Have you ever been to New Orleans?”

NEW ORLEANS

The words screamed familiarity but I couldn’t find any relations within my memories of when I was a child. “Why New Orleans?” I murmured rubbing my temple in frustration. “You look lost little one?” Dinah annouced as she walked into the room her expression held one of concern, “I’m conflicted...” I stated as a look of realisation flickered across her features, “how so?” She investigated watching me closely an aura of familiar power washed over me as if I’d been near someone like her before, the same feeling I had when ever I was near Mallory or Coco. “There’s something inside me that’s telling me I know this place, these walls, the books on these shelves even the very bed I’ve been sleeping in for the past 18 months, the same can be said for you and Langdon it’s like I’ve met you both before but I have no memory of either of you... I didn’t really think of it much until earlier when Mallory crashed into me after her interview... but there’s this feeling inside of me that’s making me think that I really don’t feel like Adelaide Lestrange it’s really who I am..” I rambled on a sense of relief flurrying through me as I told all my worries to the older woman in front of me.

“Have you brought this up with anyone else?” She enquired watching me curiously as if what I had told her was the most intriguing thing she’d ever heard. “No” I mumbled looking into the fire place as voices and low mumbled rattled in my ear lobes as if muttering warnings of evil within reach of harming me.

“Does the name Elisha mean anything to you?” I asked after a few moments of silence between us before I got any type of reply.

“The name Elisha has several meanings it just depending on what language it is translated from, in Latin it means ‘the salvation of god’ whereas in Hebrew it can translate to ‘god is salvation’, either way it is referenced in the christian bible” Dinah explained to me as I thought over the meaning. “You seem to know a lot about it” I stated looking over at her looking for anything that gave away something about her, she chuckled shaking her head as she gave me a look with saddened eyes. “I use to know a girl called Elisha long before the war, she was sweet and playful by nature, when I last saw her she was expecting a baby but something happened and she was in a lot of pain” she hesitated looking right into my eyes as if searching for any recognition to the words she was saying. “What happened?” I asked the feeling of emptiness filled at the bottom of my stomach as I heard her finish her story.

“Her baby never made it to the half way point, there was so much blood... I was scared she’d die when I saw just how bad it all was...but then I remembered something that I was once told, Elisha was more than just a normal girl she was extraordinary and so she just about pulled through but she had suffered so much that she wailed for her lover and cried for the loss of their child...oh her mother wished for her to not suffer anymore.. I tried to help as best as I could but after that I never heard from Elisha agian” she finished with tears splintering in her eyes.

The pain inside me ran chaotically within me, I begged myself not to react but it seemed as if my insides were being ripped out as I whimpered quietly clutching my stomach. “That must of been horrific” I mumbled coughing slightly in reaction to the events that where unfolding inside my body. “Yes it was..” she seemed lost in thought as suddenly everyone began entering the library. “Wow you guys must of run here” Gallant laughed as he entered taking a seat beside me along with Coco.

“What’s going on?” I questioned as everyone took up places awaiting whatever it was that had made them arrive here. “Venable called an emergency meeting” was all Coco said before Venable appeared awaiting to a address us all.

“These past several months have been difficult for all of us.And perhaps, in my efforts to keep us safe, punitive measures have been taken too far.I believe now what we need is a moment of celebration, camaraderie.Which is why this weekend, as a gesture of goodwill, we will have a Halloween soiree” she explained looking round at us all as we became excited at the news of something different.

“in the style of a Victorian masquerade ball.” She finished locking eyes with me an evil glimmer shined in her eyes before glancing back round the room.

“It's Halloween this weekend?” Gallant exclaimed before clearing his throat, “If only my nana were here to enjoy it with me.”

“We've all lost track of time a bit.And this festive occasion is the perfect opportunity to remedy this.And I encourage you all to use your imaginations, to create what I am sure will be exquisite costumes.” Venable states a slight edge to the tone of her voice before growing more serious.

“Attendance is mandatory.”

+++===+++===+++===+++===+++===+++

Everyone was busy with their costumes, excitement bubbling within their blood. I wanted to be excited, yet the daunting feel of the fact that if Venable was in fact telling the truth then I’d be turning 23.

“Knock, knock” I heard Emily’s voice from my door where she stood with it open, “greetings fellow outpost friend” she giggled entering my room in a giddy manner. “How’s your costume going?” She asked watching as I got up from the desk across from my vanity, “Oh you know same old same old, hows Timmy?” I smirked as she blushed ducking her head as I cackled with laughter. “Hush..” She squirmed waving her hands as we both laughed, “if your actually wondering it’s not going so well, I can’t decide what to do” I sighed as her smile fell from her face, “Do you want any help? I can help I mean I’m kinda already helping....” she went onto ramble before being stopped by my raised hand.

“First take a chill pill, in fact everyone in the hell hole needs to take one, second I’m fine I’ll figure something out in time so stop worrying yourself, and third well third can be you getting you bee-hind outta here and back to that boy of yours” I exclaimed shooing her off and out of my room as she flipped me off pulling a face whilst doing so making me laugh at her childishness. “Children” I laughed light heartedly before going back to what I was doing before hand. I was fiddling with a metal box that I had found in the floor boards of my room, it seemed to have only been a few years old not as old as I originally imagined it to be.

“What are you hiding?” I mumbled using one of Coco’s hair clips of pick the lock on it. After what seemed like hours I gave up letting my head fall against the desk in utter exhaustion, “what have I got to do just wave my hand and say ‘open’” I scoffed copying my words before hearing a clinking noise looking up in disbelief I scowled at myself, “you’ve got to be joking” I growled opening it up to examine the contents of the mysterious box.

There was a red and white mask inside, it seemed hand made for a feminine figure with elegant patterns shaped into it. Placing it down next to the box I continued on, finding three photos underneath. One was of a blonde haired girl that seemed to be floating in amongst these swam like trees, the second one was of a couple dancing by a fire I couldn’t make out their face but they seemed so happy together in that moment of happiness captured within the photo. The final one was of the same blonde haired girl with half her body sticking out of a car window her head tilted so I could barely make out what they looked like but the girl looked to be having fun. “Who are you?” I asked aloud looking in the backs of the see small messages written.

My 19th was the best I’d ever felt, thank you for it, E xx

I found a new ability with the others, maybe we can work them together one day?? E xx

The first time I let you drive my car I don’t know whether to forgive you for nearly crashing it or not, E xx

E xx

Staring at the messages in wonder I got up moving to my bed to lay down at looked at them more and more.

My mind was racing and pounding in an attempt to work out who the people in the pictures were, flashes of images crossed my mind but never clear enough to make sense. Always leaving me in the dark asking same questions.

Who are they??

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nightvision-of-thesoul · 6 years

Text

stolen hearts

this story is a long one, the longest i’ve ever written before, so it’s coming in smaller doses so it’s not overwhelming!! it started for my love and desire to write out the first scene with michael in it at the outpost, and sort of built on it from there. @nihilnovesubsole is my biggest supporter and i would never have started w/o her!!! i hope you all enjoy and want to read more- i wanted to set up the foundation before i moved into the smut but it’s coming >:) lemme know what you think!! (also, though she does take the action of mallory’s character in this part i did not take the reader in that direction after this i just liked that interaction!!)

@ritualmichael

PART 1

things are about to change at the outpost.

The warm, orange glow of the candles cascaded a false sense of security and sincerity over the extended dining hall, shadows and light playing around the room with one another. The smell of stew wafted through the stiflingly underground air. Though boiled snake would not always be considered an appetizing smell, hot food of any kind or quantity was a blessing compared to the small, flavorless cubes of protein we were normally subjected to. The cart’s handle rumbled underneath my hands as it passed over the tiny imperfections in the stone floor and I brought the meal in for the members of the elite, a group of whom I woefully could not consider myself.

From the opposite side of the room, I could hear the nasally, high pitched voice of Coco, replying to Ms. Mead about the gourmet luxury of the evening.

“You know, I have a strict rule about eating things with no legs, or, too many legs for that matter,” she stated in her usual disdainful manner, upturning her lips and trying to get a better look into the massive bowl in the cart that held inch long sections of the snakes that were bobbing up and down eerily in the broth.

“Eat it or don’t. No one’s gonna force it down ya.” Mead’s eyes were glued in an icy stare to Coco’s face as she answered the complaint, neglecting to hide what everyone else felt but was too tactful to manifest: complete disdain for Ms. Vanderbilt. I wasn’t the biggest fan of her either, but before the nuclear fallout I was her personal assistant. As arbitrary as it seems now, she was one of the nation’s biggest stars, with an ego to match: the apocalypse did little to change that mindset.

The other grays and I began ladling the soup into the lavish bowls, and despite the apparent protestations to eating something that slithered as such, the majority of the elites took the meal with gratitude. Coco’s nose was still risen towards the sky as I slid a full bowl in between her place settings, but she cautiously began poking around at smaller sections of the reptile as if to find the most appetizing segment before chowing down. There was little conversation as the servings were handed out, apart from a remark from Evie, who began sharing an anecdote about some kind of decadent snake soup she’d had in some place or another with someone of heightened societal position. Her desire to cling to her status of the past usually made her a point of ridicule, but the tale garnered a few chuckles nonetheless. As Dinah had pointed out, the soup was food, and we are all starving, too hungered to care about making any snide remarks directed at the ancient grandmother of Mr. Gallant.

My mouth watered as I returned the cart to its initial spot at the head of the table, looking down at what remained in the container and knowing my meal would not begin until hours after the purples had been satiated and moved on to the cocktail lounge to indulge themselves further. While it made sense, the only real reason for me even being granted into the fallout shelter being my affiliation with someone who could pay their way in, it still seemed unfair that I was the only member of our arriving quartet to be granted the short end of the stick, the position of servitude for all rather than just Coco. Instead, I was forced to watch her and everyone else live a lavish lifestyle that left me at the bottom of the food chain, picking up scraps and equating to little more in their eyes than the irradiated vermin that remained outside these walls. Every crack of Venable’s cane that reverberated throughout the Outpost was like a stab in the gut, never ceasing to remind me that every task I attended to slowly and carefully chipped away at my former dignity. My thoughts on classist injustices and the enticing smell of soup were cut short as a seldom heard voice chimed in to the minimal conversation, posing a question everyone seemed to have forgotten to be curious about.

“So, who’s in your office?” The voice belonged to Emily, one half of the pair of kids my age who had been brought to the shelter due to their “superior genetic makeup.” It was her room in which the multitude of snakes were found for this very meal, writhing around in her closet like they were caught in some kind of grotesque waltz. While no one questioned their presence, it was assumed they came from outside the fortress, though no mutations had been found, nor had there been any radiation detected in them at all. Only hours before, the alarms had been raised, and while Venable and Mead had tended to the security breach, no explanations were made. While it could’ve been snakes, just like the pigeon that set off the alarm earlier in the week, we all knew it wasn’t: the breach had been made by someone, and someone Venable clearly wasn’t ready to reveal.

“I beg your pardon?” Her deep voice came out strong and unwavering, inviting no real answer to that question, but getting one anyways.

“The alarms went off before, and someone came inside.” Emily’s voice was more pressing this time, and was followed up by her other half, Timothy.

“Who else is here?”

“All your questions will be answered in due course.” Venable’s gaze bored into Timothy and Emily, prompting an unspoken agreement to not urge the conversation along any further. Following the stern and pregnant pause, she finally turned her attention again to the whole of the room and gave a single command: “Eat.”

With the sound of her cane following the order, the regular chatter began to resume, though wary and calculated looks were now being passed from elite to elite, and with good reason. Who was it that came through those barricaded doors, and why was Venable so unwilling to share? With each new member that had joined us, they had wasted little time introducing the rest of us to the people we would be sharing our limited and claustrophobic space with. Why was this different?

Still standing in position by the head of the table, I had little time to formulate any more questions for myself as several loud wails suddenly arose from around the room. Several of the elites leapt from their chairs, sending the bowls of soup flying in disarray onto the floor. My first instinct was to feel contempt for their lack of gratitude, until I saw the reason behind their outburst: the snakes were once again whole, alive, and slithering through the broth, the candlelight glinting off their wet scales as they blithely passed through the trampling feet above them.

*****

“They were chopped up and boiled, how the fuck did they come back to life?” Coco’s voice could be heard again down the long corridor leading to the sitting area, rivaling the loud crackling in the fireplace. The snakes were the rampant subject of the evening still, even though Mead and the Fist had already taken the born-again creatures and disposed of them outside. No one had even approached the fact that the only hot meal in over a year had been a sham, everyone was simply too spooked to care. The circumstances surrounding the mysterious intruder had already heightened the general air of suspense and confusion, and the evening’s phenomenon did little to quell those feelings in everyone; even Venable was on edge.

“Beats me, I’m still wondering where the hell they came from,” Gallant replied, swirling around his glass of water as though it was a much-desired glass of wine after a long day at work. His eyes were fixed on the fire, his gaze reflecting the concern he felt. Unusual, considering his regular gift for levity in most situations. Typically, by now he’d find a way to make a joke about getting railed by a Hemsworth brother to lighten the mood.

“Maybe that is where they came from.” The words cut through the heat of the room like an icy blade, sending an inadvertent chill down my spine. They came from a man to my left, where I stood next to the doorway awaiting any requests with the other grays. I could see his silhouette outlined in my peripherals, but felt compelled by something, not to turn my head in the mysterious speaker’s direction.

The silence following the remark was palpable, broken only by the click of the stranger’s boots as they brought him around the edge of the room. Venable had taken her usual speaking position in front of the fire, standing with an exaggerated air of importance, a tight smile painted onto her face and her dark brown eyes locked onto the man as he approached her. His hair was long, just a touch past his shoulders, and a warm golden color that complemented the light of the embers. There was a slight curl at the ends that swayed back and forth along his back as he sauntered forward, up into place next to Venable, who had begun smiling at him like she was in on a little secret. He lingered for a moment beside her, his profile outlined by the flames behind him. It was some kind of stalemate playing out, his lips turned up in an expectant smile, his eyes slowly and carefully looking our administrator up and down. Slowly, Venable’s smile faded to a look of muted embarrassment and she could no longer meet his gaze. She walked slowly, regaining her poise as she stood next to Ms. Mead, allowing this mysterious gentleman to take her place. He finally oriented himself at the front of the room, allowing us all to see his face fully for the first time.

His eyes were an icy, cold blue, slightly slanted down at the corners. They framed his face just right, set just slightly above his slender nose. It was hard not to focus on his lips as he began to speak, full as they were, ever curved in that sardonic smirk that made it clear he knew he was in charge, much to Venable’s obvious chagrin.

“My name is Langdon, and I represent the Cooperative.” The words spilled from his mouth like honey, a bitter honey that coated your ears but sent another chill through your spine, much like the first time he spoke.

“I won’t sugarcoat the situation. Humanity is on the brink of failure. My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth. The three other compounds In Syracuse, New York, Beckley, West Virginia, and San Angelo, Texas have been overrun and destroyed. We've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated.” All eyes were glued to his visage, his undeniable air of superiority. Gallant was paying particularly close attention, and I couldn’t blame him. There was something about him that drew you in, and handsome confidence that didn’t allow you to look away.

“What happened to the people inside?” Andre broke the silence with his question, voicing what no one wanted to acknowledge in light of this new information. With a sharp turn of his head in the young man’s direction, Langdon uttered his sort reply.

“Massacred.” His voice barely above a whisper, and the slight smile never left his face. “The same fate that will befall almost all of you.” His pause before the word ‘almost’ left a space open for interpretation, one that was not lost on us. Before I even knew what I was saying, I blurted out, “Almost all?” Even from across the room, I could feel his attention shift to me immediately, drilling me with his eyes. I quickly found something interesting to examine on my shoes, hoping for nothing more than to rid myself of the heat of shame that followed that stare. He didn’t answer the question, but seamlessly flowed into the next parts of his speech. Though he was no longer looking, I could still feel the smoldering gaze that felt like it was still burning a hole in me.

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe: The Sanctuary. The Sanctuary is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun.”

The next person to join in the discussion was Ms. Mead, who politely interjected.

“Excuse me sir, what measures? I mean, why weren’t we given them?” Still with that ceaseless smile, his attention turned to the older woman. Again, his response was curt.

“That’s classified.” With a pause to ensure no more interruptions, and a slow scan around the room, he began once more. “All that matters is that The Sanctuary will survive, so the people populating it will survive, so humanity will… survive.” His voice melted on the last word, hanging on to it like a vice grip.

“Who are the people who are populating it?” Kyle inquired from his seat next to Emily. It was clear from the way he clutched her hands that he hoped they might be the lucky pair to hop straight to repopulation. This was not lost on Langdon, though it was clear his patience was thinning.

“Also classified. However, I have been sent to determine whether any of you are worthy or fit to join us.” With this, the tension that had built throughout his monologue palpably eased. The erect postures around the room and the positions on the edges of seats eased back to recline in the realization that any one of us could possibly escape this cramped hell hole. A ripple of muted conversation passed alone each member, even among the grays.

“Do you think that includes us?” The one boy next to me asked. I couldn’t come up with an answer, just the wonder in the back of my mind: would it be possible? Were the things Langdon was looking for something that could be found in someone considered lesser than those dressed in purple?

Again, my thoughts were cut short as he began once more. His voice carried loudly enough to silence the sea of murmurs immediately.

“The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call "Cooperating." I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong.” He waved his hands out to each side as though the explanation was obvious. Apparently to a certain few, it still wasn’t.

“What is this, The Hunger Games? This is bullshit. I paid my way in here, and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing.” The whining coming from Coco struck a particular nerve this time, clearly not just with me. Gallant rolled his eyes and Langdon was again caught short of patience.

“You don’t have to sit for questioning. You can instead just stay here, and die.” There was no smile this time. Not leaving her any time for embarrassment, Gallant finally spoke up for the first time since his remarks about the snakes.

“I volunteer to go first.” He looked around the room as if to challenge someone to suggest themselves first, though no one offered.

With an almost imperceptible sigh, he replied. “And so you shall.” Langdon bowed his head slightly in the bleach blonde’s direction, feigning courtesy. “The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won't be kept in suspense forever. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost. If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking, down one of these.” He extracted a small vial of white pills from the folds of his draped jacket and held them high enough for all to see.

“One minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up.” Silence fell again, and he let us soak in all the options that had just been set before us.

“I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” With a slight rattle, he thrust the bottle of pills back into his pocket and gave another quick glance around the room. Though it was clear no more protestations would be accepted, he left no time for further discussion anyhow, briskly striding around the opposite side of the room from which he came in towards the exiting corridor. As he passed, I caught his eyes once more. It was reminiscent of the sensation one gets when they find themselves atop a mountain in a lightning storm: the hair on the back of your neck and arms begin to prickle with a life of their own, and it’s as though you can feel the current of the electricity replace some of the blood in your veins. Those cold baby blues sent the shock down my body from head to toe, even in just the space of an instant. The air that rushed past me as he made his way out the door smelled sweet at first, yet quickly left a sour taste in my mouth, much like the aroma of a wilting flower. Such strange sensations to follow an equally strange man, but the combination of them all made my toes curl. Who, or what, was he?

#michael langdon x reader #fanfiction #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #writing #coco st. pierre vanderbilt #miriam mead #i'm so scared to post this #shit #fuck #yikes #pls read!!!!!#michael langdon

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