#lucifer/michael

[i-bring-crack]

Scene idea running through my mind; Lucifer full of despair after having his last meeting with God because he has been told the events of the future and the role he is supposed to play, far far away from everything he has loved, just for their sake, everyone’s sake, maybe even his own— and as he slowly walks, dazed and terrified, the young prince appears from a corner with a gentle smile, coming closer to his aid, worried over his apparent fears. In that instant he finally understands, and asks the naive prince if he wishes to have a taste of the tree of knowledge. When the prince accepts, both flaming souls meet and part away just as quickly. The prince can only realize what the action was when he sees the human do it, their lips meeting, their bodies trying to become whole again before they had been separated.

[themichiferqueen]

The Barbie and The Ken

Fandom: Bible Gen, Christian Testament, Dexter x-over Pairing: Lucifer/Michael Premise: A serial killer who only targets terrible people makes a deal with a handsome detective

“I know it’s you, Barbie.”

Lou begins with his hands clasped atop his desk and his ass parked in his seat. The backdrop that occupies them is a classic 1940s style office with scuffed, hardwood floors and unexciting, white walls. The only thing that made it interesting to the man sitting across from him was all the delicate art of classics like The Fallen Angel and The Fall of the Rebel Angels hung up and around the room. “I know you’re the one going around slaughtering useless scum around the city.”

And the man across from him with long, silken, blonde hair with his classic blue eyes will mimic Lou’s action, crosses one leg over the other before clasping his hands upon his knee. It’s then that he’d adjust his face in what he assumes mimics concern, brows furrowing, lips curling into a frown. “I beg your pardon? I come here to see if you’ve found my girlfriend’s body and this is what you come back at me with?”

I guess you’re incapable of finding her, then. “I’m going to report you and your whole precinct over to the next district if you don’t give me an answer soon.”

Lou says nothing for a moment, a long moment, just drums his fingers atop the glass panel that protects his desk before scooting the chair back with a distinct grinding noise of wood to wood. Then, he pulls open a small drawer real slow, stands up even slower, before dangling in front of the man’s eyes the backside of a single piece of paper.

“You can go ahead and do that if you’d like, Barbie, I understand we’ve failed to produce any meaningful results in finding her. But um, I’m sure the next district over won’t care to look for shit once they realize you have no girlfriend at all.”

Lou now walks around his desk, leans against the front so the distance between him and the man are just about nonexistent, gives the blonde just enough room for their knees not to clack together by a breath. It’s then and only then that he presents the front of the paper for the man to see as daylight floods through the massive glass window behind the detective. It was his birth certificate fresh from a monastery states and states away. 

“Michael Ryan. This is you, isn’t it? Some rich brat from Long Island who got shipped over to the nearby psych ward some odd years ago . . .yes, I think if you ask me, I prefer that name to Matthew for certain.”

And the man now known as Michael stares for a good, long second at the birth certificate, his certificate, knows he’s been caught yet won’t concede just because this wicked little detective has one piece of evidence as he feigns confusion. Lou sees this, the game, and decides he quite fucking likes it as he goes on to say this:

“You came to report your girlfriend went missing about a couple months ago when told me you both go to the University of Santa Barbara and live on campus, yet when I did a little looky-look into your records, I’m informed that you’re a stock broker who lives alone in Los Angeles. Seems strange to me that you’d feel the need to lie about who you are if you have nothing to hide.”

Doesn’t it, Barbie? “Everybody in town’s been calling you that because we keep finding a bunch of chopped up body parts scattered around like rat shit. I’d say that’s a fitting enough nickname as it is, but the whole blonde hair, blue eyes schtick really does it for me.”

Michael sighs through his nose, plucks his hat from where he let it dangle off the chair before bringing its wide brim to his face. He would cover it for a moment with closed eyes, then peels it back to reveal the wicked glint in his eyes with a cruel smirk to match it. 

“And if it is me, what exactly are you going to do about it, huh? All that wit of yours is meaningless considering your precinct’s budget is nonexistent and your staff are thin. By the time you even think about sending a warrant out for my arrest, I’ll have left the country already.”

Lou’s brow twitches, lips curling upward in a smirk that rivaled his own. There was quite the gleam in that lilac gaze; the delicate framing of his long, shaggy hair only enhanced what a delicate beaut he was in Michael’s eyes. “You most certainly can and will, of that I’m certain. But I’d like to think that you have some goodwill in that heart of yours considering I’ve seen you hack up four bodies already and haven’t once sent the deputies to the real locations.”

What is this, a test? Michael raises both brows with the smirk never leaving him, a chuckle once trapped in his throat now escaping him. “Then I consider you a terrible detective for letting all those poor souls go unanswered, because I’m certain their loved ones would love to know what in the Hell happened to them.”

Lou resists the urge to laugh, sets the paper down something delicate on the desk but will not concede his position in front of the blonde. “That would be true if any of your victims had next of kin who gave a shit. Since your little killing spree started, I’ve not had a single person come in to ask what happened.” 

That’s quite impressive if you ask me. “Most killers of your creed get caught because they get sloppy. Not you, though. You are so meticulous, it’s a wonder I caught you at all!”

Michael smiles with pride, real pride, drums his fingers now against his knee and feels the knuckles tap against Lou’s leg. “Whatever you want of me, Mr. Morningstar, I should prefer it that you tell me now because otherwise, I’ll have to add you to my roster to keep that mouth of yours shut.”

Lou says nothing for a moment again, a long moment, can’t help but match the smile with pride of his own. “I want to make a deal with you.”

A deal, huh? No other cock sucking cop would ever get Michael to make a fucking deal without it raising his hackles, yet it were with that pretty face and clever wit that he could not help but listen. “You have my attention for exactly one minute before I leave and plot your execution."

Lou laughs for real this time, shakes his head some with closed eyes before returning to those bruising blues he too finds quite lovely. 

“It's real simple, I promise! In exchange for letting you continue to wipe out vagrants and cunts uncontested, you come and start working for me as my understudy. I can’t keep sicking my men on false leads and they’re going to catch you eventually if your killing spree doesn't corroborate with a good story.”

Working with me, I can cover for you. “All you have to do is come with me to your crime scenes so you can help me improve my alibis and falsify the evidence. It’ll also cover your ass so that as the bodies pile up, they won’t be able to trace it back to you.”

Michael makes a smug face for certain, nose wrinkling with his eyes glimmering sharper than the knives he uses to do his job. It’s then that he’ll rise to his feet for good, plopping the hat down where he once sat so he can get a closer look at this so-called ‘Lou’; considering the absolute lack of distance as it were, the blonde can’t help but press into him some, rests his hands in between the brunette’s on the desk. 

“Helping me get away with what I’m doing gives me the impression you have a terrible set of morals, Mr. Morningstar.”

Lou smiles like somebody told him he won a million dollars, does not flinch or break the contact Michael put upon him. It has the effect of endearing the blonde; for once in his life, he did not see this body before him as one to cut into, but to keep close to him instead.

“I’d like to think that improved crime rates in the city thanks to your work gives me an improved set of morals, Mr. Ryan.”

Oh, that’ll do Michael just fine. It’s such that a genuine smile flits across his lips, eyes darting back and forth between Lou’s lovely lilac gaze and those pouty little lips. If this birdie here doesn’t mind it, he’d then rest one of his hands on the detective’s hip with a hum. “Not even afraid I’ll slice and dice you up once you’ve bored me?”

Lou just lilts his head, refuses to break away from those bruising blue eyes as their noses damn near brush. He didn’t protest the hand upon his hip at all, quite likes it himself as he gets a little tipsy off that sweet cologne that he's inhaling.

“I promise you, Michael, that you will never bore of me.”

And those were the right choice of words, for Michael jerks himself away from Lou like none of that just happened with a smug smirk plastered on his face. Now that the deal was struck, all he would do is pluck his hat off of the chair and his suitcase from the floor before moving towards the door. “So be it. I’ll start in three days time and lay low until then, sound good to you?”

No, Lou counters as he strolls back to his seat, also pretends like none of that just happened. “You start tomorrow and you go kill some son of a bitch tonight so we can keep the pressure on the precinct. The faster you strike, the harder it is for any of my men to figure it out.”

Not his preference, but Michael likes the way this one thinks, gives a curt nod as he slips his hat back onto his head.

“As you’ll have me, then. See you in the morning. . .Ken.”

Lou laces his fingers back together, though he will rest his chin upon them this time around.

“Sure will, Barbie. You sure will.”

[quietwingsinthesky]

If you're still doing the drabble thing, could you write some Michifer mpreg fluff/fix it. Like Michael's pov on Lucifer being pregnant and coming to terms with it and what it means for their relationship? No pressure though, sorry if this seems pushy

Anon, dear anon, not only is it not pushy at all, it is encouraged! Prompts do make the world go round.

Fic can be found here on AO3 for reading convenience and is also right below.

Their actions in the Cage weren’t supposed to have consequences. When there was no escape from the pit, no meaningful passage of time in eternity, no outside eyes peering in on them, how were they supposed to remain as they fell, estranged and furious? They fought for a very long time, and ignored each other for longer, and finally, wove grace through grace in profound intimacy. Michael could have stayed like that forever. He had his other half back, and that was all that mattered.

A seed was planted, but in Hell’s stasis, it laid inert.

It’s Raphael who eventually frees them. Michael doesn’t know the details because they don’t want to talk about it, but he gathers that they hoped they would find something more behind the bars than two brothers reconciled. When they don’t, it’s the straw on the camel’s back, and Raphael finally abandons their post. Michael tries not to hold their distance against them. If anyone deserves a break from serving Heaven, it’s Raphael.

That leaves him and Lucifer alone together. Michael could return to Heaven. In duty’s name, maybe he should.

He’s not going to. He did everything right, and nothing went as it was supposed to. In his mind, he’s no longer under any obligations, and if their Father takes issue with it, He can come down to the cabin Michael and Lucifer call home and order Michael back to Heaven Himself. His Father’s absence is a strange kind of security.

Lucifer wanted someplace remote. Michael had no arguments. Neither of them would have been very good at living among humans even before their extended stint in isolation. This way, they can go out and watch people like they’re birds, memorizing patterns of behavior and noting to each other the different kinds they see, and then have a safe home to return to once they get too overwhelmed. Quiet walls, and warm air, and a comfortable bed to nest in together – it’s all Michael could have dreamed of when Lucifer tucks himself under Michael’s wing and refuses to budge for hours, soaking up all of his brother’s affection.

Until the day Lucifer suddenly begins to pull away.

It starts with a dropped plate.

Lucifer won’t abide a dirty home. It’s a quirk of his that Michael finds both endearing and saddening. It’s not the mess Lucifer has a problem with. He loves sticking his hands in the dirt in the garden he’s made for them, and he had fun during the process of painting their new home, getting covered in different shades of emerald and lavender and a dozen others that Michael couldn’t leave behind once he’d sampled their colors at the store. But the rooms of the cabin are all spotless, and their clothes are all well-washed, and Lucifer makes sure the plates are all clean by hand.

Michael does his own share of the cleaning, but when Lucifer is in the middle of it, he doesn’t want help. (Or, at least, he doesn’t want Michael’s.) Instead, Michael contents himself with watching his brother. Lucifer is very expressive through his vessel in a way Michael can’t get the hang of, and it’s interesting to watch the way his eyes and mouth move minutely to accompany his thoughts.

Before it happens, Michael notes a shift at the corner of Lucifer’s mouth that comes with him biting the inside of his cheek, a slight furrow between his brows joined by a lowering of his eyelids, and then a full reversal of both, widened eyes and mouth falling open. And that is when the plate drops and cracks Michael out of his observations.

Michael is at Lucifer’s side in a moment. Ceramic bites into his sole, and he jolts at the feeling of it. It doesn’t hurt, but he doesn’t enjoy the feeling of a foreign object invading his vessel’s flesh. He puts it aside to touch Lucifer’s hands. There’s a tremble, soft as a moth’s wing and gone the moment Michael is holding him. Lucifer exhales.

”What’s wrong?” Michael asks. “What upset you?” Was it me? He never asks that. He knows he should, but he doesn’t think he could stand to hear Lucifer say yes.

Lucifer’s hands clench under his own. “I’m not upset.”

“But you-“

”I’m not upset,” Lucifer insists. That tone frustrates Michael. It’s a barrier between them, and after thousands of years apart, Michael should be used to not knowing every corner of his brother’s heart. Somehow, being shut out still hurts. Lucifer looks down at their feet. “You know you’re standing on the shards, don’t you?” Michael is about to reprimand him for trying to change the subject, but then he shifts his weight and sends the ceramic cutting further into his foot. He cringes. Lucifer moves his hands out of Michael’s grip, and before Michael can react, they end up at his waist. Lucifer hauls him up and onto the counter.

”The fact that you can toss my vessel around doesn’t mean you should,” Michael mutters, and Lucifer ignores him, lifting Michael’s foot to deftly pull the shard out himself. Michael winces again at the drag on his flesh.

“Where’s your pain tolerance, brother? Did you get soft hiding out in Heaven?” Lucifer teases, and even as Michael scowls, he presses a kiss to Michael’s mouth. Lucifer delights in pointing out any little wince on Michael’s part since Michael let Castiel light him on fire. Lucifer is going to hold that over his head forever.

He’s very good at getting on Michael’s nerves. Good enough that Michael forgets entirely why he was worried enough about Lucifer to come over in the first place. For now.

Lucifer continues to pull away. Michael will never believe he's made up for what he did to his brother, but he had thought that they'd gotten past the worst of their anger in the Cage. He doesn't understand why Lucifer keeps him at a distance now. He shrinks from Michael's grace and won't snuggle under his wings and every conversation they share is either terse and cut off quickly or turned on its head by Lucifer annoying Michael until he abandons whatever line of questioning he mustered up. He can't help but feel like he's failing Lucifer somehow, as though this is some test of Michael’s love. It gets under his skin, gnawing away at their domestic life. He can't even apologize because he has no idea what to apologize for. Is this a remnant of the trauma the Cage inflicted on Lucifer, or is it a more recent misstep that Michael doesn't even know about?

Worse is when Michael recognizes that there is something wrong with Lucifer’s grace. He can’t tell what it is, not when Lucifer won’t let him close enough, but if there’s only one thing Michael knows, it’s the energy that makes up his brother’s true form. There’s no mistaking the change, no matter how subtle the shifts are at first, the redirecting of power, the sudden guarded force around parts of Lucifer’s grace that aren’t usually vulnerable.

Michael gets more and more concerned as the days go by. He tries to broach the subject, clumsily, and gets shut down by a dismissive, “I’m fine, Michael. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lucifer only becomes more withdrawn after that.

In the end, he goes looking for help from his other reticent sibling. It takes a little while to find Raphael and longer to convince them to talk to him.

”I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t an emergency,” Michael tells them. Raphael is half-burrowed in the Antarctic snow, giving more attention to the gaggle of penguins they’re watching exchange stones than to Michael. Michael sighs and takes a seat beside them, getting his out-of-place jeans wet. “There’s something wrong with Lucifer.” Raphael snorts. There’s a definite air of ‘why are you telling me this’ to the noise.

It occurs to Michael that he doesn’t have that many friends.

”Raphael, please,” he persists, “I think he might be hurt. He won’t let me help him.”

”And he’d let me?” Raphael squirms deeper into the snow. Michael wonders what the point of that is. The penguins can clearly see him and aren’t bothered by his presence, so there’s no reason Raphael has to hide.

“You’re the reason we’re here at all,” Michael says. He looks down at Raphael and then moves to lay on his stomach with them in the snow. He can feel how cold it is against his vessel’s skin, frostbite beaten off by the heat of Michael’s grace. His shirt gets soaked as well. He watches the penguins stride about in pairs, and single ones honk with delight when they find another who will accept a gifted stone and join them. Raphael stays quiet beside him.

Snow glides down onto Michael’s hair. He pillows his chin on his arms. Aside from the sounds of the penguins and the wind, it’s very calm.

“I’ll leave you be.” Raphael rolls their shoulders, disturbing the snow that has gathered there. “I can’t order you to do this, and I don’t want to.”

”Wait.” A single, quiet command. Michael stays where he is. The two of them watch as the penguins waddle off and gather more stones, building nests together started with those first gifts. It takes a few hours for every nest to be built to the satisfaction of the birds. Only when the last of them has settled down does Raphael finally sit up. Michael rolls onto his back, feeling far less riddled with anxiety. “Okay. Now, we can go check on our brother.”

Raphael pauses at the garden when they land outside Michael and Lucifer’s cabin. Their eyes pass over the well-tended to flowers, especially the roses the climb protectively around the front door. There’s a question in their eyes that they keep behind their lips, passing Michael when he opens the door for them.

Michael can hear Lucifer singing, an echo that bounces back and forth between rooms just to reach him and let him know Lucifer is happy. He’ll stop singing the moment he realizes either of them are there, but one day, Michael hopes, that won’t be true. He leads Raphael in further, feet sinking into the fluffy, warm carpet that welcomes him home, and up the stairs to the bedroom nest that he and Lucifer share. Lucifer has stopped now.

“You’re dripping all over the floor,” Lucifer tells Michael as he enters the bedroom. He’s lounging, relaxed, arms crossed over his stomach. He doesn’t even lift his head, not until Raphael follows Michael in. The change is jarring. The minute Lucifer realizes they’re both there, between him and the exit, he tenses up, suspicious eyes locked on them.

Michael tries to disarm his worry, looking down at the small puddle he’s standing in like he has no idea how it got there, despite it being very obvious from the snow melting on the back of his jacket collar.

”Sorry about the mess,” he says. Lucifer’s sits up, eyes flicking between him and Raphael. If he flies off, that’s going to make things much more difficult. Raphael steps around Michael. They’re peering very intensely at Lucifer, and it isn’t helping him to relax any easier.

The stare down carries on far longer than it should.

”How did you-“ Raphael sounds bewildered.

”Raphael.” Lucifer’s voice is tight.

“What is it?” Raphael looks over at Michael, opens their mouth, and then shuts it again with another glance at Lucifer. Michael feels panic begin to rise in him again. What could be so horrible that Lucifer needs Raphael to hide it? He jumps to the worst conclusion. “Are you dying?” All Michael can think is that it’s a punishment for them daring to step out of their roles, Lucifer’s bid for autonomy and Michael’s brother stolen away all in one fell swoop, as cruel a lesson as could be. Lucifer looks shocked at the suggestion.

”He’s not dying,” Raphael says. They turn to Lucifer again, frowning. “You have to tell him.”

”I don’t have to do anything.” Lucifer crosses his arms more tightly and curls in on himself. His grace mimics the posture like he’s protecting something.

”I’m not doing it for you. This is between the two of you.” Raphael goes to leave them. Michael is about to stop them and demand an explanation when they stall by the door. They look back at Lucifer. There’s something softer behind their eyes. Michael has missed it. “I’m happy for you, brother.”

Lucifer’s mouth twists. Raphael sighs. Before their foot hits the floor on the other side of the doorway, they’re gone. Michael has no idea where they’ll go now, back to huddle in the snow or to warmer climates. He hopes it won’t be months until he sees them again this time.

For now, he has another problem to solve. Lucifer won’t meet his eyes.

”It is something I did, isn’t it?” Michael asks. It’s the only reason he has left why Lucifer might be hiding whatever this is from him. To his surprise, Lucifer chuckles without a smile to accompany it.

“Something you did to me, yes.” Michael’s chest clenches, and he swallows down his grief, pushing through to know how he’s hurt his brother now.

”What?” He steps towards Lucifer, knowing he should keep his distance but unable to prevent himself from wanting to comfort him. Lucifer studies him.

“How long is this going to last, Michael?” he asks, and he sounds tired. Michael doesn’t understand, and so, without an answer, Lucifer continues, “when are you going to stop choosing me? Will I even get a warning before you decide to abandon me?” Michael’s attempts to stay back fail completely, and he crawls onto the bed with Lucifer. Lucifer doesn’t flinch away from him as Michael takes his hands and lifts them to his mouth, kissing along his knuckles.

“I’m never going to leave you,” Michael promises.

He can’t blame Lucifer for his doubt. Michael has never said those words out loud before. They’re true. He watches Lucifer’s face.

His frown softens. His eyes widen. His whole face transforms from guarded to open and vulnerable. Michael places a hand against Lucifer’s cheek.

”Nothing will change my mind. No one could.” Lucifer covers Michael’s hand with his own, clutching it close. He shuts his eyes for a moment to regain his composure.

Slowly, he draws both hands down from his face. Michael lets him. Lucifer’s grace unfurls beneath his own, barriers falling to let Michael in once more. Michael peers at his brother’s true form as his palm is pressed against Lucifer’s belly. He’s not sure what he’s seeing, what he’s feeling, until Lucifer drops the last walls that keep Michael’s grace out and-

Oh.

Michael is frozen in shock. There’s a connection to his own grace that Lucifer has been hiding from him, and across it he knows that they are creating something. That should be impossible. Angels may revive and change and even, as Lucifer proved so long ago, corrupt what is already there, but they cannot create anything new.

Lucifer cradles that impossible bloom of new grace, drawing their life from both archangels.

”We have a child,” Michael breathes. The connection to his grace isn’t a conscious one yet, but he can feel the little light within Lucifer growing, changing, becoming.

No wonder Lucifer hid this from him. He had to be sure Michael would stay to nurture their child. As if Michael could ever leave them.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” Lucifer asks, and Michael can see the way he’s devoted so much of his grace to keeping the child safe and helping them to grow. Without a doubt, Lucifer wants this.

“Yes,” Michael agrees. He kisses Lucifer, wrapping his wings around both of their true forms and around their little angel. He knows that the baby’s grace cannot understand it yet, but he sends love through their connection. He will never let them feel abandoned.

[dailymichifer]

in Swan Song, Michael was forced to go back to Heaven to heal the injuries caused by the holy oil Molotov. What if he(/Raphael) didn't manage to completely heal them (because Michael had to rush back to Earth when he felt the Cage open) and the fall made them even worse?

His weakened state could lead to some interesting aus :) (dark, or hurt/comfort w/ Lucifer using his cold Grace to soothe the burns 👀)

[deviousangel-ao3]

Unexpected Outcomes

Lucifer opened his mouth several times to reply, an expression of a gaping fish settling across his otherwise handsome features, forcing his brother into the realisation that – no, his twin really was that stupid, or perhaps he didn’t even think of the consequences beforehand. The latter seemed more likely where the Lightbringer was concerned; after all, he hardly thinks about such things when in regards to what he wants to happen. The vice of being an Angel of Desire.

Feel free to read and hopefully enjoy this Michael/Lucifer oneshot written for the MDAS Secret Sword!

[featheredcrowbones]

the cast of OM after my MC makes them gayer except for the kids whose only worries are crayons and cookie dough

[fmayyy]

Lucifer is so Michael Scott coded…..

[demidoodlefox]

Oh shit! RIP duckie mug

Title is courtesy of Xelarande13 over at deviantart.

Confrontation AU Masterlist

[i-bring-crack]

Bible fandom sometimes be between you, a friend that shares all your delusion, and a Dead Author.

[themichiferqueen]

REVENGE OF THE PRIMES.

"Dialogues With the Devil" gets its revenge through the hands of Michael and Lucifer Prime. They know they've been giving us a runaround so THIS time, they'll just introduce themselves the old fashioned way: 'with a little tale.'

[devildomwriter]

Fun Facts 941-950

• After seeing and complementing a picture of Belphegor in a fedora Belphegor told Leviathan to stop acting like a fashion expert because it was cringe.

• Solomon once went mining for rock salt in the Devildom.

• According to Lucifer he doesn’t “check” Diavolo’s Devilgram, more like Diavolo shoves it in his face and forces him to look.

• Luke is the appointed caretaker of Michael’s gardens

• Mammon’s ideal married life starts mornings with greetings and a kiss

• Thirteen loves little dogs more than big ones

• Satan’s name means accuser or adversary

• There is no tipping culture in the Devildom. Lucifer only leaves tips to compensate establishments for his brothers’ behavior

• Magic books in the Devildom are never E-Books

• When Beelzebub and Belphegor fell to the Devildom, two small stars appeared in the sky

931-940 • 951-960

[bluewolfangel01]

*Takes place after Mc has died and they're now trapped in the celestial realm against their will, no matter what devilish acts they commit (probaly cause of Father's will or something)*

Rapheal: "Michael. Message from the Devildom."

Michael: "Yes Rapheal. What is it?"

Rapheal: *hands Michael a letter with the marked with the wax seal of the Demon King*

Michael: *reads the letter*

Michael: "So.... Unless we allow Mc to leave the celestial realm, the Devildom will declare war on us. And you are quite sure that they are all serious about this? About starting another war after a long period of peace, for a human soul?"

Rapheal: "I'm quite sure. Actually I'm suprised that they all had enough restraint to wait to send the letter."

Michael: *clearly deep in thought*

Michael: "I see."

Mc: "Told you they would start getting real antsy if I was kept here."

Mc: *in Michael's office, standing on the other side of his desk with arms crossed*

Michael: *holding his face in his hands*

Michael: "I should've known they'd do something like this."

Mc: "Yep, you should've. Anyways I'm gonna go be with my boys now. See ya."

Mc was immediately dog piled by their favorite demons upon their return to the Devildom and was not allowed to leave for a long while

(Also thank you to my wonderful mut @opiopal for the inspo)

[dailymichifer]

Medieval Michifer

dragon slayer!Michael vs dragon!Lucifer

Guinevere and Lancelot AU

Knight!Michael repressing his impure thoughts for nun/high priestess!Lucifer

Bodyguard AU

Warrior priest Michael vs necromancer Lucifer

Witch-hunter/Inquisitor Michael and heretic!Lucifer

crown prince Michael/king's advisor!Lucifer fomenting a rebellion

[myrtles-and-blood]

Discovering that stuff in your life aligns a lot with correspondences of the deities your worship is so weird and comforting at the same time.

Like, you've been there all my life and you didn't tell me you sneaky bitch, I love you.

[roadkill-punk]

oc posting