#demon!michael

He didn’t speak, eyes focused on the growing puddle of blood that surrounded his feet and filled with so much emotion. You joined him in silence, setting your phone down besides you as slowly and quietly as you could, feeling as if any sudden movement could set him off like a wild animal disturbed from its slumber. You watched as he dug his fingers into the palms of his hands, something you often caught him doing whilst trying to contain impending outbursts he didn't want let loose.

Deciding you should say something, you spoke what could perhaps be called a whisper. “He’s still not answering you, is he?” He ever so slightly shook his head at your question, emitting a low chuckle as he ran his tongue over his top teeth and looked up at you. He struck eye contact with you, his eyes bloodshot and his pupils blown wide. “No.”

You stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other from opposite sides of the room as the tension in the air grew so thick it felt as if it was choking you, your worried eyes looking across into his own rage filled ones.

He started sauntering towards you heavily, eyes never leaving your form and neck slowly craning itself down to continue staring you out the closer he got. Reaching where you sat, he gripped the counter either side of you, his defined hands leaving crimson stains on the previously pristine kitchen counter from the fresh cuts his nails had made as he towered above you. You looked up at him, feeling what you could only describe as fear, waiting for him to do something. anything.

Your own breathing was the only thing you could hear, and you could feel Michael’s fanning over your goosebump decorated skin. You couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, his blank facial expression masking any thoughts running through his mind as he stared you down in a contest you’d never asked to be a part of. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, grabbing your colour drained cheeks roughly, smearing blood on your face and kissing you so violently your teeth were clashing against his.

He was practically shaking with rage, which only fuelled him to move against you faster. His hands stumbled their way down to the thin black shirt of his you’d been wearing all night and ripped the front in two, aggressively yanking the cloth off your body and taking rough handfuls of your breasts. He massaged and squeezed them, pinching your nipples so hard it made you squeak through his kiss and arch your back at the pain.

He moved his hands down to your thong and attempted to pull it down your legs, but let out a grunt of irritation when it was taking longer than it should’ve and ripped it off you too. It dropped it to the floor, following the fate of the shirt he had also just ruined. He pushed his mouth over your face and neck, rushing to taste you as if he would soon run out of time to savour it. The tips of his hair tickled the top of your exposed breasts, teasing you with their delicate touch.

“I don't need him, you know.” He stated, his voice surprising you and deepened with fury as he nibbled on your jawline, leaving the slightest of teeth marks on your skin.

“I’ll create our new world now! without any of his input. Since that’s so clearly what he wants.” He moved down to suck on your breasts somewhat aggressively, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your nipples as you writhed and moaned underneath him, feeling his anger, but too lost in the pleasure of his lips to understand what it was he was hinting at.

“And I think the perfect way to do that is to start right here, don’t you agree pet?” he husked out his words with vengeance, angry at his father for ignoring him after so many nights spent trying to contact him and growing impatient with the need to fill you with his seed. You gasped, realising what he meant and smiling up at him wildly. You knew this was going to happen at some point; the two of you spoke about bringing your own little antichrist into the world constantly, but you hadn't guessed it would be happening so soon.

He interrupted your thoughts by lifting you up and lowering you down onto the floor, pressing your bare body onto the cold flooring below and inserting himself between your legs. He grabbed ahold of your throat, using his choke hold to pin you down and taking the slightest moment of calm before scratching his hand down your body. You let out a pained whimper, feeling the leftover blood on his fingers mix with your fresh blood in the claw marks he had left in your skin, trailing from your chest to just over your bellybutton.

He looked up at you and tilted his head, a smirk creeping onto his face. “What do you say we make your little nickname for me official, breed you and make me a real daddy? Hm?”

Your chest heaved underneath him, rising and falling quickly as adrenaline coursed through you. You nodded back as fast as you could, still taken aback by his sudden need to breed you and shocked any of this was happening in the first place.

His eye twitched with impatience as he squeezed your neck momentarily, letting you know he felt your nodding was unsatisfactory. He wanted you to spell it out for him.

“Yes Michael! Please breed me!” You gave him what he wanted, lifting your thighs to wrap them around his torso as you spoke, trying to gather more control over the situation. You needed the sudden thirst of lust he had thrusted upon you to be quenched.

“Thats my fucking girl.” He moved to hover above you, bringing his face down to yours and grazing his nose over yours teasingly. He took a hold of his cock pumping it into his hand and trapping you under his intense gaze.

He pushed inside you, needing his cock to be buried as deep inside of you as physically possible. You let out a strangled cry, gripping onto his arms above you and staring into his blackening eyes. They had grown blind with rage, staring into yours soullessly when he pulled out of you almost entirely, stopping only to smile at you devilishly for the first time that night before slamming back into you at a viscous pace. His balls slapped against your skin ferociously, the noise of it and your moans were the only thing to be heard in the dark room.

Every second it felt as if the room grew darker. Michael felt like the only thing that was real, he was definitely the only thing you could see at least. It was as if everything else was falling into the darkness and dissipating from your mind entirely, as if the room was getting closer and closer to your sweating skin.

“You’ll be so beautiful filled with my seed.” He spoke his thoughts allowed, his brutal thrusts taking his breath between words. You rolled your hips over his in response, wishing his words to be true with every bone in your body. He moaned at this, reading your thoughts and taking his hand from your neck and sliding his bloody fingers into your gaping lips.

“Your stomach all swollen with my child.” He continued his stream of thought, forcing his fingers down your throat and making you gag on them, your tongue adjusting to the sour metallic twang now coating it and licking his fingers as if it was his cock he had placed in your mouth.

He yanked his hand from your mouth, leaving you to gasp and cough out between moans. He instead grabbed at your delicate wrist, his large hand easily wrapping around it and brining your palm to lay flat over your lower abdomen. “Can you feel me?” he punctuated his words with deep movements, pressing your hand down to feel his cock moving inside of you. “Yes I can feel you! oh my god fuck!”

He throws your hand to the side, holding your forearm down on the stone. “God isn’t here, Darling.” his voice came out in a snarl, deeper than usual as a demonic tone overcame him. You grabbed at the back of his neck with your spare hand, pulling him down to meet you in a moan filled kiss.

You’re interrupted when you hear a low hissing to the left of you. You turn your head to find the sudden noise and notice snakes. Actual snakes, impossibly slithering their way from under your kitchen counters and leaving trails of more blood on the floor beside to you.

He pulled himself out of you, centring your attention back to him when he leant down on the floor and brought your cunt to his face. He licked a long stripe up your folds, rightfully earning the pornographic moan that escaped from your throat. Your fingers grasped and slipped across the bloody marble floor when his tongue started flicking vigorously at your clit, pressing hard into your sensitive numb and forcing you to move your empty grabby hands to his dampening locks.

He dipped his tongue inside you, still moving it quickly and making you open your mouth to scream without any noise spilling out. He replaced his tongue with his skilled fingers, pumping them in and out of you and curling them into your g spot. “Nothing satisfies me more than that look on your face when i’m about to let you cum.” He muses, a kind of amusement apparent in his voice when he pulls his fingers back from your greedy hole. “Except from the look you give me when I take it away.” He watches your next moves carefully, wanting to get a rise out of you.

“Don’t fucking tease me Michael Langdon!” You raise yourself on your elbows and shoot him an angry glare, caught up in the moment and pissed off at his cruel edging. He narrows his eyes at you, a flick of his wrist forcing you down onto your back as you mentally curse yourself for talking back to the demon situated between your legs.

He rose above you again, sliding into your wet pussy with ease and stroking your face with the backside of his hand. “Should’ve known better than to tell me what to do.” He tutted at you, His knuckles grazing over your face so gently that when he started his swift pounding it nearly gave you whiplash.

“You either beg me to touch you, or I won’t do it at all.” He warns you, his tone still deep as he grunts at the feeling of your walls clenching around his pulsing cock. His hands move to the floor to hold him up, waiting for your whiney begs to soon hit his eardrums.

You didn't want to beg him after his little stunt, but you had no choice. “Please, please Michael, please touch me.” You gasp and cry out to him, your head lulling back to the dark voided ceiling above you, needing the feeling of his fingers on your clit as you near your impending orgasm. He obliges of course, fulfilling his earlier words and rubbing rapid circles onto the neglected little ball of nerves.

His moaning and grunting was much louder now, somehow managing to drown out the noise of his skin slapping into yours. His breaths had too become heavier, his face growing paler and his thin red veins pulsing onto his perfectly countered cheek bones. His skin appeared as if it was cracking, flickering hollow red lighting onto his illuminated face. His face had become the lightest thing in the room, and yet still managed to be the most nightmarish.

You were on the edge now, watching Michaels anger and pleasure turn him not the ghastly demon before you. You felt your limbs start twitching and shaking. “Ahhh fuck, Michael!” You cried out at him. “I’m gonna cum around you so good, you’ll spill every last drop of your seed into me.” You giggled out your words, underestimating the carnality of Michaels reaction to them.

“Then I’d better make sure I’m deep enough into your greedy little cunt to fuck a baby into it huh?” Your words had now spurred him on to the point of fucking you so brutally it hurt, having somehow managed to pick up his already agonising pace. He leant down to your trembling lips, giving you one last reassuring kiss before he lost the little control he had left.

A fucked out haze fogged over your mind, legs falling numb with the shocks of pleasure emerging from your exploding core. You screamed out Michaels name over and over, letting it loose from your lips like you’d been holding it locked up inside your chest for an eternity. Your tingling skin grew wet as the blood and snakes around the both of you began to boil, as if your skin had set a flame under its bubbling surface.

“Fuck Y/N!” He watched your eyes pierce into his as you came, your tight walls squeezing and tensing around him until he had altered his movements. His quick pace nearly halting, he held onto your hips and rutted into you deep and languidly, filling you up with his sputtering seed. His eyes blew wide, as if they were two blackholes consuming the room around them and drawing you into their endless gravity pools. You could feel him stuttering inside you as he stared into your soul, mouth open slightly ajar and pouty lips shaking with the weight of his orgasm.

You knew you should have been terrified of him. The once expansive and flowing cuts down his arms had now healed completely, the only reminder of them ever existing being the multiple pints of blood he had left trailed from his ritual room to the kitchen floor, he’d painted your willing body with now the flaking crimson in mosaics. His face was enough to give a child cataclysmic nightmares for years to come, but yet there you were lying underneath him, admiring the way the red streaks on his skin showed more emotion that you could ever have put into words and how good his messy eyeshadow looked on his macabre face. The only thing that had ever truly frightened you about Michael Langdon was how madly in love with him you were.

His face fell back to its former glory, colour seeping onto his skin and bringing life back to his breathless face. His arms moved to rest near your face as he pulled out of you, the snakes that had once been slithering next to you having suddenly dissolved as if they were never there in the first place. Michael let his head fall, his long hair laying over your chest as he panted down onto you, staring up at your eyes as his own were flooded with an ocean like blue again.

You stared up at him, not a word having been said since he had shouted your name in the midst of his pleasure, it made you almost.. nervous? You’d never seen him take his anger out on you the way he just had. What was he thinking now he’d ‘decided to start his new world early’ in a fit of rage?

“Mikey?” You called out his endearing nickname timidly.

He changed the look on his face, a questioning expression obvious on his handsome features. You knew what that look meant, he was listening in on your thoughts. Something you’d asked him not to do many times before, but yet you were grateful for it in this moment.

He smiled up at you, chuckling in a little more of a domestic manner than his demonic voice had allowed him to before. You rolled your eyes at him and he kissed you again. It was the kind of gentle kiss that felt like it would linger on you afterwards for days.

“I honestly don’t know how I’m going to cope with a little demon running around the house.” You joked, earning another laugh from Michael. His fingers still covered in blood as he played with the bruised bites he’d left under your jaw.

“I think we’ll find out soon enough.”

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Thank you sm for reading!! likes nd reblogs are v appreciated:)💓

It was dark by the time you got back home from a day at work that had been decidedly too long and tedious. It paid the Bill's you said to yourself when you were close to calling it quits.

Stepping into your flat was like stepping into you own little sanctuary. It was home and it was devoid of any ringing phones, steep deadlines or your linemangager who always felt the need to share his shitty weekend plans in the hopes he'd get in your pants one day.

You wouldn't touch him with a 5-foot pole if he was the last man on earth and the past couple of months of the dry spell you had found yourself in after your relationship ended had brought you far too close to give in for some release in the sheets. Almost. He was pushing 50 and twice divorced.

You'd only moved into your new flat 3 months ago, after couchsurfing at your best friends for the better part of a month when your douchebag ex had decided he needed to fuck one of his bandmates in your bed. You knew the relationship wasn't going anywhere meaningful. It still stung like a bitch when you had caught them in the act. There was a special place in hell for cheaters. You felt your state of mind spiraling downward, as the images of Douchebag McGee balls deep in Lora came flooding back. You didn't love him, not like you felt you should've loved him and yet those images made your blood boil despite the time that had passed. Christ, you missed the sex. That was the only part of the relationship going somewhat well and it was mediocre at best. You really were touch starved, you  thought to yourself, shaking your head to chase away the images as you plopped your bag down on the kitchen counter.

You thought about how this day could end up some at least somewhat satisfactory and your eyes landed on the bottle of red  on the shelf that was still half full from the weekend. A glass of wine and a soak the bath might just be the perfect combo. You weren't hungry much anyway, having eaten a hearty late lunch after the client meeting today had overdrawn by a good hour.

Giddy at the prospect of easing your aching muscles and more than likely getting off in the tub to whatever your brain would conjure up in order to release all that built up tension, you grabbed a glass and the bottle from the shelf and headed straight for the bathroom, humming softly to yourself.

Had you bothered to look into the corner of the kitchen where that weird cold spot was that you couldn't get warm even with the heating on full blast or turned the lights on fully, you would've seen the tall dark figure that stood and watched, a smirk on full his lips as his hooded gaze followed your form out of the kitchen, appreciating the way your hips swayed in those black slacks you always wore to work. He'd liked them the first time he saw you put them on and yet he liked it even more when you took them off at night, baring that perfect ass in the lacy underwear to him, not knowing he was watching. He liked to think you wore them for him.

When you had moved into the apartment, he hadn't been too bothered at first, the last tenants had moved out over a year prior but soon enough  he welcomed your life force. Relished in it in fact. You became a welcome distraction and he soon found himself waiting for you when he wasn't wrecking havoc, reaping souls or making pacts with those who felt Satan could offer them material gains and power in exchange for their souls.

He found himself wondering if he should make you an offer and yet he didn't believe you to be type of person who took the easy way out which was partly a shame for him and yet he wanted to keep you around. While he found the scent of your soul highly addictive and wondered what it would taste like, he loved the smell of your arousal even more and he'd much rather get a taste of that. As soon as you had walked in, it had hit him like a ton of bricks. All that built-up sexual frustration you held onto, it made his mouth water. Maybe he could make you an offer of a different kind after all. Scratch both your itch and his.

His full lips stretched over his pearly whites, a knowing glint in his icy blue stare as he followed you, silent and unnoticed to the bathroom. He was waiting for just the right time to reveal himself to you tonight. The thought alone made him begin to grow hard against his pants and he made a mental list of all the things he would do to you, looming at the crack in the bathroom door. It wasn't like you could deny him. It was only a matter of how much you would struggle, how much restraint you'd show before he would take exactly what he wanted and give you what you deserved after being left high and dry for months. No, he couldn't let such a work of art, brimming with lust and depravity deep in your core, slip between his fingers any longer.

Blissfully unaware of the demonic presence that followed, you set your glass and the wine bottle down on the corner of the the tub as you plugged the bottom shut and opened the taps to let the bath fill up. Deciding that the bright fluorescent ceiling light was too bright,  you began to light the numerous candles you had placed on various surfaces around the room with the lighter out of one of the drawers. Next, you peeled off your clothing in front of the large sink mirror, giving Michael both an exquisite view of your front and back. He watched as you uncooked the lacy red bra, baring your breasts to him and stepping out of the equally red panties. Unclothed, your pent up arousal wafted through the air freely towards him through the crack in the door. His eyes fell shut as he inhaled deeply, his left hand coming to cup himself through his trousers, a low rumble leaving his chest at the sensation, drowned out only by the sound of the water gushing out the faucet.

Oh, he would defile you, he smiled to himself, watching as you stepped into the tub, a moan of your own passing over your lips at the warm caress as you sank to lay down fully in the now full tub. This was just what you had needed after the events of the day. You unscrewed the bottle cap after the some moments, pouring a generous swig into the glass and took a sip, your head falling back in appreciation as the wine laced your mouth. He watched as you twirled the glass by the stem in your delicate fingers, you eyes trained on the motion of the dark red liquid as it swished in gentle waves around the glass, lost in your thoughts.

When the door creaked open by invisible hands, your gaze shot up, water splashing around you, some of the wine spilling over the rim of the glass and trickling down your hand and wrist. A tiny squeak of surprise and terror hitched in your throat. Beyond the light flooding out into the dark hallway, you could make out a figure. You froze, watching in terror as a he emerged slowly from the darkness and into the dim candle light. You should've locked your doors, and you most certainly should've installed that security system that the landlord had offered at an exorbitant price. You were going to die, naked and alone in a bathtub, was all that ran through your head as you took in the intruder. Well shit, why have the crazy killers always have to be of the attractive sort, a tiny voice in the back your head dead panned as you took in him in, your body sunken beneath the water as far as you could go to preserve your modesty and making it so much easier for him to drown you. Your eyes followed as he came to stand beside the bathtub, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't look as much like a crazed serial killer and more like an elaborately dressed gentleman plucked from a bygone century. Great, this was going to be one of those fucked-up staged murders inspired by an even older murder they made documentaries on Netflix about.

As he came closer, you briefly wondered why you hadn't jumped out the tub and armed yourself with the bottle. Instead you just laid there. What was wrong with you?!

"Please, don't stop enjoying your glass of wine on my behalf, (Y/N)," he said, his voice like silk as it echoed of the tiles. A shot of arousal flooded into your core at the lilt of your name on his tongue. Well fuck, he's going to kill me and I'm thinking about his sultry bedroom voice. You didn't even question how in the hell he knew your name.

"A-are you going to murder me?" The last remaining brain cell that wasn't shell shocked or oddly aroused at the stranger looming over your bathtub, made you squeak out. He laughed then, shoulders heaving, his head tilted back slightly so you could catch glimpse of the strong column of his neck. Another wave of pleasure coursed through your veins, entranced by the sound of it.

"No, I'm not going to murder you. Drowning somebody isn't half as fun as it seems and rather boring," he offered nonchalantly, seemingly reading your mind.

"You're going to rape and then murder me?" God, why couldn't you just shut up and instead of engaging this maniac who had broken into your apartment and get out the fucking tub?! It was as if his leonine gaze held you in place, right where he wanted you.

"No," he chuckled, crouching down beside the bath and the sudden proximity made you flinch and press yourself against the tub walls even more. His right hand came to take the wine glass you were still holding over the water by shaky fingers, lifting it to his lips to inhale the heady aroma before taking a sip. You gasped at the sight as the liquid touched his lips, your jaw going slack as you watched the wine disappear behind them, utterly mesmerized in fear and awe. He was even more breathtaking up close. Maybe you should consider yourself lucky to be on his kill list. Ted Bundy had nothing on this man. Michael watched amused out the corner of his eye at the sight of you completely lost to his actions. Oh, this wasn't going to be nearly a hard as he had anticipated and so much more fun when you were already in the palm of his hand and he hadn't even tried.

“I'm here to offer you a deal,” he rumbled, icy blue eyes boring themselves into you (Y/E/C) ones.

“W-what deal?” you whispered, hanging off his wine stained lips, your mind utterly engrossed in his presence. You sat up, not caring that your chest was now above the water line. Michael' gazed dropped to your now exposed breasts, marveling at way your nipples pebbled at the frigid air.

“I'll scratch your itch, you'll scratch mine,” he mused, enjoying the way your chest heaved at the adrenaline and apparent lust coursing through our veins.

“What? What itch?” you asked, dumb-folded by his offer. Wordlessly, his fingers came to graze the hardened nipple of your left breast and you gasped, you hands flying out the water to cover your modesty. For a split second, you were conscious again.

“Oh please, (Y/N), don't play dumb. I've been greeted by the smell of your sexual frustration every single night for the past two weeks. It's torture, really. Let me give you want to you need and let me take what I want, it's simple,” he cooed, a smirk forming at the corners of his lips as he watched you regain some sort of self-awareness at his crude words, when moments earlier you were practically drooling at him.

“You've been in my flat for the past two weeks?!” you squealed, suddenly too aware of the bizarrness of this whole encounter. At your words, his hand grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.

“You are living in my domain, Angel. Don't get it twisted now,” he said and you were overcome by an all-encompassing sense of fear that gripped you by the base of the neck. A darkness flickered over his chiseled features then as he lent in closer, his lips nearly touching yours. You saw the shadows behind him rising up the tiled wall, taking the form of jutted wings and even though your conscious mind wouldn't believe what your eyes saw, that primal part within you saw him for what he was. A demon. He saw the spark of recognition cross your features and as quickly as the atmosphere had grown stifling, it dissipated. You simply sat, glued to the tub as he pushed himself off the edge in one fluid motion, shrugging off his jacket and his hands beginning undo the buttons of his black shirt.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you shrieked as he peeled of the shirt and unbuckled his belt before your eyes. He sighed at your words, cracking his neck impatiently.

“What that sweet little cunt of your yours is begging me to do, (Y/N),” he retorted and his words made you clench your thighs underwater, both in shame and the need to stifle the heat that had been building ever since he had made his presence known. Having discarded of his shirt, his fingers hooked in his trousers and he pulled them down past his narrow hips in one motion, baring the impressive length he carried. Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson that would rival the wine, now forgotten on the floor and you averted your eyes. This wasn't happening. This was a dream and you had fallen asleep in the tub and your mind was conjuring up a very weird, yet incredibly arousing sexual fantasy of your subconscious. Despite your efforts, you couldn't help but steal a glance as he bent down to take off his shoes and step out of the trousers pooled around his ankles. God, you really must be sex-starved when your brain felt the need to show you what you considered to be the perfect dick. 8 inches of rigid veined length, curved upward nearly touching his navel, a thick pink tip glistening with the barest hint of precum at the slit, seated in a neatly trimmed waft of blonde curls over a heavy set of balls. Feeling your gaze traveling over him, Michael grinned as he stood erect on the other side of the tub, one hand on his hip as he looked down at you.

“Scoot,” he commanded and without your consent, your legs moved on their own accord, vacating the space you had lent against moments earlier. He stepped into the warm water behind you you you curled your knees up to into your chest, woefully overwhelmed by what was happening. His legs slid alongside yours, his thighs squeezing your hips and butt as he seated himself fully behind you.

“Relax,” he said, pulling you by your shoulders and back into his chest. You leaned into him and the sensation of a warm body on your back made you sigh. Any form of cohesive thought had left your body at his command and the muscles of your chest and back relaxed against his broad chest, you legs sliding along the length of the tub. You felt his erection press against the small of your back and the heat that had begun to build, lapped at your arms and legs. Sensing your surrender, Michael's palms began to massage your sides gently, sliding up to cup your breasts and tweaking the pebbled mounds between the pads of his fingers. At his touch on your nipples you arched your neck into his shoulder, giving yourself over fully to what you believed to be a fever dream. His lips came to suck on the lobe of your ear, a low hum in his throat at the way you arched your chest into his touch. He should've revealed himself sooner, he thought as he pulled soft little moans from your lips. He slid one hand beneath the water's surface, tickling over your soft stomach and gliding between your thighs that you opened all to willingly. At the touch of his fingers to your clit, you gasped, tiny shock waves erupting over the bundle of nerves.  

“Fuck!” you cursed, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to rub slow circles over the nub.

“Oh, I'll fuck you soon enough, Angel. But first, you get to have some well- earned release,” he whispered, teeth still nibbling on your earlobe, his hot breath against your neck sending shivers down your spine and into your core. You raised your hands out the water above your head and threaded your fingers in his silky long locks, needing to hold onto something as his fingers were already working you towards your orgasm. With every press and circle of his fingers against the bundle of nerves between your legs and his other hand rolling your nipple between his fingertips, you felt your walls clench, thighs pressing his large hand against your mound, filthy little moans tumbling over your lips as he began to quicken his pace over your clit.

“Come for me, little one,” he urged you on, biting down hard on your earlobe, the mix of pain and pleasure enough to send you spiraling over the edge. With a breathless cry, you came on his fingers, arching your back into his shoulder and chest while your fingers tugged roughly at his hair as you rode out and orgasm you hadn't known was coming. You felt his lips leave open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck and before you could regain complete control over your limbs after your release, Michael pulled you onto your knees by your hips, pushing you forward, your hands detangling yourself from his hair to steady yourself against the foot end of the tub. Water sloshed over the side of the bath at the sudden change in position. You looked over your shoulder, pupils still blown wide as you watched him come up on his knees behind you, one hand gripping his impressive length at the base. Without so much as a warning, he aligned himself with your entrance, slick with both water and your arousal and sheathed himself in your wanting heat in one fluid motion. The intrusion made you gasp in surprise and pain, tears sprang into the corners of your eyes at having your cunt filled to the brim with his hard cock after such a long time. Your hands gripped the the edge of the tub, knuckles white as he leaned over to press his chest against your back. One large arm snaked around your front to hold you against him, while he lowered his lips over your shoulder to bite into your flesh not quite drawing blood. He groaned against your skin as he rolled his hips against your arse, bottoming out fully. You held onto the edge for dear life as he began to set a steady hard rhythm, grinding against you with every thrust of his cock into your weeping heat.

“Hmm, what a perfect little cunt you possess,” he groaned, fingers groping at your breasts, his other hand firmly digging into soft the flesh of your hips, sure to leave imprints. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as the tip of his cock brushed against your still sensitive walls, the pressure beginning to build again.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded his silken voice and full lips by your ear. His hand on your hip snaked up your spine to grip you by the throat, exerting just enough pressure to leave you gasping between his hold and his relentless drive in your soaking folds. You were already close by the way your walls began to flutter and he wanted you to come undone on his cock while he defiled your pretty little cunt. He watched with lustful hooded eyes as your right hand let go of the tub to touch yourself between your thighs. The feel of your body pressed tightly into his by his arm around your waist, your heartbeat thrumming beneath his fingers around your throat and the feel of your walls clenching around him nearly drove him delirious. You whimpered filthy little moans of ecstasy as you began to rub your clit, while your body was pushed forward on your knees as he pounded into your tight heat from behind, the bathroom floor soaked in the water spilling over the edge with every thrust of his hips.

“That's it, Angel,” he urged you own, his voice thick with lust as he watched your face contort in the sweetest of pleasures, brows furrowed as you chased your impending second orgasm. Between his voice, the heat of his body against your back and your added stimulation against your still oversensitive bundle of nerves, you came with a piercing shriek, coating him in your release and sending him over the edge to spill himself deep inside of you as your walls clenched deliciously around his cock.

A stray ray of morning sun flooded in through the cracks in your blinds, rousing you from a deep sleep. You opened your eyes, shielding them with the palm your hand. You must've had too much wine to drink last night, since you had no recollection of going to sleep after your bath. At the thought, images began to flood your still sleep-drunk mind and you shot up off the pillows. Suddenly wide awake, your eyes scanned the bedroom. No handsome demonic intruder. Disbelieving, you threw the covers of your body. You also didn't remember falling sleep naked. Your blood ran cold at the sight of the bruise against your hipbone. It was just a dream, your mind tried to reason away the purple hues that looked decidedly too much like the imprint of a large hand and throbbed as your gingerly touched the skin. Frantically, you looked around in an effort to explain the origin of the injury, the movement making you all to aware of how sore you were down there. Your eyes fell to a neatly folded note on your nightstand. You gulped and with a shaky hand, you picked up the note and unfolded it.

He dug in the cloth bag for the box of chalk, taking a piece out and walking to the center of the intersection. He kneeled on the pavement, focusing on the crossroads he was at mentally as he drew out the symbol illustrated in the spell book. He knew that Luke, Calum and himself had a great fit for their band, the only thing they were lacking in their balance was the right guitarist. He had a feeling that if they didn’t find another guitarist soon, and if this seventh guitarist wasn’t the missing piece they’d been searching for, the two younger boys may lose hope and give up. He maintained focus on his goal as he meticulously followed the instructions laid out in the book.

Everything completed he took a step back, eyes closed as he focused on what he needed. When he opened his eyes again, there was a cloaked figure in front of him, orange glowing eyes showing from beneath a hood. Ashton stood his ground, even with the lit candles flickering out, staring the orange eyes down as he waited for the crossroads demon to speak. Ashton thought he could make out a smirk on the demon’s lips as he sized up the eighteen year old in front of him.

“Was this just some dare from your friends or do you actually need me for something, kid?” The demon’s voice was low, almost bored.

Ashton squared his shoulders, standing up straighter and sticking his chin out, pushing down even the slightest bit of fear. “I truly believe my band has a good chance of making it in our field, we just are failing desperately at finding the right guitarist.”

The demon blinked, “You’re willing to sell your soul to a demon...for a guitarist. Not the success of the band, just the guitarist.”

Ashton nodded, sighing, “We’ve been through six guitarists in as many months. I’m here for the perfect guitarist for our band. The success will follow from that.”

“Are you sure about that?” the demon asked, fingers fiddling with the large sleeves of the cloak. “This is really what you want to sell your soul for, no little extra guarantee that it will actually work out on top of this guitarist?”

Ashton looked at the ground, silent for a moment, before looking up into the glowing eyes through his fringe, “It really is. I think my bandmates may give up if this next guitarist doesn’t work out, and I don’t want that to happen. Besides, if it had been one of their ideas, I would’ve made sure I was the one to do it. They don’t deserve that.”

“And you do?” The demon retorted, though his voice took on a concerned note.

Ashton paused, eyebrows pulling together before shaking his head. He reached his hand across the sigil he’d drawn in the road, “Do we have a deal?”

The demon took in Ashton’s unwavering position, his refusal to back down, convinced that this was the measure he had to take for his friends. “Deal.” The demon responded, grasping Ashton’s hand in his own. “Guitarist lucky number seven will be at your next rehearsal,” he stated before turning around and getting ready to disappear back into the darkness, “Can’t wait to see how this one turns out.” He muttered to himself.

Ashton gathered what remained of his ingredients, taking them to the car and grabbing his thermos full of water, rinsing the chalk off of the roadway before finally getting back in his car and going home.

~~~~~

Two days later Ashton was setting up his drum kit in Luke’s house. He was anxiously tightening a wing nut to a cymbal when the doorbell rang. Luke frowned, putting his guitar down and going to answer the door. Ashton could hear Luke talking to someone and hummed, continuing his set up. Soon Luke returned, another boy following behind him. “This is Michael,” the blonde started, getting both Ashton and Calum’s attention. “He told me that he heard from a friend that we were looking for another guitarist?”

Luke’s blue eyes were questioning, wondering if his other two bandmates had spoken to anyone about the recent opening. Calum looked just as confused as Luke and Ashton whirred through some excuse he could make up. “I uh, may have mentioned it to one of the people at the barbecue I went to after practice the other night. Didn’t think they’d actually know someone looking for a band though, guess I was wrong.”

Luke simply shrugged and nodded, turning back to Michael, still hanging behind him. Ashton caught the guitarist’s eye and...did he just wink at him? No, he had to have imagined it. Michael’s brown hair fell in his face and he crouched on the floor, pulling his guitar out of the case and tuning it, knowing that the band would need to hear him play before anything was decided.

Ashton finished setting up his kit and took a seat in front of the Hemmings’ Christmas tree. Calum was on one side of him, fidgeting with the shoulders of his tank top, Luke on the other looking at Michael. He’d pulled his guitar strap over his shoulder, guitar hanging on his back as he fidgeted with the strands of his hair before stepping up to Calum’s keyboard. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves before he started playing the opening notes to Nightmare by Avenged Sevenfold. He swung his guitar around and began to play. He leaned into the microphone and began singing the lyrics as well and Ashton thought he caught another furtive glance and a smirk from him. 

Luke got to his feet halfway through the song, stopping Michael. “Dude, if you can get along with the three of us as well as you can play guitar, I’d say you’re in. What do you guys think?”

Calum spoke up from his spot, “Yeah, hang out with us some after practice today and same at the next and if we’re all getting along, I’d say it’s going to work out.”

Ashton simply nodded his agreement with the other two boys and got to his feet, going to settle behind his drum set, ready to start practice. Michael was beaming as he moved to the other side of the living room stage, looking at the tabs Luke was showing him for one of the original songs that he wanted to work on today.

~~~~~~~

Michael blended into the group with ease, Ashton and Calum welcoming him in before the first rehearsal with the new guitarist was even over. Ashton brushed off his apprehension about the looks that Michael had been giving him, he was a nice guy and there was no way he could know about the deal the drummer had made. By his third rehearsal, Michael had come up with a name for the group, the other three boys having been struggling with that for a long time, especially with the more pressing issue of keeping a guitarist on the forefront of their minds. 

Soon, 5 Seconds of Summer were posting more videos to Luke’s youtube channel and playing more local shows. With Michael fitting in so well with the group they were now working harder than ever before. After a few months, they finally got a call from a label. They worked out the details with their parents and began touring around the country, and then across the world. 

The years went on and the band’s success continued to grow, multiple albums debuting at number 1 and playing larger and larger venues. During one tour Ashton dyed his hair black, posting a picture in front of a window, captioning it “feeling like a demon again.” Michael was in another room, and he let out a low chuckle when he read the caption, double tapping the photo and carrying on.

It was coming up on ten years since Michael joined the band, ten years since Ashton made a deal with the crossroads demon. He wasn’t really in the mood to celebrate his 28th birthday when it came along, knowing in five months, he would no longer be himself, if he was even still here. They finished recording their sixth album and Ashton went back to Australia for a month, spending time with his family. When he got back to LA in mid-September he began pulling away from his friends, only responding to band related texts immediately, sometimes taking three days to reply to even Calum when he tried to check in. He tried to say that he was working on a second solo album during the lull before they had to start promoting the new record, but he knew that would only hold them off for so long.

By October Ashton’s nightmares of the orange-eyed demon he’d been having from time to time since they met were now nightly. The first week of November he just gave up on sleeping entirely, throat raw from waking up screaming as the cloaked demon dragged him out of bed and down through his bedroom floor into darkness. 

At the end of the week without sleep, Ashton once again found himself spending the whole day sitting on his couch, staring intently at a blank page of his journal. The room grew dark around him as the sun sank in the sky. The last few golden rays travelled through the windows when he recognized the sound of Michael knocking on his door. Before he could get up or even respond to the sound, the door opened, Michael walking straight in. Ashton wearily raised his head, looking at his friend standing in the doorway to the living room. “You look soulless.” Michael said, “Trust me, I would know.”

Ashton shook his head, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning his head on his hands. “What do you need Mike?”

“I know why you’ve been avoiding us, pushing everyone away.”

Ashton let out a dark chuckle. “Sure. Take a guess.” He muttered, keeping his head down.

Michael stepped further into the room, boot stomping on the hardwood. “Ashton. Look at me.”

There was something different to Michael’s voice, and Ashton found himself unable to disobey. He sat up, turning to look at the blonde and gasped. The same glowing orange eyes that had been haunting his nightmares were staring straight at him, coming from Michael’s face. Ashton scrambled backwards until his back was against the far arm of the sofa, the guitar that had been next to him dropping to the floor. Michael frowned, stepping forward, picking up the instrument from the ground, checking it and carefully beginning to tune it again while Ashton searched for words. 

“Y-you!” He choked out, “Get out of Michael!”

The demon sighed, eyes fading back to green as he fiddled with the guitar. He snapped his fingers, turning on some lamps. “Ashton,” he said, voice soft, “I’ve been Michael the whole time, from before you came forth to make the deal to now.”

Ashton shook his head, “So I wasn’t being paranoid about the looks you were giving me when you tried out for the band.”

Michael chuckled, nodding. “I was sort of hoping you’d notice much sooner. I was just drawn in by your confidence that all you needed was a guitarist. And you were right.”

Ashton was still pressed against the arm of the sofa, so Michael stayed where he was, tenderly cradling Ashton’s guitar, letting him set his boundaries, letting him figure out how he felt. Finally, Ashton shifted, actually looking at Michael, no longer pinning himself to the end of the couch. When he spoke, his voice was raw, “It’s just...god, Michael. I’ve trusted you with things I wouldn’t tell anyone else. I’ve been vulnerable with you...I--I’m in fucking love with you.” Ashton’s scoff turned into a disbelieving laugh. “I would fall in love with a demon, makes so much more sense now.”

“Hey now,” Michael said, voice soft as he moved to sit next to Ashton, hand resting on the drummer’s thigh. Ashton didn’t pull away and Michael carried on, “I gave up my original job out of curiosity after we met. The past ten years I’ve spent with you...and the band...I’ve been closer to my old mortal life, old feelings, than I have been in centuries.”

“What do you mean?” Ashton asked, hazel eyes meeting green.

“I mean, I wasn’t always a crossroads demon, if that’s what you’re asking. In my old life I was a travelling minstrel, and one day, I performed the same ceremony you did, summoned the demon who would be my master in order to make a deal.”

Ashton tilted his head, understanding crashing over him and he nodded, curls bouncing. “Did you make the deal you expected me to make? Asking for success and fame?”

Michael chuckled, “No, Ashton, I assumed that’s where you were going because I’ve been a crossroads demon for four hundred years. The number of times I’ve heard that request in the past fifty years alone...it’s not a hard assumption to make.” 

Ashton nodded, quietly waiting to hear Michael’s story. Michael hummed, leaning back into the couch as he began. “It was a festival, celebrating the arrival of spring. We were playing in the market square and a boy caught my eye. I later learned he was the son of the lord and lady of that region and doubted I had much chance. But I had to have him. So, that night, I made a deal and within the next fortnight, I was a regular in his bed. 

His parents knew nothing of the matter and within two years he was married to the daughter of some duchess, but we had an understanding with her. She had little interest in lying with her husband anyway, her heart laid with one of the maids who helped her dress.

Much too soon my time came and I became a demon. I stopped aging, learned my trade, and began my work. I still spent nights with my beloved, but he continued aging, and soon, at least to me, it became clear that he couldn’t keep up with me anymore. I held his hand as he crossed over. He and his wife never had children, even for the sake of appearances, and so their line ended with their deaths. He chose to be reborn, I check in on him once every century, but I always miss when he would be my apparent age. The two times that I caught him in his later years, his soul recognized me for who I was and we had long talks when I came by, but nothing more.”

Ashton stared, nodding as he listened to Michael’s century’s old tale, of who he had been before Ashton was even a thought. “H-have you found him in this century?” He voiced.

Michael chuckled, “Yes, I have. As much as you remind me of him, you aren’t him. No, he’s the man you’ve known as my dad the past few years. Hate that I had to put that sort of spell on him, but I needed a cover. But, like I said, my timing has been off, probably the curse of being a demon, can’t keep up with the man I loved.”

Ashton nodded slowly. “But you know why I can’t tell anyone why I’ve been pulling away. Luke and Calum wouldn’t understand. I...I don’t want to hurt them.”

Michael hummed, pulling Ashton to rest on his chest. “I know, but I have a plan. I’ll get us both out of this. But first you need to get some sleep.”

Ashton wanted to protest, to explain his nightmares, but the warmth of Michael’s body and the song beginning to fill his ears were making his limbs heavy, eyelids drooping.

~~~~~~

Ashton awoke in his dark room, feeling more rested than he had in months. He was dimly aware of the other body in his bed, but opted to continue to lay still, see if sleep would claim him again, unsure how long he had been out. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Michael murmured, shifting to face Ashton.

Ashton didn’t jump, he wasn’t as foggy as he would normally expect upon waking up. He still remembered his conversation with Michael before he’d fallen asleep, and he still felt comforted by Michael’s presence, despite now knowing the truth. “How long was I out?” He hummed, turning to look at Michael’s silhouette.

Michael shifted, picking up his phone to check the time. “So it was like almost 7pm when you fell asleep the other night, then all of yesterday, I cleaned up the house by the way, and now it’s 5am the next day. Thought you were gonna wake up a few times during the day, but you just rolled over after mumbling something.”

Ashton blinked as he tried to take that in. He didn’t think that he’d ever slept that long, even at his most jet-lagged or exhausted following a long tour. “Makes sense, it’s been so long since I’ve gotten any sleep, since I’ve slept without any nightmares.”

Michael nodded, tentatively reaching out. Ashton moved closer, letting Michael place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Looked up tickets, got us a flight home tomorrow afternoon, figured you’d be awake by then. Do you wanna get Luke and Calum together for lunch or dinner today and just have a boy’s night, have a heart to heart?”

“But we can’t really tell them all of it, can we?”

“Up to you, I don’t mind them knowing, my plan includes shrugging off my old job, getting rid of these guys.”

Even knowing the truth, the sight of Michael’s glowing orange eyes still made Ashton flinch. “Let’s just plan getting together today, and decide what we’re going to tell them when we get there. I’m going to go do some yoga, stretch out after being in bed so long.” Ashton got out of bed after Michael nodded, stretching out his back as he walked around the bed. “How about dinner? Then we can come back here and talk more.”

Michael agreed, “I’ll send them a text later to get everything planned, doubt they’d appreciate a 5am text.”

~~~~~~

Ashton ended up deciding against telling Luke and Calum the full story, since it sounded like Michael was planning on no longer being a demon by the end of the week, and he still wasn’t sure he wanted to explain how Michael had really become part of the band, by Ashton making a deal with the demon. They’d been nothing but supportive, reminding him that they’re always there if he needs to talk. Michael was sitting next to him, occasionally giving him gentle touches and reassuring looks as he explained some of what he’d been going through. 

Ashton slept the whole flight back to Australia the next day, only waking during a spot of turbulence to find Michael had rested his head on Ashton’s shoulder, also asleep. Once they’d landed, Michael rented a car and they went to get dinner before checking into the hotel. “Let’s get some rest,” Michael said after he set his bag down, taking a seat on the bed. “Then tomorrow night we’ll go back to where we first met and get this reversed, neither of us will have anything to worry about anymore.”

Ashton nodded, and both men took turns getting ready for bed. There were two beds in the room, but Ashton looked over at Michael anxiously. “Can I sleep next to you? I...I don’t want to be alone in a bed again.”

Michael nodded and Ashton flipped off the lamp by the bed he’d originally claimed, crawling in next to Michael. He moved close to him, scared to be touching him, still not entirely sure where they stood. Michael however, closed the distance after he turned off the lamp, pressing his body closer and throwing an arm over Ashton’s shoulder.

The pair slept soundly through the night, spending the day laying low, having lunch and dinner out at quieter local cafes. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, full moon rising higher in the sky, Michael drove out to the crossroads where Ashton had summoned him just a month shy of ten years ago. He pulled over, reaching into the backseat for the bag he’d brought with him. Ashton followed him to the center of the intersection, watching as Michael began the summoning ceremony Ashton had followed, but in reverse order. The asphalt swallowed up the ingredients as Michael threw them down, the demon chanting in an ancient language as he circled the ground. He traced glowing orange runes into the road. 

Once there was a glowing circle surrounding the runes, Michael stepped back, arms open wide as he continued chanting, Ashton hesitantly stepping forward to stand at his side. Michael fell silent as before them appeared a figure far more terrifying than anything Ashton’s nightmares had conjured. Ashton was petrified, rooted to the spot. Michael gave him a glance before looking back at the entity before them. “Hey Cain, been a minute. Could you do human form, for the sake of my best friend here?”

The figure began to shrink, swirling shadows of dark fog turning to flesh and animal skin clothing, terrifying features morphing to human. “Cain?” Ashton squeaked, “Like Cain and Abel, Cain? Like…”

Michael simply nodded, “Told him about 150 years ago that he owed me a massive favor, now I’m cashing in.”

Cain snorted, now fully human, leaning on a wooden club. “I have existed for millenia, young minstrel, that may as well have been yesterday.”

Michael simply rolled his eyes, carrying on. “Look, you owe me big time and that’s what matters. Ash owes me his soul and his day is coming up, but I don’t want it anymore. I’ve spent the last ten years with Ashton and our bandmates and I’ve been more in touch with my mortal side than I’ve been since my beloved died the first time. After watching him die that first time, and then several times after that, I’m done. I have a new love and I can’t go through that again, watch him age and die. And none of that redemption myth stuff that goes around. I want to be mortal, I want to grow old for the first time in my entire existence, and I want to do that with Ashton.”

Ashton blinked, staring at Michael before he turned to look at Cain, who was deep in thought over Michael’s request. “That definitely is well within your right to request, and fills my debt to you without leaving you in debt to me...well thought out, minstrel.”

Michael’s face remained neutral and Cain held his hands out on either side of him. In his right hand, a scroll with what Ashton recognized as his signature at the bottom, in his left, a glowing ball of light. Cain released the ball of light, which began to float toward Michael as the scroll tore in two and burst into flame. “The deal is complete.” Cain stated, disappearing into shadow as the ball of light reached Michael, floating into his chest.

As soon as the light touched Michael’s chest, he collapsed onto the pavement, Ashton gasping and rushing to his side. Shadows poured from Michael’s eyes, nose, mouth and ears, sinking into the ground. Ashton crouched on the road, holding Michael’s head in his lap as the last of the shadows trickled out and faded away. The blonde’s eyelids slowly fluttered, finally blinking open fully. Ashton stared down at him, an extra glimmer of life showing in Michael’s green eyes that Ashton didn’t think he’d ever seen before. “Ash,” Michael croaked, trying to push himself up, but Ashton firmly pushed his shoulders back down.

“You just got blasted back by that bright thing, you need to chill for a moment.” He stated, hands staying on Michael’s shoulders.

Michael remained still, smiling up at Ashton. “It was my soul, my original soul, the one I signed over,” Michael whispered, “I can feel it.” He paused, then his eyes widened, “Do I look fucking ancient now?” He gasped.

Ashton chuckled, shaking his head, “No, you look like Michael, the same Michael I’ve known for the past ten years, just a little more soul behind your eyes.”

Michael rolled his eyes at the joke before looking up at the stars. “I meant it, when I said I wanted to grow old with you.”

“I know. I do too, I’m glad we have that option now.”

Michael smiled and they sat there quietly until Ashton felt that Michael had recovered, finally getting to their feet and driving back to the hotel. They spent the rest of the week in Australia, Cain’s deal hadn’t undone Michael’s spell on his parents, and both he and Ashton were glad of that, visiting with both their families while they were there. 

Once they were back in LA, Michael began moving his things into Ashton’s house. They had dinner with Luke and Calum, and the other two men could tell that something had changed between their friends, but didn’t push it. They knew that they’d be told when Michael and Ashton were ready.

Months later, Michael and Ashton were in their garden, sitting around the fire pit. They’d told Calum and Luke about their relationship at New Years, to which Luke yelled “Finally!” They’d all laughed and hugged before staring into the sky as fireworks exploded across the city, well ahead of midnight. 

Tonight was the last night of peace before they were set to go back into the studio. Ashton cuddled closer to Michael on the bench, lazily poking at the burning logs with the hook. “Y’know,” he whispered, “I feel like, if we were both human the whole time we’ve known each other, I’d still offer you my soul.”

Michael glanced at him, green eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Ashton giggled, dropping the metal rod to the grass and leaning up and giving Michael a kiss.

“Like in the I’m totally in love with you way, you worry wart.” He said. “I trust you with my heart and every bit of my being. I know that you won’t hurt me.”

Michael hummed, smiling at Ashton, watching the flames dance in his hazel eyes. “You know what?” He said after a couple of minutes, “I’d give you my soul too.” Michael tore his gaze from Ashton for a moment, sticking his skewer into the flames, watching the marshmallow goo that was still stuck to the metal blacken and drip into the fire. “Feels a lot better this way.” He observed, “With my first love I signed over my soul to get it, but to you, I’d give it freely.”

“That’s how it’s supposed to be.” Ashton whispered.

Michael nodded, dipping his head for another kiss. “I love you Ashton Irwin.”

“And I you, Michael Clifford.”

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The first decade, the coven had their own struggles. There’d been enough times when hunters had nearly decimated them all because there was word about two demons in the midst of witches. 

It was the first time Roe had ever invoked sacrificial protection for the betterment of her coven, and the guilt had weighed heavy on her for years afterwards. 

True to her father's word, Calum and Luke had remained with the coven, an added layer of protection as they continued with their lives. They acted as liaison, to reap the souls that were not willing to pay their debts, the ones that Michael and Ashton had no time to seek and collect. 

Ashton and Michael traversed through often enough, finally becoming comfortable enough with Marcella and Roe to let their guards down with them. 

Gem had wormed her way into their hearts too, the elder witch having accepted them with ease. More often than not, there would be a point in the week where any of the four demons would sit talking with her, asking about her knowledge, her life. 

A witch's knowledge was sacred, it taught the new generations of the Old Magicks, curses and spells. It taught them how to defend, to care for. But these stories Gem told the four demons, taught them how to open a side of them that they’d believed they’d lost the day they’d sold themselves to the King. 

Ashton sat with Gem on such an occasion, his eyes studying the way her fingers tapped the porcelain cup. 

“Your time is coming, you realise?” Her voice was quiet, Ashton could only nod. “She’ll fight it. She’s a stubborn witch.”

“It’s her right to rule. I know his predecessor was murdered, but he knows that he wants his kingdom in good hands. If it wasn’t for the fact that Calum finalised the bond with her, he’d have snatched Roe years ago.” Gem sighed as she finished her tea, her eyes searching the tea leaves. 

“They just read change every damn time.” 

Ashton looked up from his own cup, staring at Gem in shock at the frustrated tone that had left her lips. 

Over the last decade, he’d only heard her raise her voice a handful of times. Each one was warranted, but he still knew that the normally calm witch only showed the frustrations when things were going south. 

“Gem?” Old eyes met his and he could see the years of experience and the years of loss as a lone tear escaped. 

“I can’t make heads or tails of what’s going to happen, Ashton. Too much needs to be decided and she will fight it, every step of the way.” 

He sighed as he set his cup down, nodding his head before letting his fingers push through his black curls. That change had come a few years previous when Roe had made a passing comment to the demon when he’d shown up with a mild disguise on. She’d told him that black hair certainly looked better on him and so he’d decided that he needed a change and the black hair became permanent.

“He’s expecting her to rebel. He doesn’t want to put too much pressure on Calum, knowing she’ll readily destroy herself to protect him from the Kings plans.” 

“So he’s putting the pressure on you?” 

“Yes and no. My jobs are no different, but I’m feeling the pressure of doing what needs to be done. He doesn’t accept failure.” Carefully, his fingers peeled up his shirt sleeve and Gem gasped in shock at the darkened welts on his skin. 

“He didn’t.” The older witch breathed, her eye unable to tear them from him.

“You can not heal them, Gem.” He warned as her fingers reached out, touching the delicate skin. 

“Watch me.” She snapped back in return, eyes refocusing before the spell left her lips. 

He watched in amazement as the skin on his arm knitted itself back together, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. 

“He dares go for you again, tell him to start a fight with me.” The older witch snapped. And Ashton couldn’t help but smile as his fingers reached out, squeezing her arm gently. 

“I’d look forward to the day where I see a demon, and the king of hell no less, get forced to submit to a witch.” Ashton murmured, earning a smirk from Gem.

“Where do you think our Roe learned it from?” Her words made him chuckle as a knock on the door interrupted them. Michael’s head stuck around the corner and Ashton tensed.

“We need to go. There’s unrest. An Angel appeared.” Ashton was on his feet swiftly, but bowed shortly to Gem before following Michael out. Gem chuckled.

For all his posturing, his upbringing was one he never seemed to let go of once he realised that he had a safety net in the house.

Following Michael outside, they made the journey through the shadows, landing not far from the ostentatious palace where the King held court. His actual home was elsewhere, along with the offices that he used to keep things in check, but the palace was one to be used as a decoy. Ashton was certain that only six others, including himself, knew where the King lived and four of them lived above in the human realm. 

“What’s going on?” His voice carried as he stepped through. Demons fell silent, their resentful eyes staring at the two as they strode through. 

That had been another downside to stepping up. Demons who were ambitious often killed their competitors. However, the King had made himself clear over the last decade. Anyone who touched Ashton or Michael, paid the price. 

“The Angel bitch appeared out of nowhere, sir.” One of the younger demons commented, the sneer firm on his lips. Ashton held back his sigh of annoyance.

“Someone with a fucking brain cell, tell me what happened?” He snapped out and murmurs slipped through the gathered crowd before they parted. Ashton felt his heart tremble as the beaten and bloody body of the angel lay crumpled in a heap, the wings out and almost shredded with claws.

Michael scoffed as he made his way over.

“Who dragged the angel down here?” Ashton’s mind was frozen as Michael tilted the angel onto their back and memories from his human life hit him hard as the face fitted itself into his memories.

“She just appeared on the floor. No one dragged the bitch.” The first demon spoke and Ashton’s hand snapped out, his fingers closing slowly into a fist until he heard the demon gasp and struggle for air.

“You might think that they are our mortal enemies thanks to Belize, but trust me when I say working relationships exist between Heaven and Hell. Continue to call them a bitch and watch what happens. And for your troubles, they are a they, not a she.” He snapped, his fingers releasing and the demon struggled for air, his heaving breaths giving Ashton a vindictive satisfaction. 

Their body was limp, but Ashton could hear the shallow, rattling breaths escape their lips, and he knew he needed to act to save their life.

With a jolt, he realised things were different compared to the last time that he saw them. And he felt like he was in some sort of cliche moment as he carefully picked up the angel, ignoring how the jolt slid down his arms when his fingers brushed their skin.

“Michael, inform his highness what has happened and clean up.” Ashton instructed and Michael nodded, turning around to kick the other demons from the palace. Ashton waited for a moment before he disappeared and he knew that he needed somewhere safe for the angel.

The sun hit his skin as he arrived, glancing up to the house before whistling loudly.

Calum came barrelling out first, followed by Marcella and then Gem. 

“Ashton?” Calum’s eyes questioned the being in his arms, but he shook his head.

“They’re an angel, I can’t give them treatment below, it’ll kill them. I wouldn’t normally ask, but they-”

“They’re important to you.” Gem murmured as Marcella murmured a few spells and her face dropped.

“Get inside, use the room that you left Luke and I in.” She instructed and Ashton followed behind Gem who guided the two of them whilst Marcella yelled for other witches.

They came down at their calls, a couple scowling as they spotted Ashton, but he paid them no mind as he settled the angel on the bed, his fingers brushing the shoddily cropped hair with a sigh.

“What did they do to you?” He whispered before stepping back when Marcella returned with Roe in tow.

“Ashton?” Her tone was gentle as she held her hand out to him and he turned away from the angel, ignoring the stretched out hand before leaving the house, his own magic itching as he settled outside. He knew things were going to change and he knew he couldn’t leave.

“Fuck.” He lay out on the grass, arm over his eyes as he tried to keep his frustration from exploding outwards.

It was silent apart from the mutterings coming from within the house. Then a door closed and he growled in a warning.

“Pack it in.” Gem snapped as she sat herself next to him, his arm moving to see the older witch sat with an air of regality on the grass. He immediately felt bad, knowing the older witch sometimes struggled to move with ease.

“Had I known I would’ve been followed, I’d have stood.” He muttered and Gem snorted.

“Or you would’ve just disappeared.” She countered and he grimaced as his arm dropped from his face, sitting up to face Gem.

“I can’t.” He whispered and she stared at him hard. It felt like she was examining his soul, or what was left of it. And he looked away.

“There’s a bond, isn’t there?” Ashton knew that she knew the answer, but was still demanding him to vocalise it. And had it been anyone else, he’d have told them to fuck off.

But it was Gem. The witch who healed him despite the Kings deliberate mutilation to remind him of his place. The witch who reminded him of his humanity, who helped him find those memories from so long ago. 

“Yes.” He finally whispered. 

They sat there in silence before a blast of magic washed over the two of them and Ashton scrambled to his feet before helping Gem up. She smiled gently at him, patting his hand before following him through. 

“Fucking angels.” Sapphire muttered as she left the room, rubbing a spot on her arm. Ashton snarled at her which made her pale before glancing to Gem and hurrying away. 

“Peace, Ashton. It’s because the angel's version of magic is so very different.” Gem soothed the agitated demon. But it didn’t settle him until he entered the room and saw them laying more settled in the bed, their face free from the marks that had stunned him the first time around.

“Fucking angelic magic thinking it’s better than ours.” Roe muttered as she helped up Marcella who sighed.

“Don’t forget, our magic is tainted by our mates. Is it any wonder their magic reacted so violently?” Marcella chided and Roe stuck her tongue out before she spotted Ashton.

“You couldn’t have bonded to a human or a faerie, or even a bloody werewolf! You had to go and bond to a fucking angel.” He knew she was teasing, but his body tensed. Sensing the change in his mood, Roe held her hands up in a surrender position.

“How are they?” 

“You need to find out what happened to them for me to fully heal them. We’ve got the superficial damage fixed, but there are curses locked in that I can’t touch until I know the origin. Ashton, how did you come by this angel?” Marcella’s tone was curious and he sighed as he took a seat next to the bed, feeling his chest ease now he was in proximity to them.

“They had been dumped on the floor of the palace. Which reminds me, Roe, you’ll have to start the transition soon before the younger demons start to revolt. The elders refuse to teach the little bastards.” Roe sighed.

“I just need to figure shit out first, but it’ll happen. Calum managed to finally convince me.” She muttered and he smiled gratefully at her.

“Go and rest, I’ll watch over them for now.” Roe left but Marcella hesitated. 

“I’ll be fine.” He murmured and she shook her head.

“They weren’t in the best condition and we don’t know if our magic has aggravated it. The best thing you can do is make sure they’re comfortable so their own magic can help their body.” she instructed calmly before passing him a cloth. “If you notice a fever, use this to cool them down, it’s imbued with cooling charms to help so you don’t have to leave their side. Call for me when they wake up and I can get a better diagnosis.” Without another word, Marcella left, the door closing behind her.

He knew that both of them would’ve returned to their mates. The magic was enough that they would be tired. 

The door opened once more and Gem stepped in, two cups of tea floating beside her as she sat on the chair which resided on the other side of the bed.

Ashton didn’t question her as the second cup of tea floated to his side. 

“We might as well continue our little chat, especially since our Roe has seemingly made a decision.” Gem commented quietly and Ashton smiled at the older witch, his hands clasping the cup. 

“I guess we should. Do you think that Roe is truly ready to work the compromise so that she can run the coven whilst keeping an eye on Hell?” Ashton’s words were curious and Gem smiled.

“She’s ruled long enough with an iron fist with this coven. They won’t know what to expect with her, one because she’s female but two because she has witches blood and she’s not afraid to exploit that for her own personal gains. I think she’ll make a fantastic Queen, and with Calum ruling by her side, the younger demons will quickly realise that the hierarchy exists for a reason.”

—

When they woke up with a gasp, Ashton was there, his eyes haunted yet considerate. 

“You’re safe.” He murmured and their eyes were confused, the tiredness evident as he studied them. 

“Ashton? But, you died centuries ago.” Their tone was suspicious despite the confusion. A wry smile appeared on his lips at their words. 

“It’s what you get for falling in love with an angel.” He murmured, his eyes darkening. The hazel deepened before it fully transitioned to black and understanding dawned on the angel’s face. 

“Demon.” They murmured softly and he nodded. 

“You were dropped in the palace and left for dead. What happened?” The grimace told a lot more than he expected, but they seemed to weigh up the options before sighing. 

“When word got out, about us, mercenaries were sent after you.” 

“I remember. They’re the reason I became what I am.” His tone was dry and they shot him an apologetic look. 

“They didn’t expect you to fight back, but I warned them. I warned them that you were of noble blood and had been raised to know how to fight. They watched me for a century after that. I couldn’t function. You’d died and my heart had gone.” 

His heart clenched and stopped himself from reaching out to them, to offer a form of comfort. 

“Were they watching to make sure you didn’t do something drastic?” They snorted.

“I was the angel who fell in love with a human. They refuted my claims of soulmate because angels only mate with other angels.” The scorn dripping from their tone surprised Ashton. As memories began to slot into place, he remembered bits and pieces. 

“Did he forbid it?” And they shook their head, choppy hair falling into their eyes. A trembling hand moved to grasp it and Ashton watched as tears filled their eyes. 

He silently realised that the change in hairstyle was not a personal choice on their part.

“He would’ve blessed it had he known. Had I not hidden it from him. He had me helping the lost souls, as a penance but also because I understood. Then Ariale, he tried so hard, but I couldn’t move on from you. He got angry, bitter.” Ashton closed his eyes. 

“And then I appeared in the human realm, didn’t I?”

“They weren’t sure it was you until this year. Word spread that you had climbed the ranks but no one knew how much. I was forbidden.”

“You were my mate in my human life and they wouldn’t risk the bond carrying over to this life.” Ashton figures out the unspoken words. Tears were in their eyes as they took in a trembling breath. 

“Ariale demanded judgement. That was when I learned one of his brothers-”

“Was the one that I killed as a human.” He closed his eyes, anger and frustration bubbling up. Ashton never felt violent towards Angels; he couldn’t after he started unlocking his human life. But the burning anger made him want to go to the high heavens and demand their own trials. 

“Yes. They demanded my judgement for your actions since I’d claimed you as my soulmate.” His heart sank. 

“Judgement deemed you guilty on behalf of my actions.”

“I begged with him, cried that it wasn’t fair. He told me the judgement had been made but he would not cast me from the heavens. He would send me to my mate. Ariale got hold of me first.” 

Ashton couldn’t hold back his snarl of anger. How dare they claim righteousness yet hurt one of their own in such a way? He was furious. 

“What did Ariale do?” His eyes held theirs and he watched as they winced as they moved. 

“You saw my wings. There are some curses embedded as well. I cannot complete our bond, it’ll kill both of us most likely or just me. He was a bitter angel about me not moving on.” Ashton could only silently promise to end this bitter Angel's life if ever he crossed paths with him. 

“I brought you to a coven of witches who, well a handful I consider friends. Roe is going to want to know the curses and Marcella won’t stand for your curse to prevent you completing the bond.” He held his hand out to them, resting it palm facing up on the bed. 

“Ashton-”

“No,” he interrupted, “we were denied when I was human. I refuse to let some fucking asshole of an angel ruin it for us now. You’re mine.” He surprised himself at the ferocity of his words, but the look of relief of their face spoke volumes for him. 

“Let me speak to the witches first. They need a fair idea of what to work with.” They finally whispered as they rested their hand in his. 

He didn’t hesitate to bring their knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to them. 

“Your will is mine. I’ll track them down and see what I can do. Rest for now, you’re safe.” He waited until they had settled back and fallen asleep. It was easy to track down Gem, and thankfully Roe and Marcella were with her. 

“They’ve woken up. We’ve spoken a little and they’re resting now but it was a bitter angel that imbued them with curses. One of the curses means we can never complete our bond without their death.” Gems eyes were sympathetic as Marcella gasped in anger. 

“Then I’ll find the damn curse and pick it apart piece by piece. They’re in safe hands. Now do you need a shoulder or do you need to vent?” He felt like he was being scolded by a mother hen, but he smiled at Marcella. 

“I’m going to put some brats in their place.” He caught exasperated yet fond looks before he disappeared and when he reappeared in the office’s, he knew he had his work cut out for him. 

Michael was waiting, a file in his hand. 

“Mallory is one of Torrid’s lackeys. She got her claws in but this one has brains. He’s been laying low until Roe’s coronation got announced. He hasn’t been sitting idle either.” Michael explained as Ashton took the file and glanced down. 

He scoffed. 

“Get the brats that keep defying me. Let them learn their lessons from the elder who won’t learn to adapt.” Ashton instructed as he made his way down the halls. Michael vanished as Ashton reached the interrogation rooms. 

“Sir.” The demon was a younger one in looks, but she’d been around about a century longer than Ashton. 

“Sal. He's still not giving up names?” She shook her head. 

“We caught one name. Talisia. I’ve got one of the older agents running her down now.” He nodded before snapping his fingers and chains wrapped themselves around the unwilling demon. The noise of protest was cut off by the chains tightening. 

Sal looked at Ashton with a raised eyebrow. 

“They’ve gotta learn.” He shrugged as he dragged the prisoner out, heading from the buildings to the pit that lay just outside of the palace. 

Demons began to curiously gather as he dragged the chained up demon through the streets. More gathered as he kicked the demon into the pit, the chains unwinding from the demon. 

Ashton held his stance, casual and collected. Michael pulled up on the other side as he felt Sal watch his back. 

“Someone who cannot change is someone to be made an example of.” He called over to the gathered demons. They fell silent. 

“This is just how he treats anyone who disagrees with him.” Mallory called to the crowd and a whisper of unrest rushed through the gathered. 

Ashton snorted. 

“We all knew a new Queen would be ruling. You are apart of the group that tried to murder her and one of her coven sisters ten years ago and escaped justice. The last ten years has been making sure that whilst you may disagree with a hybrid Queen, you can see she’s capable.” Ashton called out earning mutters of agreement. 

“She will be weak willed like the new brats that you recruit.” This time mutters from Michael’s group were loud and he turned in shock. “They are trying to fool you!” 

A laugh rang out from that side and a small female stepped forward, face in a vicious snarl. 

“You just called us weak willed brats did you not? You tried to brainwash us into believing that a new queen would be terrible but failed to mention you attempted to murder her long before we arrived.” She glanced up at Ashton who nodded. 

“If I was a merciful man, I’d let her roast you until you are nothing but dust. But I am not merciful and I am not a man.” Demons fell silent as his body shifted, cracks running through his skin as he snarled and the pits opened. 

Hell hounds rushed around their newest meal and wasted no time in tears pieces off, his screams echoing around until they faded to gurgles before falling silent.

“Take your quarrels with our new queen to the ones that have been trying to teach you the last decade. They will tell you what happened with her hybrid sister and what she did to the demon who tried to murder her mate.” He snarled before he disappeared back to the offices. 

Ashton knew that he was going to get complaints from the older lot, but he was in no mood to deal with petty demons who could not adapt to change. If they were going to rule efficiently, then they needed to learn to adapt efficiently.

He headed back up, trying to grip his temper, but he was walking back into a volatile situation. He was angry on his angel’s behalf, knowing that they were thrown because of him. 

It burned him that they were so wounded for so many years. 

He sought out Gem who was waiting, a cup of tea sat on the arm of the chair, expecting. 

“I’ve imbued the room in soundproof spells for you. Let it out, Ashton.” Her kind tone seemed to set off the temper and his anger flooded, skin cracking as he let out such a snarl that would’ve frightened any sensible witch.

Gem remained in place as he got up and paced, his hair crackling with power as his skin cracked further, blood red veins running down his face as he finally hurled the tea cup, the porcelain shattering against the wall.

Gem merely waved her hand and more pieces of fine china stacked themselves on the table closest to him and he threw every single piece, his fury and frustration reducing some of the pieces to nothing more than dust.

He was so angry that he couldn’t think straight, mind splintering. Part of him was stuck on the anger towards the underworld, the new demons that defied him as well as Roe. And the other part was stuck on his anger towards the high heavens for hurting his angel. His mate.

It took the better part of an hour before his anger finally began to recede enough that his skin returned to normal but it felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. The sensation was strange and he could feel moisture in his eyes and he finally understood as Gem stood up, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.

For the first time since he’d died, he was crying. 

It took longer than he’d thought, another forty minutes, before he stopped crying, the heavy breathing slowing down until his tears were gone and his chest wasn’t burning from trying to take in oxygen.

Gem had another cup of tea waiting and once he was sitting back in the armchair, she got down to business.

“Now that you’re less likely to murder one of my coven should they look at you wrong, are you ready to tell me what happened? Tell me about the defiant and I’ll tell you what we found with your Angel.”

This made Ashton pause before his eyes narrowed on the witch.

“You’d have made a better demon.” He finally muttered darkly, taking another sip of tea. She dimpled at him before sitting back and letting him take the lead of the conversation.

He told her about the defiant demons, what he did to the traitor they found. He didn’t hide the violence from Gem and she didn’t flinch away. He felt his chest feel strangely lighter and when he said so, she smirked. 

“You boys might think you’re soulless, but you’re not. You need to share the burdens that you all carry. It might not be a typical burden that weighs you down, I know that death means nothing to you. But the ones that have been defying you, it’s making you question your choices. That’s where your burden lies.” 

“Maybe a better therapist than demon.” He finally conceded and she laughed. 

“Would you like to know about the curses?” This had his immediate attention, tea long since abandoned.

“How did you figure it out?” 

“They used your blood. The curse is specifically tied to you. It’s a long forgotten curse that will burn them when you initiate the bond.” He felt his stomach turn. 

“But our bond initiates from touch does it not?” And Gem shook her head. 

“It’s different for you two. You’ve been bonded before but it broke with your death, correct?” He nodded. “You need to be physically intimate with them for the bond to reassert itself.” 

“Is there a counter?” Gem visibly brightened. 

“There is. The only problem is that we need to get a hold of a faerie. And they’re tricky little blighters that don’t do anything unless there’s something in it for them.” And Ashton could feel his hopes sink to the pit of his stomach. 

Faeries were notoriously tricky to deal with and unless there was something in the deal that benefitted them, they wouldn’t help. And he couldn’t see how a faerie would benefit from his mate being freed from the curse. 

“I’ll see if I can call in a favour. Faeries might be fickle, but they honour debts between magical races. Go see your angel and I’ll get in contact.” Gem ushered him from the room and with a sigh he made his way upstairs, his feet feeling like lead as he got closer to the room. 

As he pushed open the door and their face lit up upon seeing him, and despite the dashed hope, he felt warm and a sense of comfort as the heaviness lifted as he took a seat, his hand slipping into theirs. 

He could deal with this. 

—

Gem had put in many calls, but none were being answered. It was like they knew the favour she was going to ask. 

When Michael had shown up to check in, Ashton was yet to leave the angels' side, and so Gem caught him, making him pause.

“It’s better that he stays with them for now. I, however, need a perspective of a demon.” This pulled Michael up short. 

Although he wasn’t a frequent visitor with Gem, he didn’t realise that she was comfortable enough to ask a favour, or at least ask for his advice.

“I’m curious.” She snorted at his words and tilted her head to what had been dubbed as her sitting room. Michael followed quietly, his eyes glancing to the grand staircase before ducking into the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, making him raise an eyebrow as he took the offered seat.

“I wish I could use the term ‘curiosity killed the cat’, but you’d be quick to be a smartass back.” The older witch muttered. Michael grinned.

“Absolutely. So what do you need me for that you couldn’t drag one of my elusive brothers out for?” He sat back in the chair, his elbow leaning on the arm rest as his head rested against his fingers. Gem rolled her eyes.

“The Fae are notoriously fickle. I have favours to call in but I know they won’t do it without some kind of reward. How can I put it in a way that they’ll be helping another species without actually gaining something in return?” 

“Just promise you won’t murder them. Usually does the trick.” Gem stared at him, her lips parted in shock at his words and brash attitude that came with them. 

Only when his lips began to twitch did she realise he was teasing her.

“Michael!” Her tone was flustered as she set her cup down. 

He laughed. 

“When it comes to a demon, you do need to promise that you won’t kill them. I wasn’t necessarily joking but they’ll be more inclined to listen if they know that their life isn’t on the line.” Gem just sighed. 

“Any other wise ideas from you?” The dry tone made Michael snort.

“Just go with your standard offerings. They’re selfish creatures so if the gifts are for them along with the promise of their life, there’s going to be at least one who will answer your call.” 

Gem could see where Michael was coming from and for a moment she wondered if that would be enough to encourage the fae to listen to their requests.

“I’ll try them once more but if they don’t work, we’re going to need a different way to get their help because they’ve been ignoring all of my other offerings.” Gem commented to Michael quietly. This made the demon pause in his movements.

“This is for the Angel that’s Ashton’s mate, correct?” Gem nodded and he sighed. “Let me deal with them, then. That way, we’re being upfront that a demon is involved and they may just respond to the plea.” Gem looked stunned for a moment before a bright smile crossed her features.

“Thank you Michael.” 

“You’ve kept my brothers and I alive for the better part of a decade. Allowed us to reside in your home and still use that protection. It’s the least I can do for you. Where’s the fae mound?” 

The following morning, Michael strolled in with a smug grin on his lips, and then glanced back to the door.

Gem nearly dropped her tea as the being she had been so desperate for stepped into the house. She held an air about her that seemed to demand her attention, the dark braids hanging over one shoulder, her eyes staring at Gem as the older witch studied the darker skinned being that had finally taken up her offerings and she couldn’t stop herself as she grabbed the back of the chair for support.

“You know what’s expected, what we need?” 

“I do this as a favour to my mate.” Her words were smooth like honey and Gem felt her jaw dropped, staring at Michael in shock.

“Michael?” 

“She’s my mate. When they sensed my presence, they sent her to deal with me. Neither of us anticipated the bond, but we didn’t deny it either.” 

“And your council?” Gem asked hesitantly, curiosity tinging her tone. 

“They accept the bond but will not welcome me back. So I asked them for one last favour for myself and my mate.” Gem felt the relief flood through her veins as she stepped forward, clasping her hands around the faerie’s, ignoring the look of shock at her touch.

“I cannot begin to tell you how much this means, for all of us. These four demons, it was difficult at first a decade ago, but they’re family, and to see one hurting, it’s difficult for all of us now.”

Michael scoffed and Gem gave him a wry smile.

“They learned their lessons long ago, you know that. We will proceed with the ritual on the next full moon if that is acceptable for you?” She returned her attention to the faerie whom she had yet to let go of.

“Perfectly acceptable.” 

“Wonderful. What’s your name, dear?” 

The faerie seemed to hesitate, glancing to Michael first before offering the older witch a kind smile.

“They called me Adana.” 

-

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