𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 ❤︎

The Devil Wears A Suit And Tie | 💔⭐️

Note : So, I want to say that I am c!Quackity IRL, not a Quackity kin or anything, but I experience delusional attachments. I am him IRL. But, the reason this chapter is marked with "⭐️" is because its a bit more "special" because its actually based off of memories I have from being c!Quackity. Any reality checking in comments or anything like that will be immediately deleted. /srs /gen

- Yes the title is based off of the song "The Devil Wears A Suit And Tie" by Colter Wall

Point Of View : Third person, Quackity centered
Word Count : 1631 words

Content Warnings : Dissociation, slight dereality, manipulative relationships, gaslighting

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  His mind was empty, everything around him feeling quite fuzzy as he was drifting off into space. He didn't pay attention or care about how much time went by, he didn't even know, what was he even doing? He felt as if his own mind wouldn't even allow himself to think or move, he couldn't even process is surroundings, he didn't even feel like he existed at the moment.

  Did he exist? Was this real?
  He must be dreaming.

  Everything felt as if he was dreaming, and not as if he was dreaming at the moment. The feeling felt like trying to look back at a dream you don't have much memory of; everything hazy and only small important moments stick out, but still knowing that none of it was real. He didn't even understand who he was, his name was Alex Quackity, right? He knew that was his name, and who he's supposed to be. But he wasn't that, that wasn't him, everything in the vice's brain was swirling around as he couldnt help but go in and out of this horrible dissociation, his mind hardly even processing who he really was. He didn't even realize that someone had opened the door.
  Everything hurt but it was too dull to actually feel, he was supposed to be hurting, air feeling too thick to even breath in properly, knowing he was supposed to be feeling something, but not knowing what. His mind slipping closer and closer into an unconscious state, but still being conscious at the same time, he was processing everything and nothing. He felt like this was normal, as if life was supposed to be one blur itself, he couldn't process that he was in fact dissociating because it wasn't relevant to him. Everything seemed to become slowly clearer as he was able to process that he was in his office, but still not knowing what time it was at the moment, feeling as if only a few minutes had lasted.

  "ALEXIS." A certain voice darted straight into the vice's ears as he finally came back to reality, everything still seeming just slightly off. Quackity couldn't even explain exactly how it did, it just felt fake.
  He looked upwards towards the overly angry man, his appearance seeming like the devil itself; he was the devil itself. The other's horns seemingly could pierce right through someone, the small light source of the room reflecting off of them. The man — Jonathan Schlatt, Alex's husband — looked like he was about to combust, unlike the younger's expression; which was unreadable except for the wide eyes, which seemed shocked.
  "Alex," the other started, letting out a strained sigh as his face cracked a forced smile. The president walked around the younger's desk, gently, but firmly, placing his hands on Quackity's shoulders as he stood behind the duck's chair. His voice spoke in such a quiet and worried, yet stern and threatening tone. The younger couldn't understand which of the mixed tones were the true ones behind the devil's tongue.
  "Pumpkin, I've been trying to reach you for five fucking minutes. Are you, doing okay?" He questioned, no real concern behind his words, even his own words sounding strained and forced. His hands becoming slightly tighter on the younger's shoulders.
  "Oh- really?... I mean, yeah, I'm," Alex started, his eyes darting around the room, landing on the clock.