#[adventure’s beauty is everywhere: musings]

[cosmique-oddity]

Im so happy you like it >:}}}}

In addition, I also got some thoughts I wanted to share about my choices for this playlist hehehe

I mean, fanfic content 🤌🤌 we love that

Tame Impala Borderline : i got no idea why but it gives me the perfect vibe to draw Jazz...in space especially. In this playlist i placed a lot of songs for space vibes, but this one's also for romance vibe, the way Jazz would flirt. You cannot possibly comprehend how this music radiate mech's pilot jazz x Prowl A.U. in my FEELINGS.

Pacific Rim theme : No explanation required ig for this one X)) I LOVE THIS THEME. ALWAYS HAVE. And the whole Au is based on these movies.

Pink Floyd : THE VIBES. Slow music. Perfect to draw. Its more of a 'Jazz would def listen to this' song. Nonchalant side.

Voltron's theme : 1. Mecha 2. I have to bring my propaganda everywhere 3. ‘Funny Jazz doing silly swings with his mech’ vibes.

505 from Arctic Monkeys : very good song to write and draw angst hehe. Talk abt love. Feelings....

Shangri La by The Electric Light Orchestra : RAAAAAAH. The vibes the vibes. Perfect to write angst too heh. This depict with sound how i see a human x cybertronian relation ship, the symbiosis, the feelings, two different bodies, same soul....how am i supposed to describe it X) ?

Jack to the Bone : only there for atmosphere. Nice background song when you are easily distracted by lyrics. Drawing song. Chill.

Heads Will Roll : KILLING QUINTESSONS TIME W PROWL >:D also this one got the mood i love for this A.U., the whole « undying warrior Jazz because his mecha dont feel pain so he can freely battle »concept.

Diva Dance from 5th Element : i have a thing for this song. And....vibe again. Always vibes. Always. But yeah, slow music, feelings about beauty and grace ….. a waltz between two mechs in space.... and then BLACADABAM !! The second part where its

B A T T L E T I M E.

Interstellar's theme : IT MAKE SENSE. it just make sense because yk stars, space....also very good music when you want to draw the space abysses. Moody song.

David Bowie Space Oddity : Probably the more lore-accurate song . I mean, its litteraly a song about a man, who's slowly loosing contact with Earth, diving into space (its not exactly the same thing tho).... May be good for depicting eventual Earth homesickness. Lyrics song.

Cet air : french song. Propaganda i was so obliged. But yeahhh melancholic shit....the voices are angelic and pretty. Nobody will understand the lyrics so its perfect. Talking about melancholy and times gone by. Song to listen if there's a separation Jazz/Prowl angst time in ur fic. (Or if one of them die haha...or any other separation.)good for grief.

Sweet Dreams : Omg i dont know. Jazz seeking adventures i guess. And him being playful with Prowl. shielding himself by using the word VIBE to explain everything.

I dont Want to Play around : Nobody can tell me this song is not space coded. Jazz would listen to this i know it.

Starlight, Muse : the name of the song. The fact that this is a love song. Talking about going very far, seeking for 'Starlight' Dreams....not caring about anything.. did i mentionned love song ? Nah i love the lyrics. Lyrics song.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road : Blues song. Elton John, young boy -yes. I keep in mind how Jazz will ultimately either pull us an Avatar or die before Prowl-. Earth melancholy (im thinking a lot about that, he wouldnt miss Earth that much. BUT. HUMAN MUSIC. Human culture etc....hahaha yes he will miss that part).

Wildfire (Cocolia Boss Theme HSR) : Fighting even if you are far from home. Teaming even if you are in cold space. This song was created for a Boss theme but is also very...idk....it display a lot of emotions....so. Epic Battle, eventually when one of the two are injured and surrounded by Quintessons or other ennemies. When they first loose hope and then just go 'fuck that lets win'.

Fall Out Boy, Immortals : Aahhhh

....Jazz is a tiny human....Prowl and him are in a middle of crazy fights....but just if they are together, they could be Immortals. Again an action-battle Song. Im a battle writer i juste have to learn how to draw battles so i can fully turn into the ultimate edgelord.

Fine, Lemon Demon : This one's got an history, i discovered this song via a Rottmnt edit about Donnie. For me this song is about being represented as a grumpy and angry person, but deep inside its a 'disguise' and the person is a sweet sunshine (or just hide a bright side). Just a person who struggle to show HOW they are thinking. Whats the process and who they really are. And yes. I see some similarites between these two characters.

David Bowie, Starman : I love incorporating a shit ton of space sings in there. But hear me out :

Prowl is Jazz's star man.

End of the hear me out. Spaces vibes again.

Jamiroquai Cosmic Girl : Prowl is the Star man, but Jazz is the Cosmic 'girl' depicted in this song. An odd being but....spacey, his feeling are never landing from space. Dreaming about exploration, got a strong magnetizing power. "She is just a Cosmic Girl from another Galaxy".

Elton John Im still standing : Some of Keferon's ask mentionned Jazz doesnt minding getting his mech hurt because well....he cant feel its just a machine. So i feel like it works very well with an eventual liberated fighting style. Also 'feeling like a little kid' could refere to well...piloting giant robot. Who doesn’t want to be him among us ?

Sooo

Since my heart is full of tiny human Jazz hiding in a giant mech, Cybertronian Prowl learning about a new specie and cool spacey romance with some badass fight, I made a playlist

Every song is quite its own mood, but most of them are calm and could help drawing and writing about this alternate universe.

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLLo-Kslg8kXDBq2ixffKrojLFNByeRelg&si=SJsMyJ_AaF-I7kzP

:^

Have a nice day

OOOOOUUUHHHHH This is so cool fjfngnfn

I know what I'm listening tomorrow>:D

[plutonianeris]

Asteroid Aphrodite (1388)

APHRODITE IN THE 1ST HOUSE OR ARIES

Radiating irresistible beauty and magnetism, you captivate others without even trying. You naturally exude grace and charm, making you the center of attention. Everywhere you go, people are drawn to your sensual aura. Confidence in your appearance and style comes effortlessly, and you know how to make an entrance that leaves people mesmerized. You live for being admired and desired, and your presence alone can be intoxicating to others. There’s a flirtatious energy about you that makes others feel like they're basking in the presence of a goddess.

APHRODITE IN THE 2ND HOUSE OR TAURUS

Attracting wealth, luxury, and beauty, your sensual nature finds expression in the material world. You have a refined taste for the finer things in life, and others can’t help but be drawn to your exquisite style. Possessions and financial security bring out your sense of comfort and confidence, adding to your allure. You have a natural way of making things, including yourself, more beautiful, and you know how to attract both money and admiration. There’s a seductive aura around the way you handle your resources and the pleasure you derive from them.

APHRODITE IN THE 3RD HOUSE OR GEMINI

Your words are laced with charm and seduction, and you can easily talk your way into anyone’s heart. There’s a flirtatious tone in your voice, making everyday conversations feel more intimate and captivating. You have a gift for making others feel special, as if you’re speaking only to them, no matter the topic. Your beauty and allure often shine through your intellect and the way you express yourself. The power of persuasion is strong with you, and you often find admiration coming your way through your charming conversations.

APHRODITE IN THE 4TH HOUSE OR CANCER

Your beauty is deeply rooted in a sense of emotional warmth and comfort. You make others feel safe and adored in your presence, creating a home-like sanctuary wherever you go. There’s something about your domestic energy that others find incredibly attractive. Your sensuality is expressed in nurturing ways through cooking, creating cozy spaces, and offering emotional support. People are drawn to you because they feel like they can find comfort in your loving energy. You embody the essence of home, warmth, and gentle affection.

APHRODITE IN THE 5TH HOUSE OR LEO

A true lover of romance, drama, and fun, your beauty shines brightest in the spotlight of creativity and play. You attract attention effortlessly, like a muse inspiring admiration from all who see you. There’s an undeniable sexual charisma in the way you express yourself, and your flirtatious nature often takes center stage in your life. You’re passionate and always ready to indulge in love, art, and pleasure. Your presence feels like a romantic adventure waiting to happen, leaving those around you enchanted and eager to be part of your story.

APHRODITE IN THE 6TH HOUSE OR VIRGO

Your sensuality is expressed in the everyday details of life, making the ordinary feel extraordinary. There’s a quiet charm to the way you handle responsibilities, infusing beauty into daily routines. Others are drawn to your elegance and the way you effortlessly blend beauty and practicality. You take pride in caring for yourself and others, and there’s something alluring about the way you maintain balance between work and pleasure. Your ability to find beauty in structure and routine makes you captivating in a subtle, refined way.

APHRODITE IN THE 7TH HOUSE OR LIBRA

The ultimate partner in love, you attract admirers who are drawn to your harmonious and balanced nature. You embody the essence of relationship goals, with others seeing you as the ideal partner—beautiful, charming, and diplomatic. There’s a deep allure in how you relate to others, and people are often seduced by your fairness, grace, and the way you make them feel valued. Partnerships, both romantic and professional, come easily to you because of your innate ability to create connection and intimacy.

APHRODITE IN THE 8TH HOUSE OR SCORPIO

Magnetically mysterious, you exude an intense, seductive energy that draws others in on a soul-deep level. There’s something about you that is both alluring and dangerous, as people sense that you have the power to transform them. Sexuality, intimacy, and deep emotional connections are your playground, and your beauty is often intertwined with themes of power and vulnerability. People are fascinated by your depth and feel an irresistible pull toward the hidden, passionate side of you. You seduce through intensity, leaving a lasting impression on anyone who crosses your path.

APHRODITE IN THE 9TH HOUSE OR SAGITTARIUS

You are the epitome of beauty in wisdom and exploration. Your love for adventure, philosophy, and different cultures makes you irresistibly attractive. There’s a radiant glow that comes from your love of life and the expansive way you view the world. You captivate others with your free spirit and open-mindedness, and your curiosity for the unknown gives you an exotic, intriguing charm. Your beauty shines brightest when you’re learning, traveling, or teaching others, as your passion for discovery is contagious.

APHRODITE IN THE 10TH HOUSE OR CAPRICORN

Commanding admiration in public life, your beauty is on display for the world to see. You naturally attract respect and recognition for your elegance, professionalism, and poise. There’s a regal quality to the way you carry yourself, and others are drawn to your ambition and the effortless way you climb the social ladder. Your sense of style and grace often makes you a trendsetter, and people look up to you for inspiration. You know how to wield your charm in a way that helps you achieve your goals, making success feel as natural as breathing.

APHRODITE IN THE 11TH HOUSE OR AQUARIUS

Your beauty is a force of inspiration for the collective, drawing people toward you in social settings and group activities. There’s something magnetic about the way you connect with others on a humanitarian level. You shine brightest when you’re part of a larger cause or community, and people are captivated by your vision for a better world. Your charm and allure often make you the life of the party, with a seductive energy that brings people together. Friendships and networks form easily around you, as others are drawn to your idealism and social grace.

APHRODITE IN THE 12TH HOUSE OR PISCES

A mystical and elusive beauty surrounds you, making you appear otherworldly and hard to pin down. You have an ethereal, dream-like quality that others find incredibly captivating, as though you’re a living embodiment of fantasy. There’s something deeply romantic about your private and introspective nature, and people are drawn to the mysteries you hold within. You exude a soft, enchanting allure that often attracts those who want to uncover the depths of your soul. In the unseen and spiritual realms, your beauty flourishes, often hidden but profoundly felt by those who sense it.

[fastandcarlos]

The House Of Piastri : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: the one where you and oscar move into a place that you can finally call your own

“Welcome to the house of Piastri!” Oscar chimed, turning the key and opening up the place that was finally yours. “Our very first home,” Oscar grinned, throwing his arm across your shoulders, pulling you in. 

It was far from perfect, there were moving boxes everywhere, little decoration, and many of the rooms were uncoordinated, but it was your place. Just for you and Oscar. There was no one else around, nothing to interrupt you both anymore. 

“Where do we begin?” You laughed, pressing your fingers to your temple. “What have we signed ourselves up for?” You asked Oscar, glancing across at him. His smile was wide, a lot more optimistic than you were at the adventure that you had ahead of you. 

When Oscar suggested the two of you think about finding your own place after moving to Monaco, you jumped at the chance. It was a big deal for you both, having only ever lived separately before, but after leaving home in order to support Oscar, you knew you couldn’t be alone. 

“Doesn’t it just feel right though?” Oscar whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I can already see how amazing it’s going to look, even if it doesn’t look that way right now.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, no doubt that it was a place you’d feel happy calling your home. You and Oscar had so many plans, you’d spent hours awake at night talking through your ideas, searching online for some inspiration of what you’d like. 

“The view is beautiful too,” you hummed, taking a few steps forward across the room to where your balcony was. “I don’t think I’ll tire of looking out here, it’s beautiful.” 

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Oscar chimed, watching as your eyes rolled. “What? I’m only being honest; it doesn’t quite compare to you.” 

Oscar took your hand again, leading you across to where the sofa was just beside the balcony. You sat against his side, back pressed against his chest as Oscar rested his head on top of yours. It was about the only piece of furniture that you had built and ready to go, having taken most of the day to get it delivered and set up, but it left you both excited for all the hard work that was to come.  

It felt like a dream as you looked around the apartment, neither you or Oscar could quite believe that you were finally there, after months of planning and waiting around. 

“Imagine how beautiful this is going to be soon,” Oscar whispered into your ear, “I can see us spending forever here, growing old, maybe even raising a family too.” 

Your eyes widened as Oscar spoke, not quite knowing what to say. He felt your body tense up, worried that maybe he’d said the wrong thing, got too ahead of himself in amongst all of the excitement of moving in. 

Oscar mumbled an apology across to you. “I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just a maybe one day kind of thing. I guess I’m just excited for the future now that we’re finally here.” 

It wasn’t that you were scared, but you’d never really heard Oscar talk about your future plans before. You were both so young, and had so much time ahead of you, although you knew most of your time now was going to be spent building, decorating, and trying to get your home look a little more homely.  

“Don’t be sorry,” you smiled up at Oscar, “there’s no need to be sorry. I like that you’re thinking about these sorts of things. Forever is a long time though; we don’t know where the future is going to take us.” 

“I’d live anywhere as long as I had you with me,” Oscar mused, “I’d live in a rubbish bin as long as you were there, even if you would end up smelling a bit.” 

“Moving in has really got you thinking about things, hasn’t it?” 

Oscar nodded, kissing against the top of your head. “I guess moving in with you has made me so happy, I’m just excited now for what’s going to come next.” 

“I’ll give you a clue...a heck of a lot of painting,” you teased. 

It was going to take many hours to get the apartment as you wanted it, but you and Oscar knew that together you’d get it done. You didn’t want the easy option when it came to finding your home, but even this was a harder challenge than either of you could imagine. 

“Think about all the memories that we’re going to make here,” Oscar spoke, “we’ll be able to have friends over, family can stay when they visit, and just stay here together too.” 

It was a big move, not only had you found a new city, but you’d found a new country too. Luckily for you, many of the other drivers who were already out there had been more than willing to help you out, offering their services whenever you needed them. 

“I think once we’re unpacked and decorated, I’ll feel happier, your mum would be mortified if she knew we were living here with the state of this place right now,” you replied. 

“She can’t wait to visit,” Oscar laughed, “I think she might be more excited than us about this.” 

Everyone around you couldn’t wait to see you move in together, you were inseparable at the best of times and it was only a matter of time. Your parents, and Oscar’s, especially had pushed you to move in, desperate to see you in a place you could call your own. 

“It’s going to be crazy, but there’s no one else I’d like to move in with and decorate my first home alongside.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, as terrifying as it was, you were beyond excited too. Your vision was clear, and one thing you were absolutely confident of was the fact that you were absolutely going to love living there, especially with Oscar there too. 

“You know, when all of this is done, we’ll be able to sit here and think about how lucky we are.” 

Your head tilted back to look up at Oscar, “I already feel lucky enough as it is. You’re here, and we’re in Monaco, what could be better than that?” 

“I really do appreciate you moving all the way out here to support me,” Oscar whispered, “not many people would move across the world for their partner. It’s a huge sacrifice to make, I just hope that it’s worthwhile being here for you.” 

“It’s worth it, wherever you go, I go,” you replied, reminding him of the promise that you made to each other. “Anyway, Monaco is definitely the place that feels like home now too.” 

Oscar glanced down with a smile, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you right now. I think I could get used to living here, with you.” 

“I agree, this is beyond anything that I could have ever dreamed of.” 

“It’s not just an apartment anymore, it’s our home,” Oscar said, “a place we can finally call our own.” 

“The house of Piastri, it’s perfect.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[kefiteria]

to be loved by a poet

char: Kazuha x Reader

tags: establish relationship,fluff, romantic gestures

A gentle breeze caressed your cheek, carrying with it the warmth of a sun setting over the horizon. Beneath the sprawling tree in the Guyun Stone Forest, two mortals found solace in each other’s company. Kazuha, with a tender glint in his eyes, coaxed a melody from a leaf, its tranquil notes mingling with the whispers of the wind.

“How does it sound? I tried to recreate the wind’s voice from our last journey, to share its essence with you.” Kazuha asked, with his smile as serene as the sunset.

“It’s beautiful! It reminds me of those quiet hills where the wind sings softly.” you replied, savoring an egg tart from your plate, a moment of shared peace.

Kazuha's gaze softened as he wiped a stray crumb from the corner of your lips. “In my eyes, a deity feasts upon a humble treat, yet it is my heart you devour. How has my mortal soul come to deserve such divine grace?”

A smiled crept up your face at Kazuha's poetic words, the sincerity in his eyes warming your heart even more than the sun overhead. You put down the egg tart and smiled back at him, the tranquility of the moment wrapping around you both like a gentle embrace. “You always know the right words to say, Kazuha.” you replied softly, leaning closer to him.

“Moments like these feel like they belong to another world, a world where time slows down and all that exists is us.”

With his words flowed like a gentle river, each syllable a caress that soothed and uplifted. It felt as though the very essence of love and serenity was woven into his voice, creating an atmosphere of tranquility and warmth.

“Go on…" you murmured, captivated by the magic of his speech. “Continue, please. I am eager to hear your thoughts, for they bring such peace to my soul.”

He smiled with a tender light in his eyes, and resumed his lyrical musings, each word a balm to your spirit, resonating deeply within your heart. “The taste of egg tart on your lips, a sweetness I adore, yet pales before the essence of the heart that I implore. Oh, the heavens have bestowed a gift, so precious and divine, a glimpse of eternity, where your hand is held in mine.”

You smiled and eyes softening as you continued to listen to Kazuha reciting his poem. His voice was like a gentle breeze, each word a delicate petal carried on the wind.

“Your laughter is a song, a serenade to the night, guiding me like a lighthouse through the tempest's might. In your eyes, I see a reflection of the boundless sea…A promise of adventures that await both you and me.” Kazuha's words hung in the air, a silence fell between you, charged with the weight of his heartfelt confession.

With cheeks flushed a deep crimson with heart pounding with a mix of joy and embarrassment. You looked down, unable to meet his intense gaze, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Kazuha, that was… breathtaking. I’ve never heard anything so beautiful. You have a way of making me feel like the most special person in the world.” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes softened as he took your hand, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. “If only I could capture this moment in a bottle, to cherish forever...” he murmured, his voice barely louder than the whispering breeze. “The world is vast and ever-changing, but here, with you, I find a stillness that eludes me everywhere else.”

Silence settled between you, the rustling leaves and distant calls of the ocean creating a symphony that filled the air. You closed your eyes, letting the sounds and sensations wash over you, grounding you in the peacefulness of the moment.

After a while, Kazuha spoke again, his voice is a projection of a soothing lullaby. “Do you ever wonder what lies beyond the horizon? What adventures await us in lands unknown?”

You nodded, gaze drifting towards the horizon where the sea met the sky. “I do. I dream of exploring new places, of seeing the world through different eyes. But right now, I can't imagine wanting to be anywhere but here, with you.”

Kazuha with his grip on your hand tightened slightly, a silent promise of many more moments like this to come. “Wherever our journeys take us, know that you will always have a place in my heart, a companion in every journey.”

Slowly you leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence seep into you. “And you in mine, Kazuha. Always.”

“And as the sun descends, painting the sky with gold, I wish to carve these moments into stories yet untold. For in the quietude of twilight, under the Guyun Stone's gaze, I find my heart entangled in your love’s endless maze.” Kazuha's lips brushed gently against your forehead as the sun dipped below the horizon, enveloping you in a warm, golden embrace.

The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, you both remained under the tree, savoring the simple joy of being together.

In my eyes, a deity feasts upon a humble treat, yet it is my heart you devour. How has my mortal soul come to deserve such divine grace?

The taste of egg tart on your lips, a sweetness I adore, yet pales before the essence of the heart that I implore. Oh, the heavens have bestowed a gift, so precious and divine, a glimpse of eternity, where your hand is held in mine.

Your laughter is a song, a serenade to the night, guiding me like a lighthouse through the tempest's might. Then, in your eyes I see a reflection of the boundless sea. A promise of adventures that await both you and me.

The world is vast and ever-changing, but here, with you, I find a stillness that eludes me everywhere else. Wherever our journeys take us, know that you will always have a place in my heart, a companion in every journey.

And as the sun descends, painting the sky with gold, I wish to carve these moments into stories yet untold. For in the quietude of twilight, under the Guyun Stone's gaze, I find my heart entangled in your love’s endless maze.

[melodyjai]

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[heavenlytouches]

can you do more autumn stuff? with Pedro maybe? thanks so muchh

Hello sweetie! Ofc I can, I would love to ^^ thank you so muchh and awww I didn't know you guys liked Pedro that much! Hope you'll enjoy baee El <3

Pedro Pascal- crisp air

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

GN reader

<3 (SFW)

TW-none

Autumn day with Pey

PARTNER! Pedro Pascal <3

Pedro Pascal

You wake up to the gentle rustling of leaves outside your window, a soft golden light filtering through the curtains. It’s one of those beautiful autumn days where the world glows in shades of orange, red, and gold.

You stretch languidly, a smile creeping onto your lips as you think about your plans with Pedro, your partner of a year, who sets your heart racing in a way that makes every day feel like an adventure.

By the time you’re ready, the sun has climbed higher into the sky, casting a warm hue over everything. You step outside and inhale the crisp air to fill your lungs with the scent of fallen leaves and distant woodsmoke. Your heart skips as you spot Pedro leaning against his bike, a casual smile highlighting his features, his warm brown eyes glimmering with unspoken joy.

“Ready for our adventure?”

He asks, his voice like warm honey under the autumn sun.

“Born ready!”

Yu reply, grinning as you hop onto the bike behind him. The day awaits, filled with possibilities.

As he pedals down the winding paths of the nearby park, you can't help but marvel at the vibrant hues surrounding you. The leaves have transformed the landscape into a tapestry of color; orange and gold dance with vibrant reds, each gust of wind sending gentle showers of leaves spiraling like confetti.

You pass by a downed tree, its gnarled branches stretching wide, and you catch a whiff of something delicious drifting from a nearby food stall.

“Let’s take a break...?”

You suggest, excitement bubbling in your chest. He stops the bike and takes your hand, guiding you through a meadow awash with golden sunlight that causes your heart to flutter.

You sit on a plaid blanket sprawled across the grass, admiring each other amidst the picturesque scenery.

“Look at that...”

Pedro points as a flock of birds takes flight, swirling against the azure sky.

“Isn’t it breathtaking?”

“Almost as breathtaking as you-”

You tease, nudging him playfully. He blushes, a charming shade of rose blooming on his cheeks as you lean into him.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He chuckles softly. You pluck a leaf from the ground, holding it up to inspect its marbled veins.

“What do you think our leaf here wishes it could say?”

You ponder aloud.

“I think it would whisper sweet nothings about the beauty of autumn,”

He says, tapping his chin dramatically.

“And how every falling leaf is a message of love.”

His earnestness makes you laugh, the sound blending with the rustle of the autumn breeze.

After snacking on caramel apples and sipping hot cider, you both decide to take a stroll along the winding pathways that are painted with fallen leaves. The crunch beneath your feet is oddly satisfying, and you both kick up leaves like children as you share stories and dreams.

“Imagine a place where the autumn never ends...”

Pedro muses, his voice light and dreamy.

“And we can dance in the golden leaves forever.”

“Sounds perfect.”

You say, warmth radiating through you as you catch his gaze.

“Just you, me, and this gorgeous world.”

The sun begins to lower, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. You find yourselves near a shimmering lake, the water reflecting the palette of the sunset sky. You sit on a wooden bench, your fingers intertwined, stealing little glances at each other as if you both are afraid to break the spell of the moment.

“Can I say something?”

Pedro breaks the comfortable silence, his thumb brushing the back of your hand.

“Always.”

You reply, your heart racing in anticipation.

“I feel like…”

He breathes in deeply, as if gathering courage.

“I feel like every day with you is like this autumn day—beautiful, fleeting, and filled with colors I never knew existed.”

His eyes search yours, glimmering with sincerity.

“I want every moment to be ours.”

You bite your lip, the rush of emotion causing something sweet to swell in your chest.

“Then let’s create a world where autumn lingers, where we can hold each other under this sky forever.”

Pedro’s face lights up with that dazzling smile of his, and without a second thought, he pulls you closer, your foreheads touching. The world around you fades, the autumn whispers becoming gentle notes of love.

As the sun finally dips below the horizon, painting the sky in blushing pinks and purples, you and Pedro sit together in perfect harmony, surrounded by the comforting embrace of falling leaves. Today was just one of many moments, but it felt like the greatest adventure of all.

With an autumn breeze cradling you both, the two of you lean in, sealing the day with a soft, sweet kiss, the world around you blooming with a love as vivid and embracing as the colors of fall.

This fic is pure teeth-rotting fluff TwT I hope you liked it anyway <3

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Thigh Fucking~

this was a bit hard for me. i didn't want to go into too much detail on here, so i did what i always did. started a new au which leads up to it. i hope you like this. i think it might be one of my top five!

@adamsappleweek

Adam sighed, feeling the weight of the day in every bone and muscle. His body ached from hours spent hunched over his desk, fingers stiff from holding his pencil, eyes burning from the endless focus. Yet, he couldn’t stop. No matter how his body screamed for rest, he pushed forward. He had to. His future depended on it. This project was his golden ticket—if he could nail it, so many doors could open. This company, after all, was a titan in the industry, its designs coveted across the globe. Their releases caused a frenzy; people craved their issues like forbidden fruit.

There was a quiet pride in Adam’s heart, knowing they had chosen him, a humble dreamer with passion, not some polished, high-end designer with an inflated ego. He still remembered that moment like a first kiss—wide-eyed, fresh out of university, hardly daring to believe his luck when they offered him an internship. His hands had trembled as he signed the paperwork, tears of gratitude brimming in his eyes. He was the youngest, the least experienced, the intern who fetched coffee and sat in on meetings like a fly on the wall, but none of that mattered. He had one thing that couldn’t be taught: passion. And he poured every bit of it into his work, vowing he’d prove himself worthy. Design wasn’t just a job; it was his lifeblood, a legacy left by his mother.

Adam could still see her clearly in his mind—elegant and bold, a force of creativity, designing clothes that danced between classical beauty and daring adventure. She had been the leading lady of her fashion house, captivating the world until her tragic passing. Adam grew up idolizing her, dreaming of one day standing where she once stood, weaving his own designs into the tapestry of fashion. He had inherited her artist’s touch; he was sure of it. Now, it was his time to prove it.

The lamp on his desk flickered dimly, casting soft shadows in the nearly deserted office. The ticking clock felt like a countdown, each second urging him to make something extraordinary. Everyone else had long since gone home, but not Adam. He wasn't ready to quit. Not yet. This "scrap" project, tossed to him like table scraps, would be his masterpiece. Something that would make the seniors take notice, something more than just an intern running errands.

Adam’s emerald-green eyes gleamed as he turned his attention to Lilith Leonhart, the muse of his art. Lilith—one of the most stunning and sought-after models in the industry. She was perfection wrapped in golden silk, her icy blue eyes and flawless features etched into the minds of designers and artists everywhere. If he could design something that matched her beauty, something elegant yet unforgettable, he’d have a chance. He had spent hours sketching her, imagining her in every pose, every fabric, every colour, refining every line until his fingers cramped. Her pinups dominated the walls of the design department—lips parted in a coy smile, hair cascading in luxurious waves.

He had chosen a popular style—one that young people were wearing in droves, a look that blended sophistication with a pop of youthful energy. The outfit was sleek, tailored to perfection, a bold purple suit with sharp lines and subtle accents in green, blue, and pink. Purple, Adam thought, made Lilith's striking features stand out even more, her icy blue eyes practically glowing against the rich fabric. It was trendy, it was polished. Surely, this would catch someone’s eye.

Just as he was about to lean back and admire his work, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

Purple has never been Lilith’s colour."

Adam jumped, nearly knocking his sketches to the floor. His heart skipped a beat as he snapped his head around to find Sera, the head of the design department, standing behind him. She was stunning in her own right, with long, thick curls in a striking blend of white and purple, her dark skin glowing in the soft light. Her features were sharp, almost regal, with a gaze that could cut through steel.

“O-oh? Excuse me?” Adam stammered, blinking in surprise.

Sera didn’t seem fazed by his reaction. She hummed softly, her long lashes fluttering as she examined his work. It was late, and she appeared to be on the verge of leaving, yet something had drawn her over to him. Her lips curled into a slight smile, a knowing look in her eyes.

"You're married to the work, just like me," she remarked with a cool chuckle.

"I... I just want to do the best I can," he confessed, voice softening. Adam flushed, his pulse quickening at her words. "I’m serious about this—about being a designer. Like my mother."

Sera's hum deepened, her eyes still on his drawings.

"I can see that. You’ve put your heart into these," she said gently, but there was something else in her tone, something that made Adam’s chest tighten. "But sometimes... effort isn’t enough."

Adam froze, her words hitting him like a splash of cold water. He swallowed hard, watching her as she tilted her head toward the wall of pinups—not just Lilith, but Eve Heather green, Lute Scar, Michael Morningstar. Each model radiated their own unique energy, their own style. They were all muses, not just Lilith, Adam realized.

“I remember when I was in your shoes,” Sera continued, her voice soft, yet filled with experience. “I wanted so badly to be like the senior designers, to mimic their success, to be noticed. But I had to learn something important—you don’t get noticed by doing what everyone else is doing. You get noticed by being yourself, by bringing something fresh, something that speaks you into the world."

Adam gazed across the room, at all the designs pinned up for inspiration. Lilith was everywhere, yes, but suddenly, he saw it—how uniform they all were. How... ordinary. His breath hitched as the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Sera was right. There was nothing special about his designs. He had been following trends, regurgitating what had already been done. Nothing original.

"Take a break," Sera suggested softly. "Come back to it with fresh eyes. Don’t stay too late."

With one last encouraging smile, she turned to leave, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she walked away.

Adam watched her go, his heart sinking. His chair squealed as he swivelled back to face his desk, staring down at the sketches of Lilith. Slowly, his lips twisted into a frown, eyes flicking over the designs pinning around the office. All the same. All safe.

Without another word, he crumpled them up and tossed them into the trash. No, this wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed to dig deeper, to find that spark within himself, even if it meant creating something new, something risky. He wasn’t here to follow—he was here to lead.

With renewed determination, Adam stood up, ready to start over. He would create something different, something that would leave an imprint—not because it was what the world expected, but because it reflected the artist, he knew he could become.

Adam slowly climbed to his feet, the weight of the world resting heavily on his shoulders. His body felt stiff, but it was his mind that bore the real exhaustion. His thoughts, spinning in endless circles, needed clarity. He wandered around the design apartment, his fingers brushing lightly against the countless portfolios and framed issues that lined the walls. The models, captured in breathtaking poses, stared back at him—faces aglow with soft, luminous light. Every detail of these iconic covers was meant to catch the eye and hold it. The colors—cool, muted tones mixed with vibrant accents—made the models shimmer, like rare gems in the sea of high fashion.

Even the work of the senior designers, those whose approval he craved, had a consistency to it. They all pursued one ideal—polished, ethereal perfection. As Adam moved between the desks, his gaze fell on the work of the other interns, the sketches and color swatches they left behind. They too seemed caught in the same web, designing to a familiar formula, chasing the style that had already been deemed successful. A quiet frustration brewed in his chest. He thought he had been creating something fresh, something new, but now he saw how closely his work mirrored theirs. Too close. He was following, not leading.

Back at his desk, Adam tapped his fingers against the surface absentmindedly, slumping back into his swivel chair. What should he do? How could he stand out when everything he created looked like a reflection of what had already been done? He wanted to carve out his own path, just as his mother had. But what would she do? What advice would she give if she were still here?

His emerald eyes flicked across the scattered art supplies on his desk—cheap, store-bought tools that felt as disposable as his ideas. Then, his gaze settled on something different, something precious. In the corner of his workspace, tucked away but never far from his thoughts, was a small, sealed packet. His mother’s hand-me-down watercolors. They were all he had left of her. Adam had never dared to use them, too afraid of wasting the last remnants of her artistry.

Slowly, as if drawn by some invisible thread, he reached for the packet, his fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the lid. The worn edges were soft under his touch, and with a deep, steadying breath, he eased it closer. A small piece of his mother, something he had kept with him all this time but had never been able to fully embrace.

Breathing deeply, Adam carefully pulled the latch. The box opened with a soft click, revealing the pristine watercolors inside. But what caught his attention wasn’t the paints—it was a small, folded piece of paper tucked neatly inside. Frowning, he reached for it, curiosity and a hint of apprehension bubbling in his chest. Slowly, he unfolded the paper, his breath hitching when he saw his mother’s familiar, elegant handwriting.

“Adam,” the note began, the letters flowing smoothly, as if she had written them just yesterday. “I’m so proud of you, my love. I’ve always adored the little fashion designs you did for school. I could see even then that you had something special, a talent that would blossom into something extraordinary. I know you’ll grow into a wonderful designer, just like you’ve always dreamed.”

Adam’s chest tightened, and before he even realized it, tears welled in his eyes. His vision blurred as he read the last line.

“I love you so much.”

The tears slipped down his cheeks, unbidden, and he didn’t bother wiping them away. He’d tried so hard, poured everything he had into his work. But what if it was never enough? What if, despite all his efforts, he didn’t make it? The fear gripped his heart, squeezing tighter with every silent tear that fell. His breath came in shallow bursts as he stared at the note, his fingers trembling.

Then, as he folded the note over, he noticed something written on the back. Blinking away the moisture in his eyes, Adam carefully turned the paper over and read the words there. It was a quote, one that tugged at the corners of his memory. His mother had often said it to him when he doubted himself.

“Just be you, and everything else will fall where it should be.”

A soft sob escaped his lips, and he covered his mouth, trying to steady himself. Adam swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The words echoed in his mind, weaving through his doubt like a balm. His mother always knew just what to say to pull him out of the dark.

He stared down at the delicate watercolors for a few moments, his heart aching but also filled with warmth. She had believed in him, more than anyone else ever had. And if she had believed in him, then he had to believe in himself, too.

With gentle hands, he began to close the box, making sure everything was lovingly put away. But as he did, his gaze wandered to the walls again, to the faces of the models who hadn’t graced the big issues, the ones relegated to the sidelines. His eyes landed on Vagatha Luna, with her sharp, mysterious features, and Husker Card, with his brooding gaze. Then there was Anthony Dust, whose playful smirk seemed to challenge the status quo, and Alastor Shot, whose wild, untamed hair defied every convention but spoke so old fashioned.

And finally, Charlotte Haz, the sweetest person you’d ever meet. Adam chuckled softly, wiping his damp cheeks. Charlotte, with her golden hair and striking blue eyes, bore such a resemblance to Lilith and Michael that there had been rumours she was their daughter when she first debuted. For a brief moment, she had been the talk of the town, until the rumors were debunked, and her popularity plummeted. She had been cast aside, like so many others. The "hazbins," as people cruelly called them. Forgotten, rejected.

Adam’s fingers drummed softly against the edge of his desk as his mind began to wander. What if he didn’t follow the path everyone else was walking? What if, instead of chasing after the perfect, popular muses like Lilith, he turned his focus to the ones no one was paying attention to? The ones who had been cast aside, dismissed, overlooked.

He bit his bottom lip, a new spark of excitement flickering in his chest. Maybe that’s where his originality would come from—not by following the trends, but by embracing the forgotten, the misfits. They had stories, too. They had beauty that the world had turned away from. And maybe, just maybe, that was where he could shine.

Adam sat back, his fingers itching to grab his pencil again. He wasn’t just going to follow the crowd anymore. He was going to lead it in a direction no one else had thought to go. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to make him stand out.

The following morning, Adam sprang from his bed before the shrill call of his alarm could even break the silence. Excitement pulsed through his veins, every inch of him buzzing with the creative fire that had ignited deep within his soul the night before. His mind raced with ideas as he leapt into the shower, the water cascading over his skin barely registering against the flood of inspiration that stormed through him. Today was going to be the day—the day he set the world ablaze with his designs, something fresh, something bold. His heart raced in sync with the images flashing in his mind.

He barely noticed the blur of the city as he dashed through the streets on his way to work. Coffee for the seniors, sushi for the team—it was all routine, but today everything felt different, sharper. The mundane tasks didn’t bother him, even as he juggled cups of steaming coffee and trays of sushi while dodging pedestrians. As he passed the old, dilapidated movie theater, its faded marquee hanging forlornly above, something about its crumbling grandeur caught his eye. He stopped for a beat, staring up at it as though it held a secret only he could decipher, before shaking his head with a smirk. Not today. Today, he had bigger dreams to chase.

By the time he arrived at the office, he was running late, and the seniors wasted no time reminding him. But instead of the usual flush of embarrassment, Adam simply grinned, an unshakable confidence burning in his emerald eyes. Sera, the head of design, who was known for her cool, unreadable expression, glanced his way, and her lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. She could see it in him—the fire, the hunger. There was something different about Adam today.

After handling his minor duties with a practiced efficiency, Adam returned to his desk, where the other interns were already deep in chatter about their own designs. They were blissfully unaware of just how dull, how monotonous their ideas had become, stuck in the same tired loop of what had already been done. His friend, always curious, frowned slightly.

"Don’t you have anything to show?" they asked, peering over at Adam.

Adam hummed softly, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Not yet," he replied, his voice low and teasing. "I’m aiming for next week now."

His friend raised an eyebrow, surprised. They had seen Adam sketching feverishly the day before, but they didn’t press the issue. Something had changed in him, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on what.

Adam didn’t linger in conversation. He twisted in his chair and sprang to his feet, walking with purpose toward the neglected corner of the design room—the forgotten “hazbins.” These were the models no one wanted to work with anymore, their faces pushed to the side as newer, shinier names took the spotlight.

But today, Adam had a different vision. With a greedy, almost possessive determination, he began taking down the pinups of Vagatha Luna, Husker Card, Anthony Dust, and Charlotte Haz. Nobody batted an eye. They were rejects, after all, collecting dust in the shadows. But not to Adam. No, to him, they were the key.

He carried their images back to his desk and dumped the pile of headshots and old issues in a chaotic sprawl across his workspace. His friend looked over with a slight grimace, as if Adam had brought home a box of junk. But Adam paid no mind, a sly grin spreading across his face as he sorted through the pile.

"Do you want these?" Adam asked casually, without even looking up, holding out a handful of Lilith’s pinups to his friend.

They blinked in surprise, eyeing the coveted images of the company’s golden girl. "Uh... sure.”

"Thanks... But are you really going to use those?" Their tone was sceptical, a little bemused.

Adam’s grin only widened, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Of course."

His friend made another face, half-amused, half-worried.

"Well… your funeral," they muttered before turning back to their own work.

Adam chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that vibrated with the thrill of rebellion. He was breaking free from the mold, and it felt exhilarating. He pinned up the photos of the hazbins in a deliberate arrangement, making sure each model’s face stared down at him as if they were waiting, eager for him to breathe life into them once more. With the room around him buzzing with the hum of design talk, Adam leaned back in his chair, surveying his new layout with satisfaction. This was it. He was going to do something crazy. He was going to pitch his Hazbin Project.

But as the initial excitement began to cool, doubt slowly crept in. Adam groaned, his forehead dropping to his desk, his fingers threading through his tousled hair in frustration. What theme? What style? What colours? Every idea he sketched felt stale, too similar to the trends already dominating the office. He needed something bold, something seductive—something that would make the seniors stop in their tracks. But no matter how hard he tried, everything he came up with felt… wrong. Boring.

His pencil danced between his fingers, spinning idly as his thoughts swirled in chaotic frustration. He was on the verge of pulling his hair out, desperate for the spark of inspiration that just wasn’t coming. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind screaming for a breakthrough. He needed something daring. Something sensual, seductive, yet elegant.

His eyes flickered to the models pinned on the wall—the hazbins, their eyes shimmering with forgotten potential. Maybe… Maybe they needed a theme, something that played off their fall from grace, their buried allure. Something darker, more dangerous. The glitz and glam of the typical designs weren’t enough anymore. No. Adam’s models would rise from the ashes, not in the glowing light of stardom but in the sultry shadows of allure and mystery.

Adam groaned, letting out a frustrated breath as his friend gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm, telling him they were headed out for a smoke break. He waved them off, too absorbed in his failure to respond properly. Every line he sketched felt wrong. His ideas twisted and crumbled the moment he put them on paper. With a defeated sigh, Adam laid his head on the table, turning his face to the side as his arms formed a fortress around him, his forehead resting on his makeshift barricade. The weight of his creative block felt unbearable.

Then, a soft chuckle drifted from above. Adam blinked, lifting his head to see Sera standing over him, her cool grey eyes taking in the array of models he had spread across his desk. For a brief moment, Adam expected the usual dismissive comment, the same ridicule he’d been receiving from everyone else. But Sera said nothing of the sort. Instead, her lips curled into a sly smile.

“Hazbins?” she asked, her voice low and almost teasing.

Adam sat up straighter, feeling a flicker of hope, and gave a sheepish shrug. “It’s a play on words.”

Sera’s smirk widened, clearly appreciating the joke. “I see.”

Her gaze lingered on the models before returning to him. “And what would the Hazbins theme be?”

Adam’s smile faltered, his excitement fading as quickly as it had appeared. He groaned, running a hand through his tousled hair. “That’s the problem. I can’t come up with one. I’ve been stuck all morning.”

Sera hummed thoughtfully, crossing her arms. “I know that feeling all too well.”

She gestured with a subtle tilt of her head, inviting Adam to walk with her. “Come with me. Sometimes, when I’m stuck, a walk around the building helps. You never know what might inspire you.”

Adam grinned, eager for any break in his mental block, and quickly agreed. He followed her through the halls, their steps echoing softly as they moved past the bustling design room. The tension in Adam’s chest began to ease as they strolled side by side, the rhythm of their walk soothing him.

After a few moments of quiet, Adam finally asked, his curiosity piqued, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Sera’s cool gaze flicked to him, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

“I was on the board of decisions for this year’s internships,” she said, her tone casual.

Adam blinked, his brows knitting together. “Really?”

Sera nodded. “We had a lot of young artists apply. Normally, we wouldn’t take someone so fresh out of university.”

His curiosity deepened. “Then why did you accept me?”

Sera’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her eyes gleaming with something almost secretive. “Because I can recognize talent when I see it.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his heart skipping a beat. He stared at her in awe, his mind reeling. She had believed in him all along?

They came to a stop by a large set of windows that overlooked the company’s sprawling garden. Sera leaned against the frame, her eyes gazing out at the view with a serene smile.

“I liked how you sketched back then,” she continued softly, her voice carrying a touch of nostalgia. “The raw emotion you put into your designs was exactly what we were looking for. You didn’t just draw… you felt it.”

Adam noticed the shift in her tone—past tense. His heart sank slightly, realizing what she was implying.

“You need to stop thinking so hard,” she added, her voice low and almost intimate. “You’re letting your mind get in the way of your instincts. Just… let it out. That’s when the magic happens.”

Adam swallowed, nodding, though the weight of her words pressed heavily on him. He turned to gaze out of the window as well, taking in the beauty of the garden below. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy of trees, casting warm golden rays that painted the leaves with soft red and amber hues. The light danced across the landscape, creating a stunning tapestry of colours that seemed to shift and shimmer with every breeze. Adam couldn’t help but marvel at how peaceful it looked, like a scene from a dream.

His breath hitched, eyes widening as he caught sight of a figure sitting on the grass.

Lucifer Morningstar.

The name struck him like lightning. Michael’s older twin brother. The company’s retired golden boy, and Lilith’s fiercest rival. For years, Lucifer had been the face that adorned countless magazine covers, his popularity surpassing even Lilith’s at her peak. He was a legend—mysterious, untouchable.

Adam’s gaze lingered on the man below, who sat elegantly on the grass, feeding bread to a few ducks. The afternoon sunlight bathed Lucifer in a warm glow, highlighting the shimmering strands of his golden hair, which fell in soft waves around his face. His brilliant blue eyes, half-lidded and serene, glimmered in the sunlight, their cool depths seeming to capture the very sky itself.

“He’s beautiful…” Adam breathed out, almost to himself. His heart pounded as he took in the sight of the man, his chest tightening at the sheer presence Lucifer exuded, even in such a quiet moment.

Sera sighed softly beside him. “Such a shame he retired. He was so young.”

Adam gulped, tearing his eyes away from the vision below. “Why did he retire?”

Sera’s smile faded slightly, and she shook her head. “Personal reasons. I’m not going to delve into it.”

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if recalling something bittersweet. “But the company would welcome him back with open arms if he ever decided to return. Can you imagine the explosion if Lucifer came back? Every department would be scrambling to work with him again.”

Adam listened in silence, his attention drifting back to Lucifer. There was something so captivating about him—his grace, the quiet way he moved, the warmth in his smile as he sat with the ducks. Adam’s eyes traced the soft blush of his cheeks, the same natural rosiness that had captivated fans for years. There had always been rumours that Lucifer’s makeup was enhanced during shoots, but seeing him now, in this unfiltered moment, Adam realized the blush had always been real.

Lucifer reached into a small bag, pulling out a shining red apple. As he bit into it, the sun shifted again, casting a delicate array of shadows across his body. The leaves above danced together, and for a brief, magical moment, the shadows framed him like wings—six ethereal wings, as if the very earth recognized his angelic presence.

Adam blinked in awe, his breath catching in his throat. Something inside him stirred, vibrating with a deep, sudden realization. “

Oh…” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Sera glanced at him; curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Adam gasped, his entire body shuddering as the revelation hit him like a tidal wave. He turned to her; eyes wide with excitement.

“Oh, I got to go!” he nearly squealed, the spark of inspiration blazing to life. “I’m sorry, Sera, I’ve got to go!”

Without waiting for her reply, Adam bolted down the hall, his heart racing with newfound purpose. Sera watched him speed off, a bemused smile tugging at her lips. She placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head in amusement.

Glancing back at the garden, her eyes met Lucifer’s curious gaze. He waved wearily, offering her a gentle smile. Sera awkwardly waved back before turning sharply and sighing deeply to herself.

“What a shame he retired…” she muttered, her voice laced with quiet longing.

Adam burst back into the design room, heart pounding with anticipation, making sure to steer clear of the senior desks. He practically flew to his own corner, relieved to find it still empty. His hands trembled as he fell into his chair, adrenaline surging through him. Without a second thought, he seized his pencil, the memory of Lucifer in the garden still vivid, still glowing in his mind. Every detail burned into his imagination—the way the sunlight framed Lucifer, casting delicate wings from the shadows of the trees. His fingers danced feverishly over the paper, sketching as if driven by something primal, a deeper force beyond his control.

Lucifer didn’t have wings in reality, but in Adam’s mind, they unfurled, majestic and otherworldly. His pencil twirled, bringing to life the angelic vision that shimmered in his mind’s eye. Emerald eyes gleamed from the page, full of ancient wisdom, seduction, and untold power. His chest tightened with excitement as he continued to sketch, knowing full well he couldn’t use the retired model in his Hazbin pitch. But something, some mysterious pull, urged him to keep drawing Lucifer anyway.

With a gentle stroke, he added a top hat, laughing softly to himself at the juxtaposition—something so refined yet mischievous. A delicate halo encircled the brim, like a crown of light tainted by shadows. His pencil moved fluidly, as though bewitched, and soon Lucifer was draped in flowing, elegant robes, each fold and ripple caressed by the imaginary breeze that Adam saw in his mind’s eye.

The sketch took on a life of its own. Adam paused, staring at the breathtaking figure before him, his hand itching to add colour—a sensation he usually ignored. Colouring had always felt secondary to him, something he left for last with minimal care. But this time, the urge was so overwhelming it made his fingers twitch with need. His eyes shifted to the old, rare watercolours his mother had left him, the elegant black box sitting patiently on the shelf.

Adam’s heart raced as he reached for the box, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He opened it with a reverence reserved for sacred things, selecting the colours with care—yellow, orange, red, blue, green, pink, and white. It felt like a ritual, and as he dipped his brush and began to paint, he realized he was not merely colouring but bringing something divine to life. The hues bled together, creating a luminous, delicate masterpiece. Each brushstroke breathed life into Lucifer Morningstar, who now sat on the page as the angel who had once walked in the heavens.

Lucifer—the true Morningstar Angel. Adam could hardly believe he’d captured him in this light, this way. It was almost laughable—the irony of painting the fallen angel who had given the apple of knowledge to Adam and Eve. His lips quirked into a smile, amused at the symbolism he hadn’t even intended. But as his eyes roamed over the final painting, an idea—a theme—began to swirl in his mind like a whisper from the cosmos.

Heaven. Hell. Knowledge and damnation. The story of Lucifer’s fall, of him giving humanity the apple of knowledge and being cast down for it. And then, in Hell, witnessing the consequences—the Sinners, who entered his dominion because of that single act of defiance.

Adam’s breath hitched, excitement flooding his veins. Lucifer, the King of Hell... The vision of it was so clear, so powerful. His entire body tingled as the concept came together in his mind, piece by piece, until it felt like a masterpiece begging to be unleashed.

This time, Adam didn’t stay late at the office, though every fiber of his being wanted to. He left on time, unable to think of anything but the theme—his entire body buzzing with it, as though lightning had struck him. His fingers twitched at his sides, eager to hold a pencil again, to keep sketching, keep creating. He was nervous—no, terrified—by the boldness of the idea, the enormity of what he was about to pitch. But that fear was intoxicating. It pushed him, thrilled him.

Adam couldn’t shake the thought of Lucifer Morningstar. The man was a legend, a god-like figure in the modelling world, and even though he was retired, there was something so irresistible about using him. Lucifer, with his perfect face, his golden hair that shimmered in the sun, his brilliant blue eyes that could pierce through to someone’s soul. Adam bit his lip, his thoughts spinning wildly. He couldn’t officially use Lucifer in his design—he knew that. But that wouldn’t stop him from drawing inspiration from the retired model, from weaving him into the very heart of his concept.

In his mind, Lucifer would become the anchor, the forbidden muse around which everything revolved. He was the spark—the one who gave humanity the knowledge that led to sin, the one who had been cast down for it. The Hazbin pitch would be centred on that moment of temptation, on the forbidden fruit and the world that came from it—Hell itself.

Adam’s pulse quickened. He didn’t think anyone had done something like this before. It was new, daring, and so close to the edge it made his hands shake. What would people say? How would they react? A part of him was terrified of the backlash, of the potential failure. But another part—the part that had been sitting dormant for so long—thrived on the idea of pushing boundaries, of creating something no one had dared to before.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing thoughts in his mind, though his excitement wouldn’t die down.

Lucifer, King of Hell, he thought again, smiling to himself.

The title alone sent shivers through him. And though Lucifer was no longer in the spotlight, no longer a model, Adam knew that he had become something far greater in his world—a legend, an idea that couldn’t be pinned down by contracts or retirements.

He may not officially be part of the project, but Lucifer Morningstar would forever be intertwined with it, unofficially the beating heart of Adam’s vision.

As Adam walked home, his thoughts swirling like a storm, he couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself. He was both exhilarated and terrified—nervous beyond belief. But more than anything, he felt alive.

Adam was humming to himself, completely lost in thought as he turned the corner, eyes closed, a smile playing on his lips. The thrill of his new project still buzzed in his veins, making him giddy with excitement. He didn’t even notice the man stepping out of the nearby store until it was too late.

Crash.

They collided with a surprising force, sending both tumbling to the ground. Adam’s sketchpad and various materials scattered across the pavement, his precious painting slipping from his grasp and landing right in front of the stranger.

“Oh, man, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Adam babbled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he hurried to gather his things. He didn’t bother to look up at first, too busy trying to collect his scattered thoughts and belongings.

A soft grunt came from the man he had bumped into, and Adam heard him mutter something under his breath as he rubbed the back of his head. It wasn’t until Adam’s hand reached for the painting—only to find it already in someone else’s grasp—that he finally turned to face the person he had crashed into.

And froze.

The sight of him hit Adam like a tidal wave, stealing the breath right out of his lungs. Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar, the very man Adam had just been painting, was sitting there, staring intently at the artwork in his hands. His golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his brilliant blue eyes were framed by impossibly long lashes that only added to his ethereal beauty. Adam's mouth opened and closed, words escaping him, his heart hammering in his chest. His cheeks flamed crimson as he stuttered an incoherent apology, barely able to comprehend the situation.

“I—uh—I didn’t mean to…” Adam fumbled.

His pulse roaring in his ears, watching Lucifer’s expression for any sign of anger, but the retired model’s face remained impassive. Was he mad? Would he be upset that people were still sketching him even after all this time? Adam’s mind raced with anxiety, fearing the worst.

Lucifer blinked, his eyes softening as he turned his gaze from the painting to Adam.

“Did you make this?” His voice was smooth, calm, and utterly captivating.

Adam nodded, swallowing hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Y-yeah, I did.”

Lucifer hummed, his gaze returning to the painting, and for a moment, Adam could only stand there, breathless, as he watched the man take in every detail of his work.

"It's beautiful," Lucifer said softly, his voice warm but distant, as if lost in thought.

Adam blinked, utterly floored by the words.

“Excuse me?” he blurted out, disbelief creeping into his tone.

Lucifer’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles as he slowly got to his feet, the painting still in hand. He looked at it once more, turning it slightly in the sunlight, allowing the vibrant colors to dance on the canvas.

“I said it’s really good. I like it.” He then handed the painting back to Adam with a slow, deliberate motion. "I don’t usually like most designers’ interpretations of me."

Adam stood there, in awe, as he gingerly took the painting back. His fingers brushed against Lucifer’s as he did, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, couldn’t believe that Lucifer Morningstar—the legend—had just complimented his work.

“Do… do you really like it?” Adam asked in a hushed voice, still unsure if this was some sort of dream.

Lucifer chuckled softly, a low, velvety sound that sent shivers down Adam’s spine.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” he replied, his brilliant blue eyes meeting Adam’s. There was something in his gaze, something warm and genuine, that made Adam’s heart pound even harder.

Adam’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions—disbelief, joy, terror, and something else entirely that made his breath catch in his throat. He was standing face-to-face with Lucifer Morningstar, and the man was complimenting his art. The one figure that had inspired him more than anyone, the one he thought would never even glance his way, was standing here, admiring his work.

“I—I don’t know what to say…” Adam murmured, feeling his heart race. “I-I’m Adam.”

He looked up at Lucifer, who now seemed so much more than just a figure in his painting. He was real, tangible, and even more beautiful up close. There was something mesmerizing about him—an effortless grace, a magnetism that Adam couldn’t quite put into words. His presence was overwhelming, like standing in the presence of something otherworldly.

Lucifer smiled, a soft, almost tender expression that made Adam’s stomach flip.

“There’s nothing you need to say,” he said simply, stepping back with an easy elegance. “Just keep doing what you're doing.”

“I’ll see you around, Adam.”

Adam could hardly breathe as he watched Lucifer turn and walk away, the moment leaving him both shaken and exhilarated. His heart was still pounding in his chest, his thoughts swirling in every direction, but one thing was clear—this was just the beginning.

As he clutched the painting close to his chest, Adam felt something light up inside him, a spark of inspiration and courage he hadn’t felt in a long time. Lucifer’s words echoed in his mind, filling him with a sense of confidence he hadn’t known was possible.

Maybe—just maybe—he was on the right path after all.

Adam had been on cloud nine the rest of that evening, practically gliding home, his feet barely touching the ground. His lips were curled into a grin so wide it made him look like a meerkat basking in the sun. It was a kind of happiness he wasn’t sure he had ever felt before. Lucifer Morningstar had complimented his work—his painting! It was surreal, like something out of a dream. Adam hummed to himself, his heart light, hopeful that tomorrow would be just as good.

But it wasn’t.

The next day was an absolute disaster. Worse than anything he could have imagined. The seniors had him running around like a headless chicken, darting from one ridiculous task to another. He wasn’t pitching today—or all week, actually—so he’d been relegated to the role of the errand boy, pouring coffee and tea, fetching snacks for the seniors while the interns presented their ideas. Adam stood on the sidelines, watching as his friend made their pitch, and he saw the way the seniors’ faces pinched, how Sera’s lips curled in subtle disappointment. Everyone got feedback, but no one was taken to the next stage.

Adam’s heart sank for his friend, watching them deflate under the weight of rejection. He wanted to say something comforting, something to lift their spirits, but nothing seemed right.

For the rest of the week, Adam was the errand boy—every day, running around, fetching drinks and food. It was humiliating, but in some small way, a relief. Every time he sat down to work on his own pitch, his mind blanked. He couldn’t get anything onto paper. The creative high he'd been riding was now nothing more than a distant memory, washed away by the endless monotony of menial tasks.

Then came the day that everything truly fell apart.

Adam was rushing through the company garden, a large tray of lunches balanced precariously in his hands, when disaster struck. His foot caught on something, and with a yelp, he tripped forward, sending the entire tray of food flying. He crashed to the ground, covered in salads, sandwiches, and drinks, his face and clothes a mess of spilled liquids and sauce.

For a moment, he just lay there, stunned. The week had started so perfectly, and now it felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke on him. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as humiliation washed over him. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, someone crouched down beside him, and the bag that had fallen over his head was gently lifted.

"Are you alright?" came a deep, smooth voice filled with concern. "That looked like a nasty fall."

Adam’s eyes shot up, his breath catching in his throat. It was him. Lucifer Morningstar. Of all the people to find him in this state, it had to be Lucifer. Adam’s face turned beet red, his mouth opening and closing, words failing him completely. He could hardly think, let alone speak, as Lucifer’s piercing blue eyes locked onto his.

"I... I..." Adam stammered, utterly mortified.

Lucifer didn’t seem phased by Adam’s embarrassment. Instead, his expression softened, and without hesitation, he reached out a hand to help Adam up.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a gentle smile. “No one else saw.”

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, and though Lucifer’s reassurance was kind, it did little to ease the burning humiliation he felt. His vision blurred with unshed tears, and he could barely hold it together when a voice called his name.

Sera appeared, rushing over with concern written all over her face. "Adam! Are you okay? I saw what happened from upstairs!"

Adam was too flustered to respond, but Lucifer turned to her and said smoothly, “He had a bit of a rough fall. I think he might have smacked his chin.”

Sera’s eyes widened in alarm as she moved closer to Adam, her hands hovering as if she wanted to help. “Do you need to sit down? Should we call an ambulance?”

“No!” Adam’s voice cracked as he scrambled to assure them both. “I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

Sera frowned, her worry etched clearly in her expression. “Maybe you should take the rest of the day off. I’ve noticed how hard the seniors have been pushing you this week. A bit of time off might help you focus on your own pitch.”

Lucifer’s brow arched slightly at Sera’s comment, his gaze flickering between her and Adam. Adam, on the other hand, could only look down, his face growing hotter by the second.

Sera lingered for a moment before she nodded, giving Adam a soft smile. “Think about it, okay? Take care of yourself.” With that, she left the two of them alone, retreating back into the building.

Adam exhaled a long, shaky breath, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion and embarrassment. “I wonder who else saw that,” he muttered under his breath, his face still burning.

Lucifer’s gaze was steady as he reached out and gave Adam’s shoulder a gentle pat.

“It happens to everyone,” he said softly. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

His voice was calm, soothing, and for a brief moment, Adam felt the tension ease slightly from his body.

Before he could respond, Lucifer started guiding him toward the nearest bathroom. The walk was quiet, but not uncomfortable, the silence broken only by the rustling of leaves in the garden. Once inside, Lucifer helped Adam clean the mess from his clothes, his touch careful yet confident.

“On the bright side,” Lucifer said with a light chuckle, “at least you weren’t carrying hot liquids.”

Adam managed a small smile, but the embarrassment still clung to him. Lucifer seemed to sense his unease, his eyes softening as they continued their quiet work. After a few more minutes of wiping away food stains, Lucifer sat down beside Adam, their backs against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall.

“I was bullied when I first started out, you know,” Lucifer said casually, his voice breaking the silence.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, his gaze snapping to Lucifer. “You were?”

Lucifer smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, of course. I was this geeky, skinny brat from the Highlands. Thought I was better than everyone, and believe me, nobody liked me. For good reason.”

Adam blinked, taken aback by Lucifer’s honesty. He couldn’t imagine anyone bullying the elegant, confident man sitting next to him.

 “But... you’re Lucifer,” Adam said quietly, almost in disbelief.

Lucifer laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “I wasn’t always this Lucifer. It took time.”

He leaned back against the wall, his arm brushing lightly against Adam’s. “You know, you’re not the only one who’s been stuck as the errand boy.”

Adam frowned, glancing over at him. “You were?”

Lucifer nodded. “Oh, definitely. Had to run around, get everyone their coffee and food. The senior designers made sure of that.”

He shifted slightly, his hand brushing lightly against Adam’s knee in a way that felt deliberate. “But you’ll get through it. Just don’t let them get in your head.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the light touch, a strange warmth flooding his chest. “I just... I feel like I’m the only one they always stick with those jobs.”

Lucifer’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, his expression softening further.

“They’re testing you,” he said, his voice low. “Seeing how far they can push you.”

Adam sighed, the weight of the week pressing down on him.

“I thought you were retired,” he said, changing the subject, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Lucifer chuckled, his smirk returning. “I am.”

Adam blinked in confusion. “Then... why are you here?”

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he tilted his head. “What, I can’t miss the gardens?”

Adam’s cheeks flushed. “No! I mean, yes, of course you can! I didn’t mean it like that!” He stumbled over his words, panicking slightly as he worried about offending Lucifer.

Lucifer laughed again, a rich, melodic sound. “I’m just teasing you. I was actually invited back for a few meetings. They’re trying to get me to sign a new contract.”

Adam’s eyes widened in awe. “Are you going to do it? Another issue?”

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, his expression turning distant for a moment. “Probably not. For me to come out of retirement, it would have to be something... grand. Something I couldn’t say no to.”

Adam nodded, feeling a strange mix of admiration and curiosity. After a long pause, he asked in a quiet voice, “Why did you retire?”

Lucifer’s gaze darkened slightly as he looked at Adam, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I made a mistake,” he said softly, almost regretfully. “A mistake that led to some... bad things. For my own sake, I had to step away.”

Adam’s chest tightened, his heart aching at the pain in Lucifer’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Lucifer nudged him lightly with his shoulder, a soft grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t apologize for things that aren’t your fault.”

Adam smiled weakly, and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence again. After a while, Adam asked, “What were the designers like when you worked with them?”

Lucifer chuckled darkly, tapping his chin. “Predictable. After a while, I could tell what the next concept would be

Lucifer’s voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, as he leaned back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. Adam sat beside him, feeling both overwhelmed and strangely at ease in the intimate quiet of the moment. He listened closely as Lucifer spoke, his tone turning soft, reflective, as he shared his past experiences.

“You know,” Lucifer began, “it’s supposed to be a partnership. When the model likes your pitch, you present it to the higher-ups, and if they approve, it gets brought to the model you based it on. If the model likes it, you work together on it. If not, it goes to another model. Sort of a half-and-half deal.”

Adam nodded, absorbing every word. He could hardly believe he was sitting there, side by side with someone as legendary as Lucifer Morningstar, listening to his personal experiences. It felt surreal.

Lucifer’s voice took on a more thoughtful note.

“It really meant something to me when I liked a pitch,” he said quietly. “I remember being so eager, so excited to work with certain designers. But over time, it soured. Some of them became pushy, ignoring what I had to say. Sometimes I’d be shut down with nothing more than a wave of their hand, like my input didn’t matter. It infuriated me, to the point where there were certain designers I couldn’t work with anymore.”

Adam stared at Lucifer in awe, his mouth slightly agape, disbelief flooding his features. The idea of anyone shutting down Lucifer like that seemed absurd. He bristled with a flicker of anger on Lucifer’s behalf.

“That's awful,” Adam muttered, his voice tight with indignation.

Lucifer smiled warmly, a kind of tenderness in his expression.

“It’s alright now,” he said soothingly, his tone calming. “It doesn’t bother me anymore. But, yes, some designers were pretty pig-headed. They thought they knew best, but sometimes... I could just tell when something could be better, you know? And they wouldn’t listen.”

Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t get it,” he said, shaking his head. “If someone like you agreed to be their model—to work with them—it would be a dream come true. How could they think they knew better?”

He spoke with such sincerity, unaware of how passionately his words tumbled out until Lucifer turned to look at him, his eyes soft, a sweet smile playing on his lips.

“I would be beside myself if you liked my pitch,” Adam blurted, and then, realizing what he’d said, his face turned bright red. “I mean... I would listen to everything you said... I—I just mean, it’s... it’s common decency.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound warm and rich, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“You’re very sweet,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But, trust me, it’s not as common as you’d think.”

Adam’s blush deepened, and he glanced down, feeling his heart race in his chest. The warmth of Lucifer’s gaze made him feel both flustered and flattered, emotions mixing together until he couldn’t quite tell which was stronger.

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued.

“So, tell me,” he said, his voice soft and inviting. “What about your own pitch? You must be working on one, right?”

Adam shifted uncomfortably, his embarrassment now tinged with frustration.

“Yeah... I am,” he admitted, though his tone was far from confident.

Lucifer hummed, his gaze steady as he watched Adam. “How’s it coming along?”

A deep sigh escaped Adam, and he buried his face in his hands for a moment before groaning.

“It’s not,” he confessed. “I can’t even start it. I have an idea, but no concept. It’s just... stuck. I’m running out of time, and I don’t even know where to begin.”

Lucifer shifted closer to Adam, his presence warm and steady.

“Why don’t you tell me about it?” he suggested, his voice gentle, the words almost a caress. His hand brushed lightly along Adam’s arm, the touch sending a subtle shiver through him. “I’ve got plenty of time. I’d love to hear about your idea.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” he asked, chewing nervously on his bottom lip. Adam looked up, blinking in surprise. “Surely you have more important things to do.”

Lucifer smiled, a soft, reassuring smile that made Adam’s heart flutter.

“Nope,” he said, his tone light. “I’m completely free. These days, I’ve got so much free time, I never know what to do with it.”

Then his voice softened further, more intimate, as his fingers lightly grazed Adam’s arm again. “And besides... I’d really love to hear about your idea.”

The sincerity in Lucifer’s words, combined with the subtle, almost tender way he touched him, sent a warmth flooding through Adam. He smiled shyly, his heart pounding as he gathered his thoughts.

“Well...” Adam began, his voice a little shaky, “it’s not even a full idea. More like half of one.”

Lucifer nodded, encouraging him to continue, his expression one of patient interest.

Adam took a deep breath. “The idea... it came from you, actually.”

Lucifer blinked in surprise, his brows lifting slightly. “From me?” he echoed, intrigued.

“Yeah... You were in the garden, feeding the ducks,” he said, his voice growing quieter as he spoke. Adam nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up again. “I saw you from the third-floor window... You were eating an apple.”

Lucifer’s expression shifted, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to recall the moment. Slowly, he nodded. “I remember.”

Adam bit his lip, feeling nervous but determined to explain.

“The way the shadows of the trees fell across you... it made it look like you had wings,” he said softly, his heart racing as he spoke. “And that’s where the idea came from.”

Lucifer’s gaze sharpened, his eyes locking onto Adam’s with an intensity that made his breath catch.

“The painting,” he murmured, realization dawning in his voice.

Adam nodded again, feeling a little exposed but also strangely relieved. “Yeah. The painting.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt charged, thick with something unspoken. Lucifer’s eyes were fixed on Adam, his gaze soft and searching, and Adam found himself lost in the brilliant blue depths.

Then Lucifer smiled, slow and warm, his eyes gleaming with something Adam couldn’t quite place.

“You’ve got a good eye,” he said softly, his voice almost a purr. “That’s a beautiful concept.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse quickening at the praise. He wasn’t sure if it was the compliment or the way Lucifer looked at him—like he was truly seeing him—that made his chest tighten with emotion. All he knew was that, in that moment, he felt something shift between them, something deeper and more intimate than before.

Lucifer’s hand lingered on Adam’s arm, his fingers brushing lightly against his skin as he leaned in just a little closer.

“You’re more talented than you give yourself credit for,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, sending a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Adam swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, unable to tear his eyes away from Lucifer’s.

“Th-Thank you,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer’s smile deepened, and for a moment, Adam wondered if he could feel it too—the unspoken tension between them, the subtle pull drawing them closer.

“You’re welcome,” Lucifer said softly, his voice full of promise. “Now... tell me more about this idea.”

Lucifer’s warm chuckle filled the small, quiet space of the bathroom as Adam shyly admitted his inspiration.

“Well... when I saw you in the garden like that, it sorts of made me think of the Bible,” Adam said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He glanced at Lucifer, feeling both flustered and nervous.

“Oh?” Lucifer’s laughter was soft, almost melodic. “I can imagine.”

Adam’s cheeks flushed a little deeper, and he gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah... well, with your name being Lucifer and you looking like an angel, I couldn’t help but think of the Lucifer. You know, the one who became the King of Hell.”

Lucifer tilted his head, curiosity dancing in his brilliant blue eyes.

“Is that your pitch, then?” he asked, voice gentle and amused. “Something centred around the fallen angel from Eden?”

Adam quickly shook his head. “No, no—that’s more the lore. Not the pitch itself.”

“Lore?” Lucifer’s interest deepened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in, intrigued. “Go on, tell me more about this lore of yours.”

Adam hesitated for a moment, feeling both excited and nervous under Lucifer’s focused gaze. He took a breath and tried to explain. “Well... since you’re retired and I couldn’t exactly use you as a model, I thought I’d still use the idea of you. So... you’re the lore. The story behind the concept. The pitch is something about Heaven and Hell, set after Lucifer—uh, you—became the King of Hell.”

Lucifer’s expression softened as he listened, his blue eyes darkening slightly, a hooded look crossing his face as Adam’s words sank in. There was something in Lucifer’s gaze, something Adam didn’t quite understand, but it sent a flutter of nervous energy through him.

“And who’s your model, then?” Lucifer asked, his voice soft yet laced with curiosity.

Adam’s face brightened with enthusiasm, momentarily forgetting his nerves. “I wanted to do something different! Everyone in the department is so stuck on Lilith Leonhart. Every issue looks the same because they’re all using her, and I just... it’s not interesting anymore. So I looked into some of the less popular models.”

Lucifer’s eyes lit up with renewed interest, his curiosity piqued.

“Are you using them?” he asked, a note of excitement creeping into his voice.

Adam nodded, smiling brightly. “Yes! I want to use them as the focus for my pitch, to make the issue revolve around them—instead of using models to serve the issue. I want to highlight them.”

Lucifer’s blue eyes widened, truly fascinated now. The depth of his gaze made Adam’s heart skip a beat, and for a moment, Adam felt like he was the only person in the world as Lucifer focused on him.

“And what would the issue be about, then?” Lucifer asked, leaning closer, his eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

Adam’s enthusiasm faltered for a second, and he sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the wall. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the uncertainty that had been plaguing him for days.

“That’s where I’m stuck,” Adam admitted, his voice quiet and frustrated. “I don’t know what the theme and concept are yet. I’ve tried to write some, but none of them feel right.”

Lucifer seemed to understand immediately. He smiled softly, watching Adam with an almost tender expression.

“That’s where you’re stuck, isn’t it?” he said gently.

Adam nodded, his frustration palpable as he exhaled slowly. “Yeah... I’m stuck there.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened further, and he shifted closer to Adam, his presence warm and reassuring.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said in a low, comforting voice, lightly brushing his hand along Adam’s arm again. The touch was gentle, almost soothing, and it sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Adam looked over at Lucifer, his breath catching in his throat. There was something about the way Lucifer was watching him, the way his touch lingered just a little too long, that made Adam’s heart race.

“I... I don’t know,” Adam murmured, feeling the weight of Lucifer’s gaze on him. “Maybe I am...”

Lucifer’s smile deepened, his eyes never leaving Adam’s face.

“You’ve got the core of it already,” he said, his voice soft and encouraging. “You’ve got the models, the lore, and the passion. The rest will come.”

Adam’s chest tightened, not just from the weight of the project but from the sudden closeness between them. He could feel the warmth of Lucifer’s body next to his, the way their shoulders brushed, how Lucifer’s hand still rested lightly against his arm. It was enough to make his thoughts swirl.

Lucifer leaned in slightly, his breath warm against Adam’s ear as he whispered, “Tell me more about your idea. What’s the vision in your head?”

Adam swallowed hard, trying to focus, but it was difficult with Lucifer so close, with the way his voice sent shivers through him.

“It’s... it’s about redemption,” he said quietly, his voice a little shaky. “Fallen angels, like you—well, like the lore you. It’s about reclaiming what’s been lost... finding a way back to the light, even after you’ve fallen.”

Lucifer’s hand slid down Adam’s arm, his fingers grazing his wrist in a way that made Adam’s pulse quicken.

“That’s beautiful,” Lucifer murmured, his voice filled with admiration. “You’ve got a real heart for this, Adam. Don’t doubt yourself.”

Adam blushed, feeling his heart pound in his chest. Lucifer’s closeness, his gentle touch, and the way he spoke to him—it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“I don’t know how to make it all work yet,” Adam whispered, his gaze dropping to where Lucifer’s hand now rested against his. “I feel like I’m so far behind everyone else.”

Lucifer’s fingers curled slightly around Adam’s hand, and he gently lifted Adam’s chin with his other hand, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“You’re not behind,” Lucifer said softly, his voice low and intimate. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. Adam felt like he was falling into those brilliant blue eyes, lost in the warmth and intensity of Lucifer’s gaze. He swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks burn as Lucifer’s fingers lingered on his skin, the touch electrifying.

“Thank you,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible.

Lucifer smiled—a slow, soft smile that made Adam’s heart flutter.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. “Just... believe in yourself, Adam. You’re more than capable of making this work. I can see it in you.”

Adam nodded slowly, his breath hitching slightly as Lucifer’s fingers lightly traced the back of his hand. He couldn’t quite process everything that was happening—Lucifer’s encouragement, his closeness, the way he made Adam feel like he was the only person that mattered.

Lucifer’s smile deepened, his eyes gleaming with something warm and unreadable.

“I think you’re going to surprise yourself,” he said softly, his voice full of promise.

Adam’s heart swelled with emotion, the weight of Lucifer’s words filling him with a quiet confidence he hadn’t felt in days. And as they sat there, close and connected in the dim light, Adam realized something else—he was falling for Lucifer, and maybe, just maybe, Lucifer was falling for him too.

Adam couldn’t believe it—surprise himself, he did. Spending the day with the Lucifer Morningstar had felt like an impossible dream, something he’d never forget. He had been so close, so intimate with the retired model, and the thrill of it lingered in his veins as he made his way home. He had assumed nothing could top that feeling. But then, it happened.

It came out of nowhere, like a sudden flash of lightning on a clear day. Adam was wandering along the quiet streets, lost in thought, when his eyes drifted toward the abandoned theatre. He crossed the road, glancing over at the crumbling building, when he saw them—a father and his daughter standing outside. The father was animated, speaking excitedly to the little girl, who seemed to vibrate with joy. As the moments passed, their laughter grew louder, the father eventually lifting her into his arms and spinning her around in pure delight. Their laughter echoed through the air like music, tugging at something deep inside Adam.

A daughter.

The idea hit him with such force that Adam nearly stumbled. His heart raced as he stood frozen on the street, staring at the joyful scene. Lucifer should have had a daughter. That’s who the issue would center around—the Princess of Hell, Lucifer’s daughter, who was determined to fulfill her father’s old, broken dreams of redeeming the sinful souls of humanity. The concept burned through him, igniting his imagination with such clarity that he gasped aloud.

His feet moved before his mind could catch up. Practically bouncing with excitement, Adam raced back to his tiny flat, his breath coming in short bursts as he climbed the stairs two at a time. Once inside, he didn’t even pause to catch his breath. He swept everything off his desk in one motion, grabbed his sketchbook, and flipped to an empty page. His hands trembled with anticipation as he thumbed through the various models he’d clipped into his notebook—hazbin models, ones no one else seemed to notice.

His gaze landed on Charlotte Haz, and he froze.

Charlotte Haz... the rumours about her flashed in his mind—the whispers that she could have been Michael’s daughter when she first debuted, even though it was impossible. If Michael had a daughter, he would’ve been twelve at the time. But still... the resemblance between her and Lucifer was uncanny. The sharp angles of her face, the intensity of her gaze—everything about her screamed of Lucifer’s lineage. Her last name too—Haz. It was as if the universe had already written the story for him. Charlotte would be the star, the heart of the issue.

The Princess of Hell. Lucifer’s daughter.

Excitement coursed through Adam as he began to unpack his supplies, grabbing a pencil and lightly sketching out Charlotte’s features. But something nagged at him, and he paused, frowning in thought. She wouldn’t look completely human, would she? Not if she were a demon now. A half-human, half-angel hybrid... yes, that was it. Lucifer was a fallen angel, so his daughter would carry both the heavenly and infernal traits.

His mind raced with possibilities. She would still be beautiful, of course, but with demonic features—goat hooves, curling horns, a sleek tail, claws—yet she would still maintain that ethereal, humanoid beauty.

Gasping in realization, Adam’s pencil flew across the page, sketching Charlotte in her full demonic glory. His excitement grew with each stroke of his pencil. He drew her over and over again, experimenting with different styles, until finally, he settled on the perfect version of her.

Long, dark hair braided back, with strikingly familiar reddish cheeks, claws, and hooves. But her eyes—her eyes were what captivated him most. In real life, Charlotte’s eyes were a vivid green, but that felt too human for what he envisioned. She needed to stand out, to embody the power of Hell. With careful, delicate fingers, Adam reached for his mother’s watercolours, mixing shades of fiery red and molten gold, and painted her eyes. When he finished, a chill ran through him. The way those eyes gleamed on the page, so similar to Lucifer’s yet uniquely her own—it was perfect. Almost too perfect.

Adam leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the demonic beauty he had brought to life. But then another question stirred in his mind: How would she redeem humanity? What was her purpose, her mission? It had to be something Lucifer had attempted, something he had failed at.

His thoughts drifted back to the theatre, to how much he had admired the old grandeur of it. That’s when another idea struck—what if she ran a theatre? Or better yet, a hotel within a theatre, a sanctuary for lost souls. The Hazbin Hotel. The image formed in his mind, clearer than ever. A place where damned souls came to seek redemption, a last chance to claw their way back from Hell.

Adam grinned, already sketching Charlotte again—this time, in a hotel hostess outfit. He gave her red pants, a crisp white dress shirt, and a matching blazer, with a black ribbon tied around her neck. She looked perfect, exuding both elegance and strength, her demonic features only adding to her allure.

This is it, he thought, staring at her. This is the Princess of Hell, Charlie, who runs her Hazbin Hotel in hopes of redeeming souls.

His gaze swept over the pages filled with other ‘hazbin’ models, each one unique in their own way. Some would be residents of the hotel, forced to be there by fate or circumstance. Others would come willingly, seeking redemption or a second chance. Each of them would have their own style, their own story, their own struggle.

Adam smiled to himself, feeling a rush of satisfaction and pride. He had done it. He had created something entirely new, something that felt alive. Charlie, the Princess of Hell, and her hotel for the damned—her mission to redeem lost souls, picking up where her father left off. And as the excitement of his creation settled into something warm and satisfying, Adam couldn’t help but think of Lucifer again—how the model had been at the heart of this all, inspiring every detail.

And deep down, Adam wondered if Lucifer would be proud.

The day Adam had both eagerly anticipated and dreaded finally dawned, leaving him feeling half-dead and utterly frazzled. For three relentless days, he had poured every ounce of his creativity into his work, meticulously assembling a dazzling array of assets, designs, and models that shimmered with vibrant life. As he stood in his studio, his heart raced like a wild stallion, his skin tingling with anticipation, and his hair standing on end, electric with excitement.

His eyes swept across the breathtaking spread before him, each model a masterpiece that reflected a style so unique it felt like a glimpse into a world he had only dreamed of. But it was the finalized artwork of Lucifer that captivated him the most. In that moment, Adam couldn’t help but lose himself in the mesmerizing image of the King of Hell, resplendent in his pristine white suit, a jaunty top hat perched atop his head, and a whimsical apple cane gripped in his hand. Lucifer’s sharp-toothed grin radiated mischief and charm, and as Adam stared, a warm flush crept across his cheeks. He had to look away, shaking his head in disbelief—only he could find his own artwork so alluring.

Gathering his scattered thoughts, Adam rubbed his face and meticulously packed his creations, securing each piece with a protective embrace. But then, he caught sight of the clock, and a horrified squeal escaped his lips; he was five minutes late! Panic surged through him, and he darted around his flat like a headless chicken, collecting his belongings and racing toward the company building.

His heart thundered in his chest, pounding like a drum as he arrived just in time to see Lucifer entering the building. The sight was mesmerizing; it felt as if time had slowed, the world around him fading into a soft blur. With a twinkle of mischief in his eye, Lucifer greeted him, a delightful laugh escaping his lips.

“Someone seems happy,” he teased, his smile sweet and inviting.

Adam’s heart soared at the sight of him, a radiant warmth enveloping him like a soft blanket.

“I’m so sorry! I can’t chat—I’m late for my pitch!” he exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. “Wish me luck!”

But before Adam could turn to flee, Lucifer's fingers wrapped around his arm, gently pulling him back. With a playful glint in his eyes, he leaned in and pressed his soft lips to Adam’s cheek, whispering a melodious, “Good luck~”

That sent shivers racing down Adam’s spine. Stepping back with an air of smug satisfaction, Lucifer chuckled as Adam blinked in a daze, his cheeks burning hotter than the fiery depths of Hell.

“Y-you’re right! I’m late!” Adam gasped, suddenly jolted back to reality. Lucifer nodded, a teasing smile still dancing on his lips. “You should probably get going then.”

With a startled squeal, Adam spun on his heels, his heart racing as he began to run. But then, an audacious thought flickered through his mind, and he stopped in his tracks, turning back to face Lucifer once more. Gathering all his courage, he bravely pressed a gentle kiss to Lucifer’s cheek, his heart fluttering with vulnerability.

“Thank you for believing in me. I probably wouldn’t have made it to the pitch without your support.”

Lucifer’s blue eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks blooming with a rosy hue that matched Adam’s own.

“Adam, you’re late!” he exclaimed, the words tumbling out in a rush.

With a startled gasp, Adam shot off, leaving Lucifer standing there, his heart racing as he shyly touched his cheek where Adam had kissed him. A tender smile spread across his lips, the warmth of their brief connection enveloping him like a cherished secret, promising a future filled with laughter, creativity, and perhaps, love.

Adam stepped into the pitch room, a chill running down his spine as his eyes met the intimidating line of senior designers seated before him. The room felt heavy with judgment, their eyes scanning him with the precision of a thousand needles. He swallowed nervously, shuffling his feet as the weight of their stares pressed down on him.

"I—I'm sorry for being late," he muttered, sheepishly offering an apologetic smile.

His gaze flickered over to Sera, one of the more approachable seniors, who smiled at him warmly, offering a silent encouragement. That small gesture was enough to settle him, if only a little. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm inside him as he clumsily set up his presentation.

With shaking hands, Adam began, flipping up his first artwork—Lucifer as an archangel, bathed in a soft, radiant light, majestic and untainted.

“The core of my concept is the balance between Heaven and Hell,” he explained, his voice wavering. “Redemption. Souls being given a second chance at Heaven.”

His throat felt dry, and his hands trembled as he unveiled his next set of models, each one meticulously crafted. A deep breath. Focus. “This,” Adam gestured to his painting of Charlotte, her dark, angular features contrasting with her father’s sinister charm, “is Charlotte, the central figure. She’s the daughter of Lucifer and runs a hotel where sinners—those condemned to Hell—are offered a second chance at redemption.”

The room felt suffocating as he continued, explaining how each model represented different residents of the hotel, each with their own unique style and story. The words came out unevenly at first, shaky and stuttering, but the more he talked about his creations, the more his passion bled through.

When he finally finished, silence followed. It was broken by the harsh, slicing questions from the seniors.

"Why such a complicated concept?" one asked, their tone cutting like glass.

Adam hesitated, his mind scrambling for the right words. “I… I don’t think Heaven and Hell is that complicated. It’s a well-known idea in media, something people understand. But I wanted to explore it differently—through the lens of second chances of redemption.”

The next question was sharper, as if testing his resolve. “Why choose Charlotte Haz as the main model? Why not someone more prominent like Lilith Leonhart?”

Adam stammered, his voice faltering, unsure how to defend his choice. But before he could reply, the door at the back of the room creaked open, and in slipped Lucifer, as effortlessly composed as always. His blonde hair gleamed under the harsh lights, his sharp, cobalt eyes finding Adam in the crowd. Lucifer’s smile, soft and reassuring, washed over him, and instantly, the weight of anxiety lifted from Adam’s chest.

He drew in a breath, steadied by that glance, and turned back to the senior.

“Lilith is overused,” Adam said with newfound confidence. “I wanted someone new, someone fresh. Charlotte isn’t well-known, and that’s exactly the point. The audience will be intrigued by her because she’s different, unpredictable. They’ll want to come back to learn more about her.”

The seniors leaned in, more interested now. Adam pressed on, explaining that his models were meant to be outcasts, unfamiliar to the public, so that their stories would captivate in ways the more conventional characters couldn’t. Another senior frowned, crossing their arms.

"And the colours—red and purple?" they asked with a slight sneer. "They’re too harsh. Why choose those?"

“Red and purple have meaning,” Adam said, feeling strength in his explanation. “Lucifer’s story is about falling due to pride—purple is the colour of pride. Red represents passion, both destructive and transformative. These are the central themes of the project, and I want the audience to feel them in the designs.”

Another senior, this one fidgeting, asked, “And the fashionable outfits? They’re… bold.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to his paintings. “Every model has their own style, their own sense of identity. I didn’t want them to look the same, because they’re not the same. They’re individuals, each with their own journey to redemption, or failure. That’s what makes them real.”

The room quieted as the seniors muttered amongst themselves, their expressions hard to read. Adam’s heart pounded painfully in his chest as he twisted his fingers together, nerves biting at him like cold wind. Had he failed? Was it not enough?

And then Sera spoke, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “I like it.”

Immediately, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to her. Adam’s heart soared.

“It’s different,” she continued, her tone thoughtful, yet warm. “It’s fresh. It’s not like anything we’ve seen before, and it’ll give the project a new edge. It’ll make people think.”

One of the other seniors frowned, crossing their arms. “Sure, it’s different, but the models might be overlooked. A concept like this needs someone with more… relevance.”

Adam’s stomach sank, knowing exactly who they wanted. Lilith. He clenched his fists, not wanting to give up on Charlotte. She was perfect. She was his vision of redemption.

But then, from the back of the room, a voice smooth as silk cut through the tension. “Well, I like it the way it is, too.”

Heads whipped around, eyes wide with shock. Lucifer stood, his arms crossed, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Sera’s eyes widened in surprise. “And how much do you like it?”

Lucifer’s smirk widened as he tilted his head, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “Enough to come out of retirement for.”

The room erupted in disbelief. The seniors gawked, their jaws nearly dropping. Sera, looking amused, turned to the senior who had been complaining earlier.

“Would Lucifer Morningstar be relevant enough for you?” she asked, her voice dripping with victory.

The senior flushed, stumbling over their words as they nodded furiously, unable to argue.

Adam’s heart raced as he met Lucifer’s gaze across the room. Everything else became background noise as the others began talking rapidly, making plans to take his pitch to the higher-ups. All Adam could see was Lucifer, who gave him a warm, knowing smile.

It was really good, Lucifer mouthed.

Adam blushed deeply, smiling back, his lips silently forming a grateful, "Thank you."

In that moment, he felt like he could conquer anything.

Two full months had swept by like a whirlwind, leaving Adam breathless and in awe. Everything had happened so fast, it felt like a dream he had yet to fully wake from. After the higher-ups heard his pitch, the green light came almost immediately—and Adam knew Lucifer’s involvement had been the key to tipping the scales in his favor. Lucifer coming out of retirement for this project? It had sent shockwaves through the industry, giving the whole thing a sparkle of prestige and a sense of gravity Adam hadn’t expected.

He remembered that day vividly, when all the Hazbin models gathered around, eyes wide, waiting to hear what was next. Adam could see the disbelief in their faces as he and Sera explained the concept. Charlotte, in particular, had looked utterly shocked. Her pale face and wide eyes held uncertainty as she hesitated to believe she was being considered for such a pivotal role.

She had even asked, her voice quivering, “Are you sure you want me?”

Without hesitation, Adam had exclaimed, “Yes! I want all of you!”

His enthusiasm was contagious, and it wasn’t long before the models shared excited looks and agreed to sign on. The contracts were inked in a flurry of excitement, and Adam was left feeling dizzy from how quickly things were moving. What had begun as a stylish, playful spread of colors and characters had spiraled into something so much bigger than anyone had anticipated.

And then there was Lucifer. His mere presence had electrified the entire project, boosting their ratings and igniting a wave of interest that no one could have foreseen. Soon, people were talking about not just fashion spreads, but TV series, movies, books, even video games. Adam could hardly keep up with the endless meetings. It seemed like every other day, he was being pulled into another room to discuss the future of Hazbin. One day, overwhelmed, he had turned to Sera and asked why everyone kept requesting him for these meetings.

Sera had blinked in surprise before softly explaining, “Adam, you own Hazbin Hotel. No one can just use its concept. The company is here to help you develop it.”

“Oh,” was all Adam had managed to say at the time, the reality of it sinking in slowly.

He hadn’t fully realized that this creation of his—this little passion project—was now something so vast and powerful, with limitless potential. And suddenly, everyone wanted him to expand it, to bring this world of Heaven and Hell to life in ways he had never even considered.

But amidst the chaos and pressure, Adam found peace in the models he’d worked so hard to bring together. Vagatha Luna, with her sharp, mysterious beauty, carried an air of quiet power, while Husker Card, with his brooding, intense gaze, brought an edge to every shot. Anthony Dust, with his playful smirk, challenged every convention, and then there was Alastor Shot, with his wild, unruly hair and vintage style that screamed of old-fashioned charm yet somehow worked perfectly within the bold, modern spread. And of course, Charlotte Haz. She was the glue that held it all together, her elegant portrayal of Lucifer’s daughter, the princess of Hell, elevating her to new heights of fame.

The father-daughter dynamic between Lucifer and Charlotte became iconic. The spreads of them together—Lucifer with his devilish smirk, Charlotte with her soft yet determined expression—captivated audiences. Their story gripped the hearts of fans, and soon, Charlotte suggested something that took their work to an even more touching level.

“Why not use my little sister, Hazel, to play a younger version of me?” she had said with a smile.

The idea was an instant hit. Adorable photoshoots of Lucifer and a six-year-old Charlie—Hazel playing her role with innocent sweetness—went viral. Fans ate it up, and it wasn’t long before the love for Hazbin exploded even further. The company, in response, dedicated ten full pages of its monthly publication solely to Adam’s Hazbin project—a move that was unprecedented but well-deserved. It gave Adam room to expand the characters’ backstories, to play with their dynamics in ways he hadn’t been able to before.

One of his favorite developments was the relationship between Charlotte and Vagatha. Adam had always thought they would make a compelling couple, and as he fleshed out their connection, it just worked. Vagatha—whom Adam had reimagined as a fallen angel—was hesitant at first, nervous about taking on a more prominent role. But she embraced the challenge, and soon, Charlotte and Vagatha’s bond became a centerpiece that fans adored.

And then there was Alastor, whose popularity surged beyond anything Adam had expected. Alastor’s idea to speak with a radio-static voice—a charming nod to an older era—became his signature, and Adam loved it. They even gave him a radio staff to carry as part of his character, and it became an iconic prop that fans instantly associated with him.

Angel Dust and Husker, too, found their own following. Adam found himself especially drawn to their dynamic, the chemistry between them palpable in every shoot. As Hazbin continued to grow, the company began suggesting new characters, more models to add to the expanding universe.

Through it all, Lucifer was by his side, quietly supporting Adam in ways that went beyond words. Late nights in the studio, reviewing character designs and storylines, were made sweeter by Lucifer’s presence. There was something comforting about the way he would sit beside Adam, casually leaning in to offer an opinion or teasing him with that ever-present smirk. And when the work became overwhelming, Lucifer had a way of calming him, his mere presence a reminder that Adam didn’t have to do it all alone.

"Purple isn't really my colour."

A sudden voice chimed in, cutting through Adam's swirling thoughts like a warm breeze. He blinked and turned, finding Lilith standing beside him, her figure both commanding and graceful. His face lit up immediately, beaming at her presence.

Lilith’s sharp blue eyes flicked down to the watercolour paintings Adam had carefully arranged on the table. He had been working tirelessly on these pieces for her, hoping to entice her into joining the Hazbin project. Now, six months in, the project had blossomed into something far beyond his original vision, and they were ready to add some of the most iconic faces into the mix—characters who would serve as powerful side players but would become integral in the years to come. Lilith wouldn’t make her debut right away, but when she did, it would be alongside other legendary figures like Eve, Lute, and countless more. The future felt electric with possibility.

Adam glanced down at the paintings again, feeling a surge of nervous pride. Lilith, the queen of seduction and darkness, draped in rich purples and blacks, her horned crown casting a shadow as regal as her presence. Her long, elegant dress shimmered in shades of amethyst, her gloves stretching up to her elbows, delicately concealing the claws that hinted at her fierce power.

“I wanted to try something a little different,” Adam explained, his voice soft but eager. “I know people usually don’t associate you with purple, but I thought... maybe this could be an exception. A twist on tradition.”

Lilith hummed thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on every detail of the artwork. She studied the sharpness of the horns, the fluidity of the dress, the subtle, hidden power the design implied. There was a contemplative silence as she weighed it all, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, her eyes lifted, meeting Adam's.

“Are you sure you want me to join?” she asked, her voice gentle but carrying an edge of vulnerability that Adam hadn’t expected.

Adam blinked, surprised by the question. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? Is something bothering you about the role?”

Lilith shook her head, a small, rueful smile playing on her lips. “No, no. I love the role. It’s perfect for me, really.”

She paused, her gaze drifting back to the paintings. “I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Adam’s heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of admiration. Disappoint? He almost laughed at the thought, but instead, he let out a soft gasp, eyes wide with awe.

“Lilith, you could never disappoint anyone. You’re... you’re incredible! You’re a brilliant model, and I’m so excited to have you as part of this. I mean it. The project wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Her smile softened, warmth flickering in her eyes as she looked back at him. “You’re too kind, Adam.”

There was something almost tender in the way she said it, like she was letting down her guard just for a moment. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

Adam couldn’t contain his excitement, his entire face lighting up as he grinned at her.

“Neither can I! Does that mean you accept?” His voice was eager, almost childlike in its enthusiasm.

Lilith chuckled softly, a melodic sound that danced through the air. “Yes, Adam. I accept the role.”

Adam’s heart soared. He cheered softly in relief, his entire body relaxing as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, Lilith! This is going to be amazing.”

She smiled warmly at him, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer before nodding. “I think so too.”

As she walked away, her presence still lingering in the air like a sweet perfume, Adam found himself glowing with pride. Every piece of the puzzle was falling into place.

Later that evening, Adam found himself back in his studio, surrounded by sketches and designs, his mind buzzing with excitement. But this time, he wasn’t alone. Lucifer stood behind him, leaning casually against the desk, watching Adam work with a fond, almost amused expression.

“You’re going to wear yourself out,” Lucifer teased softly, his voice like velvet as it filled the room.

Adam looked up from his drawings, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of Lucifer’s easy smile. He couldn’t help but grin back, a blush creeping up his neck. “I’m fine. Besides, there’s still so much to do.”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a smirk as he moved closer, his hand resting gently on Adam’s shoulder.

“You’ve done more than enough for one night.” His fingers traced delicate patterns on Adam’s arm, sending a shiver of warmth through him. “How about we take a break?”

Adam tilted his head up, meeting Lucifer’s gaze. The way those piercing blue eyes stared into his own, like they were seeing right through him, always made his heart race.

“A break?” he asked softly, though a teasing smile was playing on his lips. “And what would we do on this break?”

Lucifer leaned in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s cheek, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I can think of a few things...”

Adam felt the heat rush to his face as Lucifer’s lips brushed his ear, sending a thrill down his spine. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this little universe they had created together. It was in moments like this that Adam realized just how much had changed since the day Lucifer first walked into his life.

They were partners in every sense of the word now. From the dazzling world of Hazbin to the quiet, intimate moments they shared late at night.

Adam looked up at Lucifer, his eyes softening as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” Adam murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. “For everything. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Lucifer’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he wrapped his arms around Adam, pulling him close.

“You did this all on your own. I just... gave you a little push.” His voice was warm and affectionate, the teasing edge replaced with something deeper.

A soft gasp escaped Adam as Lucifer shifted himself onto his lap, his fingers tracing along Adam’s shoulders. Adam meet Lucifer’s eyes, watching shyly as Lucifer began to rotate his hips. Grinding their hips together, making sure their hardening cocks beginning to rub together through their pants.

Leaning in close, Lucifer licked at Adam’s lips. He soft tongue tracing Adam’s soft lips until he parted them and his tongue slipped inside, meeting Adam’s.

“Have I ever told you…” Lucifer whispered, running his hands down Adam’s body. He rubbed his chest, traced his stomach and finally, slipped his fingers along Adam’s thighs. “I really love your thighs.”

“Um, no.” Adam said. “Don’t think you’ve ever mentioned my thighs before.”

Chuckling, Lucifer snipped at Adam’s chin and throat. He shifted himself off Adam’s lap, pushing his thighs over his and pressing down harshly with his hips. He purrs as Adam let out a delightful moan.

“I think they’re my second favourite part of you.”

“Second?” Adam laughed, cupping his lover’s face. “And what’s your first favourite?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lucifer asked lovingly, leaning forward to kiss him again. “Your mind. Your brain. I love what you make. I love what you can think up.”

The two began to kiss again, Lucifer beginning to rub his hips firmly against Adam’s. His fingers pulling at Adam’s t-shirt, pushing it up so he could touch the warm flesh. A shiver ran through Adam as he traced his fingers along the soft curve of his back.

“Adam, can we try something new?” he asked.

A hum escaped Adam. “Always.”

“I want…” Lucifer pulled back to meet Adam’s eyes. “I want to thigh fuck you.”

Adam stared. His mind fuzzy.

“What?”

A sharp grin spread across Lucifer’s face, a grin that sent a familiar, exhilarating shiver down Adam’s spine. It was a look Adam had come to know well—too well, in fact. Lucifer seemed to be merging with the very character Adam had painted him as, slipping between the lines of reality and fiction with an unsettling ease. His smile, wide and gleaming, carried all the same energy he embodied as the King of Hell—dazzling, dangerous, and impossibly charming.

Even without the costume or the fake sharp teeth, the effect was the same. His pearly whites gleamed with a hint of mischief, the smile teetering on the edge of intimidation. It was a look that could both seduce and terrify, depending on who was on the receiving end. Adam, sitting there under the weight of that smile, felt his heart skip a beat. He swallowed, unsure whether to laugh or shudder.

“You’re doing it again,” Adam murmured, his voice half-amused, half-nervous as he playfully narrowed his eyes at Lucifer.

Lucifer tilted his head, arching a brow in mock innocence.

“Doing what?” he asked, though his voice carried that telltale lilt, low and smooth, like a purr.

“That grin,” Adam said, pointing at him with a small, nervous laugh. “You look just like him—the King of Hell. Sometimes I can’t tell if you’re joking or if you’ve really become him.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound rich and velvety, sending another wave of heat through Adam.

“Maybe I have,” he said with a wink, stepping closer, his presence intoxicating.

“Or maybe I’m just giving you what you wanted, hmm? The devilish charm you so meticulously designed.” His finger gently lifted Adam’s chin, bringing their faces close enough for Adam to feel Lucifer’s breath warm against his skin.

Adam’s blush deepened, though he kept his composure, his pulse racing in his ears.

“Well, it’s a little unnerving when the devil in my head starts standing in front of me,” he teased, though his voice wavered slightly under Lucifer’s gaze.

Lucifer’s grin softened, becoming less menacing and more affectionate, though the spark of danger never entirely left his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone softer now, though still steeped in mischief. “I’m still me. Your Lucifer, not the one in the paintings.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat at those words—your Lucifer.

It was in moments like this, when the playfulness gave way to something more sincere, that Adam felt the full weight of their connection. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten here, in this strange whirlwind where reality and fantasy blurred so effortlessly. But in Lucifer’s arms, he didn’t mind. There was a warmth, a safety, even in the chaos.

Lucifer leaned in, his lips brushing against Adam’s, not quite a kiss, but a promise of one.

“Besides,” he added with a smirk, pulling back just slightly, “It’s you who brought the devil to life. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

Adam chuckled, though his voice was breathless. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Adam,” Lucifer teased, his eyes gleaming playfully. “You might just get more than you bargained for.”

Adam’s heart raced, but he smiled, leaning into Lucifer’s touch. “I think I’m okay with that.”

"Now." Lucifer purred, beginning to strip Adam of his clothes. "Let me show you what I really want from you~"

And that was how Adam later found himself naked, on his knees with Lucifer behind him. A sharp gasp escaped Adam, his green eyes watering as his body jolted back against Lucifer's much warmer body. His blonde haired lover's arms held him against his body, with his hard cock pushed between Adam's thigh and rubbing without mercy against the bottom of Adam's.

"Aw, you're so stressed~" Lucifer cooed, flashing that same grin again. "Let me help with that~"

"Oh god!" Adam gasped, Lucifer's hold on him tightening and snapping his hips even harsher. "You really are the devil in disguise."

Lucifer grinned at that.

[freesia-writes]

Ch 6: Hikes and Hurts

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 3.2k

Hunter took a deep breath, pausing on the path as it wove its way across the cliffs of the island. Far below, the waves crashed against the shore, an ethereal mist rising to join the early morning fog that drifted equally across land and sea. A few fishing boats dotted the horizon, the creaking sounds of wood-hewn ships long lost in the distance and drowned out by the roar of the ocean. A river trickled down the cliffs, weaving its way down from the forest above and plummeting relentlessly toward the tumult below. 

Quiet sounds of cows and fathiers grazing and milling about on the hills above reached his ears. The air was crisp, and the distinct chill of the change in seasons had required Hunter to adopt a layer more than usual. He cupped his hands in front of his mouth, blowing hot air against icy fingers as he idly sorted through the myriad of scents that he could discern. Salty water, fragrant evergreens, dewy grass… the musky smells of various creatures… the hint of smoke from well-stoked hearths in the village to the west. 

He picked up something different suddenly – a soft, clean scent that he could only describe as floral linen. Chuckling dryly to himself and vowing to watch less trash holo with Omega, who had recently taken a liking to cheesy romantic adventure films, he turned from the vista point to scan the area. A large, hooded bundle was trundling toward the river, pausing here and there to bend over and inspect the ground before continuing on. When the bundle reached the river’s edge, which was a series of large, flat rocks full of pockets and spaces that gave the image of tide pools, it crouched all the way down and began picking around the shore. Curious and surprisingly defensive at someone else’s encroachment of this beautiful, peaceful space that he’d come to believe only he was privy to, Hunter tucked his hands into the pockets of his thick cloak and headed over to investigate. 

He was certain the bundle was human, judging by the gait and build, but he wondered what had drawn one of the locals out so early and so far. They didn’t often venture into The Forest (aptly named, he mused) but rather contented themselves on the western side of the island where it was full of meadows, hills, and a sense of community. He was a few feet away when he came to a halt, his approach concealed by the roaring river. 

“Looking for something?” he asked, raising his voice above the rushing water. 

The squawk that came from the bundle made him question if it really was human, and with one clumsy motion, it toppled onto its side, arms and legs flailing everywhere on the way. Hunter startled in response, backing up a few steps and raising his hands in front of him as the bundle scrambled to right itself. 

“Whoa, whoa… Sorry! You alright?” 

“Hunter?!” came a gasp, a slightly squeaky lilt in a familiar husky voice. “What the–” The words dissolved into grumbles as sand and rocks were brushed off and the figure rose to its feet, turning to face him. Beneath the hood he could see the center of Lyra’s face, and he nearly laughed out loud in equal parts surprise and mockery for her entirely unmeasured reaction. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said carefully, lips pressed in a firm line. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else, instead taking in her appearance head to toe. She must have been wearing layer upon layer of clothing, all covered by some kind of head-to-toe suit that he imagined was to keep out the wind and rain. It created a comically shapeless result, with boots poking out the bottom and a hooded head that looked small compared to the rest. “What… uh… Whatcha doin?” 

“You…” Lyra took a ragged breath, her arms lifting at her sides with the inflation of her lungs and lowering again as she blew it out in an attempt to calm down. “You scared the kark out of me,” she said, so quietly and conspiratorially that he almost couldn’t hear. He looked around, wondering if there were others nearby, but he hadn’t sensed anything. “I like to come out here on walks,” she continued, doing her best to speak normally but still sounding undeniably tight. “Neat stuff washes up on the banks, especially this time of year, and I thought I saw a piece of tumbled glass… before you robbed me of my dignity.”

Now Hunter did laugh, dipping his head in contrition before sneaking his eyes back up to hers, at least what little he could see beneath the thick layers. “I’m sorry… I guess I owe you a piece of… tumbled glass?”

“Yes, you do,” she answered pertly, shifting on her feet and wrapping her arms around herself. “What are you doing out here?”

“Taking the long way back from hunting.”

“Does the meat just walk itself to your shop?” she asked, tilting her head at his hands.

“Heh. I wish. Nothing today. Something’s a little off with the herds; I have no idea what.”

“Hmm. Well I’m sorry you came up empty-handed, although I imagine that’s just part of the job sometimes.”

“Yep.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. The early morning sun was just beginning to peek over the tops of the mountains above, sending inquisitive beams through the boughs of the trees and beginning to chase the dense fog back toward the sea. Hunter returned his hands to his pockets, trying to think of the best thing to say to excuse himself back on his way. 

“It might have something to do with the lunar festival?” Lyra offered, catching him off guard.

“What might?”

“The animals being weird…The moons are only full at the same time once a year, and some of the locals swear it affects everything on the island.”

“How?” was all he could muster, although he’d seen and heard of far stranger things in his travels across planets of virtually every size and setup. 

“I have no idea,” she shrugged, gazing off toward the sea for a moment. “But,” she continued, leaning toward him with a slightly dramatic air, “Last year around this time, my bread loaf wouldn’t rise. So they might be onto something.” 

He stared at her in response, unable to discern if this was deadpan, factual delivery, or some kind of attempt at wit. A small sigh from beneath the hood gave him a hint, and Lyra dropped her own head, mumbling something under her breath that even he couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” he asked, hoping it was something about having to be on her way.

“I said… Geez…” she paused, as though giving herself a hard time for her own delivery, “I said it’s hard to be funny under all these layers.”

“Yeah, what is all that for?” Hunter asked, trying to ignore his own wondering if her attempt at a joke would have been funny even without the excessive clothing. “You look like you’re ready to be rolled down a hill…”

Lyra laughed at that, a self-conscious little guffaw that was promptly followed by her hand covering the bundle’s face-hole. “Is that a regular pastime where you’re from?” 

“Not in the slightest,” he answered, although the mental image of troopers wrapped in layers of blacks, being rolled down the curving domes of the Kaminoan buildings brought a little lightness to his heart… But then it was quickly replaced by his last view of Tipoca City – burning wreckage sinking to the bottom of the sea.

“Sorry…” Lyra said uncertainly, and Hunter realized his face had been more telling than he’d assumed. He looked back at her with a little shake of the head, brushing away a lifetime of memories. 

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he began.

“Would rolling me down the hill make you feel better?” she asked, mouth pressed in a serious line. His eyebrows rose, as did the corner of his mouth, glancing from her to the cascading river that poured off the edge of the island cliffs into the sea below. 

“Murder isn’t usually my first choice of pick-me-ups.”

“Ah, okay. That’s good,” she said solemnly, nodding slowly. “To answer your question…” she paused, giving him time to backtrack to what his question even was, “I like to bundle up when I come out in the early mornings because I’m always cold. And it’s really hard to leave my living room when the fire is going and there is some morning treat in the oven. But I also really like it out here. So this is how I stay warm.”

“You’re always cold? In a place like this?” 

“I mean, not always… But pretty much always. Bad circulation, maybe.”

Another shared chuckle.

“Fair enough.”

The conversation meandered from there across a few topics of little importance, and Hunter was finding himself intrigued by the hints of depth beneath the relatively plain exterior. He’d become so used to the ever-changing cast of characters that he’d been subjected to throughout the war, each one seeming to be more bold and brash than the last, that it was almost off-putting to encounter someone so… simple? They wrapped up with some simple well-wishes and went their separate ways, leaving Hunter feeling simultaneously confused and comforted.

* * * 

By @constant-brain-fog

.

“Whatcha got there, kid?” Hunter asked, falling into step beside Omega as they made their way down the hill from the school. 

“Oh, it’s for you, actually!” she answered, passing a large package wrapped in twine into his hands. “And you’ve got to stop calling me kid, Hunter…” 

“Right. Sorry,” he faltered, although he knew that she still liked it, beneath the inconsistent facade she’d grown since starting school. He sniffed the parcel and received a noseful of earthy vegetable scents. “Who’s this from?”

“Lyra.” Omega had a small smile on her face, casting a quick side glance at him before returning her gaze to the path. “She said she saw you hunting a few days ago, and she didn’t want you to go hungry.” 

“Oh really…” he murmured, squinting narrowly as he shifted the package to rest beneath an arm. “Well isn’t that nice.” 

“I thought so! No?” she asked, curious at the sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“When she saw me, it was an empty hunt day,” he said, the faintest of wry grins tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So this seems more like a little jab than a generous gift.”

“I don’t think she’s like that…” Omega observed, brow furrowing as she scrutinized him. “She seemed so warm when she said it…And she offered to help me with my internship applications because they’ve been stressing me out.”

“Well, either way… Let’s see what we can do with this for dinner tonight.”

The parcel contained an impressive variety of produce that Hunter assumed came from Lyra’s garden; some were familiar, some not. Brightly-colored root vegetables lay next to plump green and yellow things that looked as though they’d been plucked from vines, and nestled among them were little blue and red balls that, upon being sliced open, revealed juicy interiors with tiny seeds. With their limited repertoire of culinary skills, Hunter and Omega had decided that the best course of action would be to roast them all in a large sheet pan in the oven. After quite a bit of chopping, the tray was filled and the oven was set. But the amount of vegetables it took to fill the sheet pan had barely made a dent in the pile they’d been given, and Omega laughed as she scooped the leftovers into bags, wrapping them and putting them in the cooling chamber for later use. Wrecker was notably absent that evening, and Hunter made a tongue-in-cheek observation that they could have used the extra mouth.

As they waited for the timer to go off, they busied themselves in their own endeavors – Omega had spread her school supplies across the table and was engrossed in her datapad while Hunter tried to organize all of the receipts that had been printed at the butcher shop over the last few days. Tech was his unofficial accountant, keeping track of inventory, overhead, and margins required to keep the shop profitable, but his continual frustration with Hunter’s messy ways had resulted in multiple threats of resignation. So the receipts were to be “ordered chronologically and delivered in a timely fashion to minimize the redundant work and avoid wasting time”, and Hunter had complied, mostly to avoid having to do the rest of it himself.

He sensed Omega’s mood changing quite rapidly between the dinner prep and the time they sat down to eat, and as they dug into their steaks, now with vegetable side dishes that were quite beautiful with their array of colors, he could almost see a proverbial dark cloud hanging over her head. A wave of discomfort washed over him as he pondered the possible causes, realizing he was wildly out of his league. He didn’t even really know what he was to her anymore – some kind of protective figure at the very least, but as she’d settled into young adulthood, her maturing perspective combined with the fact that she’d lived nearly twice as long as he had created a bit of complexity in an already-unfamiliar scenario. But considering the slump of her shoulders and the way it tugged at his heart, Hunter knew he had to at least give it a shot. 

“The vegetables are really good,” he ventured, stabbing one with his fork. “Good call on the seasoning.”

“Hmm,” was her only reply, pushing them around on her plate with enough dejection to make even a clanker feel compassion. 

“You… uh… want to talk?”

“Not really.”

“Alright.”

More silence ensued, punctuated only by the sounds of eating, which were disproportionately amplified in the discomfort of the situation. 

“What’s the next internship?” he tried again, hoping to spark her interest. She’d been thoroughly enjoying herself so far, with the occasional hiccup here and there, and had sounded excited about the rest of the year’s plans and opportunities.

“No idea,” she said, voice lower than usual. He frowned, tilting his head at her. 

“Why not?” he asked, with as warm and gentle a tone as he could muster. He was really trying to do it right, whatever “it” was, and fought back the rising frustration at his own inadequacy in this realm.

“It’s all different. The next round is more competitive. You have to apply for the assignments you want, and they only take the top two students for each position. If you don’t get any of the ones you want, you’re just shoved somewhere, whether you’re interested in it or not.”

“Ah. That’s… tricky.”

“It’s kriffing stupid!” Omega blurted out, face hardening with thinly-veiled anger. 

“Whoa, careful kiddo–” The thought was out before he could give it a second thought, and it apparently contained an unfortunate choice of words.

“You don’t get it!” she fumed, her lilting voice cracking with emotion. “The applications are stressful enough themselves, plus the lunar festival is coming up and everyone is telling me I need to have some kind of date for it, otherwise I’m total Bantha fodder, and it’s all just… unfair! I don’t know when everyone decided that I have to act or be or look a certain way, whether or not I want to, but it’s driving me crazy. And I bet that if I don’t play their little games, I’ll be stuck shadowing some dumb datapad programmer or something like that.”

Hunter was speechless, taken aback by the flood of information, most of which felt as though it were coming out of nowhere. She’d always seemed happy with her class, especially since it was made up of a handful of students who all knew each other and appeared to get along. When had it changed so drastically? He fumbled for something to say, trying to think strategically.

“I mean, datapad programming can be pretty handy…” he tried, cringing at the wave of emotion he felt from her in response. 

“It’s okay, Hunter. You don’t have to try to make me feel better. You can’t understand this. It’s not what you were made for,” she snapped, picking up her plate and heading for her room, where she kicked the door closed behind her. He was shocked at her uncharacteristic vehemence. 

An hour passed, leaving Hunter confused and alone as he finished his own plate, constantly warring with himself as to whether or not he should go after her. He cleaned up the kitchen, washing and drying everything by hand before putting it where it belonged. There was a flurry of emotions in his own mind as well: frustration at having apparently said the wrong thing, indignation at her seemingly disproportionate reactivity, and a deep, nagging, unsettling sense that perhaps she was right. He had been made for one purpose. How was he supposed to craft a life of his own outside of that?

As he made the final preparations to head to bed himself, he heard footsteps in Omega’s room, followed shortly by her door cracking open to reveal her small frame. She’d grown so much from when they’d first met, yet somehow still carried a sensitivity and fragility that the world had not yet robbed her of. At least, that was how he saw her. And now, deflated as she was, he only wanted to protect her now from the nuances of adolescent life, the way he had protected her from blaster bolts and tsunamis. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, approaching from the hallway to where he stood in their small living room. “I didn’t mean what I said… That was awful…” The light scent of her tears matched up to the redness of her eyes, and he shook his head slowly. 

“It’s fine. You’re not wrong–”

“Absolutely I’m wrong!” she exclaimed, drawing closer now. Her body language was odd, like a bird about to take flight, holding some kind of inexpressible tension as she continued. “You may have been created for war, but that’s not all of who you are, Hunter. I know you’re a clone, but you’re still human. And more unique than most.” Her voice was softer now, filled with a wistful nostalgia. “You always have been.”

“Well thanks, but–”

His words were cut off again by her sudden hug, arms wrapped firmly around him as she buried her face in his chest. She squeezed, heaving a great sigh as they stood there in silence, his own arms finding tentative support around her. 

“I kind of miss just being a soldier,” she confessed, and Hunter’s mind began to run with a million responses about how she wasn’t a soldier, she’d done so much more than that, etc. But he quieted it for a moment, taking a deep breath of his own, and tried to understand what she was really attempting to convey. Her time as a “soldier” had been their years of post-Republic adventures, scraping by with odd jobs and never quite knowing where they would end up. But they’d always had each other, and their missions were usually fairly singular in focus. It was a whole new world to navigate not only the basics of safety and provision, but also future planning, social nuance, and other pressures that he couldn’t even begin to understand. 

He hugged her tightly, silent in the shared sentiment. And in a way, he found himself missing it too.

.

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[multific]

Portraits

11th Doctor x Reader

Summary: The Doctor was never meant to see your drawings, sketches and paintings.

You loved to draw and paint ever since you were born.

You loved paintings and art as a whole. 

You always wanted to meet with the great painters of the past, Monét being one of your favourites.

But now, you had a different hobby. 

You longed for adventure and the thrill of it all.

So, being a companion of the Doctor came naturally.

He was a very understanding and kind soul.

He even made a room for you where you could paint and draw in between adventures.

He would be out there, doing something with the TARDIS while you were in your room, drawing, sketching or painting.

You not only had a new companion and hobby but a muse. 

You found the Doctor to be beautiful and soon you realized your mindless sketches were all about him.

In the beginning, it was the places he took you to.

Then it was just Him.

Nothing else but him.

How you remembered him when the sun was shining on his face. One smile he offered you that morning.

And soon, your art room got filled with him. His face littered the walls and the floor. He was everywhere.

And suddenly you became extremely grateful that he didn't enter your room. Ever. 

He said it is your space and he never ever opened the door. 

And he didn't need to.

After a particularly sticky adventure, you went to your room to shower and wash your hair.

Little did you know that TARDIS opened the door to the Chamber of Secrets. To your Chamber of Secrets. 

The Doctor was on his way back from his own shower when he found the door open a little. He thought it was weird since you always close it.

As he knocked and called out, the door opened further, revealing what was inside.

He looked around and at all the sketches of him, and not only him, but the one before him. He looked... beautiful. You made him look beautiful.

A particular painting caught his eye. 

He immediately recognized the place, he took you to a planet which was filled with flowers and meadows. And there it was, him sitting on a blanket in the middle of it all. 

"Doctor?" he heard you call but he couldn't move. "Why are you in here?!" you asked as you rushed in. "You said you wouldn't come in here."

"The door was open." he pointed at the door but never took his eyes off of the painting. "Is this really how you see me?" 

"I-I-"

"You make me look so beautiful. I truly don't deserve to look so nice." his eyes caught once more the pile. The pile which was all of his previous reincarnations. 

"It is how I see you." you walked over and pulled out a picture of him standing next to a Dalek. "I don't remember what you told me that day. But I knew I will have to paint it. To me, you are beautiful."

The Doctor, for once in his life was speechless. He could see your heart was in front of him in a platter and he didn't want to break it, even if he knew he should, he couldn't. He loved you for way too long. And to hear you loved him the same. To see you loved him the same.

"I am not a good painter, but I wish I could paint such beautiful portraits about you. You are so much more beautiful than I am." 

"Please don't give me hope if you are going to end up leaving me."

"I will never leave you."

You looked at him and smiled at him. The tone of his voice, the promise in his words spoke louder than ever. 

"I won't leave you either." you said and it was a promise you meant to keep.

He walked over to you and hugged you. He finally felt full. Both of his hearts, filled with you.

"I do wish to draw something different though."

"Oh?" he pulled back a little and looked down at you. He smiled as he was waiting for you to explain.

"A... nude." you whispered as he suddenly pulled back.

"Very funny! Very funny, Y/N!" you noticed how red his neck and face got as he backed away and out of the room. 

You smiled as you heard him walk away quickly.

You knew that one way or another, you will get your drawing, since you already got the man himself.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[aemonds-wifey]

Summary: You are caught in the wake of Storms end…your loyalty is questioned …but not by Aemond

Warnings: Smut (had to be done!)

A whole week had passed since Visera’s birth, you stood holding Aelor in your arms watching over your daughter sleeping.

Aelor looked at her and smiled a few times himself , Visera’s birth made you feel complete. She was beautiful and already had silver hair starting to show, both your children would be the very image of Aemond, strong Targaryen features, but you knew they would posses the iron will of your Stark Blood.

Aelor giggling as you swirled him on the spot, his laugh was so infectious you absolutely adored him.

but You had no much time alone with Aemond. Storms End had dominated the matters with the small council, not to mention how it affected the realm and the Allie’s that were sworn to the greens. You missed his touch , his embrace …the intimacy you craved began to know at you. But he had kept distance, the outcome of Storms End still riddled him …and you had only given birth, he was respectfully giving you time. You would do anything to spent a day alone with him, just in bed enjoying each others company.

Later that day You wondered down the red keep looking for your husband, but as you walked past people you noticed the odd look your way- as if you had grown an extra head. You could not find him anywhere. You even found your way down to the skull of Balerion, even after coming here with Aemond to sneak a kiss and hear him recite Balerion’s mighty adventures…the sheer size of the skill impressed you.

You felt like you had been down there for what seemed like an age. With a heavy sigh you made your way through the square before reaching your quarters - Nina almost lunged at you “Princess there you are!”

You looked bewildered “Nina what is it , Aelor and Visera are well?”

She nodded “They are fine , have you Heard ?”

“Heard what?”

She paused as one of the maids strolled past, Nina lowered her voice “There is a rumor your brother has pledged support for the Princess Rhenerya “

Your heart sank “ What? No surely …”

She pulled you into a small opening out of sight “That isn’t everything …before you left the Maester brought a ravens scroll, I noticed the Stark seal …I instructed him to leave it on the bureau“

You waited for her to finish “ Yes?”

“I went to Check on the children…I was gone maybe half of an hour…when I came back the scroll had gone…”

Your stomach lurched with a twisted uneasy feeling.

“Did you see anybody ?” You asked

She shook her head, looking guilty “ Forgive me I should”-

“Nonsense. You weren’t to know.” You looked around then back to Nina “Stay with the children… I will find out what is going on. Thank you for telling me “. you gave her a reassuring nod before heading off into the back into the bowels of the red keep. The throne room was like a crypt, you half expected to catch Aegon fooling around on the iron throne with some wench. You looked nearly everywhere until Your feet found their way to the bottom of the stairs that lead to the small council room.

You headed up the stairs to hear raised voices getting louder , You opened the door to see Aemond angrily pacing at one end of the table ,he froze upon seeing you ��Otto Hightower was there. Standing at the opposite side.

“What is this?” You said with one hand on your hip.

Otto stood with a piece of parchment in his hand , Aemonds eye darted to you and back to Otto.

“Well?” You demanded.

Otto simply bowed his head “Princess you should be resting “

“I will do as I please…Tell me Otto what is that in your hand”

Aemond grunted “He brings a ravens scroll from your brother, the lord of Winterfell. Seems he’s been…busy hosting strong guests.”

You had not wrote to your brother since shortly before Visera’s birth, when Viserys was still living. You caught Aemonds eye which was fixated on you.

“A letter to congratulate us on the safe deliverance of our daughter no doubt?” You mused. Trying to Call Ottos bluff

Ottos breath staggered , Aemond stood by window for a brief moment , he was tense you could see in his posture , he then returned to the table - leaning forward clutching a chair.

. “It seems…your brother has sided with Princess Rhaenyra…Prince Jacaerys held an audience with him when Aemond went to storms end…Cregan pledged his support to Jace and his cause”

Your stomach knitted with disgust , you felt sick with confusion, betrayal And anger.

“I believe this letter is lord Stark asking for your help or intervention in the matter “ Otto continued

“Believe? Don’t play me for a fool my lord hand” you snatched the letter out of his hand

Aemond watched you wordlessly. Otto looked at you “my lady I don’t…”

“I know you retrieved this from our chambers …and that you have read this I can see the seal is broken and clumsy waved back…who helped you that mangy creep Larys?”

Otto cleared his throat , clearly not expecting you to react this way , he looked at Aemond for support but he simply glared at him. Unsettled, Otto looked at you again “Princess you are emotional and at this time we need to remain calm”

You scoffed “You don’t even have the decency to deny it…”

“What I do is for the good of the realm”

You held the letter up at him , The seal clumsily broken “A man of your resourcefulness and Wit …” you shook your head “Disappointing. Spying on our correspondence long? Or just mine because I am an outsider hmm?”

Otto did not expect this from you, Aemond watched you speak.

“Tell me…my lord hand. Does it give you pleasure to spy on us? Just as you did in Rhaenyra‘s youth?”

Otto cleared his throat “ You accuse me of spying on my own grandson ?”

“I know you have many…minions in the red keep.”

You could feel Aemond staring at Otto. He said nothing, the last time he tried to justify his schemes cost him his position, what would he loose if he tried to lie again?

You took a deep inhale “The fact you have slithered here so eagerly shows you think I am Not loyal …have I not proven my loyalty for almost three years ?”

“Is it not your loyalty I am questioning I just need to understand you will not think of heeding to your brothers words. Do not act impulsively …”

“You think me impulsive now? “ you said almost laughing

he briefly glanced at at Aemond “No but he is!” He shouted pointing at him “last time he was trusted with great importance he started a war!”

The silence that filled the room was lethal. Aemond almost charged at Otto but you raised your hand which bluntly met his chest. Aemond stopped and you stepped forward. You got right up to Ottos face…he maintained eye contact and you did not back down.

“Get out of my sight” your tone was menacing

He looked at you and opened his mouth to speak but you were too quick “Leave….or you too will share The fate of Lucerys Strong and believe me…your death will not be one of impulse and it will be in pain” he blinked in fear and took a step back. He struggled to find his words , as he searched for them you spoke again “Go”

The threat was repeated by the glare Aemond gave him, he bowed and left. Wordless. The doors of the council chamber shut firmly.

You exhaled so deeply Aemond thought you would faint , he faced you holding your elbows in each of his hands. You looked at him still shaking with anger , Aemond looked at you differently but there was that glimmer of excitement in his eye that you had not seen for a long time - the devotion you had shown by defending him to his own grand sire made him lean in and kissed you ever so softly that you felt the parchment fall out of your hand.

You sank into his kisses with a hungered passion, something you had been starved off for the last nine months. The electricity between you were so powerful you were sure nothing else in the world existed. He planted gentle kisses over your jaw and down to your neck- you closed your eyes before Aemond almost tore the sleeve off your arm. In between kisses you opened his tunic as easy as tearing paper. He tugged down on your corset to expose your breast, as he kissed you he fondled them with such a tender touch you moaned against his lips. He grazed your jaw which made you moan “Aemond ..someone might…” you said in between gasps

“Let them” he muttered as he kissed your breast softly. You moved your head as you kissed his bare chest in spots, moving your free hand down his broad chest to the inside of his trousers. He let out the collapsing sigh as you felt his manhood, he was so ready. He held the back of your head as you lips made their way up to his neck, then his jaw. You were once again entrapped by his violet eye, your gaze was locked and without any words, your hand crawled up to the eyepatch buckle. His eye dilated as you removed it , revealing the vibrant blue sapphire, the patch fell to the ground and bounce next to the parchment. You both said nothing , you tip toed and kissed the base of the scar all the way up and around the edge of where the eye once once. And where the sapphire laid you kissed the precious gem, you felt him sigh with the utmost urgency. He pressed the back of your head to have your lips meet his, the hunger in his kissed became more evident as he lightly pushed you against the table, hoisting you up and resting you on the great table and lifted your skirts, as he started to remove his trousers you wrapped your legs around his waist and arms over his shoulders - your fingers running through his beautiful silver hair. Your lips met again as grazed himself at your entrance, you moaned deeply as he pushed himself inside you , your mouth fell open and he began to take you. Your fingers dug into his skin as the pleasure reached your core. Aemond kept uttering your name into your ear as if he was reciting a prayer , you felt close and He pushed you so your back was now against the table , he kept thrusting until your lower body came undone and the intense wave of euphoria claimed you Both. You both stayed there for a few moments, catching your breaths, Aemond lifted his head and kissed you gently on the lips, your hands crawled up his back.

Aemond got to his knees to pick up the eye patch as you found a cloak to hide the tear he had caused, adjusting your corset as best you can . Aemond picked up the parchment handing it to you as he got to his feet.

You took it and opened it started to read, as Aemond wrapped his tunic back around his chest and began to fasten it.

You let out a short gasp as you finished reading, “what news?” He asked

“My brother …” Otto was right.

Aemond looked at the parchment then back at you , you let him read it over your shoulder.

“Dearest Sister,

No doubt you will be aware that the atrocity committed by your lord husband, Prince Aemond Targaryen over storms

End has only reaffirmed my support to Queen Rhaeneyra, her son Jace sought out our support the same night your husband murdered Prince Lucerys. How callus a man to murder his own family….The Kinslayer they call him.

I urge you sister to leave the captiol, return to your home and abandon the Targaryens before they obliterate everything within their grasp . Leave your Targaryen pups to the hightowers and join the northern cause …to remove Aegon the usurper.

I anticipate your raven and hope to see you soon

Cregan,

Lord of Winterfell.

Aemond didn’t react with cold fury as you anticipated, he simply looked at you. Fear was struck in his eye…a shallow moment of silence passed between you and he waited for you to say something . In this very moment you knew what you had to do, Aemond however was lost in a trance of the unknown, he could not read your face - to him, not knowing tormented him more .

“What…will you do?” He said, his voice was barely audible.

You took one look at the letter again and then back at Aemond. In one swift move you a scrunched the letter into a paper ball and tossed it into the fire. Aemonds eye wide with shock, as you watched the paper crumble and burn he stood next to you , lost for words.

“He’s your brother…your family …” Aemond began.

You shook your head and took his hands “The day I married you changed that…you are my family. Our children…I will not abandon them or you and hide behind the walls of Winterfell. I made my promise to you. I will stay with you. To the end”

You felt Aemonds hand clasp yours, the way his fingers intertwined with yours felt so secure and safe. He pulled you into him. Holding you tightly against your chest. You were home.

Chapter 11

[spahhzy]

The Beach Episode! (sorta)

"Alright, Andy and Leyley side adventure titled: Beach Episode!" Cheered Ashley as Andrew rolled his eyes.

"Hardly a beach episode If it's just a pool at some random motel" Andrew mused as Ashley looked at Andrew with a pout.

"Don't need to ruin the fun!" She said and Andrew snorted.

"Ah yes, fun, on the run for our lives, and here we are having a 'beach' episode...yes veeeery fun," Andrew said as he grabbed a towel from the wrack in his room. He had a book in his right hand and a small little basket of some various supplies (underneath was the cleaver lest he...needed it for various reasons, all of which I'm sure aren't Ashley related) like sun-tan lotion and some water and snacks.

"Whatever you say, 'Mr. Stick up my ass', " Came Ashley as she stepped out of the bathroom, and Andrew had to turn away to avoid the crimson blush adorning his face.

"Oooh~what's a matter, Andyyy~" came the sing-song teasing voice of Ashley, who put two hands on her brothers cheek and made them look at her.

She was in a two-piece black bikini that would make Andrew mind wander and wander all throughout the day.

"L-lets, just go!" Said Andrew as he quickly walked past a smirking Ashley who followed right behind him.

-

It was a standard pool, one side shallow-the other side deep, nothing too crazy, a few of the other motel quest where their and just a singular bored lifeguard.

All in all pretty simple.

Andrew sighed as he found a nice lawn chair under an umbrella, put his and Leyley stuff underneath said chair. Kicking off his sandles, he sat on the chair, adjusting himself slightly, not bothering to take off his black shirt. Not that he wasn't comfortable or anything, no...he knows that if he did, Ashley would say something along the lines of 'showing off your body to other girls now, huh?' and then it would devolve into a fight. Which is what they didn't need right now...

"Ashley-cannibal!" Screamed Ashley as she jumped straight into the deep end of the pool, causing water to splash in all directions, causing a slight irratation to some of the other pool goers.

"You meant cannonball dumbass!" shouted Andrew as Ashley rose out of the water and swam to an edge before giving her brother the bird.

"I mean, both are equally true-" She was cut off with a glare from her brother sinking her head back down under water to escape her brothers gaze a naughty thought crossed her mind.

Andrew just sighed before laying back into the lawn chair and resuming his book and letting Ashley have her fun before it was time to go.

Pain in the ass she maybe,but she was his beautiful pain in the ass.

Very very beautiful indeed.

'Calm down Andrew, no need to get all hot and bothered...in a public setting no less. Relax, relax, and try not to think if your hot sister in that lovely bikini she had you buy her.'

Not finding his brain very helpful, Andrew returned back to his book and just kept reading, hoping those thoughts would just go away for now or that would be the case if...

"Andy~" came the mischievous voice of his sister as Andy looked up from his book to see his sister standing next to him, he was so distracted he didn't see that she had procured the sun-tan lotion from their basket, what's worse (or fortunate depending on how you feel Andrew) Ashley decided to sit on Andrew's lap.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Andrew said, blushing at the closeness of his sister as Ashley put the suntan lotion bottle in his hands.

"Your little sister needs her big brothers' help to fight those nasty sun rays~"Ashley said to him with a smile as Andrew sighed.

"I'm sure you can do it, Leyley." Andrew groaned, trying not to show any joy from having his sister sitting on his lap like this.

Ironically, a part of him wanted to just wrap his arms around the pale tease and hug her close.

"Nope, big brother has to help me sides. I can't reach everywhere now, can I?~" She said with a teasing wink.

'She's trying to kill me'

Andrew said nothing just looked at the bottles in his hand, sighing he set his book down and made himself a bit more comfortable before opening up said bottle and poured its contents onto his hand.

Hand thoroughly lathered Andrew began at his sister's shoulders, gently rubbing everywhere he could to administer the lotion, blushing and trying to hold back more and more thoughts.

While Ashley, on the other hand...

'God, his hands are so great!'

She, too, had a blush and was biting her lip to hold in a moan as her brother continued her work. She decided to lean back more as Andrew worked down her arms and then her sides, each muscle being expertly tended too. Until the feel-good sensation stopped.

"Uh there ya go, Ashley," said Andrew, looking away and made to try to get up but only to receive a tug on his shirt.

"Nuh-uh Andy not yet..." said Ashley before she repositioned herself to now be lying down on the lawn chair.

"Come on, Andy, time to lather me up~" said Ashley, to which Andrew gulped before taking more of the lotion and began to apply it to his sister, starting with her legs and working all the way up careful and precise he was as Ashley had to keep biting her lip, drawing blood as she had to resist moaning.

Really, she only wanted to tease her brother, but fuuuuck, did this feel so good!

From legs all the way to her back, her brother knew her body like the back of his hand.

Honestly, she could be here forever.

"Done"

Blinking, Ashley rose up to see Andrew, Red in the face setting the bottle down, reaching into the basket to pull out a bottle of water and drinking it in one go.

"Jeez Andrew, you sure are thirsty, aren't you, hmm?" Teased Ashley as Andrew narrowed his eyes at her.

'Little minx...how would she'

A lightbulb went off on Andy's head.

"Well Leyley... I hope all is good now, " He told her before getting up from his spot and making his way in front of her, this time handing her the lotion.

Ashley looked at the bottle then back at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Eh?"

"Well, aren't you going to lather up your brother?" Asked Andrew innocently, to which Ashley rolled her eyes.

"Tch, as if, I'm not falling for that trick, Andrew," She said, moving the bottle out of her face and laying her head back down on the towel.

"Oh, that's too bad..." Suddenly, a cloth fell onto Ashley's head, causing her to remove it to see that Andrew was now shirtless.

Ashley began to drool.

"I guess if my dear Leyley won't do it I guess one of these fine ladies wi-" Suddenly Ashley had dragged Andrew back down to the lawn chair before using one of the umbrella to cover them both.

She had procured the cleaver from the basket and now had it at Andrew's throat.

"It will be a cold day in hell before I let those whores touch a single inch of you my dear brother..." Said Ashley darkly as her violet eyes glowed, Andrew smirked feeling the blade nick his skin just a bit. His little plan worked like a charm.

" and if all you wanted was your dear sister to lather you up all you needed to do was ask... no need to look for other women..."

"But I did ask"

"You should have asked better, Andy!"

Andrew chuckled but said nothing as Ashley removed the cleaver from his throat and moved the umbrella back to its original position.

Suddenly, he sat up and looked behind him to see Ashley blushing up a storm as she held the bottle in her hand.

"Turnabout is fair play hmm Leyley?" Chuckled Andrew as soon he felt Ashley splatter the sun tan lotion all on his back the cold causing him to flinch before suddenly Ashley roughly began rubning the lotion into his back.

"Ah-gently-gently!"

.

[statisticallymorelikely]

Happy birthday @ironpe!

Witcher au edit: Older Bard Chris Pine x Jaskier

Jaskier meets Older Bard Chris Pine in university, the other being a few years older and an absolute breath of fresh air among the drab scholars in academia and Jaskier naturally gravitates to him. He’s fun, flirty, charismatic and speaks so passionately about stories and love and beauty that fellow students would gather around him whenever he cared to share his musings.

He and Jaskier spend hours reading together in the library, silently penning poems on a piece of paper they pass back and forth, eyes shining with mirth, lips turned in smiles secretly shared. Jaskier has what he calls ‘the tiniest crush’ on him but what everyone else calls a ‘debilitating infatuation’. Some nights, Older Bard Chris Pine sneaks wine into Jaskier’s room and they pull the most beautiful melodies from thin air, drunk half on wine and half on the joy of creation, flushed with laughter, convinced of their own genius, skin tingling as they sit shoulder to shoulder.

Jaskier often imagines him whispering poetry into his ear while he fucks him into the bed. 

But alas, nothing further happens between them, Older Bard Chris Pine graduates and soon enough Jaskier does too. He stays for a while to attempt life in academia, gets bored out of his wits and sets off for adventure. He meets Geralt, gets into all sorts of trouble with him and creates his best songs. It’s a pleasant enough existence, seeing the world, traveling with his best friend he’s kind of in love with but who never even acknowledges their friendship, sleeping under the stars, grabbing inspiration from anywhere and everywhere. 

Most times, it’s enough to see Geralt’s sharp eyes watching him from across the campfire, something akin to longing in that gaze, but sometimes, he misses the touch that came with the easy camaraderie he had in school, elbows digging into his side, knees knocking together, fingers sliding clumsily against each other on the lute. He can’t hope for that from Geralt, not yet, maybe not ever, since the only time Geralt has ever touched him is to push him out of the way or to save his life.

Needless to say, Jaskier has some needs that aren’t being met. And that’s not even counting his desperation for something soft to sleep on. Witching jobs have been hard to come by lately so Jaskier has become very familiar with his bedroll and the cold hard ground. It’s this desperation that drives them into town one night, looking for shelter.

He hopes to get a room in the inn and pay for it with the money he earns singing. Geralt will be going to the alderman first thing in the morning to look for jobs but who knows if he’ll get paid at all. Unfortunately, there’s already a bard playing when they enter. Disappointing. Jaskier suggests they try a different inn but as they’re leaving, someone calls out his name. 

And of course, it’s none other than his crush from back at school, only he’s nearly silver now, a little more muscle, weathered by adventure yet somehow even more attractive than before. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and Jaskier’s knees threaten to buckle when he realizes that smile is all for him.

Jaskier tries very hard not to get hard when Older Bard Chris Pine pulls him in for a tight hug, big, warm hands sliding around his waist. He feels a flush creep up his cheeks but there’s a lingering unease at the back of his neck, waves and waves of anger pouring in from one direction. Jaskier looks back and Geralt looks absolutely murderous, more so than usual, but he doesn’t say anything, just glares. 

Jaskier pulls away, quickly introducing Geralt to his senior from Oxenfurt.

“So! You’re the muse, huh? The infamous White Wolf,” says Older Bard Chris Pine, cheerfully extending his hand. Jaskier has to admire his courage, not many people would shake hands with a Witcher, and a grumpy one at that. Jaskier tracks Geralt’s gaze to the arm casually slung around his waist and fights the urge to explain and placate. Geralt looks like he’s going to break Older Bard Chris Pine’s arm off, and that kind of possessive reaction stirs something hot in Jaskier’s chest, but if he really wanted to, Geralt would have already done it, so the hesitation dampens Jaskier’s hopes.

Jaskier is jostled from his thoughts when the hand on his waist tugs at him, focus drawn back to blue eyes. “What?”

“Oh, darling, you haven’t changed, have you? I was asking if you wanted to catch up. In fact, I insist on it. These fine folks can do without music for a night, right?” 

Jaskier opens his mouth, sees Geralt’s furious expression once more, closes his mouth for a moment before opening it again. “Of course! Nobody’d miss your scratchy strumming, anyway.”

A bright smile spreads on his old friend’s face. “Great! Dinner’s on me!” 

Surely, there’s no harm in agreeing to this.

Except his old friend seems to be doing everything he can to drive Jaskier insane. He parks himself next to Jaskier in a tight cramped table, pressing his thighs against his, looping an arm around his shoulder, leaning close to laugh so his breath tickles at Jaskier’s neck as he tells Geralt embarrassing stories of Jaskier at school. (Enough ale has passed through their table that Geralt’s loosened up slightly, and seriously, if you let him talk enough, Older Bard Chris Pine can charm the pants off anyone and now, Jaskier wants to claw his own eyes out because he’s suddenly imagining him with his pants off.) Jaskier is extremely aware of every point of contact, each of them sending pleasant buzzes across his nerves.

Then there’s also the way he looks at him, like Jaskier has always wanted in the past, the way he smiles so fondly at him, gaze holding something hot behind those blue, blue eyes, drawing him in and holding him captive. When he absently licks his lips to chase some ale, Jaskier’s eyes flick down and he has to fight the urge to lean forward and taste him himself. Gods, every single embarrassing daydream he’s ever had is all coming back to him and it’s all too much.

He needs some air.

So, he excuses himself to get some, reassures Geralt with a look and steps out into the cold night so he can gather himself together. He stays in the alley next to the inn to brood and untangle his mess of feelings because what is going on? It’s frustrating how hot and bothered he is. It’s like he’s gone back in time to the pathetic besotted student he used to be. He blames Geralt and his missions because he hasn’t had a decent wank in a while, they’ve been so busy.

Normally, if he likes someone he just goes for it (barring his thing with Geralt, of course, that matters too much to be handled casually), a predator in his own right, but now, he feels like prey. Maybe it’s just him regressing to his younger self. He used to know next to nothing about the world and about pleasure but now, he’s more experienced and confident but one smile and all that goes flying out his head. Maybe he's just horny and wants to get taken care of once in a while. Maybe it’s because his friend actually wants him, unlike someone else in his life.

He's so close to a realization when he's knocked out of his own thoughts by a rumbling laugh next to his ear. Older Bard Chris Pine is leaning right next to him, and Jaskier wills himself not to startle.

“Where’s Geralt?”

“I offered him a room with a bath, and he took me up on it.”

“Oh.” That answers that question then, Jaskier thinks. Maybe he should stop feeling guilty about this if Geralt isn't going to care in the first place.

“Y’know, it’s been wonderful catching up with you, Jaskier. Really made me remember the good old times, our afternoons huddled together in the library, or nights in your room.” Older Bard Chris Pine murmurs softly enough that Jaskier has to lean closer to hear him. “I still remember the pretty picture you painted, sunlight in your hair, and pink lips curled around your pen.”

He runs his fingers gently against Jaskier’s fringe, down his cheeks, thumb running against his bottom lip and Jaskier sighs. He’s had enough.

He fists a hand into Older Bard Chris Pine’s coat and reels him into a kiss. It’s hot and heavy and when Older Bard Chris Pine slips his tongue in his mouth, his brain finally gives up. He had every intention of being aggressive and redeeming his pathetic demeanor all night, but then Older Bard Chris Pine is pressing him into the wall and his knees go weak.

Jaskier scrambles, fisting his hands in his friend’s hair as he starts to suck on a soft spot on Jaskier’s neck, right over his pulse. They’re pressed so close, chest to chest, thigh to thigh but he wants more, wants to get impossibly closer. This is everything he used to dream of and by gods, he’s going to get justice for his younger self! Older Bard Chris Pine shifts and slots a thigh between Jaskier’s legs and he doesn’t have enough willpower not to rut into it.

“Fuck...”

And then the rumbling laugh is back in his ear. “Be glad to.”

They fall into bed in a separate room from Geralt’s and Older Bard Chris Pine takes care of him gloriously, taking him apart with his mouth and his fingers and his cock. Jaskier gets to have his old fantasy come true. He gets fucked into the bed with poetry in his ear and it’s much, much better than he ever dreamed because it’s poetry about him, and if this is what worship feels like then no wonder the gods get drunk on it. 

They fuck for hours and by the end, Jaskier is thoroughly owned and marked, all covered in bruises and love bites and his hole is so sensitive he’s thankful Geralt won’t let him ride on Roach. He’s sticky with sweat, sated and exhausted, and falls asleep in a warm embrace

In the morning, he wakes up to Older Bard Chris Pine half dressed and getting ready to set off. But when he sees Jaskier awake, he stops his packing to go crawl up the bed again and kiss him senseless.

“I have to go, my party’s leaving by noon,” he says, genuine regret in his voice. 

Jaskier is a little sad but he never expected anything different anyway. He knows this was a one night affair and he’s glad he had it. For younger Jaskier’s sake. Maybe his present self too.

But there’s still a few hours before noon and he bets Geralt has already gone to see the alderman for a job. There's no sense in wasting this time overthinking, so he seduces Older Bard Chris Pine for one last tumble in the sheets and gets enough orgasms to last him a few more cold months with his hand.

Before he finally leaves though, Older Bard Chris Pine looks Jaskier over in all his debauched glory and grins widely, pleased at his own handiwork. Jaskier can just imagine what he looks like, hair all over the place, love bites scattered all over his body, lips bitten red. 

“Yes, that’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.” He runs his thumb against one particularly violent bruise right in Jaskier’s pulse point in his neck. “This one. You can’t cover this one up.”

His grin widens, smug. “Your muse is going to be furious.”

And with that he swans off and leaves Jaskier to wonder what he meant by that and how he knew because Geralt was indeed furious.

[switchscene]

My message as a crusty and incredibly poor witch:

You don't have to buy all that stuff! You don't need three different books to keep witch notes in! Your altar doesn't need all the fancy trimmings from the metaphysical store I promise!

I know that's like, a no brainer and most witchy pages and resources will tell you that, but it bears repeating cause I keep seeing "witchcraft shopping hauls" from new witches and it makes me wanna gag, it serves so much capitalism I hate it. So I'm gonna give my two cents on having an affordable and sustainable practice. Today's post will be about magical notebooks, and I'll probably write other posts about things like spell ingredients and tools, and I definitely wanna do a whole one about witchcraft books. Content warning, I explicitly advocate theft among other things.

I have an incredibly loosey-goosey practice, it's 100% vibes based most of the time and 80% when it's not. I keep a journal and it's full of songs I've written, correspondences and spells I'm workshopping (love going back and taking notes on how it worked out), tarot readings, adventures I've had, stories I've written, photos and drawings and stuff (my favorite is my staff badge from when I sold fireworks). It's very personal and goes everywhere with me, so it's full of my own energy. My journals are hardcover sketch journals I liberate from the local big box, but they can be anything you write in, or even a note document on your phone (though it's hard to press a cool leaf in your phone). I actually think it's incredibly important to meld your mundane and magical journaling, because it emphasizes that one's practice isn't just a Thing You Do Sometimes, it's a way of living and interacting with the world.

Whenever I remember, I go and put my spells, correspondences, and tarot spreads I feel I've got a good grasp of in a second journal that lives on my shelf. Its purpose is a reference, as opposed to the journalistic nature of my, well, journals. This one was a gift from a friend, a beautiful handmade tome with heavy paper, but again it can be anything you can store writings in; if I didn't have it I'd probably just steal another sketchbook. I write in this one with a quill I found at an antique shop (tips are cheap enough online or steal em from Hobby Lobby, I always advocate theft from corporations) and ink I make from blackberries I forage (storebought is fine, of course, and alum is in the spice aisle of the grocery). That's where my spells live once I feel like I've ironed them out well. I probably do this about once a month, I try to do it during the New Moon, as it has correspondences of creativity and new things, but sometimes it's just when I remember.

You don't gotta buy special journals for stuff, it doesn't have to be a fancy handcrafted leather-bound ordeal, you don't have to have separate books for your mundane and magical musings (everything is magical once you open your eyes to it). It's your practice and as long as you're doing things with intention and respect to the natural world, as long as you're learning about the world around you and appreciating magic in all its forms, you're doing it right.

Blessed be and up the punx, y'all~

[houserosaire]

❤️ - How did your muse come to realize their romantic and sexual orientations? Was it difficult to accept? Are they proud of who they are? - Silvain

Silvaineaux somehow never really struggled terribly with his sexual and romantic orientation. I can't quite say he always knew but the signs were certainly there from the beginning. When he was very young and listening to the stories Felicienne would read him he always wondered how come the hero couldn't rescue a handsome prince too, why did it always have to be girls? Ew girls. When he got a bit older and into his early teens and was reading adventure novels on his own he would get very annoyed when the knight would forsake the camaraderie of his brothers in arms for some beautiful lady or another. He couldn't understand why anybody would step away from such a beautiful bond sometimes in a way that felt like betrayal, for this lady. It did not really surprise him when he got old enough to really be aware of and attracted to people to find that what he was drawn to and thrilled by was men. He did not really ever make any effort to 'fix' this in himself despite the things that might have been said in the church or viewed as acceptable in society, though of course he has always been very discreet about it. Perhaps this security in himself and his lack of attempt to find this facet of his nature a flaw he felt any need to correct came from being the petted and beloved youngest son of his family. Both his parents and his much older siblings doted on him when he was small and even if age brought with it responsibilities and expectations that he did his best to live up to, there was a part of him that was well aware even if not in conscious words that his family would love and accept him regardless. He may struggle with his feelings about acceptance and having in him something worthy of love everywhere else, but he has always had the solid roots of a family whose love he did not doubt. His romantic orientation went right along with the realization of his sexuality. The other facets of his taste are something he explored more as he got older. He is not always proud of some parts of taste. He thinks he can be a lot for a lover to want to live with. But for the most part he is quite unashamed of who he is in this regard.

[galactic-star-bruiser]

Protected Pt. 6

love you all xx thank you for all your support!!

part 5, masterlist

@angel-with-a-heart @art2emily

I stood in a white gown. My reflection felt warped and distant. I couldn’t recognize myself. 

I fought for months ‘since Din had left. I ran away for a while, screamed at my father and begged him not to go through with the arranged marriage, I spent sleepless nights imagining how different life could be, I looked for fights everywhere... but through everything, all my thoughts always landed on him.

Hearing the music down the hall of the wedding venue felt like defeat. I debated running and never letting anyone find me, but I knew it would be to no avail and I would just be dragged back here screaming. 

I stared into my own eyes, they were blank and defeated. I looked for any sign of my past self in the reflection and saw a glint of silver flash. 

My mind wished he was here and it made it feel like every tray of silver was his armor, every shine of a hair pin was the sun on his visor, and that every passing ship held him in it. 

“Hello princess” sounded a voice behind me, the silver glint shifting in the mirror.

My heart was pounding and I froze. 

“You look beau-“

“What are you doing here?” I spat, training my eyes on the reflection of the man I was desperate to see. 

“I couldn’t miss your special day.”

“Don’t mess with me, Din Djarin” the hot tears began to form and my voice broke, “not now, please.”

I turned now to face him, my defenses were gone and he could clearly see the hurt in my eyes. I watched him, every move, every inch. He was playing at something but I couldn’t figure what. 

“Don’t pretend like nothing happened between us...don’t do that to me.” I spoke softly as to not alert anyone who may be running in and out of the adjoining rooms. “I know what we did probably didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me... but you don’t understand, I’ve never had anyone be that close to me or make me feel like you did.”

He sighed and his head dropped from the cocky position it was in. He walked closer to me, taking my trembling hands in his. I knew I should’ve ripped them away, but my heart couldn’t let me. 

“You really do look beautiful” he whispered, eyes still not connected to mine, but rather at the way our hands formed together. 

“Yeah, well-“ I laughed and choked up, rolling my eyes through the pain, “I guess you’re too late.”

“That was the point.” He shook his head and watched as his thumb brushed past the soft skin.

“What was? To show up ‘too late’? I don’t understand, Din.”

 I don’t understand you.

“I knew I’d do something rash if I knew I could have you.”

I dropped my hands from his gently and my voice grew softer. 

“Why didn’t you?”

“ 'Cause I cant give you the life you deserve, princess. Nights on the crest, chasing bounties, danger...”

“Did you ever think that thats the life I’d want?” I questioned, staring into his visor. 

“I knew it was, and thats why I never offered it. I couldn’t live with myself if you were unhappy or...dead because of what I dragged you into.” 

He sighed, moved a stray piece of hair away from my face, and images of our night on Endor flooded my mind and subsequently my eyes. 

I put my hand over his, cradling my face. 

His kindness was shining through his stoic and ever serious, calculated demeanor. It was refreshing in a way, to finally get a hint at what he truly felt. 

“Take me away, Din” I pleaded in a whisper.

“You know I want to, Princess” he answered, meeting my hushed volume. That same pause and muse over the word ‘princess’, just like the day we met. 

"I wish I could give you what you want- the adventure and all. I understand how much you want to get away from your family, but-"

“No. I want you, Din, and I rather live in constant danger with the man I love rather than in misery with a man I'm forced to marry.”

His gloved hand on my face stiffened and I feared that what I said was wrong or he didn’t feel the same. 

“You love me?” He questioned, soft and inquisitive.

“I-how could you not know that?" I was at a loss and expecting rejection at any moment. 

“Close your eyes” he said. 

“Wha-“

“Just do it.”

As I shut my eyes a hiss filled my ears and I felt two small, soft objects fall at my feet. 

A hand reached out and touched my cheek once more, but this time I was met with warm, rough, human skin rather than worn leather. I kept my eyes closed and traced the hand, my fingers brushing along callouses and scars. 

His hand encapsulated mine and drew it nearer to him. Stubble pricked my palm and my finger was traced along an aquiline nose, soft curls, and chapped lips. Those same lips gracing the back of my hand, my palm, and my own mouth, parted in surprise. 

The kiss was gentle and hesitant, like how a little boy would give a peck to his first crush. It was pure sweetness and innocence. 

“What color are your eyes?” I asked breathlessly, my own still shut tight. My hand was resting on the side of his neck and I could feel his heart rate quicken and thump through the warm skin. I moved my hand to his face and felt a small smile spread under me. I couldn’t help but reciprocate. 

“Open your eyes and tell me yourself.”

I shook my head feverishly, “Din, no the creed-“

“It’s okay, cyar’ika.”

My eyelashes fluttered as my eyes got accustomed to the light once more; I hadn’t realized how tightly I had them shut but the stars I saw was a hint. He came into view, blurred vision becoming detailed. 

“Brown...they are brown” I said, staring up at him with a wide gaze. 

A smirk danced its way across his beautiful features and the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen were so blown out that it was hard to even see the chocolate brown that they were. 

[janeykath318]

Jim Kirk x Reader

Fall words: Costume, fall colors

“I forgot how beautiful earth autumn was,” you sighed, swishing through the fallen leaves at your feet as you strolled through the woods. The trees were a riot of fall colors and squirrels were everywhere, scampering about for nuts to stash away. You and Jim had a long leave and he’d come with you to your parents New Hampshire home.

“It really is something,” Jim agreed happily. “Iowa never got this pretty. The color on those maples is stunning.”

“I really should have come back sooner,” you mused. “I love being out in the black, but there’s truly no place like home.”

Jim didn’t say anything, just squeezed your hand as you ambled along. His true home was always in the stars, but you knew his heart was searching for a place to connect to on earth. He’d met your parents for the first time and they’d warmed up to him very quickly, proving very susceptible to his charm. They’d been a little unsure if Jim could be a serious long term partner for you, given his past, but he’d long grown out of that.

“So, you thought about our costumes for Halloween yet?” he asked after a moment of content silence.

“I was thinking, after that adventure on the gangster planet, that we should go as Bonnie and Clyde,” you suggested. “I’d get to wear a flapper dress and I know from experience you can rock one of those pinstriped suits.”

You waggled your eyebrows at him and he laughed sheepishly.

“I still can’t believe how ludicrous that place was,” he sighed. “But I am on board with the Bonnie and Clyde costume plan. We’ll look amazing, babe.”

“That we will,”you agreed.