#Ahhh the mystery of water | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dreamingkitsunewrites · 27 days ago

Text

✰ WOKE UP IN JAPAN ✰

✰ | Inspired playlist here |.

Prologue | Next Chapter here

✰ Pairing neighbor!Choso Kamo x bartender!Reader

✰ Summary (chapter 1/? of Queen of the Night), in which you offer to help your lovely younger neighbour Yuji with his chemistry homework, but end up bumping into his mysterious, ever-elusive older brother, Choso aka ‘the ghost of the block'...

✰ Warnings crack, slow-burn, pining, opposites to lovers, awkwardness, jealousy, underground nightlife, Choso being cold and intimidating at first, reader being messy™️, suggestive language (nsfw and dark themes coming later on-check series materialist for the complete list)

~5k words(First chapter turned out longer than expected..sorry abt that)

Comments and Reblogs are appreciated 💜

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ♫♬♪: "Woke up in Japan" by 5sos

7:42 AM

“Are you still asleep?!” Shizuru’s hands jolt you awake, practically sending you flying out of your dreams. “Damn, you’re going to be late for class again!”

You blink groggily, your mind struggling to catch up with reality. Less than twenty minutes to make it to campus, and here you are, still snuggled in the warm embrace of your blankets. Last night, you’d fallen asleep mid-jam session, headphones still on, your beloved guitar resting in your lap like a loyal dog. Papers are strewn about your room like confetti from a failed celebration, and as you tilt your head to one side, you feel Shizuru shaking you again.

“Wake up!” she insists, her voice a mix of exasperation and amusement.

With a jolt, your eyes flutter open, and you’re immediately met with the relentless buzzing of your phone alarm on the nightstand. “Shit, it’s late!” you exclaim, snatching it up. As you read the time, your heart drops. “NO WAY! IT’S THIS LATE… Shit, no, no!”

In a whirlwind of panic, you leap out of bed, your feet somehow getting tangled in your own guitar. You trip and stumble, barely managing to grab a pair of wide-leg jeans and your favorite cropped sweater from the drawer as you dash toward the bathroom.

“Whoa, watch out!” you yell, just as you collide with a shirtless guy who seems to have wandered into your apartment, probably one of Shizuru's late-night visitors.

“Hey, good morning to you, Sleeping Beauty… You must be Shizuru's roomie,” he greets you, completely unfazed by your chaotic entrance. You feel your cheeks flush as you awkwardly try to cover your exposed legs, the oversized t-shirt you're wearing doing little to help. “Yes… it’s me… nice to meet you,” you stammer, trying to muster a smile despite the embarrassment. “Ehm… I’d love to chat, but I really have to go… I’m late again…for uni I mean” you clear your throat, trying not to cringe at your own goofiness.

With that, you escape into the bathroom, your laughter mingled with anxiety echoing through the hallway. Just before you close the door, you notice your roomie still standing in the corridor with her mocking grin, and you turn back to Shizuru, mouthing a whispered rebuke. “Who's him, 'Zuru? Can you at least give me a heads-up next time a guy stays over?” your frustrated words elicit a chuckle from the pink-haired girl "you know…so that I can avoid being caught half naked by a stranger again…"

Shrugging, she just gives you an amused look, clearly entertained by your morning fiasco. Still flustered, you crank up the shower without checking the temperature. The moment the water hits you, you realize too late that it’s scalding hot. “AHHH! That’s not what I signed up for!” you yelp, jumping back, only to drop the bottle of lotion, which thuds loudly against the tiles.

In the kitchen, Shizuru and her date exchange glances, the sound of the lotion bottle crashing resonating through the apartment.

“Is she okay?” he asks, a teasing smirk on his lips.

“Yeah, she’ll be fine—just a typical morning of hers. This girl’s trouble,” Shizuru replies with a roll of her eyes.

Finally, you emerge from the bathroom, steam billowing out behind you like a dramatic exit from a soap opera. You grab your bag and beloved headphones, rushing toward the door. “I’m leaving! See you later, Zuru!”

Just as you’re about to vanish, you pop your head back through the door, suddenly reminded of the other person in the apartment “Oh, and… it was nice to meet you, uh… Kenji?” you attempt a name, hoping it will be the right one this time…it's definitely hard to keep up with Shizuru's adventurous love life…

"Yeah... whatever…" The guy looks at Shizuru, bewildered. “Who the hell is Kenji again?”

Shizuru mentally curses your terrible memory... you've mistaken him for her previous date “Told you she’s completely bonkers,” she mutters, shaking her head, before smoothly shifting to another topic.

...

Just then, another door swings open in the hallway, the one of apartment 24, right next to yours. Yuji Itadori, your neighbor, waves goodbye to his older brother, Choso, while chewing on a half-eaten sandwich…

You are too ingrossed in your phone to notice him and you and Yuji end up slamming into each other, a comedic collision of morning chaos. “hey careful here...oh it's you! Good morning!” you both exclaim, chuckling at your synchronized enthusiasm.

Yuji is the sweetest guy ever—an actual angel. He’s a bit younger than you, but since you moved to Japan to study, he’s always been there to lend a hand, whether it’s carrying heavy grocery bags or rescuing you and your roomie when your apartment almost caught fire. “Setting off for uni already?” he asks, flashing that bright smile of his.

“Yes… classes start in ten minutes, but I’ve made my peace with being late…” you shamelessly admit with a smile, glancing at your phone. There was something about Yuji's candor that made you feel at ease, as if you could tell him about the most embarrassing thing you've done without being judged at all.

“By the way… how’s school going, Yuji?” You can’t just run off without exchanging a few words with him; he’s too lovely.

“I've joined two more clubs this year, but…” Yuji sighs dramatically, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his backpack. “Science is driving me mad! I can’t keep up with both biology and chemistry at the same time!”

“Oh no, Biology and Chemistry together in the same sentence sound scary…” you agree, genuinely feeling for him. Without thinking twice, you suggest, “I still have some remnants of knowledge from high school. I could help you with your homework… if you want, of course!”

His big doe eyes light up with gratefulness. “Would you really do this for me? Thank you!!” he exclaims, nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement. Yuji's spontaneous reactions were always too precious, you simply can't say no to this guy. Not that you mind being around him actually.

“Yeah, no problem! That’s what neighbors are for, right?” You smile back, feeling a warm glow at his enthusiasm. “ok then…When do you want to start?”

“Let me think…" he taps his finger on his temple, feigning a not so credible hesitation "How about this afternoon?" He spits out soon after, a goofy smile on his lips "eheh...The situation is bordering on desperate here, and I have a test next week…” He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Is it that bad?” You muse, trying to suppress a laugh. “Okay, okay… don’t worry, Yuji, I can help. How about this afternoon, around 5?”

“5 PM sounds perfect for me!” He looks at you like you’re his personal superhero. “We both should really go now…" he says, glancing down at the ridiculous time displayed on his screen "see you later, then!”

“Yeah, we definitely should” you agree, putting your headphones on as you begin to walk toward the lift. "See you later!"

“Thank you! You’re the best!” Yuji’s voice rings in your ears once again before you disappear behind the doors, your heart a little lighter and your day a little brighter.

…

“I'm home, Cho!” Yuji bursts through the door like a whirlwind after a long day of classes, his shoes and backpack tumbling onto the doorstep in a chaotic heap. The moment he steps inside, his energy lights up the quietness of the living room.

Choso lounges on the couch, wearing an expression that screams “boredom” as he stares blankly at the TV, probably rewatching the same episode of some mind-numbing comedy series in the strenuous attempt to kill his time until Yuji would be home from school.

“Hey, you’re back earlier today!” the guy says, glancing at the clock. “Were Megumi and Nobara too busy to hang out this afternoon?” His curiosity is piqued, especially since Yuji hasn’t plopped down on the couch beside him yet; instead, he busies himself gathering the avalanche of papers scattered across the living room floor and fluffing the couch cushions like a domestic tornado.

Choso sighs and lazily stands up, trailing after Yuji to the kitchen, where he surprises his brother wrestling with a mountain of neglected dishes in the sink.

“What are you doing? Did we suddenly become a popular hangout spot and I missed the memo?” Choso asks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, his pigtails swaying back and forth in rhythm with his thoughts.

“Oh, yes! Totally forgot to text you about this!” Yuji muses, a casual shrug accompanying his words. “ Our neighbor from the 23 is coming over to help me with my science homework.” He says it as if it were the most normal thing in the world, but Choso’s eyebrows shoot up, a mixture of panic and confusion etched on his face. Someone. A girl, to boot, is going to visit them…since when?

“Which one of the girls next door? The new one?” Choso’s memory is a little foggy; he’d caught only a glimpse of you moving in nearly a month ago, awkwardly maneuvering your staff in the hallway like a wizard trying to find their way in a Muggle world.

He’s always been the king of avoiding small talk and the awkwardness of handshakes, not to mention the sheer horror of forgetting someone's name right after meeting them. What he dreaded most, though, were the judgmental glances he received from strangers, as if his unconventional style was a neon sign saying, “Please stare at me!”. It basically feels like his worst nightmare is coming true in front of his eyes right now.

He looks at Yuji in horror, hoping he will get the hint, but his eyes soften as he watches his hyperactive little brother. How could he understand? Yuji is the complete opposite of him. He was a social butterfly, flitting from person to person, charming everyone in the neighborhood with that infectious smile of his.

“Yes, her…” Yuji confirms, trying to gauge Choso’s reaction. But Choso is still sulking, clearly annoyed that his afternoon plans with Yuji have officially been hijacked. “You know… she’s really nice. Always checking in on how school’s going. In fact, she was the one who offered to help me!” Yuji tries to cheer up the conversation.

“You could’ve just asked me for help!” Choso retorts, his tone dripping with faux indignation as he crosses his strong arms, frowning at his brother.

“And when exactly did you become a master of subscripts in bulk and balancing chemical equations?” Yuji teases, clearly enjoying this little sparring match.

Choso plops down at the kitchen table, pouting like a child denied dessert. “I could’ve helped you by reading the books first and then explaining it to you! You know I’ve gotten pretty good at explaining stuff by now!” He tries to sound defensive, but the corners of his mouth betray him, earning a chuckle from Yuji.

Just then, the doorbell rings, echoing through the apartment like a dramatic soundtrack. “Cho, please open the door for me, will you? I need a sec to finish here!” Yuji’s request sends Choso into a minor panic. He definitely wasn't prepared for this…greetings have never been his thing. But he stands up from his seat nonetheless "Just because it's you Yuji". He squares his shoulders, taking a deep breath, and dragging his feet toward the door.

As he approaches it, he can't help wondering what he was getting himself into. Would this new girl find him weird? With a final gulp, he grasps the doorknob, hiding his nerves under his usual expressionless pout, the one Yuji calls his typical 'resting bitch face': He is now officially ready for the most awkward encounter of his life.

…

On the other side of the door, you stand, nervously clutching a couple of library books to your chest. They are your secret weapons for the afternoon, intended to help Yuji with his homework.

When the door finally swings open, you are completely unprepared for what greets you…or better, who does: there he stands,a well-built guy you've never seen around before, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, arms crossed, with an air of casually intimidating coolness. He is tall and pale, his skin seemingly untouched by sunlight for ages, giving him an otherworldly vibe. His eyes are heavy-lidded, dark circles framing them like a pair of ominous shadows, and he's studying you from head to toe as if you were a particularly perplexing puzzle.

You soon realize who you were standing in front of: none other than Yuuji's legendary, ever-elusive older brother—the one your roommate dubbed “the ghost of the block” whenever he comes up in conversation. You’d heard the wildest theories about him: some claim he was a sort of anarchist scribbling deep thoughts on walls in the dead of night, while others insist he was part of a notorious gang that roamed the outskirts of Tokyo. Now, as you take in the towering figure before you, you can somewhat understand the origins of these myths. Still, you think most of them are definitely a bit too imaginative—like something out of a late-night anime binge.

“Um, hi…” you manage to stammer after a while, your voice barely rising above the awkward silence that fills the air like thick fog. “Is Yuji home?” You shift your weight from one foot to the other, trying to look more composed than you feel. “I came to help him with his homework. I know he’s been struggling with advanced chemistry… it’s like a nightmare waiting to happen, right?” You attempt to lighten the mood with a joke, your smile widening in hopes of breaking the tension.

But the guy, who appears more or less your same age, doesn't seem to register your words. He simply stands there, studying you with an intensity that makes your heart race. You avert your gaze for a second, trying to catch some more information about him by his body language, but your gaze lands on his crossed-arms figure: he seems tense too, you can even see the outline of his impressive biceps flexing through the puckered fabric of his oversized shirt.

Choso seems to notice your wandering stare and sighs deeply. He hides his embarrassment behind a wall of annoyance caused by your wandering eyes, even if he himself has already checked out the way your figure all wrapped up in an old oversized leather jacket appears so much smaller than his one.

You quickly recompose yourself, finally daring to meet his unwavering stare. You feel a bit like a deer caught in headlights, every detail about you being scrutinized—the way you nervously hug your books, the slight tremor in your hands, the way your shoulders move as you speak. His gaze is shamelessly unyielding, and you can feel the awkwardness stretching like an elastic band, ready to snap.

A heavy silence envelops you two and you mentally kick yourself for being such a chatterbox in these kinds of situations. Why couldn’t you be one of those cool people who could effortlessly glide through awkward moments? Instead, you feel like a blabbering fool and decide it was best to just... stop talking.

Choso, however, is still lost in his own thoughts, his mind swirling with confusion. There is something unsettling in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite place. He doesn't trust you, not at all, and the idea of you being close to his brother doesn't sit well with him. But as you smile again, a genuine warmth behind your nervousness, he finds himself snapping back to reality.

“Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself… I’m such a fool,” you say, bowing your head slightly in an awkward attempt to ease the tension but helplessly ending up betraying your own vow of silence. You remind him your name,not sure that Yuji has already prevented him of your arrival. “I moved here a month ago. I don't think we were ever properly introduced before…” You flash another smile, and for a heartbeat, you can swear you've seen a faint blush creeping up his nose, right on the bold tattoo that marks his face.

He quickly presses his lips in an emotionless smile “Mhm… Choso,” he murmurs, finally stepping back to let you inside, the moment stretching out far longer than necessary.

Choso… you take a moment to roll the name around in your head, savoring its mystery. You've never heard this name before but it seems fitting for someone like him… eye-catching, extravagant. Dressed in oversized, baggy clothes that swallow him whole, with his peculiar bangs carelessly falling over his forehead, just above the furrowed brows that give him a perpetually serious expression. He looks like the kind of guy you would usually meet in the dimly lit club you work in, all adorned in chains and vibing to hardcore EDM beats until dawn. But there's also something undeniably intriguing about him—a peculiar charm that makes him weirdly attractive despite his gruff demeanor.

As you step inside, the awkwardness of the scene stretches on: Choso stands next to you, a silent statue in the cramped corridor, while you internally debate whether to break the ice with a joke about his “ghostly” reputation. Thankfully, just as the tension reaches critical levels, Yuji’s familiar, friendly face pops out of the kitchen, like a ray of sunshine cutting through the clouds of your social anxiety. “Hi! You made it in the end!” He greets you enthusiastically.

“Hey Yuji! Told you I’d swing by to help today! I even hit up the campus library to grab some books… maybe they’ll help…” you say, trying to sound as casual as possible while internally cringing at your own nerdiness.

“Great! Anything could be useful at this point… I can’t thank you enough for your help, really. Advanced chemistry sounds like rocket science to me, eheh…” Yuji gesticulates wildly, taking a step closer and starting to bow comically, as if trying to convey the depths of his gratitude through exaggerated movements.

“You really don’t need to thank me, Yuji… especially not after you saved our apartment from catching fire just a few weeks ago…” You smile back at him, glancing at Choso, whose eyes widen in shock at the mention of his little brother performing some kind of heroic act. He swallows soundly, making a mental note to return to the topic once you've left the apartment.

“I even got the chance to meet your brother! We never had the chance to—” you shut yourself, unexpectedly feeling Choso tensing up once again beside you, suddenly aware he was the center of attention, which is clearly not his favorite place to be.

“Yeah… Cho’s a bit of a couch potato,” Yuji teases, throwing his brother under the bus with a playful grin. Choso in return, can't help shooting him a glare that could have melted steel.

“Hey… it’s not that! I just… don’t have time to hang out a lot. I’m busy here at home,” he replies, his tone firm and proud, though you still can sense the discomfort lurking beneath his casual words.

“Oh… that’s for sure, Cho…” Yuji laughs, barely dodging the dangerously intimidating glare from his brother. “Come in, please! We can start whenever you want. Let me grab my notes and a pen!” He ushers you into the kitchen, providing you with the opportunity to survey the apartment. You are pleasantly surprised to find it tidier than expected for a pair of guys living alone—definitely a far cry from the chaos that sometimes rages in your and Shizuru's shared apartment.

Yuji gestures for you to sit at the kitchen table, where Choso sat barely minutes before. “Make yourself at home! What can I offer you?” he asks, opening the fridge like a magician revealing his next trick while you remove your earphones and shrug off your beloved vintage oversized leather jacket.

Choso lingers silently by the doorway, watching you like a hawk. He notices how you seemed to curl into yourself, trying to occupy the least amount of space possible, yet your curious eyes dart around their apartment, making him feel oddly exposed—as if you could read into his deepest secrets by the way his favourite mug was decorated. He surely notices the way you delicately place your earphones on the table like they are precious artifacts while your bag has been unceremoniously tossed aside.

Just then, you catch him staring and manage to give him another timid smile, but his stoic mask doesn't budge a millimeter. Again. At this point you are sure he doesn't like you. At all…

“Don’t worry about me, Yuji…” you stammer, trying to fill the awkward silence. “A glass of water will be more than fine… Your apartment looks very cozy, guys.” You desperately attempt to keep the conversation flowing (and distract Choso from scrutinizing your every move.)

Yuji hands you a glass of water, and you down it in one gulp, your throat suddenly parched from both the walk and the weight of Choso’s gaze. Does he really intend to stare at you this whole time?

Yuji plops down next to you, rifling through his notes to kick off the lesson. “What I really can’t wrap my head around in advanced chemistry are all those tiny signs you scribble above reactions, you know?” He fidgets with the pages until he finds what he meant, his notes looking like doodles from an adorable hyperactive child. “Here it is…” he says, handing you the notebook opened to a specific page, momentarily distracting you from your embarrassment.

Choso, however, seems to have eyes only for you. He notices how your hair fell over your face as you leaned in to read and feels a strange urge to understand what made you so captivating to his brother. His gaze lands on the small leather string around your neck, recognising that sort of tight necklace girls around the crowded Tokyo streets usually wear… Nobara says they're called 'chokers' but Choso couldn't really understand the ultimate meaning of those, ending up mentally scolding himself for being distracted by fashion trends when he should have been focusing on the lesson.

Meanwhile, you have already launched into an enthusiastic explanation about superscripts and subscripts in chemistry, Yuji completely engrossed, nodding along like a bobblehead.

Choso tries to keep up at first, but quickly gives up when you start discussing the periodic table and isotopes, realizing he must have looked like a creep this whole time. He decides that you are more than capable of taking care of his little brother… for now. “I’ll be in my room in case you two need me…” his deep, rough voice breaks into your explanation, and you seize the moment to inform Yuji that you have to leave early today.

“Okay, thank you...By the way, Yuji, I forgot to mention—I really have to head out by six today. Sorry about that. I work tonight. We can also continue another time; I’m available for as many lessons as you need before the test!” You hastily add.

“Yeah? Don’t worry about that… Work? Did you get a job already?” Yuji asks, his eyes lighting up, while Choso stops mid-step in the corridor, curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, I did! I’ve been working as a bartender in this small club for a week now. It’s called The Queen of the Night… you know, that little music pub nearby Shimokita…” you explain, your heart swelling with excitement. “I really enjoy it, actually! I’ve learned how to whip up colorful, scented cocktails, and the best part is that I’m in my natural element all night!” You giggle.

“That sounds amazing! I know how much of a music lover you are…” Yuji exclaimes, his enthusiasm infectious “ so you usually work during the night, right? How late do you get off?”

Choso finds himself fighting against the urge to eavesdrop as he makes his way down the hallway toward his room. The lively chatter coming from the kitchen have unexpectedly ignited a spark of curiosity deep within him—a feeling he can't quite name. It tugs at the corners of his mind, compelling him to pivot on his heels and retrace his steps. So he casually strolls back into the kitchen, feigning nonchalance as he reaches for a Coke from the fridge, all the while straining to catch snippets of the conversation.

“Yeah… my shift usually runs from 8 pm until… well, sometimes sunrise,” you laugh lightly, your voice laced with a blend of humor and weariness as you noticed Choso’s return. “I guess the upside is that I get to watch the sun rising at the end of my shift…”

Yuuji’s smile falters momentarily, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Damn… so you’re telling me you work until 4 or 5 in the morning?” Choso catches the hint of concern in Yuji’s voice, a protective instinct inexplicably flaring up in him. The thought of you, his far too chatty neighbor, serving drinks amidst a sea of inebriated patrons somehow sends a wave of unease coursing through him. He envisions your graceful figure navigating the club, your outgoing personality potentially misinterpreted as an invitation for unwanted attention... The Coke can he had picked up now feels like a vice in his hand, his grip tightening involuntarily as his innate protectiveness surges within him—it simply doesn't sit right.

"Does anyone at least pick you up from there?" The words slip out before he can fully process them, surprising even himself. He turns his back to the counter, his tone harsher than intended, the concern bleeding through the facade of indifference he usually wore.

“Sorry?” You blink, taken aback by his sudden inquiry.

“I asked if anyone usually picks you up when it’s that late,” Choso repeats, successfully trying to erase any hint of concern from his tone. “It’s not safe for a girl like you to be wandering the streets alone at that hour…” He turns to face you now, focusing on maintaining his usual stoic expression, but the intensity of his gaze betrays him the second your eyes meet. Was the ‘ghost of the block’ really checking on your safety?

“I… don’t worry about me. I’m used to it.” You manage to stammer, a mix of surprise and embarrassment creeping on your cheeks “I used to go to clubs even before I started working in one,” you reply, trying to downplay the gravity of the situation. Yet, the truth is that the thought of returning home all alone in the dead of night is still unsettling to you, regardless of how many times you already did it. You simply shrug, feeling exposed under the weight of Choso's piercing gaze, which narrows as he keeps on scrutinizing your fragile demeanor. Choso struggles to keep his composure, the dark images racing through his mind as he assesses your vulnerability weighing heavily on him. He knew all too well the kind of atrocities male humans are capable of, the kinds of men (not to mention other kinds of entities) who could take advantage of someone like you...or even worse. How could you be so carefree about it? Your nonchalant behaviour ignites a fierce anger within him.

“Tch…” he mutters, his eyes glazing over as he falls into his own thoughts. “All it takes is one creep…” he muses gravely to himself, the gravity of some mysterious memories settling like a storm cloud over him.

He's definitely hiding something- you notice. Your eyes flicker nervously between Yuji and Choso, trying to make sense of the tension thickening in the room. Yuji, his usual carefree demeanor now clouded with concern, clears his throat before speaking up. “Cho’s right... don’t you have anyone who can walk you home? I can do it for you…” His offer hangs in the air, earnest and almost too sweet, and your chest tightens at the sight of his genuine care.

You shook your head quickly, hoping your refusal won't sting too much. “It’s really not a problem... I can handle it myself. Besides, you’ve got school, Yuji. You shouldn’t be out so late anyways..” The words feel too soft, almost like an apology, as if you are rejecting him in some way, but you can't quite bring yourself to hurt his feelings. And still, you can feel Choso’s eyes on you, sharp and unreadable, like he is secretly waiting for something more from you.

Yuji pauses, his face faltering for just a moment before he turns to his brother. “Okay... well, if not me…” he glances back at you, then to Choso. “Maybe Choso could walk you. Shouldn’t be a problem for him, right Cho?”

Your stomach drops. There it it again—the unspoken weight in Choso’s presence. The thought of being alone with him, of walking the streets at night with Yuji’s intimidating older brother, stirs a sudden anxiety in you. It's not that you don't trust Choso, but something about the silent intensity in his gaze makes you uneasy.

“No…” You interrupt a little too sharply, the words spilling out in haste. “There’s really no need, honestly.” You try to soften your tone, but it still feels rude, especially with the way Yuji’s hopeful eyes are now fixed on you. “It’s not dangerous at all. I even walk part of the way with a colleague. She lives just down the block,” you lie, the guilt curling in your chest.

Yuji and Choso exchange a quiet look��something unreadable passing between them. Yuji’s smile is a little strained as he speaks again, “Alright, then... but can you at least let us know when you’re home? We’ll still be worried…and don’t worry about waking us up: we’re kinda used to late nights, aren’t we Cho?” His attempt to lighten the mood falls flat, and Choso’s subtle shift in expression doesn't escape your notice. A faint widening of his eyes, barely perceptible, speaks volumes—of things only Yuji and him could fully understand. Choso tries to keep his composure once again, even if Yuji's blunt hint at the nightly missions Jujutsu High usually assign them has certainly caught him by surprise.

Choso doesn't speak, just gives a small nod in agreement, and you finally relent, your lips curling into a tentative smile in gratitude. You can feel the weight of his silence pressing in as he turns away. His broad frame leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed tightly over his chest. For a moment, you think he might say something more—but instead, he simply leaves the room, his heavy footsteps fading into the distance, leaving behind a silence that felt far too loud in the aftermath.

You tried your best to refocus on your study session with Yuji afterwards, but your mind kept drifting back to Choso: there was something about the way he had looked at you before—a look that stirs a strange, unsettling feeling. It isn't fear, not exactly, but there is a tension there that you can't ignore. Is he really the cold, dangerous figure everyone said he is? Or is he just... awkward, a big guy in a world too small for him? You can't really understand it. And as your study session wears on, you are remembered about the agreement you came to before, resigned to feel that unsettling pull in your chest again later tonight…

85 notes · View notes

dark-frosted-heart · 10 months ago

Text

I Love You, I've Sinned - Azel

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

One day during my stay in Tanzanite, I wound up becoming a servant to God—

Emma: Prince Azel…Is it true that you deliver divine punishment to people?

When I asked Prince Azel about this after handing him something he had me fetch for him in town, rather than giving me his usual smile, he scowled.

Azel: What did you see while out in town?

Emma: There was theft in the market today. The criminal was immediately captured by a passerby—

~~ Flashback ~~

Male onlooker: How dare you…Never did I expect that there would be such a ruckus in God’s own land.

Female onlooker: You will face divine punishment. Our Living God will not forgive you.

~~ Flashback end~~

Emma: —It seemed like everyone, the thieves included, feared “divine punishment”.

Azel: Absurd.

Emma: Have you ever threatened people across the country in the past?

Azel: That slander deserves some reparations.

Emma: I can’t say anything at all can I…

Azel: Don’t talk nonsense unless you want to experience divine punishment for yourself.

Emma: Ah, so divine punishment does exist.

Azel: Who knows?

After checking what he had me get for him, Prince Azel placed the jute bag in a corner of the crumbling ruins.

The temple which was supposed to be the Living God’s home, was as shabby as ever.

(Prince Azel’s a two-faced god, so it’d be scary if he actually did deliver divine punishment…)

Azel: Have you ever sinned?

Seems like Prince Azel’s in a good mood if he’s continuing the conversation even though he said not to talk about nonsense.

Emma: Probably…not

Azel: You’re lying.

Emma: Why do you say so?

Azel: Because no humans are without sin.

Emma: …Wouldn’t that mean everyone’s been imprisoned before?

Azel: Has anyone ever told you how empty your head is?

Emma: This is the first.

Azel: Have you never been exposed as an idiot before?

(You have a response for everything…)

Prince Azel leaned against a wall in the shade.

I followed suit and took a sip of water out of my flask.

Azel: Only acts that violate the law aren’t sins. Sins are actions that deserve God’s divine punishment.

Emma: So only God has control?

Azel: Is that so bad?

Emma: …No.

Azel: Simply put, anything you think you’re guilty of is a sin. Surely you’ve also been guilty of something to some extent. Whether it’s telling small lies, hiding things from others, or doing something to hurt someone unintentionally… As long as you’re alive, it’s hard to avoid them.

Emma: Well when you put it that way.

(Then, looking back, I probably have too)

(Sins that I need to apologize for…)

Azel: Confess your sins to God, and through receiving divine punishment, all will be forgiven. Perhaps that’s why people seek God…How laughable.

(Hm?)

Mysterious, starry eyes look at the flask in my hand.

Emma: …I’m not giving it to you?

Azel: Stingy.

Emma: I don’t want to hear that from a greedy god.

Azel [polite]: Ahhh, then at this rate I will dry up and die.

Emma: …

Azel [polite]: For a human to treat a god so cruelly…That’s god abuse.

Emma: …

Azel [polite]: God abuse is a felony and the charges cannot be compared to any that has existed to this point—

Emma: OKAY! Then in exchange for the water, please forget that the reparations demanded earlier ever existed.

Azel [polite]: Of course. Thank you very much.

(Can’t believe you put on the god act in times like this…)

When I handed Prince Azel the flask, he started drinking immediately.

(I don’t mind giving him water, but…does Prince Azel care at all?)

Feeling restless somehow, I turned my gaze away from the mysterious god and toward the ruins.

(...)

(If god abuse is a sin, then…)

(There’s one guilty sin I remember)

—That night.

When I came to, I found myself in place with half-bloomed roses.

(I’m here again…)

The usual dream in the usual place, but today, there was something unusual.

At the end of the countless paths stood a figure.

That person sat improperly on the oak table where a book usually was, and as I walked down the path, he turned from the large full moon in the sky toward me.

Azel: We ran into each other in a dream? …Give me a break.

Emma: That’s my line. It’s not like I enjoy running into you either.

(I heard that dreams have some deep psychological meaning, but…)

(I wonder if seeing Prince Azel means he’s occupying my mind that much)

(...That being a good or bad thing’s another story)

Azel sat on the table with one knee up and looked down at me cheekily.

It was like the dream world enhanced his mysterious, inhuman appearance.

Emma: …You’re not here to deliver divine punishment, are you?

Azel: If you’re feeling guilty then maybe.

Emma: …

Azel: You are.

Emma: Who knows…

Azel: Sins are forgiven when you confess. It’s easier to let it out than to suffer in distress, that’s just how it is.

Emma: …

Azel: Say it, then. If you seriously ask for forgiveness, then I’ll deliver divine punishment to you. …It’s not a free service though.

(That’s why he’s so oddly assertive)

Emma: Nevermind then.

Azel: No, ask for forgiveness. Or else this dream won’t end.

Emma: That’s a threat!

Azel: Talking back to God like that’s asking for more to be added on to what you owe.

(...If Prince Azel wasn’t a real god, then I could ignore him)

Tanzanite’s living god was a true god, recognized and revered as sacred throughout the continent.

Even if the face he showed me was different from the face he showed the public, I wouldn’t dare to ignore God’s word.

Emma: …Will you listen without getting angry?

Azel: That depends.

Emma: To tell you the truth… The other day, I saw you taking a nap. Even when I got closer, you didn’t wake up, so… …Out of curiosity, I played with your beautiful, silver hair.

Azel: …

Emma: I’m so sorry! But it felt really nice to touch!

Azel: That’s a grave sin.

When I tried to run away, Prince Azel lept off the table and stopped me with a hand on my shoulder before jabbing my cheek.

Emma: Please stop! The jabbing really feels like you’re going to hollow my cheeks out!

Azel: Accept your punishment. I noticed your eccentric behavior though.

Emma: Then why didn’t you wake up?

Azel: I wasn’t in the mood to entertain you.

(A very Prince Azel-like reason)

When he finally released me, I rubbed my cheek.

(Even though I suffered…my heart definitely feels lighter)

(I can’t let him off easy…)

Emma: Have you ever sinned, Prince Azel?

When I asked the question in retaliation, he shrugged in exasperation.

Azel: How could a god sin?

Emma: At it again…

Azel: If there’s no one to punish it, then it’s not a sin. If neither man nor god can punish me, then no one can punish me for my sins.

Emma: …

Azel: Perhaps one day God will commit a mortal sin. When that time comes…I wonder who will sit on the Throne of God and punish me.

Prince Azel’s mutterings melted into the dream space.

(That…doesn’t sound like a joke…)

Emma: Leave it to me. If it needs to be done, I’ll do it.

As if to dispel the mysterious aura around the god, I made a proud declaration.

Emma: I hope your cheeks will be able to stand it.

Azel: That doesn’t sound like a big punishment to me.

Emma: Stay complacent while you can. I have a mean slap.

Azel: …No one’s asking you to slap me.

Emma: If it doesn’t hurt, then it’s not a punishment worthy of being divine punishment.

When I pretended to slap him, Prince Azel smiled condescendingly.

However, there didn’t appear to be any ill intentions behind the smile.

Azel: If God were to sin, then it would be a sin on a different level from humans. Possibly enough to wipe out an entire country. Punish that sin if you can…Actually you might do that.

Prince Azel looked up at the glittering moon in the dream world.

I still wasn’t sure about the meaning behind that melancholic look on his profile.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #azel radwan #ikepri azel

161 notes · View notes

xxnashiraxx · 7 days ago

Text

♡ Midsummer: A Raspberry Flush and Blingdenstone Blush ♡

AHHH!! Hi everyone!! I'd like to share a collaboration between @pinkberrytea and me!! We decided to do OC kiss week and exchange some arts of our gals Ofelia and Mavka and like the unhinged people we are, we also wrote a one-shot each as well as created playlists!!!

This was so fun, and such a wonderful experience and I loved writing Mavka- she's such a beautiful and sweet character and it was so fun that I definitely will be doing it again!!!

My arts will be below with the photoset, it's a different kind of style I've not really tried before but it was super fun and I enjoyed every minute 💗

dividers here & here!

Summary: Adjusting to a new world is never easy, but when you meet someone you click with, everything seems just a little brighter. From the beach to the tiefling party, Ofelia forges a bond with the mysterious tiefling she found after crashing from the nautiloid, and every day they grow more inseparable an inescapable fondness blooms between them. Carried on a whirlwind of longing and doubt, Ofelia struggles with giving in to the feeling or sparing her friend from further strain on her already warring mind...

Pairing: Ofelia (tav oc) x Mavka (durge oc)

Warnings: Mature, Alcohol Consumption, Slight Angst

Word Count: 5,893

Music:

The heat, choking and humid, trips up each step, hindering their path. They traverse the landscape through swamps and burning inns, longing for relief—relief from this summer sun, relief from simmering evenings, relief from the tadpole.

“I’d kill for an ice cream right now,” Ofelia murmurs, resting with her back against a log, the campfire barely licking at the charred logs above it. From the corner of her eye, a light pink tail flicks in acknowledgment.

“Ice cream?”

The voice at her side is soft and slightly bemused, her fingers working on the little crossword Ofelia had written out for her on the pages of her journal. Something else she’d introduced Mav to the concept of.

“Yeah… it’s like frozen milk but with a lot of sugar- super sweet, like toothache sweet- but it’s amazing… and it’s perfect when it’s so hot I want to rip my skin off. Like right now.” Mav’s light laugh tinkles in Ofelia’s ears, like the sound of bells. A clear ring that sparks an idea, begging to be acted upon.

“Ah!!! I know!” Ofelia shoots up, startling the tiefling beside her, and she places a hand on Mav’s shoulder. “Wait here- I have a really good idea!”

It’d been as easy as a leaf blown over in a light gust to convince Gale to help her, and after some foraging in their packs for the necessary ingredients- and those from the inn they’d picked clean- Ofelia’s certain she’s the first in Faerun to invent ‘Ray of Frost’ popsicles.

She holds her creation aloft, deep red from the berries she’d crushed to make it, and gives it a tentative lick. It’s not overly sweet like she’d find back home, but it’s deceptively lovely- an instant relief from their balmy evenings.

“Try one and pass them out,” Ofelia says to their resident wizard, fetching another from the batch before bringing it over to Mav.

She’s relaxing by her tent now, humming softly as she thumbs through a book. The fire catches in her jewel-toned irises as Ofelia approaches, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. Will she like it?

“Ooh, what’s that?” Her friend sits up, gaze snagging on the stick in Ofelia’s right hand. She flushes, holding it out to her, watching with bated breath as Mav inspects the frozen treat.

“It’s a popsicle… it’s kind of sweet, I used berries and some cane sugar- or what was left of it- and water. Gale helped me freeze them.” Ofelia says, nibbling on her lip as she watches Mav bring it to hers.

They part, tongue snaking out to test the texture, and Ofelia smiles when her eyes go wide. A couple more and she’s humming contentedly.

“It tastes good!” She says, patting the cushion at her side, and Ofelia obliges with a relieved exhale.

The two of them share the silence, enjoying the cool reprieve from days and days of nothing but miserable discomfort. It’s enough to lift Ofelia’s spirits- about their quest, their predicament- all of it. She finds her eye wandering again, enamored by the friend she’s found during this journey- unlikely, but welcome.

They’ve already seen and been through so much- from evil hags and terrifying gnolls to Mav’s unfortunate bit of murder in the night. Troubled as they are, the two of them have been inseparable through it all. It’d been Ofelia who helped wash the blood off Mav’s hands, who’d tucked her in her arms and told her it’d be alright. When Ofelia felt down, Mav was right there, offering a kind word and caring embrace.

Being so far from Earth doesn’t seem so bad when they’re together. It’s a bond she’s not forged as strongly with anyone else. Shadowheart’s attended a few of their girls’ night gatherings, and so has Karlach. They sometimes loop Astarion into their antics, dance with Wyll, sit with Gale and help cook dinner, or learn how to fight with Lae’zel… but at the end of the day, Ofelia finds that she’s been seeking her cherry blossom-haired friend’s company more and more than the others…

They’ve spent so many nights together talking- about Mav’s gaps in her memory, about Ofelia’s tragic past. It’s made them stronger- closer. Ofelia’s heart swells to think about how she’s managed to find something so precious- something she’d been lacking sorely back home. Every time she catches Mav’s eyes or she finds herself staring, there’s a flutter- a tantalizing truth that she shies from in fear.

It’s terrifying and raw, but when Mav’s deep pink eyes flit to hers, a trail of red juice trickling over her lips, Ofelia can’t help but get lost in the fantasy of licking it clean for her.

She turns away, cheeks burning as she busies herself on licking the popsicle, trying to clear her mind.

It’s been… weeks. It’s far too soon to be feeling like this, isn’t it? Ofelia sighs quietly, punishing thoughts of self-deprecation trembling across her mind. It is too soon… she’ll just savor the soft daydreams instead. After all, they’re constantly at risk of not seeing the morning- better to not complicate everything with feelings that have barely blossomed.

“I never would have imagined something like this to be so good,” Mav says, her face bright and her smile sweet. Her tongue is stained and Ofelia finds herself laughing despite herself, garnering an inquisitive quirk of Mav’s eyebrows.

“Our tongues are red,” Ofelia smiles, sticking hers out to prove it, and the amusement that curls Mav’s lips up at the corners makes Ofelia’s heart skip a beat.

“It was good though- worth it, I think.” The tiefling murmurs, tail flicking in approval as she leans closer, the mock popsicle stick hanging at the corner of her mouth. Ofelia’s mind spins as her gaze falls to that rouged pout, fighting the urge to taste it as she polishes off her treat.

“Trust me, I’ve got plenty more Earth delicacies where that came from. I’ll make sure to share more,” Ofelia says with a grin, picturing all the things she could make. Dishes from her culture, candies, sweets… she meets Mav’s eager gaze and her lips widen.

“Promise me you won’t forget?”

“Promise,”

***

“How do I look?” Mav asks, twirling in the low light of the candles inside Ofelia’s tent. Her skirt is light and breezy, flowing around her legs as the bodice hugs her torso and accentuates her small waist. Her pink hair is half down, soft waves framing her face as the rest twists behind her elegant horns into an ornate knot. Ofelia is drawn to her chest, neckline low and sloping down, and as she clears her throat she meets Mav’s eyes with a soft flush.

“Beautiful,” She says, unrestrained reverence thickening each syllable. And Ofelia means it- lingering over the light fuchsia coloring Mav’s cheeks and dusting the tip of her pretty nose as Ofelia gazes back donning a scarlet of her own. “You’ll be waiting in the crowd?” Mav smiles.

“Front and center, just where I said I’d be.” Ofelia returns it, reaching out to tentatively brush her fingers down the long sleeve of Mav’s arm- gentle and soft. There’s a flicker of surprise over her light lilac face, the hint of a deep blush darkening her lips into a glossy mauve. A tug in Ofelia’s chest has her swallowing hard, avoiding the urge to find out what they taste like, before pulling away.

“Don’t forget I want the first dance,” Ofelia says, more to reinforce the idea so it won’t slip through her fingers. Astarion’s been getting a little too close for comfort, and though Ofelia has no right to it, she’d like to be the one who claims Mav as a dance partner before anyone else gets the chance.

“I won't,” She says with a wink.

Ofelia climbs the rock above their gathering of tieflings and druids, here to celebrate the goblin camp’s fall. A send-off before their long journey toward Baldur’s Gate. The bard at her right strums her lute as she tunes the strings, already well versed on the song Ofelia plans on playing as she pays her a kind smile.

“Ready?” Alfira asks, nodding to Volo, and Ofelia inclines her head in agreement.

“As I’ll ever be,”

It’s a lilting melody that echoes through the clearing, magic carrying each note high overhead as Ofelia’s fingers pluck each string with passionate purpose. Her eyes search the faces below until they fall on a pair of flaring rose irises, as if she’d been waiting for them to meet. A burst of uncertainty troubles Ofelia’s rapidly beating heart, but it’s gone the instant she opens her mouth- weaving her emotions through lyrics she hopes will reach Mavka where words have failed her thus far.

“Ah,

Now I don’t hardly know her,

But I think I could love her,

Crimson and Clover…

Ah,

Here she comes walking over,

I’ve been waiting to show her,

Crimson and Clover,

Over and over…”

Like a weight is sinking through her chest, their gazes remain tethered. Caught spellbound, Ofelia sings from the place she’s been locking everything away- her wishes for more, for their embraces to last longer, their fingers to stay interwoven tighter, for that gap that she longs to leap over to not be so wide… It’s a yawning void beneath, stretching deep and promising pain if her feelings aren’t met with the same delicate yearning.

Every day that passes she inches closer to the edge, priming for the jump. It’s an enduring state of torment, wanting so badly to be honest. She half hates herself for feeling this way- for falling so hard for someone already struggling through so much.

Adding Ofelia’s emotions to the mix of things she’s already trying to overcome seems more selfish than anything… Perhaps it’s better if she just confesses through the music- that way, she isn’t forcing Mav into the uncomfortable position of declining such a step forward. She’ll either get it, or she won’t…

But it’ll have to be enough…

Ofelia will make sure it’s enough.

“Yeah,

Well, I’m not such a sweet thing,

I wanna deal everything,

What a beautiful feeling…

Crimson and Clover,

Over and over…

Crimson and Clover,

Over and over…”

With a flourish of her fingers, she repeats the phrase like a mantra as she guides the melody through its rhapsodic finale. Every movement is imbued with careful consideration, flowing from the heart as intentionally as a lover’s caress. With one final breath, she locks eyes with Mav again, resolving to make sure she indulges in one of those bottles of wine she saw floating around earlier to drown her longing.

It’ll ease the pain of holding her affections at bay, especially while the two of them dance.

Praise and congratulations bounce off Ofelia’s sullen exterior, managing soft smiles and weary thank yous in return. She brushes off concern with excuses, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before Mavka will make her way through the bodies to find her.

Ofelia grabs the first bottle she sees and takes a deep pull, wincing at the bitterness that washes over her tongue, and when the object of her desires appears swathed in the golden lights hanging above and flaring from the torches, her chest aches. A stinging realization keeps her from reflecting Mav’s enthusiastic grin- the truth known to her.

No amount of drink will suffocate her sorrow.

Of that much, she’s certain.

“That was amazing!” Mav declares, bright smile contagious as she reaches out to pull the two of them into a tight hug. The light laugh is out of Ofelia’s mouth before she can stop it, though it seems to make Mav squeeze tighter.

“Thanks, Mav,” Ofelia murmurs into her lily-scented hair, fragrance bewitching and sweet. When Ofelia finally pulls away, it’s only because the tiefling grants it- face effervescent with joy and beauty so striking that it extracts Ofelia’s breath from her lungs in a rush of disbelief.

So this will be a lot harder than I thought…

“You promised me a dance,” Mav murmurs, flush deepening. She’s almost bashful, nature timid and reserved in a way Ofelia’s come to adore. She’s a gardenia- blooming in the night away from the harsh rays of the sun. Ever beautiful, illuminated by the moonlight, Ofelia doesn’t dare deny her.

Mav could ask her for the world, and Ofelia would find a way to deliver. No request too grand, Ofelia’s numb to them all- so deeply infatuated that she’d agree to anything.

“Looks like Shadowheart’s figured out the music,” Ofelia smiles, letting the sound stifle the unease that ripples beneath the surface of her skin.

She takes Mav’s right hand in hers, draping the tiefling’s arm over her shoulders before anchoring her own to the velvet-cinched waist before her. It fits in her grip in a way that tightens Ofelia’s throat- Mav’s quiet hum of appreciation mirroring Ofelia’s.

“You’re okay with me leading?” Ofelia tucks her face close and Mav nods, lips parting slightly.

A sudden flare of confidence thrums through Ofelia’s veins, joining the slight singe of alcohol as she settles into the role she feels most comfortable in. Dancing- ever her favored activity next to playing music. Slow, flamenco, traditional, salsa, cumbia, ballroom- she’s no stranger to any of it. It’s a hobby that she’d taught herself and learned from her mother- secure in the knowledge that she can at least give Mav this.

Twisting bodies surround them, moving to the beat like one living organism. They twirl and spin, concern melting into a joy so infectious that it leaves the pair laughing and breathless. Seeing the woman in her arms so thoroughly pleased is a boon to each step Ofelia takes. Spurred by the gentle crinkle of her glittering eyes, the lyrics carry them away, not breaking for a different partner when the song changes.

And it’s breaking over me,

A thousand miles down to the seabed,

Found the place to rest my head…

Never Let Me Go, Never Let Me Go…

And the arms of the ocean are carrying me,

And all this devotion was rushing out of me,

And the crashes are heaven, for a sinner like me,

But the arms of the ocean,

Delivered me…

Mavka, the amnesiac tiefling Ofelia had met on the beach covered in blood and desperate for help now shines like the stars that hang above them. They catch each other’s eyes, dimples accenting each of her cheeks, and Ofelia’s knees slacken slightly before she hastily pulls them along. Every cell in her body screams for her to cave, to smile back, to speak- but she can’t bring herself to as the song ends and the two of them part. They bow low, so close yet so far away, and when Ofelia rises to her full height she peers down at Mav with as honest a smile as she can muster.

“I’m glad I chose you to dance with,” Mav laughs, soft plinks that bounce off Ofelia’s brain like gold coins.

“Hmm, were you thinking of ditching me for someone else?” Ofelia lifts a brow, smirk on her lips, but Mav mistakes the tease for austerity.

“Oh! I mean… Astarion asked me to meet him by his tent later, but I told him this was more important first!” The sincerity in the set of her pink brow pulls a bubbling laugh up from Ofelia’s throat and she can’t reach out and snatch it back as it pours over the two of them. The widening of Mav’s eyes does Ofelia no favors, and she clutches her abdomen to stave off the pinching in her muscles as she tries to stop it.

“I’m sorry, I’m- ha!” Ofelia giggles, causing a comical twitch to Mav’s lips that has the tiefling restraining her own laughter. “I didn’t mean it! I was just messing around,” She smoothes the front of her dress, inhaling deeply, before leveling a kind gaze at her friend. A touch of jealousy curls in her chest, ugly and black, but she makes sure she gives Mav her best smile.

“Oh. You really have to stop doing that! I can’t tell the difference!” She swats at Ofelia’s arm and the human giggles again, trying to avoid Mav’s half-hearted blows.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ofelia sighs, reaching for her bottle once again. “Go- I’m sure he’s been waiting and you know how he gets when he doesn’t get his way.” Mav’s eyes twinkle softly, almost uncertain for a moment. It plucks at Ofelia’s heartstrings, like a melancholy serenade on her lute, but she waves her hand. “I’ll go bug Shadowheart or something, it’ll be fun! She looks half drunk so I should be able to convince her to dance.”

“If you’re sure…” Mav trails off, and every bone in Ofelia’s body blares like an alarm- no, ask her to stay. You know you want her to stay.

“Certain,” Ofelia nods, ignoring the demands. “If you want to come by later and see if I can trick Shadowheart into kissing Lae’zel, stop by!” Mav nods, swaying on her feet, before turning her toe. It feels like the sting of a blade.

“I’ll see you later!” She declares finally, lightness returning to her voice, and every step she takes away from Ofelia tears little pieces off that trail after her.

Once the tiefling’s no longer looking, she drops the fake smile and heaves a weighty exhale. The bottle in her hands is over half full and Ofelia glares down into the dark red liquid, rancid loathing swirling in the ripples upon its surface. She scowls and lifts it to her lips, letting the cheap booze rush down her throat in greedy gulps. The faster that tingle in her limbs spreads, the better.

***

“Having a good time?” It’s Shadowheart, resting against the rock Ofelia’s still leaning against. It’s been… maybe an hour since Mav left? Maybe less? Ofelia isn’t sure- she’s two bottles deep and working on a third.

“Oh yeah!” She grins toothily, raising her arm as if in a toast, but before the half-elf can lower her chalice Ofelia’s taking another deep gulp.

Go away, go away, go away.

Cruel images, unbidden, drift behind her eyelids. Soft lips, fingers trailing through long locks, heated bodies pressing together. Ofelia pulls the bottle away and sputters a wet cough, appreciating the slaps to her back as Shadowheart sighs.

“You know, getting drunk won’t help with whatever you’re going through,” Their cleric says, hypocritically taking a sip from her beverage.

“What are you doing right now?” Ofelia grunts, resisting the urge to take another drink.

“Exactly what I just warned you not to do,” It’s so matter of fact, concern fighting for attention beneath the murky trance the wine’s locked her in.

“What's your reason for getting wasted?” Ofelia mutters, dropping all pretenses of cheerfulness from her tone as she stares out toward the river. The couple to her right nuzzles their noses and whispers things that make the other giggle- Ofelia sneers.

“I’m afraid it’d take too long to explain- but, let me guess. The vampire stole your prize?” There’s a smile on the half-elf’s lips.

“Ugh, that sounds so gross. Plus, stolen would imply I had anything, to begin with,” Ofelia thumps her head back against the rock.

“Why don’t you just say something?” Shadowheart asks, crossing her arms as she looks up at the moon in disdain.

“Like it’s that easy,”

“It is. Just open your mouth, say the words, then close it. Simple.”

“Ha ha, Shadowheart.”

“I mean it- what are you so afraid of? ‘No’?” Ofelia turns her head to glare at the other woman, fighting the spinning of her vision.

“It’s not just that… it’s just not what you do. Friend code. She’s got so many holes in her memory, so there’s that. Not to mention the falling asleep and murdering people problem… I’m supposed to be there for her. I’m supposed to be comforting… how awful is it to use that to my advantage just because I have feelings I can’t seem to shut up…?” Her voice is thick as she trails off, pain lancing through her body to bring her closer to sobriety.

“Have you ever considered that she may just feel the same?” Shadowheart echoes a sentiment that Ofelia’s often wondered herself, in those small moments where she dares to hope. It’s quickly shot out of the sky each time by reality, however- wings clipped and shoved back in the cage where it belongs. Deep, deep down.

“I doubt it. She’s been with Astarion for how long now? I haven’t even checked… can’t…” Ofelia mumbles- defeated. Shadowheart places a hand over her shoulder and pats, a smirk on her face, and Ofelia frowns. “What?”

“She went to talk to him earlier, he said something to her that made her blush, but then she walked away and hasn’t come back from the woods since. He looked pretty annoyed, too.” The bird rattles the cage door.

“R-really?” Ofelia whispers, risking a bit of her pride in front of Shadowheart. If… if she’s telling the truth… then just maybe…

“Really,” The word is like a prybar, wrenching the lock from the cage door to free the bird trapped beneath Ofelia’s ribs. She straightens her posture, bottle forgotten on the ground beside her.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to go like that,” Shadowheart snickers and Ofelia glowers back.

“What do you mean?” Shadowheart sighs, fussing over Ofelia’s tangled locks before swiping the pad of her thumb across the corner of Ofelia’s lip- likely removing a smudge of her lipstick.

“There- go get ‘em,” Ofelia can’t fight the grin that spreads over her face, slapping her cheeks roughly to dampen her inebriety as she heads off in the direction Shadowheart points toward. The smarmy twist to her face doesn’t drop when Astarion watches her walk past, making sure to toss him a wink for good measure.

“Careful,” He calls over his shoulder and she laughs in reply, giving him a deep sweeping courtesy before proceeding on her merry way.

Every crunch of the underbrush beneath her feet is like a drum roll, doubt reaching in to snuff out the high of optimism that had been blazing so bright before she’d set foot into the tree line. Ofelia nibbles at her lips, trying to alleviate the rolling tides of apprehension that crash within, wondering if she should turn back, until her breath is stolen at the sight before her.

Within a clearing, surrounded by hundreds of flowers, is the woman Ofelia’s come out here to find. The moonlight makes her hair shine like it’s sinking into the very strands it adorns, horns catching a beam or two as she turns her chin to see Ofelia standing there.

They don’t exchange words for a moment, letting the cool breeze drifting through the trees occupy the space between them. From here, Ofelia can see a slight dip between Mav’s brows, lips turned down and features tense. A shiver of uncertainty runs down Ofelia’s spine, but she won’t flee like every instinct is imploring her to do. She stands frozen, waiting as if being considered entry, before the tiefling’s features melt into warmth.

“Ofelia,” She says with a smile, not quite a shout but loud enough to hear from where she stands. Taking that as her cue to proceed, Ofelia crosses the grassy ground, picking up her skirt as she carefully navigates around what could barely be considered a stream. Finally only feet away, she sinks down beside the other woman with a sigh, fidgeting with her hair as she works up the courage to simply start a conversation.

“Why are you out here alone?” She finally asks, unable to stave off the curiosity any longer. There’s an almost somber air around Mav, clinging to her in the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes and the way her shoulders bow inward. It needles Ofelia’s heart with worry, and she begins to wonder if Astarion or someone else said something to her.

“Oh, just thinking.” She says softly, hands pressed into the cool earth below. Ofelia wants to reach out and take one, to impart some warmth into her skin, but she refrains.

“What did Astarion want?” Ofelia tries, as casually as she can, but when Mav’s cheeks darken in reply she’s afraid her worst fears may be coming to pass.

“He… he asked me if I’d like to meet him in the woods, once everyone goes to sleep. For…”

“Oh,” Ofelia says, carefully balancing the word on the tip of her tongue. It’s not as if she’d expected any different… yet it plunges just as deep as if it were a surprise. She swallows hard, forcing her tone to be even. “Are you going to? Meet him?”

She isn’t looking at Mav as she asks, too afraid to garner an answer from the expression on her face before the words leave her mouth. Instead, she watches a pair of fireflies dance on the other side of the clearing, weaving through the air in their tandem performance.

Ofelia braces for the worst when she feels Mav shift, the tiny bird that’d only just escaped now caught within a hawk’s talons.

“I told him I wasn’t sure… that I’d think about it.” Ofelia blinks, knowing that isn’t exactly a no. “What do you think I should do?” It’s an innocent request, but one that damns Ofelia from the start.

Astarion’s intentions are far from pure- that much she knows. While she appreciates his contributions to the group- both helpful and comical- and has on occasion offered her neck for him, she can spot secrets a mile away. She’s been wary of him from the start, knowing there’s got to be more to the pale elf than meets the eye, but she isn’t completely certain… and she won’t rule him guilty without evidence.

On another note, Mav seems to enjoy his company well enough. Ofelia’s been uneasy about the way he’s spoken to her before, but she always keeps her mouth shut- not wanting to diminish Mav’s opinion of him before she’s had a chance to form it. Maybe speaking up in the past wouldn’t leave her in the predicament she faces now- but it’s exactly that. The past. Now she’ll have to deal with the consequences.

“I think… if you really like him, you should go for it.” Her chest twinges at each word as if her body is fighting to keep her from uttering them. But… she can’t. She can’t selfishly protest and fight for something that isn’t hers to begin with.

Mav’s affections are her own, and Ofelia won’t sway them in her favor just because of a crush.

Though perhaps crush is too juvenile a word… no matter. It’ll have to wither and disappear eventually. Names don’t matter to things that are dead.

“Thank you,” Mav whispers, sealing the lid on Ofelia’s coffin. She fights to keep her face warm, though it crumbles when she sees the moisture budding at the corners of Mav’s eyes. “You’re always looking out for me,” She says, reaching for Ofelia’s hand. “You listen to me, you care… Your opinion matters so much to me. But what I can’t understand is why you’re still keeping something from me.”

Ofelia looks away, shame a smear of rust against her cheeks. Stripped bare of her facade, she shivers under Mav’s piercing gaze and tries to hide behind her hair when she looks down into her lap. It’s all for nothing- a front. She’s fresh out of options, stuck in a dead end to which there is only one escape.

Honesty.

Ofelia swallows, gently extracting her hand from Mav’s to nod.

“Tell me, Ofelia. You don’t have to hide anything from me.” The weight of those words settles like an anvil on Ofelia’s chest, drawing her breath out in a long reedy exhale. With it, words come falling out that she’s been holding in for weeks. Ever since they came to full realization, all those nights ago Mav enjoyed that popsicle.

“I don’t want you to see Astarion tonight.” She starts, refusing to look up. “I don’t want you to meet him in the woods. I want you to stay out here with me instead… I want you.”

Everything stops as soon as the last word leaves Ofelia’s lips—the wind, the trees, the animals. Like a forest holding its breath, she sits before the elegant creature that cradles her future in each palm- bliss or despair. Mav has the key, and it only unlocks one door.

“Why didn’t you just say so sooner?” Mavka’s voice is smooth, velvet in Ofelia’s ears, wrapping around her with invisible fingers to lift her chin. Vision blurring, Ofelia tracks over the face she’s imagined so many times that it’s permanently branded behind her eyelids- reveling in its lustrous glow for as long as she’s allowed.

From the rare beauty that blossoms flaming pink in her almond-shaped eyes to the freckles that kiss her refined nose, Ofelia yearns. Her eyes drink in the graceful bow of full lips, a shape designed to ruin with excruciating precision. The veil covering Ofelia’s hidden pining now torn asunder, left naked and exposed, she stares- if this is the last time she’s allowed to look at Mav this way, she’ll make sure to commit every exquisite detail to memory.

“Because you trust me… and I didn’t want to risk what we already have…” Ofelia’s voice falls hushed, fumbling blindly in the dark. Her salvation hangs out of view, elusive and undecided- kept safely within Mav’s unreadable gaze. “I just want you to be happy.”

“What do you think I want?” It’s a demure laugh, breathless and uttered in incredulity. Ofelia mimics it, starting to feel the hawk’s talons lessen their grip, though she doesn’t dare try to wriggle free- feigning death in case this all goes sideways. “I want you to be honest with me... I can’t stand to see you this upset… not you, Ofelia. Not when you’re always happy enough for the both of us.”

Before Ofelia can stop it, the plea tumbles free on either the wine-aided looseness of her tongue or by weeks of hopeless infatuation. Either would fit the bill, though neither would do justice to the pious adoration she feels for the tiefling before her. Such unrestrained desperation, fierce and seeking an end to this rampant hunger. It will no longer abide the prison cell Ofelia’s been holding it within.

“Kiss me.”

The tips of Mav’s pale ears and nose deepen to the shade of crushed berries, glowing beneath a face that tips closer. Ofelia’s body acts of its own volition, reaching and reaching for her like a woman possessed as Mav surrenders to her tender entreaty with a nod.

Allowed to touch at last, Ofelia finds the jaw she’d only dreamt of feeling beneath her fingertips, bringing the two of them closer. It’s a leisurely path, unhurried as Ofelia languishes in the euphoria of promise puckering Mav’s lips. When they finally meet, a strangled sob escapes her mouth, holding tight and scarcely believing all of this to be real. She presses against that petal-soft plushness, once hoping for nothing more and scared it would only ever be less. It’s a bucket of water over ravenous flames, suffocating the disastrous heat into a burn slow and sweet. It creeps over Ofelia’s skin and with careful innocence runs along Mav’s bottom lip under the guise of Ofelia’s tongue, begging for entry.

When Mav yields and melts into Ofelia’s arms, it’s like a tender dream realized. Fingers in pink tresses, chests pressing together, Mav’s hands tentatively hovering over Ofelia’s waist as if waiting for permission. Ofelia’s approval imparted on a quiet moan, she’s almost stunned into stillness by the way Mav circles her waist and pulls her close. A mirror of masked desire, held up between each other, all Ofelia can do is sigh and soothe the ache away against Mav’s lips. Ofelia gleefully shatters the barrier to indulge, taste beyond anything she could have imagined that it demands her tears as collateral.

Like raspberries and wine, fruity and intoxicating, Ofelia’s tongue sweeps into Mav’s mouth and relishes in every soft sound that she makes. She lavishes her in affection so pure it feels like a dream, floating in the spaces between and occupying every sense until there’s nothing left in her mind.

If it lasted a century, it still wouldn’t be enough- Ofelia finding it difficult to stop as she chases Mav’s mouth when the girl pulls away. A soft giggle on the tiefling’s tongue, she doesn’t chide- soothing over Ofelia’s sullen frown like a balm as her clawed fingers cup Ofelia’s cheek.

“I think I’d like to stay here too,” Mav says, hands sliding to rest on Ofelia’s hips. Uncertain where to place her own, she follows Mav’s lead and circles her waist. “It keeps me up at night, the emptiness in my head… I’m always afraid that I’ll lose it again and wake up covered in blood. I can’t even trust myself… but you do. You make me feel safe… I don’t feel that way with anyone else.”

Ofelia sniffles around a smile, rubbing circles into Mav’s dress as she listens to her lament on plaguing worries festering and adamant in her mind. Ofelia wants so badly to quiet Mav’s fears, to lessen her burden, and she’ll do anything to make that want a reality- first, she’ll start with this. She’ll start with her affection, waiting on the tip of her tongue.

“You’re strong, you’re brave- more than you know,” Ofelia murmurs, one hand trailing the length of Mav’s body to rest gently over her cheek. “I didn’t know anything before coming here… I was so alone, so afraid… but we found each other. It’s like we were meant to meet… so that neither one of us would have to face it all by ourselves.” With that, Ofelia plucks the violets and clover from the ground before reaching up to tuck them into Mav’s hair like a crown around her horns. They compliment her perfectly beneath the starlight, and with a soft laugh Mav leans forward and places a kiss on Ofelia’s cheek, a tingle of electricity left in her wake.

“Well… I’m sure we can imagine what Astarion had planned.” Ofelia huffs, smug grin spreading over her mouth. Mav giggles, the two of them still tucked in each other’s arms.

“He did spell it out for me, in case I didn’t understand.” The two of them roll their eyes in unison. “What are you offering me instead?” There’s a bashful challenge to her tone, one that trembles with promise, and Ofelia leans in close until their foreheads are touching.

They peer at each other, freed from their previous limitations to finally explore everything they have to offer. Their arms become a sanctuary, a haven from the horrors all this world means to bestow upon them. As long as they’re together, they can face anything- an entire future threading and weaving between them into one solid path. One that, unbeknownst to them, leads through the years of their lives until the very end- fingers still tangled together as they breathe their last.

“Anything, Mavka. I’ll give you anything,”

Fin

43 notes · View notes

cryptcutiee · 2 years ago

Text

Karma Is My Boyfriend

Pairing: Leon Kennedy X Reader (gender neutral) Synopsis: In search of good karma, you do a random act of kindness by paying for the coffee of whoever comes in behind you. That person ends up being a rather attractive man. Tags: Fluff, Comfort Warnings: Use of pet names (sweetheart, sweet thing), age gap (if you squint) Song: Karma - Taylor Swift Word Count: 1.6K Author's Notes: Ahhh hello Tumblr! I haven't posted any writing in a very long time. This is my very first fic on this account, but I do have more in the works. So if you want to see more from me or a part 2 to this, lmk! This is my first x reader story in years so comments and feedback is appreciated!

The day had barely started, yet everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Alarms you set decided not to go off. You had burned your breakfast. The hot water in your shower lasted a total of two minutes before it plunged you into an ice-cold drizzle. Clothes you wanted to put on had mysteriously vanished into thin air. You had dressed in attire you didn't want to wear when it started to rain as you were leaving. It was a bunch of little things adding up to a horrible morning. That didn't bode well for your luck today, which made you worry. Today was significant. You were waiting to hear back from that apartment complex. You needed to get approved for it. The current studio you were living in was crap, and this place would be a major upgrade. With how your day was going, your hope was at an all-time low.

This is how you found yourself standing across the counter from your best friend at the local coffee shop. They were a barista here, and although gossiping on work hours should be frowned upon, they always had time for you. Besides, it seemed slow today. Nobody was in line, and the few patrons lingering around were sitting at tables chatting or working. So you vented about your entire morning as your friend took down your coffee order. You got your usual which was no surprise. With the way your day was going, why would you try something new?

Your friend's eyebrows quirked up at how much of a nightmare your morning had been. "Sounds like you're having a bad energy day."

You leaned against the counter with a deadpan expression. "No shit Sherlock. Normally I wouldn't care, but I can't afford for today to be a bad day! At this rate, I'm going to get denied." You groaned. Anxiety was eating at you, and with how everything had been going, you had little faith in good news.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Your best friend pulled your attention back, "Thinking like that will just make it worse. What if you put some good energy out there, you know, like karma or something?"

You blinked as you took in their words. Karma? You understood the concept of it. Doing bad would attract bad, and doing good would attract good. A sigh left your lips as you stared across the checkout at your friend. "How do you suggest I go about that?" You're sliding your debit card across the counter as you stare them down, waiting for whatever idea they have.

Your friend put on their thinking face, and within moments their expression lit up with an idea. "What about a random act of kindness? You could pay for whoever comes in next!"

The idea rattled around in your brain for a moment. It wasn't like you believed in supernatural forces, but what exactly did you have to lose? "Fine, charge the next person's order to my card. Please don't make a big deal out of it though! I'm not doing it for recognition."

"You got it! Now go wait over by the pickup end. I'll get your order out."

With a nod to your friend, you moved over to the pickup area. Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously. Eyes darting down to your phone as you waited for that email from the apartment complex. You could hear the bell on the door as you scrolled through your notifications. You listened to your friend speaking to what sounded like a man, but you kept your eyes stuck to your screen. He ordered a black coffee, and then your best friend said the words that made you focus more on the conversion feet away from you.

"I'm happy to say your order today has already been covered!"

When you looked up to see who you had paid for, you may have encountered one of the most attractive men you have ever seen. He had to be older than you, but he looked like he took care of himself. His shirt clung to his fit form, and those arms looked like they could pop a seam on his sleeves. Maybe karma did exist because the universe had just dropped this gorgeous sight right into your lap.

"Oh?" The man's low timber caused something to crawl down your spine. "By who?"

You could see the gears turning in your best friend's brain on how to answer the question. They knew what you asked for but could also witness your reactions from the sidelines. "By the person who ordered before you."

The man quickly put the pieces together, and his eyes glanced at you, the only person waiting for their order.

Mentally you were screaming and cursing at your friend for putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were thanking them. As if to send the message home, they called out your name and slid your coffee order to you. Your eyes met his, and you felt your stomach do a flip. His eyes were breathtaking. If you looked too long, you thought you'd drown in them. With all the courage in your bones, you mustered an awkward smile. Hand reaching over to grab your coffee, you noticed out of the corner of your eye as the man moved toward you.

"Hey." A slight smile touched his lips as he approached, "Were you the one that paid for my coffee?" He knew it was you, and there was no point in lying to this stunning man.

"Yeah, I did. Don't worry. It was nothing." You replied, trying to shrug it off. "I just wanted to pay it forward. Trying to get some good luck." That same embarrassed smile glued to your face. Talking to this man wasn't in your cards today, but it was going better than everything else this morning.

"I can't just let you do that without introducing myself. I'm Leon, Leon Kennedy." Leon extended his hand out. Your own wrapped around his for a handshake while introducing yourself. "Why are you looking for good luck? Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Your free hand shot up in denial. "Oh no, nothings wrong! I'm waiting for an important email. It's to see if I got approved for this apartment I applied for." There was no reason for you to be telling Leon all of this. He was a stranger, but he was easy to open up to. "My morning was a disaster, and I didn't want the bad luck to continue, so my friend suggested I do something for good karma." You gestured to the barista in the background, your best friend. "Sorry, that all sounds a little silly."

"Not at all." The corner of Leon's lips lifts into a smirk." It's cute, honestly." Those blue eyes of his glimmered with interest as he spoke. It caused butterflies to flutter in your tummy. Suddenly your nerves aren't about the email. They're more about the man in front of you. "Do you have any plans today? I hope I'm not holding you up."

As fast as you can, you shake your head in response. "You aren't! I don't have anything to do today except wait." You watch as your friend delivers the black coffee Leon ordered. Their eyes glance at you with a knowing look. When Leon turns his back to them, they give you a thumbs up before scurrying back to the checkout.

"Then you'll let me repay you by grabbing dinner with me?" Leon grabbed his coffee, a sure look in his eyes. "It's the least I can do for a sweet thing like you, besides it'll get your mind off that email."

Did you just get asked out by some guy you bought coffee for? He was undoubtedly good-looking and had effortless charisma. Saying no would be a mistake. "Sure!" You automatically flush at how enthusiastic you sound. "I mean, that sounds like a nice distraction."

Leon let out a faint chuckle. "I usually get turned down. Maybe I have all the good karma today." Your eyes meet as he takes a sip of his coffee. "You like Italian? I know a good place, my treat."

"I do." Your lips curl into a soft smile. "Do you want to exchange numbers? Here." You open a fresh contact page on your phone and hold the device towards him. Your fingers brush against his as you pass your phone over to Leon. It causes a light blush to paint your features, and you can only hope he doesn't notice. As he's putting his number in, the faint chime of your notification tone rings out.

Leon's eyes dart to the pop-up, and he grins. "Looks like I'm your good luck charm." He comments, passing the phone back to you.

Your eyes automatically search the screen and see an email notification. The apartment complex approved you. A wide smile breaks out on your face. "I guess you are, Leon. Maybe I should keep you around." You can feel his blue eyes on you as you say that.

"Maybe you should." There's a beat of silence between the two of you. It suddenly feels like you got trapped in some romance novel. "So, celebration dinner then? Send me your address, and I'll pick you up at seven." Leon breaks the silence with that intoxicating tone of his.

"That works for me! I'll text you."

Exiting the coffee shop, you feel much better than when you arrived. Your newest contact, Leon, is on the screen, and you can't get that smile off your face.

Karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me.

#.˚ ༘ cryptcreeps #cryptcutieewrites #cryptcutieeposts #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil #✎ hastaluego

418 notes · View notes

oneday73333 · 1 month ago

Text

Hey yall ik its been a bit since I've updated I still love Top Gun however I have now taken a like to Arcane so this is a Lightcannon fic!

The Apple Juice Theif

TW:drugs kinda

"Jinx Where are you going?" her sister yells as Jinx scurries out the door. Leaving quickly…

"Out to dinner I'll be back," she screams.

Vi shouts something else but Jinx doesn’t care.

Apple juice, here I come, she thinks.

Vi told her about her girlfriend's yoga place but Jinx had forgotten where in piltover it was.

Oh Welllll, she thinks, Time to explore I guess, all I know is that I'm getting more juice tonight.

Walking down the street she sees a person glowing in a window. With the lights off.

Weird. She looks at the sign on the door that reads CL Yoga Inc. This is the place.

She tries the door but it's locked. However she finds a way in through an open window. She looks around for a fridge. And finds it. Across the room from this crazy ass light demon who is singing pop music to herself.

Great.

Just great.

She thinks.

Jinx makes it across the room without the girl noticing her, and gets to the jackpot. A fridge full of water bottles and apple juice?

One by one, as she quickly takes bottles of apple juice from the fridge, Jinx stares at the pretty girl having a concert with herself in the yoga studio glowing. Literally.

Shit

Jinx thinks to herself. She sees the girl running over.

Just as Jinx scurries to the door, she gets pounced on. Her, and the once cradled bottles scatter to the floor. The blondie who pounced on her now standing on her chest. She throws a glass bottle at Jinx who shortly gets back on her feet. Attempting to grab the beloved bottles. She feels restraint, and turns.

This bitch

She thinks.

“WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!” the mystery girl slams her against the glass door.

“Man, chill. I just want juice, it's not that deep.” Jinx tries to break free.

“What?” Blondie's voice lowers and her muscles relax. She looks at Jinx like she has five heads.

“LeT mE take the bottles and I'll leave you alone. Light bulb.” The girl returns to squishing Jinx, as if she was a moth, against the door.

“That insult stopped working years ago, and those juices are only for my students.”

Jinx rolls her eyes and the girl steps away. While walking to the light switch the girl says.

“Well then if you want apple juice you have to take a class and show me some yoga.” She turns Around and winks.

Jinx is now getting a full view of the pretty girl in front of her. Thinking…

I'd be down for a bit of yoga with her.

“If you insist.” Jinx rolls her eyes.

“Kay blueberry show me what you got.” They walk to the middle of the wood floor.

“That insult stopped working years ago.” She scoffs.

“I'm Luxanna but please, call me Lux” The blondie shares a charming smile.

“Jinx”

“Ahhh so you are the one my roommate hates.” Lux recalls.

“Damn no need to get personal I just want some juice.” She holds her hands in surrender.

“Oh my god I have a great idea. Go to the grocery store down the street.” Lux Scolds.

“That's not as fun as stealing some from the cute girl down the street.” Jinx pouts.

The blondie feels blush crawling across her cheeks. She then asks Jinx to show her a downward facing dog pose. After acing that they moved onto warrior one and two. One by one Luxanna led Jinx through different poses. Trying not to giggle as the blue haired girl bitches and moans.

It's about ten of ten when Lux Decides to let Jinx go through her last pose.

“ May I correct your form?” Lux smiles.

“ Sure thing Light Bulb ” Jinx winks, and Lux straightens the bottom leg in her scorpion giggling.

“You’re free, Jinx. Take your juice and go home.” She smiles, and within minutes the bottles return to Jinx's hands and she's on her way home.

_________________

Jinx returned to her and Vi's house helping herself to the brand name apple juice earned from Lux. She gets stopped in her tracks…

“Where have you been?” Vi stops her, capturing her braid.

“That fancy yogurt studio your girlfriend owns.” She avoids eye contact admiring her bottle. “Hell, you didn't tell me her roommate was rich and sexy.” She plops on her sister's bed.

“ It's yoga, also Lux? And why were you going there for di-…You raided the fridge.” Vi shakes her head.

“Have an Apple Juice before it's gone.” Jinx winks.

“Get out.” Vi points to the door.

“Sir yes sir.” Jinx salutes.

___________________

Jinx couldn't sleep that night. Thinking about Lux.

Her gold hair, blue eyes, thick thighs, and a voice which speaks a calm melody.

But more importantly

How did she do that thing with her body where she made herself glow and it radiated onto the whole room.

I'll never know unless…

_________________

“ Lux, have you seen my eyeliner!?!?” Caitlyn panics.

“No but you can use mine.” Lux smiles.

“ Thank You.” Cait says.

The girls were getting ready for the Demacian Ball at the studio utilizing the wall of mirrors around them. Lux was nervous because she hasn't seen her family since she moved out so she decided to take Caitlyn as her plus one for moral support.

The door opens, the girls look over,instantly Caitlyn disappears to the bathroom.

“ Hey Jinx, what brings you here? We don't have classes on Sundays you know.” Lux giggles. The sun beaming through the windows illuminates her features in addition to the smoky grey ball gown with chrome accents.

“ Date me.”

“What?”

“What”

Shit.

Both girls blush. Jinx wants to crawl in a hole and die but she commits.

“Lux I wanna take you on a date uhhhhhh please?” She flashes the blondie puppy dog eyes.

“ That sounds amazing.” She Looks down.

The girls share their telephone info and they decide on a date for their date; next saturday evening.

“ Why you and Caitlyn dressed so fancy?” Jinx cocks her head.

“ Demacian Ball tonight!” Lux smiles. Jinx looks through the glass easily.

“ Nervous?”

“Uh yeah.” Lux looks at her in confusion. How could she tell?

“ Well I don't know why because your amazing. Have fun today.” Jinx smiles wich turns into a smirk as she walks towards the bathroom. “ Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Caitlynnnnnn you can come out of hidinggggg.”

Lux looks at her confused but she's captivated by Jinx's actions. Blue haired Vixen struts towards the yoga studio door.

“ Bye Jinx.” Blondie grins ear to ear.

“ Talk to ya toots.” Jinx blows a kiss and leaves. Cait reappears.

“ She did not just ask you out” Cait growls.

“SHE DIDDDDD.” Lux jumps; glows.

“ Say no!” Cait snaps Lux out of her trance.

“ What's wrong?” She shoots Cait a look.

“ Your reputation in your family is bad enough for leaving, I wonder what they will think when they hear you're dating piltover's most wanted criminal.” Cait steps towards her friend.

Lux's jaw drops she gasps.

_____________

Music blasts. Vi doesn't even try to say Jinx's name as she walks over to the speaker and unplugs it.

“ What the fuck!”

“ I could ask the same thing to you. What's with the clothes everywhere?” She scoffs.

“ I have a date and I need something to wear now shoo.”

Vi did anything but that.

“ With who?” Vi starts Looking through the tiny pile of clothes.

“Luxanna Crownguard.” Jinx finally finds her favorite jorts with the heart shaped rips.

Vi's jaw drops “Lux? Like the blonde star guardian? Caits roommate?”

“ YuP!”

“ Awwwww have fun!” Vi coos.

Shortly Jinx kicks her sister out so she can change. She slides into the shorts and then replaces her well worn tank top with a clay color one sleeve blouse, then goes to the mirror.

3 miles away another girl looks in the mirror.

“ What should I do with my hair?” Lux says re-brushing her locks out in the bathroom in her and Caitlyn's apartment her friend sits on the bed in the other room.

“ How about a half up twist?” Caitlyn shouts.

“Thanks!” The blondie blushes just thinking about her night that awaits. Where Is she taking me? Lux thought.

The hair was done.

“ When's she coming?” Cait asks Lux as she walks out of the room.

“ Any Minute now she said 5:30.”

“ Hey, I wanna let you know. I'm happy That you're going on this date. I don't like Jinx but I haven't seen you this happy since the yoga studio opened and that makes me happier than you know.”

The door pounds before Lux can answer her best friend. The door opens.

“ Hi.” Lux blushes.

“ Good afternoon! COME ON!” Jinx pulls Lux through the door but is Shortly stopped by Cait.

“ Wait!” the girls turn around. “ Have her back by 10 no later. Lux I need to know where you are going at all times. Jinx… you break her heart I will find some damn way to break you.” Cait barks.

“ We are going to the book store you can calm down now richy rich.” Lux and Jinx finally leave.

“ THE BOOK STORE! WHERE? WHICH ONE?” Lux is buzzing, lighting up with joy.

“The two in Piltover and the one in Zaun. If it's okay with you maybe we could get some pacos or regular tacos. I know a guy who sells them!”

“What are pacos?” Lux says,looking puzzled.

“ pot plus taco equals paco.” Jinx confidently struts praying she doesn't scare the goddess right next to her.

“ definitely a regular one!” Lux smiles.

“ I wanna hold your hand.” Jinx looks at Lux.

“ You don't need to ask silly” Lux giggles, an invitation for Jinx to incases her hand in Lux's envelope.

And they walk off into the night with thoughts of books, pacos, and a new light.

-One_day

#arcane #lol #sapphic love #wlw #friends #jinx league of legends #lightcannon #luxanna crownguard #Lux #jinx #jinx x lux #apple juice #theif #caitvi #vi arcane #caitlyn arcane #fashion #yoga

31 notes · View notes

rainforestakiie · 5 months ago

Text

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Rainy Day~

so happy i got it done! though, i could write so much more! ahhh! i hope you all like it! i love writing naive adam so damn much! haha!

@adamsappleweek

The dark skies above Scotland roared with fury, the heavens split open by a jagged bolt of lightning that illuminated the storm-lashed landscape in a brief, blinding flash. The wind howled like a vengeful spirit, shaking the bones of the ancient tavern that sat at the edge of the moor, its stone walls bracing against the tempest. Rain poured in torrents, a relentless assault from the skies, each drop heavy and biting as it crashed against the ground. Adam cursed under his breath, his heart pounding as he gripped the iron handles of the cages meant to shield his windows. The last storm had nearly destroyed everything he held dear—he wouldn’t let it happen again.

His thick, wild hair, a mix of chestnut and auburn, clung to his forehead, dripping water as he battled the elements. His clothes were soaked through, plastered to his lean frame as he rushed from window to window, dragging the iron bars into place. Every step he took sent a splash of cold water up his legs, his boots crashing into puddles that had formed in the uneven cobblestone yard. The storm was merciless, but Adam was relentless. This tavern, with its creaking beams and timeworn stones, was his lifeblood. His sanctuary. He would die before letting it fall apart.

By the time he stumbled back inside, the warmth of the fire barely reached him. He was drenched to the bone, his skin cold and tinged with pink from the biting wind. His usually sharp green eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, his breath ragged as he leaned against one of the sturdy wooden posts that held up the low ceiling. "Fuck me," he muttered under his breath, shivering slightly as he wiped rain from his brow, his gaze drifting upwards to the rafters above.

The tavern itself was a place out of legend, steeped in an almost magical atmosphere that seemed to hum in the very air. Its walls were old, ancient even, made from rough-hewn stone that had stood the test of time. The timber beams that crossed the ceiling were dark with age, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of hands and storms, but they held fast, like the bones of a sleeping giant. Each plank of the floor groaned softly underfoot, as though the tavern itself was alive, whispering secrets from ages past.

Golden candlelight flickered from iron sconces along the walls, casting long shadows that danced across the room. The hearth at the far end blazed with a crackling fire, the flames licking at the soot-stained stone like a beast hungry for warmth. Above it, an old mantle stretched wide, adorned with curios from distant lands—a horned skull, a collection of tarnished coins, and an old brass compass that, rumour had it, never pointed true north. The smell of wood smoke and spiced mead lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy scent of rain that had followed Adam inside.

But there was something more here—something beyond the rustic charm of an old inn. The air seemed to shimmer, as if the very walls held memories, or magic, just out of reach. Strange symbols had been etched into the corners of the room, half-hidden beneath layers of dust and grime, relics of forgotten times. Adam had always suspected there was more to this place than met the eye, but he had never been one to dig too deeply into its mysteries. He simply let the tavern be, for whatever it was, it had become part of him.

As he scanned the room, a strange tension clung to him. The storm outside was fierce, yes, but there was something else—a quiet, unsettling hum that buzzed beneath the noise of the wind and rain. His eyes drifted toward the shadowy corners of the tavern, where the light didn't quite reach. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw something—a flicker of movement, a whisper of darkness shifting between the beams. He blinked, shook his head. It was just the storm, playing tricks on his mind.

Adam ran a hand through his soaked hair, ruffling it absently, ignoring the cascade of rainwater dripping from his tangled locks. The storm outside raged on, the sound of it relentless, but Adam moved through his tavern with a practiced calm, checking every important corner, every latch, every candle wick. He wasn’t about to leave anything to chance, not with a storm like this. He had heard enough tales from travellers and locals alike—the one about the tavern lost to a stray candle fire stuck with him most. He’d built this place from the ground up, poured his soul into every beam and stone. He would die before letting it burn to the ground.

He barely had time to yank off his soaked wellingtons, his muscles aching from the night's frantic efforts, when a thunderous knocking rattled the door. Adam froze, his brow furrowing as he glanced up at the old grandfather clock in the corner, its hands inching toward midnight. Who in their right mind would be out in a storm like this? Another booming knock echoed through the room, more urgent this time. Adam groaned, kicking his boots aside, the chill of the wet floor seeping into his feet as he trudged toward the door.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” he shouted over the din, his voice nearly drowned out by another crack of lightning.

The storm roared, shaking the tavern to its very foundations, the windows rattling as wind and rain lashed against them. A brilliant flash lit up the room, so bright that Adam had to squint against it as he reached for the heavy wooden door. He braced himself, grabbing the iron handle with both hands, and pulled hard, fighting against the ferocious wind.

As the door creaked open, Adam peered through the driving rain—and his breath caught in his throat. Standing there, drenched and trembling, was a small figure. His heart skipped a beat as a pair of eyes, glowing gold and crimson, stared back at him through the chaos of the storm. Unnatural, but enchanting.

“Contacts?” Adam muttered under his breath, blinking in disbelief.

“Holy shit,” he gasped aloud, dragging the door open wider. “Holy shit, are you alright? Get in here, out of the rain!”

The figure didn’t move, just stood there, soaking wet, pale as a ghost. His skin was almost ghastly in the dim light, the blonde hair plastered to his forehead dripping endlessly. His eyes—those unnaturally large, glowing eyes—were rimmed with a dark purple that looked too precise to be natural. And yet... there was something about him that sent a chill down Adam’s spine. The man wore a red cotton sweater, drenched and clinging to his thin frame, a black collared shirt beneath it, and white trousers now soaked through. Strangely, he had no shoes or socks—bare feet slick with rain and mud.

“Come inside!” Adam urged, his concern deepening.

The man didn’t respond. His blank, vacant expression didn’t shift; no sign of acknowledgment, no flicker of emotion. Adam’s stomach twisted with unease, and he bit his lip, stepping forward to reach out. His hand grasped the stranger’s ice-cold fingers, and the contact sent a jolt of worry through him.

“You’re freezing,” Adam whispered, more to himself. He wrapped his hands around the man’s slender shoulders, steering him into the warmth of the tavern. “You’re soaked to the bone. Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

Still, no response. The man’s silence was eerie, unsettling. Adam’s heart began to pound harder in his chest, and for the first time, a creeping sense of dread settled in. Was this man in danger? Had something terrible happened to him? A thousand thoughts raced through Adam’s mind, each one darker than the last. He glanced back out the door, squinting into the blackness of the storm, but saw nothing unusual—just the relentless downpour and howling wind. Still, the nagging sense that something wasn’t right wouldn’t leave him.

With a deep sigh, Adam shut the door firmly behind him, cutting off the wind and rain. The tavern seemed eerily quiet now, save for the crackle of the fire and the faint, rhythmic drip of water from the man’s sodden clothes.

“Do you want me to call someone?” Adam asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I could call the police—maybe they could help.”

That seemed to break the spell. Suddenly, the man’s hand shot out, gripping Adam’s wrist with surprising strength. Adam’s heart stuttered as their eyes locked. The stranger’s gaze, once vacant, was now sharp—intense. His lips parted, and when he spoke, his voice was firm, urgent.

“No. No police.”

The words cut through the air like a blade. His fingers tightened around Adam’s wrist, and Adam winced slightly, the stranger’s skin still deathly cold.

“Just... please,” the man continued, his voice lowering to a desperate whisper. “Let me stay. I have no money, but I can work. I can—”

“Shh,” Adam interrupted gently, a kind smile tugging at his lips despite the growing tension in his chest. “You don’t have to do anything. You can stay.”

The man blinked, his eyes widening in disbelief. For the first time since he had appeared at the door, a flicker of emotion crossed his face—relief. His shoulders sagged, and he nodded, the movement slow and almost mechanical.

“That’s kind of you,” the man murmured, his voice softening.

Adam smiled, but his mind was still racing. Something about this man—about this whole encounter—felt off. The air in the tavern seemed to thrum with an unseen energy, a tension that hadn’t been there before. Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that this stranger was more than he appeared to be, that something deeper—darker—lurked beneath the surface.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” Adam said, guiding the man toward the hearth, where the fire blazed with a comforting heat. He grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and wrapped it around the man’s shivering form, the flames casting long shadows across the room. “You’ll catch your death otherwise.”

The man remained silent, staring into the fire as if mesmerized by the dancing flames. His golden-red eyes glowed faintly in the flickering light, and for a moment, Adam felt a strange pull—an almost magnetic attraction that he couldn’t quite explain.

Who was this man?

And why did Adam feel as if letting him in had changed everything?

Adam grabbed a large, fluffy towel from a nearby shelf and tossed it over the blonde man's frail shoulders, the fabric engulfing his small frame. With slow, careful movements, Adam began rubbing the towel into the man’s tangled golden hair, his brow furrowed in concentration. The strands were silky, but drenched with the storm’s wrath, and Adam’s lips twisted in a crooked half-smile as he focused on drying him off. The man needed warmth, badly—a hot bath, Adam thought, might be the only thing to stave off the chill that had settled deep into his bones. His concern deepened as he wondered just how long this stranger had been out in the storm.

A soft sound, barely more than a sigh, escaped from the man’s lips. It was so faint that Adam paused, his hand stilling mid-motion. He tilted his head, his eyes meeting the stranger's gaze. The man’s golden-red eyes, glowing faintly in the firelight, were fixed on him, unblinking and strangely intense. There was something haunting about them—something that sent a shiver racing down Adam's spine, though not from the cold.

“What’s your name?” Adam asked gently, trying to coax more from the enigmatic stranger.

He smiled softly, his voice warm, hoping to make a connection, anything to draw him out of whatever trance-like state he seemed to be in.

The man’s gaze lingered on Adam for a long moment, as if he was weighing his response. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost a whisper, as though it took effort to form the words.

“Lucifer.”

Adam blinked; his hand momentarily frozen against the man’s hair. The name hung in the air between them, sharp and unsettling. He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him, a nervous reflex to the oddity of it.

“Like the devil?” he asked, the smile still on his lips though his eyes searched the man's face for some hint of humour.

Lucifer merely nodded, his expression unchanged, his eyes half-lidded and distant now, as if the weight of the storm had finally pulled him under. He sank deeper into the plush chair by the fire, his body still unnaturally rigid legs together, shoulders stiff, hands resting limply over his knees. He made no move to help as Adam continued to rub the towel over his damp skin, his posture more akin to a statue than a living, breathing person.

Adam's smile faded, concern knitting his brow again. He leaned down slightly, still gently dabbing at the man’s face, which was far too pale and cold to the touch.

“Are you feeling alright?” Adam asked, his tone softer now, as if he were speaking to someone fragile. “You don’t feel sick, do you?”

Lucifer’s head lolled slightly, and his eyes flickered closed for a moment before reopening with an eerie slowness. He gazed into the fire, as if it held answers to some unspoken question, his golden-red eyes catching the light in an unsettling way. The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, before Lucifer’s lips parted ever so slightly.

“I’ve been... far from here. For a very long time.”

Adam’s heart quickened at the cryptic answer. There was something in the man’s voice—an ancient weariness, as though he carried centuries of suffering with him. It didn’t sound like the words of a lost traveller or someone caught in a storm. It felt... deeper, darker. As though the weight of his name carried something far more dangerous than mere myth.

Far from here? Adam wanted to ask more, to press the man to explain, but something about Lucifer’s presence—the way the air seemed to thrum and shift around him—kept Adam cautious. Instead, he swallowed his questions and placed a comforting hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, hoping to ground him in this moment.

“Well, you’re here now,” Adam said, his voice steady though his heart still raced. “You’re safe.”

Lucifer’s eyes flicked up to meet Adam’s, and for a brief moment, the coldness in them thawed. It was fleeting, but Adam saw it—a spark of something vulnerable, something almost human, hidden behind the intensity of his gaze. The fire crackled beside them, the warmth spreading through the room, but it did little to ease the strange tension coiling in the air.

“Thank you,” Lucifer whispered, his voice barely audible over the popping of the firewood. But there was something in those two words that felt more than just gratitude. It felt like a confession. Or maybe... a warning.

Adam’s hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment longer before he stood up, the weight of the night pressing heavily on him. He tossed the damp towel aside and moved to stoke the fire, trying to keep the room warm, trying to shake off the gnawing sense of unease that clung to him. The storm outside had only grown fiercer, the wind howling through the cracks in the old wooden beams, as if it were trying to force its way inside.

Lucifer remained silent, his gaze returning to the flames. The storm outside seemed almost insignificant compared to the storm that raged behind those strange eyes. Adam had a feeling that the man—if he could even call him that—was running from something far more terrifying than wind or rain. Something unseen, but not unfelt.

“Maybe a bath,” Adam murmured, more to himself than to Lucifer, trying to focus on something practical. “That’ll warm you up.”

Lucifer’s lips twitched, as though he wanted to respond but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he simply nodded, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each one took great effort. Adam hesitated for a moment, studying him. There was still so much mystery wrapped around this man, so many questions gnawing at the back of Adam’s mind, but now wasn’t the time.

“Stay here by the fire,” Adam said, his voice soft as he moved toward the stairs leading to the upper floor. “I’ll run a bath. You’ll feel better soon.”

But as he turned to leave, a quiet voice stopped him in his tracks.

“It’s not the cold I’m worried about,” Lucifer murmured, his voice low and distant, his eyes never leaving the fire.

Adam’s pulse quickened. He looked back over his shoulder, unsure if he had truly heard the words or if they were part of the growing storm outside.

But Lucifer didn’t say another word.

Adam cast one last glance at Lucifer before reluctantly turning away, leaving the odd, ethereal man huddled by the fire. There was something heartbreakingly fragile about him, something that tugged at Adam’s protective instincts. Lucifer looked so small, so lost—his pale skin and the haunted look in his golden-red eyes only deepened the impression that he had been through something terrible. It made Adam want to wrap him up in warmth, shield him from whatever horrors he had faced, and—though he would never admit it aloud—cradle him in his arms. The urge to comfort this mysterious stranger was almost overwhelming.

As he moved down the hallway toward the guest bathroom, Adam couldn’t shake the image of Lucifer’s sorrowful expression. He seemed like someone who had never known kindness, someone who had forgotten what it felt like to be cared for. Adam sighed softly, pushing open the bathroom door and turning his attention to preparing the bath.

The water ran hot and steamy, curling into the air like mist. Adam tested the temperature, nodding in satisfaction when it was just right—perfect for warming a cold, fragile soul. As the tub filled, the steam swirled around him, thickening the air with a soothing warmth that contrasted the raging storm outside. He lingered for a moment, making sure everything was ready, before turning to leave, intending to fetch Lucifer and lead him to the bath.

But as he spun on his heel, Adam yelped in surprise, stumbling back a step. Lucifer stood in the doorway, his slight frame wrapped in the oversized towel, watching him with wide eyes. It was the first time since their encounter that Lucifer had shown any emotion—surprise, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through his strange, calm facade.

"I'm... sorry," Lucifer said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His red and gold eyes shimmered in the warm light of the bathroom, filled with something almost tender. "I didn’t mean to scare you."

Adam’s sheepish laughter echoed in the small space, his heart still racing from the unexpected startle.

“No, it’s fine,” he assured him, waving it off. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the bath, trying to regain his composure. “The bath’s ready. I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”

Lucifer’s gaze shifted from Adam to the tub, and he nodded slowly, stepping closer. The steam from the bath curled around him as he approached, making the room feel even more intimate, the warmth and tension almost palpable in the air. Adam busied himself by opening a nearby cupboard, revealing the selection of bath products he kept for his guests—soaps, shampoos, lotions, all in neat rows.

“You can use whatever you like. I don’t mind,” Adam said, still a little nervous under Lucifer’s intense gaze. His fingers fumbled slightly as he gestured toward the products. “Just... make yourself comfortable.”

But when he turned back around, Adam’s words died in his throat. His eyes went wide as he caught sight of Lucifer pulling his soaked sweater over his head, beginning to undress right there in front of him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, and his cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

“Oh—uh—um!” he stammered, immediately covering his eyes with one hand and turning away in a rush, his voice pitching higher than usual. “I-I’ll just—um—be outside! If you need anything, just, uh... let me know!”

He could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck as he stumbled toward the door, desperately trying to avoid another glance at Lucifer’s bare skin. His mind was spinning, a mess of embarrassment and something else—something more complicated that he didn’t want to think too hard about.

Behind him, he heard a soft chuckle.

“Thank you,” Lucifer murmured, his voice gentle, almost teasing. Adam’s ears burned at the sound, and he fumbled with the door handle in his haste to escape the room.

“I’ll, uh, go prepare your bedroom!” Adam blurted, finally getting the door open. “And, uh... maybe figure out some food for you... yeah, okay, bye!”

As he stumbled out of the bathroom, Adam could still feel Lucifer’s curious gaze on him. His heart raced in his chest as he leaned against the closed door for a moment, letting out a long, shaky breath. What was it about this man that had him so flustered? There was something magnetic, almost otherworldly, about him—something that made Adam’s thoughts spiral in ways they never had before.

Shaking his head, Adam pushed away from the door and made his way down the hallway to prepare a room for Lucifer. His mind raced, still trying to process the strange emotions that the man stirred within him. This night had already taken on an unusual, almost magical quality—like he was caught in some ancient, otherworldly tale where nothing was as it seemed. And at the heart of it all was Lucifer, with his haunting beauty and eerie calm, a storm of secrets hidden behind those otherworldly eyes.

As Adam began making the bed, fluffing the pillows and setting out fresh linens, he couldn’t stop thinking about him—about the weight of his name, the sadness that clung to him like a shadow, and the strange connection that seemed to have formed between them in such a short time. There was something more to Lucifer than just a man caught in a storm. Something deep and dark, yet irresistibly alluring.

And Adam couldn’t help but wonder what kind of danger—or magic—he had unknowingly invited into his tavern.

Adam straightened himself up, his back giving a satisfying crack as he stretched, and he couldn’t help but grin at the bed he had just prepared. It looked cozy and inviting—perfect for someone as small and delicate as Lucifer. He felt a strange surge of protectiveness, wanting to make sure every little detail was right for the fragile man. But when Adam turned around to check on Lucifer, he was met with a shock.

“Lucifer!” Adam yelped, startled for the second time that evening. The man stood directly behind him, his pale, slim frame dripping from the bath, water pooling at his feet. He was wrapped in a massive, fluffy white towel that swallowed his small figure, but his skin was still glistening with droplets, and his hair clung wetly to his face.

Adam’s heart raced, his breath catching in his throat. His face flushed a deep shade of crimson, and he quickly averted his eyes. “Why are you walking around like this? You’re going to get even sicker!”

Lucifer blinked slowly, tilting his head as if confused by Adam’s reaction. His strange, golden-red eyes locked onto Adam’s with an almost childlike innocence.

“I have no clothes,” he said matter-of-factly, his voice quiet and unbothered. “The ones I was wearing are just as wet.”

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it again, cursing himself for not realizing sooner. Of course, Lucifer didn’t have anything dry to wear—his clothes were soaked from the storm, and the poor man had been left with nothing.

Adam groaned inwardly at his own lack of foresight but managed a comforting smile. “Right, of course. I’ll get you something. Just... wait here for a moment, okay?”

Lucifer frowned slightly, his eyes flicking around the room as though searching for some unseen presence.

“Okay…” he mumbled, his voice even softer now, his gaze distant. “But don’t be long.”

Adam chuckled at the odd remark, though it tugged at something deep within him. There was a sadness in Lucifer’s voice that Adam couldn’t quite place, as if he dreaded the thought of being left alone.

"I won’t be long, promise," Adam reassured him with a gentle smile, then turned to make his way toward his own bedroom.

As he rummaged through his drawers, he pulled out one of his old nightshirts—a simple blue t-shirt—and a pair of shorts. He eyed the trousers in his wardrobe but shook his head, realizing they would be far too big for someone as small and slender as Lucifer. The man barely reached Adam’s shoulder, and his delicate frame would swim in anything larger. The shirt and shorts would have to do.

Satisfied with his selection, Adam spun around—only to scream when he found Lucifer standing right behind him yet again. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest, and he stumbled back, clutching the clothes to his chest as if they might somehow protect him from the ghostly presence.

Lucifer flinched in surprise at Adam’s outburst, his wide eyes shimmering with the same startled emotion, and he nearly dropped his towel.

“I—I’m sorry,” Adam wheezed, his hand pressed against his chest as he tried to calm his racing heart. “I told you to wait for me! You’re going to give me a heart attack if you keep doing that!”

Lucifer’s expression shifted into something akin to a pout, his gaze falling to the floor as his shoulders sagged under the weight of his towel.

“I don’t like to be alone,” he admitted softly, the vulnerability in his voice twisting something deep inside Adam’s chest.

The admission hit Adam harder than he expected. The thought of this fragile, ethereal man feeling so lonely, so abandoned, tugged at his heartstrings.

Guilt swept over him, and he took a deep breath, his voice softening. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I didn’t realize…”

He held out the blue nightshirt and shorts, trying to offer some comfort with his words and actions.

“Here,” Adam said gently, “You can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in. They’re probably a bit big, but it’s better than nothing, right?”

Lucifer’s eyes lifted from the floor, slowly locking onto the clothes in Adam’s hands. There was a strange, almost reverent look in his gaze, as if the simple act of offering him something to wear meant more than Adam could have ever guessed. For a moment, they stood in silence, the soft hum of the storm outside their only witness.

The air between them thickened, charged with a tension that Adam couldn’t quite name. It was as if the room itself had become smaller, the space between them filled with an inexplicable connection—an unspoken understanding that neither of them could voice but both felt in their bones.

Lucifer reached out tentatively, his slender fingers brushing against the fabric of the nightshirt as though testing its reality. His gaze flickered up to meet Adam’s, and for the first time since entering the tavern, a faint smile ghosted across his pale lips.

“Thank you,” Lucifer murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear. But there was warmth in his tone now—a fragile warmth, as if he were afraid to let himself feel it fully.

Adam nodded, his heart doing a strange, uneasy flip in his chest. “You’re welcome,” he said quietly, watching as Lucifer took the clothes from him with a small nod of gratitude.

As Adam turned to give Lucifer some privacy, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something deeper at play here—something far beyond the storm raging outside, or the strange circumstances that had brought this man to his door. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucifer was more than just a lost soul seeking shelter. There was a mystery hidden behind those golden-red eyes, a story that begged to be unravelled.

And despite the strange, almost magical tension in the air, Adam found himself drawn to the idea of uncovering whatever secrets Lucifer was hiding.

For better or for worse, this night was far from over.

Adam tried to keep his eyes focused ahead, desperately attempting to ignore the distracting presence behind him. He didn’t mean to, but Lucifer’s shadow kept catching his attention—long, slender, and oddly ethereal in the dim glow of the lamps. Despite himself, Adam’s gaze flickered over his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but notice the way Lucifer’s pale skin gleamed in the low light. It was almost unnaturally flawless, save for a faint dusting of specks across his shoulders and lower back, like stardust scattered over the night sky.

Adam's heart thudded in his chest as he quickly tore his eyes away, feeling the flush rise in his cheeks. He forced himself to focus on the books he had pretended to be organizing, though his thoughts were a chaotic mess. Why did he keep getting so distracted by Lucifer’s presence? Why was the air between them so charged with an unspoken tension?

He was about to return to his work when he felt a gentle tug on his shirt. Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat, and turned slowly. Lucifer stood right behind him, staring up with those intense golden-red eyes, his pale face framed by damp tendrils of hair. Now fully dressed in Adam’s clothes, Lucifer looked... adorable. The oversized shirt hung loosely on his slight frame, and the shorts, too big for his slender hips, gave him a dishevelled yet endearing look that tugged at something deep within Adam.

A smile, unbidden and soft, tugged at Adam’s lips. “Let me take you back to your room, so you can rest,” he said gently, trying to suppress the strange flutter in his chest.

Lucifer, however, didn’t move. His gaze wandered around Adam's room, taking in the simple furnishings and the warm, cozy atmosphere.

“Whose room is this?” he asked, his voice quiet but curious.

Adam flushed slightly, shifting his weight awkwardly.

“It’s, uh... it’s mine,” he admitted, a little embarrassed at how small and personal the space felt now that Lucifer was in it.

To Adam’s surprise, Lucifer frowned slightly, his expression thoughtful.

“I’ll stay here,” he said softly, as if the decision was already made.

Adam blinked, momentarily taken aback. “No, you can’t.”

But Lucifer didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. He stepped closer, his eyes searching Adam’s face with a quiet intensity that made the air feel heavy again.

“Why not?” he asked, his voice a gentle whisper that sent a shiver down Adam’s spine.

“This is my room, and... you need your own space to rest.” he replied, chuckling awkwardly, though the tension in the room was thick.

Lucifer continued to stare.

Adam swallowed hard, his mind scrambling for a response. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It wasn’t just that Lucifer was a stranger; it was the overwhelming strangeness of the entire situation. Adam had only just met this man, and yet here he was, standing in his bedroom, asking to stay. The logical part of Adam’s brain screamed that this was madness, that he should insist on boundaries. But there was something about the way Lucifer looked at him—something vulnerable, almost broken.

Before Adam could gather his thoughts, Lucifer inched closer. His voice dropped lower, soft and fragile, like a breeze whispering through the cracks of an old door.

“Please... I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared to be alone.”

The words hit Adam like a punch to the gut. He gasped, his green eyes widening as he looked down at Lucifer, who now stood so close he could feel the chill still lingering in his skin. There was something so raw, so painfully honest in Lucifer’s voice that it left Adam breathless.

In that moment, all of Adam’s reservations crumbled. How could he say no to someone who was so clearly in pain, so desperate for comfort? The fear in Lucifer’s eyes wasn’t just about being left alone for the night—it seemed to run much deeper, like a wound that had never healed.

“Of course…” Adam finally managed to say, his voice softer than he intended. “You can stay.”

Lucifer’s face lit up with a small, almost relieved smile, and it was as though the tension in the room melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread between them. The storm outside continued to rage, the wind howling and rain battering against the windows, but inside, the air was thick with something different now—something fragile, intimate, and strangely magnetic.

Adam could feel his heart racing in his chest as Lucifer stepped closer, until they were standing just inches apart. He hadn’t expected any of this—hadn’t expected a stranger to crash into his life like this, stirring up emotions he hadn’t even known he was capable of feeling. And yet, here he was, his heart pounding in his chest, drawn inexplicably to the quiet sadness that lingered behind Lucifer’s golden-red eyes.

“I promise,” Adam whispered, almost to himself, though he was speaking to Lucifer. “You won’t be alone. I won’t leave you alone.”

Lucifer smiled again, this time a little brighter, a little more genuine. And for a moment, despite the storm raging outside, the world seemed to stand still.

As the two stood there, the storm's relentless howl outside fading into the background, Adam couldn’t help but notice just how fragile Lucifer truly looked. His pale skin almost glowed in the dim light, his frame so thin it seemed like a breath of wind might carry him away. Adam’s heart twisted, a wave of protectiveness rising within him. Gently, he placed a hand on Lucifer’s cold, delicate shoulder.

“You should lie down and try to sleep,” Adam murmured softly, his voice carrying a note of concern.

He began to guide Lucifer toward the plush, inviting bed, its thick quilts and soft pillows promising warmth and comfort. Lucifer’s red-gold eyes flicked nervously between the bed and Adam, as though unsure of what to do next. He stumbled slightly, his bony feet dragging as Adam coaxed him toward the soft mattress.

Wordless, Lucifer sat down, his movements stiff and tentative. Adam pulled back the heavy blankets, making sure they were arranged just right before gesturing for Lucifer to settle in. The man moved with hesitation, almost as if he didn’t belong in such a warm, safe space. But it wasn’t until Adam turned to step away that Lucifer’s cold hand shot out, grabbing his wrist with surprising urgency.

“Please,” Lucifer whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire and the distant roar of the storm. Adam looked down, startled by the pleading in Lucifer’s eyes—those haunting, golden-red eyes that now seemed larger, more vulnerable.

“Lay down with me. Only until I fall asleep.”

For a moment, Adam was frozen, torn between the undeniable strangeness of the situation and the deep, magnetic pull he felt toward this man. There was something in Lucifer’s gaze, something raw and aching that made it impossible for Adam to refuse. It wasn’t just fear—it was loneliness, the kind that settled deep in one’s soul and took root.

Lucifer's eyes held a desperation that tugged at Adam's heartstrings. How could he say no? Every instinct told him to help, to ease whatever invisible burden Lucifer was carrying. Without saying a word, Adam gave a small nod, his chest tightening as he knelt beside the bed and slipped off his shoes. Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, his movements hesitant at first, unsure if this was really happening. He could feel the heat of Lucifer's gaze on him the entire time, that quiet intensity never wavering.

Lucifer scooted over just enough to make room for Adam, his frail body sinking into the thick blankets. He lay down on his side, facing Adam, his eyes never leaving his. There was something ethereal about the way Lucifer moved, like he didn’t quite belong in this world—or at least, not in Adam’s world.

Tentatively, Adam lay down beside him, keeping a respectful distance at first. The warmth of the bed instantly enveloped him, but it was the presence of Lucifer, so close and so quietly vulnerable, that made his heart race. For a few moments, neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room the soft patter of rain against the windows and the distant rumble of thunder. It felt strangely intimate, lying there in the dim light, with the storm raging outside.

Lucifer's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, his breathing shallow but steady. Adam watched him quietly, his heart pounding in his chest. There was something magnetic about this man, something that made it hard to look away. But then Lucifer shifted, moving just a little closer, his slender fingers brushing against Adam’s arm. Adam stilled at the touch, his breath hitching slightly.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt this... safe,” Lucifer murmured, his voice soft and distant, as if he were speaking to himself more than to Adam. “It’s strange.”

Adam swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.

“You’re safe here,” he said gently, the words coming out almost automatically. “I promise.”

Lucifer’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though his eyes remained closed. He moved closer still, their bodies now almost touching, and Adam could feel the chill radiating from him. Instinctively, without thinking, Adam shifted too, pulling the thick quilt higher around Lucifer’s shoulders and wrapping an arm around him, as though to shield him from the cold.

Lucifer’s breath hitched softly, and for a moment, Adam feared he had crossed a line. But then Lucifer leaned into him, his head resting against Adam’s chest. His body was cold, but the vulnerability in that simple gesture was enough to warm the space between them.

“Thank you,” Lucifer whispered, his voice so faint it was almost drowned out by the storm.

Adam didn’t respond with words, instead tightening his embrace ever so slightly. He didn’t know why, but in that moment, it felt right—like he was meant to be there, holding Lucifer in the warmth of his bed while the storm raged on outside. As Lucifer’s breathing slowed and deepened, Adam could feel the tension begin to melt away from his fragile form.

Lucifer’s hand remained on Adam’s chest, a reminder of their strange and sudden connection. And as sleep began to pull Lucifer under, Adam lay awake, listening to the rhythm of the storm outside, wondering just what kind of magic had brought this mysterious, broken man into his life.

In the flickering firelight, Adam stared up at the ceiling, his mind racing. The storm might have driven Lucifer to his door, but Adam knew that this was only the beginning of something far more mysterious, and perhaps far more dangerous, than he could ever have imagined.

The tavern had fallen into a deep, eerie silence as the night thickened, the only sound being the soft crackle of the fire in Adam’s small bedroom hearth. The warmth of the bed, the gentle rise and fall of Adam’s chest beside him, lulled Lucifer into a stillness that was almost peaceful. Adam, with his brown and red hair tousled against the pillows, had fallen asleep easily, nestled against Lucifer's side, his arm draped loosely around Lucifer’s waist.

The clock struck 3:00 a.m., a subtle chime echoing through the ancient tavern. Lucifer's eyes, glowing with an ethereal red-gold light, flicked open. He sat up slowly, his movements fluid, almost inhumanly graceful. His gaze fell on Adam’s face, softened in sleep. There was something pure about him, something gentle and unguarded that made Lucifer smile—a smile that didn’t quite reach his unnaturally bright eyes.

"You’re so kind," he whispered, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room, fingers brushing lightly against Adam’s cheek. The touch was delicate, reverent, as though he was tracing something fragile, something precious. "You’re so sweet and kind, Adam. I can see why it has attached itself to you."

Adam stirred in his sleep, nuzzling closer to Lucifer, seeking the warmth of his presence without waking. The innocent gesture made Lucifer’s smile deepen, a mix of tenderness and something far darker. He gently pushed back the strands of Adam’s hair that had fallen across his face, his cold fingertips lingering against the warmth of his skin.

"I think I will take its place," Lucifer whispered, leaning down so close his breath ghosted over Adam’s lips. "But I’ll make sure our bond is stronger. Ten times stronger."

He let his lips brush against Adam’s, a barely-there kiss, tasting the sweetness of his breath, feeling the softness of his mouth. Lucifer sighed in pleasure, pulling back with a look of almost regret, but it was fleeting, replaced by something darker, something far more dangerous. His eyes, once so gentle, darkened—pupils narrowing into demonic slits as his true nature peeked through.

Without a sound, Lucifer slipped out from the bed, leaving the warmth behind without a second thought. He stood beside Adam, his tall figure casting a long shadow that flickered in the firelight, his once soft expression now twisted into something predatory. He bent down, fingers tracing the lines of Adam’s face—the ridge of his nose, the curve of his lips. The hunger in Lucifer's eyes deepened.

"I want more than your kindness," he sang softly, a whisper of a melody that hung in the air like a dark lullaby. "I want everything."

Lucifer leaned down again, pressing his lips to Adam’s in a slow, deliberate kiss. His cool fingers traced a path from Adam’s cheek down to his throat, lingering there as if feeling the steady pulse beneath. He kissed along Adam’s jaw, his lips brushing feather-light over his skin, leaving a trail of icy tingles that made Adam stir in his sleep. Lucifer’s tongue flicked out, tasting the delicate flesh of his neck, and he pulled back with a sigh, his face alight with desire and something far more insidious.

"I don’t just want your soul," Lucifer whispered, his voice taking on a lilting, almost sing-song tone. "I want your love, your devotion... I want you completely."

He pressed more kisses to Adam’s skin, softer now, almost tender, as if savouring the moment. But there was a hunger behind every touch, a need that went beyond mere affection. Lucifer's sharp teeth grazed Adam's throat, and he let out a soft, shuddering breath before pulling away, running his tongue over his own lips as though relishing the taste.

"But first..." Lucifer’s voice dropped, his face darkening as shadows seemed to ripple over his features. The glow in his eyes sharpened, pupils narrowing further as small, curved horns began to push through his golden hair. "I need to get rid of the pest."

His fingers trailed down Adam’s chest, lingering over his heart as though feeling the life pulsing beneath the surface.

"I’ll be back soon, my love," Lucifer whispered, his tone dripping with dangerous promise. "Let me take care of our tavern first."

Adam whimpered softly in his sleep, his body instinctively shifting toward Lucifer as if seeking his presence. Lucifer’s grin stretched wider, exposing the sharp points of his teeth as he let out a low, satisfied chuckle. A long, sleek tail slipped from beneath the borrowed black shorts, swaying lazily in the air as Lucifer stood up straight.

"I won’t be gone long," he promised, his voice low and sultry. His eyes gleamed with dark anticipation as he turned toward the door, casting one last glance at Adam's sleeping form before slipping into the shadows.

"Let the hunt begin..."

A soft giggle escaped his lips as he moved silently into the tavern, the darkness swallowing him whole. His voice drifted through the still air, a haunting melody that seemed to echo through the walls.

"I'm so hungry," he purred to himself, his smile widening as his demonic form began to fully manifest, horns gleaming and tail flicking with excitement. "I haven’t eaten in such a long time."

Lucifer moved through the darkened tavern like a shadow, his steps silent, deliberate, as if he were part of the very night itself. His golden-red eyes gleamed with wicked amusement, a predatory glow that flickered in the low light of the dying fire in the hearth. His sleek tail swayed behind him like an amused cat, the sharp tip curling with anticipation, flicking lazily from side to side. His horns had grown sharper, gleaming faintly as they lengthened, curving in a way that hinted at the immense power coiling just beneath his surface.

A low chuckle escaped his lips, soft and mocking, as he scented the air. The tavern was empty, silent, but Lucifer knew better. The other demon—the pest—was still here, hiding, trembling in the shadows like a coward.

"Oh, you poor, wretched thing," Lucifer purred, his voice laced with sweet venom as he stalked through the main hall of the tavern, his gaze shifting from shadow to shadow. His footsteps were slow, purposeful, as he moved past the tables and chairs, brushing his fingers along the wooden surfaces as if savouring the moment. "Do you even know who I am? Or are you too far beneath me to recognize power when it’s in your midst?"

Silence greeted him, but Lucifer's grin only widened. His voice, darkly playful, filled the empty space as he taunted the unseen demon lurking nearby.

"I’m insulted, truly," he continued, the amusement in his tone thickening as he weaved his way through the tavern, each step deliberates, calculated. "Still here, even after you must’ve sensed me, after you should’ve known to run the moment, I stepped through that door. But no—you stayed. How pathetic."

Lucifer’s tail flicked again, the tip swaying like a pendulum, and his sharp eyes flickered towards the deeper shadows, where the low-ranked demon undoubtedly cowered. He could feel its weak, pitiful presence—feeble compared to his own, like a mere insect trying to survive in the presence of a lion.

"How long have you been feeding on my Adam?" Lucifer’s voice grew darker, more dangerous, but there was still a trace of a smile on his lips. "Clinging to him, draining him while you hide in the corners like the vermin you are. Did you really think you could last forever? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?"

He paused, inhaling deeply, savouring the lingering scent of the demon’s essence—a foul stench to his refined senses. Lucifer’s lips curled in disdain, but he didn't lose his amusement. Instead, he let out a light laugh, shrugging his shoulders as if the creature’s weakness was beneath his concern.

"No matter. It ends tonight anyway," Lucifer cooed, his voice a soft lullaby of impending doom. "You should’ve run while you had the chance."

Lucifer’s smile twisted into something far more sinister as he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes gleaming with hellish delight as they scanned the darkened room. His footsteps were soft, almost gentle, but they carried the weight of impending violence, of inevitable destruction. He was in no rush; after all, this was his hunt, his game, and he wanted to savour it.

"You’re not very good at hiding, are you?" Lucifer teased, his voice dripping with mockery. "So weak. So pitiful. You can’t even speak, can you? Too frightened to show yourself. How disappointing."

The shadows shifted, but no response came, just as Lucifer expected. His grin widened, flashing the points of his sharp teeth, and his eyes darkened, becoming almost pitch-black, as if the fires of Hell themselves were glowing deep within them.

And then he sensed it—a tremor, faint but unmistakable, coming from behind the pantry door. Lucifer’s grin stretched wider, his sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light as he turned his head toward the source of the pitiful presence.

"Found you~" he whispered, his voice a sweet, haunting melody.

Without hesitation, Lucifer strode toward the pantry, his tail flicking in excitement. The door swung open with a soft creak, and there, cowering in the shadows, was the demon—a wretched, trembling thing barely worthy of being called such. Its presence was weak, pathetic compared to Lucifer’s.

Lucifer's eyes darkened further, glowing like embers in the night, and a small flame flickered to life between the tips of his horns, casting an eerie glow in the room. A serpent, sleek and black, curled itself around the flame, its body coiling like a halo around his horns. Lucifer’s grin was terrifying now, wide and sharp, his hunger palpable.

As he stepped closer, his back shuddered, and with a sudden, violent burst, six monstrous wings erupted from his slender form, towering behind him like the wings of a dark god. They shimmered with a hellish glow, casting deep, rippling shadows along the walls, though his t-shirt remained pristine, as if reality itself bent to Lucifer's will.

The demon whimpered, but no sound escaped its lips as Lucifer loomed over it, his presence overwhelming, suffocating.

"I told you," Lucifer whispered, his voice as soft as silk, yet dripping with malice. "It ends tonight."

There was no scream. No sound at all as Lucifer devoured the lesser demon, his body absorbing its essence with an ease that was almost effortless. The tavern remained deathly quiet, the only sound being the faint crackle of the fire back in Adam’s room. Lucifer straightened himself, his eyes glowing once again with that soft red-gold light, his wings folding gracefully behind him as the serpent curled tighter around his horns.

With a satisfied hum, Lucifer turned away, his grin fading into a look of contentment as he made his way back to the cozy warmth of Adam’s bed. He slipped under the thick quilts without a sound, pressing himself against Adam’s sleeping form. He wiggled closer, nestling into Adam’s arms, his tail swaying lazily behind him as he settled in. The warmth was delicious, comforting, and Lucifer sighed happily, his belly full and his soul content.

He licked his lips, savouring the lingering taste of the weaker demon, and whispered softly into the quiet room, "Don’t worry, Adam... you won’t ever feel like that again. I’ve eaten them."

Adam only snored softly in response, completely unaware of the dark presence he had allowed into his tavern, oblivious to the danger that now lay beside him, so close, so intimate. Lucifer smiled to himself, content and full, resting his head against Adam's chest as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

For now, all was quiet. All was well.

Lucifer closed his eyes, drifting into a peaceful slumber with Adam nestled at his side, his sharp grin fading into a soft, satisfied smile.

Lucifer’s voice was a silky, hypnotic purr as he spoke, his lips curling into a devilish smile. “I’ll ensure all your dreams come true, Adam,” he whispered, his words dripping with promises of temptation and pleasure. His long, sleek tail swayed behind him, curling through the air like a contented cat, amused and full of dark joy.

“All you’ve got to give me in return,” Lucifer continued, his golden-red eyes gleaming as they locked onto Adam’s sleeping form, “Is yourself.”

He bent down, brushing his cool lips against Adam’s ear, his breath sending a shiver through the slumbering man. Lucifer’s hand slid down Adam’s arm, feather-light, as though savoring every inch of his touch. His voice dropped even lower, a seductive murmur that danced on the edge of Adam’s subconscious.

“Oh, Adam,” he purred, “As long as you do as I say... we’ll be so happy together. Running our tavern, filling it with guests, laughter, and warmth.”

His smile widened, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim firelight. “They’ll never know the truth—never know what we truly are. But you, my dear, will have everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Lucifer’s tail swished again, the tip flicking with mischief as he traced the lines of Adam’s face, his eyes dark with possessive hunger.

“I'll make sure you never want for anything. No pain, no loneliness... Just us. Our little world. Doesn't that sound perfect?”

Adam murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, unaware of the dark entity by his side. Lucifer’s eyes gleamed, watching the gentle rise and fall of Adam's chest, and for a moment, his expression softened into something almost tender. But it didn’t last long.

“You’ll be mine, Adam,” Lucifer whispered, his voice sweet as poison. “Forever.”

With one last soft kiss to Adam’s brow, Lucifer slipped back under the covers, pulling Adam close to his side. The night stretched on, quiet and undisturbed, but the air in the room had shifted—charged with dark energy and whispered promises.

Everything changed for Adam overnight, as if a spell had been cast upon his life, turning his quiet tavern into a bustling haven of activity. He had no idea how or why this had happened, but the transformation was undeniable. His once modest inn, where he seldom had more than three guests at a time, suddenly overflowed with visitors. The sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and lively conversation now filled the tavern’s halls, and while it was thrilling, it was also overwhelming. He was stretched thin, juggling a flood of tasks he’d never imagined handling all at once.

Thankfully, Lucifer was by his side. Adam couldn’t even begin to express the gratitude he felt for him. Lucifer had been nothing short of a miracle, helping to manage the tavern with effortless grace, attending to guests as if he had always been part of Adam’s world. His charm was magnetic, his presence soothing.

Overnight, Lucifer seemed to become a new person—more vibrant, more expressive. He laughed more, and his smile, Adam noticed, was enchanting, warm and genuine. It caught Adam off-guard how much his heart would flutter when their eyes met, Lucifer’s golden-red gaze gleaming with an otherworldly light. The way Lucifer always happened to be there when something went wrong—a guest upset, a sudden breakdown in the tavern’s equipment—it was as if he anticipated the chaos before it even happened, stepping in to handle it with calm precision. And always with that smile, that captivating, slightly mischievous grin.

Adam often felt guilty, watching Lucifer work so tirelessly beside him. The tavern had never been this busy, and while the increased business was a blessing, it was a double-edged sword. He couldn't keep up alone, and yet, Lucifer never once complained. Adam had even mentioned off-handedly that he might need more help. A day later, a small, strange woman named Nifty appeared, bubbly and eager to work as a maid in exchange for accommodation. Then there was the night Adam half-jokingly said they could use a bartender—and sure enough, a surly man named Husk showed up at his door, willing to pour drinks in the evenings. It was uncanny. Each time Adam voiced a need, someone came along to fill it.

It wasn’t until one quiet afternoon, with the tavern finally settling into a comfortable hum, that Adam found himself sitting beside Lucifer, reviewing the tavern’s bank books. Lucifer was curled up next to him, head resting on Adam’s shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around his bicep, purring softly. Adam frowned at the rows of numbers on the page, confusion knitting his brow.

“What’s wrong?” Lucifer’s voice was a low, curious murmur as he lifted his head to peer into Adam’s face. His expression was soft, but there was something sharp in his eyes, always watching.

Adam sighed, his frustration evident.

“It’s just the books,” he muttered, tapping the pages. “I can’t make sense of them anymore. With all the new business, the numbers are all over the place. It’s like I can’t keep track of anything.”

Lucifer hummed, glancing down at the ledger.

“Let me see,” he said, his voice smooth and soothing. Adam handed him the book, watching as Lucifer’s eyes quickly scanned the figures.

“I feel... kinda stupid,” Adam admitted with a sheepish smile.

“Do you think less of me? For not being able to manage my own place?” His tone was uncertain, laced with vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.

Lucifer’s response was immediate, his grip on Adam’s arm tightening as he leaned closer.

“Not at all,” he said softly, his voice warm and reassuring. “Don’t ever think that, Adam. You’ve done more than most could handle, especially with how quickly everything’s changed. You’re doing incredibly well.”

Adam's heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in Lucifer’s voice. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way Lucifer looked at him, like he truly meant every syllable.

Lucifer shifted his gaze back to the books. “But... maybe we should hire someone to handle the numbers. An accountant, perhaps?” he suggested, his tone light but thoughtful.

Adam groaned at the thought. “I’d love to, but they’re expensive. I got lucky with Nifty and Husk, but... I’m not sure I can afford someone else right now.”

A slow grin spread across Lucifer’s face, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Actually,” he began, his voice slipping into a smooth, almost conspiratorial tone, “I might know someone. My daughter from a previous marriage. She’s excellent with management—hotels, inns, you name it. She’d love to come work here.”

Adam blinked in surprise. “You have a daughter?”

His eyes widened with interest. “And she’d really want to work here?”

Lucifer chuckled, his hand tracing gentle circles on Adam’s arm as he continued. “She’d be perfect. And she wouldn’t even ask for much—just a place to stay, like Nifty. Though... she might want to bring her girlfriend with her. Vaggie’s her name. She’s no-nonsense, the type to keep things running smoothly. Now I think about it, Vaggie would make a good manager too.”

Adam considered the offer, his eyes brightening at the possibility.

“If you don’t mind... I’d love to have them,” he said, the relief evident in his voice.

Lucifer’s grin widened, his purring deepening as he leaned in closer. “Oh, Adam... I don’t mind at all.”

Within the hour, Adam found himself face-to-face with Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie, and her girlfriend, Vaggie. Their arrival had been so sudden, so seamless, it left Adam with a sense of whiplash. One moment, he was talking with Lucifer about needing help; the next, the two young women stood before him, bright-eyed and ready to move in. It was as though they had materialized out of thin air, bags already packed. Adam couldn’t deny he was relieved, even if a bit unnerved by how fast everything was happening.

Charlie, with her bubbly, infectious energy, had a natural knack for leadership. Within hours of stepping foot into the tavern, she began reorganizing things, setting up new systems with the kind of expertise one would expect from someone who had been managing inns for years. Vaggie, quieter but sharp-eyed, followed close behind, her no-nonsense attitude ensuring that things ran smoothly. Together, they transformed the place in a way Adam had never imagined. Business boomed, guests were happier, and the tavern itself felt... revitalized.

But as the days passed, there was a certain undercurrent—something just beneath the surface that Adam couldn’t quite put his finger on. A quiet tension that often sparked in Lucifer’s eyes, though it never seemed directed at him. Until one night.

That evening, after another long day, Adam found a beautifully wrapped package waiting for him on the tavern's doorstep. Inside was a lovely, old-fashioned radio—polished wood and brass dials gleamed under the soft lighting of his room. It was vintage, elegant, and utterly charming. There was even a handwritten note from an "admirer," which made Adam smile. He wasn’t sure who had sent it, but the gift felt thoughtful and quaint, and he was eager to show Lucifer.

When Lucifer entered their shared room later that night, Adam excitedly gestured to the radio, already positioned on the bedside table. But the moment Lucifer laid eyes on it, his entire demeanor changed. His casual smile faltered, and his expression tightened into something dark, almost dangerous.

It was as though the very sight of the radio offended him.

“Is everything alright?” Adam asked, concern lacing his voice as he watched Lucifer step closer to the device, his movements slow and deliberate.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a strained smile. “Where did you get this?” he asked, voice low and tightly controlled.

Adam blinked, a bit taken aback by Lucifer’s sudden shift in mood. He twisted on his side of the bed, grabbing the small card that had come with the radio and handing it over. “It was sent to me by an admirer. I thought it was sweet,” Adam explained, still unsure why Lucifer was reacting so oddly. “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

“Incredibly,” Lucifer replied, though his voice was far from warm. His eyes flickered over the card, the tension in his shoulders growing more pronounced. He breathed sharply through his nose, and his grip on the card tightened as if it were something dangerous. “But Adam,” he added through clenched teeth, “I don’t like having electric things in the bedroom.”

Adam frowned, glancing back at the radio. “But it’s battery-powered…” he said, his tone soft, confused.

Lucifer’s smile grew even tighter, a strained mockery of his usual charm. “Please, Addie,” he said, voice dripping with forced sweetness, “can’t we move it out of the room?”

Adam hummed thoughtfully, sitting up and beginning to crawl off the bed. “I don’t see what the harm would be, but—”

Before he could finish, Lucifer lunged forward, snatching the radio from its place before Adam could touch it. “I’ll handle it!” he said, too brightly, his voice almost unnervingly cheerful. “You stay right here, love. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Adam blinked, startled by Lucifer’s sudden intensity, watching him leave the room with the radio clutched tightly in his hands. The door closed behind him with a soft click, and Adam muttered to himself, brow furrowed, “What’s Lucifer’s deal with radios?”

Outside in the darkened corridor, Lucifer’s expression immediately soured. His once-pleasant facade dropped like a mask, revealing a look of pure contempt. He held the radio at arm’s length, glaring at it as though it were something foul.

“You are unwelcome here,” Lucifer hissed, shaking the radio as static crackled ominously from its speakers. “This tavern belongs to me, and you have no place in it.”

The static grew louder, warbling with distortion before a voice, smooth and taunting, crackled through the speaker. “Oh, Lucifer, always so territorial. You’re being far too possessive over such an unimpressive human.”

Lucifer’s grip tightened, his claws slowly extending as he seethed.

“Watch your tongue,” he spat, eyes glowing with a dangerous light. “I don’t care if you’re friends with Charlie. This place is mine.”

A soft, amused laugh echoed from the radio, the static almost mocking. “Ah, poor Lucifer. You’ve gone soft, haven’t you? Such big talk for someone who’s let a human cloud their judgment. Does he even know what you are?”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened, his pupils narrowing into slits as a low growl rumbled in his chest.

“What I am is none of your concern,” he said coldly, his voice thick with menace. “And you…”

He shook the radio again, his lips curling into a snarl. “You’ve overstayed your welcome.”

The voice on the other end laughed again, more softly this time, but it was cut short as Lucifer slammed the radio against the wall. The wood splintered, static screeched, and the radio fell silent.

Breathing heavily, Lucifer watched as the pieces of the radio fizzled out, its presence snuffed like a candle. His gaze lingered on the broken device for a moment longer before he turned, the dim light of the hallway casting long shadows across his form.

With a satisfied smirk, Lucifer whispered, “I warned you.”

He straightened, smoothing his appearance before heading back to Adam. The tension that had gripped him moments ago seemed to melt away, replaced with the smooth, self-assured confidence he wore like armor. He re-entered the room quietly, slipping back under the covers beside Adam, who had fallen into a light sleep.

Lucifer snuggled closer to him, his tail curling possessively around Adam’s leg as he whispered, “Don’t worry, my love. I’m back now, no stupid radios can get to you now~”

Adam stirred slightly, mumbling in his sleep, unaware of the darkness that had just been purged from his tavern—or the demon he had unknowingly allowed into his bed. Lucifer smirked to himself, his cool lips brushing against Adam’s ear as he murmured, “I’ll make sure you’ll only want me~”

The next morning, Adam woke to the soft, golden light filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. He stretched, feeling the comforting weight of the blankets cocooning him, but something tugged at the edges of his mind—the radio. He blinked, glancing over at the bedside table where the lovely old-fashioned radio had been placed the night before. It was gone.

Adam frowned and sat up slowly, running a hand through his tousled brown hair. The room felt a little quieter, almost unnervingly so, without the faint static hum the radio had given off. He turned to Lucifer, who was lounging on the other side of the bed, his golden-red eyes half-lidded with contentment. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Lucifer?” Adam began, his voice soft as he glanced around the room. “Where did you put the radio?”

Lucifer’s eyes flickered, a sharp gleam passing through them before his expression softened into a bright, almost too-bright smile. He stretched leisurely, his movements fluid and graceful, as though the question amused him.

“Oh, darling,” Lucifer purred, his voice rich and honeyed, “don’t worry about that. It’s taken care of.”

He rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as his other hand reached out to rest gently on Adam’s thigh. His touch was warm, deliberate, and a little too intimate.

Adam's brow furrowed for a moment, but before he could press further, Lucifer leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over Adam’s ear. “Why don’t we talk about something far more interesting?” he whispered, his fingers brushing lightly along Adam’s arm, sending a shiver through him. “Like us.”

Adam blinked, caught off guard as Lucifer’s fingers continued their soft, teasing caress. His cheeks blossomed into a bright, rosy red, the heat rushing to his face almost instantly. He let out a sharp intake of breath, his pulse quickening as Lucifer’s touch sent a flurry of warmth spiralling through him.

“L-Lucifer,” Adam stammered, shyly looking down at his hands, trying to hide the way his lips quirked into a small, bashful smile.

Lucifer, clearly delighted by Adam’s reaction, leaned in even closer, his lips ghosting the edge of Adam’s jaw as he whispered, “Oh, Addie... you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

His fingers slid further up Adam’s arm, drawing little patterns on his skin. “You’ve been working so hard lately. Let me take care of you.”

Adam swallowed thickly, his heart skipping a beat as Lucifer’s words wrapped around him like silk. The air between them seemed to thicken, charged with a tension that was both exciting and confusing. Adam had never been good with such open flirtation, and the way Lucifer looked at him—as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered—made his head spin.

“Y-you really think so?” Adam asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He tried to meet Lucifer’s gaze, but the intensity in those golden-red eyes made him glance away, his smile growing wider despite his attempts to stay composed.

Lucifer chuckled softly, his lips brushing dangerously close to Adam’s ear, sending another shiver down his spine.

“Of course, I do,” he murmured, his voice a low purr.

“You deserve to be cherished, my sweet Adam. You deserve all the affection I can give you.” His fingers slid to the back of Adam’s neck, his touch firm yet tender, pulling him in closer.

Adam's breath hitched, his entire body tingling with the warmth that Lucifer’s presence seemed to radiate. His mind raced, caught between the fluttering nerves in his chest and the soft, reassuring comfort of Lucifer’s touch. He wasn’t used to being the centre of someone’s attention like this, and Lucifer’s relentless charm left him feeling unsteady, though undeniably drawn in.

“W-we really should get back to work,” Adam finally managed to say, his voice shaky, though his body betrayed him as he leaned ever so slightly into Lucifer’s touch.

Lucifer’s smile widened, wicked and knowing, as if he could sense Adam’s reluctance wavering. He shifted, bringing himself closer, until their faces were mere inches apart.

“Oh, work can wait,” Lucifer whispered, his lips dangerously close to Adam’s, his breath warm against his skin. “Why not indulge a little, hmm? You’ve been so busy running this tavern… let me make you feel special.”

Adam’s heart thudded wildly in his chest, his face burning with the intensity of the moment. The room seemed smaller, warmer, as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. His green eyes flickered up to meet Lucifer’s gaze, and in that instant, he felt himself teetering on the edge of something dangerously tempting.

Lucifer’s thumb brushed against Adam’s lips, his voice soft and enticing as he whispered, “Wouldn’t you like that, Addie? To let go for a little while? Let me take care of you, just like I always do.”

Adam swallowed hard, his pulse racing as Lucifer’s words wrapped around him like a velvet glove. He knew he should pull away, that there were a hundred things that needed his attention, but in that moment, all he could think about was how close Lucifer was, how warm his touch felt, how much he wanted to close the distance between them.

With a soft, shaky breath, Adam nodded, his lips parting ever so slightly as he whispered, “I... I would.”

Lucifer’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against Adam’s in a feather-light kiss. It was teasing, tender, but enough to send Adam’s mind reeling.

“That’s my good boy,” Lucifer purred, his tail wrapping possessively around Adam’s waist as he pulled him in closer. “I’ll make sure you never feel less then anybody ever again.”

Breathlessly, Adam looped his arms around Lucifer’s neck, the tips of his fingers tracing lightly over the nape of his skin as he pulled him closer. His heart hammered against his chest, the intensity of the moment filling him with a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. The air between them was charged, heavy with the weight of unsaid promises and whispered desires.

Adam's lips brushed back against Lucifer's, tentative at first but growing bolder as he felt Lucifer’s warmth seeping into him. A soft smile tugged at Adam’s mouth, his voice dropping into a playful, almost teasing murmur as he whispered, “And I’ll make sure you never feel lonely again, Luci~”

Lucifer froze for a second, the nickname rolling off Adam’s tongue with a tenderness that caught even him off guard. His golden-red eyes flickered with something dangerous, a possessive gleam as his lips curled into a grin that was both predatory and charmed. He let out a low, rumbling purr from deep within his chest, his tail swaying behind him with cat-like satisfaction.

“Oh, Adam,” Lucifer purred, his voice dripping with amusement and something darker, something more intense. “You’re playing with fire, you know that?” His fingers curled around the small of Adam’s back, pulling him flush against him. “But I must admit... I like it.”

Adam felt a thrill run through him as he gazed into Lucifer's eyes, the heat of their closeness leaving him breathless. The connection between them, once unspoken and tenuous, was now powerfully charged with the spark of something more profound. The tavern, the bustling guests, the overwhelming workload—all of it faded away in that moment. All that existed was the two of them, entwined in this strange, magnetic pull neither could fully understand.

Lucifer’s hand slid slowly up Adam’s spine, his touch sending shivers down his body as he pressed his lips more firmly against Adam’s. This kiss wasn’t teasing or light—it was consuming, demanding, filled with an unspoken promise that made Adam’s heart race even faster. The fire between them roared, its flames licking at the edges of something forbidden, but neither of them seemed to care.

Adam responded eagerly, his hands tightening around Lucifer’s neck, fingers threading through his silky black hair. His breath hitched as Lucifer’s lips left his, trailing down his jaw and to his throat, each kiss sending sparks through his skin. He bit his lip, trying to suppress a groan as Lucifer’s teeth grazed his pulse point, the sensation both electrifying and intoxicating.

“You’re mine now, Addie,” Lucifer whispered against his skin, his voice a soft growl, filled with possessive hunger. His lips moved lower, brushing the sensitive skin at the base of Adam’s throat. “And I’m never letting you go.”

Adam gasped, his mind spinning as Lucifer’s words wrapped around him like a velvet trap, tightening with each kiss, each caress. He didn’t fight it, didn’t pull away—instead, he leaned into Lucifer, giving himself over to the dangerous allure of the fallen angel in his arms.

“Good,” Adam murmured breathlessly, a playful glint in his eyes as he gazed at Lucifer. “Because I’m not letting you go either.”

Lucifer’s grin widened, sharp and gleaming like the edge of a blade, his eyes darkening with delight at Adam’s response. He tilted his head, brushing a strand of hair from Adam’s face with a gentleness that was at odds with the intensity burning beneath his skin.

“You’ll regret saying that one day,” Lucifer teased, his voice low and velvety. But his eyes gleamed with pride, as though Adam’s words had struck something deep inside him—something that had been longing to be claimed. “But for now... I’ll take it as a promise.”

Lucifer’s lips crashed back into Adam’s, the kiss hungrier this time, more urgent, as though he were trying to devour every part of him, leaving nothing untouched. He tightened his grip on Adam, pulling him even closer.

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest, the sensation of being so completely enveloped by Lucifer both thrilling and terrifying. But as he kissed Lucifer back, his own fingers exploring the soft ridges of his back, his own desire took hold of him. He felt a strange sense of belonging, as though he had been waiting for this moment—this person—all along.

Lucifer pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against Adam’s lips.

“We’re going to be so good together, Addie,” he whispered, his voice filled with a dark promise. “You and me, ruling this tavern, this world... just you wait.”

Adam smiled, his lips brushing against Lucifer’s in a soft, lingering kiss before he whispered back, “Then let’s make it happen.”

Later that evening, Lucifer stood by the bar, his eyes dark and brooding, watching the busy tavern with a tight-lipped smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was the same kind of smile he reserved for the “Karens” of the tavern—the difficult guests who demanded everything but never appreciated anything. He despised having to put it on, but tonight, that bitter smile was for someone else entirely.

Across the room, Charlie was animatedly gesturing, her excitement powerful as she introduced him—Alastor.

The moment Lucifer laid eyes on the grinning figure; his stomach churned with irritation. Alastor, with his old-fashioned suit and unsettling permanent grin, strolled into the tavern as if he owned the place. His aura, humming with mischief and something darker, radiated through the room. The moment Charlie had mentioned her "old friend" was coming to help promote the tavern, Lucifer had felt the first stirrings of bitterness.

Now, seeing Alastor standing there, soaking in Charlie’s attention and admiration, Lucifer’s invisible tail twitched in barely concealed frustration. His golden-red eyes flickered dangerously, but he kept that strained smile plastered on his face as Charlie eagerly grabbed Adam by the arm and dragged him across the room.

"Come on, Adam!" she exclaimed, beaming as she pulled him forward. “I want you to meet Alastor! He’s going to help us promote the tavern—this is going to be huge for us!”

Lucifer’s grip tightened around the glass he was holding, the strain causing a faint crack to appear in the delicate crystal. Promote the tavern? The tavern didn’t need more guests, not since he had come into the picture. Business had been thriving—flourishing under his careful watch, his manipulation of fate itself.

But now Alastor? What could that pompous, grinning radio demon possibly offer that Lucifer hadn’t already provided?

Alastor’s eerie, ever-present grin widened as he turned to face Adam, offering a smooth, overly polite bow. “Ah, the famous Adam I’ve heard so much about! A pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve been dying to see what all the fuss is about~”

His voice dripped with a singsong charm, tinged with something far more sinister beneath the surface.

Adam, ever polite, extended his hand, though the unease was clear in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, glancing at Charlie, then back at the enigmatic figure before him.

Lucifer watched the exchange from the bar, his fingers digging into the countertop. His irritation only deepened as Alastor took Adam’s hand, shaking it with an exaggerated flourish, as though every moment was part of some grand, twisted performance. The way Alastor’s eyes gleamed, the smugness in his tone—it grated on Lucifer’s every nerve.

Fucking asshole! Even after I gave him that warning, he still dared to show up! Lucifer thought darkly, his smile tightening even more as his patience thinned.

Alastor wasn’t just some flashy distraction. He was a wildcard—an unpredictable force. And worse, he had history with Charlie, a closeness that Lucifer could feel was already weaving its way into the heart of his tavern.

Charlie continued to gush excitedly, explaining her plans with Alastor to help the tavern reach new heights, oblivious to Lucifer’s darkening mood.

Lucifer swallowed down his growing anger, forcing his features to remain composed, even as his thoughts turned more venomous. Alastor had barely been in the tavern for five minutes, and already he was trying to charm his way into Adam’s good graces. It was insulting.

Just as Alastor released Adam’s hand, his gaze drifted towards Lucifer, and for the briefest moment, their eyes locked. The smile Alastor wore twitched, and Lucifer could feel the challenge in it—a silent acknowledgment of the tension between them.

“Ah, Lucifer,” Alastor greeted with a mockingly gracious nod. “It’s been so long. I didn’t realize you’d become such a... fixture here.”

“Oh, I’ve made myself quite comfortable,” he replied, voice deceptively smooth. Lucifer’s jaw clenched, “And you?”

His eyes narrowed just a fraction. “What brings you here after all this time?”

Alastor’s grin only widened, and Lucifer hated the way it didn’t falter for even a second.

“Why, to help, of course!” he said brightly. “Charlie asked, and I simply couldn’t refuse. The potential here, Lucifer... it’s truly remarkable.”

The words were innocent enough, but Lucifer could hear the undercurrent of smugness in his tone. Alastor wasn’t here just to help—he was here to leave his mark, to claim some of the glory Lucifer had already built.

Adam, still standing between the two demons, sensed the tension but seemed unsure of what to do. His eyes darted between them, and when Lucifer finally looked at him, his heart softened—just slightly. Adam’s confusion, his unspoken plea for things to be fine, tugged at Lucifer’s possessive streak.

Lucifer smiled—this time, not so tight-lipped—and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Adam’s waist in a protective, almost territorial gesture.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll work perfectly together,” Lucifer purred, his voice silkier now, meant only for Adam and Alastor to hear. “After all, I’m quite invested in this place. And I take care of my investments.”

Alastor chuckled, the sound low and amused, as if Lucifer’s words were nothing more than an entertaining jest.

“Of course, Lucifer,” he said, his grin never wavering. “I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed dangerously, and for a split second, his horns were visible and seemed to glint in the dim tavern light. His smile returned, but this time, it was sharper—more predatory.

“Good,” he said softly, his voice a velvet threat. “Because I’d hate for things to get... complicated.”

Charlie, oblivious to the brewing storm between the two, clapped her hands together. “Great! I’m so glad you two are going to get along!”

Adam stood awkwardly, caught between the thick tension that seemed to swirl around Lucifer and Alastor. The two demons clearly had history—bitter, ancient history that Adam could sense even without knowing the details. It made him uncomfortable, a shiver of unease creeping up his spine as he glanced between them. But despite the undercurrent of hostility, he forced a smile, reminding himself that this was a golden opportunity for his tavern.

Charlie’s excitement had been infectious, her belief in Alastor’s ability to help undeniable. So when Alastor offered his assistance, Adam—naïvely, perhaps—accepted it. He barely noticed the way Lucifer’s face twisted with displeasure, the sharp glint in his eyes darkening as Adam agreed. Even when Alastor, ever the showman, swept both Adam and Charlie away with a flourish, Lucifer’s simmering anger went unnoticed.

But Vaggie noticed.

Standing beside Lucifer, her arms crossed and her usual no-nonsense demeanor intact, she let out a dry snort. “He gets on my nerves too,” she muttered, her eyes trailing after Alastor with a distaste that matched Lucifer’s.

Lucifer glanced at her from the corner of his sharp, burning gaze, slightly relieved that he wasn’t alone in his bitterness. “Tell me again how much Charlie cares for him?” he asked, his voice laced with mock innocence, though the edge in his tone was unmistakable.

Vaggie groaned, pinching the bridge of her hooked nose in frustration. “Way too much.”

Lucifer grunted, folding his arms. “Fuck.”

Vaggie let out a breathy agreement, nodding. It was a rare moment of solidarity between the two of them—both unwilling to cross Charlie’s deep affection for the Radio Demon, yet clearly fed up with his presence. Alastor’s charm might have won over Charlie and even Adam, but Lucifer and Vaggie saw the twisted undercurrents beneath the surface.

As the two watched from across the room, Alastor produced a contract from thin air, his ever-present grin widening as he presented it to Adam for review. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed sharply at the sight, his tail flicking with agitation. The scene screamed of trouble, and he knew better than to trust anything that came from Alastor’s hand.

Vaggie straightened up, eyeing the contract warily. “Well, better go make sure there’s no... undertones in that,” she muttered, already moving to intervene.

Lucifer snorted, his voice dripping with dry amusement. “Way ahead of you, Maggie.”

She twitched, side-eyeing him. “Vaggie.”

Lucifer waved her off with a dismissive flick of his hand. “That’s what I said.”

He started walking towards Adam and Alastor with purpose, his footsteps silent but full of intent. Just before he reached them, he tossed over his shoulder, “Now excuse me, I’ve got to make sure my future husband doesn’t accidentally sign his soul away.”

Vaggie blinked, caught off guard by the casual declaration. “Husband? Since when?”

Lucifer cast her a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Since always. He just isn’t aware of it yet.”

Vaggie let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking her head in exasperation. “Guess it’s true what they say—like father, like daughter.”

Lucifer didn’t respond, his focus solely on Adam, who was innocently thumbing through the pages of the contract, blissfully unaware of the dangers lurking within it. Alastor stood beside him, watching with an almost predatory patience, his grin never faltering.

With a swift, deliberate motion, Lucifer slid up behind Adam, wrapping an arm possessively around his waist. “Darling, are we reading contracts without me now?” he purred, his voice smooth as silk but cold as ice. His touch was gentle, but there was an unmistakable tension in the way he pulled Adam just a bit closer.

Adam blinked, looking up at Lucifer with a mixture of confusion and relief. “I was just... going over it. Alastor said it’s all about the promotion deals for the tavern.”

Alastor chuckled, his voice lilting. “Oh, don’t worry, Lucifer. It’s all perfectly legitimate.”

Lucifer’s smile tightened. “I’m sure it is,” he said sweetly, though his eyes never left the contract. “But you know how these things can be. Sometimes the devil really is in the details.”

Alastor’s grin twitched ever so slightly, a subtle crack in his mask of confidence. “Well, I wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable,” he said, his tone still saccharine, but there was a flicker of something darker beneath it.

Lucifer’s eyes glinted with the challenge. “Of course not.”

Adam, caught between the two demons, couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling building in his chest. He glanced at the contract again, then back at Lucifer, sensing the tension between them. His voice came out quieter than usual.

“Should I... not sign it?”

Lucifer’s grin softened, becoming more affectionate as he leaned in closer. “Oh, love, it’s entirely up to you. Just know that I’m always looking out for your best interests.”

He let his fingers trail down Adam’s arm, a not-so-subtle reminder of the unspoken bond between them. Adam’s cheeks flushed, his heart skipping a beat as he found himself leaning into Lucifer’s touch.

Vaggie sighed deeply, tying her hair up with practiced ease. She clicked her tongue, her sharp gaze flickering between Lucifer and Alastor, who were locked in a silent but palpable battle of wills. If she didn’t step in soon, there’d be more than just bruised egos. The last thing anyone needed was Adam’s heart failing on him the moment he found out his peaceful tavern was now being run by demons. Worse still, discovering his doting boyfriend was none other than the King of Hell, and his so-called best friend? The Princess herself.

Vaggie rolled her shoulders, muttering under her breath, "Only in this madhouse would someone as innocent as Adam get wrapped up in all this mess."

Her mind flashed to her own days as an executioner, a warrior of the heavens. Though she had fallen long ago, those instincts still pulsed within her, and she was more than capable of keeping two alley cats like Lucifer and Alastor from tearing each other apart. As she secured her crimson ribbon, tightening it with a firm tug, she prepared to step in—before things escalated.

Meanwhile, across the room, Husk and Angel Dust had already made themselves comfortable. Angel lounged lazily on a barstool, a mischievous grin curling his lips as his long legs swung back and forth, while Husk nursed a drink, his eyes barely glancing up from the glass.

“Five bucks says Lucifer snaps first,” Angel Dust purred, flicking a manicured claw towards the tension simmering between the two demons. His smile was wide, gleaming with anticipation.

Husk snorted, not bothering to look up. “You kiddin’ me? Alastor’s too smug to back down. He’ll push Lucifer over the edge first.”

He downed another sip, eyes rolling toward the ceiling in exasperation. “That’s when Vaggie steps in and punches both of ‘em in the face.”

Angel giggled, eyes lighting up. “Oh, I’d pay good money to see that.”

Their shared amusement only grew as they entertained their next prediction.

“And what about Charlie?” Angel mused, stretching luxuriously. “You think she accidentally sets something on fire again?”

“Definitely,” Husk replied flatly. “Her hair’ll go up first. It always does.”

The two shared a conspiratorial look, laughing quietly to themselves, but it was Adam's reaction that interested them the most. Angel Dust leaned in closer, lowering his voice as he whispered, "But the real question is... what happens when sweet, innocent Adam finally puts the pieces together? You think he’ll faint, or just run for the hills?”

Husk chuckled darkly. “Faint. No question. Poor guy’s probably gonna keel over the second he finds out his entire tavern staff’s straight outta Hell.”

Angel Dust tossed his head back, laughing as if the very idea thrilled him. “Oh, I can’t wait to see his face.”

Vaggie, overhearing the conversation, shot them both a murderous glare, her fingers twitching as if itching to follow through with Husk’s prediction. She had no time for their bets or casual amusement—she had a fight to stop. With a final glance back at the room, she took a deep breath and made her way over to the two demons, her patience already thin.

Lucifer and Alastor’s verbal sparring continued in hushed tones. Alastor’s grin never faltered, though his eyes gleamed with something far darker.

“My, my, Lucifer,” Alastor purred, his voice saccharine sweet, “You seem terribly protective of this little tavern. Could it be... you’ve actually gone soft?”

Lucifer’s smile, still tight-lipped, didn’t waver, but the sharp glint in his eyes spoke volumes.

“I’m merely protective of what’s mine,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. His tail twitched behind him, the tip flicking like an agitated cat ready to strike. “And as long as you’re in my tavern, Alastor, I suggest you remember that.”

Alastor’s grin only widened; the sharp points of his teeth gleaming.

“Oh, but of course, Your Majesty,” he said, the words dripping with sarcasm.

Adam, standing between them, felt the tension wrap around him like a suffocating blanket. He tried to smile, but it came out shaky, his voice weak. “Uh... maybe we should take a breather? You know, get back to this later?”

Before things could get any worse, Vaggie stepped in with a cold, steely glare that cut through the air.

“Enough,” she said, her voice firm and no-nonsense. “This is Adam’s tavern, not a playground for you two to settle old grudges. So, unless you both want to explain to Charlie why her beloved tavern went up in flames, I suggest you back off.”

Alastor chuckled lightly, bowing slightly to Vaggie. “Ah, always the voice of reason. How refreshing.”

Lucifer shot him a final glare but allowed Vaggie’s words to pull him back from the edge. He forced a smile, turning his attention fully to Adam.

“You’re right, Addie,” he murmured, his voice softening as he wrapped an arm around Adam’s waist. “Let’s take a breather. Forget this nonsense.”

Adam, caught off guard by the sudden shift, blinked, his cheeks warming again as Lucifer’s attention became more intimate. “Uh... yeah, that sounds good.”

Vaggie, satisfied that she’d managed to defuse the situation for now, shot a final warning glance at Alastor. “Don’t push it, out of fashion prick.”

Alastor’s grin widened, his red eyes gleaming with mischief as he tilted his head, amusement lacing his voice. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As Vaggie walked away to keep a closer eye on the situation, Angel Dust and Husk exchanged glances, both grinning.

“Well, no punches yet,” Angel Dust mused, eyes glinting.

“Give it time,” Husk muttered, smirking. “It’s only a matter of time before this place blows up.”

Angel Dust leaned back, folding his arms behind his head as he watched the scene unfold with a satisfied smirk. “Guess we’ll just have to sit back and enjoy the show.”

Adam’s gaze softened as he looked out the window, his mind wandering back to that fateful night when he first met Lucifer. It seemed like a lifetime ago, yet the memory was vivid—Lucifer, drenched in rain, looking so small and fragile, barely reacting to anything. The storm that had raged outside had seemed to mirror the emptiness in Lucifer’s eyes back then. He was reserved, distant, a shadow of the figure now standing beside him.

How strange, Adam mused, how much things had changed. Lucifer was like a completely different person these days—expressive, confident, and affectionate. His golden-red eyes sparkled with emotion, and his laugh, once so rare, had become a melody Adam couldn’t help but treasure.

With a hum, Adam’s attention was drawn back to the windows. Dark storm clouds were beginning to gather on the horizon, rolling in like a slow, inevitable tide. His breath caught in his throat for a moment, the sight stirring a familiar unease in his chest.

“Ah…” he exhaled softly, feeling a small shiver run down his spine. The air felt heavy, laden with the promise of another storm. “Looks like there’s another one brewing.”

Lucifer, standing close by, noticed the shift in Adam’s demeanour. His hand, warm and steady, found its way to Adam’s lower back, grounding him in the moment.

"Storms come and go, Addie," Lucifer murmured softly, his voice a low purr, though something dark flickered briefly behind his eyes. "But don’t worry. I’ll make sure this one doesn’t touch you."

Adam smiled, leaning into Lucifer's warmth, comforted by the reassurance. "I hope it’s not as bad as the last one. That storm was… unforgettable."

He chuckled lightly, though the memory of that rainy night lingered in his mind, the night when everything had begun.

Lucifer’s fingers traced lazy patterns along Adam’s back, but his gaze flickered to the storm clouds outside. His expression shifted, a momentary darkness flashing across his features, one Adam didn’t notice. Lucifer’s thoughts wandered back to that night too, though for very different reasons.

The rain had been his refuge then, a perfect cover for his entrance into Adam’s life. He had been weak, but not in the way Adam had thought. No, Lucifer had been biding his time, slipping into Adam’s world quietly, unnoticed. Now, standing here beside Adam, with the storm on the horizon, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. Adam, so sweet, so oblivious, still had no idea who or what he had let into his tavern—or his heart.

But that suited Lucifer just fine.

The storm outside might have been brewing, but inside the tavern, everything was going according to plan. Lucifer’s fingers lingered at the nape of Adam’s neck; his touch soft but possessive.

"Don’t think about the storm, love," he whispered, leaning in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s ear. "Just focus on me. Let me keep you safe."

Adam, still lost in thought, smiled at Lucifer’s words, his heart fluttering at the affection. He didn’t notice the faint smirk tugging at the corner of Lucifer’s lips, nor the way Lucifer’s eyes darkened as he glanced back at the looming clouds.

The storm might have been approaching, but Lucifer had every intention of ensuring Adam remained blissfully unaware of the chaos it might bring.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #guitarduck #au #fanficiton #for adamsapple fans!#adamsapple month #adamsapple harvest #adamsapple rainy day

29 notes · View notes

abigailxoxo · 11 months ago

Text

fic recommendations part 3: Kai🔥

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154861 -a collection of unrelated one shots where Kai doesn’t do well in the cold!! I love this series a lot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47340898 Nya doesn't understand why Kai won't spar with her. Is he really that protective of her, or is something else wrong? [some sibling angst +comfort featuring Kai’s fear of water]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41464731 “I don’t care about your stupid bear!” Kai yelled.

“No,” Zane cut in softly. He stood up and placed a hand on Kai’s shoulder. “But you do care about Jay. And Jay cares about the bear.” [basically Kai helping the ninja to show he cares for them]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31443812/chapters/77772008-Kai is grieving over the loss of Zane between seasons 3 and 4. His friends and family work to balance out Kai's more extreme traits. But what happens when he is left alone with all the pain and guilt burning inside him? [Or kais very bad way of coping. angsty and a couple Tws in the tags!]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42144636/chapters/105809082 -Kai feels left out from the ninja, and starts to overthink. Suddenly he meets this “buisness” man in the desert, who gives off suspicious vibes, offering to help kai in the future. [CHECK THE TAGS!!! not much interaction with the ninja until towards the end, but a very good plot + end]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39025779 Kai, Nya, and the others are invited to dinner with the smiths soon after Hot. However, neither seemed to the fact that 1) Kai and Nya are now grown people, and 2) they hardly know each other [basically kai getting frustrated with his parents and snapping angst but happy ending :))]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41910219?view_full_work=true -Kai gave himself the task of getting Cole a gift. How hard can it be? [THIS IS SO CUTE AHHH FT COLE X KAI]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32194186/chapters/79773796 Five times Kai provided comfort for the other ninja when they were having a rough time.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48889378 the team scrambles to last minute celebrate Kai's 17th birthday (and get his age wrong) [this is so cute bcuz kai isnt used to his bd being celebrated 🥹💕]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607038 All his life, Kai has had to work for himself to stay alive and keep his little sister alive. Now he's been thrown into a team he doesn't trust. But can he find it in himself to trust others to help him save his sister and himself? [the teams first mission together with chaos and kai almost drowning..]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42952665/chapters/107915217 5 times kai lost his temper and 1 time he didnt

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41946786/chapters/105283755 Kai and Jay are tasked with guarding a mysterious artifact, at the museum.To no one's surprise, things don't go well.

Or: I hit Kai with the ouch stick for a while. [AHHH I LOVE THIS FIC. READ THE TAGS!!]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42456837/chapters/106628268 the three times kai has ever cried in public, and the two times he was comforted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43105782 The solar eclipse will be happening soon. Kai wishes he could share the city's enthusiasm. [basically kai needs more sunlight than a normal human and gets VERY SICK during the eclipse]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47019439 Jay reached out with his hands despite being aware of the futility of the action. He was too far away and Nya wasn’t intending on coming back. That realisation dawned on all of them. Except for one. [Kai cant handle the fact that nya is gone.]

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2986323 LITERALLY A ADORABLE SERIEE OF LAVA ONESHOTS. I ADORE THEM ALL

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48031378/chapters/121106653 hc that kai and cole got drunkley married one night.

they completely forgot about it until a mission gone wrong ended up with cole in the hospital, the doctors wouldn't let them in, ('cos they weren't blood family or some bs reason like that) and kai just lost it and yelled "that's my husband!" (cole x kai)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963463/chapters/73761240 After Kai's life suddenly comes to a fiery end, he makes a deal so he can continue his purpose of protecting his family. He just didn't expect to come back as something so... cute and fluffy..

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40972503?view_full_work=true#main Kai is kidnapped and buried alive, left to die. When acute claustrophobia starts to sink in, it doesn’t go go great. Not even after the others rescue him.

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/11732480/1/Breaking-the-Ice kai falls through thin ice on there first mission when they dont get along very well

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12959261/1/ 5 times kai hid a injury and one time where he didnt succeed

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12768259/1/ 5 times kai lost his temper and one time the ninja lost theres (ft Kai’s fear of water in last chapter)

https://www.tumblr.com/scrambledfluffmuffins/704010233406701568/spice-and-everything-nice Kai, in both a show of brotherly love and brotherly pride, attempts to outdo his siblings in a test of all things spice and chocolate.

https://www.tumblr.com/lloydskywalkers/187747637775/flickerA story about Kai and the warmth he brings to himself and others (in cuddles)

https://www.tumblr.com/scrambledfluffmuffins/659455541321596928/from-what-it-was

Kai reflects on all the changes in the team post-s7 (mostly abt there hair)

lmk if any of the links dont work, i was kinda rushed making this lol. so this isnt all of the fics i have saved, but some!! (guess who my fav character is challenge)

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #ninjago headcanons #kai ninjago #kai smith angst #kai x cole

111 notes · View notes

theteasetwrites · 1 year ago

Text

Begin Again

Chapter 2: Ami ou Ennemi?

❧ Media: The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, scary situation ❧ Word Count: 4.8k

❧ In This Chapter: On the road west, things take a turn when the first people you and Daryl come into contact with in France turn out to be a bit less welcoming than you'd hoped they would be. Meanwhile, a watchful pair of eyes just might be what saves you.

❧ A/N: Okay so this was going to cover the whole rest of the first episode but I didn't want to cram it all into one giant chapter, so here's a smaller (kinda boring tbh) chapter! This chapter is necessary because it leads up to the kick-off of the storyline in Chapter 3, which I promise will be MUCH more interesting (and have way better Reader x Daryl interactions, of course). But for now, please enjoy this chapter! I am having so much fun writing for the spin-off ahhh

Carried by a limp and an aimless hope still lingering in your heart, you walked.

In fact, you walked for days. About five total, you were sure. Well, you couldn’t be too sure. Everything was a blur, and you’d given up keeping track with the tally marks you’d scribbled on the edge of the map. All you could bother to rely on now was the natural movement of the earth, the sun rising on one shoulder, setting on the other. Then a few hours of sleepless sleep, then walking again, through what seemed to be a once sparsely populated countryside, amongst a collage of ancient ruins.

From your navigation, you’d determined that the snow-capped mountains you walked just at the base of were those of the Pyrenees. For miles you walked along those foothills of thick green shrubbery and ever-expanding stretches of woods, through which a wide gravel road snaked and occasionally branched into small hamlets or mysterious medieval ruins you didn’t care too much to research.

As your eyes squinted hard at the map you’d come to loathe the now taunting familiarity of, you felt your steps slow to a halt, crushing the ancient gravel underneath you with a dying enthusiasm. Daryl followed behind you, himself preoccupied as well, but by the wound on his arm, which had been festering for almost two days now.

You’d been tending to it, of course. Daryl could’ve done so himself, but you hardly trusted him to be as diligent with the care of his own injuries as you were.

The good news seemed to be that the burn did not inflict a fever upon him, or have any other kind of deadly effect. Still, as Daryl put so eloquently, “It hurts like a son of a bitch.”

You turned around, approaching him as he studied the burn, in the distinctive shape of a handprint. Taking his arm in your hand, you frowned at the festering wound, still a little too raw for your liking.

It seemed to be healing a little, though, with only slight accumulations of yellowish fluid around the parts where flesh had been burnt. That was good. It meant the wound was draining properly, exuding serous liquid that would help the flesh to heal and eventually scar over. But the inflammation, the redness, worried you.

“It’s not purulent,” you said. “So that’s good.”

Daryl looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t have to speak to convey his confusion at the SAT vocabulary word.

“There’s no pus,” you clarified. “No green drainage… But we should cover it up again.”

Nearby, you settled by an abandoned car, mangled and ravaged by time. It was a good cover for the moment as you sifted through a first aid bag you’d scavenged yesterday. Thank God you had, otherwise his arm might’ve looked much worse than it had.

As he knelt beside you, you set out a roll of gauze, then uncapped your canteen of water. Daryl couldn’t complain too much about you using the water to wash his wound now, considering how much it was beginning to burn.

The sting was worse than yesterday as you poured the cool liquid over it. You yourself winced at the sound of Daryl’s hiss, knowing full well that his tolerance for pain was much higher than anyone you knew, so that burn must’ve been agonizing.

Spinning the gauze around his arm, you wrapped the burn tight. He sighed softly in temporary relief, but he could already feel the festering begin to return.

The back of your hand situated itself against his forehead, brushing back the loose hairs as you did so.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. He was warm. Daryl always ran a little warm, of course. You’d often referred to him as a human heater. But this was off for Daryl, warmer than you were used to feeling.

It terrified you.

The thought that this burn could be akin to a bite was one which haunted you the last two nights, keeping you ten times more aware of Daryl’s state at all times.

You’d seen plenty of people in the process of turning. You’d known the signs. It was hard to tell now. Daryl didn’t have enough of a fever to render him fatigued, but it was enough to worry you.

“How do you feel?” you asked, still brushing back the hairs that framed his face, as if fixing his hair could somehow improve his condition.

“Like shit.” He took a sip of water from your canteen. A small sip, of course, lest he leave you without enough water to keep you moving.

“You just need some rest,” you said, watching as he began to lift himself to his feet, with half his body weight supported by the spear that had served largely as his walking stick.

Clearly, he wasn’t going to be resting anytime soon.

“I’ll rest when the sun goes down,” he replied gruffly, while a gust of wind began to blow his hair in wild patterns across his face. You rose up, too, despite your body’s inescapable urge to sleep right there on the gravel. “We still got a few hours of sunlight… Best to keep movin’.”

With a strained grunt, he reached for his spear, pressing it into the dirt below as he started to lift himself, using the spear as leverage.

The day Daryl would listen to you when you asked him to rest was the day Hell would freeze over, but you couldn’t fight him. After all, you weren’t itching to stay put in any one place for too long. You had to keep moving, to try to find some kind of way back home.

You raised yourself to your feet alongside him, reaching into your backpack to tuck the gauze and your canteen back inside. But there was a slight tremble in your hand, and a racing of your heart as your body reacted to the intense burn of a distant stare before your mind even could.

Daryl felt it, too.

Practically in sync, both of you turned to face the direction of the stare. There was a cliff just ahead, surrounded by lush shrubbery. The distance was great enough to ease your paranoia, but still too close for comfort.

There was a figure atop the cliff, looking down. Well, you supposed so, despite not being able to make out the figure’s face. What you could see was a reddish cowl encircling their head, but the rest was simply the shape of a human, standing still, watching.

It sent a shiver down your spine, the inescapable fear of being watched suddenly taking hold over you. It was something you’d known since childhood, with frequent nightmares of a decrepit elderly man cupping his hands as he looked in through the window of your childhood bedroom, smiling wide at you. Despite your dream self’s attempts to escape, you couldn’t move, you could only cry as the man stared at you, watching you.

But of course, that man was only a figment of your imagination, a childhood fear that stuck with you all through your life. You hadn’t thought of that man in years, but now, feeling the eyes of a stranger on you, you felt it again. Only this was real. Well, perhaps it was a mirage, induced by the emptiness in your stomach and the fog in your head, but it did not matter. There was nothing you could do. Maybe that was what was so frightening about it.

“C’mon.” Daryl’s hand brushed your forearm, dislodging you from that momentary stupor. Fortunately, he seemed much less perturbed by the mysterious apparition, though he couldn’t deny the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Keep movin’.”

So you did, following behind him by just a few steps, until he stopped abruptly shortly after, examining the road sign standing before him. On its pole, a small piece of paper was plastered to it, with handmade strokes of black paint spelling out three words: DIEU VOUS AIME.

Your curiosity piqued, you quickly shrugged off one strap of your backpack, reaching back to unzip the largest pouch and grab the French-English dictionary you’d so wisely picked up back at the boat in Marseille.

Looking between the pages and the sign, you flipped through the book, until the phrase appeared among the list of D’s.

Daryl looked at you in waiting as you let out a slightly amused huff.

“God loves you,” you said.

“Pfft.”

An hour or so down the road, and the eerie light of the dying afternoon had begun its domain.

Sleep was the new objective, somewhere to hang your hats for the night that would soon be upon you.

Just ahead, beyond a desolate field of tall, green grass, was a lone building, decrepit and overgrown, with a thick, swirling layer of fog rolling over the ground at its base. Not particularly inviting, but it could be a good place for shelter.

The place was dilapidated, to the point where you could hardly tell what it had once been, but there was just enough shelter to provide some protection from the elements, and the dead. It looked as though there had once been a fire, as the walls were blackened and opened up into a courtyard through a section of destroyed wall.

As you stepped carefully, quietly, over fallen beams and overgrown twining vines, you set sight on a string tied between a bush and the wall, stretching across the walkway with rusty tin cans tied to the twine. Either someone had once called this place home, or someone still did.

Stepping over the trap, Daryl went first, with you following shortly behind, alertness as high as it possibly could be given the famished state you were in.

A rustling from your right startled you. Daryl moved somewhat quickly to peer around the edge of the wall into the open courtyard—a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, standing by an overgrown well and pouring the water from the bucket into a tin pail.

Daryl didn’t get a very detailed look at the woman nor the area, but he could tell that he didn’t want anything to do with it.

You weren’t so sure, however. People were exactly who you needed. You wouldn’t be able to get home without people, and maybe this woman knew English. She could help you, somehow.

But Daryl backed up, too fast for you to notice that he was about to activate the tripwire just behind him.

As the cans rattled together, making a loud clanging sound, you almost felt a bit of relief.

Looking back towards the woman, you began to step forward, ahead of Daryl, who followed rather reluctantly.

Unsure of what to say as you met the woman’s gaze, coming further into the pale light of the diminishing day, you raised your hands up in a gesture of peace which you hoped was universal. Daryl followed suit, moving close behind you, despite his instinctual urge to stand in front of you. It took a great deal of willpower not to, but he figured you were possibly more friendly looking than him, with the huge spear he used as a walking stick.

“Bonjour,” was the only word you could make out, the rest was a blur of very beautiful-sounding gibberish. From an archway leading further into the building behind the woman came an elderly man hobbling in on a cane. So far, the first two French people you’d met turned out to be rather unintimidating, which was a good sign.

The two of you kept moving forward, perhaps more out of confusion than curiosity, but a part of you just wanted some semblance of human interaction. As much as you loved Daryl and his company, it was a sight for sore eyes to come face-to-face with another woman, even if you couldn’t understand anything she said.

But she seemed friendly enough, raising her hand in a wave as she carried the pail across the way, coming closer, but never too close. Finally, she spoke another word you could understand: “Madame? Monsieur?”

You turned to look at Daryl, whose face looked confounded, bordering on worried.

As per usual, you’d have to be the more sociable one.

“I’m sorry,” you began speaking, despite your fear that speaking in English might be a waste of breath. “We don’t understand you.”

On the contrary, the woman seemed… excited.

“Ay!” she exclaimed, the old man now right behind her as they slowly but surely moved closer. “You Americans? And I speak English very good!” Her mouth formed into a wide smile. So far, so good. “What’s crackin’, noobs?”

Despite your slight confusion at her use of the colloquial term, one you had not heard since you were in college, you smiled back, nodding.

The woman spoke another French term, and waved her hand, gesturing for you to come closer. You did so, despite Daryl’s hesitation as he looked at you. He didn’t have to speak or even sign to indicate what he thought: I don’t trust them.

But it didn’t matter whether either of you trusted them or not. They had food. They must’ve, as they looked to be pretty settled here, at least for the night.

He followed your lead, stepping faster to match your pace as you moved closer, further into the courtyard.

“My, uh… grandfather, he hurt the ankle” the woman spoke again, carrying her pail of water to a gently roaring fire. Around it were a few bags and crates used as seats. A modest setup, but comforting nonetheless. “Only… Only small English, him.” She gestured towards her grandfather, whose eyes were covered by a black cloth wrapped around his head. Still, he waved in your general direction, then started to speak.

“Hello,” he said.

You smiled, your heart beginning to soften at the sight of the poor elderly man. You always did have a soft spot for older people, one which Daryl feared would make you a little too eager to spare your medical supplies.

“Hello,” you spoke back.

Daryl said nothing.

The woman’s face turned more serious now. “You got medical?” You did not answer, unsure of what to say. While you did have it, you weren’t so sure you’d give it away on a whim. You already had one old man to take care of—Daryl. “We trade you for apple or, um, uh… a rabbit, maybe.”

“Very good rabbit,” chimed in the old man.

Daryl heard rabbit, and suddenly he was walking past you, coming closer to the woman as he slung his backpack off his shoulders.

The man was always food-motivated, afterall.

Setting his pack on the ground, he kneeled as he rummaged for the first aid kit. For a moment, he held it up, then tossed it underhand towards the woman.

“Merci,” said the old man.

“Merci,” the woman repeated, the first aid kit now in her hands. She pointed towards a wooden crate just a few yards away. “Food there.”

Daryl did not hesitate, hurriedly crossing over to the crate as if the offer would be taken away at any second. You followed suit, coming up behind him and taking the handful of shiny, red apples that he held out to you, while he himself bit into one and chewed it hungrily.

“So,” the woman continued, but for a moment, you couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own chewing as you bit into an apple. “Where are you going to?”

This time, Daryl answered before you even had a chance to speak. The fact that they had given you food must’ve warmed him up a little bit.

“Back where we came from,” he said matter-of-factly, looking up at the woman to address her, then returning to gathering as many apples in his hands as he could.

“Across the ocean?” questioned the woman again.

“Yeah,” Daryl answered.

As he stood up, you both looked curiously at the woman, who spoke something to the old man in their native language. They appeared to be laughing, too. You wondered, in that self-conscious way the two of you shared, if they were making fun of you. Not that it mattered terribly, since the idea of someone making fun of you was nothing compared to what most people in this world would do without any hesitation. If subtle ridiculing was the worst of what you got out of these people, you’d consider yourselves lucky.

With a huff, the woman sat herself down on an upside down crate, whilst holding the skewered rabbit that had been roasting over the fire. Your mouth practically watered at the sight, which must’ve meant you were truly on the verge of starving. It took a lot for you to want to eat a rabbit.

“I’m Maribelle,” she said with a smile. Next, she pointed to her grandfather. “Um, he Guillaume. So maybe we go together, you know?”

That piqued your interest, but Daryl moved behind you, taking the apples to his pack and almost hurriedly stuffing them inside.

“Get somewhere safe, maybe?” Maribelle continued, and you wanted so much to say something, to say yes. Anything would help. Of course, you knew you couldn’t trust these people, and something about them, despite their friendliness, threw you off. Daryl must’ve felt it, too, because almost as soon as he settled in, he was ready to get out of there. “You can help us. We can help you find a way.”

Following Daryl, you knelt down beside him as he packed. You couldn’t speak much above a very hushed whisper. “They can help us get back.”

He looked up at you momentarily, a stern look in his eye. “No.”

“Hey, yankees.” Suddenly, Guillaume spoke up. You both looked his way.

Guillaume spoke more, but only in French. You turned your attention back to Maribelle, your eyes begging for translation.

She spoke with a slight laugh. “All the time he talk about World War II.”

“La résistance,” Guillaume continued, like the ramblings of your grandfather. In fact, you recalled his stories from that war, how young he was when he was stationed in England. Not quite France, but close enough. “U.S. GI’s fight together. Your country, my country. Like friends.”

Daryl did not say anything, only turned his attention back to packing his bag. You stood up slowly, managing a smile. You weren’t sure if the man could see it, but you wanted to somehow convey to him that you appreciated his ideology. Afterall, you needed friends.

But you couldn’t think of what to say. You knew Daryl was not going to budge, and it wasn’t your place to accept his offer of friendship. All you could do was think of something nice to say, but before you could, Guillaume spoke again, catching onto the silence that lingered for several moments.

“You are no friend,” he said, a tinge of vitriol in his voice.

“There ain’t no countries no more, neither,” Daryl replied.

You huffed, frustrated by his coldness. It wasn’t your favorite side of Daryl, his harshness, but you couldn’t entirely blame him—he was stressed, injured, and sad. You could tell, despite him never letting it really show. He held emotions inside, whereas you wore them on your sleeve. Still, you knew him better than anyone else, and you knew that this situation you found yourselves in was taking a greater toll on him than even he realized. You hadn’t pressed him about it much, but you knew: he missed your babies.

He missed home. He missed your friends. He missed the life he’d devoted himself to creating with you. Ultimately, he was tired.

Before you could try to talk some sense into him, though, you heard something that startled you: a distant roaring of an engine, coming closer. Fast.

Daryl stood up quickly as a rather militaristic looking jeep came through the wide archway into the courtyard. Two men were sitting in the front seat of the uncovered vehicle, both armed with guns.

Upon the hood of the vehicle was some kind of symbol painted in white that you couldn’t quite make out without taking your eyes off the two men as they stepped out, their guns seemingly locked and loaded.

Daryl kept a firm grip on his spear, you on your knife. Still, there wasn’t much you could do against a gun, especially in this open area.

As the men came forward, you took note of their appearance: each were heavily armed and wore camouflage patterns. They looked like some sort of paramilitary group, and from your history with such groups, you were not looking to make friends.

One of the men set his sights on you and Daryl, while saying something in French. All you could do was stare back at him, until he raised his gun, speaking again. This time, he spoke more commandingly.

Your heart dropped for a moment, but Maribelle spoke quickly to the man, then turned to face you both. She held her hands up, as if in surrender.

“Sit down, he said,” she said to you seriously.

Daryl exchanged a quick look with you, somewhere between reassurance and a warning of cautiousness. In situations like this, perhaps you fell into that old trap of taking the man’s lead, but Daryl had had a gun pointed at him many more times than you had, and it was true that he looked much more threatening than you, so you followed his lead, walking several steps with him over to the crates around the fire that were being used as seats. If you were going to sit down for two French assholes with guns, you were at least going to be a little bit comfortable.

Now sitting, each of you dropped your weapons, slowly raising your hands to match Maribelle. The two men seemed to trust you both much less than they did Maribelle and Guillaume, as both their guns were pointed towards you—one of you, one on Daryl. It was not quite reassuring.

One of the men began to speak to Maribelle again, going back and forth for a moment. The only word you could make out was American, which you weren’t sure was a good thing, given the way the man looked at you both suspiciously.

No, you did not like these guys one bit.

And now, after a few more rather ominous sounding words in French, he came forward, taking Maribelle by the shoulder and tugging on her jacket, pulling her away to God knows where. Though you couldn’t understand what he had said, you feared for Maribelle, knowing the kinds of things men could do, especially to women… It boiled your blood, especially as she tried to get away, yelling something at him in French and struggling against him.

The other man, meanwhile, kept his sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun pointed at Daryl, but he looked away, his eyes focused on the scene as the other man struggled to drag Maribelle away. When he became frustrated with her reluctance, he backhanded her hard, the force causing her to fall down with a thud.

And, with one look exchanged between you and Daryl, you knew it was time to do something… So much for making friends.

Daryl moved first, reaching for the knife he kept strapped to his leg and standing up to grab his spear with the other hand. He moved faster than you, and faster than the man who was supposed to be keeping an eye on you.

He used the blunt edge of his spear to first hit the man’s leg, then, as he raised his gun to defend himself, Daryl disarmed him, then dropped his spear to raise his knife and puncture his neck.

You stood up, too, sprinting towards the gun that had been dropped on the ground, while Daryl held the dying man in front of him like a meat shield. If there was one thing about Daryl, it was that he was resourceful.

But just before you could get your hands on the shotgun, the other man came towards you both, shouting in French as he held his gun out. In a matter of seconds, he fired, shooting towards Daryl.

The loud gunshot made you flinch and grab your ears as you instinctively flung yourself onto the ground, trying to dodge it. Immediately, though, you looked up, your sights setting on Daryl, himself on the ground, holding the left side of his neck and sticking out his right hand in surrender. The man did not seem so eager to show mercy, leaning down beside you to pick up the shotgun and point it towards Daryl.

“No!” you cried out rather helplessly, crawling on hands and knees to Daryl’s side. If you couldn’t sacrifice yourself for him, you’d die together. At least you’d die knowing you tried to save him.

But Maribelle moved quicker, striking the man in the back with Guillaume’s cane. The blow was so hard that he fell to the ground, allowing Daryl to quickly stand up and grab the shotgun. As he held his bleeding neck, he pointed the barrel towards the fallen man.

“Stop,” said Maribelle, coming forward with a spear. “Save the powder.” She plunged the spear into the man’s chest, causing you to wince in slight surprise.

Maribelle turned to Daryl, uttering a simple, “Merci.”

Quickly, you stood up, coming over to daryl and removing his hand from his neck to get a look at the damage. Obviously, the bullet must’ve only grazed him, because if the bullet had gone just a bit more to the right, he might not even have a head right now.

“Just a superficial graze,” you said, taking off your glove and pressing it to his face as a bandage, but of course you’d need something more suitable.

As you carefully helped him sit down on his knees, you called out to Maribelle, “Can you hand me the medical bag, please?”

All your attention, now, was on him, so much so that you didn’t notice how suspiciously silent it was, and how the two Frenchpeople did not seem eager to help.

But that was all peripheral to you, as you brushed back Daryl’s long hair to get a better look at the injury.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you said, with just a tiny curl of your lip to offer him some comfort.

And it did, his tired eyes softening as he felt your hand caress his cheek. Despite the stinging pain and the feeling of blood seeping into the glove you held tight against his wound, he couldn’t help but believe you. If there was anything in this world he truly believed in, after all, it was you.

But there was a horrible sense of suspicion growing between you, a lingering threat that became more and more apparent with each step the man behind Daryl took.

You raised your eyes, and Daryl turned to look at whatever had caught your attention—Guillaume.

His eyes were uncovered now, and beady with aggressive intent. But most startlingly, he held his wooden cane much too high for your comfort. He wielded it more like a baseball bat than a walking stick.

But he wouldn’t do what you thought he was going to do, would he?

Yes. He would.

The cane struck Daryl across the head, knocking him to the ground. Eyes wide as you started to lift yourself, you were met with the same fate: a strong hit to the head that sent you back down, reeling in pain.

You weren’t unconscious, though. Neither was Daryl, who opened his eyes despite the intense blurring that obstructed his vision. He caught sight of Guillaume, rummaging through his bag, while Maribelle got to work rifling through yours, throwing out its contents with carelessness as she seemed to be searching for something more useful than the maps and blankets you’d collected along the way from Marseille.

Notably, though, you watched the blonde Barbie doll you’d carefully tucked away in your bag get tossed behind her back like a worthless piece of junk. It almost riled you into a fit of sudden strength, but your head swam too much to allow your legs to carry you.

Your eyes became fixed on that doll, left abandoned amongst overgrown blades of faded green grass. Somewhere in your haze, as unconsciousness threatened to take over, was her voice, speaking the words she said to you before you left: “It’s okay, Mommy,” she said, her small voice echoing in the dizzied cavern of your head.

Just then, you felt a presence coming towards you, one which seemed both known and unknown.

Turning your head, your heavy eyes focused as well as they could on the approaching figure, cautiously side-stepping into the courtyard. Though you could not make out their face, you recognized one thing: a red cowl.

“We’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

A gunshot rang out, muffled by your fading consciousness. It had come from the approaching figure, and had seemingly run off Maribelle and Guillaume, which may have been either a good thing, or a bad thing.

“Maybe when you get back, Wes will know some more words.”

Your eyelids became immensely burdensome, and with each blink, you found yourself unable to keep them open for much longer.

“Yes… Robin…”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

#begin again series #begin again #the walking dead #the walking dead: daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon spin-off #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead: daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

157 notes · View notes