#Ahhh the mystery of water

[maxladcomics]

I finished my research run and I'm left more confused

These 3 give the same 52 EXP and 25 gold

They were all used in the design of Lemon Bread. Obviously Woshua wasn't used in the final version unless we consider technicalities.

However: The other monsters used in other Amalgamates don't have this.

EXP, gold or stats, are all different.

[mind-of-a-crow]

Look at this cat in a random ad I got earlier

[hunterwritings]

could you pretty please do one ab miguel with the reader being like the complete polar opposite of him?? i'm practically frothing at the mouth for this 🙏🏻🙏🏻‼️‼️

THIS IS EXACTLY HOW MY OC ACTS AHHH i love this concept // sorry i kinda made it more of headcanons than an actual fic, i hope that's okay!

miguel with a sunshine s/o

summary: miguel with the someone the polar opposite of him warnings: none

you were practically everything that Miguel wasn't in terms of personality

you were bubbly and happy all the time, while he was dark and mysterious. It was almost like a perfect balance between the two of you

when you first met, Miguel knew that you'd be a pain in the ass to him. Someone who was trying to be optimistic and look at the brighter side of everything? He could never deal with it.

You'd bring him food & coffee everyday, to which he'd complain about but then get upset when you'd jokingly take it away

"I brought you coffee and a pastry treat!" You happily walked over to him with a cup and bag in your hands.

"Don't you know how bad that food is for you?" He asks, not moving his eyes from the screen in front of him.

"Fine then, I'll go give it to someone else." You say as you begin to turn around but see a glowing, red web attach to your side and pull you around in a circle back to Miguel.

"No, these are mine." He says, grabbing the coffee and bag, his expression not changing in the slightest.

"I knew you liked them!" You laugh in victory.

You always try and get Miguel to take care of himself; you see how hard he overworks himself (you honestly believe he does it on purpose) and you try to get him to take breaks every now and then and keep reminding him to eat and drink water.

He acts like he's annoyed, but in reality, he's probably gotten so much better with you around.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't wait for you to walk into his space every morning and greet him with a large smile across your face.

Miguel realized how he felt about you when you didn't show up to greet him one morning. You were 10 minutes late to seeing him and he started tapping his toes in eagerness.

"Lyla, have you tracked the location on (Y/N)?" Miguel asked, holding his hands on his hips.

"Y'know, I get the whole idea of knowing where everyone is at all times is pleasing to you, but even I think it's a bit weird to be spying on people like that." Lyla joked as she stared at her nails.

"It's not spying; (Y/N) is late." Miguel says.

"Oh! (Y/N)? As in, the (Y/N) that you seem to find 'unbearable' and 'hard to work with'? You worried about them?" She laughs as she glitches closer to his shoulder.

"They aren't usually late." He tries to justify himself but Lyla won't give up.

"Oh yeah sure, I'm sure you think about that to everyone else who's late to your nonexistent meeting." She smirks as Miguel scowls at her.

Then, you swing your way into the room, causing both Miguel and Lyla to turn their heads towards you.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it, Have fun living in denial, buddy!" Lyla says before saluting him and disappearing.

Miguel let that memory sit in his thoughts for a while. Was he really that worried over 10 minutes? Realization finally hit him and it crushed him. He tried his best to avoid you, in hopes that he would never hurt you or snap at you for any reason and didn't want to ruin anything like he did before.

Over time, he couldn't resist your bubbly charm and fell harder for you. He shifted his feelings and showed a softer side of himself to you, one that accepts all of your sunshine and happiness and cherishes it more than anything. This side of him is for your eyes only, no one else gets to see that softer side of Miguel O'Hara.

[dark-frosted-heart]

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.

[innerthighfest]

A Normal Night In

After a late class and a long commute home, I finally reach the steps of my complex. Looking up at the landing one flight up, I gulp. Without looking down, I feel for the base of my massively pregnant belly. 

I had gone abroad for a semester and during my last week there I had a one night stand that resulted in me getting pregnant. Now, at just over 43 weeks, I shift my weight side to side up each step. "Ooohh..." I quietly moan, the underside of my pregnant belly needing as much support as it can get as I climb the stairs.

Once at the top I know it's not yet the end. So far the babies in my belly haven't been too disturbed, movement is felt but there is some hope I can at least make it to my door without stopping for a contraction.

Waddling down the hall, I press my now free hand against my back, forcing my belly forward and blocking most of my view of the floor. 

With a little satisfaction of making it through the day and finally into my apartment, I reward myself with a shower. The warm water relaxes my muscles as I close my eyes and let the water run over my expectant body. I rub a creamy soap lather all over naked belly.

When I used to brush my teeth I would stand with my face nearly cheek to the mirror, now I stand brushing a couple feet away, my abdomen swollen and protruding out, grazing the cold sink ahead of me. My shower steamed hands warming the lotion I smooth over my pregnant swell.

I throw on whatever clothes I can find, a white T-shirt that clings tight to my body, belly hanging out from the bottom, and the comfiest sweatpants I can manage to pull up. 

I walk past a wide full length mirror as I exit my bedroom. My belly full of babies is huge and incredibly round. Over 9 months pregnant I stand there, admiring my belly in the reflection. It's surreal. I'm a bit turned on. 

I relocate to the couch, a futon with no side arms. I use both hands to lower myself safely onto the cushions, a process that can only compare to an entire upper body workout. I adjust, my T-shirt slides up a bit higher revealing my sizeable baby belly more, still in view of my mirror, I take myself in. 

*Sigh*, I feel so relaxed. Being this pregnant is no easy feat, it's almost as if the mysterious man who impregnated me wasn't human at all given the sheer size of the babies making my belly throb. In a masochist way I enjoy the physical struggle of being this bred.

A couple hours pass and I start to get sleepy, but the babies inside me had other ideas. I aimlessly flip through channels in an attempt to distract myself, one hand on the remote, the other nursing a sore spot on my belly from a strong kick. 

"Hsssss ahh...ooouu, settle down..." I say softly, adjusting my small frame under the weight of my heavy, overdue belly, both hands now soothing the dull ache. "Haaaa...ohh... Ooo okay, okay, hooo..." I winch at the sharp pains low in my womb, the hand cradling the base of my huge belly moves instinctively in circles to soften the pain while the other supports my delicate body against the couch. My thin eyeglasses fogging slightly from the heat I am feeling.

I can almost swear I am seeing myself getting bigger. The television program partly obstructed behind my fullness as I feel a contraction rip through me. Arching my back forward I trail my hands down from my ribs to my groin. "Haa, haa, ooo, calm down." I mutter, breathless as my abdomen tightens.

I pull my sweats down, the waistband irritating the underside of my swollen midsection. My shirt rides up once more. "Ahhh...hsss" I throw my head back, the pressure in my cervix is dull and unbearable and yet I am aroused more and more with every orbit my hand completes around my swollen belly. 

This contraction is far from over, but during a lull in the pain I manage to engage the trigger on the futon, swiftly flattening it out into a bed. Adjusting, I spread my legs and lean forward, my weight on my calves and knees. Returning upright I begin to rub in large, slow circles.

I pant longingly to please myself through this contraction as I stare at myself lustfully, but I can barely get a solid grip on my throbbing, hard shaft. I begin swaying my hips back and forth against a strategically placed pillow. My arousal grows, my baby belly expanding with each deep breath in. "Hsss" my hands circle once more, "ooooo" "oh, oh wow, oooooooooo!" I groan as the contraction gets stronger, watching the skin on my belly twitch and tighten in the bedroom mirror as I sway, making me that much harder. The glow of the TV illuminating the lotion on my heavily pregnant belly making it look that much bigger in the mirror's reflection. 

Rocking my lower body in pleasure as much as I can, I feel nothing but a sore, dull ache from deep within, making me feel sick with pain. "Haaaa oooh, fuck!" it almost feels like my water is going to break. "oh oooohhh mmmmmm...okay...okay..." but it never does. I press hard against my sides then trail my hands down the under-curve of my belly. "Ha Haa, ooooooo...oh wow, wow, hssss..." my whole body cried to start pushing, my back about to snap in two from arching so far backwards, trying my best to lovingly soothe my aching pregnant belly as the wave of pain finally washes away.

 It's almost as if the babies inside me don't want to come out, my already heavily pregnant belly will continue to grow and I won't fully reach orgasm until I finally give birth. I am being teased. What did I do to deserve such a lasting reward from a one night stand? I think to myself as I manage to get to my feet, exhausted, yearning for sleep.

Making my way closer to the lengthy mirror I am impressed by the sheer size of myself, all babies within still moving subtly under my skins surface. I turn to the side to close my door and notice that i have indeed become more pregnant than before. Maybe those werent contractions at all, but rather growing pains. I may get to enjoy this for a while longer, but I can feel the end is near as I notice my heavy baby belly has dropped ever so slightly. I get cozied in bed, my hardness never subsiding as I stroke my continuously maturing belly goodnight.

Just another normal night in.

[cryptcutiee]

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.

[anemptypuddingcup]

Sweeter than sugar.

Vampire Luffy x Female Reader.

A two part series with Vampire Luffy.

Y’all I am so sorry. I had sidetracked myself with the Sanji series and decided to come to Luffy next. Don’t fight me please-

Part 1 Part 2

Contains: Vampire!Luffy. Luffy hungry for blood. Reader happens to roam into his mansion without knowing it’s his. Luffy allowing Reader to stay in exchange for blood. A segment of storyline before we get in to smut.

“Hahhh…So hungryyy…”

Luffy groans heavily as he stares out through the tinted mansion window, the sound of rain nearly putting him to sleep as he listened intently. The clouds blanketed the sky with a slight darkness, covering the his mansion along with his land alike. It was a shame he couldn’t go out. Even if it wasn’t the sea, the water still drained him if his energy, especially at a time like this.

A heavy huff leaves his lips while his stomach rumbles with ferocity, his long thin tongue tracing across his dry cracked lips as he yearned for some fresh sweet blood. Not blood from animals but from humans. He was getting a little sick of thick consistency of animal blood, not to mention it was harmful to the animals themselves. It was all based on survival, but at the same time Luffy was picky with this matter.

He hoped that Chopper or Sanji would at least return soon, it would’ve been a better alternative to ask for blood packs instead of hunting for animal blood. It would’ve been more convenient and it could’ve saved up a lot more time, though knowing Luffy he wasn’t thinking about it not one bit.

A bit of drool trickles from his lips and down to his chin as he thought of slurping up the blood of a wonderful human. The consistency and the flavor, he couldn’t help but to be picky with a thing such as this. If only he enjoyed eating food more.

“Ahhh…I hope th’rain brings in somebodyy, how long will I hafta wait..?” He sighs before he wipes the drool from chin and lips. He lets out a little groan as he lifts himself up from his chair and walks over to his window, his cloak flowing slightly in the air as he stood. He stares as the little droplets fell down with slight intensity, the sound of the rain washing a sudden sadness over him and his body. He felt a bit lonely if not hungry.

His eyes scans down his yard, sliding past a little shadow within the thick moist air before he turns away.

“Wait-“

The sudden realization made him backtrack to his window and he peers out again. He squints his eyes before they widen with excitement, a thankful little gasp leaving his throat as he stares at the shadow.

He presses his hands and face against the glass before smiling widely, thanking every god for answering his prayers. It was a human, a fresh source of blood that he’d been begging for all this time. His eyes glimmer with delight and more drool spills past his lips before he finally snaps back to his senses.

He shakes his head and looks back in the same direction of the mysterious figure, only to see that it disappeared from his sight.

He jolts as he suddenly hears his front mansion door creak open, his heart beating from his chest as he realized that his meal had entered his vicinity.

Sliding his tongue along his lips, he slowly walks out of his main room and into the long corridor, his feet trailing along the long red rug.

***

You slowly slide yourself through the large mansion door and quickly shut it behind you, your teeth chattering from the cold temperature of the rain against your skin. Your eyes darts around as you gripped your arms tightly, desperately trying to keep yourself warm after being exposed to such cold weather.

You were surprised that the mansion was clean and pretty on the inside, it didn’t look much like its dilapidated stone exterior outside the doors. You slowly trail through the mansion while your soaked clothing left a trail of water to follow. You huff heavily as you trembled from the cold air hitting your damp skin, looking around for at least some source of heat to keep you warm.

As your wet and damp footsteps echoes through the empty mansion, the sound of a different set of footsteps makes you freeze suddenly.

“Oi…”

The ominous sound of a young man calls out to you down the corridor and you quickly turn around to see him standing on the other end. You felt your heart beginning to pound as a sudden rush of adrenaline sends you back, pulling you away from the figure of whoever it was. Your legs move on their own and you run, a bit afraid that you’ve entered someplace you weren’t supposed to.

A sudden flash of his presence makes you pause before you feel your back press against someone’s chest. You don’t dare turn around as you felt the heaving of the person’s chest rise and fall up against your back. A hand to your shoulder makes you jolt as a few tears brim at your eyes. Your brows furrowed as you shut your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for whatever may happen next.

“What’re ya doin’ ‘side f’my place? Are ya lost?”

You feel his warm breath fall against your neck before you felt his slimy thin tongue trail up your skin. He groans heavily at the saltiness of your skin, fighting back the strong urge to just bite and gnaw at your neck right then and there. All color falls from your face as you felt his tongue slowly slide against your skin.

You let out a little mewl before biting your bottom lip tightly, pursing and clamming up your noise. He removes his tongue and giggles and you shiver as you felt the chill on your neck where his saliva lingered. “Ya gonna answer me? Ya shy or sum’?” He asks, his head cocking to the side as he stares at you with his jet black pupils.

You exhale shakily and you tremble against him, the sound of your heart pounding beginning to echo throughout your head. “I-I’m so s-sorry i-if I’m trespassing…I-I need shelter..” You sigh out heavily as you begin to feel lightheaded.

You hear him giggle before he grips your chin and turns your head to face him. A slight blush dusts your cheeks as you admire his features while his eyes glazes your body from head to toe. It seems that he’d gain a slight attraction to what he’d seen, and you probably did too. “Shishishi~ S’fine~ M’not gonna eat ya~” He says teasingly, his thumb pressing up against your soft glossy lips.

Your face begins to burn up before your eyes glance away from him.

Looking back to him, you notice his thin tongue sliding along his lips repeatedly as he stares at you in the eyes. You gulp your saliva as a mixture of feelings began to overwhelm your body. Your body grew warmer against his and you sigh heavily. His eyes didn’t look away from you one bit and you felt as if he was trying to undress you with them.

“You’re pretty. An’ I like that ‘bout ya.” He says to you, speaking his mind. You stare up at and let out a heavy sigh as he moves in closer to you. He slides his tongue along your neck once again and your heart pounds once more. “Is there something that you want?…” You ask reluctantly, his behavior growing more and more aggressive with every lick and tastes of your skin. He couldn’t hold back his urge much longer the more he tasted your skin.

Your question causes him to pause before he looks at you with his brows raised. “Yeah. There is.” He says to you before he slowly pulls away from your neck to face you. “Lemme have sum’ f’ya blood. Ya smell sweet…and it’s makin’ m’hungry.” He admits, his thick and heavy hands pressing hard against your shoulders.

You shudder but suck up any remaining feeling, part of you began to question if it was okay to bargain with such a man.

It was too late now though, by time you thought so you were already speaking.

“May I stay here for a few nights in exchange?” You asked, now desperate to just have a roof over your head and some heat enveloping your body. His brows raise as he listens to your question before his hand begins to ruffle at his hair. His eyes trails around with thought and a smile comes across his face before he grins widely. “Shishishi~ Playin’ hard ta get with me?” He asked, looking to you with an amused expression. You stay silent and look away from him out of nervousness.

“Alright. I’ll getcha whatever ya need. As long as ya stick with ya words.” He says, finally taking a step back away from you.

You feel a wave of relief wash over as he accepts your trade before you feel yourself quickly beginning to grow lightheaded and fatigued. As you begin to wobble he quickly rushes to your side and holds you steady, a small bit of laughter leaving him as he held on to you.

“Ya alright there?” He asked, his arms holding you up and steady. You exhale heavily and nodded. “I’m just…I’m just tired.” You sigh heavily as you lean up onto him. He smiles as he wraps his forearms underneath your body, lifting your body up off the ground as he walks down the long corridor.

You feel yourself ready to fade out of consciousness but you couldn’t allow yourself to, not when there was a bloodthirsty man carrying you down the dark corridors of his mansion. He walked slowly, making sure to take his time as he held your delicate body in his arms.

Among walking the dark halls and staircases, he finally brings you into a warm and cozy area, a room with a fireplace and warm bed far in front of it. “This is m’guest room. Hope it’ll warm ya up a bit.” He says as he walks over to the well-made bed. There was a canopy attached to the top, allowing the silky curtains to fall down and slightly obscure the bed.

He softly sets you onto the bed before walking away to look around in the closet. “Sorry if this ain’t good enough, ion usually have folks here so…just have this f’now.”

You slowly sit up against the bedding to look at him and he tosses a large shirt over to you. You look at it before sighing, you weren’t about it be picky with any clothes after he allowed you to stay in. “U-Um…” You look at him a she stood there with a little grin on his face, tilting his head as you call out to him.

“Hm? What’s wrong?”

“C-Can you…Can you turn around..?” A nervous blush spreads across your face as he stares at you with a blank expression. “Aw, not even a peek?” He asks, a little giggle leaving his lips as he slowly turns around.

You quickly try your best to change out of your sopping clothes as he stood there and waited for you to tell him to turn back around. “Where do I put these…?” You asked as you held your soaking clothing tightly. The young man peeks back before fully turning around and walking over to you. He grabs your clothes and sets them aside before smiling. “Ah, ya can set ‘em right here. It’ll be fine.”

You slowly climb into the bed as a yawn escapes your lips, leaving the young man out to stare at you as you settled into bed. You slowly close your eyes as the drowsiness crashed onto your body, pulling the blankets up farther so you could get comfy.

“Oi. Ain’t ya forgettin’ sum’?”

You slowly pull your eyes back open and see the young man staring down at you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight as he hovered over you. You shoot up from the pillows and stare at him, your body shivering a bit as he stares at you with intensity.

He presses his hand up against your neck and stares at it before trailing his eyes back to yours. You trembled as you felt his fingers trace along the skin of your neck, his fingertips prodding at silky smoothness of your skin.

He lands his hips onto your your lap as he stares down at you, the cheekiest yet darkest smirk spread across his face. “I want sum’ f’ya blood…now.” He says, his tone slightly more impatient than before. Your mouth quivered as his body weight was pressed up against yours, his fingers still tracing along your neck.

“R-Right…I forgot..” You lie. He smiles wider before he presses a smooch along your neck, making you let out a sudden mewl. “Y’aint forgot…Y’just nervous…” He whispers as he peppers kisses against your neck. You feel your body grow warmer as he tried his best to soothe you, soften you up before he was ready to take a bit.

“Ya smell s’good~ Ya skin’s tasty too~” He whisper to you, pressing a small smooch against your ear. “M-Mhh~” You feel heat beginning to spill from you as he kissed and suckled along your skin, making a few noises come out of your lips. He softly pushes your body down along the soft fluffy pillows, pressing more kisses against you before he finally presses a kiss to your lips.

“What’s ya name?~” He asks as he continues to press his lips against yours. “H-Hmm?~” You moan out, your hands now gripping his cloak tightly as the kisses began to feel so good against your skin.

The feeling of his warm rough lips along your skin began to make your mind swirl with arousal. You hear him giggle again as he cups yours face.

“What’s ya name baby?~” He asks, this time adding on a little pet name. You felt your heart swell up with slight joy as you hear him call you such a name. “_-________~” You gasp out. He chuckles. “Pretty name. M’name’s Luffy. Monkey D. Luffy.” He finally introduces himself as he presses another kiss to your lips. You let out a little gasp as his hands trails from your face to your shoulders. “________. Can I touch on ya an’ bite on ya?” He asks, lookin down at you with half-lidded eyes.

You stare up at him before blushing. “Y-Yes…Yes you can.” You breathe out softly. Luffy smiles as he yanks off his cloak urgently before he moves his hands to the buttons of his shirt. Buttons begins to fly everywhere as he pulls his shirt open with a heavy sigh, your eyes widening once you see his sculptured body in front of you.

Your hands trembled against the sheets as you stare at his torso. His abs defined prettily as you stared at them with eagerness. What made his entire look cuter was the X-shaped scar across his chest. A scar that signified lost and pain. A scar that singe deep within his skin. “Y’can touch it if ya want.” He snickers as he notices you staring at his body.

You slowly press your hands up against his scar, tracing it as a shaky breath leaves your lips. You feel him pull you closer as her buries his face deep into your neck. “Can I…Can I bite ya now?” He asks, his hands now shivering against your collarbone. “Y-Yes…Sorry for keeping you waiting.” You apologize, a little gasp leaving you once you feel his tongue along your neck again.

You feel him press his fangs against your skin, imprinting a spot on where he wanted to hit you. “Fuck…M’so ready~ Are ya ready ________?” He asks, his hands gripping your shoulders to keep you still. You clench your eyes shut and tense up as you felt your his teeth graze along your neck.

“Y-Yes, I’m ready..” You say shakily before exhaling softly.

[abigailxoxo]

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)

[theteasetwrites]

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 ➳

[corpupine]

NemaTale Chapter Five: At Cliff's Edge

A moral confrontation.

The rain drips slowly down, and the petals float up.

A choice to end . . . and begin again.

. . . Can you hear him, too?

____________________________________

Masterpost (start here if you’re new to the comic)

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Next Page (coming in December!) →

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Ask me a question!

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ahhh yay yay, here it is at last!! This page was a beast but I absolutely loved making it. Just a couple notes under the cut:

Water is probably my favorite subject. I never get tired of making ripples and bubbles and waves and reflections ahhhh

Why is Nema staring off into the middle distance behind Sans? no idea...maybe she's chatting with Chara? Or having a staring contest with a Moldsmol just out of view? The mystery continues...

The stars were fun to make too! Although it seems like they arranged themselves into a bit of an...odd pattern? I wonder why, I don't remember it looking like that when I uploaded it...ah well, I'm sure it's fine!

Please enjoy! I'm gonna go kiss my toddler and collapse now :>

[rainforestakiie]

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.

[lighthouseshepard]

ahhh been too afraid to pm you but hi from a silent mutual!!

writing prompt: john and yorick chat while arthur sleeps :))

HI HELLO!! im also always too afraid to pm everyone! thank you so much for sending this in and so sorry it took me a while! been a very busy few days (:

"Is he fully asleep, my king?"

John groans in annoyance among the relative darkness he'd been sulking within. Ever since Arthur's eyes shut once he fell into an exhausted, heavy slumber nearly thirty minutes prior, he'd been reluctant to try and exercise what little muscle control he possessed to squint them open again. Manipulating those muscles usually woke him regardless of how careful he was, leaving him with a splitting headache neither of them could explain. And at the moment, John couldn't bring himself to disturb the hard won sleep, as fitful as it was.

Yes, he's asleep, he hisses impatiently. Yorick's voice came from somewhere to their left, still attached by the chain threaded around their waist. Arthur's right arm twitches, fingers scrabbling for some imaginary thing, before falling still.

"Excellent," says the skull. "Our master requires much rest after that entire ordeal."

Our master? John snorts. The subtle stirrings of a cool night's breeze brush against the skin of his left hand, welcome after the wet, stale air of the cave. He's your master, not mine. 

"He is master to both of us!" Yorick exclaims, far too loudly. "Just as you are a king to him and myself. An inseparable pair, the dies irae, intertwined inexorably, dominion over one another and all else."

Jesus fucking Christ, John mutters, wishing he could wince. What does that even mean?

“Exactly as I said. Would you like me to repeat it?”

No, no. Can you quiet down? You're going to wake him.

“Certainly, my king.” His reply drops to a tone only slightly less loud than before. 

 And stop calling me that, he adds irritably. I'm not a king.

"You were once a king," Yorick states matter of fact, jaw clacking solidly as he speaks, a peculiarly troubling imitation of human life. "I do not see the issue with proclaiming this."

Once, he emphasizes. I'm not... I'm not that being any longer. I don't claim to be any kind of ruler anymore.

"Fair enough! What shall I call you if not a ruler, then?" 

John, he grinds out, the last droplet of water among the barren desert of his patience threatening to dissolve. John is fine.

"Alright," Yorick says, sounding pleased. "King John, how may I serve you?"

John heaves a haggard sigh. Unbelievable, he groans, and attempts to turn his attention away for a brief, blissful second to collect what surely remained of his sanity.

The thing that called itself vanguard spoke incessantly. Within the caves, climbing out into rain-damp earth and sky, walking to find shelter for nightfall in the hopes of catching at least a few hours sleep - it had not stopped talking the entire way. John had half a mind to untangle Yorick from Arthur's belt when he wasn't paying attention and throw him as far as his eyes could see. He'd never liked the thought of the vanguard anyway, had never wanted Arthur to take the head, keep the tooth. Something about a creature which existed simultaneously in the Dreamlands, the Dark World and their own reality never sat well with him. 

A hypocritical perspective, possibly, considering. Yet that similarity alone made him nervous, straddling a razor's cautious edge. He knew what he was capable of. Yorick remained a mystery.

They'd found an oak tree, its canopy stretching out far enough to provide cover from the last stray rain clouds rolling by, so long as Arthur kept curled at its trunk. He had fallen under almost immediately. One or two words exchanged between him and that damned skull, and he was out, John's name half formed on his lips in what sounded like the start of a question. It would likely be forgotten upon waking. Already Yorick was taking time meant for him.

Regardless, John knew him to be valuable, an asset they couldn't afford to get rid of. Certainly not now, with nothing to their names except the clothes Arthur wore and the bag he carried, no money, no food. If Yorick could be a wealth of information like he claimed, they'd have to put up with him a while longer. 

And then John could toss him into a lake.

In the stretch of thankful silence, Yorick apparently finally listening to his demands, he reaches over and inspects what remained of the wound. Dried blood coated Arthur's wrinkled shirt close to his heart, stiffening the fabric. Laying his palm flat and hesitantly across his chest, John takes solace in the flighty pulse tangibly felt there. Not too long ago there was none at all.

Arthur murmurs something wordless under his touch. John retracts his hand quickly, mildly guilty at having potentially disturbed him.

“You dislike when he sleeps,” Yorick says. Despite his position by Arthur's hip, rolled sideways where he'd come to rest as they laid down on dry grass, his voice still seemed to come from somewhere else around them. 

John waits a second for more to follow. Nothing comes - it's a statement, not an inquiry.

I don't dislike him sleeping, he huffs. He has to rest, obviously.

“Yet it troubles you regardless? The absence of him.”

I don't, John sputters out, struggling to keep his voice level. I'm not… lonely if that's what you're suggesting. Will you just shut up already? We're both going to wake him up at this rate.

“Our master is blind to the world in multiple senses of the word,” says Yorick. “Deep within a dream. He will not wake for some time.”

How do you know he's dreaming? he asks, perplexed. You can't… see into his mind, or-

“I know a great many things.” Another beat of silence, decorated by the cricket song in the surrounding brush shielding them from view. Again John waits for an explanation, growling agitatedly when none is forthcoming.

Such as? he prompts. What is he dreaming about? 

“I do not know the specifics,” clacks Yorick. “Yet I'm aware of the turmoil of his thoughts. There is a string of piano keys tied like wire around his ankles, a bathtub overflowing, a yellow sun-”

Okay, I get the specifics! John mutters. So a nightmare, clearly.

“Precisely! Excellent conclusion, King John.”

He was starting to immediately regret accidentally adding John to that title. Is there a way we can help him, then?

As if on cue, subconsciously aware he was being discussed, Arthur lets out a low, pained breath of air. Instinctively John’s hand jolts to attention, fingers delicately skimming the wound like he would find answers or assistance there. His legs were twitching, again his arm reaching and then recoiling from something John couldn’t see or understand. 

Nightmares were the only times he felt useful, whenever Arthur slept. Lingering in the corners of his mind, stuck between drifting into his own thoughts and keeping an active listen for anything that might hurt them while he was out - it wore him down in ways be couldn't explain. Yorick was right, even though John would rather revisit the Dark World than admit it. He did hate when Arthur had to sleep for the emptiness it left him with. Being able to wake him from a bad dream as soon as he caught the signs left him aware of a strange, disjointed sense of selfish pleasure. Even if it came at the risk of Arthur’s unhappiness, helping him out of a nightmare was one thing he could do consistently right.

“He will not wake until the nightmare is complete,” Yorick says nonchalantly. “He is too deep.”

Which will take how long?

“I know a great many things,” he says for the second time. “Yet this, I do not.”

Another whimper, softer than the last. John taps the side of his head, tugs at his shirt collar, goes so far as to flick his nose multiple times in a row, as hard as he could manage. Nothing caused him to stir. He could slap him, sure, but in this state he might break apart altogether.

Great. John heaves a sigh. So we just have to listen to this, then? Until he’s, what, done dreaming?

“That is correct. We could always pass the time discussing, my King.”

Discussing what? He snorts. The maggots we just crawled through? No thanks.

“Or,” Yorick adds, “you could always return your hand to his chest.”

What? 

“Your hand,” he repeats, jaw clicking knowingly. “It is the one thing which calms the dreams. I’ve witnessed it many times before.”

You didn’t even have eyes, then, John says sardonically. What could you possibly have witnessed?

“I have no physical eyes now, but I can see you and the master. I was aware then, and in a way, I am aware now.”

In the shrouding blackness of Arthur’s slumber, John imagines the two points of white light where the prince’s eyes once rested staring sideways up at them, awash in tendrils of green smoke. Was this how Arthur felt all the time, kept in the dark, left to wonder how everyone was looking at him? 

Carefully, he puts his hand back in the center of Arthur’s chest. Fingers splay out, one wooden pinky, the rest a thin collection of bruises and scars and broken, chipped nails. That fidgety pulse returns, a bird’s caught wing under his palm. The rhythm remains so for nearly a minute, stuttering and jumping to some melody John couldn’t follow along, and he’s about ready to give it up for nonsensical, stupid advice before he hears Arthur sigh.

It’s not the same troubled exhale as before. This one comes calmer, more even-keeled. As he focuses on his heartbeat he notices it begins to slow, calming bit by bit into a steady, softer pattern. Arthur’s movements drift to a halt. He shifts among the roots, mumbling something too quiet to comprehend, and eventually falls silent.

“He sleeps much like the dead in appearance,” Yorick states thoughtfully. “I believe the dream has come to a close, for now.”

Good, remarks John, at a loss for anything else to say. He wasn’t going to tell Yorick thank you; but it was tempting. The gentle rise and fall of Arthur’s breathing is a placid current, subtler than the new rain beginning to break through the clouds overhead in the night. He could plainly picture him, sprawled out uncomfortably, breeze touseling sweat damp hair, a downward curve in a mouth which always seemed to be frowning lately. Protected just enough beneath the oak, protected enough beneath John’s palm.

Well, at least one of us is content.

“I am much content, King John.”

That makes a total of two. Can you please shut the hell up now? 

“If that is what you wish," the skull says amicably. "Then I will."

It is, John bites. Just thirty minutes of fucking silence. Please.

Yorick says nothing. Relief settles over him as the break distends. Minutes pass until he finally accepts his desire had been properly observed. Crickets sing around them once more.

Sleep well, he whispers, hand firmly over heart. Perhaps we can wait a little longer to get rid of him.

[shieldkeeper]

Writing Prompt: Steer Word Count: 765 ---> masterlist

Ahhh… blue seas, clear skies, and boundless possibilities!

Or so it should have been.

Garen’s crew had set off from Old Sharlayan once all crew was accounted for. Everyone had their own place, their own duty, and their hull full of supplies for the journey that would take a few days to cross the ocean proper. They were as ready as they’d ever be to make for the New World of Tural.

Joining him was Emrys, Totsuka, Kojin, Luin, Mogcan, Olyxio, Seiseito, and most of all his Da, Yavin. Each associating and serving as ambassador for a specific society tribe to foster friendly relations amongst their people. Tural was but another place on the docket to complete that mission, though it was also for the fact of… adventure! A land full of mystery and intrigue compared to those of Eorzea and Othard. Tale was that Tural was home to many communities and tribes that had managed to make friends with their neighbors and live amicably.

Something that intrigued Garen most in his desire to bridge that same gap back home.

Though that was neither here nor there given their… current situation.

Halfway into their journey across the western seas did they encounter a storm unlike other. Yavin had been the first to sniff it out before it so much as came into view and warned Garen that they were in for a rough one. Trusting in his Da’s knowledge and experience with the seas, as captain of his crew he called for all hands on deck. To prepare for the worst as he would steer the boat on course—for the clouds they approached spread far over their path.

Indeed, the waves grew choppy and seized round them as they entered the fray. The unexperienced of the crew holding on for dear life to their appointed spot as the vessel swayed unnaturally beneath their feet. Rain poured heavily and lightning struck hazardly all around them. One wrong move and they might very well go overboard. Worse yet if their ship ended up struck and sunken!

Through it all, Garen managed to carry them through the storm. His Da barking orders to the others much like he had in his heyday as a captain himself. Where some struggled, Yavin was right there telling them what to do. Any who appeared to have no clue what they were doing, he sent down into the ship to instead fortify their belongings and nothing of import broke—though it was mostly to get the useless hands out of the way so he himself could take over.

It was an all-out effort to be certain… and there were times Garen wondered if he might have lost a crew member amidst the struggle…

But ultimately they had escaped rather unscathed! 

Well, except for the majority who were sick as a dog from being tossed and turned all over the place.

Once they were free of the storm’s clutches completely and able to assess damages, Yavin took over the helm as Garen checked in on each member. Mogcan and Olyxio having been the most useless of the lot (and at times, made things worse) had remained below deck for the majority. Out of fear of the situation, they had unglamoured back into their original forms and were found huddled together beneath a blanket as sylph and moogle refused to come out. Not until they knew all was well again. It was Emrys who truly kept everything safe and restrained below decks in the grand scheme of things.

Kojin and Seiseito had held their own above decks just fine. Luin and Totsuka struggled but ultimately were able to assist in a meaningful way with Yavin’s direction—though they may have been a bit too sick for words after being tossed about so roughly. Garen thanked them all regardless for keeping their cool and relieved them of their duties to get some rest.

Through the rest of the journey, Yavin and Garen took turns manning the wheel and watching for any further rough waters that might take them for a turn. Though it had been a rough one, it had been the only thing standing in their way of Tural.

For the closer they got, the clearer the waters became. Seabirds ringing in their arrival as Tuliyollal came into sight. Their destination just beyond the coral reef.

At long last, the New World lay right before their very eyes. A new place to call home as they settled in for their next grand adventure. And a step closer to Garen achieving what he so wished back home.

[cherrb333]

HEHEHEHEHE I FINALLY FINISHED THISSSSS AHHHH IM SO PROUD OF HOW IT CAME OUT>:D

Random ahhh story I thought up after seeing someone's art piece ;)

Part 1/???

Thanks for the inspiration @sunnyyyteaaa :D

Timeline: the 2018 turtles are about 7, 3, and 1. More explanation later

Thunder split the earth, rumbling the ground, and rain pattered in buckets onto the ground, leaving nothing but the sound of wet splats on the wet muddy ground. A mysterious cloaked figure can be seen running through the horrid weather. An infant's cries filled the air, complimenting the pound of rumbling clouds. Water fell like a waterfall onto the ground, loudly panging on the mysterious person. A hue of purple filled the air as the cloaked figure was hit with a ball of light. They yelped, dropping onto the muddy ground, dropping the grip they had on the older more spike child, who called out for his papa. The other three clung onto his fur, rain pooling on their bald heads. He quickly stumbled to his feet, pivoting and picking up his children, taking off once again as the hood fell from his head to reveal a mutated rat, fur brown in color, dull from grime and dirt. His clothes were ripped, an old uniform from his old acting career. He swerved left and right, trying to throw off the chasers, but despite all his attempts, they were relentless. It seemed the sky fit his mood as he suddenly ran into a dead end, cursing under his breath as he clutched his son's tighter into his chest. He froze as a familiar voice broke through the loud weather, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Nowhere to run, deary. Now, why don't you just hand over what's mine, and we can get this over with”

a voice chirped from behind him, heels clicking as the woman clacked her way over to the rat. A woman clad in purple business wear pushed her glasses up as she snapped her fingers, a bunch of men dressed in bellhop uniforms surrounded the man as he held a hand protectively over his son's head, holding out the other to shelter the red one from view.

“You know how big mama hates to wait!”

the woman , big mama as she had said, sneered, crossed her arms, digging her long nails into the fabric of her cashmere top jacket. How had she found him so quickly? The man, now newly formed as a rat mutant, pulled his hood over his head as he stared daggers at the taller woman.

“No. I will not fight for you, ever again. I vowed not to harm another innocent creature ever again. So you can send whatever army, I will not let you take me again.”

He hissed, clutching the strap that held his sons to his chest and back, a makeshift sling he made out of an old hoodie and string. Mama tutted, shaking her head disapprovingly at the man.

“No no, silly willy, I meant the little turtley wurtles you have for children. They would be perfect for my nexus, blood children of Lou Jitsu. The seats would be filled!”

It was like big dollar signs twinkled in her eyes as she swooned from side to side, humming a soft tune. The rat man scowled, holding his fists up as he handed the three brothers to the eldest, who blinked up at his dad.

“Papa? What's happening?”

Little Red called, grabbing his father's finger with his tiny tridactyl fingers wrapping them in a fist around the appendage.

“Don't worry, red, your old man just needs to take care of business. Take your brothers, and run, ok? Papa will distract them”

the older mutant whispered to his son, holding a warm but stern gaze as he gave one final forehead kiss before standing up, fists ready. Red watched as his papa lunged forward, stalling in a mesmerized haze as his father whipped his fist clean across one goon's face, tail whipping out and slapping another away by accident. raph trembled, stuck in a trance as his father was thrown into a fight, he slowly and hesitantly took tiny steps backwards, holding a firm grip on his siblings, who all cried at the sounds of bones crunching under flying fists. He shook his head, no, he had to listen to Papa. Focus, red, get your brothers out of here, he turned on his heel, long tail smacking against the floor anxiously, almost tripping him as he broke out in a long sprint, holding tightly onto his brothers as he high-tailed out of there, gasping as he muscles screamed at him, too young and weak to function properly.

He tried to block out the fading noises behind him, his breath getting harder and harder to take in as his eyes stung With unshed tears. He weaved through the alleys, rain still beating down on him, and making it harder to keep from slipping on the concrete. Lightning lit up the sky, sending a booming tremor through the air that left red anxiety to spike tremendously. He huffed loudly, breaths rugged and uneven as he slowed to a stop, looking behind him, and sighing in relief when he saw none had followed Him. He looked down at his brothers, frowning when he saw the droplets fall and roll down their chubby cheeks. They were going to get sick, he looked around for some sort of shelter, holding the 3 tighter to his chest to give them warmth, but stopping when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he screamed as the grip tightened, another strike of lightning brightening the sky and causing the younger siblings to break out in loud cries

Suddenly, They were all falling, the thunder becoming a distant noise that eventually settled into quiet as the person who tried to kidnap them was knocked out cold from The fall. Raph groaned as he landed on his shell, rubbing his big thumb along the young spotted box turtle's head, which chirred in response, the other two twins whined, squirming, one overstimulated, and the other trying to break free. Raph looked around, noticing immediately how dull everything looked compared to the usual vibrant tones of New York. He wasn't home. Not anymore.

Masterpost | next

[m1n4h]

OMGG you also like the glamtony theory I'm screaming 👹👹 could you give us more crumbs about that? (btw beautiful drawings AHHH!1!2!1!✨)

Yeah, sure!! Also, thank you <3

There may be a bit of water in the start, forgive me for that.

I think, that the take where Tony dies from Glamrock Freddy has the most evidence. In the patient 46 disks we learn that GGY most likely used animatronics to get rid of therapists. Meaning he was luring therapists to the pizzaplex, and then got rid of them with the help of animatronics.

What Gregory does in the end of GGY? He invites Tony to the pizzaplex.

GGY was also using Glamrock Freddy to stalk Tony throughout the book. It's a pretty obvious hint, that Glamrock Freddy was probably supposed to kill Tony, since GGY used animatronics to kill therapists too. I don't see anything that could tell us otherwise.

Tony was a kid, who was always desiring to solve mysteries, because of what happened to his father in the past. In the end of GGY book everything went down to him, when Gregory and Ellis "ruined" his story he spent so much time and energy on, and then got sent to detention, because he was caught on camera at night. So much happened to him, there's so much to himself too, I don't think he would rest as a soul after death. That's how he could've possess Glamrock Freddy.

I hope i don't have to explain how much hints to Glamrock Freddy being possessed are there.

Also, In my opinion, this theory is mostly carried by how Glamrock Freddy in SB and Tony in GGY act similar to each other.

Small character analysis here. Both can overthink and do (Gregory, in answer, was always shutting them up btw). Both are pretty kind and friendly. Both are quite intelligent and shrewd. Both desire to solve a complicated mystery, and both have sense for dark deeds.

Other than that, there's also some hints in the GGY book itself.

For example, how Tony waved to Freddy thinking he was being friendly, and in answer he just stared blankly at Tony.

But in Security Breach if you stare at Freddy for a bit too long, he'll wave to you the same.

Or how Tony figured that Mary from GGY's pass and Mary Schneider (the missing therapist) could be the same person, similar to how Freddy figured that there is something going on with Vanny and Vanessa.

Speaking of coincidences. Just like Freddy, who's not believing the coincidence with Vanny and Vanessa, Tony, who thought of Gs and Ys in the codes of the Glamrocks, which are most likely connected to GGY, also seems to not like them.

Freddy and Tony are both very aware of what is going on, and know more than it might seem at first glance. It's shown that Freddy is aware of the disappearances and other odd things of the Pizzaplex.

First of all, why would Freddy be in Roxy Raceway in the first place? He also said he thinks that something is wrong. Again, he is aware of something going on, and he most likely tried to investigate it. This just reminds of Tony, who's obsessed with investigating, and hates, if mystery remains unsolved. If he takes on it, he will make it until the end, even if his safety or life depends on it.

There are also some cut voice lines, that I'd like to mention. Even though souls are pretty forgetful, they still can remember something. I'll put these two voice lines as an example:

Regarding the second voice line, it seems that Freddy may have remembered something about GGY and Gregory, before he lost control. He could remember that, because Tony looked through the database in the story:

I should tell you, that most of the evidence i said here i took from one of the creators' own video with explanation of this theory, and she mentioned two other things in her video: eyes and how it fits in with lore. The thing is i doubt on the suitability of the first topic, because the video was posted like a year ago, and the second topic requires separate analysis. So i'll probably leave it there for now.

Sorry for long wait, and sorry for such a long post ;w;

[zapreportsblog]

I don’t know wether you do gender neutral readers or not, but I was thinking something with gn!mermaid!reader x Carlisle where they’ve never actually met a human or even a vampire and they see him and immediately become infatuated with him. 🥺 If you can’t do gn then you can switch it to female.

Ahhh you’re a new follower! And yes I do do gender neutral readers. I do the usual fem and male readers too, gender neutral, i do LGBTQ+ as well and even go far as to give the reader a specific race if requested, for an example : x alien reader, x poc reader, x Asian American reader etc. I have no limits

❝forget me not❞

✭ pairing : Carlisle Cullen x gender neutral reader

✭ fandom : twilight x reader

✭ summary : (y/n) is a mermaid who enjoys watching humans from afar but when they discovers the person they’ve been recently watching isn’t a human but a vampire, oh now their obsessed with learning more

✭ authors note : this was a really cute idea

✭ twilight masterlist

The lake sparkled under the warm rays of the sun, its tranquil waters hiding a secret world beneath its surface. In its depths, (Y/N), a mermaid, resided, their iridescent scales reflecting the vibrant colors of their underwater realm. They had spent their entire existence in this secluded lake, unaware of the existence of humans or even vampires.

From the safety of their aquatic home, (Y/N) would often observe the land-dwellers from afar, their curiosity piqued by the bustling activities on the shore. They watched with wide-eyed wonder as families played, lovers strolled hand-in-hand, and children built sandcastles. Every interaction fascinated them, but they were content to remain hidden, merely an observer of the human world.

One day, as (Y/N) peered through the crystal-clear waters, they noticed a figure unlike any they had ever seen before. Tall and elegant, with a distinct aura of mystery surrounding them, the stranger stood on the edge of the lake, gazing out into the vastness of the ocean.

As (Y/N)'s eyes met those of the enigmatic figure, their heart skipped a beat. The stranger, named Carlisle, possessed an otherworldly charm that set him apart from any human. His pale skin seemed to shimmer in the sunlight, and his eyes held a depth that mirrored the secrets of the ocean itself.

In that moment, (Y/N) realized that Carlisle was no ordinary human. A surge of excitement coursed through their veins as they contemplated what he could be. Their infatuation with him grew stronger with each passing second, and they yearned to know more about this captivating creature.

Determined to unravel the mystery that surrounded Carlisle, (Y/N) swam closer to the lake's surface, their eyes fixed on him. They watched as he gracefully walked along the shore, his every movement captivating. (Y/N) couldn't help but wonder what lay beyond his enigmatic exterior.

With every passing day, (Y/N) found themselves unable to tear their gaze away from Carlisle. They studied his habits, his expressions, and his interactions with others, trying to understand the essence of his being. They yearned to swim by his side, to listen to the sound of his voice, and to discover the secrets that lay hidden within him.

However, it wasn't until one fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, that (Y/N) finally summoned the courage to approach Carlisle. Driven by an insatiable curiosity and a longing for connection, they emerged from the water, their tail transforming into legs as they stepped onto the shore.

As (Y/N) cautiously approached Carlisle, their heart pounded with anticipation. They couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and nervousness, knowing that their lives were about to change forever. With a gentle smile, they took a deep breath and spoke, hoping to unlock the mystery of the mesmerizing creature before them.

"Hello," they said softly, "I have watched you from afar, and I am consumed by a desire to know more about you. Who are you? What lies beneath the surface of your captivating presence?"

Carlisle turned to face them, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he replied, "Oh my, I hadn’t expected to run into a mermaid, though I must be honest your curiosity matches my own."

“Would you care to come with me so that I may observe you and you can do the same to me?”

Intrigued by Carlisle's response, (Y/N) felt a surge of excitement fill their heart. They had spent countless years observing the human world, but now, they were on the verge of uncovering a world they had never known before.

The mermaid and the enigmatic creature began their journey together, their paths intertwining as they ventured into the unknown. With each step, yes step. (Y/n) was a exotic mermaid, able to change from tail to legs in a single transformation, (Y/N) felt their infatuation grow, their desire to understand Carlisle intensifying.

As they walked side by side, Carlisle shared stories of his existence. He spoke of his immortality, revealing that he was not a mere human but a vampire. His words painted a picture of a life shaped by time, wisdom, and an insatiable thirst for knowledge. (Y/N) listened with rapt attention, captivated by the tales of a world hidden in the shadows.

In return, (Y/N) shared stories of their underwater realm, describing the wonders of the deep sea, the vibrant creatures that inhabited it, and the tranquility that enveloped their existence. Carlisle's eyes widened with wonder as he listened, fascinated by a world he had only heard of in legends.

With each passing day, their bond deepened, their connection growing stronger. They explored forests together, climbed mountains, and even crossed vast deserts, their journey becoming a testament to the power of curiosity and the beauty of discovery.

Through their explorations, (Y/N) realized that Carlisle's enigmatic aura was not just a product of his vampire nature, but also a reflection of the depth of his character. Beneath his immortal exterior, Carlisle possessed an unwavering compassion, a genuine desire to understand and connect with the world around him.

Together, they encountered humans, vampires, and creatures of all kinds, each encounter further expanding their understanding of the world. (Y/N) marveled at the complexities and diversity of life, their perspective forever changed by the experiences they shared with Carlisle.

But amidst the wonder and excitement, a bittersweet realization began to take hold. As (Y/N) spent more time with Carlisle, they couldn't help but acknowledge the vast differences that separated them. They belonged to two separate worlds, each with its own intricacies, limitations, and responsibilities.

The mermaid and the vampire continued their journey, torn between the pull of their connection and the awareness of their inherent differences. (Y/N) cherished the moments they spent with Carlisle, yet a part of them longed to return to their tranquil lake, the only place they had ever truly called home.

As their journey neared its end, (Y/N) found themselves standing on the precipice of a decision. Should they continue to pursue their infatuation with Carlisle, risking the stability and comfort of their underwater haven? Or should they bid farewell, cherishing the memories they had created together?

With a heavy heart, (Y/N) turned to Carlisle, their voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and longing. "Carlisle," they said softly, "our journey has been one of wonder and discovery. But now, I must return to my lake, to the life I have always known. I will cherish our time together, forever grateful for the connection we shared."

Carlisle's eyes softened with understanding, his hand reaching out to gently touch (Y/N)'s cheek. "Your lake will always be a part of you," he said, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and acceptance. "Go, my dear mermaid, and may the memories of our time together guide you on your path."

With a final glance, (Y/N) turned away, their heart heavy with both loss and newfound wisdom. As they dived back into the depths of their beloved lake, they carried with them the cherished memories of a journey that had forever changed their perspective on the world.

And from the shore, Carlisle watched, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, knowing that the mermaid had left an indelible mark on his immortal heart.