#I got new earrings and I’m loving the change

[rainforestakiie]

one more to go for the Adamsapple Harvest Month ! I am looking forward what you have been cooking for this, since it's a free choice day !

Love all your stories ! Sending Adamsapple vibes 💕💕

aww, thank you so much! your support throughout harvest meant so much for me! i didn't think i would have gotten so many of them done! i tried my very best to make each one different!

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Free Day~

Part 01 - Part 02

this took me so long to settle on. i had so many different ideas and thoughts. in the end, i tried to do something new and different. i hope you like this! i hope you all like this!

@adamsappleweek

The woman's scream tore through the silence of the night, a harrowing sound that pierced even the suffocating darkness. Above, the midnight sky roiled with thunder, as if the heavens themselves shuddered at her anguish. Inside the sprawling, dimly lit manor, the air was thick with murmurs. Maids in crisp black-and-white uniforms scrambled through the halls, their skirts swishing as their polished boots clattered against the wooden floors. They carried steaming bowls of water, towels, and freshly laundered sheets, their whispers weaving a tapestry of unease as they darted between the master bedroom and the washroom.

In the heart of the chaos, the lady of the house wailed, her cries echoing down the long, shadowy corridors. The flickering gaslights buzzed, their unstable glow casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. When the grandfather clock struck midnight, her screams abruptly ceased, leaving behind a dreadful silence that seeped into every corner of the house.

The servants moved like ghosts, their heads bowed, eyes averted as they passed the master of the house. He stood in the corridor, his face carved from stone, his hands clenched into trembling fists. The whispers rose around him, faint but persistent, carried like a curse through the air.

The young master is a monster, they said. The words slithered from one mouth to another, infecting every ear. The newborn is a freak.

The master clenched his jaw as his advisers urged him to dismiss the servants' gossip, but the words gnawed at him, relentless. Upstairs, his wife lay pale and weak in their grand four-poster bed. Her once-vivid curls were now limp, splayed across her pillow like wilted vines. The maids hovered around her, cleaning her, changing her gown and the blood-stained sheets. She opened her eyes only when her husband entered the room.

"Where is my baby?" she whispered, her voice trembling like the last note of a dying song.

The master said nothing at first. He knelt beside her, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Her breath hitched, her frail hand clutching at his. Her wide, red-rimmed eyes darted to the empty cradle beside the bed. The absence of her child was a gaping void, a silent accusation. When he tried to soothe her, stroking her hair, she turned away, her body shaking with silent sobs. The master rose, his chest tight, and left the room without another word. Behind him, her grief erupted, a raw sound that reverberated through the house.

Down the corridor, he stormed past servants who scurried out of his way, their whispers like the hiss of snakes. A monster, they said, a freak. Their words followed him to the nursery, where he threw the door open with such force that it banged against the wall.

The baby cried, a thin, fragile wail that pricked the air like needles. An elderly woman, seated beside the cradle, glared at him.

"I just got him to sleep," she snapped.

Ignoring her, the master approached the cradle, staring down at the bundle of blankets that obscured his son.

"This—this cannot be," he muttered, his voice thick with revulsion.

The old woman—his mother—sighed and began to rock the cradle gently. "He's a baby, not a monster. He just needs love, Nathaniel."

A scoff came from the corner. "Love?"

The adviser, a man with sharp features and a colder demeanour, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "Love won’t hide what he is. The boy’s existence is a stain on your name, Nathaniel."

"Enough!" Nathaniel barked, his voice cracking through the room like a whip. He turned to the doctor, who stood by the rain-streaked window, twisting his hands nervously.

"How did this happen?" Nathaniel demanded. "You told us nothing was wrong!"

The doctor hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor.

"I—I did inform you," he stammered. "The condition is rare, but it happens. It's not genetic; it can occur in any family. Your son has... Phocomelia."

"Phocomelia?" Nathaniel repeated, the word foreign and bitter on his tongue.

The doctor nodded, explaining haltingly that the condition affected the baby's limbs, leaving them underdeveloped. He spoke of challenges, of a life that would be different but not devoid of meaning.

But Nathaniel’s face grew darker with every word. "This is not what I expected," he said coldly. "This is not my son."

"You haven’t even held him," his mother spat, rising from her chair. "You look at him as though he's some cursed thing, but he is your flesh and blood!"

The adviser sneered. "Flesh and blood? He’ll bring nothing but shame to this family."

"Do not speak of my grandson that way," the old woman snapped, her voice shaking with fury.

Nathaniel leaned over the cradle, peeling back the blankets with trembling hands. The sight of the baby—tiny, fragile, and undeniably different—seemed to drain the colour from his face.

"No," he whispered. "This... This cannot be my child."

"Then give him to me," his mother said, her voice thick with disgust. "If you cannot see him as your son, I will take him."

But Nathaniel ignored her. His hands shook as he picked up the baby, the child’s cries filling the room again. His mother screamed for him to stop as he stormed out, the baby clutched tightly in his arms. He ran through the rain-soaked streets, the icy drops drenching him as his mind raced with dark, unthinkable thoughts.

At the river’s edge, he stopped, staring at the dark, swirling water.

"You were supposed to be perfect," he murmured, his voice cracking. "Not... this."

But he couldn’t do it. Something inside him faltered, and instead, he turned and stumbled to a nearby bus stop. Placing the baby in a small wooden box, he wrapped the blankets around the child one last time. The baby whimpered, his tiny face crumpling, but Nathaniel couldn’t bear to look.

"Forgive me," he whispered, before walking away.

The rain fell harder as a woman, hurrying home, spotted the box. Her sharp intake of breath cut through the storm as she lifted the crying baby, her heart aching at the sight. She looked around the empty street, but no one was there.

Hugging the baby close, she whispered, "You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you."

The rain had soaked the small bundle through by the time the woman found him. Her trembling hands carefully lifted the wooden box, and she gasped softly at the sight of the newborn. The baby's cries were weak but insistent, his tiny face scrunched up against the cold. Pressing him close to her chest, she shielded him from the relentless downpour with her threadbare coat.

As she hurried home to her crumbling flat, her mind raced. Who could abandon such a fragile life? It wasn’t until she reached the safety of her dimly lit apartment and carefully unwrapped the blankets that she understood. Her heart clenched painfully as her eyes travelled over the tiny form: no arms, no legs—just the delicate torso of a child struggling to exist in a world that already seemed against him.

She wept then, not out of horror but out of heartbreak. How could anyone look at this innocent life and see only what he lacked? To her, the child was perfect, as if he had been entrusted to her for a reason.

"Adam," she whispered softly, cradling him close. "I’ll love you. I promise."

Life with Adam was not easy. The woman, whose name was Clara, worked tirelessly to care for him. Her rundown flat, with its peeling wallpaper and drafty windows, was barely a home, but she made it warm with her love. Adam grew, a curious and bright boy, but his care required more than Clara could often afford. Medical bills piled up alongside rent, utilities, and the cost of even the most basic groceries. Clara took on four jobs—cleaning houses, working nights at a diner, mending clothes for neighbours, and even scrubbing floors at the local church. She rarely slept, and exhaustion painted dark circles beneath her eyes, but she never once considered giving Adam up.

Her brother, Marcus, saw things differently. From the moment he laid eyes on Adam, he recoiled.

"You can’t do this, Clara," he told her during one of his visits. He avoided looking at Adam, even as the boy’s laughter echoed from his corner of the room, where he played with his few toys. "You don’t make enough to care for yourself, let alone a child like... that."

Clara’s jaw tightened, and she clenched her fists. "He’s not that, Marcus. He’s my son."

"He’s not your son," Marcus snapped, his voice sharp and unyielding. "And if you don’t face reality, you’re going to ruin yourself—and him."

As Adam grew older, the strain deepened. Clara found herself sacrificing meals to ensure Adam had what he needed. Every passing month brought more heated arguments with Marcus.

"You have to do something, Clara," he insisted, his frustration mounting. "You can’t keep this up. Look at you! You’re wasting away, and Adam—"

"Don’t you dare," she interrupted, her voice trembling but firm. "Don’t you dare say anything about Adam. He’s happy. He’s loved."

"Love doesn’t pay the bills!" Marcus slammed his hand on the table one evening, a newspaper clenched in his other hand.

"Look." He smoothed the page out and jabbed a finger at an advertisement. "He’ll fit in here."

Clara leaned forward, her stomach twisting as she read the bold black letters: Unique Acts Wanted! Join the Grand Circus!

"No." Her voice cracked, and tears blurred her vision. "I’m not giving up Adam. I can’t."

"He’s not yours, Clara," Marcus said harshly, leaning in closer. "He’s not your real son, and this—this circus will take care of him. They’re offering good money, Clara. You can finally breathe. You can get out of this hellhole."

Clara shook her head violently, her tears falling freely now. "I love him. He’s my son, Marcus! How can you even suggest this?"

"Because you’re drowning!" Marcus shouted. "Your bills have tripled, and I can’t keep bailing you out. Do you think I like this? Do you think I want this for you? For him? But you’ve left me no choice."

He slammed the newspaper shut. "The circus has already offered a pretty penny, Clara. They’ll be here in an hour."

The room fell silent. Clara stared at him, her chest heaving as the words sank in.

"You already made the deal," she whispered, her voice hollow. "You sold my son before even asking me."

Marcus didn’t flinch, though guilt flickered across his face. "You couldn’t keep him, Clara. You know that. It’s for the best."

When the circus master arrived, dressed in a shabby brown suit that reeked of damp wool and cheap cigars, Clara couldn’t bear to watch. She locked herself in her tiny bedroom, burying her face in her hands as Adam’s voice, bright and trusting, called out, "Mama? Mama!"

The sound broke her, and she sobbed into her hands, guilt and despair washing over her like a tidal wave. The door creaked open behind her, but she couldn’t look. She couldn’t face the moment when they would take her son from her.

Adam’s cries grew louder as they carried him away, his small voice calling for her one last time. "Mama! Don’t let them take me! Mama!"

The door slammed shut, and the apartment fell silent except for Clara’s muffled sobs. She couldn’t forgive herself—not now, not ever. Outside, the circus master handed Marcus a stack of bills, tipped his hat, and disappeared into the night with Adam.

Adam was only seven years old, and the last thing he saw as they bundled him into the wagon was the faint outline of the flat where his mama had hidden from him, her love buried beneath the weight of her guilt.

Fred saw Adam as nothing more than a grotesque goldmine. From the moment the boy entered the circus, Fred wasted no time in parading him onstage as the "Freak Child." Audiences gasped and whispered behind their hands as Adam was brought out, crawling clumsily across the stage. He would tumble and roll, his tiny, limbless body performing involuntary acts that Fred framed as entertainment. The crowd erupted in laughter, but it was a cruel, hollow sound that echoed like mockery through the circus tent.

Adam didn’t understand why they laughed or what they wanted from him. Fred told him, again and again, that if he worked hard enough, he could earn his way back to his mama. That promise was the tether to which Adam clung, the single thread of hope that kept him going. So, he smiled as best he could, dragged himself across the stage, and endured the taunts of strangers who saw him as nothing more than a curiosity. Fred counted the profits, pocketing thousands as word of Adam spread. People travelled from far and wide to see the "freak show child," and Fred’s pockets grew heavy with gold.

But as Adam grew older, the novelty wore off. The laughter faded, and the crowds thinned. Adam tried to do more, to sew costumes for himself or add flair to his appearances, but it wasn’t enough. Fred, once gloating and indulgent, became cruel. When Adam asked about returning home, Fred sneered and spat venomous words.

"Your mother doesn’t want you," he snarled. "Why do you think she sold you to me?"

The words shattered Adam’s fragile hope, leaving him trembling with disbelief.

"That’s not true," he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. "She loves me. She said so."

"Love?" Fred barked a bitter laugh. "If she loved you, she’d be here. Face it—you’re nothing but a disappointment."

When the audiences dwindled to nothing, Fred’s patience ran out entirely. He began locking Adam away between shows, confining him to trunks or cupboards like a discarded toy. The other performers, jealous of the attention Adam had once received, delighted in his misery. They stuffed insects into his hiding spots, laughing cruelly as Adam screamed and thrashed in fear.

The performers’ cruelty escalated. They told Adam that if he could learn real tricks—balancing on a ball, juggling—Fred would forgive him and send him back to his mama.

"You want to see her, don’t you?" they cooed mockingly.

Desperate, Adam begged them to teach him, clinging to the shred of hope they dangled before him. They agreed, but it was all a cruel prank. They had him perform ridiculous stunts, like spinning aimlessly or pretending to dance, things that only drew eye-rolls from the sparse audiences.

Their taunts grew sharper. "Look at you!" they sneered. "Even Fred doesn’t want you now."

Adam’s spirit crumbled under the weight of their ridicule. He became more isolated, barely able to move, spending his days crawling about like a shadow of the boy he once was.

Then came the prank that changed everything. One night, the performers drugged Adam, carrying him to a mechanic under the pretence of "fixing" him. They told the mechanic to give Adam what he needed to "truly perform." The mechanic, unburdened by ethics, created something monstrous: a spider-like lower body of sharp, mechanical legs and two grotesque, human-like arms grafted to Adam’s torso. When Adam awoke, he screamed, the pain of his transformation overwhelming him. He stared in horror at his new body, unable to comprehend what had been done to him.

When Adam stumbled back to the circus, the performers recoiled in terror. Screams filled the tent as Fred confronted him, his face twisted in rage.

"You can’t stay here," Fred growled. "You’re scaring the customers away."

Rocks flew through the air, one striking Adam’s face and drawing blood. Broken and defeated, Adam fled into the streets, his new legs clattering awkwardly beneath him.

The world was no kinder. Wherever Adam went, people screamed, throwing stones or kicking him when he stumbled. Groups of children tormented him, pushing him into the mud and calling him a monster. Adam learned to avoid the streets altogether, hiding in shadowy alleyways where the world couldn’t see him.

One bitterly cold winter evening, Adam caught sight of her. Clara, his mama, walked down the street bundled in a worn coat, her breath misting in the icy air. Adam’s heart leapt.

 "Mama!" he called out, his voice raw with emotion. He shuffled closer, the mechanical limbs hidden beneath his tattered cloak.

Clara turned, her eyes widening as she recognized the voice.

"Adam?" she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She ran toward him, her arms outstretched. "Oh, Adam! My boy, I’ve missed you so much."

She cupped his face, her hands trembling. "I’m so sorry. I never should have let them take you."

Adam’s heart swelled with joy.

"Mama," he said softly. "You still love me?"

"Of course, I love you," she said, smiling through her tears. "Come home with me. Please."

Overwhelmed with relief, Adam stepped forward, his mechanical legs emerging from the shadows. Clara’s smile froze. Her eyes darted down, taking in the grotesque appendages, and her face twisted in horror. She stumbled back, her hands flying to her mouth.

"Stay away from me!" she screamed, her voice sharp and panicked. "You’re a monster!"

Adam’s chest tightened, his voice trembling. "Mama, it’s still me. I’m still Adam. Please—"

"No!" she cried, backing away. "My brother was right. You’re not my son anymore. You’re a freak!"

Her words stabbed into him like knives, and as she turned and ran, Adam collapsed onto the cold, wet pavement. He watched her retreating form disappear into the night, his green eyes overflowing with tears. For the first time, Adam truly believed the world’s cruellest lie: that he was a monster.

“Mama!” Adam cried out, his voice cracking in desperation as his mechanical limbs scraped against the cobblestones. Rainwater pooled beneath him, chilling his exposed skin as he dragged his new, unwieldy body forward.

“Mama, please! It’s me!”

His heavy, spider-like legs clattered awkwardly, the sharp edges catching on broken bricks and discarded trash. He pushed through the pain, his mind spinning in confusion. Why had she run away? Why had her warm embrace turned to horror? He kept calling, his voice hoarse and shaking.

 “Mama, don’t go! Why are you running? What’s wrong with me?”

But she was gone, her footsteps lost in the sound of the night’s cold wind. Adam came to a halt, his body trembling as exhaustion took hold. He panted, the weight of his altered body bearing down on him. For the first time, a terrible thought crept into his mind: Am I… terrifying?

He turned his head slowly, and his breath hitched in his throat. In the cracked and dirt-smeared windows of the alleyway, he caught his reflection—and froze. His pale, gaunt face, streaked with tears, looked back at him. But beneath it, his body was something out of a waking nightmare. The twisted mechanical legs writhed like the limbs of a spider, their movements unnatural and jagged. The human-like mechanical arms dangled stiffly at his sides, their sharp joints clicking with every tiny motion.

Adam’s lips parted, a small, broken sound escaping him before it grew into a guttural scream. His cry echoed down the alleyway, raw and filled with anguish. He stumbled backward, his mechanical limbs tangling and twisting around one another. The reflection seemed to sneer at him, its grotesque form mocking his existence.

“No! No, no, no, no!” Adam screamed, clawing at his face as though he could tear away the monster he’d become.

He backed into a pile of trash bins, the loud clatter startling him, but he couldn’t stop. He fell into the heap, his body writhing as he tried to escape his reflection. His vision blurred, the alley spinning as tears clouded his eyes.

And then, amidst the chaos in his mind, he heard it.

Laughter.

At first, it was faint, like an echo from the farthest corners of the night. Then it grew louder, twisting into cruel murmurs that seemed to fill the alleyway. Adam’s eyes darted around, searching for the source, but there was no one. Yet the voices came closer, surrounding him, suffocating him.

“Look at it,” a voice sneered, sharp and cold.

“Such a hideous thing,” another whispered, mocking and vile.

Among the voices, he swore he heard Clara’s. Her gentle tones, now laced with disgust, hissed through the darkness. “That’s not my son. That’s not my Adam. He’s just a monster.”

“No! No, Mama, it’s not true!” Adam cried, clawing at the ground as if he could pull himself out of the nightmare. But the laughter only grew louder, the whispers more venomous.

The last thing he saw before his body gave out was the faint reflection of the monster in the window, its twisted limbs still moving as if alive on their own. His vision darkened, the noises fading into a distant hum as he collapsed fully into the trash heap. For the first time in a long time, unconsciousness claimed him—a mercy, a reprieve from the endless torment.

Adam awoke to the dim, grey light of early morning. Frost clung to the edges of the alley, and his breath came in shallow, visible puffs. The cold seeped into his skin, aching deep in his bones. He blinked slowly, his vision clearing to reveal the broken remains of the trash bins around him. His body ached, bruises blooming across his torso where his mechanical arms and legs had dug into him during his frantic movements.

He tried to move, but pain shot through him, forcing him to stop and gasp. He lay there for a long moment, the memories of the night before swirling in fragments. Laughter, whispers, the reflection in the window… His heart clenched as he thought of Clara, her scream of horror and the words that had crushed him.

But there was a fog in his mind, a haze that blurred the worst of it. He couldn’t quite piece together what had happened after he’d seen himself. Perhaps it was a blessing. Perhaps it was the only kindness the universe would grant him: the chance not to remember.

As the sun rose higher, Adam slowly pushed himself upright, his mechanical limbs clanking beneath him. The alley was silent now, but the chill in the air matched the emptiness he felt inside. His green eyes, dulled with grief, stared blankly ahead. There was no one waiting for him. No home to return to. No warmth left in the world.

For the first time, Adam realized he was truly, utterly alone and in so much agony that he couldn’t see straight…

~#~

Adam’s blurry vision struggled to adjust as he awoke again, the dim, watery light of early dawn piercing through the cardboard boxes that formed his makeshift shelter. His body ached—burning, twisting pain radiated from where the mechanical spider limbs connected to his small, frail frame. His arms trembled, the muscles raw and overused, while the grinding of his prosthetic appendages sent jolts of agony up his spine. Every movement was a reminder of his existence as a patchwork creature, a monster forced into a form not his own.

As he shifted, the faint, cruel laughter from a distant group echoed through the alleyway. He stifled a whimper and pressed himself further into the shadows, pulling a torn olive shawl closer around his body. The fabric, stained with rust and streaked with dried and fresh blood, clung to him like a second skin, hiding most of the horrors beneath. Yet, no matter how much he tried to cover himself, the grotesque clicking and buzzing of his mechanical limbs always betrayed him.

This time, though, something was different.

A shadow fell across the alleyway, long and unnervingly human, but twisted at the edges as if it didn’t quite belong. Adam’s button-green eyes blinked, staring at the figure emerging from the fog—a man clad entirely in black. His form was lanky, almost skeletal, with an impossibly tall top hat that added to his already looming presence. A feather striped in lime green and maroon jutted jauntily from the hat, swaying as he moved. His cloak, lined with vibrant green accents, swirled like smoke around his legs, which were clad in leather pants tucked into knee-high boots that clicked softly against the wet stones.

Adam squinted through his haze of fear and exhaustion, trying to make sense of the figure’s face, but it was shadowed beneath the brim of the hat. Only a pair of eyes, unnervingly sharp and glowing a vibrant lime green, pierced the darkness, their gaze locked onto him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Well, well, well,” the man said, his voice warm yet unnervingly buoyant, as though every word teetered on the edge of a laugh. His accent was unfamiliar, an odd melody of lilting tones and sharp consonants that Adam couldn’t place.

“What have we here? The infamous spider monster of the alleyway. My, my… the stories didn’t do you justice.”

Adam froze, his limbs locking in place. The man’s gaze swept over him, lingering on his mechanical appendages. He whistled low and slow, crouching slightly to better inspect Adam’s hunched form. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like this before. You’re a marvel, my boy—a true masterpiece of horror and ingenuity.”

Adam flinched, his shoulders hunching as he tried to shrink back further into the darkness. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice cracked, and the words died in his throat.

The man raised a hand, waving dismissively. “Ah, no need to speak! It’s fine, really. Don’t strain yourself. I’ll do the talking.”

His grin widened, teeth flashing unnaturally white in the gloom. “I’ve heard all about you, you know. The monster that lurks in the shadows, kidnaps children, and haunts the nightmares of this miserable little town. Quite the reputation, eh?”

Adam’s eyes widened, and he whined softly, shaking his head in protest. The man chuckled, the sound low and rich, like a cat purring after a cruel joke. “Oh, I know it’s all rubbish. A load of bollocks, isn’t it? People love their scary stories. Makes their mundane lives feel a little less dull.”

He tilted his head, his grin softening, though the glow of his lime-green eyes remained sharp. “But I couldn’t help myself. I had to see the ‘monster’ for myself. Imagine my surprise when I discovered… you.”

Adam stared at him in confusion, his button eyes reflecting the faint light.

The man straightened, clasping his hands together in exaggerated delight. “You’re Adam, aren’t you? The boy from Cowshuff Circus—the little crawler who used to scuttle across the stage for the crowd’s amusement? Oh, yes, I’ve heard the stories. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Adam recoiled slightly, a sharp cough escaping him as the man’s breath—strange and sickly sweet, like overripe fruit—wafted too close. His limbs clattered as he tried to pull away, but the man only laughed again, his voice tinged with childlike glee.

“I want you to join my circus,” the man declared suddenly, throwing his arms wide. “The Hazbin Circus! It’s going to be the most spectacular, shocking, dazzling show the world has ever seen, and you, my dear boy, will be its first star. The first Hazbin! How exciting is that?”

Adam said nothing, his silence more telling than words. He stared at the man with an expression that hovered between disbelief and exhaustion.

The man’s grin faltered slightly, and he crouched again, this time meeting Adam’s gaze on his level. His voice dropped; the cheerful tone replaced by something softer, almost tender.

“What do you want, Adam? Tell me. What is it you truly want?”

Adam blinked slowly; his button eyes glossy with unshed tears. He hesitated, his voice cracking as he finally whispered, “I… I want to go home. I want the pain to stop.”

The man tilted his head thoughtfully, his grin creeping back onto his face. “Ah, yes. The pain. Of course.”

He stood suddenly, clapping his hands together. “We can work something out. You perform for me—just one show, maybe two—and I’ll take away the pain. And as for going home… we’ll see about that. What do you say?”

Adam tilted his head, his mechanical limbs shifting uneasily beneath him.

“You… can make the pain stop?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“Absolutely,” the man said, his grin splitting his face in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. “Trust me. Just come to my Hazbin Hotel—well, mansion, really—by dawn. It’s where all the magic happens.”

Before Adam could ask more, the man turned, sweeping his cloak around him as he strode to the alley’s exit.

“I am your new ringmaster, Zestial,” he called over his shoulder, tipping his hat. “It will be my pleasure to assist you.”

The building loomed before Adam like a sleeping giant, its spires piercing the ashen sky. He felt insignificant, an insect scuttling beneath its oppressive shadow. Towering and labyrinthine, the mansion seemed to shift as he stared, its silhouette flickering with an almost predatory stillness. Thousands of glassy windows stared back at him, cold and unblinking. On the left, the panes shimmered with vivid, kaleidoscopic colors, a cascade of stained glass depicting fragmented, unknowable scenes. The right wing was a stark contrast—its tall, arched windows shielded by intricate Victorian iron bars, as though guarding secrets too terrible to escape.

It was a house out of one of his mama’s storybooks, a fairytale palace draped in magic and menace. Six floors stretched upward, each crowned with mismatched tiled roofs, the central section morphing into a towering clock face that ticked solemnly, its hands crawling forward like prisoners of time. Above it, a thin bell tower rose into the mist, its enormous brass bell swinging with each deep, resonant chime that rippled through the gardens like a command. The sound didn’t just fill the air—it seemed to seep into Adam’s bones, vibrating against his mechanical limbs as if urging him closer.

Sprawling gardens encircled the mansion, like sirens beckoning him to explore. The front garden was a sea of ruby-red roses, their petals so vivid they seemed to bleed into the night. They were unnervingly perfect, not a single leaf out of place, their thorns glistening as though freshly sharpened. For a fleeting moment, Adam was captivated. He wanted to see more—the other gardens, the hidden corners of this enchanting, ominous estate—but the sharp tug of his mechanical prosthetics snapped him back to reality. The weight of the monstrous appendages dragged at his thin body, their grinding and clicking a constant reminder of the unnatural pain tethered to his every step.

Exhausted, Adam dragged himself toward the double doors. Each scrape of his spider-like limbs across the pale stone echoed unnaturally in the cold air, the sound a metallic scream that seemed swallowed by the mansion’s silence. His mechanical hands, jittering with every motion, reached for the ornate rose-carved handles. The glass within the doors shimmered faintly, its surface etched with thorny vines and blooming roses that almost seemed to shift under his touch.

He hesitated, staring up at the doors. His shawl, once a deep olive, was now a ragged patchwork of rust and bloodstains, draped over his battered form. Beneath it, layers of filthy, yellowed bandages clung to his limbs, wrapping him like a grotesque gift. They hid the worst of him—the jagged scars, the wounds that never seemed to heal—but they couldn’t hide the spools of white thread embedded in his back, tiny reminders of the puppet-like horror he had become. He didn’t dare look too closely at himself; even the faintest glimpse of his reflection sent a shiver of revulsion through his body.

The pain was always there, a cruel symphony of burning nerves and grinding joints that turned every breath into an effort. His insides churned, twisting as if they were being wrung dry by unseen hands, but Adam had learned to endure. What other choice did he have?

Summoning the last of his strength, he knocked on the rose-carved door. His mechanical hand struck the wood with a dull, rattling thud. Nothing. Silence greeted him, stretching longer than seemed natural. He lifted his hand again, only for the door to groan open on its own, the sound like a sigh from the house itself.

The air inside the mansion was cooler, heavier, as if the building was alive and breathing around him. Unlike the rose-themed exterior, the welcome lounge was a shrine to the moon. Deep purples and shimmering blues dominated the space, painting the room in a twilight haze. The walls were adorned with murals of night skies and crescent moons that seemed to shift when Adam wasn’t looking directly at them. Stars glittered faintly in the painted voids, their soft glow mirrored by the crystal chandeliers that hung precariously from above, dripping with silver and glass like frozen tears.

The floor was obsidian, polished to a mirror-like shine that reflected distorted fragments of Adam’s spider-like limbs as he hesitantly stepped forward. A grand staircase dominated the far side of the room, its banisters carved from ebony and inlaid with glowing lunar motifs that pulsed faintly as he approached. Velvet drapes framed the tall windows, their fabric swaying ever so slightly despite the air being still. It was beautiful, hauntingly so, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air, an invisible weight pressing down on Adam’s shoulders.

His mechanical appendages buzzed and whirred, their noise jarring against the stillness of the room. Each sound seemed louder, sharper here, as though the mansion amplified it to remind him of what he was. Adam froze, unsure if he should move further. The room felt like it was waiting—watching. He didn’t belong here, that much was certain, but Zestial had told him to come.

The man’s words echoed in his mind as he stepped cautiously into the lounge, the faint, unnatural hum of the mansion’s air pressing against his ears. Each step was delicate, his movements slow and deliberate, as though one wrong move might awaken something he couldn’t face. And yet, despite the unease that crawled over his skin, there was a strange pull to the place—a magic he couldn’t ignore, one that whispered promises too tempting to resist.

Adam wobbled further into the dimly lit lounge, the soft hum of his mechanical limbs a steady reminder of the unnatural state of his existence. Each step sent a jolt of pain radiating through his fragile frame, yet the beauty of the place urged him onward. The small corridor widened, its walls narrowing and then blooming into an expansive space that took his breath away.

At the centre of the room stood a round table carved from dark, polished wood, its surface gleaming faintly in the faint moonlight streaming through the high arched windows. On either side of the table, grand spiral staircases wound upward, their twisting forms like frozen whirlpools of dark iron and lacquered oak. The intricate railings above formed a fence of smooth wooden beams, each panel bearing carvings of the moon’s phases. Crescent, full, waning, waxing—their intricate designs seemed to shimmer with a faint glow. Adam imagined how moonlight or sunlight filtering through the upper windows might cast enchanting patterns across the room below, making it a shifting, celestial dance of shadows and light.

As Adam neared the table, the faint scent of flowers reached him, a soft, earthy contrast to the mechanical oil and rust he had grown used to. His green button eyes fell upon a delicate vase resting at the table's centre. It was slender and graceful, made of deep blue glass that caught and refracted the light like trapped starlight. Arranged within it were six flowers, each striking in its solitary beauty: a dahlia with layered, jewel-toned petals; a cheerful, golden sunflower; a marigold that burned like embers; a drooping bluebell, quiet yet captivating; a clematis vine with its elegant, twining stems; and the black bat flower—dark, unsettling, and impossibly alluring.

The flowers seemed placed with intention; their vibrant petals almost glowing against the dim surroundings. Adam stared at them in silent awe, a pang of something he couldn’t name tugging at him. They meant something. He didn’t know how he knew that, but it was certain. The colours, the arrangement—it was no random decoration. It whispered a story he couldn’t yet decipher.

One of his mechanical arms twitched and jerked as he reached out, the movement accompanied by a harsh clinking sound. He stopped abruptly, his eyes catching on a series of faintly scratched words along the base of the vase. Tilting his head, Adam squinted, his green button eyes narrowing as he struggled to read the inscription.

The dahlia is a dancer.

Adam’s gaze lingered on the dahlia’s layered petals, their vibrant colours fanning out like the skirts of a performer mid-twirl. It exuded elegance, artistry, and grace, a flower that could only belong to someone who danced with their soul.

The sunflower, a happy clown.

He traced the sunflower’s cheerful face with his gaze, its bright yellow petals bursting outward like a painted grin. It radiated joy, a beacon of laughter and light, reminding him of the clowns who once brought audiences to tears of mirth.

The bluebell, a sad clown.

Adam’s gaze fell to the drooping bluebell. Its soft, melancholy shape tugged at him, its quiet, understated beauty carrying a sorrowful weight. It spoke of hidden sadness, of smiles that masked pain.

Clematis, an acrobat.

The vine twisted and curved, its structure effortlessly elegant. It climbed and reached as though in defiance of gravity, much like the acrobats who once defied the odds, bending and contorting themselves in graceful displays of agility.

The marigold, a lion tamer.

The fiery marigold stood out, its bold hues suggesting a courage Adam had only ever seen in tamers who dared face the ferocity of beasts. Its brightness felt like a challenge to the dark, a fierce defiance.

Adam’s gaze faltered as he reached the final flower.

The black bat flower, a spider crawler.

His lips trembled as he read the words, biting down hard to silence a whimper. The strange, spidery petals of the black bat flower with its long, filaments resembled something out of a nightmare. Its dark, unsettling beauty spoke of creatures that lurked in shadows, creeping with unnatural grace. It was him. It was what he had become.

He froze, his breath caught in his throat as a heavy silence settled around him. The flowers were no accident. Each was a role, a story. They were meant to be here, just as he was, and yet they felt like a judgment—an accusation. His trembling arm retreated, the mechanical joints clinking loudly as he pulled it back.

He stared at the black bat flower, the shadow of its petals stretching like claws across the polished wood of the table. Something deep inside him stirred, a cold, inescapable truth. He was the monster of this story, the spider crawling at the edge of the stage. And no flower could mask that.

The round table was draped in a ghostly, netted fabric, its edges fraying like cobwebs in the dim light. Arranged upon it in a perfect half-moon arc were six keys, each adorned with a delicate flower charm. They gleamed faintly, like tiny fragments of secrets bound to the unnatural air of the mansion. Adam’s green button eyes zeroed in on the black bat flower key almost instantly. His breath hitched as a deep, hollow ache settled in his chest. He didn’t want it—he knew it was his. It was always meant to be his.

Adam’s mechanical arms jerked as he tried to reach for it, their grinding and clanking loud in the oppressive silence. He froze mid-motion, a sharp grunt escaping his lips as a surge of pain shot through his frail body. His face twisted into a grimace, tears stinging his eyes. His nerves felt like they were on fire, the pain relentless, an unending torment that made his very existence unbearable. He sniffled softly, his chest heaving, the urge to collapse into the darkened corners clawing at him.

“Zestial promised,” Adam thought desperately, clutching at the thin thread of hope. “He promised the pain would stop if I came here. If I performed in his circus... If I did what he wanted.”

Zestial had promised him something else, too—he would send Adam home. But the pain... The pain was still there, alive and writhing under his skin like a thousand needles.

His spider-like prosthetic legs trembled, buckling under him, until at last he crumpled to the cold, hard floor before the table. A strangled wail tore from his throat, echoing in the vast emptiness of the room. He bowed his head, his button eyes squeezed shut against the endless, gnawing agony.

Then something rolled off the table above him. It struck the crown of his head with a hollow thunk and bounced to the ground. Adam flinched and let out a pitiful whimper, his mechanical hand awkwardly rubbing the sore spot. He glanced down and froze.

A bottle.

It was large and heavy, its smooth surface split into stark halves of white and black. Strange, unreadable words spiralled around its surface, but Adam’s focus was immediately drawn to a single detail: a medical sticker plastered on the side. His name was printed there, bold and unmistakable.

Adam.

The sight of it made his blood run cold. His throat tightened as he picked the bottle up, turning it over and over in his hands. It was for him? How could it be for him? His spider-like limbs clinked and wobbled as he forced himself upright, his body trembling with the effort. On the table now, two pieces of paper caught his eye—one crisp and ornate, the other small and yellowed. Adam frowned, his gaze flickering between the bottle and the yellowed scrap of paper before his mechanical hand reached out to grasp it.

The note was short and simple, but the words sent an icy shiver down his spine.

‘Adam,

Take three pills in the morning and in the evening. It will take the pain away. You can take them with or without food or water.

Oh, and another thing Adam. Let’s keep the pills between just the two of us. We wouldn’t want anyone finding out about them.

Signed, Zestial.’

Adam stared at the note, his lips trembling. His hands shook as he folded the paper, sliding it into the hidden recesses of his tattered shawl. With hesitant fingers, he shook the bottle, the sound of rattling pills echoing like tiny bones in a crypt. The lid was stiff, refusing to yield at first, until his prosthetic hand managed to wrench it free. Three pills spilled onto his palm, their yellow colour sickly and unnatural. He brought them closer, sniffing cautiously, but they gave off no scent.

The constant, gnawing pain in his body left him with no room for doubt. What else did he have to lose? Slowly, almost ritualistically, Adam tipped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. The taste was nothing, the act mechanical. He waited.

Seconds passed. Then minutes.

Nothing.

The pain still raged through him, as relentless as before. His body burned, his joints ached, and his veins felt like they were filled with shards of ice. Adam whimpered, clutching the bottle to his chest as though it might offer him solace. Zestial had said the pills would work. They had to. Maybe by tomorrow, he’d wake up without the pain. Maybe by morning, he would be whole again.

Shoving the bottle into one of the many hidden pockets in his shawl, Adam’s gaze fell back to the black bat flower key. He reached for it with trembling hands, the charm’s delicate petals stark against the crude, jagged edges of his prosthetics. The key itself was strange, its shape irregular and unsettling, as if it had been carved from something ancient and half-forgotten. He chewed his bottom lip nervously, the sharp taste of blood faint on his tongue.

A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over Adam, gripping him with an invisible force. His knees buckled slightly as he staggered sideways, one mechanical hand rising to clutch his head. His spider-like prosthetic legs scraped and skittered against the polished floor, struggling to anchor him upright. The mansion’s lounge twisted and spun around him, a disorienting kaleidoscope of deep purples, blues, and glinting moonlight patterns. He wobbled unsteadily, bumping into the left staircase with a sharp clang.

Adam let out a soft, pained whine, his green button eyes fluttering as he fought to steady his vision. For a moment, it felt as though the world might slip away entirely, dragging him down into an abyss he feared he would not escape. But slowly, the spinning ceased, the edges of his sight sharpened, and the looming sense of vertigo ebbed.

Breathing heavily, Adam sniffed, a flicker of relief breaking through his panic as he glanced around the room. Everything seemed to have returned to normal. Or so it seemed.

That fragile sense of relief shattered in an instant.

The string-like hairs on Adam’s patched and scarred skin prickled with sudden unease. The air in the room turned cold, and an eerie creak cut through the silence. His gaze snapped toward the double rose-themed doors just as they began to groan and shift, their intricate glass panes glowing faintly in the dim light.

They moved.

On their own.

Adam’s breath hitched, and a gasp escaped his lips. His mechanical limbs jerked into motion, dragging his weary frame toward the darkened space beneath the staircase. Desperation clawed at him as he pressed himself into the shadows, his heart hammering like a drumbeat against his ribcage. He huddled there, his stitched shawl brushing the floor, as the doors swung open with deliberate slowness, revealing...

A figure.

Slim and lithe, the figure stepped through the doorway with an air of quiet surprise. They paused, one hand resting on the rose-carved handle, tilting their head as they regarded the peculiar way the doors had opened.

“Huh,” the figure muttered softly, the sound rich and lilting, sending a shiver down Adam’s spine. They tested the handle, wiggling it experimentally. “I wonder what trick this is.”

Adam stared, his button eyes wide and unblinking.

The figure appeared to be a man, though his appearance was far from ordinary. His skin was smooth and pale, almost porcelain-like, with rosy cheeks that seemed to glow faintly under the cold light. His hair—stingy yet soft-looking—was a peculiar combination of pale blonde and coral streaks, slicked back into a ducktail hairstyle with one playful tuft rebelliously sticking out.

But it was his eyes that ensnared Adam. They were unlike anything he had ever seen: light yellow on the outer edges, but fading into a deep, burning red at their centers. The strange, fiery hues radiated an unearthly beauty that made Adam’s chest ache, though he could not say why.

The man’s mouth, however, was something out of a nightmare. His lips were stitched at the corners with white thread, the stitches pulling his mouth into a wide, almost mocking smile. Behind that unsettling grin, Adam caught a glimpse of sharp teeth, glinting like tiny daggers.

His clothing was no less strange—a jumpsuit adorned with chaotic diamonds in bold reds, yellows, blues, and blacks. Around his neck was a grand Elizabethan ruff, as white as freshly fallen snow, and his wrists were framed with frilly cuffs. A leather belt cinched his waist, a small pouch resting on one side. Something about him suggested danger, a trickster’s chaos barely contained beneath the flamboyant attire.

Yet, despite the eeriness of his stitched smile, his eyes held a flicker of something else curiosity, perhaps. Or mischief.

Adam swallowed hard, the noise audibles even to his own ears. He’d seen doll-like figures before, plastered on posters and advertisements. They had grinned from cracked television screens, promising thrills and wonders in the hazy neon glow of carnival lights. But this man—this doll person—was real. And he was here.

And Adam? Adam was nothing special. He wasn’t a doll, wasn’t a marvel of craftsmanship. He was a monster now—stitched together, broken, twisted into something barely human.

The figure’s yellow-red eyes flicked toward the staircase, scanning the shadows with a precision that sent Adam’s heart into his throat. It felt as though those eyes might pierce the darkness, find him cowering like a wounded animal, and drag him into the light.

“I know you’re there,” the man said softly, his voice a silken thread that wove through the air with unnatural ease.

Adam froze, every nerve in his body screaming at him to stay silent, stay hidden. But his mechanical limbs betrayed him, releasing a faint, telltale whir.

The doll man’s lips curled into a sharper smile, his stitches tugging slightly.

“Come now,” he coaxed, his tone a playful melody tinged with something darker. “Hiding doesn’t suit you. And besides—”

He crouched low, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “I don’t bite.”

He paused, then chuckled, the sound low and disarming. “Well, not unless you ask.”

Adam trembled, his spider limbs clicking nervously against the cold stone floor. He didn’t know whether to run or crawl forward. Every instinct in him screamed for flight, but something in the man’s tone... something in the way he spoke...

It felt as though the man were a part of this place, an extension of its strange, surreal beauty. And for reasons Adam couldn’t explain, a part of him wanted to know what would happen if he stepped into the light.

Adam drew in a shaky breath, the weight of inevitability settling over him like a damp shroud. There was no point in hiding now—the doll man had already spotted him, his strange, burning eyes scanning the shadows with unnerving precision. Resigned, Adam’s gaze fell to his own form, his patched-together frame a grotesque patchwork of scars, wires, and the mechanical limbs that whirred softly at his sides. A swell of dread churned in his chest. Would this man—no, this legend—be repulsed by him? Would he recoil, disgust etched into his too-perfect face?

Steeling himself, Adam’s spider-like limbs clicked against the floor as he began inching forward, his movements halting and unsteady. The mechanical joints released a faint hum with every step, a sound that seemed deafening in the vast, silent lounge. Slowly, he emerged from the shadows, his green button eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to meet the doll man’s gaze.

As he stepped into the light, a dreadful realization sank in, cold and heavy.

This wasn’t just anyone.

It was Lucifer Morningstar.

The name hit Adam like a slap, and for a moment, his legs threatened to give way beneath him. Lucifer Morningstar—star of the Hullabaloo Circus, a name spoken with reverence and awe across the circuit. He was a dazzling performer, famed for his silk-blond hair and infectious charm, a man whose blue button eyes had never betrayed an ounce of sorrow despite the horrors he’d survived. After the disaster that destroyed the Hullabaloo Circus, Lucifer had become a legend, a tragic figure whose sole purpose was to find the one responsible for the devastation of his home.

And now, he was standing here, in the Hazbin Circus.

Adam felt small. Worthless. He was no one, just a broken thing cobbled together by desperation and pain. Compared to Lucifer, he didn’t belong here. And yet, there was no turning back now.

Lucifer’s button eyes widened slightly as Adam stepped fully into view. There was no immediate revulsion on his face, but Adam kept his gaze firmly averted, unwilling to risk meeting the other man’s fiery stare.

“M-my name is Adam,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, strained and trembling with uncertainty. “I’ve heard a lot about you, M-Mister Morningstar, and, um...”

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. He shuffled one foot against the carpet, the faint scrapes an oddly human gesture from someone so otherworldly.

“Oh, Adam,” he murmured, as if tasting the name on his tongue. His voice was melodic, a strange mixture of curiosity and detached amusement. “What... what are you doing here?”

Adam hesitated, forcing himself to glance up at Lucifer’s face. The doll man’s expression wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t warm either. It was as if he was weighing something about Adam, a calculation hidden behind those bright, stitched features.

“Ah, um... I-I’m... flattered?” Adam muttered, fumbling for the words. “The host invited me to... uh...”

He trailed off, his nerves catching up to him. The reality of why he was here pressed down like a lead weight: he had to perform. To survive. To escape this pain that gnawed at him endlessly.

Lucifer arched a brow, his curiosity sharpening. “Honoured to perform, are we?”

Adam nodded quickly, his movements jerky. “Y-yes... that’s right. I was... invited to join the Hazbin Circus.”

His voice faltered, but he pressed on. “Um, this was left f-for us... this play for us. I haven’t had a chance to fully read it yet, but it—it’s on the table. M-maybe we could prepare together? I-I mean...”

Before Adam could finish, Lucifer turned sharply on his heel, striding toward the table with a grace that seemed almost theatrical. He snatched up the parchment and unfurled it, his mismatched button eyes scanning the inked words with an intensity that made Adam’s chest tighten.

“Five children go to the park,” Lucifer read aloud, his voice tinged with an edge of intrigue. “They arrive excited but leave with long faces.”

He lowered the parchment, glancing at Adam with a wry smile. “This is certainly... interesting. But, you see, it’s already quite late.”

Adam nodded automatically, his voice small. “Of course, of course... t-tomorrow, perhaps?”

Lucifer held the parchment out to him, his expression thoughtful. “Adam, this play needs at least five actors. There are only two of us here. We can’t hope to perform it alone.”

Adam’s hands trembled slightly as he took the parchment, his green button eyes skimming the cryptic words. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible. “They’ll come. Someone will come. Why don’t we wait until everyone is here?”

Lucifer hummed softly, plucking a matchbox from the table. He struck a match with practiced ease, lighting the candles one by one. As the flickering flames illuminated the space, his gaze fell to the vase of flowers at the table’s centre. He pinched the clematis flower between his fingers, scoffing softly.

“Useless,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to the room. Picking up a freshly lit candle, he wandered past Adam, his curiosity piqued by the sprawling mansion.

“I plan to explore this place tomorrow,” Lucifer said, his tone lighter, almost playful. “We’ve never lived in such a grand place before, have we?”

“That’s true... M-Mister Morningstar,” Adam stammered, glancing at him nervously.

Lucifer turned back, fixing him with an amused smile.

“It’s Lucifer,” he corrected gently. ���You can call me Lucifer.”

He gestured toward the parchment in Adam’s hands. “If you’re not interested in a tour, why not pick a role and practice? The last child... that one would suit you.”

Adam’s gaze dropped to the parchment again, the inked words swimming before his tired eyes. The final role did seem... easier. Less time in the spotlight. Less time for others to laugh at him.

Lucifer bowed slightly, his movements as graceful as a dancer’s. “Good night, Adam. It was nice to meet you.”

Adam’s heart clenched painfully.

“N-nice to meet you too,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as Lucifer turned and ascended the stairs.

Before disappearing from sight, Lucifer glanced back one last time, bowing fully with the flair of a true star.

“Good night, Adam,” he said softly, his voice lingering like the fading notes of a lullaby.

“G-good night, M-Mister Morningstar—uh, I mean... Lucifer,” Adam whispered, watching until the doll man vanished into the shadows above, leaving him alone once more in the cavernous lounge.

Adam waited in the heavy silence, his eyes fixed on the faint golden glow of Lucifer’s candle as it flickered out of sight. Only when the last glimmer disappeared did he let out a trembling breath, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Every inch of his patched-together body ached, a dull, gnawing pain that never let him rest. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, to sink into unconsciousness and hope that, by morning, the relentless burn and throb would ease.

But instead, his gaze fell back to the parchment on the table. The script. Their script. Zestial’s instructions were clear—this was the play they were to perform. Adam reread the lines, his mechanical limbs softly humming as he leaned closer. The final child. That role was a mirror of his reality—a figure twisted by their reflection, monstrous and malformed. It was a role meant for someone like him, someone grotesque, someone who belonged in the shadows.

And yet...

Adam’s button eyes lingered on the description of the paired children. Childhood lovers, their bond unbroken even in the face of darkness. Something deep within him ached, an unspoken wish clawing to the surface. He wanted that. Not the ridicule, not the disgust, but the tender devotion those characters shared. It was a foolish hope—he was no romantic lead, no beloved figure worthy of affection.

He whimpered softly, lowering his head in shame. What was he even thinking? Dreams like that weren’t for creatures like him. The final child, the broken one—that was his fate. It always had been.

The sound of a voice startled him, soft and almost hesitant.

“Excuse me? Is anybody here?”

Adam’s whole body jerked, his mechanical legs clumsily skittering as he scrambled away from the table. His limbs caught on the carpet, and he nearly toppled over in his rush to hide. He glanced toward the rose-themed doors just as they closed with an ominous thud, revealing a slender figure standing in the entryway.

A doll.

She was breathtaking, her pale porcelain skin glowing faintly in the dim candlelight. Golden, thread-like hair cascaded down her back, braided neatly to her ankles. Her large button eyes, cross-stitched with fine black thread, glimmered with an eerie depth. Mascara streaked her cheeks like faint tears, and her lips, painted in a soft pink, curved in a delicate expression of surprise. She wore a rich purple-and-pink fur coat, a coral pink leotard with intricate golden details, and satin slippers laced with gold trim. Yet her beauty was marred, her left forearm and right leg torn to reveal cotton stuffing spilling from within.

The moment their eyes met, her button eyes widened in fright. She released a shaky breath and stepped back, her movements halting and uncertain.

Adam froze, panic clawing at his chest. He tried to retreat further, but his mechanical limbs betrayed him, bumping against the table and sending the vase of flowers tumbling to the floor. He let out a broken whine, fumbling desperately to gather them up. His trembling hands and erratic limbs made the task nearly impossible.

To his shock, the doll did not flee.

Instead, she stepped forward, crouching gracefully to help. Her movements were delicate, as though she feared breaking something fragile. She picked up the fallen flowers and gently placed them back into the vase.

“I know you,” she said softly, her voice like a faint melody as she stood. She adjusted the vase carefully before turning her gaze back to Adam. “We met once, at Cowshuff Circus.”

Adam blinked, his green button eyes widening as the memory stirred, faint but familiar. His voice was hesitant, barely audible. “L-Lilith?”

Her expression didn’t soften. There was no smile, no spark of warmth. Instead, she raised a slender hand and pointed at him with a slow, deliberate motion. “You scared me, Adam.”

Her gaze swept over his mechanical body, lingering on the awkward joints and exposed wires. She took a cautious step back.

Turning her attention to the table, her eyes landed on the flower keys arranged neatly across its surface. She picked up the dahlia key and held it delicately.

“Adam,” she said, her voice quiet yet steady, “Were you also invited to perform?”

Adam swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

“Y-yes, I was. The h-host left this play for us to follow...” He held out the parchment with trembling hands.

Lilith—or was it still Lilith?—took the script carefully, holding it near one of the lit candles to read. “They want to ride the roller coaster, but there are only four seats...” she murmured, her stitched brows knitting together. “This is the play the host wants us to perform?”

Adam nodded again, his voice thin and anxious. “Y-yes... I think so. I was just trying to familiarize myself with the parts.”

A faint frown touched her lips. She tapped the edge of the parchment thoughtfully. “Hmm. It reads like a folk rhyme. For it to become a real play, we’ll need to adapt it... carefully.”

Adam’s breath hitched. “O-oh, it’s such an honour, Lilith.”

His mind flickered with fragmented memories from his time at Fred’s Circus—half-forgotten faces, endless ridicule, and the suffocating dark of the storage trunks where he was locked away. But he remembered her. Lilith. She and her partner had once visited Fred’s Circus. He’d never met her partner, but Lilith herself had been dazzling, kind even. When they left without joining, Fred had been in a foul rage, taking his anger out on Adam with brutal kicks and curses.

Lilith’s button eyes darted back to the table. “Has someone not arrived yet?”

Adam followed her gaze, his voice soft. “Um... y-yes. There’s still one more key, but... there are six flowers in the vase. I-I think two people might have arrived before me.”

She tilted her head, muttering something under her breath.

Adam blinked, leaning forward slightly. “Um, d-did you say something, Lilith?”

She shook her head, handing the parchment back to him. “It’s nothing. Just a thought. Let me consider how we can arrange all of this.”

Without another word, she turned and began climbing the staircase.

“G-good night, Lilith,” Adam called weakly.

She paused halfway up, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Adam, by the way... I am now called Margara, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Adam’s mechanical legs shifted nervously. “Y-yes, Margara... W-what a beautiful name. Just as pretty as Lilith... G-good night.”

Margara nodded once before continuing up the stairs. Adam watched her until she disappeared into the shadowed landing, the faint sound of her steps fading into silence.

And he was alone again.

Adam was alone again. The silence of the lounge pressed in around him, cold and suffocating. Lucifer and Lilith—no, Margara—had been kind to him. At least, kinder than most. They hadn’t hit him. They hadn’t kicked him. But Adam wasn’t naive; he had seen it in their button eyes—the flickers of judgment, the hints of disgust, the undertones of fear. It always lingered, no matter how polite their words were.

He turned his gaze to the table where the final key still lay untouched, its glimmer a quiet reminder that someone else was meant to join them. Adam squirmed uneasily, his mechanical limbs clicking softly as they shifted. His green button eyes flicked to the staircases, looming and grand, and then down to the metal spider-like appendages attached to his frail, patchwork body.

There was no way.

The stairs were impossible for someone like him. His oversized, grotesque anatomy would never fit, let alone allow him to ascend. The thought of struggling halfway up, only to get stuck, made his chest tighten with dread. His buttons glistened as tears welled up, spilling over in hot, silent trails. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the hulking mass of metal fused to him, its polished, unyielding form so alien, so hideous.

Once, he had been small. Fragile, yes, but whole. Human. Now, he was a monstrous thing, stitched together with wires and screws. A mockery of what he used to be. His body, once his own, had become a cage.

A soft, broken whimper escaped his lips as he sniffled, dragging himself forward. The lounge was vast, its towering shadows swallowing him whole. He scuttled awkwardly, the mechanical legs clinking and scraping against the floor as he moved toward one of the massive doorframes. He peeked through, but it was pitch black beyond—a void.

Of course, he couldn’t see in the dark. His grotesque transformation hadn’t granted him any spider-like abilities. Not that he would have wanted that, anyway.

Adam twisted back, his gaze returning to the staircases. The left one caught his eye, its shadowy alcove revealing another door. Maybe... just maybe.

Dragging himself closer, he leaned his weight against the door, testing it with his shoulder. The wooden frame groaned but gave way, sliding open just enough to reveal a narrow, cramped storage cupboard. The faint smell of dust and old wood met his nose, and the shadows inside seemed less daunting than the abyss beyond the larger doors.

The space was small—just enough to hold a few boxes and scattered odds and ends. It would be tight, suffocating even, but it was better than risking the stairs. Better than being found stuck in the morning, humiliated and helpless.

Adam inhaled deeply, steadying himself, and began squeezing his bulk into the cupboard. The mechanical limbs scraped and folded awkwardly as he maneuverer himself inside. At last, he managed to turn around, lying down as best as he could. He crossed the sharp, mechanical arms over his chest and rested his head atop them, his shiny, tear-streaked green buttons reflecting the faint sliver of moonlight spilling through the small window above.

The moon was beautiful, shimmering like a beacon in the darkness. Adam stared at it, his thoughts drifting to another time, another place. He had grown used to sleeping in tight spaces—dumpsters, alleys, cardboard boxes—but this felt heavier somehow. The weight of the silence, of his monstrous body, pressed down on him like never before.

His throat tightened as he sniffled, a quiet sound that barely broke the stillness. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be this. The thought of home crept into his mind—his real home.

‘Mama... will you still love me?’

His voice trembled in his head as he fought back the sobs rising in his chest. Would she accept him? Would she still see the boy he used to be beneath the layers of metal and despair?

Adam’s eyes grew heavy, the overwhelming exhaustion finally overtaking him. As his mind began to slip into restless dreams, a single tear slid down his porcelain cheek, pooling where it fell. The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was the moonlight, a fleeting comfort in the suffocating dark.

Whining softly, Adam stirred as a sliver of light streamed through the cupboard’s tiny window, landing on his face. His button eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented, but it wasn’t just the light that had roused him—it was the voices.

Raised voices.

Nearly arguing.

“See? I told you! Most people might miss this performance, but not our superstar, Lilith! Oh wait—sorry, it’s Margaretha now, isn’t it?” Lucifer’s mocking tone rang through the space, sharp as a blade.

Adam blinked, his curiosity piqued and his heart pounding. What was happening? His head lifted slightly, the dull ache in his mechanical limbs momentarily forgotten as he strained to hear.

“Running off again, Lilith?” Lucifer’s voice rose, dripping with accusation and scorn.

“That’s all over now, Morningstar!” snapped a sharp voice from above—the unmistakable edge of Lilith, though the anger in her tone made her sound almost unrecognizable. “Move on, like the rest of us! Stop clinging to the past!”

Lucifer released a sharp, humourless laugh, bitter and venomous.

“No. It won’t ever end, you shameful liars, deserters—” He paused, his voice a venomous hiss. “Murderers.”

The word struck like a thunderclap, reverberating in the silence that followed.

A door slammed upstairs, rattling the walls. Adam jumped at the sound, his mechanical legs clinking noisily against the wooden floor of the cupboard as he scrambled to steady himself. His breath hitched, his entire body stiffening with fear.

The tension in the air was suffocating. He dared not move, afraid to draw attention to his hiding place. What was Lucifer talking about? Liars, deserters, murderers. The words repeated in his mind, icy tendrils of unease wrapping around his thoughts. He’d always known something terrible had happened at Hullabaloo, but this? Could Margaretha—Lilith—have been part of that same catastrophe?

“Hmph,” Lucifer’s voice broke the silence again, colder now, almost distant. “Same as ever, Joker. Always lurking in the shadows, aren’t you?”

A soft hum came from across the lounge, and a voice Adam didn’t recognize—delicate, feminine—spoke hesitantly. “You... you shouldn’t speak to her like that. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Adam froze, his button eyes widening in curiosity. Who was that?

“Oh?” Lucifer’s tone twisted, laced with mocking incredulity. “And what should I call her then? A charlatan? A deserter? Or perhaps...”

“Don’t.”

The stranger’s voice cut him off, firm but low, trembling with restrained anger. “She’s none of those things. Don’t call her those names!”

Lucifer exhaled sharply, a sigh of frustration. “Joker—or should I say Eve? I understand she’s your friend, but—”

“She’s not just my friend!” Joker—Eve?—interjected fiercely, her voice trembling but resolute. “I wasn’t there, Lucifer! Steve sent me out that day for procurement. You knew that! It was Sentience Day—my presence wasn’t needed there. You can’t put this on me!”

Adam squinted through the crack in the cupboard door, his curiosity overtaking his fear. From the shadows, he could just make out the speaker: a petite female doll standing stiffly, her posture defensive.

She was unlike anyone Adam had seen before. Her pale skin bore scuffs and stitches, her tangled red curls spilling in chaotic waves. A single tear of black mascara streaked her cheek, her grey button eyes glinting faintly with sorrow and defiance. She wore a peculiar ensemble—part mime, part soldier—a black vest over a grey blouse, a red scarf with white polka dots draped loosely around her neck. Her right leg was entirely metal, a clinking prosthetic that glinted as she shifted her weight. A tiny black top hat sat askew on her head, a daisy poking cheerily from its ribbon, a stark contrast to the bitterness in her voice.

Adam’s gaze lingered on her in fascination. Joker? Or was she Eve? Lucifer had called her both, and neither name seemed to fit perfectly.

“None of us were innocent,” Lucifer’s voice softened, tinged with an edge of bitterness. “Not you, not her. Not me. But you can’t expect me to forget what happened. Not after—”

“Enough.” Joker’s voice quavered, but there was a finality to it. “Don’t pretend you’re the only one who lost something, Lucifer. I may not have been there, but do you think that spared me from what came after?”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging thick in the air. Adam’s heart thudded in his chest, confusion swirling with dread. He didn’t understand half of what they were talking about, but the pain in their voices was unmistakable.

Lucifer let out a sharp exhale, and his footsteps echoed as he moved toward the door. “Believe what you want, Joker. But don’t expect me to forgive her—or you. Not yet.”

Squeezing his button eyes shut, Adam braced himself, expecting the familiar burning agony to ignite through his veins as he moved. He stiffened, waiting for the pain—but instead, there was only a dull, throbbing ache. Hesitant, Adam cracked open his eyes, blinking in confusion.

He glanced down at his body, then craned his neck to inspect the mechanical spider limbs that bound him. Tentatively, he moved one of the spindly metal arms, touching its cool surface with his small hand. There was no fiery pain, no stabbing sensation that usually accompanied movement. Instead, just a strange, muted pressure.

A shaky breath escaped him. His mechanical hand flexed, fingers moving smoothly, almost easily. It shouldn’t feel like this, but somehow, it did. Adam blinked rapidly, rummaging through his shawl until his fingers found the familiar bottle of yellow pills.

His breath hitched as he stared at the bottle. These pills—could they really be responsible for this strange relief? Hope flickered, fragile as candlelight. He fumbled with the lid, his hands trembling.

Before he could pry it open, the front doors burst open with a thunderous crash, the icy wind howling through the lounge. Snow swirled inside, glittering in the faint light, the freezing air biting at Adam’s skin.

“Damn, it’s freezing out there,” came a deep, unfamiliar voice.

“Michael?” Lucifer’s gasp was one of pure surprise, his voice lifting in genuine delight. “Good heavens, it’s splendid to see you again!”

Lucifer’s tone was unrecognizable—warm, even joyful. Adam stiffened, his button eyes darting to the edge of his hiding spot as Lucifer’s words took on a buoyancy he had never heard before.

“Lucifer,” the stranger—Michael—replied, his voice softer now, touched with relief. “I’m happy to see you too. Did you receive an invitation as well?”

“Something like that,” Lucifer laughed, brushing snow from Michael’s shoulders. “Is the snow heavy out there?”

Michael nodded, his expression shadowed with concern. “It’s not letting up. We’d best stay here until it eases.”

“That might be... problematic,” Joker’s voice broke through, quiet but weighty. She stood apart, her hands folded tightly in front of her, eyes downcast. “I’ve checked the kitchen. There isn’t much food left.”

Michael turned toward her, his expression softening. “Steve? Wait—no, Eve. I barely recognized you—it’s been so long.”

Joker nodded briefly, her movements stiff and guarded. “It has been a while, Michael.”

Lucifer shifted, throwing a casual arm around Michael’s shoulders, though his gaze flicked uneasily toward Joker. “Don’t fret about supplies. We’ve been reunited, and that’s fortune enough.”

Michael’s face brightened with a smile, but his tone carried hesitation. “And how is everyone?”

Joker’s posture tightened, her shoulders drawing inward.

 “It’s nearly lunchtime,” she murmured, retreating a step. “I’ll prepare something in the kitchen. I was always good at cooking.”

“Wait, Eve—” Michael started, reaching toward her. But she was already slipping through the doors leading to the kitchen, vanishing without another word.

Michael turned to Lucifer, confusion clouding his button eyes. “Lucifer, what’s happened? Did I say something wrong? I’ve been gone for so long...”

Lucifer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as though the question weighed heavily on him. “It’s... complicated.”

Adam barely registered their conversation, his focus consumed by the pills in his hand. He wrestled the cap off, spilling three pills into his trembling palm. Without hesitation, he swallowed them, chasing the hope they offered, the promise of dulling the ache.

But as the pills dissolved, his vision began to blur at the edges. A strange haze settled over his mind, muffling everything like a thick, dreamlike fog. He reached into his shawl again, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment—the play he was supposed to study.

“Moon, River, Massacre,” he read aloud, his voice wobbling, a giggle slipping free. “That’s what they called it! The massacre! A lunatic slaughtered everyone!”

His laughter grew louder, uncontrollable. His mechanical legs twitched and jerked as he stumbled out of his hiding place, twirling clumsily into the open.

“Everyone, everyone!” Adam sang, his voice lilting with an eerie, childlike melody. “Oh, did I frighten you, Michael? I was frightened too! Wasn’t it convincing? My performance?”

Michael stared at him, bewildered, his expression flickering between concern and alarm. He glanced at Lucifer, who pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

“Adam,” Lucifer said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Enough.”

The command stopped Adam cold. His laughter died in his throat, and his green button eyes widened, glimmering with sudden hurt. He hunched over, his mechanical limbs retracting slightly as though trying to make himself smaller.

“A-alright,” Adam stammered, his voice trembling. “I’ll say no more. I’ll leave now... It’s dreadful, isn’t it? My performance... I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

His spider legs scraped softly against the floor as he backed away, folding in on himself. A laugh threatened to bubble up again, but he bit it down, his vision swimming with glittering pink and blue.

Michael’s jaw tightened as he looked at Lucifer. Without a word, he stepped forward and crouched beside Adam, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Adam,” Michael said softly, his voice steady and warm. “Don’t be frightened. Lucifer is just... unsettled. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The warmth in his words broke through the fog clouding Adam’s mind. He nodded hesitantly, letting Michael’s touch guide him toward the kitchen. The doors creaked open as Michael led him through, but Adam didn’t look back. He couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever awaited in the kitchen, in Joker’s quiet sadness, held secrets far heavier than the snowstorm raging outside.

Michael lingered by the doorway, casting a long look at Lucifer. "I'm sorry, Luci. I didn’t know..." His voice was quiet, a tender apology weighted with years of distance.

Lucifer offered a faint, wistful smile. "It’s alright, Mike. Truly, I’m fine. You should check on them, though. After all..."

His gaze shifted, his expression softening. "No one here knows how to survive in these conditions like you."

Michael hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

He patted Lucifer’s shoulder and turned, following Adam into the kitchen.

Adam was already marvelling at the towering cabinets and polished counters, his mechanical legs clicking softly against the tiled floor as he spun around. His button eyes gleamed, shimmering like wet glass under the warm kitchen light.

Joker was by the counter, her hands moving deftly as she tried to scrape together something edible from their meagre supplies. She glanced at Adam, her red hair a tangle of shadow and fire under the faint light. Her lips pressed into a thin line, wary of the excitable doll bounding toward her.

Michael, however, crouched slightly, his tone soft. "Adam? What do you think of the kitchen?"

Adam beamed, his lips curling into a wide smile as his spider-like limbs clattered behind him. “It’s so big! Bigger than me! And look! Look at all the pots!”

He pointed with one of the mechanical arms, which wobbled unsteadily. “Do you use them all at once? Are they magic pots? Ooh, do they sing songs?!"

Joker blinked, caught off guard by his childish enthusiasm. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Michael chuckled, stepping closer. “Not magic, Adam. Just regular old pots.”

Adam giggled, spinning on one heel, his shawl fluttering slightly. "Pots! Pots everywhere! Ooh, Joker, is that your name? Is it because you make jokes? Can I tell you one? What do you call a spider with no legs? A raisin!"

Michael stifled a laugh, but Joker’s lips twitched.

“That’s... an interesting one,” she murmured, her voice hesitant but not unkind.

Adam tilted his head, his green button eyes wide. "Do you like jokes? I bet you do, you have funny hair! It’s all red and wild, like fire! I like fire... but it hurts sometimes, doesn’t it?”

His voice trailed off into a whisper, and his gaze briefly clouded before brightening again.

Joker blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but Michael placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him, his warm smile encouraging her to relax.

“Adam,” Michael began, crouching to meet him at eye level, “Have you eaten today?”

Adam froze, his mechanical legs stilling as he hummed thoughtfully. “Eaten? Ohhh, that’s a funny word! Eaaaaten! Eee-eee-aten!”

He twirled in a quick circle, his giggles ringing like chimes. "Nope! Don’t think so. Or maybe? Hmm, I don’t remember!”

Michael’s smile faded, concern creeping into his expression. “You don’t remember?”

“Nope!” Adam chirped, stopping mid-spin to gaze up at Michael.

“But I’m not hungry, promise! I’m just... exploring!” His eyes sparkled with childish wonder as they darted around the kitchen.

Joker stepped forward cautiously, a plate of crackers in her hand. “Adam, maybe you could try just a little something?” Her voice was softer now, her walls lowering slightly.

Adam shook his head vigorously, his shawl slipping slightly. “No thank you! Not hungry!”

His tone was cheerful, but there was a nervous edge to his movements.

Michael frowned. “What about water? Have you had any?”

Adam blinked, tilting his head like a curious bird. “Water? Nope! Don’t need it! I have lots of energy! See?”

He darted across the kitchen, his limbs clicking erratically as he bounced from one end to the other.

Joker started to step forward again, but Michael stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. He shook his head silently, his expression one of quiet understanding. Joker hesitated, her lips parting in protest before she relented with a small nod, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Alright,” Michael said, his voice steady. “But let us know if you need anything, okay?”

Adam nodded enthusiastically, already distracted by the gleaming counters and flickering light fixtures. “Okay, Michael! Bye-bye!”

Before either of them could stop him, Adam clattered out of the kitchen, humming a soft, tuneless melody as he wandered into the hallway.

The hallway was dim, but Adam’s vision blurred and sparkled, the edges of his sight tinged with pink and blue hues. He giggled to himself, his mechanical legs moving erratically as he explored.

His button eyes landed on a series of portraits lining the walls. He gasped, stepping closer. The faces were exquisite, painted with delicate strokes that made them seem almost alive. The colours swirled and shimmered in his drugged haze, each portrait a kaleidoscope of beauty.

“So pretty...” he whispered, reaching out with one of his mechanical arms. But the hand hovered awkwardly, far too large and unwieldy to touch anything without risk of damaging it.

Adam pouted, lowering the arm as his gaze shifted to a cluster of painted handprints further down the wall. Bright reds, blues, and yellows stood out against the pale surface. He placed one of his mechanical hands against the wall, comparing it to the prints.

They were so small, so delicate. His, by contrast, was monstrous—cold, sharp, and grotesque.

“I’m too big,” he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

For a moment, the haze cleared, and sadness flickered in his green button eyes. But then the melody returned to his lips, and he spun away, his humming growing louder as he continued his aimless journey through the strange, endless house.

Adam wandered the corridors of the mansion, his mechanical legs clicking rhythmically against the ornate wooden floor. His vision sparkled, the edges of his sight tinged with candy-coloured hues. Everything felt magical, larger than life. He tilted his head, humming a soft, tuneless melody as he ran a mechanical hand lightly along the walls.

Paintings, vases, mirrors—each thing he passed captured his attention with its strange beauty. But as he turned a corner, his gaze fell on a grand window framing the gardens outside. His button eyes widened, green threads catching the faint light.

“Flowers!” he whispered, almost reverently. “So many flowers!”

He pressed his face close to the glass, his breath fogging it. The gardens sprawled out in a maze of colour, each bed bursting with blooms in pinks, yellows, blues, and reds. The sight tugged at something deep within him—a longing he couldn’t name.

Reaching for the latch and eager to step outside, when a noise from a nearby room pulled Adam’s attention. He turned, curiosity overriding his plans, and shuffled toward the slightly ajar door.

Inside, a figure stood with his back to Adam, the air around him humming faintly with an otherworldly energy. The man turned as Adam entered, revealing a sharp grin filled with rows of emerald-green teeth. His hair fell in messy, ink-black waves, and his piercing eyes seemed to glow faintly.

“Zestial!” Adam cried, his voice bright with excitement. He hurried toward the man, his mechanical limbs clicking erratically.

Zestial’s grin widened as he held out his hands. “Adam, my boy! Come here.”

Adam grabbed Zestial’s hands eagerly, his small, stitched fingers dwarfed by Zestial’s long, clawed ones.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Adam gushed. “You’re here! You’re really here!”

Zestial chuckled, his voice smooth and laced with mischief. “I am indeed. And look at you, all full of energy. How are you feeling? Any pain?”

Shaking his head vigorously, Adam’s green button eyes shining. “Nope! None at all! And it’s all thanks to you! You took it all away!”

Zestial’s grin grew wider, almost predatory. “Good, good. You’ve been taking your pills, haven’t you?”

Adam nodded. “Three in the morning, three in the evening, just like you said!”

Zestial leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Double promise?”

Adam giggled, crossing his heart with a stitched finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die!”

Zestial snorted in amusement, patting Adam’s head. “Careful with those words, little one. Now, tell me—do you like my mansion? Hazbin’s a special place, isn’t it?”

Nodding his head fervently, Adam held tightly to Zestial’s hands as they began to walk down the corridor. The faint glow of pink lights framed their path. “I love it! It’s so big and pretty! But, um...”

He hesitated, glancing up at Zestial. “I’m too big to go up to my room! My legs don’t fit on the stairs. But I found a hidey hole!”

Zestial chuckled, his grip firm yet oddly comforting. “A hidy hole, you say? Well, perhaps I’ll sort out a proper room for you on the ground floor. How does that sound?”

Adam’s face lit up. “Really? Oh, thank you, Zestial! You’re the best!”

Smirking, Zestial steered Adam along the hall. “Now, about the play. Have you picked a part yet?”

Shrugging, Adam’s mechanical legs clicking softly as they moved. “Everyone keeps saying I should be the last child. I don’t know why, but I’m just happy they’re letting me join! I want to do a good job so I can go home!”

Zestial’s grin softened, a shadow of something unreadable passing over his face. “And you will, Adam. Once the performance is done, I’ll make sure you get home to your mother.”

Adam beamed, his excitement bubbling over. “Really? Oh, thank you, Zestial!”

As they walked, Zestial’s tone grew contemplative. “Do you like the others? Lucifer, Lilith, Eve... Michael?”

Adam tilted his head, his voice dropping slightly. “I guess so. Lucifer yelled at me today, though. I think I made him mad...”

Chuckling darkly, Zestial patted Adam’s hand. “Ah, Lucifer. Always the temperamental one. And Lilith... she’s got her own demons to wrestle. But tell me, Adam, are you aware of the fifth member?”

Adam blinked up at him, confusion knitting his button brows. “Fifth member? Who?”

“Steve,” Zestial said, his grin returning. “Though some might say Steve looks an awful lot like Eve—or Joker, as you know her.”

Adam frowned, his mechanical hands twitching slightly. “Joker’s name is Eve, not Steve. Steve’s someone else!”

The grip on Adam’s hand tightened slightly, though Zestial’s tone remained light. “Perhaps. But wouldn’t you like to find out? Call her Steve next time, won’t you?”

Adam pouted, his childish frustration bubbling up. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

Ruffling Adam’s hair, Zestial laughed. “Because it’s more fun this way. You’ll do it, won’t you?”

Adam huffed but nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

 “That’s my boy.”

As they reached the end of the corridor, Zestial paused, gesturing to a set of glass doors that led outside. “Now, Adam, do you want to see the gardens?”

Adam’s face lit up with uncontainable joy. “Yes, yes! I really do!”

With a dramatic flourish, Zestial pushed the doors open. “Then go on. Explore. There are greenhouses, too, if you’d like.”

Gasping, Adam’s mechanical legs clicking erratically as he darted forward into the sprawling garden. The cold air was crisp against his fabric skin, and the colours of the flowers shimmered in his drugged haze like living rainbows.

“Zestial!” he called, turning back to share his excitement. But the doorway was empty.

“Zestial?” Adam called again, his voice quieter this time. He stepped closer, peering back into the mansion, but there was no sign of the man.

The wind rustled softly through the garden, carrying the faint scent of flowers. Adam hugged himself, his mechanical arms folding inwards as a faint, inexplicable unease settled over him.

“Zestial?” he whispered one last time, but the only answer was the rustling of leaves.

he heavy double doors to the garden creaked open, the sound slicing through the mansion's eerie stillness. Adam peeked out, his glowing eyes scanning the snow-blanketed world beyond. His heart raced with a longing that felt almost painful. He wanted to go outside—no, needed to. The flowers, the bare trees, the animals that might brave the cold—he yearned for the solace they promised. The chill in the air pricked his exposed skin, yet something was wrong. The world beyond the threshold was empty. Hollow.

"Zestial said it was fine for me to go outside," Adam whispered to himself, as if reassuring the nagging doubt in his mind.

The spider-like limbs of his prostheses hummed softly, the mechanical joints releasing faint clicks and buzzes as he stepped forward. One clawed hand gripped the doorframe, steadying him, when suddenly a voice, sharp and alarmed, shattered the quiet.

"Adam!"

He flinched violently, stumbling back as his glowing eyes darted around in panic. His movements were clumsy, spinning twice in search of the voice's source. Finally, he spotted Lucifer descending the winding staircase, his face twisted with urgency.

"Lucifer," Adam mumbled, barely audible over the quiet hum of his prosthetics. He hadn’t even noticed those steps when Zestial had led him to the back of the mansion earlier.

 Reaching towards him, Lucifer’s porcelain-like face contorted in a mixture of concern and frustration. His red and gold button eyes, glinting with an otherworldly light, focused intently on Adam.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

Adam pouted, his hand gesturing toward the open doors.

“Going outside,” he replied simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lucifer’s brows furrowed deeply. His voice rose, the tension unmistakable. “What? Are you out of your mind? You can’t go outside, Adam!”

The reprimand stung, and Adam recoiled slightly. The earlier fight from this morning still lingered in his mind, and the hurt bubbled up in his chest. He squared his shoulders defiantly.

“I want to see the gardens!” he yelled back, his voice tinged with a childlike petulance.

Freezing for a moment, Lucifer’s jaw working soundlessly as if wrestling with words that wouldn’t come. His gaze flickered between the open doors and Adam, then hardened. Without another word, he strode to the threshold, slammed the doors shut with a thunderous echo, and stretched upward to lock them with a swift motion.

“You can’t go outside, Adam,” Lucifer snapped, turning back to face him, his frown deep and unyielding. “It’s snowing. Heavily.”

“Why not?!” Adam countered, his voice trembling with frustration.

Lucifer exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair as though searching for patience. “Adam, I don’t know exactly what your prostheses are made of, but they look mechanical to me. If you go out there in that storm, the cold will freeze them. They’ll ice over, and... and you could die. Don’t you understand how dangerous it is for you to be out there?”

Adam’s defiance faltered. He glanced down at his spindly mechanical limbs, their once gleaming surfaces dulled by time. Shame curled in his stomach as he mumbled, “Yes, yes, you’re right.”

Lucifer’s tense posture softened ever so slightly. A breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding escaped him. He crouched down in front of Adam, his sharp gaze scanning his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his tone careful, almost gentle.

Blinking, Adam was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Frowning, Lucifer clicked his tongue softly. “It’s just… you’re different from last night. The way you’re talking, acting—something feels off.”

Adam snorted dismissively. “I’m fine! Completely fine!”

“Alright, fine. You’re okay,” he muttered. Lucifer straightened, his expression sceptical but resigned. “Can’t blame a guy for being concerned.”

Expression darkened, and Adam muttered bitterly, “Like you care anyway.”

Lucifer froze, his button eyes narrowing. “Of course I care. I wouldn’t have stopped you if I didn’t.”

“You yelled at me,” Adam said, his voice cracking. “You hate me. You find me disgusting, like everyone else.”

Lucifer’s mouth fell open, genuine shock flashing across his face. “Adam…”

His voice softened. “I don’t even know you well enough to hate you. And I certainly don’t find you disgusting.”

“Everyone does,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible now. His mechanical limbs creaked faintly as he drew them closer to his body.

For a long moment, there was silence between them, thick and heavy. Then Lucifer sat down on the cold floor, directly in front of Adam.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier. That was wrong of me.”

Lips quivering, but he didn’t speak. Adam’s stubborn, childlike demeanour began to crumble as Lucifer continued.

“I don’t hate you, Adam. Nor do I find you disgusting. Your prostheses… sure, they’re surprising, but that doesn’t make you any less than anyone else. You’re you, and that’s enough.”

Adam’s eyes, filled with a flicker of hope, met Lucifer’s.

“Really?” he asked, his voice fragile.

Nodding, the tension easing from Lucifer’s features. “Really.”

The snow outside howled against the windows, a haunting melody that seemed to echo Adam’s turmoil. Yet, in the quiet warmth of Lucifer’s gaze, there was an unexpected promise of something Adam hadn’t felt in a long time—acceptance.

Tilting his head thoughtfully, the tension from their earlier exchange dissipating as he observed Adam’s childlike pout. His mechanical limbs twitched faintly, betraying his nervous energy. Lucifer decided to try a softer approach, one that might coax Adam out of his shell without pressuring him.

"Hey," Lucifer began, his tone light. "Why don’t we play a game? Something fun."

Blinking, Adam’s luminous eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“A… game?” he asked hesitantly.

Lucifer grinned, sitting cross-legged on the floor as if to prove he wasn’t going anywhere. “Yeah. Ever played Twenty Questions?”

Adam tilted his head like a curious bird, the unfamiliar name sparking something in him. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s easy,” Lucifer explained. “We take turns asking each other questions—any questions we want—and we have to answer honestly. It’s a way to get to know each other better.”

Brow furrowing, Adam’s mechanical limbs twitching faintly as he considered this.

 “Nobody’s ever played games with me before,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with an odd mix of sadness and wonder.

Lucifer’s chest tightened at the confession, but he smiled warmly. “Well, then, I guess it’s about time someone did. I’ll go first. What’s your favourite colour?”

Perking up at the simple question, Adam’s expression brightening. “Oh! I like yellow. It’s warm, like sunlight. What about you?”

Chuckling, Lucifer was pleased by the enthusiasm. “Hmm… I think I like red. It’s bold, like fire.”

Humming thoughtfully, as though committing this information to memory.

“Red suits you. You’re like fire. You’re warm too,” he said matter-of-factly.

Lucifer’s grin softened. “Your turn.”

Twiddling his fingers, Adam’s excitement bubbling over. “What did you do in your circus? Did you juggle? Did you do flips? Did people clap for you?”

Lucifer laughed at the barrage of questions, his button eyes glinting with fondness. “One at a time, Adam. Yes, I juggled. And yeah, people liked what I could do. They used to call me ‘The Cute Juggler,’ if you can believe that.”

Jaw dropping, Adam’s childlike awe shining through. “Cute? You?!”

He tilted his head dramatically, studying Lucifer as though trying to find the "cute" hidden in him.

“Hey!” Lucifer said with mock offense, playfully poking Adam’s arm. “I was pretty popular back in the day, you know.”

Adam giggled—a sweet, airy sound that made Lucifer’s chest ache in an oddly pleasant way. “What do they call you now?”

Hesitating, a shadow of uncertainty crossing Lucifer’s face. “I… don’t know, honestly. Haven’t thought about it.”

Adam’s face lit up with an idea, his tone brimming with pride as he declared, “Acrobat! You’re like an acrobat now, with all those moves you do.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Acrobat, huh? You’ve got a talent for naming things, Adam.”

Puffing out his chest proudly, clearly pleased with the compliment. Adam beamed cutely.

“What did you do in your circus?” Lucifer asked, his tone softer now. “What was your performance like?”

Adam’s smile faltered slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I was with the Cowshuff Circus,” he muttered.

Eyes brightening up, Lucifer nodded thoughtfully. “That’s right. I remember. The ringmaster was Fred, wasn’t it?”

Adam seemed to shrink in on himself, his shoulders hunching. “That’s right… Fred.”

Leaning forward, and lowering his voice to a gentle whisper. Lucifer spoke. “Did Fred… kick you out of the Cowshuff?”

Adam didn’t answer, his gaze fixed firmly on the tiles beneath him. Lucifer hesitated before trying another approach. “The mechanical spider limbs you have now… were they his idea?”

“I don’t like to perform,” Adam blurted suddenly, his voice cracking with emotion.

Lucifer blinked, taken aback. “You… don’t like to perform? Then why—why did you accept the invitation to join the circus?”

Lowering his head, Adam’s expression heartbreakingly similar to a scolded child. He didn’t answer, and Lucifer bit his lip, uncertain how to proceed.

“I just… I figured you loved it,” Lucifer admitted quietly. “The way you’re acting now… I thought the stage was where you wanted to be.”

Adam’s glowing, pink-and-blue-tinged vision flickered as he stared at the floor. Something was off—Lucifer could feel it in the way Adam’s movements seemed sluggish, his responses disconnected. He tilted his head, trying to meet Adam’s eyes.

“You know,” Lucifer began softly, “I saw you perform once.”

Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You… you did? You saw me?”

Grinning widely, a hint of nostalgia in Lucifer’s expression. “Sure did. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember thinking you were amazing. Cute, even.”

Adam recoiled as though the word had physically struck him.

“I was not cute!” he huffed, his voice rising with indignation.

Lucifer laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Oh, you absolutely were.”

Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, Adam’s cheeks puffing out in a childish pout as he stood abruptly. He wandered past Lucifer, heading back toward the mansion.

“Hey, wait!” Lucifer called, scrambling to his feet. He hurried after Adam, his boots echoing against the cold tile. “Don’t just walk away!”

Adam didn’t respond, his mechanical limbs clicking faintly as he moved. Lucifer caught up to him, falling into step beside him. The unease from earlier returned, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Something wasn’t right with Adam, and Lucifer wasn’t about to let him retreat into solitude without finding out what.

The group entered the living room, the crackling of the fire casting a warm, golden glow across the space. Adam gasped, his mechanical limbs twitching as he hurried toward the fireplace, his glowing green button eyes fixated on the dancing flames. He lowered himself beside it, his spindly hands reaching out as though to touch the warmth without risking the frostbitten cold of his mechanical parts.

Michael stood near the fireplace, smiling warmly. “I thought this would make the room a bit cozier.”

Glancing toward the window where the snowstorm outside howled and roared. Michael sighed. “It seems the storm has only grown fiercer.”

Entering the room, Lucifer’s gaze sweeping briefly to Joker, who stood awkwardly by the wall, before landing on Adam. He exchanged a look with Michael—one of silent understanding—before leaning casually against the fireplace’s stone mantle.

Breaking the quiet, Joker cleared her throat and stepped forward hesitantly. “I’ve… I’ve been practicing my act…Would you like to see it?”

Adam perked up immediately, clapping his mechanical hands together with audible enthusiasm.

“Oh yes! I’d love to see it, Joker!” His excitement was contagious, his button eyes practically glowing as they darted between her and the others.

Smirking, Lucifer crossed his arms. “Sure. Let’s show each other what we’ve got and decide what to put on stage for the play.”

Michael clapped a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, his grin wide. “Brilliant idea! It’ll be good to see how we can work together.”

Adam beamed, fishing a crinkled parchment from the folds of his shawl.

“The play!” he exclaimed. “I can’t wait!”

As Joker began to perform, her movements graceful yet tentative, the atmosphere in the room shifted to one of focus and anticipation. Adam and Michael shared a smile, clapping their hands in time with the rhythm of her act. Adam’s expression was alight with joy, his attention locked onto Joker as she twirled and spun.

Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he blurted out, “Oh, Steve! You’re so wonderful!”

The room froze. Joker stopped mid-spin, her hands lowering to her sides as she stared at Adam in shock. Lucifer pushed off the mantle, his button eyes narrowing.

 “Adam?” he said, his voice low but sharp. “What did you just call her?”

Blinking his bright green eyes wide with confusion. Adam clocked his head, his voice was small, uncertain, as his gaze darted between them. “Steve? Oh no, that’s not right, is it?”

Joker took a shaky step back, her expression wavering between surprise and discomfort. She turned slightly, her eyes catching movement near the door.

“L-Lilith?” she stammered. “It’s me… Joker.”

All eyes turned as Lilith, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, froze. Her large button eyes widened in fear as she stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and landing hard on the floor.

She threw up a trembling hand. “No! Stay back! Don’t come any closer, you… you monsters!”

“Lilith!” Michael exclaimed, rushing to her side. He gently helped her up, his voice calm and steady as he asked, “Are you alright? It’s okay, Lilith. Steve isn’t here. Adam just made a mistake. That’s all.”

Lilith’s breathing slowed, her wide eyes darting to Adam before glancing away.

“Y-yes,” she murmured, her voice distant. “Of course. It’s my fault…”

Shrinking back, Adam’s head bowing as guilt weighed him down. “I-I’m sorry, Lilith…It was just a mistake. I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t do it again.”

Lilith barely looked at him, her hand clutching the edge of her dress tightly.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, though her tone remained detached. She turned to Michael, her voice soft and strained. “I… I’m tired. I missed lunch. Perhaps I’ll eat something in the kitchen and then retire to my room.”

Michael nodded kindly. “Of course, Lilith. You need to take care of yourself. Joker saved some food for you.”

Stepping forward, Joker offered a shy smile. “Yes, that’s right, Lilith. I cooked. There’s a plate waiting for you.”

Lilith managed a faint smile in return. “Thank you, Eve.”

She hesitated. Her gaze flicked back to Adam, her expression softening slightly. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m just… a bit out of sorts. Let me eat and rest, and we’ll look at the performances later.”

Adam’s face lit up again, his earlier tension dissipating. He clapped his hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Lilith! Thank you, thank you… Oh, um, I mean, Margarethe—”

Lilith shook her head, letting out a faint laugh. “Lilith is fine. I imagine it’s hard to keep track of all the names.”

Adam’s relief was clear as he nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Lilith.”

As the group began to leave the room, Adam’s short but lumpy form lumbered after them, his parchment slipping unnoticed from his shawl to the floor. Lucifer spotted it immediately, scooping it up with a swift motion before Adam could turn back. He glanced at the scrawled writing before slipping it into his pocket. When Adam turned, his head tilted in curiosity, Lucifer offered him a quick smile, one that Adam returned without question.

Lucifer’s fingers brushed the parchment in his pocket as they walked. Whatever Adam was carrying, it wasn’t just a script—it was something more. Something important. Something he needed to understand.

Adam’s mechanical legs clicked softly against the floor as he moved, his steps hesitant yet deliberate. The food he left behind sat untouched, smeared and rearranged to feign an attempt at eating. He couldn’t remember the last time eating felt natural. The spider suit’s unforgiving design made it a chore. Drinking was easier, but even then, his thirst was fleeting, almost non-existent. His button eyes blinked dimly as his vision sharpened, like breaking through a dense fog. Yet, clarity came with a price—pain, dull and creeping, spreading from his lower back into his limbs. The ache was a slow burn, a reminder that evening was drawing near.

And evening meant more pills.

He glanced back toward the others at the table. They were engrossed in conversation, voices rising and falling in a comfortable rhythm. They wouldn’t notice if he left, would they? They might assume he was wandering again—like he often did. Adam paused at the thought, his mechanical body stiffening. Why had he acted so irrationally earlier? His lips pressed into a thin line. It had to be the medication. Zestial hadn’t mentioned side effects, but…what else could explain it? Still, it was worth it. All of it was worth it. The pills dulled the agony that had once consumed him. Painlessness was worth any price.

Without a word, Adam turned from the table and headed toward the double doors. He noted the details as he moved—the pristine white tablecloth draped over the table, the ruby red runner cutting through its centre like a streak of blood. Golden candle holders lined the middle, their polished surfaces gleaming in the flickering light. Around the table were eight chairs with cushions, gilded and plush. One chair had been shifted to accommodate him—a gesture that should have made him feel included but only underscored his difference. Adam hadn’t sat in a proper chair since…since before.

As he pushed through the doors, the sound of his limbs creaking faded into the background. He didn’t notice Lucifer’s eyes following him, a flicker of concern crossing the juggler’s face. Lucifer leaned forward in his seat, his body tilting precariously as he tried to keep Adam in his line of sight. But when Adam disappeared through the doors, Lucifer’s balance gave out, and he tumbled unceremoniously to the floor.

Lilith snorted, barely hiding her amusement. “Still the same old Morningstar. Nothing ever changes.”

“Watch it,” Lucifer grumbled, glaring at her as he scrambled back into his seat. He smoothed his shirt with exaggerated nonchalance, ignoring the grin Michael shot him.

Meanwhile, Adam had reached the solitude of an empty hallway. His trembling mechanical hand fished the small bottle of pills from a hidden pocket, the lid clinking softly as he twisted it open. His fingers shook as he tried to tip the pills into his palm, and the bottle slipped. Time seemed to slow as it hit the floor, bouncing once, twice—then spilling its contents in a scattered mess of yellow.

“No,” Adam whispered, his voice tight with panic.

His button eyes filled with unshed tears as a hot, sharp pain flared up his spine, searing through him like molten fire. He clutched his side, his body shuddering as he lowered himself to the floor. His mechanical legs screeched faintly as they struggled to support him.

“No, no, no…”

One by one, he painstakingly picked up the pills, his trembling hands working against him. Each retrieval was an effort, his flushed face contorting with frustration and pain. He missed a single small pill that rolled beneath a nearby cabinet, unnoticed as he finished gathering the rest into the bottle.

With three pills left in his palm, Adam paused. His throat worked against a lump of pain and apprehension. He knew he needed them—needed the relief they promised. He tipped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry, wincing as they scratched his throat on the way down. His trembling subsided slightly, the promise of temporary reprieve easing his mind.

He sat there for a moment, his breathing uneven. A soft sound broke the silence—a shuffle of footsteps. Adam snapped his head up, button eyes wide and wary. From dining room doors, Lucifer emerged, his expression a mix of curiosity and worry.

“Adam?” Lucifer’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “What’s going on?”

Adam’s hands instinctively curled around the bottle, clutching it protectively.

“N-nothing,” he stammered, his voice a shaky echo of his usual childlike tone. “I just…dropped something.”

Lucifer took a cautious step closer, his button eyes narrowing as he studied Adam's hunched form.

“Do you…need help picking up whatever you dropped?” His voice carried a careful balance of concern and nonchalance, as though he didn’t want to spook Adam further.

Adam stiffened, his mechanical limbs clicking faintly as he turned slightly away, shielding himself from Lucifer’s probing gaze. He quickly shoved the small bottle back into his shawl, the fabric bunching awkwardly around the hidden object. His hands trembled, but he forced a weak smile to his lips.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” he said hastily, his voice high-pitched and almost sing-song.

Lucifer tilted his head, his arms crossing loosely over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.

“You sure? You seem…off,” he pressed, though his tone remained gentle. “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“I said I’m fine,” Adam snapped suddenly, his voice cracking. He winced at his own tone, his button eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to reset himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, softer this time. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just—I’m fine, Lucifer. Really.”

Lucifer hesitated, watching Adam’s trembling frame with growing unease. He knew Adam wasn’t telling the whole truth, but something about the doll’s fragility stopped him from pushing further. Instead, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Alright,” he said, his voice light but sceptical. “If you say so.”

Adam offered a quick nod and shuffled awkwardly on his mechanical legs, desperate to escape the weight of Lucifer’s concern.

“I’ll just…go rest for a bit,” he murmured, moving toward the hallway with jerky, uneven steps.

Lucifer stayed rooted in place, his eyes following Adam’s retreating figure. He didn’t believe him—not for a second. Adam’s behaviour wasn’t just strange; it was alarming. The tremors in his movements, the shadows that lingered behind his button eyes, and the way he clutched the shawl like a lifeline all painted a picture Lucifer couldn’t ignore.

As Adam disappeared into the dim corridor, Lucifer let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. His instincts screamed at him to intervene, but he knew better than to corner someone who was clearly unravelling.

“He’s hiding something,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers tapping against his arm in thought. “And it’s not just whatever he dropped.”

He straightened, his jaw tightening with determination. If Adam wouldn’t tell him, Lucifer would have to find out another way. For now, though, he would let the doll have his space—just enough rope to either find his footing or hang himself with his secrets.

With one last glance toward the corridor, Lucifer turned and headed back to the dining room, his mind already churning with plans. Whatever Adam was hiding, it was only a matter of time before the truth spilled out.

Adam darted toward the dim recess beneath the grand staircase, his mechanical legs clicking faintly against the worn floorboards. His little hiding spot—a sanctuary amidst the chaos—waited for him. Just as he crouched to slip inside, a cold realization prickled down his spine.

The script. It was gone.

His spindly fingers clawed at his frayed shawl, searching frantically, but the parchment wasn’t there. He must have dropped it somewhere—somewhere out in the sprawling, ominous corridors. Dread unfurled in his chest, a twisting serpent that coiled tighter with every second. The air around him seemed heavier, pressing in as a familiar haze of pink and blue swam across his vision. The pills—always the pills. Their effects crept in, disorienting him further.

“Oh dear… oh no…” Adam’s voice trembled as he whispered the words to himself, barely audible over the thrum of his own panic. “I’ve lost it. I’ve lost the play script.”

His mechanical hands rose to his button-eyed face in a dramatic gesture, the childlike movements betraying the maelstrom of anxiety within. “They’re going to be so mad at me!” His voice quavered, rising to a high-pitched whine.

The spider-like appendages sprouting from his back buzzed to life, their metallic joints clicking and clanking as Adam spun in a wild, frenetic circle. His button eyes darted left and right, scanning the dim corridor as he muttered feverishly, “It’s here. Somewhere. Somewhere around here! It has to be—must be!”

The empty hall offered no answers, only shadows that seemed to ripple and shift in the flickering lamplight.

From beyond the double doors at the end of the corridor, muffled voices seeped through. Familiar, grounding.

“...When the snow lets up, we should head into the woods,” Michael’s voice rumbled, calm and thoughtful. “Maybe we can find some food.”

Adam froze, his frantic movements halting. He hummed softly to himself, a giggle escaping his lips despite his panic. Michael. Admirable Michael. His voice was like a tether, pulling Adam from the brink of his spiraling fear.

“I’ll help chop firewood,” Joker chimed in, her voice gentle, tinged with warmth.

Adam tilted his head, wondering briefly if Eve truly knew how to wield an axe.

“That’s right,” Michael continued, his tone thoughtful. “Remember, back in the day, you, me, and Luci helped Zestial fix his tent? You were the only one who could figure out that blasted saw.”

At the mention of Zestial, Adam’s green button eyes widened. He glanced around the corridor as if expecting the man to appear from the shadows. Of course, no one came. But... they knew Zestial too?

Michael’s voice carried on, steady and measured. “We’ll need tools first. The trees here are thick—ancient. Joker, do you think you still remember how to use a saw?”

Peering through the ajar doors, Adam’s gaze darted to the group within. They sat around a long, weathered table, bathed in the flickering glow of candles. Michael, poised as ever, leaned forward slightly, his arms crossed in contemplation. Joker’s delicate smile lit her face, her hands resting in her lap.

Lilith, regal and otherworldly, sipped tea from a fine china cup, her movements unhurried and graceful. Adam’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, entranced by the eerie stillness of her doll-like features.

And then there was Lucifer. Slouched in his chair, one arm propped on the table, he gazed into the flickering flames with a distant, almost haunted expression.

“What’s wrong, Luci?” Michael asked gently, turning his attention to his silent companion.

Adam’s curiosity burned. He tilted his head, watching as Lucifer slowly stirred. His fingers brushed his face, as though wiping away an unseen weight, before he leaned back once more. Something about him was different tonight. His usual bravado seemed dulled; his movements sluggish. A shadow flickered across his face—an emotion Adam couldn’t quite name.

Adam pushed the door open just slightly, inching closer. He couldn’t stop himself. His fear of discovery was dwarfed by the magnetic pull of their conversation, the need to understand what lay behind those haunted eyes.

Adam burst into the room, his movements erratic and flustered, a picture of desperation. His voice trembled as he spoke, childlike and pleading. “This is just awful! Has anyone seen the playbill? I... I think I’ve lost it! I must have dropped it somewhere around here. Please, please don’t be mad at me!”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Lilith, seated primly in her chair, turned her porcelain face toward him, her lips curving into a crooked frown. Her lavender-scented aura lingered, soothing yet cold.

“Oh, Adam,” she said, her tone light but faintly tinged with pity. “We wouldn’t be mad at you for that.”

Adam gasped sharply, his head whipping toward her, button-green eyes wide with disbelief. “Really?”

Joker, her hands folded delicately on her lap, gave a soft, hesitant nod. “It’s alright, A-Adam. We’ll help you look for it. Right, Lilith?”

Lilith’s gaze lingered on Adam before she offered a faint nod of agreement.

Across the room, Lucifer lounged on a yellow-cushioned chair, his red and yellow button eyes gleaming like mismatched jewels in the dim light. With deliberate slowness, he leaned back, holding up the missing playbill between his fingers. His expression was unreadable, his gaze laced with an almost playful challenge.

Adam froze mid-spin, his mechanical hands clapping nervously against one another. The childlike exuberance that had fuelled his movements faltered, his body seeming more sluggish now. A flicker of relief crossed his face.

 “Oh, thank goodness! You found it!” he exclaimed, rushing toward Lucifer. “Thank you, Luci. Where did you find it? Perhaps we can—oh!”

As Adam reached for the script, Lucifer’s arm darted upward, yanking the parchment away and holding it just out of Adam’s reach. It dangled mockingly, too high for his spindly spider-like prostheses to grasp.

“I just borrowed it,” Lucifer said nonchalantly, tilting his head to meet Adam’s gaze. His voice was soft, but his words carried an edge that felt almost like a dare. “I was going to give it back, Adam. But look at this—it’s... weird.”

Lilith, with an elegant grace, rose from her chair. She glided across the room, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table as she circled it, her movements deliberate and measured. Reaching Lucifer, she plucked the script from his hand, examining it with a furrowed brow.

“What is this?” she murmured, her voice cool and thoughtful. “Another nursery rhyme? I think I’ve heard this before…”

Before she could finish her thought, Lucifer sprang to his feet with a burst of theatrical energy, his sudden movement jarring. His hand snatched the parchment from her grip, and he twirled dramatically, his arms thrown high above his head as though conducting an invisible audience.

“It is a nursery rhyme,” he declared, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mock reverence. “The same kind Steve used to adore.” His lips twisted into a wry smile.

“But this—” he tapped the parchment with a long finger, “—this must be a clue.”

Adam’s confusion deepened, his small frame retreating slightly, his mechanical spider limbs emitting a soft, whirring whine. “A clue?” he echoed, tilting his head. “A clue for what?”

Michael stepped forward then, his presence steady and grounding. He placed a warm, reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder, sending a fleeting sense of comfort through him. Michael’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, his tone calm but probing.

“What type of clue are we talking about?”

Lucifer swayed slightly, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his angular features, deepening the tension that seemed to thrum in the room like a barely audible hum.

“Who was it,” Lucifer murmured, his voice low and sinister, “that killed everyone and then ran away?”

Lilith’s porcelain face twisted with frustration, her crimson-painted lips curling into a sharp glare.

“What are you talking about, Lucifer?” she hissed, her voice low and crackling with tension. “You’re not going to dredge up that old spiral of madness again, are you?”

Lucifer’s eyes rolled dramatically, the glow of his mismatched button eyes flashing with irritation. He exhaled a breathy, theatrical huff, spreading his hands wide. “Why are you even here, Lilith? What did the organizer promise you this time? Money? A leading role? Don’t tell me you actually think we’re here for a simple performance?”

Lilith let out a deep, weary sigh, her shoulders sagging as though under the weight of his accusations. “Lucifer, you need to let this go—”

He cut her off with a sharp, sardonic laugh that sent a chill rippling through the room. “Take a good, long look around, Lilith.”

His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he gestured toward the room with a flourish. “We were all invited here—every last one of us—to the Hazbin Circus. You don’t find it the least bit suspicious? All the survivors of the Hullabaloo massacre, gathered in one place?”

Lilith’s mouth opened as if to argue, but she hesitated, her jaw snapping shut. Her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides.

“Adam wasn’t part of the Hullabaloo Circus, Lucifer,” she said through gritted teeth, her tone laced with forced calm.

Lucifer groaned, spinning away from her with a frustrated laugh that felt hollow and strained.

“Fine. You’re right. Adam’s the exception. I have no idea why he’s here. But you? Eve? Michael? Me? That is suspicious, don’t you think?”

Michael stepped forward, his hand outstretched as though attempting to calm a tempest.

“Luci,” he said softly, his voice warm yet firm. “You need to sit down and—”

Lucifer slapped Michael’s hand away with a sharp crack that echoed in the tense air.

“No! I need an answer!” His voice rose, filled with a trembling anger that bordered on hysteria. “The name of the one who destroyed our home! The playbill—”

He jabbed a finger at the crumpled script, “—it says the murderer who killed everyone is among those who ‘got away.’ Someone doesn’t want us to know the truth.”

Lilith’s fists tightened until her nails dug into her palms, her voice slicing through the air like a razor. “You’re mad, Lucifer Morningstar. You’ve always been mad.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she turned to leave, but Lucifer darted in front of her, his movements unnervingly quick and fluid.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Not so fast, darling. Today, we all give our accounts of what really happened on that night.”

Lilith’s lips twitched, her expression flickering between rage and something more fragile.

“I’ve already told the investigators everything I know,” she said coldly, the tremor in her voice betraying her.

Lucifer shrugged, his hands lifting in a mocking gesture of surrender. “Ah, yes. The mysterious ‘man in black’ who slipped into the tent? Is it even possible to craft a leakier lie than that?”

Lilith’s sharp gasp filled the room, her hand rising instinctively to her chest. “So, you suspect me, do you?”

Her voice wavered, teetering on the edge of anger and despair. “Everyone knows I was preparing for the performance that night. I couldn’t possibly be the murderer. I have no reason to lie—not to the investigators, and certainly not to you.”

Lucifer’s grin faded, his expression hardening into something colder. “You hated that place, Lilith.”

“And we all did, Lucifer Morningstar!” Her words lashed out like a whip. “Every single one of us, except you!”

He flinched at her words, but Lilith pressed on, her voice rising with venomous intensity. “And no wonder why. Mister Popular! Zestial’s little golden boy!”

She shoved past him with enough force to send him stumbling a step. Without another word, she stormed from the room, her footsteps echoing like gunshots in the silence.

“Lilith!” Joker called, her voice filled with alarm as she rushed after her.

His mechanical limbs twitching as Adam processed the sharp exchange that had just erupted in the room. The tension crackled in the air like an electric storm, heavy and suffocating. His green button eyes flicked nervously between Lucifer, who still clutched the play script with a triumphant yet manic glint in his mismatched gaze, and the door through which Lilith and Joker had disappeared.

“Luci…” Michael’s voice was soft but firm, his towering presence exuding calm. “That was uncalled for. You’re pushing too hard.”

Lucifer turned to him with a sardonic grin, spreading his arms wide in mock innocence. “Uncalled for? Oh, forgive me, Michael. I didn’t realize seeking the truth about who destroyed everything we had was such a faux pas.”

Sighing heavily, Michael placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, offering the trembling doll a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re scaring him,” he said pointedly.

Lucifer’s sharp gaze flickered to Adam. His grin faltered for a moment before he sighed, tossing the script onto the table like a discarded toy.

“I’m not trying to scare anyone,” he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I just want answers.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Adam murmured, his voice quivering. “What does the playbill have to do with…with what happened at Hullabaloo?”

Lucifer turned to him, crouching slightly to meet Adam’s wide, button-eyed stare.

“Everything, Adam,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a piece of the puzzle. Don’t you see? We were all brought here for a reason, and it’s not just to put on some whimsical circus performance.”

Hands clutching his shawl tightly, Adam’s confusion deepening. “But why me? I wasn’t part of Hullabaloo. I don’t even know what happened there…”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lucifer his gaze softening as he studied Adam’s earnest expression. “Why you?”

Michael, sensing the brewing storm, stepped between them. “That’s enough for tonight. We’re all tired, and this snowstorm isn’t helping anyone’s mood. Let’s regroup in the morning.”

“And you?” Lucifer asked, turning towards Michael. “What do you make of all this?”

“What? Did I hate that place too?” Michael repeated.

A laugh escaped Lucifer. “No…no, I mean the play. The script.”

“…” Michael shrugged.

Opening his mouth to argue but stopped himself, Lucifer’s gaze lingering on Adam’s trembling form. With a dramatic sigh, he waved a dismissive hand and turned toward the fire.

“Hey, Adam. I apologise for my rudeness earlier.” He spoke softly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you…”

“I-It’s okay.”

Adam lingered for a moment, his mechanical legs hesitating to move. He glanced at the script lying on the table, the mysterious rhyme still echoing in his mind. He didn’t understand what was happening, but the weight of it pressed down on him like a lead blanket.

As Michael gently guided him out of the room, Lucifer stared into the flickering flames, his mind a whirl of suspicion and fragmented memories. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the past was clawing its way back, and that Adam, innocent as he seemed, was somehow at the centre of it all.

Outside, Lilith stormed down the dimly lit corridor, her breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. Joker struggled to keep up, her small frame hurrying to match Lilith’s determined stride.

“Lilith, wait!” Joker called, her voice breathless and pleading. “He didn’t mean it—he’s just…”

“A madman,” Lilith hissed, her fists curling tightly at her sides as if she could crush the very thought of him in her grasp. Her button eyes glinted in the dim light, hard and unyielding. “He’s always been a madman, dragging us into his twisted delusions, and now he’s doing it again.”

Joker hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor as if the wooden boards might provide some answer.

“Maybe…” she said, her voice wavering like a delicate thread ready to snap. “Maybe he’s not entirely wrong. About the invitation, I mean. It’s strange that we’re all here, isn’t it?”

Lilith froze mid-step, spinning to face Joker with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“Don’t you start with this nonsense, too,” she snapped, her tone trembling with both frustration and something deeper—fear. “We left Hullabaloo behind. That place is nothing but ash, and good riddance. Digging up its ghosts will only lead to more pain.”

“It’s just…” Joker faltered, biting her bottom lip as if trying to stop her words from escaping. Her button eyes flickered nervously; their vibrant hues dimmed by unease. “I’m worried…”

Lilith’s expression softened at once, the sharp edges of her anger melting away. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and gentle, like approaching a frightened animal.

“What’s wrong, Eve?” she asked, her voice tender now, coaxing.

Joker stiffened at the sound of her real name, her breath hitching in her chest. Lilith reached out, her slim fingers curling around Joker’s hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“Tell me,” Lilith urged, her gaze locking with Joker’s. “What’s wrong?”

Joker raised her head slowly, meeting Lilith’s gaze. Her voice came out in a trembling whisper. “It’s just… the play.”

“The script?” Lilith asked, her string-threaded brow arching in curiosity.

Joker nodded, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “The nursery rhyme. It talks about five children… then four children because…”

“Because one wandered off and got eaten by the Big Bad Wolf,” Lilith finished, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You think it means something?”

Joker swallowed, her grip on Lilith’s hand tightening. “I think it means one of us is meant to die,” she said quietly, her voice laced with an intensity that made the air feel heavier. “And… I’m scared it might be you. Out of you and Lucifer, you’ve always been the ones at the centre of everything. It would make sense, but…”

Her voice cracked, and her button eyes shimmered faintly. “I just… I don’t want it to be you.”

Lilith’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Joker’s voice. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and tightened her grip on Joker’s hand.

“Hey,” she murmured, stepping even closer. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Eve. Nothing bad is going to happen to any of us. I won’t let it.”

Joker hesitated, her lips trembling as though she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the strength. Finally, she gave a small nod, though her doubt lingered in the way she glanced at the floor.

“Tell you what,” Lilith said, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Why don’t you sleep in my room tonight? Just like old times.”

Joker blinked, taken aback. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” Lilith coaxed, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’ll be fun. Like when we were younger. Remember all those sleepovers we had?”

Joker gave her a flat look, her brow raising slightly. “Before Steve, you mean.”

The mention of the name hit Lilith like a sudden gust of wind, her playful expression faltering. She flinched, her gaze dropping away as guilt clouded her features.

“I’m… sorry, Eve,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Really. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. I never wanted to…”

Joker sighed, her button eyes narrowing with regret. “No, no. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to bring Steve up like that.”

Lilith glanced back up, her eyes shimmering faintly in the low light. She offered a small, hesitant smile. “We’ve both been through a lot. But we’ve got each other now, right?”

Joker hesitated before nodding. “Right.”

As they continued down the dim hallway, their hands still loosely clasped, neither noticed the shadow that had slithered silently from the corner. It lingered in the dark, its unseen eyes burning with a fierce intensity as it watched them. The faintest flicker of movement betrayed its presence before it disappeared, swallowed by the shadows once more.

The dim corridors of the mansion stretched endlessly, the faint glow of flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Michael walked with measured steps, his warm gaze shifting often to Adam, who shuffled beside him. Adam’s ghostly white skin almost seemed to glow in the dim light, his fragile, bulbous body moving awkwardly under the weight of his limbs. The soft click and scrape of his mechanical appendages echoed faintly, the sharp front blades dragging slightly on the uneven floor.

"Careful now," Michael said gently, his voice as steady and reassuring as the warmth of a hearth on a cold night. He reached out, his hand brushing against Adam’s shoulder to guide him around a splintered edge of a doorframe. “These old halls can be tricky.”

Adam nodded, his button eyes blinking with uncertainty. His spindly back limbs twitched, adjusting his balance with every step.

“I… I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice tremulous, barely louder than the scrape of his own limbs. “I’m slowing you down.”

Michael chuckled softly, the sound light and comforting. “You’re not slowing me down at all. We all need a steady hand sometimes.”

He paused, waiting for Adam to maneuverer past a particularly narrow section of the hall. “Lucifer wasn’t always like this, you know.”

Adam’s movements faltered; his curiosity piqued. He tilted his head, his button eyes glinting in the low light. “He… wasn’t? What was he like?”

Michael smiled wistfully, his gaze momentarily distant as though peering into a brighter time.

“Lucifer,” he began, his voice touched with a tinge of nostalgia, “was the golden boy. The star of the show. And not just because he was eye-catching—though, let’s be honest, he was.”

He chuckled, his tone softening further. “No, it was something more than that. He had this… magnetism about him. An allure you couldn’t quite put into words. He could light up the stage, draw the audience in with just a smile and a wink. He had this way of making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the world, even if just for a moment.”

Adam’s fractured frame leaned forward slightly, his interest palpable. “He sounds… amazing.”

Michael nodded, his expression tinged with both pride and sadness. “He was. And in some ways, he still is. But…”

His voice trailed off, his brows furrowing. “Well, life has a way of wearing people down. Sometimes, what’s left doesn’t look much like what used to be.”

Adam was quiet for a moment, his limbs twitching nervously.

 “I… I think I understand that,” he said softly, his voice almost inaudible. “Maybe too much.”

Michael slowed, turning to face Adam fully. His warm brown eyes studied the younger man, his expression softening further. “I’m sorry if Lucifer frightened you earlier,” he said gently. “He’s… not himself, but he means well. I promise.”

Adam hesitated, his button eyes lowering. “Is… Is he alright?”

Michael let out a soft hum, his hand resting lightly on Adam’s shoulder. “Trauma does frightening things to people, Adam. It twists memories, reshapes the way we see the world—and ourselves.”

Adam sniffled quietly, turning his button eyes away.

“I… I get that,” he murmured. His mechanical limbs creaked slightly as he shifted his weight. “Maybe… more than I should.”

Michael tilted his head, his curiosity flickering to life. He hesitated for a moment, his lips parting as if to ask a question, but then he stopped himself. His gaze flickered to the spider-like contraption enveloping Adam’s body, but he bit down on his tongue, forcing the words back.

Noticing the silence, Adam looked up, his button eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

“Michael?” he asked hesitantly.

Michael blinked, then smiled, ruffling Adam’s wiry hair gently. “Nothing, kiddo. I just remembered—my companion’s waiting for me outside. I should hurry to him.”

He paused, glancing down the dim corridor. “Will you be alright getting to your room from here?”

Adam nodded mutely, though his limbs twitched with a faint tremor. “I… I think so.”

Michael gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Good. Take care, alright?”

He stepped back, his smile lingering as he turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the hall.

Left alone, Adam stood still for a moment, his button eyes reflecting the dim light. The scrape of his limbs echoed as he finally turned toward his room, the soft, distant echoes of Michael’s voice still warm in his mind. But in the deep shadows behind him, something else stirred—a faint rustle, a whisper of movement, watching, waiting.

The mansion’s dim corridors gave way to a hollow silence as Adam crept toward his little hideaway beneath the grand staircase. His limbs, both natural and mechanical, clicked and whirred softly in the quiet, his hulking, fractured form stooping to avoid hitting the low arch. His hidey hole, a cramped nook stuffed with discarded blankets and broken furniture, was all he had managed to claim as his own. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe.

Adam was about to settle in when a peculiar sound broke the silence—a faint, almost imperceptible hum. He froze, his large button-green eyes blinking as he listened intently. The sound came again, distant and ethereal, like the tinkling of glass chimes carried on the wind. It seemed to come from the back of the mansion, toward the door leading to the gardens.

He hesitated, his spindly limbs twitching uncertainly. Lucifer’s furious words echoed in his mind from the first time he had tried to sneak outside.

“Don’t you dare! It’s dangerous out there, Adam! You’ll break yourself—or worse!”

Adam bit his lip, the green buttons of his eyes darting toward the staircase. He should stay. He knew he should stay. Yet something about the sound tugged at him, like an invisible thread drawing him closer. Before he could stop himself, his limbs moved, skittering softly against the floor as he made his way toward the back of the mansion.

The heavy door to the gardens loomed before him, frost curling at the edges of the glass panes. Snow piled high against the doorframe, the faint shimmer of moonlight reflecting off the drifts outside. Adam hesitated, one of his spider-like front appendages tapping nervously at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, his thoughts tangled between fear of upsetting Lucifer and the overwhelming urge to see what lay beyond.

Just as he was about to turn back, his eyes caught movement—a flicker of something outside in the snow. His curiosity sparked like a live wire, and before he could think better of it, he unlatched the door and pushed it open.

The icy air bit at his pale skin as he stepped out into the snow. The storm was quiet at first, snowflakes drifting lazily down to rest on his mechanical limbs. Adam’s button eyes shone with a childlike wonder as he took in the maze of garden gates ahead. Each gate seemed to lead to a hidden world of its own, shrouded in white and mystery. He longed to explore them all, to uncover their secrets.

But as he moved deeper into the snow, the chill began to gnaw at him. His emaciated artificial limbs stiffened, the joints freezing with each step. The spider suit let out faint pings and buzzing sounds, but Adam paid it little mind, too captivated by the allure of the gardens.

Until he couldn’t move.

A jarring creak brought him to a halt. Adam blinked in confusion, his front limbs jerking uselessly as he tried to move forward. The buzzing grew louder, a desperate sound of strain, as his joints locked tight. Panic flickered across his face as he struggled to understand. The freezing snow had begun to bite deeper, seizing his mechanical body in its icy grip.

A worried squeal escaped his lips as he fought against the immobility, his back limbs thrashing. The suit wouldn’t budge. Instead, a new kind of pain crept in, dull at first but growing sharper as his body began to succumb to the cold. Adam shivered violently, his ghostly skin flushing a faint bluish hue. His breath hitched in short gasps, the storm around him suddenly feeling like a living thing, suffocating and relentless.

“Help…” he croaked, his voice barely audible over the rising howl of the wind.

Snowflakes blurred his vision, and he squinted, trying to see through the storm. A dark figure loomed ahead, faint and distant. Relief surged in him.

“P-please…” Adam’s voice cracked as he tried to call out, but the words caught in his throat. The figure grew clearer, but instead of approaching to help, it lunged forward with terrifying speed.

Adam gasped, his body jerking back, but his frozen limbs couldn’t defend him. A sharp blow struck him, sending him sprawling into the snow. The spider suit cracked and splintered under the force, the long legs shattering at the joints. Adam crumpled, his fragile body slumping forward as the snow engulfed him. His vision blurred further as the dark figure walked past him without a second glance, vanishing into the storm.

Time seemed to stretch into an endless haze of cold and pain. Adam’s breathing was shallow, his body trembling uncontrollably. But then, a new presence appeared—a large brown boar, its fur patched and tangled with dry leaves, its button eyes wide with alarm. The creature let out a whine, rushing to Adam’s side and pressing its warm bulk against him.

The boar huddled close, its body shielding Adam from the worst of the storm. The snowstorm raged on, but the boar stayed firm, letting out soft, mournful sounds as it tried to keep the broken boy alive in the unforgiving cold.

The next morning, Lucifer woke with a knot of unease twisting in his stomach. He had expected Lilith to avoid him after their confrontation, but the absence of Adam was far more troubling. Adam hadn't even shown up for breakfast, something that, while not entirely uncommon, now felt ominous.

Lucifer paced the corridors of their shared space, eventually finding himself in the lounge. It was where Adam seemed to spend most of his time, nestled in his peculiar spider-like contraption, with its buzzing servos and faint clanks filling the air like an unsettling metronome. But today, the lounge was eerily silent. Lucifer frowned, the absence of those sounds feeling wrong. Adam never ventured far, and Lucifer couldn’t recall ever seeing him on the upper floors.

He sighed, making his way upstairs. Passing his own room, he stopped in front of the door adjacent to it—the one with Adam’s name etched delicately on a brass plate. Raising his hand, he rapped on the wood, his knuckles echoing softly in the corridor.

“Adam?” he called, voice low, almost hesitant. “It’s me, Lucifer. Uh… I’m coming in, okay?”

No response. Not even the faintest whir of mechanical limbs. Lucifer felt the unease grow heavier in his chest as he twisted the ornate black bat-flower handle and pushed the door open.

The room was small but inviting, its walls painted a warm shade of cream. A double bed was neatly tucked against the far wall, untouched and perfectly made. A simple desk stood beneath a large window, its surface spotless, as if no one had ever sat there to write or think. A modest fireplace directly opposite the door remained unlit, its hearth clean and free of ash. The room was pristine, utterly devoid of life, and cold in a way that wasn’t just temperature.

Lucifer’s eyebrows knit together as he scanned the space.

“No signs of life at all,” he muttered. It was as though Adam had never set foot in this room, let alone lived in it for weeks.

“Lucifer?”

The voice behind him startled him, and he turned sharply to see Michael peeking through the doorway, his expression one of mild confusion. “What are you doing in here? Is Adam with you?”

Lucifer shook his head, stepping aside so Michael could enter. “No, I was looking for him. Come in and—tell me what’s wrong with this picture.”

Michael stepped inside, his button-like eyes flickering around the room. A slight frown tugged at his stitched mouth.

“It’s… too cold,” he said after a moment, his tone soft but heavy with worry. “Too clean. It’s not lived in.”

Nodding grimly, Lucifer crossed his arms. “And Adam… he can’t even get up the staircase, can he?”

Michael’s head tilted, realization dawning. “Oh, no.”

Lucifer groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. “Of course, he can’t. How did I miss that? He’s probably been sleeping somewhere downstairs this whole time.”

“He’s always in the lounge. He must have found somewhere nearby.”

Determined now, they left the untouched room behind and descended the stairs in silence. Their search brought them to the cupboard beneath the staircase, a tiny space that felt more like a grave than a home. As they opened the door, the smell of dampness hit them, and their eyes took in the cramped quarters. Blankets, haphazardly folded, lined the floor, while a few small trinkets and personal items sat forlornly on a makeshift shelf. It was cold. Miserable.

Making a distressed sound, Michael paled. “Why didn’t he tell us he couldn’t go upstairs? We would have found him somewhere better than this.”

Lucifer didn’t answer. His chest ached as his gaze lingered on the sad little nook. He stood abruptly, eyes narrowing.

“Where is he, Michael? He’s not here. I thought he would be, but…”

Michael looked up at him, his worry reflecting back. “I don’t know, Luci. He’s not here.”

Lucifer clenched his fists. A wave of guilt and panic swept over him. The image of Adam, fragile and quiet, burdened with both his mechanical limbs and whatever internal scars he carried, weighed heavily in his mind. Where could he have gone? Why hadn’t they noticed sooner?

“Michael,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but taut with determination. “We need to find him. Now.”

The mansion felt suffocating as Lucifer and Michael tore through it, calling out Adam’s name in every hall and room. Each shadow, each creak of the old wood, sent their hopes rising only to dash them cruelly. The cold silence of the house pressed against their ears, and with every empty corner, Lucifer’s anxiety grew.

When they finally met in the grand foyer, their expressions were mirrors of each other—haunted and worried.

“Seen anything?” Lucifer asked, his voice tight. His eyes darted toward Michael, searching for any sign of hope.

Swallowing thickly, Michael’s button eyes dim with worry. “No sign of him.”

Lucifer bit his bottom lip, teeth catching the soft fabric nervously. “Where could he have gone?” His voice cracked, his hands twitching at his sides.

Michael reached out and patted his shoulder gently. “We’ll find him, Luci. I promise.”

Before Lucifer could respond, an icy gust swept through the foyer, making both of them shudder. The chill wasn’t just cold—it felt unnatural, piercing. They turned their heads in unison, their eyes widening in horror at the sight of the mansion’s back door hanging ajar. Snow and frost crept in through the frame, painting the stone floor in a slick, frigid glaze.

“You don’t think…” Michael’s breath hitched audibly.

Lucifer’s face drained of colour, and he staggered forward, his knees threatening to buckle.

“Adam!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation as he bolted toward the door.

Michael yelped and sprinted after him, struggling to keep pace. “Lucifer, wait!”

The pair burst into the blinding whiteness outside, snow swallowing their legs nearly to their knees. The storm had subsided, leaving a quiet, oppressive stillness in its wake. The entire estate was blanketed in a thick, unbroken layer of snow, turning the gardens into an alien, desolate expanse.

“Adam!” Lucifer shouted again, cupping his hands around his mouth as he pushed forward. His voice echoed, but no response came.

A sudden high-pitched whine broke the silence, followed by a jerky movement in the snow ahead.

“My companion!”

He dashed toward the source of the noise, Michael’s feet slipping and sliding in the deep snow. The small boar bounded toward him, its legs struggling against the icy terrain.

“Where were you last night?” Michael murmured, dropping to his knees as the boar nudged him frantically.

The boar let out another whine, bouncing in place and pawing at a patch of snow beside it. Michael tilted his head in confusion, then began brushing the snow away with trembling hands. His button eyes widened as his fingers touched something solid.

“Lucifer! Get over here!” Michael’s voice cracked with urgency.

Lucifer stumbled through the snow to his side, falling to his knees and helping Michael dig. Together, they uncovered the still, fragile form of Adam, his thin limbs curled against the cold. The shattered remains of his mechanical spider frame were half-buried beneath him, twisted and broken beyond recognition.

“I-Is he…” Lucifer’s voice faltered as he stared at Adam’s pale face, his lips faintly blue.

Pressing a finger beneath Adam’s nose and Michael exhaled in relief. “He’s alive. Barely.”

His hands trembled as he brushed snow from Adam’s face. “We need to get him inside. Now.”

Michael turned to his boar, patting its head firmly. “Good job, my friend. You found him and took care of him.”

The boar whined again, its expressive eyes darting between Michael and Adam.

It was a monumental effort to haul Adam’s frail body, along with the wreckage of the spider frame, back to the mansion. The snow clung to their legs and sapped their strength, but neither of them stopped. By the time they collapsed onto the mansion’s stone floor, their breaths were ragged, clouds of vapor puffing in the cold air.

Michael stumbled back, leaning against a nearby wall. “It’s too heavy. How in the world does Adam manage to move in that thing?”

Crouching beside Adam, Lucifer’s sharp eyes scanning the battered mechanical frame. The spider-like limbs were cracked and splintered, as though someone had tried to saw them off.

Adam stirred faintly, a weak murmur escaping his lips. “It… hurts,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Chest tightening, Lucifer inched closer, his fingers brushing Adam’s cold, damp hair from his face. “What hurts, Adam? What happened to you?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

Shaking his head, Michael kneeled beside them. “He’s delirious. We need to get him somewhere warmer. Fast.”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on the shattered contraption attached to Adam’s fragile body. His lips curled in frustration.

“This thing…” he growled through clenched teeth. “This thing is no help to him anymore.”

“What are you doing?” Michael’s voice was sharp with alarm as Lucifer reached for the shawl draped over the spider frame.

Hands moved deftly, ignoring Michael’s protests. “I’m taking him out of this,” Lucifer snapped. “It’s hurting him.”

Grabbing his wrist, Michael gasped out helplessly.  “Lucifer, stop! We don’t know how it’s connected to him! You could kill him—”

Lucifer froze, his hand hovering above the shawl. He glanced down at Adam’s face, contorted in pain even in unconsciousness.

“He can’t stay in this,” he whispered. “It’s killing him already.”

Hesitating, Michael’s grip slackened. His gaze fell to Adam’s trembling form, his small body visibly struggling against the mechanical frame.

“Fine,” Michael said at last, his voice trembling. “But we need to be careful. If we do this wrong…”

Lucifer nodded grimly. “We’ll be careful.”

His hands moved again; this time slower, more deliberate. “But I’m not letting him suffer like this.”

The room was silent except for the faint clinks and creaks of metal as Lucifer and Michael knelt beside Adam, their breaths tight with focus and worry. Adam lay limp, his ghostly white skin stark against the dark wood floor. The fractures tracing his bulbous body gleamed faintly in the dim light, and his sickly pale green limbs looked even more emaciated than usual, trembling slightly even in unconsciousness. The mechanical spider contraption wrapped around him loomed like a cruel cage, its rusty limbs and bladed appendages adding to the grotesque sight.

Lucifer’s hands hovered over the contraption, unsure where to begin. Michael fidgeted beside him before standing abruptly.

“Wait here—I’ll grab my toolbox.”

He dashed out of the room, returning moments later with a battered red box in hand. He set it down between them, popping it open and pulling out a screwdriver. Handing it to Lucifer, Michael admitted sheepishly, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Lucifer gave a weak, grim smile. “Neither do I.”

He took the screwdriver and rested a hand lightly on Adam’s side, careful not to press too hard. “But we don’t have much choice. Adam’s been suffering because of this blasted thing, and the best thing for him right now is to be free of it.”

Michael nodded, his button eyes wide and anxious. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

Unscrewing what looked like bolts at the base of the metal frame, Lucifer’s movements slow and precise. Michael watched closely, holding his breath with every turn of the tool. The rusty screws resisted at first, but one by one, they began to come loose.

Just as Lucifer removed one of the larger screws at the back, he gasped sharply, his hand freezing in place.

“What? What’s wrong?” Michael leaned closer, panic flashing in his expression.

“He’s… bleeding. The screws—” Lucifer’s voice wavered. His throat tightened. “They were drilled into him.”

Michael’s button eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. Oh no. Wait! There’s a first aid kit around here—I saw it earlier!”

He scrambled to his feet, rushing to a nearby cabinet and flinging it open. Grabbing the kit, he hurried back and dropped to his knees beside Lucifer. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the latches.

Lucifer, his own hands shaking, carefully parted the fabric of Adam’s shirt, revealing the puncture wounds beneath. Bright red droplets beaded at each spot where the screws had dug into his fragile frame. Michael opened the kit and handed Lucifer gauze and antiseptic, his voice barely a whisper.

“We have to stop the bleeding.”

Together, they worked in tense silence, their hands shaking as they cleaned and dressed the wounds. Adam stirred faintly, a weak whimper escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake.

“Maybe Lilith would know what to do,” Michael suggested, his voice strained.

Lucifer didn’t respond, his focus locked on the contraption. He couldn’t stop now, not when Adam was so close to freedom. Finally, the last piece of metal pressing against Adam’s body was loose. Lucifer set down the screwdriver and gently circled his arms around Adam’s middle.

Kneeling beside him, Michael’s voice was soft but firm. “Ready?”

Nodding, Lucifer button eyes large and filled with both determination and fear. Slowly, he began to pull Adam back. For a heart-stopping moment, he expected resistance, some hidden tether or mechanism that would stop him. But there was nothing. Adam slid free, limp and small in Lucifer’s arms.

Blinking in disbelief, Lucifer’s breath hitching as he stared down at Adam’s frail body. His legs buckled, and he sank back onto the floor, cradling Adam in his lap. The doll-man was far thinner and smaller than Lucifer had realized. His limbs, truncated and malformed, were even more fragile than they appeared within the spider frame.

“He has phocomelia,” Michael mumbled, his voice filled with quiet realization.

Lucifer barely heard him. He drew Adam closer, his thumb brushing tenderly over Adam’s forehead before pressing a soft kiss there. His breath shuddered, and his voice was barely audible as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

Michael placed a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, his tone gentle but firm. “We need to get him upstairs. Clean his wounds properly. Put him to bed so he can rest.”

Wordlessly, Lucifer nodded. His movements slow and deliberate as he rose to his feet, Adam held securely in his arms. His legs wobbled, but he steadied himself, his grip on Adam unwavering. He held Adam bridal style, Adam’s head resting on his shoulder. He spared the frozen contraption one last burning look before Lucifer turned his back to it.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Let’s take him upstairs...”

Lilith and Eve were nestled together in Lilith's bed, their limbs tangled beneath the heavy quilts. The two had stayed up late, whispering and laughing like children sharing secrets. Lilith was the first to wake, her button eyes softening as she watched Eve sleep, a small, peaceful smile on her lips. She reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from Eve’s face when a sudden shout pierced the quiet.

"Joker! Lilith! Where are you guys?!" Lucifer’s voice echoed through the hallways, frantic and sharp.

Eve stirred, whining softly as she blinked up at Lilith through half-lidded eyes.

 “What’s going on?” she mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Lilith replied, her voice low but uneasy.

They slipped out of bed and padded into the hallway, the cold of the floor biting at their feet as they followed the sound of muffled voices. The unease in Lilith’s chest deepened when they entered Adam’s room. Her button eyes landed on the bed, and she gasped.

“Is that… Adam?” she whispered.

Standing at the bedside, Lucifer careful tucking another blanket around Adam’s fragile body. Michael hovered nearby, slipping a hot water bottle under the layers of quilts. Lucifer’s expression was grim as he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

Eve swallowed hard. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Lilith stepped forward hesitantly, her hand rising instinctively to touch Adam’s bandaged shoulder. Before she could, Lucifer’s hand shot out, slapping hers away. She flinched, her button eyes widening as she stared at him in shock.

“I just…” Lucifer stammered, his face flushing. “I just don’t want him to be hurt more than he already is. Sorry.”

Lilith nodded mutely, stepping back. Her button eyes flickered around the room, landing on Adam’s familiar shawl draped over the desk. Something about its presence unsettled her. She moved towards it, her hands trembling as she picked it up. It was icy cold, sending a chill up her arms.

“We don’t know what happened,” Michael explained, his voice quiet but strained. “My companion found him out in the middle of the gardens like this. If they hadn’t kept him warm…”

His voice broke off. “He might have died from hypothermia.”

Lilith tightened her grip on the shawl, her throat tightening. “What was he doing outside? That’s dangerous!”

Head snapping toward her, Lucifer’s glare sharp. “We don’t know. I told him not to go out there. I warned him the snow would damage… that contraption.”

Eve’s voice was barely audible as she murmured, “You took him out of it?”

“Yes,” Lucifer huffed, his expression hardening. “It was useless to him now. Only causing him more pain.”

Michael straightened after adding yet another blanket to the pile. His voice was grave. “His prosthetics… they looked like someone tried to saw them off.”

The words sent a gasp from Eve, her button eyes widening in horror. Lilith barely heard them, her focus drawn to the weight of something in the shawl’s pocket. Sliding a hand inside, her fingers brushed cold glass. She fished out a small bottle, and as she did, a yellow piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

Her gaze flicked between the bottle and the paper. The moment her button eyes landed on the label, she let out a sharp, startled sound.

Lucifer turned to her, his brows knitting together. “What is it?”

Holding the bottle aloft, Lilith’s voice trembling. “These…”

Michael stepped closer, taking the bottle from her hands. He examined it, his face growing grim. “Pain medication?”

“No.” Lilith shook her head violently. “These are strong. They can cause hallucinations, alter moods… they’re banned for a reason.”

Lucifer was at her side in an instant, snatching the bottle and popping the lid off. His jaw tightened as he stared at the small pills inside.

“Who would give these to Adam?” he growled, his voice thick with anger.

Lilith crouched down to retrieve the yellow paper, her hands shaking as she unfolded it. Her face went pale as she read its contents.

Michael noticed her sudden stillness. “Lilith? What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she held the paper out. Lucifer took it, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. His button eyes grew so wide they seemed ready to pop off his face.

“This is…” His voice trailed off, a rare tremor lacing his usually confident tone. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he finished, “...This is impossible.”

“…Zestial’s alive?”

[you-expect-too-much]

I’ll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake ✨

[zaczenemiji]

I really wanted to ask if you could do like a GN! It can be fem too it doesn’t really matter—

The Reader where like Ultraman can transform bigger too but they're more inspired by Mothra (like a mothra suit). I think it would've been like so cute to see Emi go all awe and clingy to the reader because how bright and heavenly they look💕

Kenji gets all jealous seeing his kajju daughter prefer the reader over him a lil bit. tall parents raising baby monster

Emi’s Favorite

Kenji Sato x Reader

Word Count: 1,546

Genre/Warning: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Jealousy (very slight)

Author’s Note: Loved this idea so much, thank you for this first request! Emi with a moth mommy ⋆˚ʚɞ

MASTERLIST

Something about your boyfriend changed the night after Gigantron’s “attack” on Tokyo Dome. That night, you were supposed to help him fend the kaiju off but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

For some reason, you were glad you did not join in because (1) their fight became a pursuit in the sky, and (2) you could not zoom in the air the same way Ultraman does. The only reason you’re able to fly is because of your wings—moth wings on your suit, which would put you at a disadvantage in the case of an air chase.

You were supposed to come over to his place that night to check on him because you were sure that the skirmish had caused more damage to his already injured shoulder. However, your calls were left answered by Mina, telling you that Kenji had already fallen asleep.

Deciding not to disturb him, you simply let him be. But in the days that followed, something surely wasn’t right. He couldn’t focus on his games, he looked so fatigued and restless all the time, and oh good gracious, there were now dark circles under his eyes.

He just looks so stressed and you were so upset with the fact that he didn’t want to tell you what’s going on with him. The time he got into a fight with the other players was the end of the line for you.

You barged into his house, finding him by his bathtub, in front of a TV, watching the news about him. The usually peaceful atmosphere in his house was now charged with tension as you made your way towards him. At that moment, Kenji was praying so hard the kaiju in his basement would keep still.

He still wouldn’t tell you what’s wrong. “It’s not about us. It’s about…” he said, “…something bigger. Something I’m not ready to share yet.”

Your eyes softened at his response, though the ache in your chest remained. You made him promise to talk to you when he’s ready and he agreed. You can’t stand seeing the love of your life like that but at the same time, you didn’t want to force him to do anything against his will. Taking up Ultraman was already enough of that.

Almost two months, after the incident, he seemed back to his old shape. Better, even. And thank heavens, finally, he could now tell you about what happened.

“There’s a what below?!” You asked in disbelief. The two of you were standing in front of the elevator and for a moment, you think your ears are playing tricks on you.

“A baby kaiju,” he replied and went on to explain everything. Still in disbelief, you took in everything with a nod. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you into the elevator.

The moment you saw the big pink baby, you gasped. Emi made happy noises as you approached. However, upon noticing you, she suddenly began to cry.

Kenji was tapping on the glass containment in an attempt to shush her. But to no avail, Emi just cried harder.

“I’m sorry, she doesn’t know you yet,” Kenji apologized. “But I assure you, she’s a sweet big baby.”

Remembering how, at first, Emi only recognized Kenji when he was Ultraman, you decided to try something.

“(Y/n), what are you—“ Before Kenji finished, a soft glow enveloped you, and moments later, you emerged in your giant form. Your wings spread wide, shimmering with black patterns and warm tones of yellow and orange.

Emi’s cries slowed, her curiosity piqued by the sudden change. She opened her eyes, sobs turning to soft hiccups as she stared up at you in wonder. Her claws tapped the glass as she reached out, trying to grasp your wings.

Kenji watched in awe as Emi’s distress melted away. “I think it’s working,” he whispered.

“May I?” You asked, gesturing to the lid of the containment unit. Kenji gave a nod of approval. Carefully, you turned it before lifting it off.

You lowered yourself closer to Emi, your wings fluttering softly as she climbed up her containment. The gentle breeze they created seemed to soothe her further.

Emi let out a delighted squeal, her earlier tears forgotten. She toddled closer to you, her claws gently touching the edge of your wing. She let out a happy chirp, eyes sparkling with joy.

Kenji stepped closer, a relieved smile spreading across his face. “Wow, she loves you in this form,” he said.

You smiled down at him. “She’s just like her dad,” you replied. “She knows a good thing when she sees it.”

Kenji chuckled before he himself transformed into Ultraman. He sat beside you with Emi in between the two of you.

Your wings gently enveloped Emi in a comforting embrace. She was now calm and happy as she traced the pattern of your wings with her claw.

“Gentle, baby,” Kenji said as he rubbed her head.

She continued walking around you and playing with your wings until she tired herself out. She walked in front of you and climbed on your lap, nestling her head on your stomach.

“Awww, baby,” you cooed. You gently picked her up into your arms and gently swayed.

Kenji moved close to you, wrapping an arm around you. You nestled into his arm, head resting on the junction of his neck and shoulders. The three of you slept like that for the night.

The next morning when Emi awoke, she immediately looked for you. Realizing that the moth lady was missing, she cried. Mina was quick to assist her, playing videos of cartoons and Kenji to calm her. To Mina’s surprise, none of them worked.

“Who’s making my baby cry?” Kenji asked as he approached. He expected her crying to cease once she saw him. However, that is not the case.

“Huh?” He questioned. Emi always calms when she sees him. “Mina, try showing her pictures of (y/n).”

Mina did as told and as miraculously as yesterday, Emi stopped crying. “It seems like she got herself a new mother,” Mina commented.

With Emi’s growing fondness of you, you found yourself frequenting at Kenji’s house more than ever. She was just so cute; like a live plushie when you’re in your giant form.

“Hi babyyyy,” you cooed as you transformed into your giant form. You scooped her up, her head nuzzling against you. Her earlier play was abandoned in favor of your presence.

You walked in on Kenji and Emi playing baseball together. And you didn’t mean to interrupt but when you saw her walking towards you, you knew you had to transform.

Kenji smiled at the scene. “She really loves you, you know,” he said.

You smiled back, feeling a warm glow inside. “I love her too,” you replied. “She’s such a sweetheart.”

Emi chirped happily as she climbed up your torso and onto your shoulder where she could watch and touch your wings.

Kenji watched the interaction, his smile fading slightly as a twinge of jealousy crept in. His baby kaiju shows a different kind of joy when you’re around.

He loved Emi dearly, but lately, it seemed like she preferred your company over his. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sidelined.

“She really lights up when you’re here,” Kenji said, trying to keep his tone light.

You glanced at him, noticing the slight edge in his voice. “She lights up when you’re here too, Kenji,” you replied. “She loves you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, but… it feels like she’s more excited to see you than me sometimes.”

You tapped the space on the floor beside you, gesturing for him to switch to Ultraman. Thankfully, he did not resist.

You moved close to him as he sat beside you, his hand finding its way to your thigh. Your head automatically rested on his shoulder.

“You’re her dad, Kenji,” you said. “She loves you so much. Maybe she’s just fascinated by my wings right now.”

You felt Kenji nod, although the jealousy still lingered within him. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “I just want to be enough for her.”

You leaned back to look at him. Your other hand which was not holding Emi on your shoulder, moved up to hold his face. “You are enough. You’re everything to her,” you said. “And to me.”

Emi squirmed out of your hand, gently jumping off your shoulder and landing on your lap. She toddled over to Kenji. He looked down at her, his heart melting as she reached up, wanting to be held. He picked her up, and she nuzzled against his chest, purring softly.

“See?” You asked with a smile. “She adores you.”

Kenji hugged Emi close, his jealousy fading into thin air. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

You spent the rest of the day playing with Emi, taking turns holding her and making her laugh. By the time evening rolled around, she was content and sleepy in Kenji’s arms.

Before reverting to your original form, you kissed Emi’s head and then leaned in to kiss Kenji. “I’ll be back soon,” you said. “Take care of our little one.”

Kenji smiled, his earlier worries forgotten. “We’ll be here, waiting.”

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@scribble0rat

[not-neverland06]

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

Co Parents To Lovers Again (part 3)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Warnings: fluff, smut this is the last part so I hope you enjoy it!!

part 2

It would be an understatement to say that Charles was over the moon when you and Louise showed up in the paddock on the race day. He was so delighted and happy that he had a hard time hiding it, and everyone present could see it.

He didn't separate from Lou, and he thanked you several times for bringing her and for coming with her telling you how much that meant to him.

Of course, you both attracted the attention of all the media, knowing that tomorrow the main news on the internet will be how Charles' ex-girlfriend appeared with his daughter in the paddock for the first time after a full year since the breakup.

The cameras were everywhere, but having learned from previous experiences, you decided to ignore them and pretend they didn't exist. All you were focused on was giving your daughter an unforgettable weekend and supporting Charles as well.

Lou got hungry so you and Charles decided to get her something to eat at the Ferrari hospitality. Lou didn't know what she wanted to eat, so Charles decided to leave his things at your table, including his phone, and said he would go with her to the restaurant to choose. While Lou went with Charles, you sat down at the table and scrolled through your phone waiting for them to come back.

“Am I seeing things or is it really y/n?” A very familiar voice asked you, making you look up from your phone.

“Carlos!” You smiled from ear to ear as you stand up to hug him.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you in the paddock. How come you’re here?” He asks curiously.

“Lou had a hard time accepting that she wouldn't be spending this weekend with her dad, so...yeah, here we are.”

“Oh man, he’s gonna beat my ass on the track today..” Carlos says shaking his head.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little unsure of what he’s talking about.

“He always gives 110% on the track when Lou is there to support him, I can only imagine what it’ll be like today when you are there too.”

The two of you started catching up talking about what was new in your lives, what wasn't, and so on, until Carlos commented on Charles and Lou's relationship, saying that he really loves spending time with her and that he talks about her nonstop.

“She loves spending time with him too, he is her soulmate I’m sure.” You commented.

“And what about you? Is he your soulmate too?” Carlos asked catching you off guard.

Both you and Charles were close to Carlos and he pretty much knew everything about you and your relationship. He was also very angry with you when you broke up because he thought it was a bad decision and that you should have worked on your relationship and not give up on it so easily.

“I-I..” As you were trying to think of an answer to his question, at that very moment the screen of Charles's phone, which he had left on the table in front of you, lit up.

What caught your attention wasn't the notification he received, but your eyes got stuck on the wallpaper on his lock screen. It was a picture of you and Lou that Charles had taken shortly after you had given birth and came home from the hospital. You were lying on the bed and Lou was lying on your chest while you kissed her head.

It was a picture that was very dear to both you and Charles, and he had it as his wallpaper since the day he took it, and what surprised you the most was that he still had it to this day. Even though you were no longer together, he never changed it.

Carlos noticed what you were staring at and he basically took it as an answer to his question although he had already knew it.

“Uncle Carloss!!” Lou screamed with her mouth full of pizza as Charles carried her in his arms over to the table where Carlos and you were sitting.

“Hola, hermosa! Did you get hungry?” Carlos chuckled squeezing her cheek.

“Out of all the possible foods you can think of, my baby chose pizza.” Charles laughed sitting her down on the chair next to you.

You were completely lost in your thoughts and didn't even pay attention what the three of them were talking about. All you could think about was the picture you saw on Charles's phone and how you were getting closer to confessing your still deeply held feelings for him.

And of course today was just as Carlos said it would be. Not only did Charles beat Carlos’ ass on the track, but he also beat all the other drivers by proudly and deservedly taking P1. He couldn't let the win slip through his fingers in front of the two most important people in his life so he fought extra hard for it today.

When it was time to celebrate, your eyes filled with tears at how proud you were of him. First he celebrated with the team, then his eyes searched for you and Lou.

“You wanna congratulate daddy, baby?” You asked her and she nodded excitedly.

You pushed your way towards Charles with her in your arms and when you reached him he instantly hugged her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Good job, daddy!” She said.

“Thank you, baby. This one was for you.” He told her kissing her once again.

“Congratulations, Charles. We’re really proud of you.” You say softly smiling at him tears threatening to run down your cheeks.

“Thank you, y/n. Thank you for being here.” He said looking deep into your eyes.

The cameras went crazy over your family moment, closely capturing every interaction between you. It won't be until the next day when you see one of the taken photos of the two of you that it will become completely clear to you how your eyes are betraying you and showing how deeply and obviously in love you are with each other.

When the day was coming to an end, you didn't stay in the paddock any longer, but immediately got on the plane and flew to Monaco, all three of you together. Lou was completely exhausted and when you landed she was already asleep. Charles didn't offer but instead insisted on driving you to your apartment no matter how tired he was.

Charles, carefully so as not to wake her, carried her in his arms into her room and put her to bed. He kissed her goodnight before closing the door and going into the living room thinking he would say goodnight to you too.

“She’s sleeping like a log.” Charles chuckles quietly as he stands in front of you.

“Poor thing, she was so tired. She passed out as soon as we sat in the plane.”

“But I'm glad you came. Both of you. It really meant a lot to me to have you there.”

“I’m glad too. We had a lot of fun. Maybe we can come again sometime.” You say making him smile.

“Anytime you want” He says feeling that the conversation is slowly coming to an end. He wants to continue it so bad, but he knows that both of you are tired and with a heavy heart he has to leave, even though he would rather lie in bed with you now and hold you close to him all night.

“Okay, I’m gonna go now. It’s getting really late.” He says running his hand nervously through his hair while you bite the inside of your cheek so desperately wanting him to ask you if he can stay. “See you soon, yeah? Good night”

Before he turns around to head for the door, you decide that enough is enough. There have been so many obvious signs by now that it's not over between you and that you're still madly in love with each other that you don't want to waste another second being stubborn, but rather surrender to the moment and finally enjoy it.

“Or you can stay the night here..you know..i-if you want to” You blurt out stuttering the last part.

He turns slowly towards you. His expression is unreadable until he places his hands on your cheeks and asks you “Do you want me to stay?”

Without much hesitation, you nod your head and quietly say “I do.”

Initially, it was as if you were afraid to approach each other, as if you were afraid of each other's reaction even though both of you were hoping that the desire was mutual. Then his lips slowly and cautiously began coming closer and closer to yours.

At first, your lips just brushed, pulling back a little, and then they connected into a long, passionate and deep kiss that you both had been eagerly waiting for.

You felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders as you let out deep breaths in relief you didn't even know you were holding in.

Things were moving quickly and you didn't waste any time getting to your bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he picked you up and without breaking the kiss, carried you into the room and laid you down on the bed.

Exhaustion was long forgotten when you took each other's clothes off and started kissing every part of each other’s body.

“I missed you, I missed you so much you don’t even know” He said into the kiss, barely catching his breath from the intense excitement he felt.

“I missed you too, Charles” You half whisper as he pushes into you and one tear rolls down the side of your face.

It felt so good. He felt so good inside you, fit so perfectly like he was made for you. He wanted to make love to you, to show you how much he cares about you so he kept going on and on making your legs shake so many times throughout the night, kissing every inch of your body, pulling you closer to him to calm you down, breathing in your scent and getting lost in your eyes.

“I’m gonna cum, baby” His voice trembled as he rested his forehead against yours and pulled his cock out of you cumming all over your stomach, hands free, then pushing himself back in and wincing.

You fell asleep with him holding you close all night. His arms were hugging you so tightly, as if he was afraid that if he let go even just for a second, he would wake up and it would all be just a dream.

The morning sun's rays didn't let you sleep past eight, so you spontaneously woke up together still in the same position you fell asleep in.

“Good morning ma cherie” He said with a kiss to your lips.

“Morning baby” You smiled caressing his cheek with your thumb. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mhm, very well” He murmurs against your skin. “And you?”

“Me too. I haven't slept this peacefully in a long time.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yeah” You glance at the clock out of the corner of your eye and see that it's almost time for Lou to wake up. “Oh shit, Charles you need to leave, Lou is about to wake up” You say nervously, which completely confuses Charles.

“What? What do you mean I need to leave? Why can’t she know that I’m here?”

“It's not that she can’t know it’s just that I want us to take it slow this time. I'm afraid of screwing this up because it feels so good and so right and I don't know if I could handle us hurting each other again.” You sigh as you explain your reasons to him. “And most of all, I don't want to break Lou's heart.”

He pauses for a moment to think about what you just said and realizes that it makes sense and that you're right. “Okay, baby. Don’t worry we’ll take things slow to make it right this time.” After all, he just wants to fulfill all your wishes and wants to make you happy with whatever you want. “So when do I get to see you again?” He asks and you laugh at his silly question. “What?” He asks confused.

“It's funny that you ask me that. You can see us whenever you want. It's just for a short time until we see how things develop and then of course we'll live together again.”

“I can’t wait for that.”

Soon he got out of the bed and got dressed. He kissed you barely breaking away from you before heading out of the bedroom. The door to Lou's room was open and so he walked slowly on his tiptoes, not wanting to wake her up.

But he realized that was in vain when, passing by her room, he heard “Daddy?!” He stopped in his tracks, squeezing his eyes shut and cursing quietly under his breath.

She’d already seen him and he couldn't leave now or get out of the situation in any way, so he decided to go into her room and say good morning to her.

“Hey, baby. Good morning”

“What are you doing here?! Did you sleep here?!” She didn't know what to ask him first from how happy she was that it was morning and he was there.

When the two of them appeared at your bedroom door, it was clear to both you and Charles that from that moment on, you were all living together again.

“Hi there” Charles said holding her in his arms and looking at you.

You didn't say anything, you just covered your face with your hands and started laughing before you uncovered the quilt and said "come here, both of you"

@charlesgirl16 @aleatorio1234 @teamnovalak @watermelonslut @diaryofarandomkid @sunny44 @tempo-rary-fix @ggaslyp1 @janeh22 @seonghwaexile @seasonswinter @itgirlofthecenturysposts @ricciardosredbull @amz824 @sarx164 @seonghwaexile @landossainz @little-miss-naill @taygrls @sturmatt @myescapefromthislife @stylesmoonlight12 @st4rgirl-ellie @eloriis @sillyfreakfanparty @rebelliousneferut @kahhorri @hard4ndsoft @weekendlusting

[karinasbaby]

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 — SURPRISE 이희승

"surprise, slip my panties to the side."

PAIRING. lee heeseung x fem!reader (+17)

WARNINGS. mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, drunk hee (for a bit), cursing, bondage (ropes & handcuffs), hee is a bit angry n feral, his mood changes suddenly but it’s ok <3, bj + hj, oral (f & m), face sitting, lots of teasing, edging, overstimulation, fingering, pet names, praising !, multiple rounds (?), bath sex in a way, thigh riding, morning sex, pls tell me if i missed any !

WORD COUNT. 9.3k :0

SYNOPSIS. jaeyun pitched you one of his “genius” plans to celebrate heeseung’s birthday— but how will heeseung take it?

A, NOTE. happy new year my loves !! i would greatly appreciate it if we all ignored the fact that this was supposed to be published on hee’s birthday <3 it took me an unnecessarily long time to write, but i hope u enjoy ! + pls check a, note part 2 and the end <3 (this is also proofread at 4 am so 🙏🏼)

red and blue lights scattered messily across your vision, the smell of intoxicating alcohol, tobacco and sweat infiltrating your senses leaving you slightly light headed, your fingertips grasped at the hem of your dress, situated around your thighs to pull the mini dress lower, eyes roaming desperately for the towering figure of your boyfriend,

your boyfriend, lee heeseung— the birthday boy who god knows where he is right now.

you took cautious footsteps once you began to surround the approaching mass of people, sweaty bodies dancing restlessly in each and every corner of the house whilst your gaze roamed, hands clammy with sweat from the lack of air, your lungs constricting as it got harder to breathe the longer you stayed among the crowded room,

“there you are!” a familiar voiced boomed behind you, a feeling of relief washing down once you recognised the loud voice over the deafening music, jaeyun approached you with a large smile gracing his face, brown strands untidily cascading down his features as his arm wrapped around your exposed shoulder, the other hand bringing his drink closer to his mouth,

“enjoying the party?” you questioned next to his ear, taking in the sight of the slightly tipsy man who was busy winking at a random girl across the room, “of course!” he quickly replied, catching your amused gaze with his twinkling one.

“i’m here to tell you about a surprise for heeseung,” he spoke, hand lowering from your shoulder to wrap around your waist as he led you away, “a surprise? i already have a gift for him though.” jake’s flushed face turned towards yours after he signalled the random girl to a different room, “i have a better idea.” he giggled

and whilst you were being walked out of the room, your eyes caught the sight of heeseung’s wet form out of the window, standing besides the pool as his other friends encouraged him to drink more while other figures jumped into the pool, the view of him being covered by nothing more than his dripping white button up shirt that carved all his chiseled muscles out along with a black tie hanging loosely around his neck made your head reel, thoughts rushed to your head when your gaze dropped lower to his flexing thighs beneath his black pants,

his clothing material all soaked due to his previous jump into the water, as a result of a stupid dare. you could hear his drunken laughter over the music as his face kept getting warmer, a soft blush adorning his sharp features due to the alcohol, his black locks sticking to his forehead contrasting his reddened skin,

“trust me, heeseung’s going to love it.” jake chuckled besides you, ultimately stealing your attention away as he opened the door to the guest room, the image of a pair of handcuffs along with a large rope was the least expected one in your mind, and once your confusing gaze landed on jaeyun’s smiling face, you began to doubt whatever his idea was,

should you trust jake?

you shouldn’t have trusted jake.

as trusting jake lead you to this current predicament, wearing a purple coloured lingerie beneath your feathery robe, "his favourtie colour" jaeyun's voice rang in your ears, the pair of handcuffs situated in your hand while the rope was in the other as you stared at heeseung’s shirtless passed out form with his tie around his neck, in your shared bed,

the party had ended hours ago, leaving you with a drunk, sleeping heeseung that currently seemed to be in a deep dream, lips partially opened as quiet snores left his mouth, evidently exhausted from the events of tonight,

your footsteps light as you stepped deeper into the bedroom, the wood quietly creaking beneath you while your gaze was fixated on heeseung’s form between the satin sheets, chest heaving upwards softly to allow short pants of his breath to escape,

countless thoughts ran through your head as your eyes kept scanning his body in the dim lighting of the room, should you proceed? what if he wakes up in the middle of everything? what if he doesn’t enjoy it?

throughout the duration of your dilemma the only thought that circled your mind continuously was the possibility of heeseung enjoying this night, jaeyun— his best friend, would never set you up for failure would he? never.

and with the prominent thought of this night becoming a memorable one for heeseung, you decided to continue.

opting on inhaling in a deep breath, you inched closer towards the bed till you moved atop his body, legs carefully caging around his waist whilst your shaky hands wrapped around his wrists, thankfully heeseung had his arms behind his head, ultimately making the situation easier for you to mend,

with caution, you wrapped the iron material around his wrists, the soft click of the cuffs increasing the rapid beating pace of your heart, nervousness etched its way throughout your body as heeseung was always the one to guide you in any sort of intimate situation, but now here you were, taking that freedom away from him.

and as your hands grabbed the rope to wrap his cuffed hands against the headboard, the man beneath you slightly moved, your breath hitched as you were only one pull away from completing his knot yet you froze once his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes remained closed as you awaited his awake, breathing out a sigh of relief after taking notice of his continued slumber,

with the final knot in place, heeseung was successfully cuffed and tied up, landing him in a situation where he had absolutely no chances of touching you as he always does and loves to, your eyes remained on the rope decorating his veiny hands, the contrast between his soft, delicate skin and the harsh rope—

“baby?” heeseung raspily called, tone laced with sleep and exhaustion as his bleary eyes searched for yours, he could feel your figure atop his yet his gaze searched for yours in the dim lighting, heeseung attempted to move, confusion cascading his face once he realised the restriction around his hands,

“what’s all this?” he questioned, head looking upwards to the unexpected sight of the rope covered handcuffs surrounding his wrists, you stared at his face wide eyed, studying his every expression as your breathes quickened once his frown deepened,

“surprise?” you responded, heart thumping between your ribs, innumerable thoughts swirled in your mind dizzyingly, heeseung's second tug at the ropes rendering him futile made you become hyper aware of the situation that you had— of the power you had over him.

"surprise? baby.. what are you planning?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing down on you, gaze swiftly lowering to widen at the sight of his favourite colour wrapping around your body alluringly, his nervous gulp went unnoticed by you, yet you were able to feel his length twitching beneath all articles of clothing between both of you easily.

breathing in a sharp breath— "angel.. how about you untie me so we can both enjoy the night? hm?" he spoke out, desperately beginning his negotiation, and there was no way you were giving up your power.

to have lee heeseung tied up, helplessly beneath you was once in a lifetime occurrence, you might have adored all the nights of him taking full and complete control over you, sometimes deciding to be generous enough to allow you to have a small taste of what its like to take control by guiding you to please him,

"how does it feel?" you questioned ignoring his words, eyes avoiding his as it followed the path of your hand slowly brushing down from his shoulder towards his collarbone, the shaky rise of his chest beneath your fingertips heightened your senses as you felt a throbbing sensation from beneath you,

"angel.. what?" he puzzledly asked, attempting his best to control his breathes as your fingertips inched closer towards his nipple, attempting his best to distract himself from the warmth of your cunt seeping through the lingerie directly to his hardening dick, and yet again, all his attempts deemed inaffective.

"how does it feel to be under me?" you paid no mind to the sudden surge in confidence gushing through you, attention captured by the way heeseung's eyes immediately darkened, his mind was reeling from your teasing as he wasn't used to this at all, he was more accustomed to eat up the sight of your writhing, twitching body beneath him, not the sight of your hungry gaze staring down at him as he was tied up, he could see the numerous emotions spiraling in your vision.

a burning sensation expanded throughout his chest, his need and desire for you fueled by the remaining alcohol in his system, the absolute need to have you beneath him as he pleased you was almost blinding, and the constant throbbing around his wrists from the tight ropes was pushing his patience further,

"answer me hee, how does it feel? hm?" you copied his soft tone in persuading you once he remained silent, your hands gently caressing his smooth skin, heeseung began to shift beneath you, his body hot and bothered by your contiunous teasing and warmth surrounding him yet your lack of movement was driving him crazy, his breaths became shorter, eyelids became heavier as he stared at you,

he so desperately wanted to be angry with you, to somehow manage to stir the control to him— yet your twinkling, curious gaze made him almost play along with your silly game,

"infuriating." he seethed out from between gritted teeth, eyes closing entirely once he felt you press your hips against him, resulting in him tugging against the ropes feebly again, you cooed mockingly at his frown, going further to rile him up by bringing your hand to caress his cheek soothingly, and almost instantly he leaned towards your touch, heeseung's breath hitched as he felt you beginning to slowly roll your hips against his,

opening his eyes to the sight of you looking beneath you both after you quickly discarded your robe, taking notice of his abs flexing, his length's outline steadily becoming more prominent, "just what is going on inside that pretty little head of yours, angel?" he smiled in frustration at you, your needy gaze locked with his own before you shrugged tauntingly,

"i just want to make you feel good." you replied with honesty, slowly lowering yourself towards him, heeseung hissed as he felt your plump lips ghosting kisses against his burning hot skin, his breathes quickened the wetter your kisses got while you went lower, his own lips getting caught hostage between his teeth when he felt you sucking his skin needily,

"baby.. come on," he urged on, the hem of his pants felt like scorching iron rubbing against his skin, his resolve slipping further at the feeling of your hands caressing his abdomen, your tongue swiftly circling his belly button before finally reaching his pants once you were satisfied with his surprised gasp, he breathed out a sigh of relief as you quickly tugged the constricting fabric along with his boxers down,

he was unbelievably hard, heeseung’s head was thrown back at the feeling of you blowing air on him once his large length was freed from his boxers, teeth grinding against one another once your cold fingertips wrapped around his burning skin, “don’t tease me more, angel.” he rasped out, a clear warning in his words as he was close to losing his mind at this point, yet you only smiled at him.

“just enjoy what i’ll give you.” his nails scratched angrily at the ropes from your words, he could feel his frustration leading his body as he thrusted uncontrollably into your hands, in need for any kind of friction, he could taste his blinding climax on the tip of his tongue and yet at the same time it felt so far away, his body felt like it was on fire as for the first time— he couldn’t get what he wanted instantly.

heeseung was new to this situation, one where nothing was under his control and he was left with nothing but his desperate breathes for your mercy, a small portion of him was more accepting of the drastic change, yet that small voice was nothing in comparison to the warning alarms ringing in his head,

and he knew he was completely fucked the moment you decided to lick up a long stripe starting from his base then trailing upwards to circle his raging tip torturously, a shaky breath involuntarily escaped once you repeated the action once again, countless empty threats died in his throat at the feeling of your warm mouth engulfing him, hot tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock,

the salty taste of his continuous precum took over your senses, he was leaking a ridiculous amount just from simple teasing, using his precum as a lube substitute you began to jerk your hand up and down his length, the sudden change in pace resulting in his legs spasming around you, then a satisfied hum vibrating around his tip making him close his eyes shut,

his breathes got heavier the longer you moved, suckling on his tip sloppily with the incessant motion of your hand bringing him closer to his release, heeseung’s muffled groans got louder as he attempted his best to silence himself, not used to being the vocal one that much.

you looked up to the sight of his head thrown back, chest and face flushing a pretty pink along with a sheen, thin layer of sweat glistening along his rapidly rising chest, he looked breathtaking under the dim lighting, abs and legs flexing as he felt his abdomen tightening even more,

“d-don’t stop angel… i’m close,” he whimpered out, the sound of his voice breaking and stuttering out made your brain short circuit, a sound so sweet and addictive that you’ve been deprived of for months, you decided to tease him more,

the moment the tip of your tongue licked along his prominent vein beneath the head of his cock was enough to have his eyes roll back into his skull, plump lips agape to let out a quiet shocked gasp, you continued applying pressure, his thighs shaking next to you whilst his biceps flexed around his head, the rope slowly damaging his skin yet all his mind could focus on was your tongue and the unexpected quickened build up of his climax,

his head fell to the side, pleasure overtaking his body as the coil in his abdomen only tightened further, your hands lowered to fondle with his balls whilst your tongue remained teasing his vein, heeseung could swear he began to see stars the longer you continued, chest rising speedily to inhale deep breathes that felt nonexistent for him,

“right there baby.. so c-close i’m cu-“ yet he couldn’t finish his sentence, the intense build up of pure delight running in his veins abruptly ended, his eyes snapped open in shock when you just pulled away,

“baby what the fuck are you doing?” he spat out angrily, his head lifted swiftly, irritated gaze landing on the sight of your swollen lips and glistening eyes staring back at him, his breathes quickened in frustration as his cock twitched desperately at the view of you, “i can’t have you finish so quickly, where’s the fun in that?”

and with ease, your words affected him efficiently, his brown pools instantly darkening, pupils reducing in size the longer he felt his release slipping away from his body, “i’m gonna fuck that attitude out of you the moment i break these shits,” he tugged on the ropes again, heeseung has never felt so sexually frustrated before, his throbbing length was aching almost painfully when your hold slightly tightened around him,

“you talk too much,” was your only response, heeseung couldn’t bring himself to respond back in time before you lowered yourself yet again, he was suffering whiplash after whiplash from the ‘surprise’ and your frustrating teasing, his head fell back against the pillow once he felt your warm mouth engulfing his tip again,

“you’re going to r-regret this so much, pretty.” he choked out, face burning hot once he felt his impending release returning in an embarrassingly quick manner, you started with licking gently at his sensitive, leaking slit while your hands jerked off his cock below slowly, one hand moved to milk his length while the other stayed lower to cradle his balls,

the familiar stars returned to his vision when you only hummed around him at his words, his frustration mixed with the intense pleasure were feelings his body couldn’t keep up with, and he was under your control with his twitching body directly beneath your hands.

“please angel… don’t stop, i’m so close,” he begged you, voice scratchy and hoarse as he felt his lower half slightly go numb with the continuous build up, his creeping climax approaching in a way his mind couldn’t keep up with, one second he was holding back moans while the other he felt mere moments away from his orgasm,

his abdomen tightened, as he could yet again taste his release on the tip of his tongue, so close, so dizzyingly close he was, his mouth fell open at the feeling of his climax moments away from washing over him, hips jerking into your hold once you quickened only for all of it to come crashing down once you pulled back again,

“what the fuck-“ heeseung growled out, his body searing in anger and pain when all he could feel around his raging length was the cold air, not your wet mouth and warm hands, his mind was reeling with curses as he lifted his head up again, “did i ruin it?” you questioned as you smiled at him.

“did i ruin it, again?” and there you sat, dolled up in his favourite colour, lingerie barely covering any part of you while you looked at him, eyes twinkling with mischief as you smirked at him, and his painfully red length right infront of you, he didn’t respond,

“come on hee, is this not fun for you?” you spoke, hands reaching upwards to caress his twitching thighs, finger tips going as high as his hips, torturously close to his length before going down to his knee, heeseung didn’t respond, his eyes remained close whilst he breathed heavily from his nose,

you failed to notice the way his veins were bulging at this point all around his arms, specifically his hands, you failed to notice his fingers and wrists turning red around the cuffs as he tugged, busy pushing your teasing further with running your index finger from the base of his length to his tip,

all you could feel was authority and power, your first taste as you wished to prolong the view of a whimpering heeseung under you, “you could tell me-“ you completely failed to notice the small crack! around the headboard that the rope was fastened to,

you were too late, your heart dropped to your stomach at the sudden loud sound of wood breaking, followed by clank of metal, the large scattered piece of wood landed on the floor followed by the ripped ropes and the handcuffs, you sat frozen in your place in shock and attempting to process the fact that— heeseung just broke completely free?

he sat there, dark strands falling all over his eyes that were staring at you half lidded, you could see the pent up frustration and anger in them, most importantly the relief now that he was free, the feral glint intensified when he gently moved his hands around his wrists, his hand caressing the slightly damaged skin all while maintaining eye contact with your shocked face,

you really shouldn’t have trusted jake.

because jake never brought up the high possibility of the result of his plan to be a feral heeseung staring at you in a predatory gaze with a broken headboard behind him, “you had your fun didn’t you, baby?” he smiled at you, chest remaining to pant heavy breaths,

you only nodded your head, still stuck on attempts to process the fact that jake’s plan entirely backfired, what now?

“now it’s my time to have fun, it’s only fair that way isn’t it?” he finished your thought for you, he cooed at the sight of your confused gaze, yet you werent completely sure. judging by his sudden attitude change, there was no way he was going to be this nice with you, not after everything you did?

“come here” he pushed himself upwards on the bed before he patted on his lap, his length still standing proud and hard, yet the expectant look in heeseung’s eyes made you obey him completely,

you hastily crawled towards him, his needy hands instantly caressing and fondling every inch of skin he could reach, “look at you.. all dolled up for me, you look stunning, angel.” he trailed kisses down your shoulder once your back pressed against his chest, his length throbbed by your lower back whilst his hands gripped around the frail fabric around your body, his hands were rough,

god if you only knew what you were in for.

“just for you, hee.” you whispered to him, turning your head to face his lovesick eyes, the sudden changes in his gaze made your head spin as the heeseung that was glowering at you a mere minute ago, was currently drowning in your eyes with nothing but pure adoration and need for you,

“yeah? all for me, right?” he breathed out against your lips, large hands now finding comfort on your waist, stroking your soft skin gently as he nuzzled his nose in the crook of your neck, you felt his lips curving upwards into a smile when you nodded in confirmation to his words,

“open your legs for me, darling.” his hands lowered to grip your thighs apart, fingertips brushing soothingly against your supple skin before they inched towards your center, your soiled panties coming in contact with his fingertips made him chuckle, “already this excited, baby?” he questioned, his smile widening when you turned your blushing face away from him,

his fingers quickly pushed the soaked fabric away, immediately moving towards your sopping hole, your wetness gushed around his finger once he teased the tip of his finger in, his other arm came up to wrap around your waist once your breathes began to get heavier, face flushed whilst he carefully pressed you more against him as he leaned back against the remaining part of the headboard,

“look at you taking me in so well, angel.” he praised, eyes locked and fascinated on the way his fingers disappeared between your swollen folds only to come out glistening, you looked below you, the sight of your dripping cunt covered by his long fingers never failed to make your heart skip a beat, only increasing the warmth spreading around your body once he dipped back in,

his rough skin caressed along your gummy walls, easily reaching your weakest and sweetest spots to please you in the best ways possible, his priorities seemed to remain unchanged even in his state of pure rage, he still had to make you cum at least once on his fingers or tongue before proceeding with anything else,

it was when he swiftly added his other ring finger to please you along with his middle one, then proceeding to use his other hand to rub slow circles on your puffy clit, steadily dragging your climax closer, you began to see stars,

colourful indecipherable shapes clouded your vision as heeseung fingered your first release out of you with ease, your glazed eyes rolled to the back of your head when he continued, aiding you in riding out your climax with his movements between your twitching legs whilst he whispered unintelligible praises to your ear, ending each word with a gentle kiss that echoed in your mind,

he was so gentle with you as you moaned quietly for him, your noises heard as melodies for him and only him, he studied your every expression while you were coming undone under his touch, though he’s seen you in this state countless times your short gasps, furrowed eyes and closed eyelids that were complimented by your flushed cheeks never failed to leave him mesmerised,

your hand quickly reached out to slow his movements, heeseung was close to beginning overstimulating you, his fingers resumed to thrust into your gushing cunt, knocking your breath out, yet before you could ask him to stop he beat you to it, “you took all this away from me tonight,” he whispered, tone undergoing an astonishing change as he spoke in anger,

the pleasure and sensitivity was beginning to numb your mind once you felt another impending orgasm building up, your abdomen twisting in tension at your imminent release, “hee please-“ you whimpered out before he cut you off, “take all of it, didn’t you want to make me feel good?” he asked, breathes getting harsher against your ear while your heart raced, your legs ached once heeseung moved his own beneath them to keep yours open,

“make me feel good, angel. cum for me,” he ordered, his hands increasing in pace as he quickly added a third finger making your eyes almost cross, your wetness by now was gliding down his hand and inevitably ruining the sheets beneath you, the force of his fingers pushed back against your convulsing hips, whilst he busied himself with trailing bites down your neck,

“i’m c-close, hee” you warned, voice cracking with each syllable as your oncoming climax felt more intense, the coil in your stomach twisting and turning once your release was moments away from overtaking your body, “come on, angel. i’ve got you,” his words were the last ones you registered before your ears began to ring as you squirted all over his hands, body trembling in his hold while heeseung continued to fuck you with his fingers, riding out the entirety of your orgasm whilst he basked in your moans and whimpers of his name,

“did so well for me angel,” he breathed out, his fingers pulled out from your dripping folds, reaching upwards to teasingly press on your puffy clit, eliciting a needy whimper from you, “doesn’t feel that nice when you tease, does it?” he asked with his voice heavy, eyes glued on your face twisted in pleasure and slight overstimulation, “no, i’m sorry, it doesn’t feel nice.” you quickly responded, wishing in your head for this to be over as the exhaustion from your mind blowing releases was slowly shutting down your brain,

yet heeseung noticed the prolonged period of your closed eyes, there was no way you thought that the night could possibly end any time soon, right? absolutely not. he hasn’t even started yet,

with a particularly unexpected slap to your dripping cunt your eyes shot wide open, a shocked gasp escaped your throat before all the noises in the room were replaced with your mewls that rung out once he began to toy with your overstimulated clit, “wanna go to sleep, baby?” he questioned while his fingers teased around your entrance again,

your body shivered beneath his arms as he pushed the tip of his two fingers in, “can we sleep, please?” you cried out, a thin veil beginning to form around your eyes once all the nerves in your body sparked, pleasure shooting all throughout your veins when heeseung pushed his fingers knuckles deep again, “our night hasn’t even started yet, pretty.” he replied with a chuckle,

your moans broke apart further the more his fingers began to fuck out orgasm after orgasm from you whilst he savoured every pretty noise you made, each sound making him fall deeper into the haze of the lust that was intoxicating the room, the longer you squirmed in his hold, the longer you made the prettiest sounds, the worse he ached beneath you, he relished in all the unintentional movements to his throbbing length behind you, swallowing back every moan of his in every few seconds that you moved just right,

“you can give me another one, can’t you?” his hot breath landed against your ear, by now both of your bodies felt sticky and hot, drenched in sweat atop the steadily soaking sheets, your breath mixed with his whilst his fingers never left your drenched pussy, heeseung’s mind was reeling with pain and pleasure at this point, his body had probably gotten more sensitive than yours yet he knew it was all going to be worth it in the end,

you shook your head in denial, however your body was contradicting all your thoughts once you gushed around his fingers again, heeseung smiled in satisfaction at your spent state, your sweaty chest rising up rapidly in despair for air, he had to fight the urge to bury his face between your legs once his fingers pulled away to reveal multiple, clear spider web like strings that connected his fingers to your cunt, their rightful place.

heeseung was absolutely hypnotised by your weak body above him, twitching legs behind his for when he attempted his best to keep yours open, captivated by the way your hands gripped around his for support as you tried to regulate your breathing,

he gently moved your body towards the bed, laying you down carefully whilst you opened your unfocused, watery eyes to gaze at his love and concern filled ones, “you alright, baby?” he whispered against your lips, lowering body as close to possible to yours, curious eyes searching your tired ones when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to lower him for a gentle peck, you nodded your head in reassurance to him, oh how you wish you didn’t.

as the moment that you did, his eyes flashed with the same anger they had minutes ago, “you still have energy, i know you do.” he replied, assuring himself more than you before he flipped your body over in the blink of an eye, the last expression on his face that you saw was of him smiling at you,

his hands brushed against your sides from the bottom to the top, like a predator checking their prey. his hold tightening the more he inched lower before he reached your hips, “so perfect for me,” he whispered his praise more to himself while his eyes took in every inch of your exhausted body,

you whimpered in his hold in surprise when he spread your cheeks apart, revealing your dripping gaping hole to his eyes, the sight alone made an incredibly painful throb to resonate from between his aching legs,

he wasted no time in propping himself on his knees, hips angled towards yours with his raging red tip positioned at your entrance, without a warning he pushed in,

the satisfying burn and tightening made you moan in unison, heeseung by now was completely acting on his own desires, body overtaken in pleasure and absolute need to have himself buried to the deepest point in you, your figure pressed against his while he fucked you till the sunrise, till both of your bodies were so sensitive and unable to handle a single touch,

his thrusts were merciless as he pounded into you, pushing your body further against the bed before pulling you back by your hips, you moaned into the pillow as heeseung took complete control of the situation, ridiculous how you thought tonight he would be under your control.

and as the thought was formed in your head, he pushed harsher against you before he rasped out, “you tried to…” cut off by his harsh breaths, his hips suddenly slowed down to become more powerful, “tried. to. control. me?” he asked through gritted teeth in an incredulous manner, accentuating and bringing more strength to every word by following it with a harsh thrust, his tip pressing against your cervix with each word making your eyes roll back whilst your jaw went slack,

his cock brushed against all your sweet spots, length perfectly stretching your walls with the tiniest tinge of burn due his large size, you could feel each and every vein bulging along your guts as he pounded into you,

“tried to guide me?” he followed with a laugh, and there he was. the heeseung you were expecting to appear since the moment you tied him up, the wild and vicious side of him that you’ve rarely gotten to see as he much preferred showing you his gentler side, however those were in situations that were under his control.

humiliation took over you at his words in the best form possible, his words of mock only resulted in you tightening around him making him groan, he leaned forward, hovering his chest above your back as he completely caged you beneath him, before he brought himself closer to your ear, “you looked so cute trying to tell me what to do, baby” he whispered, hips pressing flush against your ass with every syllable,

your throat had gone hoarse by now, as all you could hear were your mewls followed by heeseung’s words, the tears that aligned by your waterline had slid down a long time ago, staining your face in the prettiest way possible, heeseung’s favourite way.

“looked so cute acting all tough like you don’t need me to help you with anything, hm?” he continued, chuckling into your ear as more tears aligned by your jaw before dropping onto the pillow,

“looked so cute trying to suck me off like you don’t need me to push your head down my dick everytime,” his arm came upwards, you had buried your head in your pillow soaked tears as his cock continued moulding you into his size while he spoke to you, unbeknownst to you he expertly pulled off the tie hanging loosely by his neck,

and in a split second, heeseung had wrapped the narrow fabric around your neck, you gasped as heeseung lifted your head upwards, the tie applied perfect pressure to your jugular veins instantly resulting in you becoming lightheaded whilst heeseung’s animalistic eyes bored into yours,

“what made you think that’ll work?” he smiled at you, revealing his pearly whites as if he wasn’t pounding into you, whines escaped your mouth before you could process any of them, heeseung stared at your every expression with admiration and conceitedness,

“have i not made you take control enough when you wanted to?” he pressed on, smile widening as he had an unrecognisable expression on his face, you couldn’t tell if it was his reddened dark eyes, or his flushed face with his black locks that stuck on his forehead contrasting the light blush, but you could barely recognise him, the unfamiliar expression on his face sent pulses of warmth throughout your body,

“you could have asked me if you were that interested, instead of putting those pathetic shits around my wrists.” he finished off, tilting his head to the side once you closed your eyes, his thursts never faltered as he brought you closer to your release, abdomen twisting and churning in preparation for your oncoming climax, you felt your ears ringing again when heeseung slightly pulled on the fabric around your neck,

“eyes on me, pretty.” he groaned, his own voice laced with exhaustion and need, the desire to release his climax from hours ago now blinding his senses, you opened your unfocused eyes to land upon his, and while his hips were grinding against yours, every inch of his cock caressing every inch of your walls that swallowed him up entirely, he spoke out,

“open your mouth, baby.” his grip shakily tightening further around the tie, you breaths getting heavier and more difficult as you opened your mouth, heeseung spat onto your lolled out tongue, eyeing the way the string of saliva landed on your tongue before he pulled the tie more, “swallow.” and you did whilst he studied your every move,

once you showed him your clean tongue to satisfy him, he began to lower himself towards your neck, your head ultimately fell against the pillow again as heeseung began to trail soft bites along your shoulder while his hips moved against yours, both of you ridiculously sensitive from the prolonged edging and overstimulation, holding back desperately to lengthen the period of him inside of you, you moaned his name in need as his tip kept kissing your cervix,

“taking me in so well, milking my cock so good angel.” he praised, the pleasure finally overtaking his body as your walls only sucked him in further while more slick poured around your legs and onto the sheets, your moans mixed with his needy ones, sweaty bodies rubbing against one another messily as both of you chased your highs in desperation,

“s-seung, i’m so close.” you stuttered out, eyes closing when heeseung softly tugged at the tie, his own eyes shut once he felt his climax mere seconds away from washing down on him, the dizzying feeling of euphoria already running through his veins and intensifying with the build up, he could see stars clouding his vision similar to the ones clouding yours, “i’ve got you baby, cum for me.” he sweetly whispered,

and he followed his words with one, two and three delicious thrusts right against your cervix that had you coming undone for him, release washing over you mind numbingly, body weak as your legs shook beneath heeseung’s while his hand caressed your hips in attempts of comforting you, lips never stopping from kissing sweet words into your ear as you shook beneath him, the torturous tightening of your walls easily pushed heeseung over the edge as a few moments later you could feel his warm ropes of cum filling you up completely,

you struggled to return to your senses, body overtaken with exhaustion while heeseung kept peppering open mouthed kisses along your shoulder, his arms moved to wrap around your waist, gently fondling with your breasts as he was still cumming, he filled you up so well,

quiet and loving praises fell against your ear once heeseung was finished, still buried deep inside of you with his tie around your neck, your breathes were nearly shaky as he pressed his body closer to yours, “did amazing for me, baby.”

“how about i run both of us a bath then we can go to sleep?” he once again kissed your shoulder, smiling against your skin once you nodded,

you nodded in hopes of returning to clean satin sheets to drift off to slumber in the arms of your only love.

the smell of his favourite lavender bath bomb overwhelmed your nose when heeseung carried you into the warm bathroom after discarding you of your lingerie, gently lowering you into the warmth of the water before quickly taking his place behind you, your back laid against his chest, his hands ran up and down your arms in comfort, heeseung’s chest warmed as he noticed goosebumps aligning all over your skin at his touch the longer you leaned into him, his fingertips ghosted over your skin in a pleasant way.

your head was placed on his shoulder as your face was turned towards his neck, eyes closed in exhaustion from the restless night, heeseung cooed when he noticed all the narrow tear streaks on your cheeks, his hands massaged all your aching muscles whilst his lips kissed away your dried tears,

“you okay, pretty?” he softly called out, voice quiet and gentle next to your ear, his soft side returning quickly, your gentle and caring heeseung gazed at you with concern and love shimmering in his eyes that filled with relief once you nodded, “i’m sorry if i was a bit rough, angel.” he continued, lips now moving along your neck with each word while his hands lowered to your thighs,

“it’s okay, i liked it.” you replied honestly once your eyes opened to look into his own expectant ones, voice quiet and hoarse as your throat felt sore, “yeah i bet you did, you looked pretty pleased you know.” he smiled before attempting to mimick your expressions that resulted in a pinch to his hand from you,

“though i’m… not that satisfied yet.” heeseung voiced out quietly, his smile widened when your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not that satisfied?

“what do you mean?” you questioned in bewilderment, you could still feel how sore all your muscles were there was no way he still had the energy for another round,

“i mean… it is my birthday isn’t it?” he began, you nodded along his words which was his cue to continue, his eyes trailed all along your shoulders and neck that were littered with his bites, “and you do want to make me happy on my birthday, right?” of course he was going to use his birthday card to get what he wants, you should have seen it coming from heeseung. “and i can get whatever i want on my birthday.”

“yes you can— heeseung, what do you want?” you asked, by now you had half your body turned to face him as you were genuinely curious to what he wanted, especially now when heeseung had a soft blush dusting his gorgeous features,

“i want you to ride my thigh, pretty.” he spoke out almost shyly, your heeseung who always surrounded you with his teasing and flirty nature, now was looking at you with twinkling eyes and blushed cheeks as he asked you to ride his thigh.

he cleared his throat before his natural, intimidating expression returned, “you don’t have to, if you’re too tired.” he added, but how could you deny such a request when he was staring at you with his plump lips swollen and red, his lids heavy on his eyes that were begging you to comply to his request, his hands that were ghosting around your waist lovingly only pushed you further,

and instead of answering him, you quickly moved your sore body to face him making the water ripple around you, your leg lifting over his to position yourself where he requested you too, heeseung instantly began to guide you, flexing his muscles beneath you once your overstimulated, puffy clit came in contact with his skin, he relished in your quiet whimper as he rocked your hips against his thigh,

your hands gripped onto his shoulders for support, nails digging sharply into his skin as you felt pleasure shooting from every nerve in your body, heeseung settled his head into the crook of your neck, lips returning to their rightful place of kissing your skin and every inch of it they could reach while his hands never stopped from aiding you in riding him,

your soft moans landed directly on his ear easily sending him into a trance as he felt overstimulated by feeling you everywhere around him, all over him and this was undoubtedly his favourite place to be, you could feel your release steadily building up as heeseung kept altering between relaxing and tensing his thigh, each movement sending jolts of pleasure throughout your whole body,

you could by now feel his length standing proud and poking at your other leg that was placed between his, his own breaths getting heavier against your neck while his nails dug into your hips, “i’m so close, hee.” you mewled out next to his ear, eyes closing once you felt the coil in your abdomen mere seconds from snapping, the water splashed around the tub, some droplets landing against the floor while you continued,

he nodded along to your words, “i know, baby.” he whispered against your skin, your movements quickened the more you felt your release approaching, your climax right around the corner while heeseung’s lips never left your skin, praises falling into your ear as his body practically moulded with yours, he held you closer once he felt your legs twitching besides his, “i’m cumming, hee— oh my god!” you cried out as your release washed over you headily, your wetness spurting all over his skin once intense waves of pleasure filled your body,

whispers of i got yous were the only thing keeping you grounded when you saw dots littering all across your vision, body spasming in pleasure as heeseung helped you in riding out your orgasm with his praises remaining continuous, if you thought you weren’t spent then, you totally are now.

“did so fucking well for me, baby.” he spoke quietly to you as you nuzzled further into his chest, “but you didn’t finish—“ you started off, hand lowering to his abdomen to help him before he gripped your hand, bringing it upwards to place a soft kiss to your knuckles, he held your it close to his lips as he cut you off, “no baby, you already did so well for me, this is something i’ll take care, okay?” he replied tenderly, pressing a soft kiss into your cheek after you nodded to his words,

“now let’s get you out and go to sleep, how does that sound, love?” he asked, smiling adoringly at your tired state, “amazing.”

soft groans reached your ears as the sunlight steadily peeked through into your shared bedroom, the arms that wrapped around you as you fell asleep a few hours prior suddenly had a tighter grip on you, heeseung’s hands moved on your body, caressing and fondling every inch of skin beneath his fingers while his hot breaths landed on your shoulder as your back was turned towards him,

“hee?” you called, voice laced with sleep while your eyes remained closed, heeseung’s movements paused for a second, you could tell he was trying to regulate his breathing behind you before his hands resumed, “i need you angel, i want to please you so bad.” his needy and whiny voice shocked you, knocking away any remaining thought of sleeping out of your head the moment you heard him, inevitably causing a familiar wetness to pool in your panties, did he see a dream or something?

“seung what-“ “please, just let me eat you out.” he cut you off, and if you weren’t shocked before you for sure were now, he quickly turned you around to face him to see just how desperate he was at this sudden moment, “i couldn’t stop thinking about it yesterday, you were too tired but now that you slept i have to do this,” he rambled out, his body felt ten times hotter than yours as his arms pulled you towards his chest, “sit on my face.”

and you really didn’t have to be told twice,

so here you were now, gripping on the headboard— well what remained of the headboard with your legs placed around heeseung’s shoulders, back arching as he fucked his tongue in and out of your sopping hole,

your body shook with intense pleasure, still weak and aching from a few hours earlier yet still so responsive to every move made by heeseung, the same arms that broke free of the iron cuffs and ripped the ropes from yesterday now had a vice grip on your thighs and hips to keep you in your place, guaranteeing that you have no choice but to take what he’s been dying to give you since the moment your tongue ran along his dick yesterday,

quiet moans left your mouth when heeseung began to switch between fucking his tongue into your cunt only to suck on your sensitive bundle of nerves a second later, and he made sure that when he thrusted his tongue in your gummy walls, his nose pressed against your clit perfectly, his hips were yearningly thrusting into the blanket in hopes of slightest bit of friction, yet his main focus still remained on pleasuring you.

your groans and whimpers increased in volume as you felt the tightening of the coil in your abdomen increase, the pleasure already running through your veins intensely from the mere build up, heeseung mirrored every noise you were making on your cunt, each hum sending a dizzying vibration that pushed you further to the edge,

“hee, baby— i’m so close.” you moaned out, heeseung could already tell you were moments away from your climax from the way you were gushing on his mouth and he was glad to lick every drop, the pace of his movements surged in speed at your words, “cum for me, angel.” he hummed against your clit and that was enough to have the familiar stars dazzle your sight,

your legs shook uncontrollably around his head whilst heeseung licked and sucked everywhere, he continued eating you out sloppily as your wetness decorated all over the lower half of his face and he couldn’t be happier.

heeseung was humming along to your moans of pleasure, feeling just as high on ecstasy as you were, jaw slack while he licked up all what you had to offer before opting to just place soft kisses,

your body was holding on for dear life— the only form of stability was the headboard that you could no longer depend on as your grip got weaker the longer heeseung kept kissing you in a mind numbing manner, your body melted in his hold while your brain felt like it turned into mush, the grip he had on your legs tightening when your convulsing legs attempted to move away once he slowly began to overstimulate you,

your whimpers turned shaky when he pressed one long kiss before he finally allowed you to pull away, his hands instantly moved to hold your body close to his, proudly displaying his smiling face that was glistening with your wetness to you,

“heeseung you’re rock hard,” you stated as your eyes unintentionally lowered to the obvious tent in the middle of the blanket, “baby, the way you moaned my name was so hot. i would literally cum if you touch me once right now.” he replied, nuzzling his face closer to you while being mindful of keeping you clean,

“then let me help you,” and before heeseung could protest again, your hand briskly went under the blanket, dipping below his boxers to finally give attention to his throbbing cock,

in an instant, a low moan was drawn out from his chest whilst his eyes immediately closed in pleasure, your fingers ran along his length, his leaking precum aiding in the smooth movement of your hand, jerking your wrist to move up and down before pausing to press your thumb atop his gushing slit,

heeseung hissed in sensitivity, the hold he had on your waist tightening when he inched his mouth closer to your ear, “don’t tease me if you don’t want me to repeat yesterday.” he warned quietly, and you had no intentions to do so whatsoever,

“i really just want to please you,” you replied honestly making heeseung smile, “you’re already doing so well.” he moaned out once your hand picked up the pace, his red tip was covered with his precum as his cock throbbed in your hand, you quickly went closer towards his legs once his thighs began to twitch, leaving heeseung to throw his head back on the pillow while his hands gripped the sheets beneath him,

“so close.. i’m so close,” he babbled out, eyes shut in pleasure with his hips jerking forward uncontrollably, you studied his every twitch and shake as you continued the movement of your hands, studied the flexing of his abs as the coil in his stomach tightened unbearably, studied the way his jaw went slack while moans reverberated from his chest, studied the way his veins were popping from the tight grip he had on the sheets,

you could tell he was moments away from his climax, and with the sudden thought of heightening his pleasure you quickly acted upon it— the motion of your hands continued with heeseung’s eyes shut and head thrown back and the moment you lowered your head so lick at his tip had him shaking beneath you,

you swiftly began to suck on his pulsing tip, tongue licking along his slit as you hollowed your cheeks before pushing your head lower to his length, the sudden change made heeseung’s head bolt upwards, wide eyes that lined with a thin veil of tears gazed at you, his breaths getting shakier the longer you kept moving your head up and down his cock,

“fuck— right there baby, just like that. just like that, angel,” he rambled on, head falling back against the pillow as he could feel sweat rolling down his temples, the pleasure in his body flared when you once again began to tease that one pronounced vein that had his eyes rolling back to his skull

“baby— oh my god” he moaned loudly, not having the chance to warn you before his climax flushed over his body, hot spurts of his cum ran down your throat while you continued to suckle on his tip, pressing your tongue against the underside of his cock as your hand continued to jerk off his length, heeseung felt light headed, absolutely delirious when he started to feel himself being pushed into overstimulation, his deep moans echoed through the walls of your room as you kept pleasuring him,

he could feel the continuous sensation of ecstasy and euphoria running through his veins and numbing his head, sparks of pleasure shooting along his spine once you forced yourself lower and deepthroated him, and god he was cumming so fucking much.

you were struggling to keep up with him, tears aligning in your waterline while some escaped from the intense burning in your throat as you struggled to accommodate his length so deep in you, yet you remained with your nose pressed against his pelvis while his body shook, you finally gave him what he’s been waiting for since yesterday and god heeseung has never felt this good.

once his body calmed down to slight twitches you pulled away, the sight of your swollen and glistening lips covered in his cum made heeseung’s sensitive cock twitch, his eyes remained glued on you as you lolled your clean tongue out to show him, and he had to fight the urge to pound into you like yesterday.

he smiled at you in exhaustion before easily pulling your body upwards, he kissed along your face and jaw, relishing in all of your giggles as he held you close to him, tight in between his arms, right where you belong.

“satisfied now?” you questioned out as you nuzzled closer into his chest, “so satisfied i could marry you tomorrow.”

“he WHAT?!” jake’s voice pierced throughout your room, it was currently the evening, the day after heeseung’s birthday where his closest friends came to visit your apartment, and while heeseung was busy gaming with sunghoon in the living room, jaeyun pulled you into your bedroom to question you about how his “genius” plan went.

“he broke the handcuffs, jake.” you sighed in exasperation, you’ve already explained the story three times yet jake’s mind refused to process the fact that his plan completely backfired,

his widened eyes stared at yours in shock and bewilderment, having difficulty understanding just how heeseung broke free— “what about the ropes? how did they not-“ “he ripped them in a second, jake.” you cut him off before he started another endless rant,

now jake knew that heeseung and sunghoon (along with jongseong sometimes) went to the gym, building up a consistent routine that took place mainly in the mornings, and yes he was aware that the routine was established a few months ago— yet he was sure that heeseung would stand no chance against iron handcuffs, and to ease his doubts he added the ropes,

“you underestimated him terribly, jae.” you spoke out, exhaustion evident in your tone as you hadn’t been able to have the best sleep of the night, your mind attempting to process all the events that took place yesterday yet the one that disturbed you the most was how unaffected heeseung was now, as he was helping jongseong in the kitchen a few minutes ago before agreeing on playing a few rounds with sunghoon,

“well.. i’ll have to invest in better handcuffs next time, how are you by the way?” he replied, curious eyes studying your movements, “hm?” you questioned in confusion, uncertain of what he was implying, “are you like… sore or anything?” he replied, his gaze now avoidant as he used his hands to aid him in expressing himself, oh.

“what do you think?” you looked at him, eyes very clearly indicating that you’ve reached your limit, “well.. he does have a pretty bad temper, i hope it wasn’t anything too harsh.” he smiled innocently, nodding his head along to his own words to convince himself

“who has bad temper?” oh gosh, speak of the devil.

heeseung stood at the doorway of the room, his gaze switching between your figure on the bed and jake’s standing one, “clearly you.. what even made you break the headboard last night?” jake asked cluelessly attempting his best to switch the topic of conversation,

“why are you interested about last night?” heeseung questioned, eyebrows knitting together before his gaze found the bag next to jake’s leg, it was jake’s bag, and it had the broken handcuffs and ropes from yesterday, and suddenly a light bulb went off atop heeseung’s head as his eyes widened

“so it was you?!” heeseung practically yelled at jake, an accusatory finger pointing at him when all the dots connected, “me?!” jaeyun pushed his innocent act further, mirroring heeseung’s shocked expression and pointing in confusion at himself while you just stared in anticipation at the two grown men,

“it was your idea, sim jaeyun!” and with that final yell from heeseung, jake ran out of the room.

A, NOTE. pt2: the first part of the whole tying up & handcuff breaking was inspired by a jungkook fic i read on wattpad years ago so credit goes to that author for the inspiration ! i unfortunately can’t remember the fic nor the title :(

i’m so sorry for the delay that happened with this fic, it’s crazy to think about how this was supposed to be posted 2.5 months ago yet i just finished it, i’ve come to the realisation that i prefer longer fics that have more scenes in them which obviously require a lot of writing so i’ve decided to not set release dates for my future fics,

the foreshadow soulmate!jake is one that i’m still working on ! and it’s 100% going to be longer than this one considering that now this “surprise” fic is my longest one :0 a bit shocking for me honestly, anywho next up i’ll try my hardest to put out my jake fic but if not & i put out smth different just know that im still working on it bcs i really like soulmate tropes :] anywho happy new year ! wishing everyone happiness & health for this year <3

[satorena]

: ̗̀➛ TRAPPED WITH U !?

featuring. g. satoru x fem!reader

warnings. explicit content, foul language, intern!reader, businessman!gojo, satoru’s a bit of a pervert in this one, and also really fucking annoying but he’s just in love fr, oral, slight breath play, unprotected sex, breeding. they fuck in an elevator, and i use a lot of italics here, oops!

rena’s note. he’s so fucking insufferable i want him so bad. also this 4.3k words. i’m so sorry.

oh but of course, since the odds were always against your favour, had you found yourself stuck in this incredulous predicament.

it’d been a long day of enduring misogynistic, narcissistic higher ups and pricks, and you wanted nothing more than to hop in your car and drive off home, hop in bed and sleep.

sounded like an ideal and realistic plan, until the sole purpose of your life’s oppression waltzed in seconds before the elevator’s doors shut, pearly white teeth flashing through a smug grin and icy blues shimmering through dark shades that rested atop his nose bridge.

you huffed, almost at your wit’s end as the elevator’s door automatically reopened at the unwanted presence detected in its sensory, and the tall frame steps in with slow strides and a stupid fucking smile on his lips, hands in the pockets of his slacks, striding as if he stepped out of vogue’s magazine.

“see somethin’ you like, wifey?” satoru chuckled, stepping side to side by your posed frame. why he chose to stand beside in this very unoccupied elevator, you’d never understand but you did know you weren’t going to entertain his bullshit today.

you bit back the insult that rested at the tip of your tongue, “floor?” your index finger hovered over the panel, waiting for him to tell you.

“same as yours,” gojo shrugged, to which you decided on closing the doors instead.

“what business you got on the 2nd floor?” you muttered, suspicions growing at the fact that he coincidentally had shit to do on the same floor as yours.

the boyish smirk he flashed you sent chills down your spine, “whatever business you got on that floor.”

you sighed exasperatedly, soon piecing together that gojo was certainly not going to the second floor to pack his belongings to head home, seeing as he was one of the higher ups that spent longer hours in the office when the interns’ shifts would end.

you pinch the bridge of your nose; “gojo.” you say his name, tone clipped and full of fatigue.

“y/n.” he answers back with your name, a flashy grin baring on thirty two teeth.

you breathe in deeply, reminding yourself to count to ten before you lost your shit. you step near the control panel and press on the main lobby floor, the first, where you decide to send him off. chances were he was heading down there to do his daily flirting with the new secretary hired anyway.

“did ya change your mind?” his voice spawns from right at your ear, and you still in shock at his proximity, noting he’s much closer to you than earlier. “we goin’ to the first floor instead?”

“we are not going anywhere.” you tilt your head to the side, glaring at him through your falsies. he shifts his own head, still fucking smiling, feigning ignorance. “you are going to the first floor, and i’m going to the fifth.”

his smile drops, finally, but at what cost? “why would i do that?” he has the nerve to genuinely sound confused, as if you were the one not making any sense out of this situation.

“why wouldn’t you?” you counter back, lifting an index finger to place atop his forehead, before pushing his head back, “don’t you got better shit to do? like harass a newbie and disguise it as flirting or somethin’?”

“is that not what i’m doing right now?” he jokes, grabbing the finger that pushed him back. you scowl, a bit upset at the fact you walked right into that one.

“besides,” he speaks up, directing your finger towards the control panel once more. “what if i had business on the… seventh floor?”

you furrow your brows, your own eyes watching as he uses your nail to press on the seventh floor button. you try to ignore how warm and soft his hands feel against your, in contrast to the coolness of his rings.

“orrrr,” he drags out, tightening the hold on your hand once more and raising your hand higher on the panel. “what if i had business on the thirteenth floor? maybe the ninth too?”

“gojo.” you warn him, clicking your tongue when realizing what game he’s starting to play at. you definitely don’t feel goosebumps form at your skin hearing his chuckle resonate right in your ear.

“that german intern’s a babe, ain’t she?” he hums pensively, his thumb rubbing circles at the center of your palm. “i might wanna see her too.” he brings your hand to the eight floor and applies enough pressure to see it illuminate.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you get annoyed, attempting to rip your hand away from his hold but fail, when you feel him creep even closer in your bubble, your ass undoubtedly pressing into his crotch.

your eyes widen, half shock half disbelief, a sudden appearance of what seems to be gojo junior stirring awake poking at your short skirt. oh fuck.

“or,” he whispers, minty breath sending jolts of electricity up your back. he drags your hand messily over the panel, about three fourths of the floors illuminating and you know you’re fucked. “maybe i wanna stay stuck in here with you…”

you blink back to reality, dismissing whatever possible emotion you were beginning to feel emerge in your core. with a sharp tug, you manage to free yourself from his grasp and turned on your heel to face the tall bastard.

“i’m gonna need you to back off and instantly—you fuckin’ creep.” you snarl, pointer finger pointing at him accusingly, hoping it sets an exemplary distance between you both.

gojo breaks into laughter, the kind that has his shoulders shaking and has him doubling over as if you’d just told him the world’s greatest joke. you watch him dumbfoundedly, your left eye twitching as he continued to ridicule you.

“fine, fine. sorry princess, i was just teasing.” he pushes his frames up to his hairline, messy strands of hair pushed out the way as he wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eyes.

you roll your eyes, pushing past him to make your way back to where you’d been prior to these stupid events. if you were gonna be stuck on this elevator ride longer than necessary because of the pit stops, you’d simply ignore him and hope he catches the hint.

you stare straight ahead at the elevator door, feeling the ride descend from the twentieth floor downwards. fuck that tall, stupid and rich bastard for dragging this elevator ride past its needed time limit.

from your peripheral, you make out his form leaning forward to catch your straight gaze. you were ignoring him and he knew, “you mad at me?”

you remain quiet, silently praying that at one of these next stops another worker would step in and ease the situation more.

gojo frowns, eyebrows pinched to the center his forehead, “c’mon, i was joking! honest! i really am sorry.”

the silence, safe for the elevator music, answered him everything he needed to know. you were always such difficult nut to crack, but what you failed to acknowledge was the more you pushed him away the more he grew attracted to you.

he sighs, before slinging his arm over your shoulders, dropping most of his body weight onto you. he watches as you nearly stumble from the sudden imbalance, before looking up to him with that adorable pout of yours that he wants to fuck out of you.

oops.

“what now, gojo?” you ask him with so much attitude, your expression bored. “can’t leave me alone for a single fucking elevator ride? you that obsessed with bothering me?”

“you got it all wrong,” gojo shakes his head, snow white tresses shaking with him and his shades falling right back to place on his nose. “i’m not obsessed with bothering you— i’m obsessed with you period. been obsessed since that time you chucked piping hot coffee on my givenchy button down.”

you frown deeply at that, reflecting at how long ago that had been. you knew what kind of guy he was. after all, who hadn’t heard of gojo satoru in this forsaken company? he dipped his dick in anything with a pulse and moved onto the next big thing whenever he got bored—

or so you’ve heard.

you stare at him for a minute, processing his words. he shamelessly stares back at you, now looping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“see something you like, wifey?” he repeats himself, his favorite nickname for you making another appearance. you ignore how his hands stroke your bare arms.

you stifle a laugh, snorting incredulously at him before breaking into a full blown laughter. maybe you now understood why gojo had done the same just a little while ago, because the look of offence on his face had made the situation funnier than it was initially.

“what’s funny?! i’m here professing my feelings for you and you’re laughing?!” gojo complains like the manchild he is, dragging syllables and all, rosy lips falling into a pout.

“fuck— i’m sorry, did you think i was gonna believe that?” your laughter dies down, sighing deeply in attempts to catch your breath. “no, seriously, do you take me for an idiot?”

“believe it or not, it’s the truth,” he mumbles, leaning his chin at the top of your skull. “even ask nanamin. been treating him as my walking diary since suguru left.”

you don’t want to think about if that holds any truth or not. you tilt your head up, enforcing eye contact with him, “i think you’re confused. it’s definitely not love, or anything in between. you’re just horny and want to fuck me.”

“well,” he looks down, mouth salivating at the point of view presented of your breast, sitting up in all their glory in your blouse. “i won’t lie and say that isn’t true. but why is it so hard to believe i have feelings for you? i literally am obsessed with you, why else would i deliberately wast time and sit through all twenty floors here with you?”

speaking of, you look at the indicator and notice you’re only at the seventeenth floor. how slow was this damn ride? there’s absolutely no way you’d only been through less three floors this whole time? was time still in this elevator or what?

wait—

“oh shit.” you hear the man cuss. you fear that’s all the confirmation you needed, as your eyes pan towards the control panel and notice all the buttons are illuminating on and off.

silence fills the air, and you’re just realizing the elevator music had stopped playing. your luck bites, you decide, as you reevaluate all you wanted to do; grab your shit from the second floor and go the fuck home.

you try not to freak out, the fear of being trapped in an elevator period catching up to you mixed with anger rising in your blood at the blue eyed freak who’s the sole cause for this unfortunate situation.

“don’t freak out, but like,” he begins to speak, corner of his lips tugging into a sympathetic smile, “we’re definitely stuck here.”

he deserves the punch to the guts he gets.

“you sit your ass on that end of the room,” you push him to one extremity of the elevator. he’s doubled over, groaning in agony at the blow he received. “and i’ll be sitting here. do not, and i cannot stress this enough, talk to me.”

time flies really fucking slowly, you notice as you check your dying phone every five minutes, waiting for the damn maintenance of this place to do their job and get you out of this elevator.

gojo had complied to your demand and hasn’t said a word to you in about twenty minutes. his long legs sprawled across the floor, one leg raised as he rested his arm atop his knee.

you didn’t want to admit it, but you were getting bored. and hungry. very hungry, and uncomfortably hot. did the air conditioning in here cut off too? most likely, damn your life.

you sat as gracefully as you could in your tight skirt and heels, tucking your legs into chest in hopes your shins were covering your inner thighs. though, you weren’t certain if you were doing a good job, judging by the way you could feel gojo’s stare at you behind the shades and the way he shifted in his seat.

he tilts his head to the side, index finger swiping over his nose and he sniffs, “figures you’re the lace type.”

you feel all the fight flee your body, all but exhausted as you bite into whatever he chews. you needs entertainment, even if it came in form of a 6’3 imbecile with an outfit the cost of your rent.

“figures you’ve been staring at my panties this whole time, when else are you ever this quiet?” you clap back, making no motion to switch positions. besides, he was manspreading with his whole boner poking through his slacks and he remained shameless. why couldn’t you?

he smirks, lifting his hand and leaning his cheek in his palm, “i’ve spent the last twenty minutes thinking about the things i’d do to you if you’d let me.”

gojo was so fucking shameless, you hated how it turned you on at times. you must’ve been truly out of it, lack of food in your system or something, because your answer flies out of you almost too naturally, “show me your worst then.”

in the blink of an eye, you both find yourselves back on your feet, your back pressed against the wall of the elevator as your lips mold feverishly with his. gojo kisses you like he’s been wanting to do so for years, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pushing your body tighter against him.

you’re no better, hands flying to the back of his neck and your nails tugging at messy locks. he moans against your lips at a particular tug, one hand slipping past your waist and slides up your thigh. he lifts your leg and wraps it around his hip, applying pressure into the middle of your legs.

“fuck,” you moan softly against pink lips, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. he hums, your bottom lip tucked in his teeth as he pushes up into you once more.

“feel good?” he mumbles against your lips, sneaking a few kisses while awaiting for your response. his hold on your thigh is firm, wanting to hold you in place to keep grinding into you and drawing these pretty sounds out of you.

you nod your head before throwing it back against the wall, to which his lips leave yours to attack at your neck. he’s kissing and licking and nipping at your sensitive skin, leaving dark love bites.

“you fuckin’ teenager,” you complain, knowing he was intentionally marking you in visible areas, so you’d be the next talk of the week. “just had to be there, didn’t it?”

“couldn’t help it,” you feel his smirk against your jugular, to which you roll your eyes. “you smell so fucking good here, shit, i could eat you up— actually…”

you snort as he pulls away from the crook of your neck, and you eye how dishevelled he looks. even with messy hair, saliva streaking his cheeks and swollen lips, he still looked fucking hot.

you don’t have much time to reflect on his beauty because he’s soon kneeling down in front of you, hands creeping up in your skirt and tugging down at your lace undergarment. it slides off your legs with ease, and is soon in his possession, to which he stuffs in his pockets.

“i will.” he finally completes his sentence, lifting your leg over his shoulder.

he holds a firm grip on your thigh as your skirt hikes up, and he feasts. his lips latch onto your lower ones and slurps up your juices. his tongue swipes at your wet folds, moaning at the taste, which drives you to mush.

you throw your head back, hands coming in contact with his tresses, expressing the delight you feel through the tugs at his hair. whenever you’d pull hard at his hair, he’d moan into your cunt, which would result in making you moan louder and pull harder, and the cycle repeats.

“f-fuck, hah—gojo,” you whine when you feel a single digit prod into your pussy. he multitasks with fucking you open with his finger while sucking at your clit and lapping up your juices.

“shit, mhm, keep going,” you push his head deeper into your legs, momentarily forgetting you’re cutting out his breathing circulation.

you then realize he truly doesn’t mind, as his eyes roll to the back of his skull and moans even more sinfully into your dripping pussy.

it didn’t take much more than a few extra fingers to drive you over the edge, and you spray your essence in his mouth as he happily swallows every single drop you offer to him. your thighs quake and you feel yourself lose balance but he makes sure to hold you still.

you ride your high on his face, breathing heavily as you come down from your orgasm. he pulls away from in between your legs, breathing heavily with a smitten smile on his lips. “bon appétit,” he jokes, using the back of his hand to wipe himself clean.

you snort at his childishness, “shut up and gimme a moment to return you the favour.”

and just like that, you find yourself now kneeling and gojo hovered over you. he stretched his arm to hold himself up against the wall while simultaneously watching you swallow his cock whole.

now, all cocky shit aside, gojo was nowhere near small sized. he packed a big one, and the fact that you were so confidently gobbling him up, head bobbing up and down on his length, hands twisting and jerking whatever you failed to reach.

“fuckfuckfuck—shiiit, dammit y/n, your mouth feels fuckin’ amazing,” gojo whines pathetically, leaning his forehead against the cool wall.

it unintentionally forces his tip deeper in your throat and you gag around him, throat constricting around his dick and fuck if his knees hadn’t buckled.

you knew gojo was a spontaneous man, so him suddenly reaching the back of your head and pushing you deeper on his dick shouldn’t have surprised you. you were now deepthroating him as he praised you endlessly, telling you how perfect you were taking him, how warm and tight your mouth felt, how he was going to cum if you kept playing with his balls.

when he does nut, your nose reaches his pubic hairs, curly white hairs ticking you as you inhale his musk in attempt to force yourself to suppress your gag. he cums a riverbank down your throat and naturally you swallow it all, pulling off him when he finishes and seeing a string of cum and saliva connect his blushing pink tip to your lips.

“fuck,” he chuckles breathlessly, hand laying atop of your head and patting your hair gently before sliding down to your jaw. his thumb strokes your skin, “come up here, wanna kiss you again.”

“sap.” you tease but lift yourself, knees wobbly but you manage.

you’re back to standing, and your hands quickly find themselves back to his nape, threading your fingers gently through his hair. he kisses you much less rushed but instead takes his time, savours the taste of him on your tongue as you taste yourself on his.

the kiss is sensual and sloppy, drool pooling at the corner of your lips as he kisses you like his lifeline depends on it. his hands slip at your ass, grabbing the mounds with handfuls.

he pulls away just slightly, wording against your lips “jump.”

you comply, jumping and he catches you gracefully, showing no signs of struggle. you wrap your legs around his waist and proceed to kiss him again, your back coming in contact with the wall. you feel him grind his hardening dick against your bare pussy, and if you had half your regular mind, you’d have been embarrassed by how badly you were dripping over him.

“‘m gonna fuck you now,” gojo mumbles against your lips, lips peppering kisses at the corner of your saliva coated mouth. “that good with you, princess?”

you give him a flat look, fingers still carding through his soft locks. “use your thinking skills and guess.”

he smiles at you, almost too sincere and raw, and you feel your eyes shy away from his gaze, focusing instead at the beauty mark marked at the base of his neck. “hey, consent is sexy, meanie.”

“the sexiest,” you feed into his bite, giggling when you feel him nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck. his crown of hair tickles at your skin. “now hurry up.”

you surely don’t have to tell him twice as he pulls out of your neck and grabs the base of his dick, placing his tip at your pulsating hole and pushes inside.

the synchronization of both your moans blend into each others, as your gaze on one another never breaks. he watches you intently, blue eyes narrowing into your facial reactions, wanting to memorize every twitch of muscles in case this was ever his last opportunity to.

“mmhm—yes, baby,” you claw at his back, eyes droopy and hazy as he thrusts into you at a slow yet intense pace. if gojo noticed the term of endearment you slipped up, he made no show in pointing it out, and you were thankful.

the stretch of his cock at your pussy sent a fiery feeling spreading towards all of your limbs. the squelching of your pussy tightening and clenching at his dick filling the room. he soon picked up his pace, railing into you with every fibre in his body, loving the way your body bounced up in reaction to his thrusts.

he fucked you into that wall, dug so deep into your cunt you were sure you felt him in your stomach. well no wonder why women were obsessed with him, he was definitely a pleaser. a stinging bitter feeling momentarily crawled up your throat before dissipating when you caught his eyes staring at you with something you’d usually refer to as admiration.

“god, this pussy is heaven fucking sent—never had anythin’ like it—oh shit baby, gotta have more of this— gotta have more of you, please y/n—need this all the fuckin’ time,” he praised you like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

he was a verbal man, you knew, but it amplified during sexual activities. you shamefully moaned at every praise he threw at you, pussy clenching at his dick, warmth oddly settling in your chest. you scratched at his back, he bit into your shoulders, nipped at your lips and rammed your core.

in little to no time, you felt that tide of pleasure washing over you, your cervix unable to take anymore of his tip bullying into it.

“gojo, fuckkk, ‘m so fucking close!” you mewl brokenly, as tears stream down your cheeks from the overriding pleasure.

“satoru,” he breathes out, his name falling straight within earshot. his hips never give up, but his request is asked based off raw emotions, “call me satoru—please,”

your mind is running miles a minute, the tightening of your gut on the brink of snapping and spraying your dam yet again all over him.

he whimpers with his nose pressed at your jugular, his grip on your thighs so tight your bound to have bruises form soon, and your back begins to ache from repeatedly being pushed up against an uncomfortable surface.

but fuck, you were so fucking close.

“hnng—satoru!” you cry as your orgasm washes over you, rakes through your body from head to toe, muscles spasming in his hold.

you leak like a faucet, and he follows suit, moaning your name all brokenly, whimpering and whining in your ear as he pumps your pussy full of his cum. for a split second you feel your bodies merge into one, the orgasm so intense you almost forgot just who and where this was happening.

eventually, you both ride down from your highs, and satoru places you down to your feet, though never pulling out of you. his dick is snug in your warm walls, and he’s tempted to stay like this for longer, until you decide to speak.

“c’mon big guy, pull out.” you tap at his chest gently, pulling him out of his daydream. “we have no idea when maintenance’ll show up.”

he blinks slowly, nodding as he acknowledges your words. it’s almost a damn miracle they hadn’t shown up while satoru was fucking you, but now that the lust had faded away, you almost felt ashamed of yourself.

“yeah just— gimme a second.” he breathes to himself, silently wishing he’d been able to bask in the aftercare with you a little longer. he guesses he should’ve known better than to expect such in an elevator of all places.

you remain quiet and he hates it. did you regret it already? is he back to square one with you?

you bite your lip, “goj— satoru.”

he perks his head up and you swear you see his ears wiggle as if he were a dog. his eyes shimmer with hope and you don’t think he’s ever looked this pretty before, “what’s up?”

“i’m gonna need my panties back, you know.” you nod your head towards his pocket where your lace undergarments were stuffed. “they were my favorite.”

“what a shame, guess you’ll have to grab it another day.” he sighs dramatically, feigning despair. giggling, you feel his fingers drum at your bare waist, “say, maybe friday night around 7pm at your place?”

“guess i have no other choice, do i?” you sigh just as dramatically, pulling him closer by the collar of his wrinkly white button down. he grins so widely your cheeks hurt for him, or maybe they hurt for yourself as you reflected his grin.

“i don’t make the rules baby.”

this was definitely rushed but leave me alone 🖐🏾.

[yuwuta]

JUST KEEP LOVING ME THE WAY I LOVE YOU LOVING ME — SATORU GOJO

pairings. satoru gojo/reader

content, warnings. non-curse au, doctor au (reader), ceo au (satoru), no real content warnings, fluff, satoru is nothing but a romantic at heart

word count. 3k

notes. this exists in the post-completion au of a larger universe/incomplete fic of mine, that i will hopefully finish someday lololol but this is way easier to write than that so here you go 🥳

“There are four chairs worth a collective seventy-five hundred dollars in this office, so, pray, tell, why is your ass on my desk?” 

Satoru grins at your words, too distracted by taking in the sight of you to take into consideration the underlying threat. It’s been far too long, almost three whole days since he’s last seen you and, god, you look good. He knows if he said that you’d roll your eyes and insist that there’s nothing good-looking about your worn-in business attire and lab coat that was in desperate need of laundering, but it wouldn’t change his opinion: you always look good, and Satoru really fucking missed you. 

Which is why he doesn’t say the words, but makes sure to throw a deceivingly charming wink your way so that you get the message anyway. As expected, you still roll your eyes, but he doesn’t mind; you look good doing that, too.

“Seriously, Satoru, what are you doing here?” you question, closing the door behind you when you fully step into the room. You make pace towards your desk, attempting to get to the other side, but this is exactly why Satoru chose to lean against it instead of sitting on any one of your very expensive and comfortable chairs—because this way, he’s in the perfect position to intercept your path and pull you to fit neatly between his legs before you can even think about reaching your office chair and ignoring him. 

He pulls you by the loop of your lab coat, but his hands quickly find their way to your shoulders, unpeeling the white layer just enough so that your blouse is exposed to him, and he can slowly rub his palms against your arms and shoulders with just enough pressure to hopefully release some tension. You won’t let go of all of it, but that’s alright, because Satoru’s got other methods for taking care of you.

“Hi,” he calls, smiling gently down at you, “I missed you.” 

This close, Satoru can see the exhaustion clearly in your eyes. There’s more, too: frustration, guilt, worry—and it takes everything in him not to coo and pull you into his chest and do his best to shield you from the world forever. 

There’s a beat before you speak, a small sigh, that’s quickly painted over with a tired smile and a remorseful, “I missed you, too. I’m sorry for being so short, the interim chief has been getting on my last nerves, and—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Satoru cuts in, leaning forward to press a reassuring kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax under his touch. “I know you’re busy. I just missed you.” 

It’s not easy to share you with anything or anyone, but Satoru knows that even on the hardest days, you love your job, and that so many people need your brilliant mind. What he does mind is when people make your job harder than it needs to be, and he’s been getting an earful about this new interim chief from just about everybody—you, Kento, Yuuji, Ieiri, even some of your favorite scrub nurses have indulged him in the gossip about the newest common enemy—and he doesn’t appreciate that someone is putting extra stress on his baby. So, even if it is a makeshift massage in your office and distracting you from your paperwork, Satoru will do what he can to help you relieve tension. 

You reach your arms to wrap them around his shoulders, taking a half step closer to him, peering up at him. Satoru loves when your arms are around his neck like this; he can’t quite pinpoint why—maybe it’s the way you have to crane your neck to look up at him, the way you’re perfectly nestled under his view, the feeling of being wrapped in you. He does his best to close the loop of your intimacy, resting his hands on the small of your back and pulling you impossibly closer and pressing a kiss to your forehead. He likes that he can feel you relax into his touch.

“You’re sweet,” you smile, rubbing your thumb against the shorter hairs at the back of his head. Satoru feels himself melt into you, too. It’s been too long since you’ve been this close, three whole days too long. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for, baby,” he smiles, stealing a gentle kiss. Satoru loves this the most, loves the feeling of your lips on his—and it’s definitely been too long since he’s kissed you, so he makes sure to do it again, and once more after that for good measure. 

But it’s not enough. He’ll have to take you home, sit you on the couch so he can kiss you all night and make up for the lack of kisses and touches and youness he’s been deprived of these past few days. But first, he’ll have to pull you away from your work, and that’s not easy work. 

“Come home,” he muses, leaning his forehead against yours, “We can order in, and share your favorite bottle of wine, and watch a movie.” 

You lean up to kiss him briefly. “Every time we share a bottle of wine, we end up making out and not watching anything.” 

“Do we?” Satoru feigns innocence, “I never noticed. Doesn’t sound like a bad idea, though.”

“Satoru,” you whisper, quiet but firm, with a smile that lets him know you want to, but you can’t. It’s a tone that Satoru knows all too well, and isn’t particularly fond of. “I have charts to finish.” 

“Finish them tomorrow,” he steals another kiss, “Or pawn them off on Kento,” another kiss, “Or Yuuji. Residents always need more experience—isn’t that what you and Ieiri always say?” 

You let him kiss you again, and again, and again. Each time a little longer, a little warmer, a little less innocent than the last, growing from a little, to a lot, to all-consuming. Satoru hums when he feels your nails raking through his hair; an unfortunate move, as the sound pulls you back to reality and away from him in a decrescendo of kisses. 

“You’re really good at that,” you laugh, voice soft. 

“At kissing?” Satoru dips his head down to taste your laughter against his lips, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice with a very pretty girl.” 

“No,” and you’re laughing again, louder this time, and Satoru counts every little giggle as a victory, “You’re good at... seducing me without saying you’re seducing me.”

“Oh, that?” he grins, tucking his pointer and index finger under your chin to meet you in a knowing kiss, “Yeah, that’s a talent of mine, too.”

You let him steal one more, and Satoru doesn’t take it for granted. “Come home,” he whispers against your lips before slotting them in yet another kiss, “I miss you.” 

And he can feel it when you finally break, sighing into the kiss, and melting into his touch completely. One more, he just needs one more kiss to seal the deal, and then—“Fine,” you concede, “But I get to choose where to get dinner from.” 

“Of course, sweets, whatever you want,” Satoru grins, pulling back to kiss your forehead again, “Now—shall we? If we order in the car, we can probably pick it up on our way home.”

He’s in the home stretch now, but he’s not completely free: if you catch a glimpse of your work, or someone comes in to find you, or your godforsaken pager beeps then all of his plans could come crumbling down before him. The key to transitioning from the “you’ve agreed to come home with him early stage”—if you can count 9:45pm, coming off of a 17-hour work day as early—to the “we are actually leaving this hospital and nobody can stop us phase” is swiftness. This time period is critical, and Satoru is ready for the sprint. 

He shimmies your lab coat all the way off of your body for you, checking for the weight of your pager in your right pocket, before hanging it on the back of your chair. He shoos you to grab your coat, and makes sure you don’t get within three feet of this side of your desk—taking your purse out of your locked drawer and closing an open file folder in the time it takes you to slip out of your heels and into your sneakers, and by the time you’re turning back around, Satoru is already there next to you, with your purse in one hand, and his other hovering on the light switch. 

He makes sure you’re out the door first, and flickers off the light with a satisfied grin. His baby was coming home early with him, and there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend time pampering you. 

You must truly be more tired than you know, because you make no protest when he slings an arm over your shoulder on your way out of the elevator. Usually, you chastise him for any PDA within hospital walls, but tonight you let it be, even leaning some of your body weight against his as you walk. Satoru’s not complaining at all, maybe he’ll try his luck and sneak a kiss on your cheek. 

He decides to go for it, leaning over for a kiss, when you suddenly pull away, turning and patting against your side. Confused, and disappointed, Satoru pouts, “We’ve really got to work on this fear of affection you’ve got going on, sweets. It’s the leading cause of makesatorupout-itis.” 

“We’ve been over this—you can’t just add “itis” to the end of your words to make them diagnostic,” you giggle, “I was looking for my keys.”

Satoru’s frown deepens. “You have the fancy reserved doctor parking space, they can’t tow you. So, we can take my car home.” 

“No, we cannot, because I do not trust you to wake up and drive me back tomorrow morning.” 

“Then I’ll get you a cab in the morning, or—even better, I’ll call Ichiji to pick you up.” 

“Ichiji is still in Paris,” you remind him. Satoru purses his lips. He did ask Ichiji to stay with Megumi. Damn it.

“I have other cars, you can drive one of them in the morning.” 

“And park it where?” 

“In your fancy reserved doctor parking—oh, okay I see the flaw there,” Satoru pulls back. You find amusement in his disappointment, but he doesn’t think there’s anything funny here. 

He shakes his head. He should have taken a cab from his office, but this is okay, a minor setback, nothing he can’t think around. “New plan: we take your car, and I’ll come by to get mine tomorrow. Easy peasy.” 

“Yours will be towed by then.” 

“That’s fine,” Satoru shrugs, “I can afford a tow fee.” 

“Satoru,” you call, reaching your free hand up to place your palm against his cheek, “We both drive home. It’ll be thirty minutes, tops. Forty if there’s traffic, but if you stop pouting and we leave now, we should be fine.” 

Satoru sighs. He knows that’s the most reasonable plan of action, but the simple truth is that he doesn’t want to be away from you right now, even to go the short distance home. He’s already spent the last few days without you, and even though this is calling it in early for you, he only gets maybe four hours awake with you before you’re off again. Thinking about that makes him miss you again already. Pathetic, maybe, but he doesn’t care.

“Oh, Dr. (_____), hey!” Yuuji’s voice is an easily distinguishable interruption to your petty argument, and Satoru’s sulking, “Perfect timing—I’m glad I caught you before you left. Is it okay if I ask you to sign something before you go?” 

You easily warm up to the younger boy and agree, fondly making conversation with Yuuji as he scrolls through some documents on his tablet. And just as you’ve finished scribbling your signature along the screen, Satoru has a bright idea. 

“Hey, Yuuji, you can drive right?” Satoru questions rhetorically, already reaching for his wallet and car keys, “Great! Here’s two grand, it’s all yours if you drive this car home tonight.” Satoru smiles widely, shoving his keys and some cash into the pocket of Yuuji’s white coat. 

“What—really? Awesome! But, why—” 

Satoru dismisses his disbelief with a wave of his hand. He steps a bit closer to Yuuji, just enough to lean into his ear and tuck a couple more bills into his pocket, “And between you and me, that’s an extra three grand if you finish up a couple of charts for my lady so she can sleep in tomorrow. Not a bad deal, right?” 

“Sure, no problem!” Yuuji salutes, “I’d do anything for Dr. Almost-Gojo. Plus, if I’m busy working for her, then I don’t have to babysit cells in a dish for Dr. Gakuganji.” 

“Atta boy,” Satoru ruffles his hair, “Catch you later, Yuuji, I’ve got a hot date to get to. And tell Nanamin I say hello!” 

You elbow Satoru shallowly, a silent warning to keep his voice down, and a verbal chastising of, “It’s Dr. Itadori and Dr. Nanamin to you.”

“More like Dr. Nanameanie,” Satoru laments, resuming the position of his arm around your shoulder, “I’ve left him six calls this week! He’s so cruel—he knows I have to leave next week and he’s depriving me of one on one time. I think I’m gonna have to sneak into his office at lunch tomorrow and confront him.”

Despite his crass words and dramatics, you laugh, and so, Satoru smiles. He finally gets that cheek kiss right as you two reach your car, bending down to plant one for you at the same time he steals your keys from your hand and banishes you to the passenger seat. He’s not much of a driver himself, despite his excess amount of cars, but you’re his baby and you deserve to be driven around no matter the case, but especially when you’ve spent all day taking care of other people. 

Plus, on days like this, if he’s real careful and smooth, you fall asleep in the car and he gets to carry you inside. He makes that his goal for the next thirty minutes, and he succeeds in twenty, confirmed by your soft snores just as he pulls into the curbside pick-up spot of your favorite restaurant. He retrieves the take-out as quietly as possible, before making the rest of the journey home, taking the time to glance over at you during red lights. 

Satoru loves the way you look when you’re asleep, loves to see you well-rested, but something even more dear to him than that is a fact that Nanami let slip in the aftermath of a dinner party he’d hosted about a year after you two had started dating: “She never sleeps outside of her bed, for as long as I’ve known her,” he muses, nodding to your sleeping figure on Satoru’s couch, “Not even in the on-call rooms during our 72 hour shifts. She must... she must really trust you, Satoru.” 

(He also recalls the awfully strong grip on his shoulder and subsequent shovel talk Kento gave him a moment later. Not that Satoru ever had anything but pure intentions with you, but the threat of breaking Kento’s best friend’s heart was more than enough to keep his commitments in check).

Satoru peers at you fondly in his arms, held bridal style with the takeout in the grip of a pinky finger, glancing up only to nod and thank his doorman for pushing the penthouse button for him. Satoru prides himself on many things, but the one thing he always holds in his highest regards is you: call him cocky, but he thinks he’s quite good at caring for you, that there’s nobody else fit to look after you the way that he can; and knowing that you feel safe in his arms is the highest honor he could achieve in this life.

He sets you carefully on the couch once he steps inside the apartment, and places the food on the coffee table. He debates whether or not he should wake you up now; he hates to, but he knows you need to eat, and, selfishly, he wants to cash in on those few hours he has with you to hear your voice. 

He’ll dish out the food first, and then wake you up to eat, he decides. He leans down to kiss the crown of your head, eyes flicking to your face, and pausing at your neck, where your engagement ring rests crookedly against your skin. You must have had an emergency surgery today, he thinks; your schedule for today was originally just to round on post-op patients and attend some meetings, but you knot the ring into your chain when you have to scrub into the operating room. 

Carefully, Satoru reaches to undo it from the chain, and slips it back onto your ring finger. It looks pretty against your skin when it’s around your neck, but personally, he thinks it looks best this way, the sparkle of the aquamarine against the halo of diamonds fits perfectly across the width of your finger, just the way he had it made to be.

Satoru bends down even further to kiss the back of your hand, before laying it to rest on your stomach. He might need to bribe Yuuji to take care of some more work for you, you two really should get a move on that wedding planning, and you’re going to need at least a week off to fly and visit his grandma’s pastry shop in Osaka for cake tasting.

He smiles at the thought. He doesn’t feel so bad about waking you up now—wedding talk seems like the perfect way to end the evening if you ask him; there would be no sweeter sound than hearing how you imagine the start of the rest of your lives to be. 

[kayesfanfics]

Hi can I request a femreader/ nightcrawler story where the reader is shy and anxious, while Kurt misunderstands this as her thinking he’s a monster?

But in truth she’s been trying to confess her feelings to him but she always backs out last minute in fear?

Thank you!

A/N: The way I’ve probably imagined this scenario at 12 years old laying in bed at night. I also made the reader friends with Rogue, Jean and Ororo since she’s closer to their ages

“Sugah, yer lookin’ more nervous than a long-tailed pussy cat in a room full o’ rockin’ chairs!” Rogue tapped your shoulder as she walked into the lounging area, where you were having morning coffee with Jean and Ororo. “What’s gotcha all riled up, huh?”

“Kurt’s playing basketball with the others outside...in shorts.” Jean quipped before taking a sip of coffee, a playful grin on her face. Ororo chuckled at the embarrassed face you made, as if someone just walked in on you changing.

“Jean!” You whined, face turning redder when Rogue started laughing.

“Oh, Y/N! We’re just teasing!” Jean giggled as you pouted at all of them finding your embarrassment amusing.

“I just don’t see why you haven’t told him about her feelings yet!”

They all knew you’ve had the biggest crush on the fuzzy blue X-Man, Nightcrawler, ever since he joined the team a few months ago. He was always so nice to everyone, including you, and he seemed to always say the right thing at the right time. He even made your morning coffee sometimes when you got up late, knowing everyone’s coffee order by heart by now.

The boys were outside playing basketball with Jubilee and Roberto, showing the younger ones how it was done. You watched out the window at the court, seeing Gambit and Wolverine battling for the ball before Kurt teleported between them and snatched the ball from them, tossing it into the basket and laughing when they both started yelling about the “no powers” rule. You smiled before realizing you were staring, clearing your throat and turning to Rogue.

“You know I get too nervous around your brother, I can’t even ask him to pass the salt at dinner!”

“Yer always nervous, that’s fine! But y’know, he totally likes you too. I can tell.”

“No he doesn’t.” You shook your head in denial.

“Yes he does.” All three women said at the same time, side eyeing you or rolling their eyes.

“My dear, Kurt is a very charismatic man, but he goes out of his way to make you smile every chance he gets.” Ororo set her hand atop of yours. “I even see a flash of disappointment when you flee from his advances.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a bit guilty about making him feel bad. You were a generally nervous person, but your anxiety sky rocketed around him, your heart always felt like it would explode out of your chest when he got close to you or touched you. It was difficult to hold eye contact with him, your nerves getting the best of you and looking down at the floor while you spoke to him. You’d give him a scared smile when he handed you things, your blood running cold when his hand brushed up against yours during those exchanges. You often found your eyes wandering to him when he wasn’t focused on you, it was easier to look at him when you knew he wasn’t aware of you checking him out. You loved the way his tail squashed playfully as he joked around with Morph, how his ear would twitch like a cats when he heard someone new enter the room, how his fangs gleamed when he smiled or how his bright yellow eyes sparked with mischief during a fight.

“Okay…you know what? Todays the day, today I need to confess to him! If I don’t today, I never will cause I’m a baby and will back out.” You stood up confidently.

“Yeah! Go get em, tiger!” Rogue cheered as you walked away, then lowered her voice. “She ain’t gonna.”

“I think Y/N can do things she sets her mind to.” Storm defended you.

“Wanna put ten bucks on it?” Rogue raised an eyebrow and cheekily grinned.

“…you’re on.” Storm nodded, shaking her hand as Jean spoke up, saying she’d bet alongside Storm that you could do it.

“You know I can still hear you all?” You crossed your arms from the window, getting a closer look and watching Kurt dodge Roberto’s lunge. Your friends all laughed as you shook your head, trying to get ahold of your nerves.

How were you supposed to tell the most handsome, heroic, sweetest, most amazing person ever you were in love with them? Kurt was genuinely the kindest person you’d ever met, giving you butterflies when you watched him comfort a mutant child during a fight, or how he helped his teammates so gently when they were injured. You couldn’t fathom how people were afraid or disgusted by him, he was the most gorgeous man in the world. How you could see a tinge of indigo under his blue fur when he blushed or bruised, how sculpted and chiseled he was yet also was so soft to look at. When he wore sweatpants and a tank top after training one day, you swore you would have a heart attack right then and there seeing how attractive he looked in the outfit. You adored sneaking peeks of him working out alone, his muscles bulging when he did push ups or pull ups on a bar, how flexible and agile he was and how effortless he made it look. You’d stand outside the door until you felt you would get caught staring, not wanting to seem like a creep.

You were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when the door opened, Wolverine carrying Jubilee, pretending to be limp and passed out in his arms.

“What happened?” Jean asked as the girls all stood up from their little coffee and gossip session.

“She tripped and scraped her knee trying to get the ball from Logan!” Morph snickered as they all filed inside.

“I’ve been attacked! He pushed me and now I’m severely wounded!” Jubilee whined dramatically as Logan set her down on the counter. You waited for Kurt while you listened to Jubilee and Wolverine bicker about the seriousness of her cut knee, feeling your heart skip a beat when he finally walked in, chatting with Hank.

“Um…hey, Kurt?” You spoke quietly, but Kurt’s ear twitched and picked up your shy voice.

“Yes, Miss Y/N?” He asked, stopping and letting Hank go ahead of him.

“I…um…could you find a first aid kit, please?”

You blushed when you heard your friends laugh behind you and Storm and Jean handed Rogue money, knowing Kurt was looking past you at them, wondering what they were doing. You felt like a dork backing out of confessing and asking him to do something you could easily do, but you changed your mind at the last second that you weren’t ready yet.

“Sure.” He smiled, before bamfing off. You turned and glared at your friends, before walking walked over to Jubilee, seeing blood dripping down her shin and gravel from the court embedded inside of it.

“Ouch, let me clean that for you.” You said and wet a paper towel, ignoring Logan saying how she was fine and it was part of growing up and being a kid. You kneeled down and patted down Jubilee’s injury, soaking up the blood and wiping out any gravel from the wound.

“Here you are, Y/N.” You heard a familiar sweet, velvety voice beside you. You looked over and saw Nightcrawler holding out a first aid kit from the nearest bathroom, a charming grin on his face.

“Oh, um, thank you Kurt.” You smiled at him shyly, before quickly turning your attention to Jubilee. You didn’t see the look of rejection in his yellow eyes as the irritated twitch of his tail at that, before he sighed and bamfed off again.

*a couple hours later*

“Mein Gott!” The mutant shouted in surprise, also not paying attention to where he was going before tumbling backwards at the collision. You were on your way to training, focusing on wrapping up your hands to look where you were going. Now, you knocked down the last person you wanted to. You felt bad seeing the gorgeous man on the floor because of you.

“Kurt! I’m so sorry! Here, let me help!” You held a hand out to him, but he got up himself.

“It is fine.” He said simply before walking past you, then suddenly pausing and turning to you. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.” You fidgeted with your hands nervously, anxious for the question.

“Do you…have I offended you in some way?” He asked, his eyes flashing with a bit of sadness.

“What? No? Why would you think that?” You asked, worried your timid behavior had finally kicked you in the ass.

“You tend to just brush me off, I’ve noticed. Lately you don’t really look at me, you respond with few words to me. I just thought…maybe I did something to scare you? Disgust you? Perhaps I…you think I’m a monster?”

You stared at him in the hallway, shock freezing your thoughts for a moment. How could he ever think your awkwardness around him could be because you thought he was disgusting? That he thought you found him frightening? You hadn’t realized how not making eye contact or responding curtly would come across to him, a man who’s been persecuted and attacked his whole life for how he looked. He was the most admirable, amazing person you’d ever met and you made him feel like a monster.

“Kurt, no! Not at all! I just…I do like you, I do! You just…make me very nervous. More so than I usually am…”

“How? Do I intimidate you?” He tilted his head in confusion. “I do not mean to-“

“It’s not that, really. I uh…I just really admire you, I guess. You make me more nervous than the others because…because I really like you…a lot.” You looked down at the floor, shyly looking up into his eyes. His face relaxed when he finally understood what you meant.

“Oh…I apologize for thinking so little of your actions. You are understanding and non judge mental, I should never have assumed what I did about you. How about I take you out to apologize for my ignorance?” He flashed his fangs at you in a charming smile, slowly approaching you before he was close enough to hold out a hand to you.

“I-I…okay.” You took his hand and sheepishly smiled up at him, allowing him to guide you down the hall. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like I-“

“No apology necessary, Y/N, really. I’m just glad we’ve come to…an understanding.” He grinned, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. You blushed and giggled at the action

[lunaritex]

𓏲࣪ ִֶָ ︎ִֶָ LIGHTS, CAMERA AND LOVE 𖤐. — nishimura riki

↺ CONTENT: idol au, both reader and riki are idols, reader is female, brief tooth-rotting fluff.

↺ FROM HYE: this was inspired after watching his artist of the month video heh…

“Hello everyone. I’m (Name) and today, I’m on the set of Studio Choom to film the video for the Artist of the Month,” you introduced yourself, clapping and bowing a little as you sat on the chair provided by the staff. 

“(Name), how does it feel to be chosen as the Artist of the Month?” 

Laughing, you shyly tucked your hair behind your left ear. “Ah, to be honest, I’m not that confident in my dancing abilities. So I was quite shocked when I heard I got selected. But thank you so much for the opportunity provided to me. I will show my best self for everyone and my fans.” 

“Can you tell us what you have prepared for us?”

Humming, you slung your left leg over your right as you rested your hands on your left knee. “I’ve chosen to perform two songs: Rude Boy by Rihanna and Work it by Missy Elliot. I have gone with hip hop and pop, as I always wanted to try dancing to these kinds of songs. And I like challenging myself to new things too.” 

“How would you rate the choreography?” 

You purse your lips, pondering over it before answering. “If you know Pass the Mic by ENHYPEN, take their choreography and multiply it by… three times? It’s quite hard and it took me a while to master it.” 

“Speaking of ENHYPEN, how long have you been dating Nishimura Riki?” 

You gasped, taken aback by the sudden question about your love life. Your face flushed red when you heard the staff laugh at your embarrassment. “We’ve been together for about six months now, and our monthly anniversary is coming tomorrow. Which is also the day the video will drop too. I hope everyone looks forward to it-?” 

You paused when you saw a familiar figure entering the place. You ignored how you were in the middle of an interview, face brightening at the sight of your beloved boyfriend entering. You excitedly waved as Riki got closer. He chuckled, leaning down to press a loving kiss on your forehead as he stood beside you. Due to him being too tall, the camera was not able to capture his face. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you’re still busy with your schedule,” you asked, having to tilt your head up to look at him. 

“We ended early and I decided to surprise you. Although, it looks like you’re in the middle of something,” he sounds sheepish, but the staff merely shrugged his apology off. 

You giggled, leaning against him and faced the camera. “Now that my boyfriend’s here, maybe we should hear some encouraging words from him. Right, Riki?”

“Huh? Why are you suddenly interviewing me?” His eyes widened, not expecting you to change the direction of the interview just like that. You laughed at his reaction, pulling at his hand. 

“Come on, just say a few words!” You begged. 

Sighing, he bent slightly to reveal his face to the camera. “Hello, I’m Nishimura Riki from ENHYPEN. Uh, I don’t have much to say but please show lots of love and support to (Name)’s performance video. It drops tomorrow and I can tell she has put in a lot of effort into making the video. Thanks.” 

“Before we end, could we have the both of you do a dance together?” 

“Aish, I knew there was something else after this,” Riki mischievously wagged his finger at the staff, eliciting a round of amused laughter from them. 

You chuckled, rising to your feet. “Sure, how about we cover Riki’s dance on Studio Choom? The Artist of the Month video and we can do the moment of the video where it's most replayed.” 

“Don’t tell me…” Riki’s voice trailed off, recognition flickering across his face when he saw one of the staff handing both of you sunglasses. 

“Yup.” 

Both of you got into position. Once the music started, the staff were amazed with how in sync you were with one another. Your facial expressions were on point, easily matching the vibes of the song. Thankfully, you did not have to perform the whole choreography and instead, only showcase five minutes of it. When it ended, you were panting and catching your breath. 

“Since when did you learn it?” Riki asked, amazed as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“It was meant to be a surprise, but I guess it’s out of the bag now,” you sheepishly scratched your head, squeaking when he embraced you in a hug, his taller frame hiding you from the camera. The staff took it as a cue to end the recording, wanting to give the couple their much-needed alone time. 

Seeing this, Riki took it as his cue to squish your cheeks with his hands. You made a noise of protest but he ignores it, sniggering at your offended expression. He could no longer hold back, leaning down to give you a searing kiss on your lips. Before you could react, he had pulled away. A satisfied smirk appeared on his face at the sight of your dazed look. 

“You’re so cute,” he teased. 

“Riki!”

Needless to say, the video did well and most of the comment sections were filled with people squealing over your relationship. 

‘(Name) and Riki are so cute together! And the way they are in sync with one another is so cool! Truly the power duo we need.’

‘Forget Riki, I want (Name) instead.’

‘The part where they threw their sunglasses at the same time… chefs kiss.’ 

[fastandcarlos]

Obsessed With You : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: how does it feel to be so in love with someone that you can't be away from them? allow oscar piastri to tell you

As yet another chuckle came from you, Oscar couldn’t help but watch on as you continued to read through your book, engrossed in the blossoming fairytale that was currently gripping you between two of your favourite characters. 

You were in your own little world as your eyes focused on the pages before you, unaware of the eyes that were glued to you from across the room. Oscar’s smile was wide as he noticed your expression change each time you encountered a new emotion. Happiness. Upset. Betrayal. He felt it all with you. 

Despite the many things surrounding him that could have kept him entertained, none of those things compared to you. Watching you enjoy the simplicity of sitting, cuddled up in your seat reading your book was an indescribable feeling for him. 

As you reached the end of your chapter you finally looked up from your book, reaching across the table to pick up your mug of tea. It was almost cold, your own fault for refusing to leave your book, but still you drunk it with a smile. 

It was as you came back into the room though that you felt the eyes that had been staring at you for the best part of twenty minutes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, finally meeting Oscar’s eyes, taking note of the shy smile on his face. 

His head shook as he realised that you’d caught him, feeling his cheeks begin to heat up. “I’m just watching you and wondering how I ever got so lucky to be yours.” 

A faint chuckle came from you as Oscar spoke, suddenly finding yourself unsure of where to look. At times you hated the effect that Oscar could have on you and his ability to always know the right thing to say.  

You didn’t quite know what to say to Oscar, opting to place your mug down and return to your book. You shuffled slightly in your seat to make yourself comfortable again, turning the crisp page of your book. It didn’t stop Oscar from watching you though, even if he didn’t quite realise that he was doing it. 

The next chapter soon had you gripped again, but that didn’t last long for long. After a couple of minutes, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your frame, lifting you up and swapping your place in your seat for a place in Oscar’s lap instead. “What are you doing?” You laughed up at Oscar. 

His grip was secure around your frame as he watched your thumb panic to mark your page and make sure you didn’t lose it whilst Oscar moved you around.  

“You’re impossible.” 

Oscar’s head shook as you settled against his chest, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head. “I don’t want to be that far away from you any longer, I want to be right here by your side instead,” he whispered, thankful that you couldn’t see the wide smile that was on his face. 

A chuckle came from you as you placed your book down, sliding your bookmark in to make sure that you didn’t lose your page. “I wish sometimes that other people got to see just how needy you actually are.” 

Oscar couldn’t help it, to say he was obsessed with you was an understatement. He loved being in your company, hearing your voice, seeing you smile, feeling your arms wrap around his frame, he couldn’t get enough of it all. 

He knew he should’ve felt bad for disturbing your read, but selfishly he just couldn’t, he wanted to have you all to himself again and feel you right by his side. Oscar couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that drew him to you so often, if he was honest, there were just too many things. 

As the two of you settled, his fingertips brushed delicately along your waist, his other hand on your legs that hung over the edge of Oscar’s lap. “I’ve been thinking, maybe we should read a book together? Like our own little book club just for the two of us,” Oscar whispered into your ear. 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise at his suggestion, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw Oscar pick up a book, but he always loved the expression on your face whenever you read one of your own. 

Your face made it seem like it was magic, a magic that he didn’t want to miss out on. With reading being something that you loved to do, Oscar wanted for it to be something that he enjoyed with you too. 

After a few moments your head tilted back to meet Oscar’s smile, seeing just how sincere he was from the look in his eyes. “You really want to read? I mean I’m sure that I could find some books that might interest the two of us,” you told him, watching as his head nodded in reply to your question. 

“You always support me and my hobbies, so I want to do the same for you,” he grinned, feeling your hand cup against the side of his face, stretching up as high as you could so that you were able to press a kiss against Oscar’s lips. 

A chuckle came from you as Oscar pulled you back for one more kiss. “Lando used to tell me that you were obsessed with me, and now I’m beginning to think that maybe he is.” 

“He is,” Oscar proudly told you, watching as your eyes rolled. “I’m so obsessed with you love that it actually hurts my heart, do you know how hard of a job it is being so madly in love with you?” 

You didn’t quite know what to say, shaking your head almost in disbelief back at Oscar, surprised by his sudden boldness and confession. 

“I’m being serious, even after all these years I can’t get enough of you,” Oscar added, keeping his eyes on you so that you could see just how open and honest he was being with you, “you’re just my favourite person in the world.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered, taken aback. Your heart raced as Oscar spoke, finding yourself feeling flushed and a little bit lost for words.  

“You don’t have to say anything, I just want to make sure that you always know how I feel about you,” Oscar assured you, kissing the top of your head once again. 

“You know that I feel the same, don’t you?” You asked Oscar, smiling in relief as his head nodded, knowing exactly how loved you made him feel. 

Oscar never imagined that one person could make him feel so many strong emotions. It overwhelmed him at times just how close the two of you were, he always dreamt about the sort of relationship that he saw in the movies, like the ones you read about in so many of your books, but he never imagined how true it would become for him.  

It was a feeling that he never took for granted, everyone told him what he had with you was special, but no one knew just how special it was aside from him.  

All the little things were the things he treasured the most, how you could lay together in the most comfortable silence and still feel yourselves smiling and your hearts racing with how close the two of you were together. 

They were all the feelings that Oscar knew he would never lose, quite simply because...he was obsessed with you. 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[rafeskai]

Opposite — Rafe Cameron

She looks nothing like me So why do you look so happy?

Summary: After seeing her ex-boyfriend Rafe Cameron happily flirting with his new girlfriend Sofia at a party, the reader confronts the painful reality that Sofia is everything she’s not—quiet, effortless, and seemingly perfect for him.

Pairings: ExBF!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: None

Second (Final) Part Here.

The Kook party was in full swing, the golden glow of lanterns and laughter illuminating the night. You tucked a strand of your long blonde hair behind your ear, your stomach knotting as your gaze landed on him. Rafe Cameron. Once, his arm was always around your waist, his lips murmuring promises against your ear. Now, he was across the yard, grinning at her.

Sofia.

She was perched on the edge of the pool, her short brown hair catching the moonlight, her brown eyes sparkling with something unmistakably intimate as she laughed at something Rafe had said. Your chest tightened.

“Oh, so he does have a type now,” you muttered under your breath, swirling the champagne in your glass.

Your friend Sarah glanced at you, sympathy etched across her face. “You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

But you did. You wanted to see it, to confirm what you already knew. The truth hung heavy in the air, undeniable. Sofia was everything you weren’t. Petite and confident in a quiet, effortless way. She blended into Rafe’s world without hesitation, without question.

She was nothing like you.

And yet, he looked so damn happy.

You tore your eyes away, heading toward the house to escape the suffocating energy of the party. But as you reached the patio, a familiar voice stopped you.

“Leaving so soon?”

You turned, and there he was. Rafe’s blue eyes locked onto yours, the smirk you once loved curling his lips.

“Just needed some air,” you lied, your voice steadier than you expected.

He nodded, his gaze flickering briefly toward the pool where Sofia was still laughing. The sight sent a pang through your chest, but you refused to let it show.

“She’s nice,” you said, surprising even yourself.

Rafe’s brows lifted, but he didn’t deny it. “Yeah, she is.”

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. The words you wanted to scream stayed trapped in your throat. Instead, you opted for a brittle smile. “She’s different.”

“Yeah.” His voice softened, and for a moment, he looked at you like he used to, like maybe he regretted everything. But the moment passed as quickly as it came. “She makes things… easy.”

Easy. The word cut deeper than you thought it would.

“Well, I’m glad,” you said, your voice sharper now. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your new fairytale.”

Rafe frowned, stepping closer, but you didn’t give him the chance to say more. You turned on your heel, the tears threatening to spill as you marched toward the front door.

As you reached the driveway, the song playing from the party echoed in the background, the lyrics hitting a little too close to home.

“She looks nothing like me, so why do you look so happy?”

You didn’t need to stay to know the answer. Sofia wasn’t just different; she was exactly what Rafe had been waiting for. And no matter how much you tried to change, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

He was always holding out for the opposite.

The gravel crunched under your heels as you made your way to your car, the tears stinging your eyes finally spilling over. The cool night air bit at your skin, but it didn’t dull the ache in your chest.

“Wait!” Rafe’s voice called out, his footsteps quick behind you.

You stopped, spinning around to face him, anger bubbling to the surface. “What do you want, Rafe?”

He stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets, his face set in that infuriatingly calm expression he always wore when he knew he was in the wrong. “Why are you leaving like this?”

“Why?” You laughed bitterly, wiping a tear off your cheek. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m not,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You took a shaky breath, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Why did you even come after me? Shouldn’t you be with Sofia? She’s perfect for you, right? Not too loud, not too much, not me.”

Rafe flinched, the calm cracking just slightly. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” You let out a hollow laugh. “You want to talk about fair? Do you know how hard it is to watch you look at her like that? To see how happy you are, knowing I never made you feel that way?”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your voice broke, but you didn’t care. “She’s everything I’m not. You don’t have to tell me—I can see it. You were waiting for someone like her the whole time we were together.”

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, frustration flashing in his eyes. “You think this is easy for me? Seeing you here, acting like what we had didn’t mean anything?”

You shook your head, the anger flaring again. “Don’t you dare put this on me. You’re the one who replaced me. You didn’t just move on, Rafe—you upgraded to the opposite of me. And you know what? I’m starting to think that’s exactly what you wanted.”

“That’s not—” He stopped himself, taking a step closer. “You don’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” you snapped.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. For a moment, it looked like he might actually say something real, something honest. But instead, he sighed, shaking his head. “It’s not about you.”

“Of course it’s not,” you said, your voice dropping. “Because nothing ever is.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unspoken truths swirling in the silence.

Rafe opened his mouth as if to say more, but you didn’t give him the chance. You turned away, your footsteps quick as you climbed into your car and slammed the door shut.

As you drove away, the party lights fading in the distance, you felt a strange sense of relief. You had said your piece, laid it all out there. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to let go of the boy who would always choose someone else.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[chibinasuu]

Date? | Zoro x Reader

Summary: Zoro asked you out on a date. (You thought it was just an errand run at the market)  Tags: fluff, pre-relationship, first date(?), GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

a/n: happy birthday zoro!! this is not a birthday-centric fic, just wanted to write something fluffy for the birthday boy :)

You sat on one of the swings on the main deck of the Thousand Sunny, gently swaying as you waited for Zoro. As the minutes ticked by, you started impatiently glancing at the door to the boys’ room. 

It was taking Zoro unexpectedly long to get ready today when he usually only needed less than five minutes to throw on whatever non-wrinkled, semi-clean clothes he could find strewn around beneath his hammock. 

“Want to go to the market with me today? Just us two?” was what Zoro asked you this morning. Of course, you said yes without a second thought. It wasn’t unusual for you to accompany Zoro on errand runs whenever you docked at a new island – it seemed the crew had appointed you as his (un)official chaperone, tasked with ensuring the directionally challenged swordsman could find his way back to the ship at the end of the day. With that being said, you couldn’t say that you didn’t enjoy every single second you got to be alone with your green-haired crewmate.

The Sunny was currently docked at a small, but lively harbor town. Nami already scoped out the area this morning, and she reported that, thankfully, there were no marine bases here, so the crew could spend the next three days in peace while waiting for the log pose to set.

Some muffled bickering came from inside the boys’ room and you were straining your ears to hear what they were saying when the door suddenly swung open. Zoro was quickly shoved out of the room by a pair of hands you recognized as Usopp’s, and a telltale flash of blonde hair, before the door slammed shut, told you that the cook was also in on… whatever this was. 

You looked at the man in front of you, his green hair still slightly damp from a bath (he took a bath?) but combed neatly. He was wearing a black, slightly oversized, short-sleeved shirt – unbuttoned over a white tank top – paired with some light blue jeans. 

You could only gape in awe, genuinely taken aback at the sight of him actually dressing up for once, but at your silence, Zoro stiffened and did a one-eighty, reaching for the doorknob, “I’m gonna go change.”

You touched his arm lightly to stop him, “No, don’t.”

He turned to face you again, and you placed your hand on his shoulder as you admitted, “You look really great. It suits you.”

The tips of Zoro’s ears turned red at your compliment. A breeze suddenly picked up, bringing about faint traces of lemon and eucalyptus… Was he wearing cologne?

You couldn’t help but lean towards him, inching your nose closer to his neck to catch another whiff of the lovely aroma. As if reading your thoughts, Zoro said, “Usopp sprayed it on me before I could get away.”

Ah, so that’s why the scent was familiar. You’ve smelled it on the sniper a few times before, but on Zoro, the cologne smelled slightly different, tinged with a scent that was so uniquely him. 

“Well, you smell fantastic.” You reassured him. “Shall we go?”

The walk to the market was brief, with you and Zoro strolling side-by-side in companionable silence. As the hustle and bustle of the market came within sight, you nudged him and asked, “What did you need from the market, by the way?”

“I didn’t really need anything in particular,” He thought for a bit, “But I guess I’m running low on sword polish.”

After Zoro made a quick purchase at the arms shop, you two wandered around the market with no directions in mind, stopping at whichever stall caught your eye. 

An old lady sat behind one, carefully weaving a bracelet out of thin, colorful threads. Her table was filled with more of her creations, each of them with unique patterns and color combinations. You picked one that you thought was the prettiest, admiring the intricate details of the different shades of green mingling to create a mesmerizing design. You checked the price tag and put it back down. As much as you wanted it, you really needed to restrain yourself. You told yourself you didn’t need another accessory – not when you just purchased a pricey silver necklace at the last island. 

A few stalls down was a table laden with vials and bottles of all sizes, and you excitedly dragged Zoro by the sleeve towards it. 

“Welcome, welcome!” The owner of the kiosk greeted you, “We have fragrances of every kind here – even imported oils from Alabasta! Do you have any particular scent you prefer?”

“Oh, it’s not for me!” You smiled before jerking your thumb at your companion, “I want to find something for him.”

“Well, take a look around.” He gestured to the samples, “I’m sure we can find something suitable for your boyfriend.”

You felt heat rush to your cheeks as you frantically waved your hand, while Zoro was similarly flustered.

“He’s not–”

“We’re not–, I mean–”

The two of you gave up explaining as the man profusely apologized for making inappropriate assumptions. After you assured him that it was fine, he began putting drops of the different fragrant oils on small pieces of paper and handed them to you. You sniffed each of them, bringing the ones you found interesting up to Zoro’s nose. All of the scents were alluring in their own ways, but one in particular stood out to you. It opened with a fresh burst of bergamot, layered with a spicy rush of cardamom and a hint of green tea. 

“How’s this?” You offered the paper to Zoro.

He took a cautious sniff, and his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. Zoro was never really into colognes or perfumes, but he was surprised at how much he actually liked the scent you picked for him.

He nodded and you beamed, turning towards the merchant, “We’ll take this one!”

As the man filled a vial with the fragrant oil, you reached into your pocket for some Berries, but Zoro’s hand on your wrist stopped you, “You don’t have to–“

“I know.” You cut him off, “But I want to.”

You grinned at him, “You can wear it the next time we hang out, so you don’t have to borrow Usopp’s.”

A smile slowly crept up Zoro’s lips, “Thanks.” 

The merchant was wrapping up the glass vial when Zoro tapped you on the shoulder, “Hey, I need to go to the restroom. Wait here for a minute.”

Before you could stop him, he was gone. 

Your heart dropped. If there was one rule to going anywhere with Zoro, it was to never let him out of your sight.

You quickly handed some coins to the merchant and began searching in the direction that Zoro went, standing on your tiptoes to look over the crowd in hopes of catching sight of that familiar green. You were just starting to descend into a panic when a hand suddenly grabbed yours. 

“I’m right here,” Zoro said softly into your ear.

You smacked him lightly on the chest, “Don’t run off like that again! You scared me!”

“Sorry,” He grinned, before shrugging and saying nonchalantly, “But you know what, I don’t know how but I could always find my way back if it’s to you.”

You wondered if he knew the effect he had on you.

Your grip on his hand tightened just a little bit. You knew he was just holding your hand so you wouldn’t lose each other in this crowded market, but you couldn’t prevent your pulse from quickening at the feeling of his strong hand in yours. It certainly didn’t help that he didn’t let go even after you left the market and the crowd behind you. 

You caught a glimpse of a massive flower field at the edge of town and tugged Zoro’s hand to grab his attention, “Nami heard that field’s a popular picnic spot for the locals. Sure looks pretty, doesn’t it?”

“Wanna check it out?” 

You looked at the field longingly before shaking your head, “It’s getting late, maybe tomorrow. We should probably head back to the ship for dinner soon.” 

“Actually,” Zoro said, “I was thinking we could try out one of those restaurants in town, if you’re up for it?”

You were surprised at Zoro’s suggestion – he was normally the type to return to the ship as early as possible and take a good, long nap after a day out – but you agreed to it nonetheless. When else would you get a chance to dine with your swordsman, just the two of you?

The restaurant Zoro took you to was a quaint place, but the food they served was beyond your expectations. Zoro was unusually talkative throughout dinner, and you couldn’t say that you didn’t adore this side of him. You two laughed and chatted through bites of steaks and sips of beer, and then dinner was over before you realized, far sooner than you would’ve liked. 

The walk back to the ship was also shorter than you remembered. As you walked beside Zoro, fingers brushing in featherlight touches, you had to resist the temptation of linking your fingers with his. The night was getting chillier and you would give anything to feel his warm hand in yours again, but you know you shouldn’t. This was just a friendly outing anyway – you wouldn’t want him to think that you got the wrong idea, or worse, what if he rejected your advances?

Zoro walked you all the way to the door of your quarters, “Did you have fun today?”

“I did.” You smiled up at him, “Best day I had in a while, to be honest.”

All of a sudden, Zoro took your wrist and slipped something onto it, “A return gift. For the perfume oil you bought me.” 

Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed that it was the green woven bracelet that you admired earlier. He must’ve gotten it when you were briefly separated at the market.  

“Oh, Zoro,” You leaped toward him, bringing your arms around his neck and enveloping him in a big hug, “Thank you!” 

Zoro’s arms tentatively wrapped around your waist and you melted into his embrace. You leaned back and brought your wrist with the bracelet to beside his head, giggling as you noted, “It matches your hair.” 

Zoro’s expression was unreadable as he gazed at you, and then, without warning, he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your cheek. You froze at the sudden act, your smile dropping in shock. Your heart was pounding faster than ever, and your fingers unconsciously went to the spot where you could still feel the touch of his chapped lips.  

Zoro mistook your surprised reaction as rejection and immediately dropped his arms from your waist, stepping backward as he brought his palm to his forehead, “Sorry, fuck, I shouldn’t have taken that dumb cook’s advice.”

“Huh?” You voiced, still in a daze and not understanding a bit of what he was saying, “What advice? What’s Sanji got to do with this?”

He hesitated, before admitting in a small voice, “He said a kiss on the cheek would be okay for a first date. If it went well.”

“D-date?” You asked in confusion, “Are you telling me today was a date?”

Zoro ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “Well, what the hell did you think it was then?”

“I thought it was just one of our usual errand runs!” You stammered out, before jabbing your pointer finger on his chest accusingly, “You didn’t say it was a date!”

After belatedly realizing that he, in fact, did not, Zoro flushed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh, I did say it would only be the two of us?”

You blinked, still processing his words and this absurd miscommunication.

“You know what, forget it.” Zoro's face was bright red as he began walking away from you in the direction of the crow’s nest, “Good night.”

“No, wait. Zoro.” You caught him by his hand, before placing yourself in front of him. “It was a really nice day.”

He refused to look at you, but you placed your hand on his chin, guiding his eyes to yours, “But if you wanted to ask me on a date, maybe you could’ve been a little more… explicit?”

You laughed in embarrassment as you gestured at your casual t-shirt and shorts, “Gosh, look at me! I would’ve dressed up better!”

“You look great no matter what you wear.”

You flushed at his sincere compliment, before taking his hands in each of yours, “I’d love to go on a date with you again, you know.”

You squeezed his hands, “Preferably one where I knew it was a date?”

He was silent for a few seconds, before muttering, “Tomorrow then.” 

“Tomorrow what, Zoro?” You teased, “Use your words.”

Zoro took a deep breath, looking you right in the eyes, “Would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow? We can have a picnic at the flower fields. You wanted to go there, right?”

“It’s a date.” You smiled, before giving him a peck on the cheek, “Good night, Zoro. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You entered your room, quickly shutting the door as your legs gave out under you. You sat stunned on the floor, hand on your chest to dampen the drumming of your heart, cheeks hurting from the wide grin you were sporting.

You knew you probably wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight, too filled with excitement for what tomorrow would bring.  

[intheemptymirror]

drunk dazed !

drunk-roommate!sunghoon x roommate!reader

summary: you never would’ve expected sunghoon— resident ice prince— to be the clingy type of drunk

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of drinking, sunghoon is drunk (duh), sunghoon and reader aren’t dating but they definitely have a crush/lil somethin goin on, you and sunghoon are roommates, you take sunghoons clothes off but it’s in a non sexual manner, he asks you to help him change, ooc sunghoon

a/n: i would consider myself an engene but i think they’re one of the groups i’m more of a casual fan about if that makes any sense? like i like their music and i consume their content and i have a bias and everything but they’re not one of my MAIN-main groups yknow? but i still love them and wanted to write something for them and i got this idea about how cute it would be if sunghoon was like clingy n stuff so here we are. tbh i don’t love this fic but i just wanted it done and i thought that even if i don’t like it maybe someone out there will. i have a jay fic idea in the works too so if you like enhypen that’ll be out eventually too ;)

if somebody bet you twenty bucks that sunghoon was the clingy type drunk, you would’ve paid them right then and there.

but here you were.

for the past few years you guys had been friends, you don’t think you could remember a time you ever saw him drunk. a little tipsy, sure, but never drunk. and then after you became roommates— which meant spending even more time around each other than before— you still hadn’t seen him get to that state. you had always just assumed he either had a scary high tolerance to alcohol or just didn’t like alcohol all that much.

sunghoon had gone out with the rest of the enhypen boys for a couple of drinks that night, which wasn’t anything unusual or new. what was unusual and new was the extent to which sunghoon drank himself. when he walked out the door three hours ago you weren’t expecting to get a phone call from jay telling you to come pick up your very drunk, very clingy best friend. having to carry a practically incapacitated grown man down the streets of seoul for fifteen minutes and then up a flight of stairs wasn’t a scenario you thought about very often but it was as hard as you would’ve originally imagined.

“y/nnie!” sunghoon whined out into your ear, his weight heavy against your back. a feeling that you would normally find comfort in was now a bit of an inconvenience. you huff out a bit of air and incoherently grumble a bit in what most would consider barely a response, but sunghoon didn’t seem to pay much mind as he pressed himself impossibly further into you. it felt like his whole goal was to make this as difficult as possible, as if gravity was dragging his body down to the ground and wanted to take you with him. you trip over your feet but manage to stay somewhat upright, which only makes sunghoon giggle.

you finally managed to stumble your way down the hall to your apartment door, stopping to catch your breath for a moment. as you stood still and panted with your eyes mindlessly locked onto the small apartment numbers on the door, sunghoon took the opportunity to nudge his nose into your cheek, his dark hair tickling the soft skin of your face. the sensation suddenly snapped you out of whatever trance you were in, making your body jolt slightly before you started the process of trying to open the door. you’re not sure why you were so eager to get sunghoon physically away from you while at the same time wanting him to stay attached to you forever. maybe your fast beating heart was from the physical exertion sunghoon put you through; maybe it was from the emotional. you didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

you grunted as you tried to shift sunghoon’s weight on your back so you could reach the keys sitting in your back pocket. he must’ve thought you were trying to get him off when you started to move because he let out a whine before gripping onto the front of your shirt in his large hands and tightening his arms around your neck to keep himself on you, which only threw your balance off and made you stumble back. you caught yourself before letting out an exasperated groan. “you’re making this really difficult, yknow.” sunghoon simply giggled in response and poked your cheek with his pointer finger, moving his head to press his face flat into the side of yours.

“you’re making this really difficult,” he slurs out his words. you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile and soft laugh that escaped your lips.

“that makes no sense,” you say more to yourself than to him as you finally manage to slide your hand into your back pocket to fish out the apartment keys before unlocking the door and stumbling into the entry way, the sound of your bodies knocking into the wall disturbing the serenity of yours and sunghoon’s (and probably your neighbors) apartment. you somehow managed to slip your shoes off without falling to the wood floor before hauling sunghoon off to his room.

you turn your back to the mattress and completely let go of his weight, letting him flop onto the bed unceremoniously. he let out a grunt as his back hit the sheets, his arm pathetically coming up to try and reach for you once more. you huffed and turned to watch over him for a moment with your hands on your hips while you caught your breath. you watched him paw at the air in search for you before you grasped onto his hand to gently sit him up. he went silent as he tiredly blinked up at you, his pretty, brown eyes practically staring you down.

his intense gaze started to make you nervous, reminding you of a cat watching its owner. his eyes never wavered as he watched you walk over to his closet and rummage around it for a moment before pulling out a plain white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before dropping it onto the bed next to him. “get changed, i’ll leave the room.” as you start to walk away, sunghoon gently grasped your wrist in his hand, stopping you in your tracks. your eyes widen and lips part in surprise as you look between his half-lidded eyes, then to where his hand is making contact with your skin, then back again.

“help me,” he mumbles out. you open your mouth to deny his request, but upon seeing how he slightly sways side to side from intoxication and exhaustion you decide it would just be easier (and probably safer) to help him. “please.”

you study his face for any sign of hesitation before you slowly nod. “okay.” you step closer, standing between his legs as he stares up at you. your heart rate spikes at the sight of his flushed face and cute moles and messy hair and gorgeous eyes with their attention completely on you. you blink a few times to snap yourself out of the trance he’s put you in before your shaky hands hesitantly reach for the hem of the shirt he has on.

“lift your arms up.” you direct him once you’ve taken the fabric in your grasp to which he complies immediately, limply throwing his arms up into the air. you tug the shirt up— it gets stuck to which he thrashes around a bit to get it undone— and over his head before tossing it into the laundry basket sat in the corner of his room. you try not to stare too hard at the expanse of bare skin suddenly available to you, averting your eyes and swallowing harshly to calm yourself down. you choose not to say anything else before reaching for the black jeans he has on, hooking your fingers through the belt loops to tug him to a standing position. he stumbles slightly before balancing out and giggling, standing like a mannequin waiting to be dressed. which in a way, he kind of was.

you unhook his belt and tug his pants off gently before quickly grabbing the pair of sweats and crouching down to help him step into each leg of the pants. you’re glad you were too focused on getting him into them without him falling to focus on the fact that he had been practically naked in front of you for a few moments. you stand back up and tell him to lift up his arms once more, slipping the shirt on— without getting it stuck this time— and watching the moles that dotted his body disappear underneath the cloak of white fabric. throughout this whole process, his eyes hadn’t left your figure even once.

finally having him dressed in clean clothes, you usher him to get into bed, pulling back the covers and gently nudging him onto the mattress. he follows your direction with little resistance, little hums escaping his mouth here and there as he watched you pull up the soft covers and tuck him in gently. “comfortable?” he does a close eyed nod and smiles softly in response. you smile and nod in return. “good,” you whisper.

“i’m gonna go get you some water,” you brush his hair off of his forehead and make barely any moves to leave the room, but are stopped by him sitting upright so fast it was as if he was coming back from the dead and his hands shooting out to grab your arm.

“no!” sunghoon lets out a whine of protest, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes starting to gloss over with tears, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout as it starts to tremble. you’re completely caught off guard by his reaction, even more so when he starts to tug you back towards him until your knees are knocking against the bed. “don’t go, don’t leave me,”

you think you can hear your heart breaking at the sight, the feeling of it clenching uncomfortably in your chest overwhelming. you smile softly at him and reach out your free hand to pet his head in an attempt to soothe him, his lashes fluttering and head leaning into your palm at the sensation. “i’m just gonna go get you some water. you won’t even notice that i’m gone.”

“i always notice when you’re gone.” sunghoon’s voice rings out so clear and suddenly he looks the most sober he’s been the entire night. his vulnerability; it catches you off guard, but you can’t help but like the way it feels coming from him. it’s silent for a few moments more as you let the words he’s said sink into your brain. “just stay with me,” he whispers, as if afraid that if he speaks too loud, the fragile, glass-like state of whatever it is you two are in will shatter under his words.

you blink at him a few times before nodding softly. “okay,” you whisper back. sunghoon pulls back the covers before he guides you onto the open space he’s left you, laying down and tugging the blanket over your shoulders. after he deems you properly tucked in, he rests his cheek on his hands and stares. you both study each other in the moonlit room, your features somehow more ethereal in the soft glow. “you should go to sleep. you don’t want a hangover in the morning,” you whisper.

“i will in a minute,” he whispers back. you can see the cogs turning in his head, as if he was debating both for and against himself in his mind. you realize what that look was for though when the bed dips slightly under his weight as he shuffles closer to you, his arm coming up to rest heavy on your waist. “just let me do this,” he slides his other arm under your head before pulling you until you were pressed against his body. he lets out a sigh into the quiet night as his body finally seems to fully relax, the feeling of you against him helping his hyped up state from the clubbing and alcohol dissipate. he tucks your head underneath his chin, his hand mindlessly rubbing back and forth on your back, lulling you into a sleepy state as well.

you press yourself closer to him and bring your arms to wrap around his torso to hold him in return as you let your eyes flutter shut. “goodnight, sunghoon.”

“goodnight, y/n.” he replies, his breathing evening out as he drifts off to sleep. you smile to yourself before you drift off shortly after, meeting him once more in your dreams.

[nicromancytarot]

ALL ABOUT YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE 18+ themes, lots of information!!

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I don’t change for these readings and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I got but I pull like 15-20 cards each reading and that just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

(This took me 3 days lmao, please like, follow and reblog)

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what you need to know about your future spouse, pick a pile to find out!!

Pile 1 ———> Pile 2 ———> Pile 3

PILE 1 (TW sexual abuse)

“I need to take time for myself” “let’s take this to the next level” “i don’t want anyone else”

Their appearance

I’m seeing lighter hair, light brown to a blonde-white, I’m seeing they may have muscles, or just a nicely toned body. It also looks like their back may be very prominent to their appearance, they may work out extra to achieve really nice back muscles. They could honestly have a large top half and skinny bottom half (Miguel O’Hara for example.) I’m seeing someone quite tall, they may have an interesting shaped head, like not in a bad way, it might just appear more prominently on them. For a guy, long third leg.. (They allowed me to say this one.) Possible big ears, or maybe even wears earrings or something to highlight them. The right side of their face is the best for them lmao, they might pose showing their right side for pictures.

About them

They‘ve have been through some hardships in their life, they’ve been fucked over pretty bad in the past, and while they don’t like to dwell on it, I wanted to bring it up. It’s seeming like they may have gone through sexual assault, I’m seeing that they used to appear quite sexualised in the past, something they did themself, however, someone close to them felt valid enough to abuse their power and cause harm to your partner through their self-expression. This hurt your partner a lot, they’re still healing, I’m heading “please take your time with me” when it comes to sex, they have some extreme vulnerability about it, they need you to understand that; they’re begging me not to sexualise them, and they’re asking you nicely to do the same, give them the respect that someone thought was ok to steal from them.

Due to this mass betrayal, they appear very closed off to new love, they have a lot of people that want them, and fawn over them, but this situation has completely made them turn a blind eye to those who see them. It will take you a while to crack this person open, however once you do, it will be more than worth it.

They will be very slow to start this connection with you, but once they are sure that you can be trusted, and they feel safe around you, they will set up camp by your side, and they don’t plan on leaving.

Their career

They’re very financially successful, but I see that this took them a while, I think they began building up financial abundance due to wanting their family to be there for them, and take notice in their achievements.

In work I think they may be underestimated, appearing as the lioness, I can only be reminded of the over glamorisation of lions, and the societal irrelevancy of lionesses, even though they do more for the lion population than the lion, as a collective do for themselves. Unfortunately this being said, I see they are idolised for their body, rather than their talents (I’m getting Sidney Sweeney, and Vinnie Hacker for this, both talented people, who are only seen as pieces of meat, or some type of chew toy.) Your person is really disrespected and it’s making me so mad, man. They’re trying their hardest to break out of the stereotype, however I feel as though there are colleges of theirs that constantly sexualise them, making them feel very uncomfortable. Again, I’m getting the same message as before, they are yearning for someone to treat them like a human being, and not just a vessel of sex organs.

Their family

Mentioned prior, they do not have the best relationship with their family, I think there’s some deep-rooted and ínstense trauma from possible childhood, I see they were the type of child to get all perfect grades to try and impress, and make their parents proud, however I don’t think it worked. Their parents seem very self focused and absorbed in their own life, and business.

They assumed that becoming even more successful, making a name for themself, earning masses of money would make their family proud, but it never worked.

They may have cut their family out of their life, or they are considering it. If they don’t decide to cut their family off, it most likely comes from hope and fear, they are scared that their family won’t notice all their biggest achievements if they cut them out, and they hope that eventually they will be able to achieve something big enough so their family is proud of them. They blame themself a lot for “not being enough” and not making them proud.

How they are in bed

I was not able to get much for this, but I do see that they need to really be able to trust you fully before getting into bed with you, they need a lot of time and reassurance, they really need you to understand their fears. The first time you guys have sex, you may unintentionally bring up some hidden wounds, they’re telling me to tell you not to worry, they’ll look into your eyes and it’ll be gone. They may need eye contact the first time, they need that constant reminder that it’s you, and that you won’t hurt them.

They gave me a few explicit messages, so for that I got

“Cum on your face”

“Make a sex tape” (I feel like they would burn this onto a hard drive and keep it in a place only they know about, only showing you if you asked them to.)

“Food play”

When I got these messages, I had a fan on so I needed to put the papers under something so they didn’t fly away, I unknowingly put them under the chariot card, so I’m really getting again that you will need to work for this. The chariot was also the only sexual illustration I got.

Another thing is that they don’t want you telling your friends about your guys sex lives, they don’t want more people to sexualise them.

They also may finish very fast the first time, this could be out of sensation since I don’t think they would’ve had sex for a very long time by the time you guys meet and start dating.

Their love language

Acts of service, they enjoy doing things for the people that they care about, unfortunately it seems this has stemmed from their neglecting childhood, they feel as though they must do something for someone to feel loved. They do not quite understand that love is not a give to receive, you may have to be the one to teach them this. Your future spouse only believe people will love them if they do something for that person in return.

Quality time, they like to be with the people they care about, i’m seeing two people sat in silence on some arm chairs, one person is resting their head on their arm while scrolling aimlessly on their phone, meanwhile the other is reading a book, holding it with one hand as the other plays with the hand belonging to their counterpart, their fingers tracing the skin of their lover’s hand gently, fingers only just intertwining.

Their shadows

Your future spouse does not see their own self worth, they do not value themself as a person, or even a creator, whatever they do in life, they are a very creative and diverse person, yet they don’t feel that way. It’s as if they suffer from imposter syndrome, they never feel worthy of their achievements, because no one ever made them feel as though their success mattered.

They can be very closed off with their feelings, they become resentful towards their emotions and just wish they could rip the feelings from their body. They may say things they don’t mean in the moment, mostly because they don’t feel worthy of your love, but as soon as they realise what they have done, they will bring you to their chest and hug you tightly.

This reaction will never escalate further than a shout of anger.

I sense they might refuse therapy, you may have a lot of arguments about this, they try to tell themself that they do not need therapy, but this is mainly because they fear they will be laughed at, for coming to this person with trauma that even they struggle to understand, even after having gone through it. I would encourage you to try your best to get them to go to therapy, maybe even both of you together so you can get to know each other on a more intimate level.

Please be gentle with them my pile 1, they are truly a blessing of a soul.

PILE 2

“I’m not ready” “you’re too good for me” “let’s take this to the next level” (you may have been attracted to pile 1, if so maybe go check it out.)

Their appearance

Lighter hair, for a select few of you, it’s black. I think they might have longer hair, and like to wear it up, or they enjoy covering their head with a hat or other accessories. I’m getting medium height, maybe even shorter than you, or possibly only a little taller than you. I think they enjoy dressing more provocative, perhaps having shirt buttons undone, or just not wearing a shirt at all, they really like their body, and they know they have a good one. If they have abs, I would say they are there but quite faint, not toned, just enough to show. Their hair could be curly, or it’s just the first thing you notice when you meet them. I’m getting pirate vibes, they might dress up more like a pirate honestly, buttoned down blouses, a bandana on their head, their hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The area of their nose, lips, philtrum, and chin is very prominent, a main focal point on their face. Their eyes make them look tired and drunk, the classic sleepy eyes. They may wear a lot of jewellery, specifically gold. Their skin seems more into the tanner tones for the dark haired individuals, they may be part of the latino/a community. For the people with lighter hair, I see they could be based around Europe.

About them

I hate fuelling delusions like this, but multiple cards are pointing to this person being an ex, it seems like they had your heart at one point and came back for more, after having messed up the first time. They do seem very remorseful for their previous mistakes, they want you to know that they were naive and selfish, they didn’t know how to treasure something as important, and valuable as your love, however they want you to know that they are ready now. I see they could have cheated on you in the past, left you for another person, or just been toxic with you, and just treated you badly. Please take in mind that I do not want you to get back with any super shitty ex, you have free will so don’t do that, however I do think this person has changed for the better. With the chariot, and hanged man, I’m seeing they worked on themself to be able to be good for you, it may have taken them a few years.

For those of you who’s future spouse is not an ex, I would say that the first time you guys met, there was a sense of competition and it turned you completely off from them, or they just came across rude, and arrogant while trying to impress you, and you just weren’t feeling it. They’re coming back around to show you how serious they actually are about making this relationship with you work. They will need some time, one sided enemies to lovers lmao.

Their career

I feel as though they have a good amount of material wealth, they seem to have everything they could desire, they could be a little bit of a workaholic, which possibly can cause some drama between you, you will need to remind them of how important spending time together is, they will listen, they are always willing to compromise with you.

Their job is one filled with a lot of competition, I’m honestly getting technology, they could work with technology, they could be under a tech company position, or maybe they even work from home doing their own thing on their computer.

They can appear secretive when it comes to their job, they’re not trying to keep it a secret, or hidden from you, they simply just don’t really think to talk about it that much. Lowkey, they could be a moderator for some type of famous streamer, (lmao??) or they could work in a position where they help people with managing publicity, like an agent or something.

This job does seem interesting, but it does come across a little like they do it more so for the money, than for an actual enjoyment that they find. Some of them do enjoy their job, but I don’t think they would stick with it, if it didn’t offer them the money and exposure that it does.

Their family

I honestly feel like it was their family’s influence that got them to start working on themself, I get the sense that their mother was possibly the one to force them into therapy, she may have even sat through his first session lol.

I think he’s mainly closest to the woman in his family, I’m getting a close friendship with their 1-2 sisters, possibly older, rather than younger. Im getting that they see them a little puppy that needs training, if you guys get into an argument, and they go to their sisters, the oldest one would be quick to correct your future spouse on their mistakes, and convince them to talk to you again and apologise for whatever they did.

Their family love you, if it’s a second chance scenario, they are so happy that you guys get another chance at loving each other, they truly want you to stay part of their family.

I’m seeing a young girl, possibly around the age of 5-6, you will be very close to her, I’m feeling it’s a niece or cousin, who is constantly around when you visit the rest of the family.

How they are in bed

They honestly appear quite vanilla, all bark no bite to be honest, they will say the flirtiest things to you, and they appear quite sexual, but once you get into the bedroom, they become all shy and reserved, there is a potential for you to bring them out of their shell however.

I’m seeing that sex for them is more-so about their own pleasure, they can seem a bit selfish during sex because of this, they may also see it as a way to compete with others, I’m hearing “I have them in a way that no one else ever will,” they may deal with a little bit of jealousy when it comes to your relationship, they are you as a very desired person, so they worry that someone will steal you away from them, being intimate with you is like proof to them that you are there’s and no one else could have you in such a compromising position.

They may finish really fast, I’m seeing someone who is struggling to keep their attraction in, the way your eyes penetrate into theirs will have them a stuttering mess, unexpectedly pushing them to their climax, though I feel like you will be nowhere near your own. You may need to help them with how to pleasure you, so you also reach your destination!

They could be a virgin, they don’t seem very experienced, they may have even waited for marriage, so this could be the night of your wedding.

They’re on top, it makes them feel more masculine and in charge of the situation, I also think they need to be able to pick their own pace to make sure they don’t overwhelm themself the first time.

They will be bursting with anticipation every time you initiate something with them.

They may have a desire to watch you touch yourself, they know about the important places of pleasure for people of your gender, however they don’t know exactly how to treat those places, so they may ask you to touch yourself to show them, this could lead to an intense session of mutual masterbation, for the select few of you, this will come before your wedding, they’ll ask you about how they should pleasure you on your wedding night, and you will show them, they will get into the mood as well and join you in the bed, this will almost make them cave in and take you there and then.

“Pull my hair”

“You make me so hard/wet”

“Let me taste”

Their open to whatever you’re into, just give them time to adjust to the new sensations of sex first, before you spring any random kinks onto them.

Their love language

Physical touch, they enjoy being around you and putting their hands on you at any chance they get, they like to hold your hand, to wrap their arms around your waist, they just like how you feel under their touch, if they feel like they’re working too much, they will invite you to sit with them, possibly on their lap so they can have you with them.

They like their bare skin to touch yours, I don’t think they sleep with much on, maybe shirtless with a pair of underwear, they will press their front of your back, making sure their bare chest hits your bare back, and back of shoulders.

Gift giving, they like to buy you things, I think it’s in a way of trying to make up for how they treated you in the past, they use their money to prove to you how serious they are about you and their relationship with you, they’re very possessive of their material wealth, so sharing it with you is something massive, and unexpected. If you see something in the store window, they’ll notice you even as much as glanced at it, and they will make sure it belongs to you in no time.

Their shadows

Their can appear a little selfish at times, I think they’ve had to protect and defend themself all their life, so now they feel as though shutting people out and not letting them in is the best answer to cure and keep away any upcoming insecurities.

Your future spouse needs to lose things to understand how much they actually mean to them, they don’t appreciate things enough until it’s taking away from them, luckily for them, they tend to work hard enough to manage to get this back, ensuring that it will never be taken away again.

Their downplay their transformations, they don’t exaggerate, but honestly the complete opposite, they feel as though their past and their future and two completely different identities, they need constant reminders that their success is still their success, no matter how long ago it was.

PILE 3

“I don’t want anyone else” “do you feel the same?” “you’re the only one I want in my life” (again, you could’ve also been attracted to pile 1, I wouldn’t recommend going back up however, I think it may have been the warning that caught your eye rather than the pile itself!)

Their appearance

I’m getting chestnut brown, to black hair, for a woman, it’s casts down her back, quite long. For a man, It’s around medium length, maybe just above their shoulders. Their back is very prominent in this pile, I feel like they have nicely defined back muscles, however I do not think they are an incredibly muscular person. They could honestly dress more punk/emo, wearing black leather jackets which are decorated, and bedazzled with silver spikes, I do see a possibility for a more alternative style for men, feminine outifts for women, types of styles that accentuates their hips and bust.

They might like going outside a lot, they’d be the type to suggest a camping trip, so they wear clothes that are suitable, and durable for being outside for extended periods of time. Big black boots is another thing I’m getting, their hair could also be spiked up for a select few of you. (I’m honestly picking up Johnnie Gilbert similarities for this pile, maybe Johnnie’s future wife is watching, and they just don’t know, that’s crazy.)

About them

They know better than to overwork themself, they may be the type that needs to mentally recharge after being around people for too long, they also seem to take in a lot of energy when around people, they’re like a little portable charger, however this does mean that they get burnt out very quickly. Luckily, they are not one to ignore the signals of their body and mind, so if they need to rest and be alone for a little, they will do that, this can however make them appear a tad aloof.

I don’t think they’re the best at expressing their emotions, they keep them hidden for a reason, I believe out of fear of judgment, or getting hurt again. I’m seeing someone who may have been cheated on by an ex partner, I don’t imagine they got closure on whatever this situation was, if it wasn’t cheating, it was some type of intense betrayal. They may appear a bit condescending at times, this is their way of trying to push you away before you find out about their feelings, they weirdly think you will leave them or condemn them for showing any natural, human emotion.

Their hardworking in all areas of their life, mainly self improvement, they want to become the best version of themself, so their partner can be comfortable with them. I do see that they will have a dramatic change of circumstance, or just who they are as a person, around the time that they meet you, which would be done for you, or for some of you, they will improve themself right before you guys meet, this change in their life will bring you to them.

Their career

They have a job where their workload and work time is flexible, they have the ability to not work one day, and pick up the work the next day if they so please. This is good because it means they will be making sure they always have time for you, to make you feel appreciated.

Their job is focused around nurturing responsibility, they are a leader of their area, but not a leader overall, they may have some type of job where they have to be a role model for people of a younger age, mild fame or influencing is showing strongly (bro which one of you are Johnnie’s wife, this is getting too specific.)

The job brings in a lot of material abundance, I don’t see they have to worry about too much, other than understanding that their work can be overwhelming, and that they need to pace themself, allowing themself to take breaks is super important with this pile.

It’s a job that offers them long term stability, and more money with the higher their position gets, if this person is mildly famous, or some type of influencer, the more fame and fans they gain, the more money they will be raking in, however they do need to remember where their loyalties lie, and always make sure to appreciate the fandom that gave them what they have now.

Their family

Their family are so different from them lmao, like polar opposites, I’m seeing the sweetest mother who always makes baked goods, sometimes they can appear a little interesting, but taste good nonetheless. Their father calls them by a nickname which your future spouse hates, their father is really sweet, I’m getting someone a little more laidback, who would rub your partners hair to mess it up for absolutely no reason.

You will feel very welcome into this family, they do not discriminate since their son/daughter/child has gone through some intense stuff in their life, and they are just thankful that you are able to bring them security, and safety, your person could’ve struggled badly with mental health, and it may have worried their family, so their parents are super happy that you’re able to keep them happy. However, please remember that someone’s mental health is not your responsibility solely.

How they are in bed

I don’t think they would’ve had sex for a while before you guys got together, I think they may have done some type of sexual cleanse, they were possibly a fuck boy/girl in the past, so they quit it to help themself improve and be the best version of themself.

They may need a little while to really get ready to be intimate with you, it might come as a conversation that the two of you share, explaining that you would like to have sex with them, and them setting a date for it so nothing can go wrong. I see them prepping by shaving their entire body lmao, they’re going all out, if it’s a man, they’re going to get so many cuts in all the wrong places, and they will definitely complain about it to you. They do expect you to be as prepared as they are, so get yourself ready, find yourself a nice, new perfume and get to it.

I do not think they will have sex with you outside of the relationship, I feel as though they have so many sexual requests from people, it makes them feel only valuable for their body, they don’t want to be seen as just a warm body that you get to lay under, the first time you are intimate with them. You have to prove yourself before sex, and even then, it may take a while. I’m getting around eight to ten months after dating, they really don’t want to be fooled and used for their body, especially after their sexual cleanse.

They like to be on top, they may honestly end up sweating and shivering at the end of it, like that one scene from Titanic when Jack is shaking in the carriage while laying on top of Rose with a blanket.

The sex will get progressively more rough and interesting over time, but the first time is just pure love making.

“Look into my eyes”

“Fuck you silly”

“Tie you up”

I’m getting that they will need aftercare more than you will, while both of you will be giving it to each other, they are a lot more in need of it, I feel like you would be fine to just go into the kitchen and make yourself something to eat, meanwhile they desire to be in your arms for the next couple of hours.

Their love language

Physical touch, they need to be at least holding your hand at all times, they would lowkey like to wear a lipstick stain you created on their cheek or jaw, they like people to know that you are theirs, and they are yours. They may also really like when you give them hickeys, they will absolutely allow those to be on show for everyone to see, they are too proud to hide them. They like to hold your stomach? Perhaps it’s when you sleep, they like to rest their hand on your stomach, or perhaps they want to get you pregnant, they may be very serious about having kids sometime in the future.

Words of affirmation, they really appreciate when you tell them how good they look, or how the outfit they’re wearing is amazing on their body. They specifically enjoy your compliments, you have a way with explaining things, that makes it seem so much more authentic and honest, they trust your judgment a lot. I do see they have a tendency to feel very insecure, and although so many people tell them how beautiful they are, your future spouse struggles to believe them, thinking it’s some kind of sick joke, but they know you would never joke or make fun of them about that. You’ll be very surprised to find out about their insecurities, you may even think they’re playing with you the first time they mention it, this could make them feel invalidated, so be careful how you tackle this!

Their shadows

They constantly ignore their problems, they have an “out of sight, out of mind” way of thinking, which is just barbaric because it means they don’t sort through their issues and instead push them out of the way. You may need to help them with healing from some past trauma, and realising that they are allowed to feel hurt and anger from those past situations, as they were not at all ideal.

Your future spouse is quick to push people away when they feel as though they’ve said too much, and opened up more than they desired to, due to this, there may be a few times when you feel helpless, and they seem helpless, this is something you can work through together.

They get very defensive, very quickly, if you say something that unintentionally triggers them, they will shut off, going into some type of hermit mode until they feel ready to talk about whatever it is that bothered them.

[portgasdwrld]

📂 Op men + them being jealous

part 1

Featuring: Monster trio (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

Warning: fluffy fluff, ended up being the monster trio being subtly jealous lol Ik I was going to make it suggestive but I like it better that way, might change it for the others

Note : After 200 weeks, 1500 minutes and 25 years, I’m finally posting this serie after thousands of drafts 👩🏻‍💻 y’all don’t know how many times I wrote and erased stuff 😭

Luffy

The crew just landed on a new island, it was a huge forest, not a person in sight. You weren’t particularly a big fan of walking around in an unknown deserted place, especially in the New World where you never knew on what or who you could fall.

On the other side, Luffy was absolutely fearless and enjoyed the thrill of exploring the unknown and seeing unusual creatures; Sailing was all about that for him. An adventure wasn’t an adventure if he didn’t feel that rush of adrenaline faced to a strange situation. He had insisted you come with the exploring team while you pleaded to stay behind with Robin and Usopp.

But here you were walking glued to Sanji as your boyfriend lead the way somewhere in this lost territory filled with trees and the noises of wild animals. He was screaming in excitement when he came across weird insects or odd looking vegetables. You sighed heavily as the anxiety was still heavily present in your system.

The cook adjusted his pace to match yours sensing your uneasiness about the situation. He knew you only came for Luffy, so he made sure to help you feel more comfortable in his own way.

Luffy ran forward as he noticed a beautiful blue flower tinted with yellow strokes that looked like gentle waves. He took it and searched for you with his eyes.

-This would look so pretty on your hair!

He exclaimed as he walked over to you and Sanji while waving the flower in his tan hand. You smiled as you thought it was adorable, but Luffy’s eyes quickly glared at your arms wrapped around Sanjis. He didn’t say anything and simply fixed the flower behind your ear, complimenting you with loving eyes and his cute grin.

-You look perfect!

He announced as he put his arm around your neck, naturally removing you from Sanji. A giggle left your lips as you melt into his familiar warmth. His eyes looked down at you with so much love and care, he wouldn’t want nothing to happen to you. Sanji laughed as he noticed Luffy successful attempt to get you away from him.

Your boyfriend closed the distance between his face and yours. With slightly furrowed eyebrows and serious eyes, he wondered if you were fine.

-Yeah, I just feel uneasy about walking here if I’m being truly honest. I’m not a fearless warrior like you, let’s say~

You explained calmly as you stared back into his big brown eyes. His expression softened up and he moved his arm to be able to grab your hand instead.

-Alright, then stay close to me only. I’m the strongest, so I will protect you no matter what! I promise!

-You’re sweet, thank you Luffy.

He gave a squeeze to your hand as you two followed the group through the millions of trees. Luffy smiled to himself, knowing you were relying on him to protect you now~

Zoro

It was all going well, a great night where Zoro was simply enjoying his time drinking with the others. It was all going great until he noticed a man that kept staring at you. You didn’t notice as you were busy goofing around with Usopp, enjoying a fun conversation.

Zoro felt this feeling of frustration grow in him the more he glared at the person shamelessly eyeing you like he clearly couldn’t see you were taken. That’s when it snapped for him: maybe they couldn’t tell? And that angered him even more. How can this person stare at you like a candy while he was sitting just next to you.

The swordsman pulled you closer to him, making sure his arm around your waist is noticeable. He smirked relieved when he saw the man look away with an annoyed huff. He took a sip from his beer as his smile got bigger. Zoro took that opportunity to slip a quick peck on your jawline.

You stared at him weirdly, wondering what have gotten into him.

-Wassup with you?

-I cant kiss you or what?

-Yeah, but you don’t usually do that.

-You always complain

He whined as he rolled his eye, but still he was glad that no one was hungrily looking your way anymore. You were his and he would make the possible to make it known. Even if it needed him to be outside of his comfort zone, he was going to make sure you were safe from lingering unwanted eyes (maybe to also make himself feel better)

You gave him a funny look, confused about his unusual bright expression. You pecked his lips not giving too much thoughts about it, before going back to your conversation with Usopp. You leant your body on your boyfriends that surprisingly responded to it by holding your waist tighter and rubbing his thumb against your tummy.

-You’re really acting strange, but I ain’t complaining

You said under your breath so only he could hear. He chuckled as he drank some more. You looked over your shoulder with a smile.

-Great, because you’re not leaving my side tonight.

Sanji

Hand in hand, you two walked through the village in the middle of all the varieties of shops surrounding y’all. You wanted to buy a necklace so you were hopeful to find something of your taste and Sanji was more than willing to help you.

He had already made his grocery shopping with you yesterday and organized everything late in the evening, so it was his rest day. He wanted to enjoy the sunny weather with his awesome lover on this pretty day.

It all started when the seller was proposing you multiple options at the table and he invited you to come in the store for something more refined for a beautiful person like you. Sanji didn't care, because of course you are beautiful, so it was only natural that other people would notice. He nodded excited to see what other options the man had that could fit you even better.

Sanji cocked an eyebrow when the seller pushed your hair behind your shoulders and got close to your face as he commented about you smelling good. You laughed as you thanked him, mentioning how your boyfriend bought the scent for you as you pointed at the cook. He put a gorgeous silver piece around your neck and handed you a mirror.

-What do we think?

He asked with a content expression, you stared at the mirror with a floating smile as you nodded, approving the jewelry.

-It's so gorgeous! Oh! What about this one?

You asked as your eyes flew to a more elegant necklace. You walked away from Sanji quickly as you engaged in a great conversation with the seller about the jewelries and some specific information, that your lover was honestly unfamiliar with. Sanji felt like you kind of forgot about him and started to wander around the store on his own as he kept an eye on you, still.

"...should I get into jewelries.."

It was those type of thoughts that occupied his mind as he sulked in his corner. Though, Sanji is a gentleman and he loved more than anything to see you happy and passionate, so he put his jealousy aside to let you enjoy your moment. So, he put his ego aside and started to think about which one would look hotter on you-

-Chérie, have you find something you liked?

He asked you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. You hummed as you looked at the other man and you both nodded, agreeing on something the cook had no clue about.

-I'm going to take this one, what do you think babe?

Sanji kissed your cheeks and whispered in your ears with a smirk.

-They all look beautiful to me, because you are stunning. I don't think I will be of a great help, my love.

You smiled to yourself, because Sanji likes whatever you wear or not. On his end, he just wanted to leave already and pamper you with kisses & hickeys all over your neck to celebrate your new necklace and maybe to let people know you were his..