#SEE YALL NEXT WEEK | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrchiipchrome · 2 months ago

Text

Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

A/n: It's giving 'here damn', sorry for it taking so long icl I was struggling with this one. Say if you can tell whether I was hungry or no making this😭

W.C. - 7.7 k

-------------------------------------

The first thing you can feel as you start to gain consciousness is a weight against your arm, pressing on your bicep and cutting off the blood flow to the rest of your arm. The tingle in the tips of your fingers feels almost like TV static would, pricking and prodding at the insides of your digits almost harshly.

The second thing you feel is something, someone, pressed against your front, the warmth radiating from her disappearing between the two of you and turning into a tingle at the top of your stomach. Her body fits perfectly against your own, curves fitting in the spaces of your body like that what it was made for, maybe it was, you’d never know.

The third thing you feel is fabric against the back of your hand and soft skin beneath the fingertips of your right hand. The softness of the skin doesn’t fool you for a second though, a layer of firm muscle built up over multiple years just beneath it, an impressive feat really.

Still, you don’t open your eyes, much rather wanting to savor the slow morning moments of the Sunday, the last calm one for a while, with pre-season training starting during the new week and school picking up the pace.

The quiet, serene moment is only interrupted by the sound of something crashing to the ground not too far away from where you’re laying in your bed with the unnamed girl, your brain not even registering the familiarity of her scent and body.

Opening your eyes ever so slightly, a quiet groan leaving your mouth as your back meets the soft mattress, you see the dark brown hair splayed all over the pillow and arm, dark brown hair you recognized, dark hair that belongs to the only person that you definitely shouldn’t have been in the same bed as.

How in the actual fuck do you get yourself into these predicaments?

There’s honestly no use in pondering, the events from the previous night flooding in almost immediately, nearly like an old movie from when they still used physical rolls of film. Rubbing your eyes, a yawn escapes from between your lips, the relatively early morning combined with the late night culminating in the exhaustion you’re feeling.

It’s difficult to choose whether to stay in bed with the Croatian beauty or get up and check out what the noise had been caused by, in the end the curiosity won out over the comfort of your own bed and the warmth of the basketball player.

Carefully pulling your arm out from under the brunette’s head, you clench and unclench your hand more than a few times to get the blood flow going again, pins and needles returning as you start gaining feeling back in your forearm.

You pause as you hear a small groan coming from Nika, body still as if you were a statue in order to not wake her any further, a small sigh escaping you when she stills completely, seemingly back in the deep sleep she previously had been in.

Tiptoeing to the door, you very carefully push down on the door handle so as to not wake everyone in the building by simply opening your door, opening it a fraction and slipping your body in the space between the door and the frame.

It’s like she doesn’t hear your heavy footsteps against the floor, because when you round the corner of the living room she’s sitting on your couch, watching some trashy reality tv show and eating sugary cereal you got especially for her. Cereal she wasn’t supposed to eat anywhere else than the kitchen because it would be a pain in the arse to clean up if it got on the cushions or literally anywhere else.

Leaning up against the wall, your arms cross over your chest just like a disappointed parent, looking at the older girl tiredly. Still, her eyes are glued on the tv and the drama being displayed on the screen, barely even blinking in order to not miss anything.

“What are you watching?” Em’s eyes snap to you, a scared look on her face, like she knows that she’s been caught doing something she knows she’s not supposed to do. Her almost pathetic attempt at redemption comes from the small smile she’s sending you, trying to convince you not to scold her.

“Hey Y/n, what’chu doing up already?” She asks despite it being almost lunch time, eyes shifting anywhere but to where you’re standing, and you roll your eyes at her antics. Pushing off the wall, you walk in her direction with decisive steps, flopping down on the couch beside her and sprawling out your limbs, looking like a starfish with your butt hanging half over the edge.

Em looks at you all weird, not really understanding why you’re not cussing her out for disrespecting your rules, yet she doesn’t say anything, it would be foolish to incite that kind of reaction. Her eyes stay on you for a few more seconds before she turns back to Love Island on the TV, leading her to just feel you get up from the couch again and not see it.

“So what is this show you’re watching?” You ask her all the way from the kitchen, getting your own bowl out of the middle drawer of the cabinet, closing the drawer with your hip and moving towards the refrigerator, pulling on the handle and plucking the carton of milk out of the small bottom compartment of the door.

Moving back to where your bowl is sitting on the counter, you wait for your best friend to answer the question you posed to her. In the meantime you search for the chocolate cereal you knew you had hidden somewhere in one of the three cupboards in the kitchen.

“It’s called Love Island, they basically fly out a bunch of boys and girls to a tropical island to humiliate them in front of hundreds of thousands of people.” She pauses for a moment in her explanation, seemingly taking another bite of her cereal. “Boys and girls couple up during the first day there then bombshells come in and they can steal girls or boys that are already coupled up, then there’s the recoupling ceremony where people can choose to couple up with someone else. You’ll get it soon enough.

Pouring your cereal in the bowl, you barely look up from your hands as you multitask, listening to Em explain and fixing your own breakfast. Flooding the cereal with a lake of milk, your fingers wrap around the handle of the top drawer, getting a spoon and putting it in the bowl.

Carefully walking back towards the sofa where Em is sitting, you make sure to not spill a single drop on your hardwood floors, not wanting another disaster to clean up. In her short time as your best friend, Em had spilled more than you had in your entire life, thankfully she knew to stay away from anything exceptionally expensive.

“So they like, do this willingly?” You ask her, still confused about why people would do that out of their own free will.

“Yeah, you get famous off it sometimes and you win a shitton of money.” She responds through a mouthful of milk and cereal, looking at you through the corner of her eye as you sit down beside her once again, putting your feet up on the coffee table.

The two of you sit in silence after that, the uncharacteristic silence confusing the brunette laying in your bed. In all the time she had spent with the two of you, there had probably been a collective 5 minutes of silence, not counting when either one of you were unconscious.

When Nika wakes up, she’s all alone in the comfortable, but slightly too big bed. Her pounding head reminds her of the night she barely remembers and her aching limbs feel too heavy to move, half lidded eyes peeking around at the sparse decorations around the room, trying to recognise where exactly she was.

The muffled sounds coming from the other side of the door are enough to pique her curiosity, so with quite a bit of effort, she gets out of the bed she’s almost sinking into, swaying on her feet as she moves towards the door.

Using the wall as support, she quietly makes her way towards the living room, the source of the quiet noise. As the light from the open room hits her eyes, she lets out a groan, the headache doubling in painfulness, her now closed eyes failing to pick up the looks she’s getting from the two of you.

A look of pure adoration flashes across your face as Nika practically stumbles into the room, one hand covering her eyes and the other up against the wall, practically holding her up. In your 18 years on earth, you’re more than sure that you’ve never seen something as gorgeous as the girl standing only steps away from you, a realization that was becoming far too normal in your unusually interested mind.

On the other side of the couch, a mischievous look in her eyes that tells you everything you need to know, not that you see it, too focused on Nika to even pay your best friend any mind.

Nika herself doesn’t see either of the looks, too preoccupied with the pounding in her head, simply moving closer to the couch with almost stumbling steps, like a little lamb trying to make its way to the shade.

In the end she has to catch herself more than once before she finally throws herself into the space between you and Em, practically sinking into the couch and disappearing between the cushions.

Emma smirks down at her playfully, pondering on whether to tease her or leave her alone, on very pointed look from you though makes her decision very clear. No teasing allowed apparently, wheat has the world come to.

There’s a strange type of silence between the three of you, not uncomfortable by any means but still, it was strange.

Nika’s almost asleep again, her head resting comfortably against your arm after she shifted a bit, just enough for her head to come into contact with the muscle of your upper arm.

By the time Nika looks up at you through her lashes, the cereal in your brightly coloured bowl has turned soggy and lost its matte brown color, now an almost pale brownish beige. Disgusting look really, but still kind of tasty.

“Can I have some?” Her puppy dog eyes are very convincing in their own right, that much you’ll admit, but you’re not sure that the unappetising cereal would be any good in terms of nutrition, not even mentioning the cross contamination happening if you were to share the same spoon as well as the milk in the bowl already.

“Really? It’s all soggy.” You look down at her questionably, not even noticing the dramatic eye roll Emma sends you both at the oblivious nature the both of you possessed. In what universe would you and Nika not end up together? Probably in one where her brother actually cared for his girlfriends.

At that moment, Em realizes that she probably would tell this story at your wedding one day in the future, most likely laughing and halfway to being drunk.

“Hey Em, gimmie some of your fruity pebbles.” Clearly, she’s been caught up in her own thoughts for far too long, lifting herself up on the heels of her hands, Em peeks over the edge over your bowl only to see it void of anything that’s not slightly diluted chocolate milk.

Throwing herself back against the cushions with a groan, both you and Nika look at her amused, the shared twinkle in your eyes telling more of a story than Em could ever realize.

“Ugh, I don’t want to get up, you go get it yourself” She rolls her eyes again, completely oblivious to your knowledge of the fact that she had brought her cereal box with her from the kitchen and that it was next to the couch’s armrest.

“Come on Em, you think I don’t know about your little stash? Come on, sharing is caring as Americans would say.” Your playful smile reaches all the way up to the corners of your eyes, and though she would never admit it, Nika’s sure she feels something other than hunger in her stomach after it.

As Em begrudgingly hands the box over, she doesn’t fail to notice the way your arm slips away from beneath Nika’s head, pouring the sugary cereal into your now shared bowl before handing it back to the shortest of you three, the smooth maneuver you probably didn’t even realize you’d completed results in Nika’s head resting against your chest and your arm slithered around your shoulder.

Even with your seemingly cool, calm and collected demeanor, you’re screaming on the inside, sharing a bowl of fruity pebbles with a gorgeous girl apparently sets every single nerve in your body alight.

And the worst (best) thing about it is how right it feels, despite it all being so incredibly wrong, her boyfriend (who definitely doesn’t care about her like you do) was probably worried sick about her, you would be.

It’s not right, but damn does it feel good to have her close to you.

Not in a gay way or anything, you try to convince yourself, completely platonic, yep, yep, yep, just purely platonic.

Either way, when the world turns upside down, it’s probably smart to contact the nearest Aussie, after making a mental note to call Cailtin later, you settle into the cushions more, eating a spoonful of sharp and colorful flakes, deciding to simply not care about right and wrong for now and instead just… enjoy yourself.

A comfortable silence takes over the room for the next hour or so, the three of you simply sitting quietly, watching the show and enjoying each other’s company.

Through the screaming and arguing of the contestants on the screen, the loud rumbling of your stomach can be heard. It almost echoes throughout the room.

Both of the older girls turn toward you, almost in unison, at the sound your stomach produces, eyes wide and faces filled with pure and unbridled amusement. You’re filled with embarrassment though, a deep, dark blush covering your cheeks, especially so as Nika reaches up to pinch one of them, like a grandmother would.

“Aw, are you hungry? Let’s go fix you something to eat.” Surprisingly enough, it’s not Em that teases you, but instead Nika, who teasingly pats your stomach before slipping out of your grip and standing up in front of you, holding her hand out for you to take, her silken palm meeting yours in a soft embrace.

With unsurprising strength, Nika pulls you up off the couch and almost drags you with her into the kitchen.

Tucked away in the corner, just beside the fridge, there’s a portable speaker that Nika takes with her unoccupied hand, bringing her other hand away from yours to turn it on, then connecting her phone not long after. Within the span of a couple moments, music starts playing in the kitchen, all types of music flowing out in waves.

Looking on cluelessly as she starts swaying her body along to the beat, Nika almost raids your fridge, seemingly disappointed with what she finds as she frowns and pouts adorably. Looking through your cabinets too, she’s even more disappointed with what she finds, brows now fully furrowed.

She picks up her phone from the counter where she had placed it down only moments before, humming along to the chorus, pressing and swiping and messing around on her phone before she looks up and over the top of it.

“Your address?” She asks, trying not to laugh at the dumbfounded look on your face, your mind clearly not comprehending a single thing she had said.

“What?” She smiles all cutely at you, and you have to try your absolute hardest not to replicate her expression, but in the end it’s simply impossible. Her smile is just so contagious that you can’t help it.

“I need your address, I’m ordering the ingredients.” Telling her you address quickly, you also thank her profusely for the thoughtful act, offering to send her the money for the groceries, to which she simply just waves you off, telling you that it wasn’t necessary.

“So… what do we do now?” You ask her, not noticing the way she’s moving closer to you until her hands grip onto yours, stringing you along as she starts dancing to the r&b song. The beat of the song grips ahold of you just enough to the point where Nika doesn’t have to push and pull on you tp make you dance, your body on autopilot.

“You know I really don’t like to dance.” You tell her, fully confused as she smirks at you, well up until you follow her line of sight down to your lower half, moving like a master, like you’d done it a million times before. “Shut up.” Is the only thing that comes out of your mouth, whispered through playfully pursed lips.

“I did not say anything.” She exclaims, still smiling at you teasingly, and you roll your eyes for what seems to be the millionth time since arriving in America, by now not even caring about the playful teasing.

Nika’s phone buzzes after a few more songs, the text message telling her that the ingredients were at the door.

“Come on, let’s go.” She walks to the hallway with you in tow, seeing her open the door to find a short and stout man on the other side, a thick, white mustache covering his upper lip. You both thank him and he gets a hefty tip before you close the door and basically skip your way into the kitchen, ready for some food.

“What are we making?” You ask her excitedly, almost buzzing with pure anticipation.

“We are making štrukli, it’s from Croatia.” Nodding along to her words, you walk towards the sink to start washing your hands, all whilst Nika starts to unpack all the ingredients and placing them on the counter. Shaking the water off your hands, you soon make your way to the drawer where all your aprons and towels were stored, pulling out the first one you could see and putting it on, absentmindedly tying the strings behind your back.

Looking back up from the floor, you soon see the look Nika’s giving you, half teasing and half plotting. Her eyes trail up and down your body, staying a moment or two extra on your torso before flicking back up to your eyes and then back down again.

Looking down at yourself, you see exactly what’s caught her attention, and the embarrassing print covering the front of the apron spells out a big “Kiss The Cook”, a gift from Lucy who thought she was oh so hilarious, in her mind it was an appropriate gift for a college student.

Your cheeks darken once more, your hand coming up to rub at the back of your neck before you speak.

“Uh yeah, um it was a gift from my older sister, well not my actual older sister, I don’t have one of those, but from my uh, my pseudo-” In your stupor, you had once again not noticed the way Nika was moving closer to you until her unbelievably soft lips were pressed to your cheek, her hands pressing down against your hip bones to push herself up slightly. Heaven was gifted to you in the form of a single moment, a single kiss pressed fleetingly to your cheek by a divine woman with a boyfriend.

A boyfriend. Fuck.

“So, a kiss for the cook, now we can start.” Just as quick as it happened, Nika moves away from you and towards the sink behind you to wash her hands, leaving you completely dumbfounded, almost convinced that the whole thing had been a dream. She’s a whole dream, nothing that perfect could be attainable in real life.

But as she pats you on your back, you get thrown back into reality, with Nika standing beside you at the counter there’s virtually no chance of a possible escape, not that you’d ever want that either way. She grabs the ingredients, carefully pushing them in front of you both before ordering you to get a bowl.

The plastic clanks against the counter as you put it down, Nika now ordering you to start making the filling made up of cheese, a pinch of salt, eggs and sour cream, whilst she makes the dough herself.

“This look good enough, boss?” Holding up the mixing bowl in order for her to check the contents, she nods quickly after looking at the mixture for a moment or two, beckoning you over at the same time.

“Alright, you put it on there.” She points to the dough rolled thin on the counter, and you move over as quick as your legs allowed you to, handing her the bowl so that you couldn’t mess everything up. “Like this.” She says, spreading the cheese mixture along the bottom quarter of the dough. Standing right behind her to get a closer look at the process, you peek over her shoulder as she works diligently, strong arms flexing with every single move she makes.

“Usually there would be a… how do you say? Stolnjak… like a cloth.” She rubs her thumb against her pointer and middle finger - almost like she’s asking for you to pay up - before she moves her hand back down towards the counter.

She takes the edge of the dough and starts to push it towards the other edge, making a roll that, at last, ends up in the middle of the counter.

“Plate, please.” She holds her hand up, ready for a plate to be placed between her waiting fingers. You move away from her, and for just a millisecond, Nika misses the warmth your body provided her, being just close enough for your bodies to exchange heat. After finding a plate that you felt was sturdy enough, you place it in between her fingers and wait for what she’s going to use it for.

She turns around briefly to flash her winning smile at you as an inaudible thank you, but then she turns back around and starts to press the plate’s edge against the soft dough, cutting it whilst at the same time sealing the edges off.

“Next steps are secret, go sit with Em.” She looks over her shoulder at you, a mischievous glint in her eye, all before she starts to physically shoo you away and out of the kitchen, even going as far as to start pushing against your chest to get you to go back to the living room.

Feet shuffling against the floor, you look back towards the kitchen sneakily, trying to get a sneak peek of the so-called secret step, only to be met with a middle finger and a playful smile paired with a knowing look.

Jumping over the back of the couch, you settle down into the couch with your back resting against the arm rest and your feet resting in Em’s lap. She looks at them disgusted, like she hadn’t done the exact same thing a hundred different times before.

“First you steal my cereal, then you put your disgusting feet in my lap, where are your manners?” She asks, playful annoyance coating every word coming out of her mouth, shaking her head almost like she’s disappointed in you.

“First of all, I paid for that cereal, so it’s mine, secondly I have socks on, no cross contamination.” You smile cheekily at her, shrieking when she pokes the underside of your foot, extremely ticklish. Something Em really wasn’t supposed to know.

“Ticklish huh, now we’ll see who really owns that cereal.” Her statement makes no sense at all, but you don’t have any time to ponder over it as she throws herself onto you, starting to tickle your sides before you start to gain control, flipping her over and letting the wrestling commence.

Knocking over the empty bowls standing on the coffee table, it seems like Nika finally notices the childish nature of playing happening in the living room, her accented voice being heard all across the apartment.

“Children, stop it before you break something.” The both of you stand up almost immediately, going into the military salute position, throwing yourselves back onto the couch when she giggles at the pure silliness of the apparent adults standing only a couple meters away from her. Well you were barely even legal, but that’s a problem for another day.

Em’s eyes widen once more when she sees the print on the apron you’re still wearing, going back into mischievous mode in less than a second.

“Ooooh, did the chef get the kiss?” She teases simply, and you try your hardest to keep the poker face, even going as far as to start coughing to have a reason for the blush that’s surely covering your cheeks by now, but of course that only makes you more suspicious. “Wait, actually?” She leans over towards you, shock displayed all over her face.

“No, she kissed me on the cheek, you know, like friends do?” Pushing her face away from yours with your hand, Em starts making kissy faces from the other side of the couch, by now neither of you are paying attention to the program on the tv, just focussed on annoying the other as much as possible.

“How come I don’t get any of that honey?” She teases, leaning closer again this time to pretend to kiss you on the cheek, before you once again push her away.

“Shut up” Crossing your arms across your chest, you signal that you’re done with the conversation, Em like always, continues on with her antics, but you don’t pay her any mind, the older girl finally shutting up like you asked her after a while.

With the both of you slowly being pulled back into the show that is love island, there’s no way that you notice Nika’s nearing figure until she’s standing right in front of the tv, somehow holding three plates of steaming food.

“Lunch is served.” Her proud smile is adorable and you actually have to prevent yourself from aww-ing at it, which is harder than it may seem. As she hands you your plate, your stomach rumbles loudly again which lets you know that it’s time to eat.

The first bite tastes like pure love, and you can’t help the loud groan from escaping through your lips, a pure home cooked meal differing from the plain rice and chicken that you’d had for lunch practically since you arrived in America.

“This is so good, you did such a good job.” Looking at Nika sincerely, it’s difficult not to notice the growing smile on her face after your words, even as she moves closer to sit down between you and Em, the smile stays on her beautiful face. She smiles a lot. That’s a good thing, you decide, a person with a smile as gorgeous as that shouldn’t hide it.

“We.” She reminds you, after a second or two, a fond look in her eye that you hadn’t seen before, it’s kind of like the way parents looked at their kids in the movies when they got good grades or something. Yeah, no, probably not that. “We both made it, and you’re right, we did a hell of a good job.”

Em nods in agreement at the statement, not as thrilled to be, what she deems as third wheeling as someone might think, if only she had stayed home last night. Last night, the party, getting drunk beyond belief, bumping into Nika and one of her basketball buddies, Party P, getting pulled into more than one beer pong game, nearly passing out and then waking up to Nika using her phone, to then falling asleep just before getting woken up, insulting your pjs and then getting driven home. Wait.

“Oh shit.” Em says just before springing up off the couch in a panic, both you and Nika’s eyes following the cartoonish action, Nika far more concerned than you, simply based on the fact that she

isn’t practically living with the… enthusiastic girl. Em exclaims shit like that once every half an hour normally.

“Oh shit what?” The brunette asks, hoping to get a ‘I forgot my homework’ oh shit rather than a “I dropped my phone in the toilet” oh shit.

“I fucking forgot that I left my car back at the school. We have to go get it.” She exclaims, almost running for the door as Nika stands up slowly, looking at you unimpressed as you lean back into the cushions.

“What?” You ask innocently, like you can’t figure out why she’s looking at you in the way she is on your own. Taking another bite, Nika sighs and rolls her eyes before she once again sticks her hand out for you to pull yourself up with.

“You know I have to get home too, I can’t stay here forever.” She says, raising her eyebrows when you practically ignore her in favor of watching the show on the tv. Stepping so that she’s blocking your line of sight, her eyes staying on you until you actually get up. “Come on.”

“But the drive-” You start off, almost whining to the obviously amused girl, who just starts to beckon you over to where she’s now standing halfway across the apartment in the hall.

“But the drive nothing, if you don’t want Em to drive your precious baby.” She teases, getting startled when you zoom past her, just barely remembering to grab your keys off the hook before absolutely legging it down to the bottom floor. Unbeknownst to you, Nika takes her time and puts the dishes in the sink just to make it a little easier for you before she carefully slips her shoes on.

Looking around the hall, she soon sees the spare house keys hanging off a hook not far from the hook your car keys hung on just a moment before. Just as the tall brunette exits out the front door, the door just beside yours also opens and an adorable dog jumps onto her, all excited and puppylike despite clearly not being a puppy.

“Who are you? Oh you’re so cute.” Nika coos at the slobbering dog, getting up from the ambush to kneel in front of him, scratching just behind his fluffy ear. He lays down on the ground, showing his stomach for loads of belly scratches.

“That’s Bubba, he’s just a little eccentric.” The old woman standing in front of her reaches out for her hand, bringing Nika up from the floor and leaving her own dog whining for more bellyrubs. “He’s a big baby. You’re one of Y/n’s friends? I haven’t seen you ‘round before.”

Nika nods her head quickly, introducing herself to the lady with the cutest dog ever.

“Yeah I’m dating Emma’s brother, but yeah we’re friends. I’m Nika.” She smiles, and the old woman replicates her actions. There’s an almost standstill for a moment before the gray haired woman sighs, looking at her amused.

“Alright now, if you’re ever having any problems with them knuckleheads, don’t be ‘fraid to knock and I’ll fix it right up for ya. And I just want to tell you how gorgeous you are, my god you are something else.” With that, the old woman leaves with her fluffy dog and her tiny red pure that Nika hadn’t noticed before.

Shrugging, Nika turns around and locks the door before making her way down to the lobby, walking out the door only to see you and Em basically wrestling on the ground in front of your garage. She rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, walking over with sure steps to deliver steady slaps to the backs of both your heads.

“Ouch.” Rubbing the backs of your heads, both you and Em follow after Nika as she makes her way to sit in the passenger seat, Emma groaning at the action like she even had a chance at shotgun in the first place.

“Y’all are idiots sometimes, you know that?” She says, waiting for the key to be inserted into the ignition so that the car can be started, and her words make you roll your eyes sassily. There’s always a bit of sass in you.

“Come on, bro let’s just go.” Em sits in the middle seat, poking her head forth between the front seats, using her elbow to nudge Nika in the ribs. Not that it would make any difference, since you were the one driving and not her.

Driving out of the garage, your precious baby of a car rumbles in that familiar way, the pebbles on the ground crackling under the weight of the car.

“Let’s get some life up in here.” Em exclaims after a few minutes of quiet driving, the sound of the engine mixed with the air coming from the vents clearly not satisfying the older girl. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Em leans forward and turns the radio on, the volume high like it’s supposed to be.

“Sit down Emma, are you trying to get us killed?” You ask, half joking and half serious, the surprising action from the girl in the backseat having startled you only moments before. The click of the seatbelt sounds behind the loud music, a reassurance that she indeed did not aim to be killed.

“Shush, enjoy my company kiddo instead of complaining.” Em smiles mischievously at you through the rearview mirror, leaning back into the seat and putting her hands together over her stomach.

“Oh so I’m kiddo now?” You look back at her briefly with the trademark ‘really?’ look, turning your eyes back to the road so as to not put everyone in danger. Nika giggles beside you, and it catches your attention quicker than you’d ever admit, not that you’d ever admit to most things, especially those involving Nika. Not that there was anything about her to admit in the first place, you tell yourself in your head, right.

“Would you rather be grumpy?” You hear Em’s accusing tone shining through the loud music in the background, and you can imagine the expression on her stupid face, with raised brows and an idiotic look.

Deciding to stay quiet in order to not give her any more ammunition, it seemingly gives her a lot more than you would have thought.

“Thought so.” She sticks her tongue out at you through the rearview mirror and you can’t help but shake your head in amusement, deciding to just let her be.

During the next hour, your car turns into a concert hall as Nika and Em sing along to the songs on the radio, and you catch yourself smiling at their silliness more than once, especially as they start singing to each other like they were in a band.

And to everyone’s surprise, you had even joined in a few times.

Luckily enough for Em, nothing had happened to her old ass car by the time you had dropped her off, except for the fact that it was 23 years old and that the paint was chipping in various places, the car seemed fine enough.

Driving off in the direction Nika had pointed in, you flip Em the bird just for fun as you pass her by and she sends you one right back, all before Nika slaps the back of your head, calling you a child lovingly.

“Okay, right here and then you can park there.” Nika points to a spot right outside of the dorm building as you pull up in front of it, looking around you carefully as you park, there’s no way you would ever risk damaging your car.

Pulling the keys out of the ignition, you get out of the car at the same time as Nika does, locking up and checking it once, then twice and then thrice, just to be sure. Looking up, you see the unimpressed look the girl at the other side of the car is giving you, and you send her a sheepish smile in return.

“You care more about that car than you do your apartment.” Nika says just as you round the corner of the car, sidling up beside her as you two walk shoulder to shoulder towards the entrance of the building, the code to the door being put in before either of you can make your way into the building.

Looking around the entrance, there’s really not a lot to comment on, a couple of security cameras and some sort of guard sitting by the door. Well protected at least.

“Come, we need to get upstairs.” The Croatian beauty takes your hand and pulls you in the direction of a set of stairs leading up to, what you presumed to be floors and floors of rooms.

Following her up the stairs, it doesn’t take long for Nika to stop in front of a door, presumably the door to her dorm. She leans down and fiddles with something, somehow managing to produce a keychain from the small space, leaving you completely perplexed.

“How did you just-” She shakes her head amusedly, almost telling you to not even ask just with a simple look. “You’re magic, you know?”

“Thank you, but I’m really not, at most I can hocus pocus my way into some free drinks.” Nika says as she winks playfully at you, pushing her key into the lock without hearing the thumping footsteps coming from the inside of the dorm, too distracted by the dark red blush suddenly covering your cheeks.

As she tugs on the handle and opens the door, Nika’s tackled to the ground by a mystery girl, someone who’s clearly quite excited.

“NIKAAAAA, twin where have you been? I was literally posted up in here last night waiting for you.” The mystery girl gets up off the brunette, pulling her up and off the floor just a moment later, not even noticing you standing just a few decimeters away.

“You know how it is Paige, making the most out of the last of the off-season.” Nika responds to the blonde you now know to be Paige. Rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, you almost leave without saying goodbye, seeing as your job was done, you had walked her home.

“Whose clothes are these? I know they ain’t yours.” You can hear the blonde, Paige, speak up again, and you see her tug at the corner of the t-shirt that clearly wasn’t Nika’s, seeing as it was a t-shirt you’d gotten for winning some tournament for England’s U21 team not too long ago.

Nika looks back at you for just a second or two, before she’s waving you over to where the two of them were standing not too far away. Walking closer cautiously, you look at Nika, almost asking her “what should I do?” through your gaze.

“Who’s this?” The blonde asks Nika, looking at you skeptically, not judging you but instead wondering who you were.

“You know Cal has a little sister, right? This is her best friend,” Nika starts off looking at Paige before she turns towards you, looking at you intensely as she speaks. “I mean we’re pretty good friends too, right kid?” She teases, and you groan loudly at the nickname, not wanting it to spread further than it already had. You’re not a kid, but to others you might as well be an infant.

“I’m not a child.” The playfully groaned words seem to take the blonde by surprise, for some reason you can’t fathom.

“Whoa, I was not expecting that accent.” She exclaims, looking at you with a huge smile on her face and a glint in her eye that you know you had seen before.

“Most people don’t, it’s quite weird actually.” You look at her as you speak, a small smile appearing across your lips. Shrugging, there’s really no telling why people didn’t expect that accent, but it happened often enough for you to probably need a shirt announcing the fact that you were not American. As if.

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n, a friend of Nika’s and her boyfriend’s little sister.” Sticking your hand out for her to shake, Paige does so with the confidence you’d seen shine through in her interactions with Nika.

“I’m Paige, Nika’s best friend.” Letting go of your hand, the blonde smiles mischievously, in a fashion that suggests that she does it all the time, and based purely on the way Nika rolls her eyes playfully, you’re sure she does.

“Nice to meet you, I should be going though, can’t have Em getting home before me.” Shrugging softly, you turn around to walk away from the two, but the brunette doesn’t let you get too far away before she takes hold of your hand once again, pulling you around to face her.

“I think I forgot my clothes at your place.” She tells you, an adorable frown on her cute face.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ll just bring them ‘round next time.” You wave her concerns off with the simple promise, keeping eye contact all throughout the interaction, not daring to look away from her captivating gaze.

“Next time?” She looks at you almost confused, but not really at the same time, there’s something about her that’s just so difficult to read. Maybe you’ll learn sometime, maybe.

“Yeah, next time.” You respond determinedly, of course you wanted to see her again, as soon as possible, you’re friends and you want to see your friends. As much as you want to see Nika again, the call of home is getting louder second by second and you know you can’t leave Em alone outside your door, waiting to get in as if she hasn’t gotten her own key to your place.

“You wanna see me again?” Nika smiles all mysteriously, raising her eyebrows slightly as if she was surprised before she moves her hand, that you just now realize is still connected to your own, uup to tuck the strand of hair falling down into her line of sight. Before either of you realize what’s happened, you’ve reached up and tucked it behind her ear, not even thinking twice about the usually intimate gesture.

Not even seeing the light blush dusting the brunette’s cheekbones, you continue on with your conversation as if nothing happened, which in your mind was true, there was nothing there at all, right?

“Of course I want to see you again, we’re friends dummy.” The american lingo has clearly started to catch on as you start sounding like some idiot in those cliche american rom-coms that Leah always made you watch with her.

“Okay then, next time.” With that, the girl turns back around to face Paige, who looks at her in a way that you can’t decipher, the both of them disappearing back into the apartment. Shrugging, you start on your walk down the stairs, trudging down the steps until you come down to the first floor, walking out the front door after giving a polite nod to the guard thingy sitting there.

“Y/N!” You can hear your name shouted as you walk towards your car and you turn around, looking up to see Nika waving at you through the open window.

Turning your whole body around to face the building, you wave back at the woman enthusiastically before you turn back around to walk to your car.

Sitting down in the driver's seat, you inhale a deep breath before exhaling smoothly, emptying your lungs of as much air as possible. The headlights light up as you turn the car on, pulling out from in front of the building and onto the small slithering roads leading to the motorway.

The calm drive home isn’t interrupted by anything thankfully, the music from the radio playing softly in the background providing a nice backtrack as the repetitive motions of driving continue all the way until you’re parked back in your garage just outside your apartment building.

Going through everything that you have to do when you get back inside in your mind, you’re almost on autopilot, locking up outside before putting in the code at the door and then taking the elevator up.

The doors slide open, only for Em to be nowhere to be found, seemingly having disappeared into thin air. Eh maybe she’s finally at her own place, you think as you go to open the door of your apartment, suspiciously finding it unlocked.

That is until you remember that you’d run out before without locking so that would make a lot of sense.

Kicking off your shoes just as you come in, there’s a murmur coming from your kitchen, people seemingly speaking in hushed tones. Em was clearly not at home at all, maybe Mrs Peters had invited herself over again.

Walking further into the apartment, you take out your phone just to check to see if you have any new texts, unconsciously walking towards the kitchen and the low voiced chitchat. Opening up the Instagram app, you scroll through your feed for a few seconds before Em’s voice cuts through the now silent air.

“What took you so long?” She asks jokingly, but there was a sort of seriousness underlying in her tone, the thing that makes you grimace, Emma is never serious. Standing just in the doorway of the kitchen, you lean onto the pillar-like structure casually, not noticing anything being out of the ordinary.

“Oh you know how it is, Nika wanted me to-” Looking up in the middle of your sentence, your jaw drops open in shock, eyebrows shooting to your hairline and phone crashing to the ground. “No way.”

“Hey kiddo.”

#woso #woso x reader #lionesses #woso imagines #nika muhl #nika muhl x reader #10/10 series #10/10 #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #seattle storm #see yall in two months #I'm kidding I promise #i have break next week Ill be writing then #hopefully #😏

202 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 8 months ago

Text

The One Where Adam Steals Lucifer's Babe

Word Count: 4.9K A/N: I had an idea about this, but I wanted to get it out. This was supposed to be headcanons, but it turned into a story!! woo(•_•) This is also not done. Like I wanted it to be be headcanons so bad, but i need to establish a plot line because im like dumb. um, so yeah. if this does become anything more, i think max three chapter Its written as if Adam is a sinner so yeah!! -

Dating the King of Hell should be easy- nothing short of bliss and love. And it is easy being with the King of Hell, when he has to make appearances, and he has to put up a front. But being with Lucifer is much more difficult. You know he’s not over Lilith, and you aren’t even close to being a replacement for her. And yet, he keeps you around. You can trick yourself that he still wants you, that maybe he does enjoy being with you. But lying to yourself doesn't make anything easier. You walk out of the castle without a word to Lucifer, childishly hoping that he’d figure out that you weren’t there on his own. On your stroll to nowhere in particular, you check your phone constantly, hoping to see a missed message or call from him- some type of form that he still takes notice of you. You have to silence your phone when you feel tears prick your eyes at the empty screen.

You wind up in some sleazy bar, a bit too tipsy, and far too melancholic to do anything more than swirl a glass of alcohol with melting ice. You watch the condensation drip down the side of the glass, creating a ring over the coaster. Beside you, the chair scrapes, and your spirits are lifted. It’s Lucifer! He’s chased you down and now he’s going to apologize and proclaim his- your shoulders fall when you realize that it’s not Lucifer. The realization leaves you cold and far lonelier than you initially were. Instead, it’s Adam- the First Man. You wonder for a brief moment if he even still calls himself that.

“Mind your fuckin’ business,” he sneers, sitting beside you. He lifts his hand, and the bartender pushes a glass and a bottle towards him, muttering something about a tab under his breath before turning his attention elsewhere.

You heard he had become a Sinner- the very thing he sought to kill for entertainment not that long ago. However, you had yet to see him since he was stabbed by Niffty. You wonder if his new form has a hole in his back now.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he tells you, malice tinged at his words, but he makes no real motion to actively wave you off. You’re sure he would have if he was still divine.

A closer inspection reveals that he’s in far worse shape than you could have imagined. A beard that’s in the awkward phase of growing out, deep bags under his eyes, and gaunt cheeks. Hell has not been kind to him. But, what else could you have expected? He was an exorcist- the exorcist- and now, he’s stuck in Hell. Honestly, you should be surprised that his head isn’t mounted somewhere.

You turn back to your drink, and wipe a line of condensation off. “I’m surprised you’d even show your face around these parts,” you mumble, taking a swig of your drink. It burns going down, and you try to hide your displeased expression.

“Fuck you,” he hisses out, taking a long drink from the bottle.

“You know, as a former exorcist, I’d suggest being nice to demons around these parts.” You raise your hand at the bartender, and he walks over, and places the tab in front of you. “You never know who you’re gonna piss off next.” You leave a hefty amount, enough to cover your drinks and leave a pretty tip.

“What? You’re gonna sick Lucifer on me?” You turn to him, embarrassment hot on your cheeks, and he wears a crooked smile. “Your face and his are plastered everywhere I look.”

With a sigh, you push the check away from you. “Must suck for you,” you mumble. His response is to take a drink from the bottle. “I hated having my picture taken before,” you tell him, unsure if he’s even listening or not. “I felt that they never really got my good side.”

“I’d get photographed all the time in Heaven,” he says in a low tone after a moment of silence. “Bitches could never get enough of me.” You scrunch your nose at the word, and fold the straw wrapper into squares. “Fucking loved it.”

“Wish I loved the camera.” You cross your ankles together, tucking them under the seat of the stool. “I hated being looked at.”

There's a pause in the conversation, long enough that you believe the small talk has ended. You could go back to the castle but if Lucifer hadn't taken notice of your absence, you'd surely have a breakdown. Maybe you could go to the hotel. Charlie would understand. “You still get your picture taken?” Adam asks, his voice startling you.

You tilt your head to the side, underneath the seat, your legs twist around themselves. “Not as often as I used to. I think it was more like uh-” you wave your hand around and the folded wrapper unfurls itself- “shock value? I think. Like the King of Hell downgrading to some resident.” You smile bitterly. “Not even a Goetia or anything.”

“A Goetia?”

“These magical birds.” You look at him. “You’ve been in Hell for a bit, haven’t you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard or seen them.”

“I don’t get out a lot.”

“‘Cause you’re hated?” You ask, a wicked tone laced in your words. Adam responds by mocking your voice with the same question. You scoff with a smile on your face. “I wonder why, if you’re such a peach.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

It’s silent. And you watch as the bartender grabs your drink, leaving the coaster behind. A memory of drinking with Lucifer pops into your head- his honeyed smile as he pours you a glass of wine that you would have never been able to afford, to even be aware of such a delicacy that existed in Hell. Never would he have taken you to some dingy bar where less than savory individuals reside.

You’ve been taken care of. Pampered and adored for a considerable amount of time, before all the light had dimmed. You should have never allowed yourself to get used to such treasures. You glance over at Adam, and wonder if he can understand. “Do you come here often?” You ask him, crossing your arms over the bar. He chokes on his drink and slams the bottle down. He gives you a bewildered stare and you raise your shoulders defensively. “What? I’m just asking,” you say. “The bartender looks like he knows you.” You catch the bartender’s eyes and he quickly looks away. “Or at least enough to keep a tab open.”

“There’s not much to do around here,” he answers.

You fill your cheeks with air and let it slowly blow out through pursed lips. There's plenty to do- sort of. Minus the drugs and sex, most of Hell's greatest features are stuck in other rings. “There’s the Cannibal Sector,” you offer. “You gotta be careful but Rosie is nice and she sells pretty things. I have this hairpin in the shape of a human hand.” Adam gives you a look. “It might be a real hand, huh.”

“The fuck are you even doing out of your castle.”

You deflate. “Rough night,” you say with a sigh. “What about you?”

“Rough night,” he answers

You nod in solidarity. “I’m not usually a drinker,” you confess. “The taste is a bit too bitter for my liking. But being at the castle just wasn’t-” it’s not for you, the pampered life, acting as a placeholder, the King- “I didn’t want to be there.”

When Adam fails to say anything else, you feel embarrassed to even say something like that to the former angel beside you. He wouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. Why would he ever worry himself over the likes of you, when your supposed partner couldn’t. He sniffs, and places the bottle down. It’s nearly empty.

“Where do you want to be then?” His eyes are still golden, unblinking as he stares.

Gold meets your own eyes, and you flicker to the horns over his head, curling overhead much like his former exorcist mask. You look back at his eyes, at the way he holds the bottle loosely. “I don’t know,” you confess.

There’s a moment of silence, and he finishes the last bit of alcohol. You wonder how many he usually drinks before he goes back home. “You wanna come over?” He asks, and there’s a shade darker that brushes against his cheeks, and he tries to ask nonchalantly, but he toys with the words, and he swallows too harshly for him to not be worried about your answer. As if he’s asking some forbidden question. But, you’re lonely, and you don’t want to be alone in a bar longer than you already have been.

You look at the exit, half-hoping that Lucifer would be there, ready to take you to his home, and a part of you is glad that he isn’t there. You look back at Adam, and nod your head. “Lead the way,” you tell him.

The sound of the bartender yelling behind you about a tab, has you smiling, feeling as if you’re dining and dashing despite you having paid for your portion. Adam doesn’t seem to care, walking without breaking a stride, just waving his hand without looking back.

It doesn’t take long before you’re climbing up steps that need to be looked at, rust falling off with each bounce. You’re sure that you can hear something unsavory going on in a room, but a whistle from Adam has you scurrying along. There’s no reason that you should know anything more than you already do.

You enter his apartment, and take a careful look around. It’s messy- clothes strewn across, dishes left out, and you feel pity for him. A single couch is close enough to the rather small television, a coffee table that has paint chipping and dents is one of the few pieces of furniture in the rooms. A sliding door is closed, a few broken blinds giving you just a glimpse into the outside. “You certainly,” you pause, trying to find something nice to say, “have a place,” you end defeatedly. You stand near the door, clicking the lock into place, as if that would protect you from any dangers out in the world. Perhaps you should be worried about Adam, about the angel who would bear his fangs and be drenched in blood, too excited about senseless murder. But you catch him kicking things under the couch, trying to spruce up the place even if just by a smidge.

“Fuck you,” he says without conviction. He grabs at a pile of clothes and tosses it on top of a chair, leaving the couch clear for you and him to sit. Smiling softly, you take a seat. He places himself close to the arm rest, and watches as you look around. “I uh, I clean- sometimes.” He sounds unsure of himself.

“I like cleaning,” you tell him, grabbing at a magazine on the worn out coffee table. It’s some tabloid, and you see a snippet of you and Lucifer in the corner. You turn to the page where you two are supposed to be. It’s titled as “Issues at Home?” You frown, and turn to another page. “I like organizing and stuff. Um, it helps uh, Lucifer. He does a lot of projects.”

“You don’t got any?”

“I have hobbies, but they come and go.” Your eyes skim the page, talking about Velvette’s new clothing line. You pull your lips into a thin line, a part of you wants to wear her outfits, but you aren’t sure you could pull them off. “It’s all just-” you flutter a hand in the air- “you know, stuff.” You place the magazine back on the table. “What about you?”

He smiles and leans back on the couch, the cushion creasing under his weight. “I like to play the guitar.” You perk at the mention, and watch as he rests his hands over his stomach. “I was in a band. Played the guitar, got all the chicks that I wanted.”

“Were you good at the guitar?”

He nods his head. “Oh, you should’ve fucking seen me. I was like a fucking god on stage.” He holds his hands out and mimics a guitar. You huff out a laugh, and watch as he lets his hands fall. “I got to fuck whoever I wanted. And I mean, who wouldn’t want to fuck me? Look at me.” he tosses you a lazy look, matched with a sly smile, and you can see how people would be attracted to him. “I was the first dick– of course, everyone wanted me.”

“What songs would you perform?”

“Rock mostly.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Crowd went wild.”

“You’d perform in heaven?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. If I felt bold, sometimes the band and I would do a show on Earth. I’m telling you humans would just throw themselves at you, begging to be fucked in some grimy ass restroom.”

You scrunch your nose. “Sounds gross.”

“It was,” he says with a faltering smile. He cocks his head to the side, and there’s a softness to his words. “Gross as shit, but the girls were hot.”

You cross your ankles together, and turn to face him. Your arm cushions itself between the couch and your head to watch him. “Do you not play anymore?” you ask hesitantly,

He sucks on his bottom lip, teething at the skin, before letting it go. “I haven’t tried to summon my harp- guitar- shit, thing, since I’ve been here.” He closes his hands into a loose fist and kicks his legs up on the beaten coffee table. “There’s this pawn shop a few streets down, and they have this guitar for sale.”

“Are you thinking about buying it?”

“I have other shit to worry about.” He gives you a look, a fleeting sense of exhaustion and acceptance that washes over him, that makes him feel a bit more real, a bit more like you. “It isn’t even that good.” He sounds like a child, trying to justify something to themselves. “It’s beat up, and the strings are probably worn-” he shakes his head- “it's not worth it.” You open your mouth to reassure him that it probably is worth it. That despite the condition that it’s in and the price for it, if he wants it, it's worth it. Even if he could never play it, even if it’ll never be restored to its original beauty, it would be his. You only manage to suck in a gulp of air, when a knocking at the balcony door grabs your attention. “Some fucking bird that keeps bothering me.” He looks over at you, and glances back to the door, and back at you. “I have a balcony. Wanna sit outside?”

You nod quickly, closing your mouth. “Yeah.”

He walks past the door, and leaves it open for you. Just like when you entered, you close the door behind you, half-heartedly hoping that it won’t lock behind you. His balcony holds two chairs- both different kinds and both equally as rough looking. A part of you wonders where exactly he got this furniture. There’s a dying plant shoved in the corner, the leaves brown and stem wilting under the weight of the dying leaves.

“Quit judging,” he snips.

You scoff, a smile teasing at the corner of your lips. The air of Hell is cool, wind breezing over your skin and you stare down into the streets, watching as Imps and Sinners live their lives, peacefully uninterrupted. Sitting down, your breath hitches when the chair dips under your weight. It’s quiet between the two of you, silence in each other’s company where you both just stare at the world in front of you.

You can see the holy light from the embassy, and you can see Heaven’s light- the rings that are protected by wings. It lights up the night sky far better than the pentagram ever has, and sitting under the light of it, makes you wonder if anything is different in Heaven since Adam’s death- or rather, reincarnation. “Do you miss Heaven?” You ask, before you can register the weight of the words that it holds. You turn to him, almost scared of any answer that he would give.

“That’s a stupid question,” he spits out. You don’t respond, and you stay looking at him. He turns his head to avoid your gaze, his legs stretching out in front of him. After a beat of silence, he looks ahead of him. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I do.”

“What do you miss about it?”

“Full of fucking questions, aren’t ya?” He stays silent, and after a moment, he lets out a soft sigh. “Everything.”

“There’s not many stories about Heaven down here. You know, minus the ones that we all know. The golden gates-”

“Pearly gates,” he corrects. You look at him, and he has his eyes casted down. “They’re pearly.”

“The pearly gates,” you correct, “the clouds, the happiness and peace. I just- Other than that, there’s nothing else to go off of. But I guess, why would I know. Heaven seems so far away, like some mythical place.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t talk about it?” Adam asks with a sneer.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. “He doesn’t like talking about Heaven. Sometimes-” you lick your lips- “Sometimes it feels like he hates everything and everyone down here. Like he can’t stand the idea that he’s stuck here.” You scratch your neck, and pinch your legs together. “It’s like the memories of Heaven are too painful.”

“That magazine said y’all were breaking up.”

“Maybe,” you answer.

“You can talk about it if you want. Would make this night a helluva lot more interesting.” You look at him. “I’m all ears.”

“And horns,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he says with an impish tone.

You smile, and kick out your legs. Your phone buzzes, and with hope, you believe that it’ll be Lucifer. Your heart sinks when it’s only a notification from Sinstagram. With a frown, you silence your phone. “In the beginning, it was easy to forget that he was married. I mean, I always knew. He has her portraits hanging, and he talks about Charlie constantly.” You smile bitterly and scratch at your phone case. “I don’t blame him for that, but-” you shrug- “it hurts knowing that he still clings to her.” When Adam stays silent, you continue. “He can be kind- real attentive and sweet. But sometimes, when he’s had a uh-” you struggle to find a word- “a bad day, he gets real low. And I hate to admit it, but he gets clingy and it’s nice to know that I can still serve him in some way.” Your fingers pinch at the bridge of your nose, and you let your hand cover your mouth. “But then, there are moments, where it feels like he’s actually looking at me- where he’s just everything,” you say wistfully, your hand stretching out in front of you, clasping around the night air. You glance at Adam, who watches your hand as you pull it back to yourself. “Sorry, I uh, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“So why’d you leave then?”

Perhaps you’d get a biased opinion- you’re aware of how Adam feels over Lucifer, and practically every other inhabitant of Hell. He thinks of himself above any other, his own pride being the very thing that made him unaware of Niffty running towards him. You chew on your lip, your hand scratching over your neck. You need to speak to someone. No one else at the hotel will ever give you a straight answer- or at least the answer that you want to hear.

With a sigh, you kick your legs out in front of you. “I like Lucifer.” You can feel his eyes on you. “But, sometimes,” you drag the word, and your body feels hot, “it’s like he’s not present in the relationship. He gives a lot, but he hardly ever asks for anything.”

There’s a pause. “What could you even give him?” he asks in sincerity.

There’s a pang in your chest, wrapping tightly, threatening to crush your bones, and leaving you a battered and broken mess on Adam’s balcony. You can’t give him anything that he doesn’t want. He has his daughter, he had his wife, he has his title for better or for worse. All you can offer is a moment of content, and even then it seems that you can no longer do that.

You shrug your shoulders at an attempt of a weak answer. “I know that he’s still not over his wife. Or ex-wife. I'm not too sure of the title and I hate to ask. He gets all mopey and deflective.” You kick at the ground, and insecurity hugs you tightly, and drips into your words. “He stares at portraits of her, and well, it’s hard to compete with the literal Queen of Hell, when I’m just-” your jaw stiffens, and you look at the ground through blurring eyes- “me.” You stand in her shadow without even having met her. “Even when I dress up, I feel like a child playing pretend. I don’t- I’m not like her.” You’ve stared at her portraits that still hang in the palace, and they consume you. Her smile, her delicate hands, and the elegance that is so evident in portraits. It feels childish to compare yourself to someone so regal and poised.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “My ex was pretty hot.” Your eyes widen, and you turn to him. “They both were.” He lets out a sigh, and keeps his eyes fixed in front of him.

“Adam,” you squeak out. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, blood rushing to your face, making your body uncomfortably warm. “I hadn’t meant- I didn’t mean to talk about her with you. I’m so sorry.”

“The fuck are you apologizing for?” He asks, eyes narrowed and mouth twisting to an ugly sneer.

You cross your arms over your chest, bringing them to an ‘X’ where your hands curve over your biceps. “It’s just that I’m talking about Lucifer and your ex-wife.” You frown when he gives you an ugly look. “I just- I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gives a shrug of his shoulders, his gaze still focused elsewhere. “Lucifer already talked shit about how he banged both of them. It's whatever.”

Your brows furrow, and you watch as Adam pats his pockets, fisting a hand into one of his pants pockets. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing on and sticking the tan end of it into his mouth. He motions the carton at you, and you pull your mouth into a thin line.

“If you're gonna bitch about smoking, you're one lame sinner.”

“Eve? He slept with Eve, too?”

“Oh shit.” The cigarette hangs between his teeth, until pulls it back into his mouth. “You didn't know.” He almost sounds apologetic. He grabs at a lighter and it takes a few clicks to light the white of the stick.

“He doesn't really talk about his sex life before me.” You slump further into yourself, your nails scratching over your skin. “It's in the past. I know I shouldn't be hurt over what he's chosen to share with me, but-” you toss your head back, and in the red sky, the stars are dim. “I don’t know. It just feels like another kick on a shitty night, ya know?”

“I’m shitty?” He almost sounds offended.

“No, no” you shake your head. “If anything, you’re like the one good thing out of this night.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t so bad yourself.” You turn to him, your head cocked to the side. “You got a nice body. If you weren’t stuck here, I would’ve bagged you already.” You stretch your lips thin, and Adam shrugs, blowing out a puff of smoke. “You’re easy on the eyes.”

“Thanks Adam,” you say hesitantly. He holds out the cigarette towards you and you wave your hand. “I’m good.”

“So what now? You gonna go back to him?”

“I don’t even think he knows that I’m gone,” you say honestly. The confession makes you feel lighter than you thought it would. “It’s comfortable with him. It’s easy- I don’t have to worry about things, but, I also don’t have to worry about anything. And sometimes, I want to worry. I want him and I to argue about dumb shit, and I want to worry if he’s coming to bed or not, and not being resigned to the fact that I know he won’t.”

The silence is broken by the scraping of the chair, and you watch as he rises, stretching his arms above him, the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Eve tolerated me,” he says quietly, letting out a breath of smoke. You look at him, biting at the inside of your cheeks. “She loved me for a while. She was devoted to me. But I uh- I’m pretty sure that was because she was made from me.” A hand cups over his side. “Blind loyalty or whatever. But when she bit that apple, whatever she felt for me was gone.” He speaks quietly, and slowly, as if the words and the thoughts of it were slowly piecing themselves together, a puzzle that he had long put away in order for it to never make sense. “She didn’t care what I did as long as I left her and the-'' someone below lets out a scream, and Adam turns to you, his face flashing a moment of vulnerability before he looks away and puts out the cigarette under his boot. “Well, Eve was Eve.” His brows soften, and he looks tired. “I didn’t tolerate her.”

“Meaning?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “I did love her. She had a part of me after all.” He looks over at you, and his hand tightens over his side, pulling at the fabric. “But that’s not important anymore.” He turns away, and walks back inside. You scurry after him, making sure to lock the balcony door behind you.

You stand awkwardly in the room, unsure of what to do next. Truth be told, you had planned to spend the night in some dingy motel if Adam hadn’t sat beside you. But now you’re here, in his dingy apartment, truths and insecurities laid out for the two of you to bear witness. A part of you wants to bid him goodnight, and maybe when you’d see him out in the streets, you’d give him a cordial nod, and remember how he listened and talked about his ex-wife, and he’d remember you in positive light, despite you only being a mess of insecurities wrapped in sin.

But now, you don’t want to leave. At least a part of you wants to continue this conversation, to keep the comfort wrapped tight around you. You tap your foot against the ground and Adam looks at you, his eyes staring at yours, unwavering from yours. You hadn’t realized just how powerful he stood beforehand.

“You can stay if you want,” he says slowly, unsure of the words that he’s saying. “Take the couch or whatever,” he attempts to sound indifferent, but you can hear the sincerity in the words, uncomfortable, but sincere. “I got a spare blanket you can use.” His teeth are sharp, and they peek out to tease at his bottom lip.

“Really?” You ask, eyes wide and you take a step forward, and he looks away. “I can?”

His mouth thins into a grimace, and he gives a forced shrug. “Do whatever you want.”

You look at the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable to sit on, but you’re sure you’ll wake up with a sore back. However, you don’t want to go back to Lucifer, and you don’t want to go to some dingy motel where you’re sure you’ll drink until you’re sick. Looking back at Adam, you nod, a smiling teasing at the corners of your lips, and he finally looks away from you.

“Yes!” You clear your throat. “Yes,” you say in a softer tone. “I’d like that. Thank you, Adam.”

“Whatever.” He walks into his bedroom, and you sit on the couch. He returns with a blanket, and he stands at the end of the couch, looking at you. “I’m not making you breakfast or anything. You gotta figure that shit out on your own.” You nod. The only real worry that you have is that your phone’s battery is at an uncomfortable percentage that you aren’t sure is going to last you.

“I hope Hell is nice for you.” He raises his brows at you. “It’s shitty and the smell of decay is always kinda there, but sometimes, it’s nice down here.”

“Hell is supposed to suck.”

“And it does,” you say with a shrug. “But not all the time, Ads.”

“Don’t call me that.” He tosses a blanket at you- it’s thin and threads have begun to unravel at the seams, but it’s soft. “I’m turning off the lights.”

“Goodnight,” you call out, holding the blanket close to you. You can only smile when the response is a closed door.

257 notes · View notes