#blue red ribbon butterfly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brayneworms · 5 months ago

Text

don't wanna know what's good for me

part one | m.list

featuring. childe/reader

word count. 5.2k

content. NSFW, merc!reader, rivals to Something, masochist!childe, public sex (they're alone but like ... ), gender neutral reader, mild violence + gore (stabbing, blood), degradation (slut), anal fingering, handjob, pet names (sweet thing), begging, reader is fucked in tha head.

notes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i check the notes you will be blocked

♩ gods and monsters — lana del rey

The Snezhnayan air is bitter.

All the more for the fact that, even as you traverse the long lapses of snow and frozen rivers, you're still not entirely sure what you're doing here. Even as you emerge upon the house, a round hike from the bustling towns some way back, lit warmly against the overcast backdrop, you're not entirely sure what you're doing here.

Even when you knock and a tired-looking woman with blue eyes and fiery red hair opens the door, because when she asks if she can help you, you open your mouth and nothing comes out for a few seconds.

"I'm here to see Tar—Childe," you say. Oh. You guess that's what you're doing here.

The door stays pretty much put. The woman looks at you dubiously, and you realise with the same kind of shock a butterfly must feel when getting its wings ripped off that this must be Childe's mother. Archons, he has a mother. Not like you didn't know, but still. Sometimes it's so strange to remember that he's flesh and blood like the rest of you.

"Are you... a friend?" You can't fault her doubtful tone. You certainly don't look Fatui, but you're not an ordinary civilian, either. You probably should have stashed away your daggers before knocking; if you're honest, you hadn't expected Childe to live in such an ordinary home. "He's recovering right now, is all."

"No, yeah. That's why I'm here." The words feel stuck, awkward. Her deep blue eyes are swimming with doubt, so you reach into your pocket. Your fingers brush the hilt of a knife.

You hold up the little box you've stowed in your pocket. Gift-wrapped with a blue ribbon.

"I brought sugared almonds."

Childe looks thunderstruck when you walk in, and you take a moment to enjoy the honest shock on his face. He looks tired—when he sits up, the woven blankets fall from his shoulders and pool about his waist, displaying a bare torso bandaged to all hell. You can't fault his surprise whatsoever—it had been months since you'd seen each other, since he left Liyue after... well.

The memory of chalk and dirt under your nails, flaking in his hair. The grunts of pain and pleasure that became so frequent the line was quite blurred. You remember how the column of his throat flexed when—

"Scourge," he says, wide-eyed, voice a little rougher than normal. You're not entirely sure what happened in Fontaine, but it must have been exceptionally rough to put Childe on his back like this. You can't help feeling a smidge of envy toward whoever fucked him up so thoroughly. "Do my eyes deceive me?"

"Not this time," you say indifferently, taking a perch on the edge of his bed. His room is disconcertingly boyish, all carved wood and blue knit blankets. There are animals incised along the headboard of his bed, ducks and narwhals and whales. "Brought you a little gift."

You toss the package of almonds over, and his automatic catch of it makes him wince. His fingers are as steady as ever, though, when he deftly unties the ribbon. His eyes peer up at you, even more nonplussed than before. "Did you trek all the way to Snezhnaya to bring me sweets?"

"Oh, you didn't hear? My goal in life is to make you happy." You dig in your satchel, bringing out a small medallion. Childe's eyes glint with recognition when you pull it out into the firelight. "The traveller asked me to return this to you."

"Ah," he breathes. "What a sight for sore eyes." He reaches out, this time, takes it from your hand; you feel the dry brush of his skin against yours. The vision glows happily when Childe cups it in his palm, turning it over and over. "I was wondering how I would've gone about getting this back. The dear traveller is so busy, flitting from one nation to the next... I thought I might've had to trek all the way to Natlan, visionless."

You shuck off your boots and cross your legs beneath you. "Don't tell me you think not having a vision would encumber your progress. You'd really disappoint me."

Childe cracks a smile; there's a split in his lips that has scabbed over, and it strains when they pull apart. "Well, we can't have that, can we?"

He's still irritating, like a bug that buzzes faintly around your ear, the sort small enough to constantly evade killing. But something about seeing him stripped of all his usual finery, and trussed up looking exhausted in his childhood bedroom, is making you more amenable to him.

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth," he says finally, popping a sugared almond between his lips, and you try not to focus on the way they purse and squish around the segment, "But what are you really doing here, scourge? Did you miss me?"

"I think we had this conversation before," you say dryly. "Something about swatting mosquitoes." You pause. "Liyue has certainly been quieter, though. Without all the gods falling form the skies, and torrential typhoons."

Childe's lips quirk. "Well, if you've come looking for adventure, I'm afraid things around here are spectacularly boring. In truth, I grow more restless every day. I'd be up and about already if my blessed mother didn't insist on making me rest. There are a great many things in this world worth arguing with, scourge, but a fifty-year-old Snezhnayan woman isn't one of them."

"I'll bare that in mind."

His eyes gleam. "Oh? You almost sound as if you're planning to stay."

Ugh. You hate when he trips you up like that. He's one of the only people capable of it, too—not that you'd let him know. You squint at him flatly.

"Well. Maybe if you make it worth my while," you drawl, biting back a smirk at the way it makes his ears turn red. "I'm sure I could find something to wave my big sword at in the meantime."

Childe's eyebrows waggle. "Well, if you're looking for a big sword—"

"Down, boy." You jab a finger into his chest, just shy of the bandage wraps, and his shoulders convulse around it with a choked gasp of pain. He glances up at you beneath gingery lashes, so pale you can see the wide, deep blue pools of his irises with eerie ease. Dead-fish blue. You raise your eyebrows. "What're you looking at me like that for?"

He huffs weakly. "I think we both know I have a propensity for a little pain."

"In your family home, Childe? Beneath your blessed mother's roof?" You drag your finger painstakingly down his sternum, over the bandages; you can see the frayed purpling edges of bruising beneath them when they dip beneath your finger, and Childe tenses and groans quietly. He shifts imperceptibly closer to you, and you let your hand drop.

It's too easy. He looks so boyish here. It's honestly throwing you off. You withdraw your hand, aware that something cold must be shuttering over your expression because you see his own one drop in response, brows coming to knit together in a tiny expression of confusion.

"Nah," you say lightly. "Come find me when you're a challenge again. Enjoy the almonds, sweet thing."

Because, yeah—you've never liked anything easy. It's why you carve your way through Teyvat in a bloody railroad, one gang out outlaws at a time. The money you get is only a bonus; your real price, the only one that matters, is torment.

Childe slumps back into his pillows, scrubbing a hand down his face with a wry chuckle. "Ha... might've known. Don't worry, scourge, I won't be such a bitter disappointment for long."

You stand. "I know. Or you're not the guy I thought you were."

It's a month or so before you see him again.

You stick to your word and hang around Snezhnaya, eventually finding some sort of cold, dusky beauty in the frozen plains. The architecture is intricate and colourful, and the people conservatively hostile, which works for you just fine. People were much too friendly in Liyue and Mondstadt; you feel more like you're among your own kind here.

You end up contacting the adventurer's guild and taking on a few bounties, just for enough cash to hold down steady accommodation and food. You don't think too hard on why you're determined to stick around, when flight has always been much more your style. You immerse yourself, for the next few weeks, in wrestling bandits off of trading routes and collecting Hilichurl masks.

It's one evening as you circle a frozen lake, picking off members of a bandit guild that have taken to pickpocketing merchants, that he reappears to you. You're locked in a pretty ugly fight with a monster of an outlaw, taller and thicker than you, when something wet touches your cheek. A flash of water, so hard and sharp as to resemble a glaive, cuts past you and slices through the guy's skin, bearing a spill of scarlet blood. He jumps back with a scream of pain and rage, hefts his rusted ax to take another swing, and you see a flash of ginger and white cut past you.

Childe's water-daggers move so fast that they look like wet blue blurs, making ribbons of the guy's shirt and flesh. Combined with the injuries you'd already imparted upon him, it was no time at all until he dropped to the ground, blood leaking from him to salt the frozen earth. The rest of his guys scarpered pretty quickly.

Childe turned around to face you, a grin on his face. His pupils were slightly dilated—probably sinking his blade into something after so long felt like taking a drink after a stretch of sobriety for someone like him. Not that you could judge; you got antsy, too, when you hadn't fought for a while. Like your hands were filled with too much energy, and if you weren't using them for violence you weren't sure what the point of them was. They became merely many-fingered appendages, attached decoratively to your arms.

"I had him," you mutter, sheathing your swords. Childe bobs on his feet, almost floating with ecstatic energy.

"I know," he says, easily enough that mollifies your bad mood a little. "Just got a little overexcited at being able to fight again. I've missed it more than you can know."

There's blood spattered across his front, a daub across his face and arcing down his pretty dove-grey suit. Here, in the cold of his home nation, he wears a thick fur cloak over his shoulders; it makes him look grander, more impressive. Fatui, indeed.

He catches you looking and his smile gets wider; it barely even resembles a smile anymore, actually, more a baring of teeth. Coupled with the wild eyes, he looked suitably as feral as he is inside. Something deep in your gut twinges at the sight.

"You know, you surprise me," Childe comments, his watery blades dissipating into the air with a flick. "You'll cut your way through a battlefield, but you won't fuck me in my childhood bedroom? Your morals are all over the place, scourge."

"Don't call me that," you say automatically, finding you can barely blink when you look at him. "Fucking freak. You want me to make you cry when your siblings are running over the place?"

"They know not to come into my room," Childe pouts. "Mama doesn't like them to be able to stumble across all my weapons, lest they learn what I truly do for a living. Anyway, that isn't the point. I just can't work you out."

You work your jaw for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. You've never been very good with words—Childe seems to have an endless supply of them, with an uncanny ability to fashion them in any poetic formation he likes. He certainly knows which ones will get under your skin the most, and the pretty way his lips tie up like a bow when he puts emphasis on some of them. You've always been more hands-on. It's no wonder this is what you do for a living, really.

So instead you ask abruptly, "You're all healed up, right?"

Childe tilts his head, looking only mildly surprised. "Fit as a fiddle."

"Show me. You had a pretty nasty bruise on your chest last time I looked." You cross your arms expectantly as Childe blinks, looks around. The landscape around you is assuredly deserted; you're miles and miles from the nearby town. The risk of being stumbled across isn't zero, but it's pretty damn close.

"...Here?" Childe asks.

"Whose morals are all over the place now?" you grumble, indicating the bandit still bleeding out on the floor some feet away. Childe huffs a laugh, escaping him in a frosty white cloud.

"Fair enough. I concede to you, scourge," he sighs, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You try not to look overly-eager, but something in your expression must give you away anyway, because he catches your eye and laughs as though enjoying a private joke. His fingers are deft as they slip buttons through expensive-looking silk, baring the pale slice of his stomach to you.

Around the snow's white glare, he looks paler than ever, skin practically lurid against the waves of dark orange hair and freckles scattering his shoulders. They spiral down his chest, absent of any bandages now, the only remnants of the ugly bruising a slight mauve discolouration crowding around his sternum.

You poke it; not much of Childe is overly soft, save for a small pouch at the bottom of his abdomen. He's all sinewy muscle, oscillating between lean and bulky. The tops of his arms and shoulders are broad, but he whittles down to a small waist and sharp hips, the suggestions of which you can see now with his skin bared: the ghostly impressions of bones, disappearing into his waistband.

"I'm a sight for sore eyes, right?" Childe says, a note of breathlessness in his voice. You hum dispassionately, poking at the remainder of the bruise; it gives like the skin of overripe fruit, smushing beneath your finger, and Childe shivers. "Wish mama let me out of bed earlier. I'd still have a lovely bruise for you to torment."

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" you murmur, and run your tongue over your bottom teeth. "Lie down. I'll bruise you up again."

You follow him down to the ground; when you kneel, the snow starts melting through the fabric of your pants, makes your knees wet and cold. Childe lays on his cloak, looking up at you warily.

"I won't submit so easily this time," he tells you, sticking his chin up. "You'll have to fight me for control."

You shrug as though it doesn't make the slightest bit of difference. "Okay. I'll win."

Childe shivers; you expect that knowing you'll win is half the fun to him. He likes challenging you just to be shot down. You thought, before, that he was simply a masochist. Now you think that being overpowered, specifically, is what gets him off. Not that you care for the psychosexual intricacies of whatever is wrong with him. You just like feeling strong, and he's strangely pretty, and you like taking the will out of pretty things.

Still, he does begin to make good on his promise. His hand knots in the collar of your cape and he pulls you down for a bruising kiss. You realise with a thrill that he tastes sweet and earthy, and that he's been eating the almonds you left him. It's a fucking weird amount of preparedness, and the idea that he'd come here hoping for this... it excites you. You kiss him harder, shoving his shoulders down to the ground and climbing on top of him.

His hand slips under your shirt, fingers spanning over the stretch of your stomach, and you falter just momentarily. He hadn't really touched you at all, last time—your positions are remarkably familiar, but this initiative is different. Last time he had merely enjoyed being overpowered. This time, you think he craves the fight of it. His thumb strokes over the skin of your abdomen, tantalisingly close to your waistband, and you curse the warmth that unfolds in your gut. You can't start feeling good, not yet, not until you have the higher ground over him.

You drag your lips down, pin them against his cheek until you get to the sharp vertice of his jaw; you tongue the underside of it, finding the ridge of his pulse point and dragging your teeth over it, feeling his hand falter and clench involuntarily.

This is how it should be with him—teeth and nails and tongue. The kind of fucking that lovers do is a million miles from this. It's something sort of angry, sort of reverent, like the worship of an evil god.

"You're such a fucking slut," you growl, and you're close enough to his throat to see the way it flexes when he swallows. "You wanted me to fuck you that first day, didn't you? With your poor family on the other side of those walls? Do you give it up that easy for everyone?"

Childe's breathing picks up; beneath your legs, you feel the muscles of his thighs twitch. When he opens his mouth to reply, you jam two fingers between his lips, feeling the inside of his mouth. He makes a choked noise, but his tongue immediately comes up to lap at the pads of your fingers, lips closing around the knuckle.

You sate yourself, taking several deep breaths even though the hot, wet inside of his mouth has your skin tingling. He makes a humming sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through your flesh, and when you press down on his tongue he makes a pretty gagging sound that makes you close your eyes briefly. Fuck, you want to hear it again.

Whilst your distracted, Childe shifts his leg; his knee slots itself between your own, pushing up against you with a suddenness that makes you inhale sharply and grit your teeth. Childe can't exactly smile with your fingers in his mouth, but he makes a smug noise and his eyes flutter with faux-innocence.

With your free hand, you wrestle his thigh from you and pin it to the floor with your knee. Childe is still making obscene noises around your fingers—putting it on, you'd wager. He sounds like the squealing painted girls in brothels, just stifled by the digits down his throat. You glare at him because it's easier than admitting how much it's turning you on.

With your free hand, you fumble for the opening of his trousers, delighting in the way his throat spasms with shock as you open up the slacks. It's tricky work to shuck the fabric down his thighs, and even trickier to restrain yourself when his legs come into view. They're built, stocky, crisscrossed with pale scars and freckles, and the urge to grab and squeeze is actually painful to resist. Instead you focus on the bulge in his dark briefs and the way his skin pebbles in the cold.

You push your fingers down his throat once, further, until he coughs and jerks and then you pull them free. In the cool evening light, they glisten with saliva, rolling down to your wrist. Childe's lips are glossy, eyes glazed over as he watches you; when you squeeze your dry hand over the tent in his underwear, the full force of his moan rips from him, loud and wavering, perhaps unaware that he'd have to stifle himself now without the gag of your fingers.

He flings his spare arm over his face, mortified.

"Cute," you croon, changing tack. "You're so cute like this, Childe. All small under me, yeah?"

"Shut up, scourge," he groans. "You know where I'm not small?"

You pinch his thigh, making it spasm prettily. You watch the red mark bloom up and fade, like a flower's life in fast motion. "I know where I'm not gonna be touching, sure."

Childe cracks open an eye, staring at you. "Huh?"

You shrug. "What'd you think you were getting my fingers wet for? Decoration?"

You can see his eyes widen with the realisation, even as you tug his underwear down along with his trousers. He casts another furtive look around, but there's no real concern in his gaze. In fact, if you had to guess, he looks almost hopeful that someone will stumble across you both like this. Degenerate.

You slip your hand down his stomach, feeling taut muscle and soft flesh, watching as it twitches with each sharp breath. Between his legs, he's half-hard already, and he twitches when you ghost your hand, feather-light over him. His hips cant up, once, as much as they can with you sitting on his thighs.

You bypass his cock, using your knee to knock his legs further apart and reach between his legs. The first light brush of your fingers over his hole has Childe gritting his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek very hard. His eyes burn into you, cold blue fire, when you carefully ease the tip of your index finger inside.

You let out a breath, chest aching. He's hot inside, tight; you feel him trembling against you as you glance up at him. "No shot you're a virgin here," you comment as languidly as possible, as if your heart isn't beating a harsh tattoo against your ribs. "There goes my theory of how you got so high up in the Fatui."

Childe makes a strangled noise that was probably supposed to be a retort. You don't move your finger either way, watching his face closely for signs of honest discomfort or pain. But there's just a concentrated furrow between his brows.

"You want me to go further?" you ask, voice like silk. "You wanna feel me inside?"

He groans, twisting simultaneously to and away from you. "Scourge—"

"Ask nicely, or I'll stop."

He swallows again; his internal conflict with his own pride is tantalising in the way you wish it could be made into something physical, something you could eat.

"Keep going," he pants. He blinks big, round eyes at you, playing the innocent lamb. "Pretty please?"

It should be no dice—you want him to ask as him, to feel the scorch of humiliation, not as some character. But before you realise it, your finger is sinking into the first knuckle, and his head thuds back against the snow with a punched-out gasp.

God, you wish you could fuck him properly. You'd give anything to stretch him out around you, but you don't have any of the tools or supplies you'd need. So your fingers would have to do for now. Your free hand gathers a handful of his ass and gropes, watching the fat bleed between your fingers as he yelps, hips squirming against your hand.

It takes several minutes and a lot more spit to ease another finger inside of him, and his thighs tense at the brush. His hips rock insistently against your hand, groaning behind a bitten lip, and when your fingers finally have enough give to start moving he makes a cut-off strangled sound in the back of his throat.

"Bet I could make you come like this," you mumble, more to yourself than anything else. "Won't even have to touch your pretty cock, will I? Look at it, crying for some attention." You sort of flick it with your spare hand and he makes a sound like he's dying, eyes flying open.

"Scourge, Archons," he curses, dick jumping in interest despite it all. His mouth hangs open, a slack 'O' of over-sensation. "You're so cruel. That hurt."

"That's the point," you mutter. "Otherwise you wouldn't come to me for this, would you?"

Childe squirms, pouts. "Still. I'm but a simple village boy. I'm not built for a beast like you."

You laugh, almost genuine. "'S that what I am? A beast?" Your fingers curl up inside him, brushing against a tough spot that makes him keen against you, hips jerking.

"I—" he pants, lip trembling. "What?"

"Beasts are selfish creatures," you comment. "A beast would never think of letting you come on their fingers. So surely you're confusing me with someone else, yeah?"

"Yeah," he gasps, rocking against your hand. "Scourge, please. You're killing me here."

"I wish. You'd probably be quieter." But you acquiesce, starting a slow rhythm of your fingers in and out of him. You're slow, working them up to the second knuckle, trying not to shiver at the heat inside of him. When you curl your fingers up against that spot, he keens like a dying dog, thighs clamping around your body slotted between them. It's... a pretty sight, you think. You've never been averse to admitting that he's handsome. You've always had an affinity for breaking pretty things.

It's part of the game, you think.

You move inside him like you're ringing a bell, and Childe's breathing starts coming in short, sharp bursts as he writhes against your hand. After not too long at all his witty remarks trail off into bitten-off grunts and moans, twisting his head into the snow in some effort to try and hide them. With your free hand, you curl your fingers in his hair and yank, feeling the feathery red strands go taut against your digits.

"Don't hide from me, sweet thing," you croon, and Childe shuts his eyes as though praying for patience; his cheeks are bright red, making his freckles more lurid. He shudders and gasps when you yank his hair, body arching so much that he lifts off the floor. You take the opportunity to painstakingly work in a third finger. He shudders at the stretch, the inevitable burn, so you try to distract him. You push his shirt away from the rest of his torso, finding the nipple with a healed slash through it and rolling it between your fingers.

Childe shudders; he looks strangely young in this moment, the age he truly is—what, twenty-five? Barely that? He's flushed down to the chest, stomach convulsing under the comparatively soft gestures. You stroke and pinch him until his hips push tentatively back at your hand again—signalling, in his way, consent for continuation.

You tut. "So greedy. Did you forget anyone could walk across us?" you ask, and Childe makes a broken-off groan. "Maybe you want that? How long do you think it would take the talk to get back to the Fatui, hm? Nobody would ever take you seriously again. Some warmonger you turned out to be, writhing in the snow like a helpless animal, about to come on my hand."

Childe gasps, nodding frantically. "Yes—yes—"

"Yes, you're going to come?" You can't help the wicked smile that spreads over your face, like an infection, like a blight, like something that doesn't look at home.

"Yes, Archons, scourge," he wails pitifully. You get the feeling his body would be spasming if you weren't pinning half of it down. He's bright red against the plains of snow, lips bitten red, eyes barely able to stay open. One of his hands wrapped around your wrists, dragged your hand to his cock; it looked painful now, weeping pre from the tip. "Touch me here."

You roll your eyes. "Why should I?"

"Please," he whines, blinking up at you. "I'm sorry for being annoying earlier. I just wanted you to..."

"I know what you wanted. I'm not in the habit of rewarding brats," you say, but your eyes are glued to where he's put your hand. You haven't moved it, yet. He's hot and hard and wet under your palm, twitching to life when your fingers brush over the burning skin. He makes a wavery, sort of sobbing noise when you don't make any move, hips jerking pathetically for some kind of friction.

"For fuck's sake," you mutter, making your hand into a loose fist and wrapping your fingers around him. His jaw hangs open, eyes rolling back as his pale lashes flutter, and you stroke him quickly in time with your fingers moving in, out, the pace brutal and punishing—exactly how he likes it, and exactly how you like it. Every breath punched from his chest is a moan, hoarse and desperate. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, and you realise he's torn the inside of his cheek to shreds with his teeth trying to be quiet.

It's thrilling, that he'd bloody himself just to try and get under your skin, and that he'd fail anyway. He's pretty like this. And close, you can tell by the way his muscles go tense, moving under pale skin like liquid. His throat is bared for you, head thrown back and he's uttering strings of unintelligible curses under his breath. Fuckohfuckpleasepleasescourgepleaseithurtsplease—

"Come on, Childe," you murmur, leaning in close, mouthing over his pulse point and feeling it jackrabbit against. "Make a mess for me."

With a few hoarse, desperate noises, a strangled "Fuck, fuck—" his body convulses beneath you, eyes squinching shut; his insides clamp around your fingers, spend spilling across your hands and his stomach in pearly arcs, hot and wet and pretty disgusting. You ease your fingers out of him as quickly and carefully as possible, not wanting to linger for the aftershocks.

He's limp like a dead fish beneath you, chest expanding, collapsing, over and over like a supernova as he struggles for breath. He looks physically winded, dazed like someone's beat the shit out of him. You take the opportunity to tuck him away and tug at his underwear and trousers, yanking them back up his thighs.

He mumbles something incoherently, sluggishly lifts his hips to assist you. After you button him back up he makes an effort to prop himself up on his elbows, looking up at you blearily.

"You didn't bite me this time," he says, sounding almost rueful. Your eyes dart to the healing ring of teeth at the junction of his shoulder, a mass of blunt scars coiled in a half-wreath. You pang at the thought that one day it might be replaced entirely by new, smooth skin, unmarred, unmarked.

You swallow. "There's still time."

"Nah. Moment's passed." He sighs, shaky fingers working at his shirt. "You'll have to do something worse next time."

Your mouth quirks into a smile before you can stop it. "Next time, huh?"

"I certainly hope so." He cocks his head, blue eyes catching the light briefly, the way they so often miss it. Like something inside it is permanently dampening it. "I'm only getting stronger, y'know. You'll have to fight me even harder for it next time. Or maybe I'll be the one telling you what to do."

"When hell freezes over, maybe," you say. The both of you cast a look around at the frozen wasteland around you and crack up laughing; it reminds you of the seldom times you'd spend together in taverns in Liyue, scarily normal for once.

"Well, I'll count the days," he hums, getting to his feet properly. His legs tremble a little, but he still offers you a hand. You take it. Maybe because it doesn't feel like it's accepting help, from someone so provably weaker.

Some feet away, the bandit's blood has turned the snow bright red.

#🫀.scribes #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #childe smut #tartaglia smut #ajax smut #genshin x reader #genshin x dom!reader #genshin x gn!reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x dom!reader #childe x dom!reader #sub!childe #sub!tartaglia

226 notes · View notes

rubydart · 1 year ago

Text

I had a big need for a fandom butterfly/moth display. Updated with an ID: Art drawn to look like a Fictional Moth/Butterfly display case based on 4 characters from The Magnus Archives on a 8.5x11" print. Big bug center top is labeled as "J. Sims": big green Luna Moth with multiple prominent eyes a bit like an Emperor Moth's markings, and holes in the wings that mimic the holes in a cassette tape. There's an eye on the mid of its body. The markings are more fantastical than the other bugs.

Labeled "M. Blackwood": Silver Clouded moth, smaller, to the right of J. Sims, with a cloudy looking pattern in greys on the wings, and two small dots.

Labeled "N. Sasha": Center-left. A blue butterfly but with markings that look like eyes and possibly claws extending across the top pair of wings. The wings are lined with black and white markings that resemble piano-keys. The lower pair of wings have golden markings that is supposed to resemble calliope pipes.

Labeled "Tim": Takes up the lower right side. A Mourning Cloak butterfly but with orange markings inside the wings that resemble flames. Mainly red wings lined with black then yellow edges, with blue spots across the black.

They are on a board with a spider web stretched across underneath them. The black tape of a cassette tape ribbons around the board in loose loops.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #not sasha #timothy stoker #I'm so sorry Sasha #btw the Rebel's Large Blue butterfly caterpillar mimics ant queen sounds and smells so they are taken to the ant's nest as a brood parasite #moth fanart #tma as moths

787 notes · View notes

amarynthian-chronicles · 2 months ago

Text

Spider demon Sun, cradling Y/N in his arms, carrying them away: my enchanted aurora, awaken, bless me with your gaze, allow me to steal you from the land of dreams for a fleeting moment. Sweet mate, do open your eyes, we have a surprise for you!

Y/N, groaning sleepily and yawning: Where are you taking me? It is too early for me to wake up.

Sun, leaning down to gently kiss their neck and whisper: Happy birthday, joy of my life, laughter of my soul. Moonie and I have lovely gifts for you.

Y/N, opening their eyes, warmth in their cheeks: my, how time flies with you two. There really was no need for the trouble, your mere presence is the true gift. You two make me so happy.

Sun, bringing Y/N to the mansion's underground chambers, grinning as they eyed the magnificent garments prepared for them: The one on the left is from me. I had produced the finest golden silk for my sweetheart, each fibre whispering of my love for you, each thread of this web echoing with the sighs I had made as I thought of you. My aurora, by day you shall wear the colours of dawn and hope.

Spider demon Moon, appearing from the shadows, reaching to kiss Y/N's hand, gently teasing their sensitive wrist: Too stunned to speak, pretty butterfly? Observe my gift on the right side, a gown of midnight majesty. I had whispered to the stars to ask for your fortune, placing all of their predictions into these silver threads, weaving the patterns of constellations upon silk of finest deep blue. Each thread echoes with the lullabies I had sung for you.

Y/N, speechless: my dearest ones, you are going to make me cry. Wait here, both of you, I actually also have something for you. It may not be perfect, but I am still learning. I will be right back!

A few minutes later

Y/N, returning, offering silken red ribbons with golden bells: You two had changed my life so much and I wish to give something in return, as well. I began to learn your craft and I made these for you. I am sorry if they are not perfect. Here, if you allow me...

Sun and Moon, breathless as they watched Y/N tie the ribbons into perfect bows around their wrists:..

Y/N, smiling gently: now, let's go enjoy the birthday cake together.

#this is a bit of a loose sequel to silken chains and nerves of steel #spider sun #spider moon #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #sundrop #moondrop #five nights at freddy's #the daycare attendant #daycare attendant x reader #fnaf sun x reader #fnaf moon x reader #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #daycare attendant #amary's chronicles

111 notes · View notes

the-faceless-bride · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty piggy in a cage...

Summary➡ Being Asa's newest and precious little butterfly, he feels the need to show his good friend Jesse... Only things quickly backfire as Jesse takes interest in his friend's little piggy...

Tags: @gothmothsiren @frostbitefae @wallywaffle @brwnicons

Warnings: Dark Content, sexual implications, Objectification, infantilization, marking, forced touching, forced kissing, body horror, some violence to reader, kidnapping, name calling, mentions of cannibalism, attempts of escape, Starvation, reader is described as having long hair at least shoulder length

You put yourself in his box. You had nothing left, nothing but the money you had saved, the clothes on your back, and those sweet eyes the strange Masked man seemed to enjoy so much.

You have never seen his face, and you honestly didn't care. All you knew was when he saw you he held your face in such a gentle manner, his gloved hand was gentle and held you softer than anyone ever had. His blacked-out eyes just stared into yours with such an enamored and curious look like you were the only thing in this world he wanted.

So when he picked you up and tried to lower you into the red box you didn't struggle, you tucked yourself into the box curling into yourself as much as you could to fit as comfortably as you could.

He seemed to enjoy that, he patted your head before stroking down to your cheek before slowly closing the box.

And once the box reopened, he held your shoulder moving you around the broken-down building that looked like it used to be a hotel.

The art around the building was... Interesting, the more you looked at it the more the stranger rubbed your shoulder. And once he lead you through a hall full of pounding locked doors, yelling, and people in cages the stranger held you to his chest.

He brought you into a bathroom and sat you on the plush pink stool. He picked up a soft-bristled brush and carefully brushed your hair, you sat there for a long time before he stopped and moved to open a wooden box painted with butterflies and lined with gems, pulling out pink and blue ribbons, sectioning your hair before trying the ribbons, looking at you in the mirror before reaching back into the wooden box and pulling out a gloss; squishing your cheeks making your lips pucker before smearing the glittery pink gloss across your lips.

He admired you for a moment before pulling a knife from a holder on his waist and using it to slice down your clothes, your shirt was first; he pulled the shirt off your shoulders from your front your best exposed to the cold air, you closed your eyes feeling the strangers gloved hands felt below your chest and felt around your ribs before moving to your hips and ripping your pants.

The strange man put you in a soft white dress, it fell to your knees in layers, a silk ribbon in the middle of your chest, soft long puffed sleeves felt smooth along your arms.

You hang your head as he presses what you think is a kiss you the side of your temple, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back and leading you through the building, he had to guide you around to not step in a trap or get glass stuck in your bare foot.

He picked you up, carrying you up the long flights of stairs before opening a heavily bolted metal door that had hanging flowers around the door; some were dead, and others seemed fake.

Upon entering the room, a large bed covered in ruffled sheets and fluffy pillows, a sheer curtain of some kind hung around the tall wooden frames around the bed. A pink fluffy carpet was placed on the oddly clean floor, the vanity mirror had a single crack running through it, and the large dresser doors were open exposing the hanging frilly dresses similar to the one you were currently wearing.

You're his butterfly; the pretty little thing he likes to observe and touches with such soft hands, showed off to the others who could only wish not to be in chains like you, to be able to wander around, to be able to speak without being beaten.

One day he seemed extra touchy with you, he put in extra effort to make you look the way he wanted perfect you didn't know what you had done to deserve the extra treatment but it was better than what anyone else was getting in this depressing hotel.

He braided your hair; intricately placing flowers in it, he put you in a bodysuit made of silk that showed more of your chest, around your waist he tied a wispy skirt that reached the floor; it was slightly sheer and also had flowers embroidered giving it a very whimsical look, finally, he actually put you in shoes; they seemed like warn down ballerina shoes, elegant and gold the flowers were delicate.

After giving you one last look before running a hand down your neck moving in close and pressing his masked nose to your hair taking a long breath.

He placed you back in your room, sitting you down on the fluffy rug and making a 'stay' motion before leaving the room; you didn't know how long he was gone for, but when he came back he wasn't alone...

A man walked in with him, he was tall very tall...strong and wore a sharp black suit, and a chrome skull mask.

The chrome stranger looked to the man who kept you in this room, getting a single nod from your kidnapper and he started moving towards you; you whimpered and slightly moved back, but when the black-masked man hushed you and the chrome stranger reached out to you, his hand ghosting over your braided hair moving to brush a finger under your eyelids and moving to your neck giving a small squeeze before continuing his journey, gloved hand moving down your chest across your stomach to your legs squeezing your inner thigh.

He was inspecting you...

He caught you by surprise when he lifted his finger to your nose and gave it a little flick before teasingly pitching your cheek.

What a pretty little piggy. What a Fine Catch Asa Found; Jesse thought. Looking up at him with those sweet pretty eyes of yours. Almost tempted to think of you as less of a piggy and more of a doe... A sweet fawn. Jesse stopped squeezing your cheek and moved behind you leaning to push his mask against your soft hair. What a sweet thing.

Asa and Jesse both take one of your hands and take you out into a separate area you've never been to before. The room had two comfy-looking chairs, plane walls, and a small fluffy 'rug' just to the right of one of the chairs, the room also had something you found interesting. It had camera monitors, and you really wish you could just look away.

The horrors of what you saw.

You knew to some degree that there were poor souls in this place and that something terrible was happening to them. But you couldn't imagine what was on the screens. Rows and rows of people that... Weren't even people anymore... Monsters. Real-life horror movie monsters. Body's mutilated some with multiple limbs, some blind, some with jaws broken and modified to be long and odd-shaped, some of them seemed to be in a room with other monsters and they were... Eating each other.. God. What is this place? Why? Why was this something that never crossed your mind before.? Was... Was this going to happen to you?... Was this his plan? Will this happen to you when he gets bored of you?!

You slowly sat on the small rug where you were told, your eyes never leaving the monsters on the screen.

The two masked men were signing at each other, communicating about something. You couldn't understand them, but you truly couldn't care.

And you felt an itch. An itch to run. An itch to get away. Not wanting to be the next monster...

You would've been fine... You could've ignored the itch... If it wasn't for that one moment. Where one of the monsters that was cannibalizing the other turned. And look right into the camera.... Right.

At.

You.

And you ran. And you seemed to catch both men off guard. As they had yet to catch you.

That monster... That thing...

The blood fell from its odd crooked mouth. It's red bloodshot eyes staring at you.

And it only got worse.

Along the walls of the hotel, bodies ripped open. Displayed like art. No. No. No. Please. You don't want this. You just wanted to be taken away from the mean world. And now you were stuck in an even crueler one.

Loud footsteps could be heard down the halls, you look and your eyes meet the ones of the masked man. The one who took you... The Master...

You started hyperventilating as you tripped over your own feet. One of your feet getting locked in a trap. You let out a yelp of pain. Almost sounding like a kicked puppy, as you fell to the hard cold ground.

You try and yank your foot out, but that only makes the trap worse. Making you cry out. The skull masked on being the tallest and taking the longest strides gets to you first. Shaking his head and wagging his finger at you in a moving way, before giving you a little tap, bad.

You shink in on yourself. "please. Don't let the monsters get me. Don't let me be one of them..." You whimper into his shoulder. he brushes your hair from your face. And uses his loose hand to unlock the trap.

Asa truly was a lucky man. A lucky man indeed... He wouldn't mind if he... Borrowed you... For a while would he? Of course not. What else are friends for? Right?

695 notes · View notes

theelvisprincess · 10 days ago

Text

A Woman

Warning- 18+

Butterflies aggressively swirl around in your stomach as you impatiently wait in the master bedroom for Elvis to come home from filming his upcoming movie. Nervously chewing on your bottom lip- you anxiously look at the clock that is situated right on top of the lavish white dresser he had recently bought just because you had looked at it more than once in the store. Sitting on the edge of the king sized bed- you take a deep breath. Your diamond necklace grazes your skin as your chest fills with air- the gentle scent of the room fills your nostrils as you begin to run the pads of your fingers throughout your hair. You're finally gonna do it. You're going to ask him to make you a woman. While he was away- you talked to his friends' wives- all of them gasping in shock when you explained how you were indeed still a virgin. You didn’t know how to take their reaction but they did in fact tell you to tell him you were ready. ‘’Maybe he’s waiting for you to beg for it!’’ One of the wives declared waving her cigarette a little too close to your face- making you harshly cough.

It has been three long days since the interaction and it’s been eating you alive. Thinking of how and what to tell him was what kept you up late at night. What pushed you to want to ask him however wasn't from what that wife said- it was Red’s wife's statement that really got inside your head.

‘’He’s probably getting that kinda love somewhere else if he ain’t asking you for it, sweetheart.’’ She stoically stated as she peered at her tacky blue colored nails.

Your face conorts in uncertainty as you recall the memory. Looking around the newly decorated room- you rub your toes nervously in the soft fluffy throw rug underneath you. Your heart soon drops to the depths of your stomach as you hear the familiar voices of Elvis’ men chattering loudly from the open window next to the television. Quickly shooting up from the bed- you head over to the window peering down to observe the group greeting their wives and girlfriends. Running your hands over your white dress to diminish any wrinkles- you anxiously note Elvis is nowhere to be seen. ‘’1... 2….3…4.’’ You softly count the cars parked right out front- eyebrows scrunching together as you realize the car he took is parked right there amongst the others.

Gasping loudly- you shoot your hands up to grab hold of the much larger ones that are cupping your eyes that are blocking your vision. The smell. The oh so familiar scent of his cologne causes you to sigh in relief. ‘’Keep your pretty little eyes shut when I take my hands off, baby. I-I got a little something for ya.’’ Elvis peers down as he admires your petite body next to his. He hasn’t seen you in two full weeks and the women over in Hollywood were a lot different from you- they were experienced- not just willing but able and here you were safely tucked away in his beloved home. Staying the innocent little doll he wants to keep you. That did nothing but make his heart swell with pride as he lovingly gazes at your beautiful face. Biting his bottom lip he slowly brings his hands down- he alone walks steadily over to the bed where he carefully placed the gift he had thoroughly picked out for you- toying with the ribbon one last time to make sure it was perfect for you. Excitement bubbles up inside of you- not only for the gift but just the fact you get to see him after being away from each other for what seemed like an eternity..

Walking over to you- he gently grabs hold of your shoulders turning you around to slowly walk you towards the edge of the bed. ‘’Being away so long- I forget how damn pretty ya are.’’ He warmly states near your ear as he brings you right in front of the present. ‘’Okay, pretty. Open your eyes.’’ Shooting your eyes open- you quickly close them once again from how bright the room currently is. Slowly opening this time to adjust to the light- your mascara covered eyes widen as soon as you realize what he bought you. ‘’I- Elvis… this is too expensive I-’’ Stopping your sentence in shock you tear your eyes away from the gift to gaze up at him. Taking in his glistening blue eyes- luscious plump lips- and perfect face- you audibly sigh. Burying the side of your face into his chest you tear your eyes away from him to look back at the sparkling diamond wrist watch. ‘’You have to stop buying me stuff but- I-I love it. I’ve been looking at magazines with this exact watch but it- it’s so expensive.’’ You bring your hand down to pick the box that was popped open to display the beautiful watch.

Elvis watches as your eyes begin to twinkle while looking at his gift. ‘’It’s gonna look perfect on your wrist, honey. Don’t worry your little head about the expenses jus enjoy the gift, hm? A little birdie tol’ me you had taken a liking to this watch.’’ A smile overtakes your expression as you once again tear your eyes away from the watch and back to peer up at him through squinted eyes. ‘’A little birdie?’’ You giggle out as you watch him bring his hand up to playfully zip his mouth and throw the key.

‘’I love it, thank you very much.’’ You wholeheartedly say as you place the watch carefully on the bed- turning your body to fully face him. He shoots you a sly grin as he wraps his arms around your little body- pulling you gently into his front. Your hands snake up to wrap around his neck to bring him down so his plump lips can finally crash onto yours. He groans into the kiss from how long it’s been since he’s tasted your sweet lips- deepening the kiss. The taste of mint and tobacco fills your mouth as you lovingly graze your tongue on top of the tip of his. Pulling away- anxiety pools in your stomach as you look up at him. His eyebrows immediately furrow as he takes in your sudden change of demeanor. ‘’What’s the matter, honey?’’ Damn him and his unworldly intuition.

‘’I-I have-’’ Pausing you look away from the older man. Closing your eyes you try and build up the courage for the nerve wracking statement to finally spill past your lips. You then come up with an idea- maybe not the best but it might work. Going on your tippy toes- you grab hold of his neck once more- desperately bringing him down to once again crash your lips onto his. Taken back from the heated kiss- he groans once again in your mouth. His hands trail from your waist to rest firmly on your hips. You swiftly run your hand down from his neck to his black dress shirt- slowly unbuttoning it as you continue kissing his pillowy lips. You then bring your leg somewhat up to rub your thigh on his linen covered bulge

Pulling abruptly away- he furrows his eyebrows as he shoots you a look of disapproval. ‘’What the hell has gotten into ya?’’ His right hand goes down to roughly take hold of your delicate wrist- stopping your movements. You gasp lightly at the piercing gaze and the strong grip that’s now wrapped around you. ‘’Y-your hurting me- please stop-’’ Tears start to build in your eyes as you feel his grasp tighten.

‘’Nah, you're hurtin’ me. I was thrilled to come home to a patient, innocent, little girl who’s thankful for her thoughtful gift n’ all I got in return was some needy little slut.’’ The tears that blurred your vision now spilling down your rosy cheeks as you take in his harsh tone and anger filled gaze. One thing you didn’t take into consideration before acting out on your little plan, was how fast he can flip on a dime. ‘’Is that what ya want? Ya want to be treated like some cheap hooker?’’ A sob escapes from your lips as you quickly shake your head. The way he’s looking at you is making you feel so small which only adds to the hurtful pang you feel in your rapidly beating heart. ‘’I-I m’ sorry- d-don’t. I just wanted you to finally make me a woman, y-your woman.’’ You get out between sobs as you look down from his heated gaze to your freshly polished toes being engulfed by the rug. ‘’Some wives told me t-to ask you.’’ You admit half truthfully knowing damn well you wanted it more than anything.

Silence. Something you never wanted to hear when talking to Elvis Presley. Your heart drops to your stomach once again- just this time it was a million times more intense.

He couldn’t believe it. His sweet angel asking him to do something so wrong. He looks over your puffy face- mascara already staining your rosy cheeks as your lips part for air from in between soft sobs. ‘’You want me to treat ya how Red n’ ole Joe treat their little wives, huh? …Get on your knees.’’ You gasp softly hearing his command. A mix of excitement and uncertainty shooting throughout your body as you look up into his hard to read eyes. Your knees beck at his words- the softness of the rug grazes your smooth leg as you crane your neck to look up at him towering over you. He lets go of your wrist and goes to slowly unzip his pants- cock springing out from the lack of underwear. A jolt of electricity shoots down to your special parts as you take in his size. His hand firmly wraps around himself- pumping it a few times making his length grow more than what it was before. ‘’Elvis what d-do I-’’

‘’Ah shut up.’’ He grumbles harshly as he takes in your whore of a state.. He never in a million years thought he was going to be treating you this way but with stress from his stupid movies and the way you had eagerly asked for him to make you a woman- it lit a fire of anger inside him. Everyone seems to be telling him what to do recently and that is something that he absolutely despises- even his angel of a fiance was now demanding stuff from him. ‘’Open your mouth, little girl. Let me finally put it to good use.’’ Obeying in an instant- you peer up through blurred vision as you feel his tip graze your tongue. Elvis brings his free hand to firmly slide into the back of your silky hair just in case you try to pull away from him. ‘’That’s a good girl.’’ He praises as he watches you wrap your small mouth around his swollen tip. Precum is already leaking onto your tongue as he pushes himself deeper into your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for your hands to shoot up to firmly push against his thighs and for you to gag loudly around him from the sheer size of his length. Groaning deeply- he pulls back just a little already loving the feeling of your mouth. It was so much softer than all the other girls' mouths for reasons he can’t explain- and your saliva was coating his cock just the way he likes. ‘’It’s like ya were made for this- don try n’ fight it, baby. Besides- ain’t this whatcha wanted?’’ He teasingly states- his chuckle soon turning to a deep groan as he feels your head move to nod- this only making his length wiggle down to your tight throat.

‘’S-shit.’’ Elvis hisses as he pulls himself back- only to forcefully push himself back in. Your eyes screw shut as the feeling becomes too much. You try to pull back, your lack of oxygen concerning you. ‘’Hell.’’ He grunts disappointingly even though he loves you being inexperienced more than he’ll ever admit. ‘’I can’t b-breath when you do it like that.’’ You innocently huff out as you catch your breath. Your hands still firmly resting on each thigh as you look up at him.

‘’Honey, you’ve been at it for less than a minute.’’ You bite your lower lip as you hear the upset tone he speaks down at you in. The fluff of the carpet now filling hard due to you sinking deeper onto your knees. ‘’Can we do something else?’’ The hopefulness in your voice was enough to make him chuckle. Putting his hands on his hips he looks down at you then back at his very much erect length, giving you that mischievous smile with an unreadable sparkle twinkling in his eyes. ‘’Gimme your hand.’’ His hand goes down from his hip and wraps gently around your much smaller one. You watch as he steadily brings it onto his length, both yours and his wrapping firmly around him. His hips stutter as he feels your freshly done fingernail graze the bottom of his tip. He guides your hand up and down his length with his own, loving the complete blush that covers your pretty face. ‘’Open your mouth.’’ His voice seems to have a deep rasp you’ve never heard coming from him before.

You obey immediately. Your tongue sticking out as you wait for him to move you closer- what you didn’t expect however, was him leaning down- lifting your chin with his other hand. That’s when you watch as a string of saliva from his mouth swiftly goes into yours. You don’t understand why your panties are starting to feel messy or why your hand that’s wrapped around him speeds up from him doing that but it does. You moan slightly as you taste him in your mouth, he lets go of your chin to now tower above you. He never thought he was going to treat you with such vulgarity but it’s turning him on more than doing it to any bitch back in Hollywood. ‘’Now, use that to get my tip nice n’ wet, baby.’’ You nod eagerly as you practically lurch forward and spill whatever he put in your mouth to now generously coat his weeping tip. The deep groan that comes from him sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve never made him make a noise like that before- it motivates you to want to hear it again. Your thighs squeeze together for some friction as you feel some of your mixed saliva from his length spill down your chin.

‘’Goddamnit- sucha dirty little girl.’’ He practically growls as you work your hands up and down his hard length- his own hand having moved away a while ago. Your mouth sucking just the tip just like he told you to do. His head drops back as he stares at the ceiling- the mirror barely reaches the two of you that’s hovering over the bed giving him the most sinful view. He watches as your tongue kitten licks his tip and then how you slowly take him back into your mouth. You feel him twitch in your hand making you moan around him. ‘’Shit-’’ He hisses through gritted teeth once again as he feels the vibrations from your moan shoot up his spine. Elvis' head drops down- he returns looking at you as he pleads. ‘’Ah shit baby…stop… you.. wait-’’ You’ve never felt more powerful in your little life. This man, this man that you’ve always seen so put together- crumbling before your eyes in ways you never knew were imaginable.

You feel his hips once again stutter against your tightly gripped hand- his length twitching almost throbbing against your lips. You peer up at him through glossed eyes- the view is something you’ll never forget. You look into his lustful, glossy eyes- his lips are parted as if he’s trying to continue to speak but the words aren’t coming out.

This only motivates you to keep up your movements as you once again squeeze your thighs together. ‘’Wait, honey-’’ He once again tries to say but it comes out weak. Your eyebrows scrunch together as you look up at him- not knowing why he’s telling to wait or stop your actions. ‘’Ah fuck.’’ He groans loudly as he fills his orgasm take over- his hand that has wandered onto the back of your silky hair, tightening. Your eyes widen as you begin to taste something completely foreign shoot inside your mouth. You pull back- swallowing some and the rest dripping down your chin- you gasp while gazing at the tip as you see some shoot out and land directly on your cheek.

Groaning one last time he fully takes you in. Your look of astonishment makes him let out an airy chuckle, his laugh doing that hiccup thing you love so much. ‘’Honey- I tol’ you to stop.’’ He teases as his hands go down to swipe some of the cum off of your chin, to wipe on his shirt. He’s feeling somewhat bad but he can’t help admire the seed planted on your cheek. ‘’How’s it taste, pretty?’’ Your face relaxes into a grin and you nod a tiny bit. ‘’It kinda tastes good, I just- wasn’t expecting t-that.’’ His mischievous grin disappears and is replaced with a stern look. ‘’Here.’’ He once again gathers some from your chin but this time brings it up to your lips instead. ‘’This right here- is the only thing that could ever make ya a woman.’’ Your doe eyes look at the white coated finger, it moving forward to gently enter your warm mouth. You moan around his finger making his eyes squint at you. He pulls his finger out once he feels that you’ve licked it clean. ‘’Am I a woman now?’’ Your hopeful question makes him stop his squinting.

Both hands rise to firmly rest on his hips. Shaking his head down at you, your heart drops. ‘’Nope. And I ain’t making you a woman any time soon, is that understood? Ask again n’ you’ll regret it.’’

His eyes pierce sharply down into yours as he towers above you. The position you're in correlates exactly with how he’s making you feel inside. You watch as he tucks himself back into his slacks. You nervously nod as he wipes the remaining cum from your cheek. Tears begin to fill your eyes as you realize your plan has failed. Not only did it fail but you can’t help but feel you’ve disappointed the one person who takes good care of you. ‘’Poor thing. Ain’t nothing ta cry over.. Stand up, honey.’’ You lift yourself up off the ground- the height between the two of you is still significant. He pulls you in gently, the smell of him surrounds you as you cling to him. He hums softly as he holds you close to his chest. Your head being completely engulfed by him. Sure he feels a little bad, for your his baby- but he just doesn't want you to be brought into that just yet. Shushing you gently he sways your little body against his. He needs to deal with who made his pretty little thing all worked up over this.

‘’Now, you're gonna tell me the names of the woman who tol’ you to do that...’’ You stiffen against him as you hear that oh so familiar baritone in his voice- the vibrations from it rumbling against your head. You once again chew on your bottom lip as you think back, the tears that have spilled from your eyes making his black button up all damp against your temple as you look out the window- feeling somewhat bad that you're going to have to rat them out- knowing damn well they’re going to get told off… maybe worse.

‘’Shut that pretty little head off n’ jus’ tell me, honey.’’

Watching the tree gently sway from the swift autumn breeze outside, you take in the calm before the storm. He’s about to turn the whole place upside down once he finds out who told you to do things you shouldn't have… he has before.

‘’Let daddy take care of everything.’'

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

UHHH THIS WAS eh compared to my others... but I wanted to post so ya'll know I'm still here!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you for reading lovelies, I have other ideas so stay tuned. I wrote this today so it's rushed but LOVE YA'LL....hope it made sense!!! Elvis loves his innocent babyyy

taglist: @elviswhore69 @jhoneybees @atleastpleasetelephone @hooked-on-elvis @eptodaytommorowforever

@lustnhim @sissylittlefeather @elvisslut @elvisvideos @iloveelvisss

@from-memphis-with-love @elvispresley1956

82 notes · View notes

snowyquokka · 8 months ago

Note

Hi gorgeous 💞

I honestly love you work, thank you so much ❤️

If it's not too much to ask but my birthday is on 14th March so can you write a hyunjin x f reader smut +fluff with him giving reader his birthday gift for her (surprise me with your writing)?

I would really appreciate it 🥺

Bye 👋

SYMPHONIES

cw: mature content MDNI, fem reader, oral *f receiving, swearing, friends to lovers, no aftercare shown but is implied

wc: 1.3k

a.n - happy birthday beautiful!! i hope this was a good enough present <3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

12:00 AM

Tons of DMs, calls and texts erupt on your phone simultaneously, wishing you a happy birthday. Everyone but the one you wanted most.

Is it wrong to be in love with your best friend since the sixth grade? To a normal person, maybe, but to you it’s the reality you’re forced to live.

4:00 AM

Did he forget? You can’t blame him; he is an idol after all and he’s probably exhausted. At this point the group chat you are in with all the guys is blowing up to the point where you had to silence it once you realized that Hyunjin wasn’t responding or jumping in the conversation.

CHILDREN OF CHAN

|lixie - happy birthday cutie

|hanji - HAPPY BIRTHDAY

|hanji - get ready to party bitch. it’s on

|seungmo - im not getting stuck with han’s shitfaced ass this time

|minhoe - it’s only like one in the morning and you’re already plotting?

|innie - felix get back on league

|channie - im trying to sleep

|seungmo - put your phone on silent then old man

|seungmo - nvm you probably dont know how at ur jurassic age

You let out a small laugh and bite your lip, contemplating if you should thank them or not. Ultimately deciding against it and telling yourself that you’ll do it when you wake up, you turn off your phone and roll over onto your side, soundlessly falling asleep.

10:00 AM

There’s a knock at the door, startling you out of yet another poor attempt at sleeping. You hop out of bed sluggishly and make your way to the living room. To your surprise, Hyunjin is leaning against the doorway, having let himself in with the emergency key you gave him when you first moved in.

“Just in case,” He insisted, “What if something happens and you need me? Or vice versa.” The fact that you believed that would be the only scenario he used it for seemed a bit foolish as he visited more and more.

You spot a somewhat large box, royal blue with a red ribbon on top, in Hyunjin’s hands. He smiles and pushes off the doorway. “I’m sorry to intrude like that, you weren’t answering your phone.” He says when he reaches you.

You shrug, “It’s okay. I was only sleeping.” Hyunjin nods and places the box in your hands with a sly grin, “Open,” He gestures towards the box. You move to the couch and take the lid off the box. The first thing on top is your very own Jiniret. “So you stop kidnapping my child,” Hyunjin laughs and slides onto the couch next to you. The next thing you pull out is an all black hoodie and when you turn it around you see Hyunjin’s name on the back. The small gesture shouldn’t cause butterflies to emerge in your stomach, but it does to your dismay.

You take out the rest of the stuff (a few small fake plants, Versace perfume that you scold him for buying for you, and a couple of his PCs sprinkled in between everything). You finally reach the bottom and furrow your eyebrows when you pull out a blindfold. You look at Hyunjin whose expression has morphed into something mischievous. He moves the box out of your lap and takes the blindfold out of your hands before tying it around your head, obstructing your vision.

“C’mon, stand up.” You do and Hyunjin slides his hand in yours, guiding you somewhere.

After a few moments you assume you’ve reached your bedroom, the smell of your favorite candle filling the air. The door clicks behind you and now you’re hyper aware of Hyunjin’s presence.

“Why are we in my room, Jin?” Instead of answering you, he runs his fingers delicately down your bare forearms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

“I think we can both agree that we have more than just a normal friendship, don’t you think?” Hyunjin’s voice has noticeably dropped, causing shivers to wrack your body. Your heartbeat quickens so much that you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. “I asked you a question, baby.”

Are you dreaming? You must be dreaming. There is absolutely no way you aren’t. He would never say anything like this. Right? Right. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Hyunjin places his hands on your hips and presses you flush against his body.

Maybe you aren’t dreaming, judging by the very real, sizable erection digging into your stomach. “Hyunjin I-” You aren’t too sure what to say except to agree with him. He walks you back to the bed and gently lets you down, climbing over you soon after.

“Are you sure?” You know for sure that he would never lie about something like this, especially with you. You’re asking yourself more than you are him.

He toys with the hem of your shirt, “May I?” You nod and raise your arms as he lifts it over your head before immediately attaching his lips to your neck. Hyunjin nips at your shoulder and collar bone before making his way down to your breasts. “Do you want this?”

“Yes, please.” You whine. He unclasps your bra and throws it somewhere. His mouth attacks your right breast, his other hand massaging the other. Your back arches in pleasure and you can’t help but let out a groan. How can’t you when Hwang fucking Hyunjin has his pretty pink lips wrapped around your nipple.

“Fuck, baby. You make the sexiest sounds.” Hyunjin drops to his knees, pulling your shorts and panties down with him. His mouth waters at the sight of his index finger being swallowed whole by your tight heat.

“Holy shit,” You say breathlessly. You raise your hands to take the blindfold but he stops you.

“Not yet, baby. Want to make you come first,” With that he adds another finger and watches, mesmerized, as your cunt takes his digits. The lewd sounds filling the room are enough to make him bust right then and there. He manages to pull himself together though. That is, until he gets a taste of you.

Hyunjin’s tongue slides in between your folds in one flat stripe and he groans. The groan is so deep that you feel it vibrate through your entire being. He traces figure eights across your clit and you swear you're in heaven. His tongue is euphoric and the feeling of his delighted groans are better than ecstasy.

“Hyune, please. I’m almost there.” Your fingers tug at his roots so hard you might have to apologize later. Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind very much.

“You’re so good for me, baby. Come on, finish for me. Let me hear those pretty little symphonies of moans.” You clench around his fingers as he increases the pressure on your clit, giving you a knee buckling orgasm. You crash so hard that Hyunjin has to hold up your waist to prevent you from falling.

He chuckles and licks the insides of your thighs clean before rising to his feet and pulling you into a wet kiss, your own juices invading your tastebuds. Hyunjin finally lets you take off the blindfold after helping you sit up. The man in front of you looks so proud of himself with a lopsided grin, your release glistening on his lips.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He pulls you into another kiss and cups your jaw.

“This gonna happen every year?” You smile. Hyunjin shakes his head.

“This is gonna happen whenever you’ll let me.”

#snowyquokka #stray kids #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x reader #skz reader insert #skz reactions #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin skz #stray kids imagines #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin

182 notes · View notes

rainforestakiie · 1 month ago

Text

Adamsapple Month Harvest

Apple Picking~

@adamsappleweek

okay, so i really want to be apart of this. i was hoping to have the first week written and ready to go! but i ran out of time! i am away the first week, so i have tried really hard! i may be a week behind everyone else! i might be able to get pumpkin out before tomorrow morning when i leave for my vacation! i hope you like it!

peacock adam is inspired by @inubaki

The first tender blush of life was an enchanting, bewildering moment. A strange, ethereal instant. Colours swirled like windswept petals, spiralling around the first human, coaxing them into existence with a soft, delicate pull. Nothing had form in the dawn of time. Shapes flickered in and out like distant dreams, hazy and formless. The first human wasn't quite human yet—more of a flicker of light, a whisper on the breeze, a faint shimmer like the flutter of a butterfly's wings or the soft rustling of peacock feathers, caught in an eternal dance.

"My child, you are awake," a voice as gentle as the wind, warm and soothing, called them to awareness. "My first human."

They flinched at the sudden brightness, their eyes wide and glassy, blinking against the light. The first human wriggled, an odd flutter of sensation tightening in their chest as they became aware of their new body, the unfamiliar weight of limbs. A pulse of warmth cradled them from below, something soft and alive beneath their skin, sending tiny tingles through their senses.

A tender laugh drifted from above, soft as a lullaby, calming the anxious human. "Open your eyes, my child. Open them and behold your new home."

Slowly, cautiously, their eyes fluttered open, the very act of blinking an alien concept. A soft whimper escaped their lips, startling them as they froze, wide-eyed and trembling, trying to make sense of themselves. Another gentle chuckle beckoned their gaze, and finally, the first human looked upon the most exquisite being they would ever know.

Before them stood a figure, radiant with a beauty that words could never hope to capture. She towered above them, a towering presence, ten times their size, her body graceful and slender. She wore a dress as pure and white as freshly fallen snow, flowing like water around her legs, pooling at her feet in a cascade of soft silk. Ribbons of white floated about her arms like whispers and draped across her shoulders was a magnificent cloak of feathers—blue, green, and gold, shimmering like the iridescent wings of a peacock, forming a cascade that fluttered like ethereal wings, though the human wouldn't have known that. She wore crown and was holding a golden sceptre.

Her skin glowed with a warm, sun-kissed hue, her long curls a cascade of deep chestnut and fiery red, framing her face like a crown. But it was her eyes—those golden, otherworldly eyes—that mesmerized the first human, filled with wisdom and warmth, glowing like the very essence of life itself.

"I am a woman," she said with a smile, her voice like honeyed sunlight. "And you, my dear one, are the first man. My first creation. I am your mother, and I will guide you, nurture you, and care for you, as long as you fulfil your purpose."

First man?

The words swirled in his mind, strange and unclear. He could only stare in wonder at the towering woman, giving a small, uncertain nod as she gazed down at him with endless love and patience.

"I am the Queen of the Gods," his mother spoke, her voice firm and regal, the air around her thick with authority. Her golden eyes lifted toward the swirling heavens above, the clouds parting as if bowing to her presence.

"My true name is Hera," she continued, her tone carrying the weight of eternity. "Goddess of marriage, of women, childbirth, and family. But to you, I am simply ‘Mother.’"

“Mother?”

The word hovered on the tip of his tongue, his lips twitching, struggling to form the sound. Hera’s knowing smile softened, and she shook her head gently, her golden eyes gleaming with patience.

“Do not fear, my child,” she murmured, her voice as soft as a breeze through leaves. “That will come in time.” She lifted her golden sceptre with grace, and as she did, a low rumble stirred from behind him. The ground beneath him pulsed, alive and breathing. He tried to move, but his limbs, still unfamiliar and clumsy, betrayed him. He tumbled forward, sprawling awkwardly upon the warm earth.

“This is your duty,” Hera said, her voice resonating with purpose. “The very reason for your birth.”

Frantically, the first human rolled onto his back, eyes wide with curiosity and confusion. Before him, a tiny stick began to emerge from the ground, rising and stretching toward the sky until it stood as tall as he did. He blinked at it, baffled, unable to comprehend its significance.

“This is your purpose,” Hera explained, her gaze never leaving the stick. “Right now, it is but a mere sapling—fragile, insignificant. But as you grow, as you learn, as you feel the stirrings of emotion, this tree will blossom with life. Apples will grow from its branches, and it will become a living testament to your journey.”

Her golden eyes softened as she knelt, bringing herself to his level, her presence both nurturing and commanding. “When the time comes, your duty will be to care for this tree. To protect it, nurture it, and love it with all your being. Listen closely, my child. This tree will give birth to the future of humanity. It is your most sacred responsibility.”

Hera’s voice grew more solemn, her gaze intense. “In time, there will be those who wish to disrupt the path laid by the gods. They will come, seeking to steal an apple from this tree. You must never allow it. Not a single apple may be plucked.”

The first human, bewildered, turned his gaze back to Hera. His mouth opened and closed, desperate to speak, but no words came. His thoughts swirled like the clouds above, too vast and too mysterious for him to grasp. Hera’s expression was filled with something deep—something the first human could not yet understand.

“You will, in time,” she assured him gently. “With patience, understanding will come. But for now, remain close to your tree. Pour your heart and soul into it. This tree, this garden, will be your life, my child. But do not fear, for I will always be with you. Whenever you call for me, I shall appear.”

Her words were spoken with the tender authority of a mother. She smiled, reaching out to him, her fingers brushing through his phantom-like hair. At her touch, the strands transformed, becoming thick and rich, coloured with deep shades of brown and red, like hers. She hummed softly, running her hand through his hair as his new form began to take shape—his skin warm and sun-kissed, his eyes shimmering with the same golden glow that marked him as her own.

“From this moment forward, your name will be Adam,” Hera said, her voice filled with pride. “The first human, born of the Queen of the Gods, Hera.”

~#~

Adam sat quietly, cross-legged on the warm, living earth beneath him, staring at the slender stick before him. His brow furrowed; lips slightly parted in quiet confusion. The stick, so small and fragile, did not seem worthy of the love and protection Hera had told him to give. What could he possibly do for it? He didn’t understand its purpose—much like he didn’t fully understand his own. He looked around the vast garden, golden sunlight dappling the trees, the air sweet and warm, but his gaze always came back to the stick. It stood there, rooted, silent, waiting.

For what?

After a long time, Adam stirred. His fingers twitched in the soil, feeling the pulse of life beneath his fingertips, the breath of the land surrounding him. A flicker of determination sparked within him. He pushed himself up, his legs trembling with uncertainty as he tried to use his feet. But the moment he shifted his weight, he toppled back, landing on his backside with a soft thud. A small, startled laugh escaped him—not from his mouth, but in the way his body shook with surprise.

As if in response to his courage, the stick began to stretch. Slowly, it rose higher than before, its delicate form straightening, thin tendrils of roots starting to twist into the earth. Adam’s breath caught in his chest, his heart beating a little faster as he watched it grow, as though the stick was waiting for him to act. Amazement filled him, his chest tight with wonder, and in that very moment, the tree pulsed. It shuddered with life, thickening, solidifying, its branches extending upward in slow, graceful arcs.

Adam's eyes widened, filled with childlike awe. He took another breath and tried once more, pushing himself to stand. This time, his feet steadied beneath him, though his knees wobbled. The tree responded immediately, growing taller, more magnificent. Each movement, each discovery Adam made about himself, seemed to breathe life into the tree.

Encouraged, Adam took a few shaky steps forward, marvelling at his newfound balance, but in his clumsiness, he tripped over a root. He tumbled to the ground, pain shooting up his leg. The moment his skin grazed the earth, the tree surged with growth, the trunk thickening even more, its roots digging deeper into the soil.

Adam sat there for a moment, rubbing his ankle, staring at the ever-growing tree. The connection between them was undeniable, though still mysterious. He didn’t understand fully, but it filled him with warmth. A warmth that soon turned into joy when Hera appeared again, stepping lightly into the garden like a breeze.

Her golden eyes sparkled with approval as she gazed at the tree, now towering over both, its branches wide and full of promise.

“I am pleased with your growth, my child,” Hera said, her voice soft but filled with pride. “The tree flourishes because of you, and it is already more magnificent than I expected.”

Adam blinked up at her, still unable to speak, though his heart longed to communicate. Hera, as if sensing his confusion, knelt beside him, her presence calming.

“This tree is bound to you,” she explained, her fingers brushing the roots that had tangled themselves lovingly around Adam’s feet. “It will grow as you grow. Its strength, its beauty—everything about it will reflect what you learn, what you feel. It is a mirror of your soul.”

She stood, gesturing to the golden gates that shimmered far in the distance, their tops disappearing into the clouds.

“This land was created for you,” Hera continued. “You may explore anywhere within those gates, but you must never stray beyond them. The tree is your heart, and you must always be near it.”

Adam nodded, though his mind still swirled with questions. Hera smiled gently, a motherly pride shining in her eyes. She bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. The warmth of her touch spread through him, and for the first time, Adam felt something new—a lightness, a joy blooming in his chest.

Without thinking, his lips curled into a smile. Hera chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling as she noticed the first apple, small but perfect, beginning to form on one of the branches above.

“The apple of joy,” she mused, brushing her fingers along the growing fruit. “Well done, my child. I am proud of you.”

Adam’s smile faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes. Proud? The word felt strange, unfamiliar. But Hera simply touched his cheek, her expression kind. “In time, you will understand.”

Not long after, the gods began to visit Adam, each arrival more magnificent than the last. The first to descend from the heavens was Zeus, who appeared in a blaze of lightning and a rolling wave of thunder that seemed to shake the very sky. His presence was immense commanding, like the rumble of a distant storm. The air around him crackled with energy, as if the very clouds bowed to his will. He stood tall, radiating power, his eyes the colour of a tempest, sharp and piercing as they gazed down at Adam.

"I am Zeus," he declared, his voice deep and booming, echoing through the garden like thunder over the hills. "King of the Gods. Ruler of the skies and master of thunder. I am power. I am authority."

His words hung in the air, heavy and electric. Adam stood still, wide-eyed, staring up at this god whose very presence seemed to shake the fabric of the world. Zeus, with all his might, spoke of justice and strength, his teachings woven into the very atmosphere, as if the sky itself listened in reverence. Each word was like the beat of a drum, filled with promise and unyielding force, painting a picture of order and dominion. The air around Adam tingled with something new, something that pulsed deep within him.

As Zeus's voice thundered on, something extraordinary began to happen. The tree that stood beside Adam—the one he had nurtured with his own quiet care—responded. Apples began to blossom from its branches, small and golden, glowing like tiny suns. Each one grew as Zeus spoke, as if the tree itself drank in the knowledge and wisdom of the god’s teachings. Power. Authority. Justice. With every new concept Zeus shared, a fresh apple bloomed, rich and ripe, the tree swelling with life.

Yet, as the apples multiplied, a strange feeling stirred in Adam’s chest—something uncertain, something heavy. His heart fluttered with unease, like the whisper of a breeze before a storm. Though Zeus’s words were filled with grandeur and might, something in them felt... distant, cold, as if they lacked the warmth of the earth, the softness of the garden he had come to know. It was as though the power Zeus spoke of was too vast, too untouchable, leaving Adam with a sense of disquiet that he could not yet name.

It wasn’t long before Hera returned, her golden eyes narrowing in displeasure when she found Zeus in her garden, his voice rumbling through the trees like a storm. Adam was cowering beneath a branch, his heart pounding in his chest.

Hera’s feathers ruffled as she stepped into the clearing, her voice sharp. “Zeus! This is my human. This garden belongs to me. You have no right to be here.”

Zeus, unconcerned, merely smirked, his laughter echoing through the air. “Oh, Hera. Always so protective. Perhaps I’ll create my own humans, but for now, I’m curious to see what your little pet project will become.”

Hera bristled; her anger barely contained. “If Adam becomes something great, you’ll only try to claim him as your own. But he is mine, and you have no place here.”

Zeus chuckled, teasing her. “Don’t stress yourself, my wife, or you’ll wrinkle that lovely brow of yours.”

With a wink, he disappeared in a crack of lightning, leaving Hera fuming, her wings twitching with irritation.

But her mood softened when she turned to Adam, who looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes and spoke his first word.

“Mother.”

Hera’s breath caught, her eyes glistening with tenderness as she smiled down at him.

“Yes, my child?” she whispered, her heart swelling with pride and love.

Another apple began to grow above them.

~#~

After Zeus had come and gone in his stormy grandeur, the other gods and goddesses, curious and eager, began to follow suit. One by one, they entered the sacred garden, each bearing gifts of knowledge and wonder, their divine presence casting a magical glow upon the world Adam was learning to call home. They approached the first human with gentle fascination, intrigued by the sight of new apples sprouting on the tree with each revelation they shared. Every lesson was a seed, and every seed bore fruit.

Poseidon, God of the sea, earthquakes, and horses, was next. He strode toward Adam with the commanding presence of a rolling tide. His eyes glistened like the deepest oceans as he lifted his hand, summoning nature’s unpredictable power. The quiet garden that had once been bare now burst into life. Lush grass unfurled beneath Adam’s feet, trees blossomed in an instant, and vibrant flowers bloomed in hues Adam could hardly name. Streams of water wove their way through the garden, their currents both gentle and wild, a reminder of Poseidon's dual nature. Adam stood in awe, mesmerized the god had conjured life from nothing. Poseidon smiled and spoke of nature's fierce and delicate balance.

"Respect the earth," he said, his voice like the murmur of the waves. "And it will respect you in return."

Soon after, the goddess Demeter stepped into the garden, her every footfall leaving a trail of ripe fruits and vegetables in her wake. Her presence felt like the warmth of a harvest sun, nurturing and kind. She bent down, cupping her hand over the fresh produce that had sprung from the earth.

"Take what you need, my child," she said softly, offering Adam a plump fruit. "But remember, when you take from the soil, plant three seeds in return. Give as much as you receive, for this is the way of life."

Adam listened, her wisdom sinking deep into his heart as he watched the fruits grow larger and more bountiful on his tree.

Next came Athena, goddess of wisdom, warfare, and crafts, her eyes gleaming with the sharp light of intelligence. She knelt beside Adam and began to tell him stories of ancient battles and cunning strategies. She taught him the art of creation, showing him how to meld his surroundings into tools.

"With wisdom and patience, you can shape your world," she said, her voice calm and steady.

Adam found himself captivated by her words, eager to learn the skills she offered, and with each new craft, a bright apple blossomed on the tree, glowing with the light of knowledge.

Of all the visitors, Adam’s heart warmed most to Apollo, the god of the sun, music, and healing. When Apollo entered the garden, the entire world seemed to shine brighter, the sun blooming high in the sky as if it had been born from his very soul. A radiant light bathed the garden, casting warmth over Adam’s skin and filling him with a sense of peace.

"This sun is for you, to keep your garden warm and your heart light," Apollo said, his voice like the soft strum of a lyre.

With him, he brought music—the sweetest gift of all. He taught Adam how to build instruments, crafting a simple guitar from the wood of the Tree of Life. They would sit for hours beneath the branches, Adam learning how to play, his fingers dancing across the strings while Apollo sang beside him. Each note they played seemed to bring more life to the garden, and more apples to the tree.

But where there was sun, there was also moon. Artemis, goddess of the hunt and the wild, soon followed her twin brother into the garden, her arrival as quiet as moonlight but filled with purpose. The moment she stepped into the garden, a silver glow spread across the land, and a luminous moon took its place beside Apollo’s sun. Her presence brought the wilderness with it—deer, wolves, and all manner of wild creatures slipped through the shadows to join the peaceful garden.

"The wild has its place here, too," she said, her eyes fierce but protective.

She taught Adam about the beauty and freedom of the untamed world, and how nature could flourish in chaos as well as in calm.

Then came Ares, God of war. His entrance was not soft like the others but bold, the air around him crackling with energy. He spoke to Adam of conflict, aggression, and the chaos of battle, his words laced with intensity. Adam, however, felt uneasy under his fierce gaze, unsure how to reconcile the violence Ares spoke of with the peace of his garden. But soon after, Hephaestus, God of blacksmiths and fire, arrived to offer balance. He showed Adam how to channel those darker emotions into creation, shaping metal and flame into something beautiful and useful.

"There is power in transformation," Hephaestus explained, his hands forging tools from raw materials, each one gleaming with purpose.

Hermes, the god of messengers, travellers, and trickery, arrived with a swiftness that left Adam blinking in surprise. Hermes was quick and clever, his words flowing like a river as he taught Adam the arts of communication, how to speak and write, how to understand the language of the world. With every lesson, Adam's own speech grew clearer, his thoughts more organized, and apples of intellect sprouted from the branches above.

Hestia, the gentle goddess of the hearth and home, came quietly into the garden, her presence a warm and comforting embrace. She guided Adam in the art of creating a home, ensuring that the place he rested was not just a shelter, but a space filled with peace, stability, and warmth. She smiled at him, her eyes glowing like embers, as she showed him how to build a fire, how to keep the hearth burning, always.

The final visitor was Dionysus, God of wine, festivity, and the wild joy of life. His energy was exuberant, his laughter contagious as he tried to teach Adam the art of celebration. He offered Adam a cup of wine, and for the first time, Adam felt the giddiness of intoxication. But before the festivities could get out of hand, Hera appeared, her expression stern as she found Adam giggling and stumbling.

"No more wine for you," she declared, her voice soft but firm. "You are to remain clear-headed, my child."

Adam, sheepish but amused, smiled up at her, nodding in agreement.

Through it all, the tree continued to grow, fed by the wisdom and emotions Adam absorbed from the gods and goddesses. It stood taller and prouder, its branches heavy with apples of every hue, each one a testament to Adam’s journey of learning. As Hera watched over him, her eyes softened with affection. Though Adam had yet to fully understand his purpose, the garden was already flourishing, and with each new step he took, his heart and the tree both grew stronger.

Adam's days stretched into a gentle, golden haze, filled with warmth and quiet contentment. The hours drifted by as he lay beneath his ever-growing tree, the soft grass cradling his body. His golden eyes shimmered in the dappled light, watching as the tree—once a mere stick—had now blossomed into a towering presence. Its branches extended in every direction like wooden arms, reaching toward the heavens. Apples of every hue dangled from those branches, each pulsing softly with life, glowing with the emotions they represented. Adam often found himself lost in thought, wondering how these apples, brimming with such power, would one day birth something greater. Yet, his heart brimmed with trust. Hera, his beloved mother, had told him they were important, and Adam believed in her words with all his being. He adored her, cherished her guidance, and found peace in knowing she always watched over him.

But despite the serene beauty of his garden, it could be terribly lonely. The gentle hum of nature that surrounded him—while comforting—wasn't enough to fill the quiet when the gods and goddesses weren’t visiting. Adam savored their company, especially Apollo’s, who often lingered for hours, filling the air with music and warmth until someone from the clouds had to come fetch him. But once they left, an empty ache settled in Adam’s chest, a hollow space that nothing seemed to fill.

With a soft sigh and a slight pout, Adam rolled onto his side, his fingers absently playing with the grass, twirling the blades between his fingers. The small daisies giggled as he touched them, their soft petals tickling his skin, but his mind was elsewhere. He barely noticed when the air around him shifted, becoming warmer, the breeze carrying with it a sweet, intoxicating scent of blossoms.

"So, you’re the human everyone has been speaking of," a voice cooed from behind him, silky and warm.

Startled, Adam jerked upright, scrambling onto his knees to turn and face the new presence in his garden. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the goddess who leaned gracefully against his tree. She was breathtaking, with long, cascading curls of golden hair and eyes as blue and deep as the ocean. Her form was delicate but radiant, her waist slim and her chest perfectly curved. She smiled at him, fingers lazily tapping the bark of the tree as one brow arched playfully.

"Are you not going to greet me?" she teased, her voice like a melody, as though woven from honey and light.

Adam blinked, his mind scrambling to catch up.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice soft with wonder.

The goddess laughed, a sweet, lilting sound that danced on the breeze. "Oh, I see. You’ve grown bold, haven’t you?" Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry,” Adam stammered, his face flushing deeply with embarrassment. He bowed his head quickly, his gaze falling away from her radiant beauty.

With a soft smile, the goddess pushed herself off the tree and walked toward him, her movements graceful and fluid. She knelt before him, her long, delicate fingers reaching out to gently lift his chin, guiding his gaze back to hers.

"My name is Aphrodite," she whispered, her voice as smooth as silk. "The goddess of love, beauty, and desire."

“Love?” Adam repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion as the unfamiliar word left his lips. But at the same time, his face burned with a new, unfamiliar warmth under her gaze.

Aphrodite’s soft giggle sent shivers down Adam’s spine. Her eyes flicked upwards, catching the sight of a brilliant pink apple forming on one of the branches above.

“My apple, I presume?” she mused, her voice dripping with amusement.

Adam followed her gaze, watching in awe as the rosy fruit bloomed before his eyes, its color vibrant and intoxicating. His heart fluttered with a strange, new feeling—shyness mixed with curiosity. Relief flooded him as Aphrodite released his chin and stood up, but the sensation in his stomach—an odd, coiling warmth—lingered. He felt small, bashful under her enchanting gaze, and she clearly revelled in his unease.

Humming softly, Aphrodite let her fingertips trail along the bark of the tree, her touch almost reverent as she moved closer to the freshly grown apple. Her hand reached up toward the pink fruit, brushing the air just beneath it, when Adam’s breath caught in his throat.

“P-Please don’t touch my apples!” he blurted out, clambering clumsily to his feet. “Mother told me no one is allowed to pick them!”

Aphrodite turned to him, her lips curling into a smile that was both playful and mysterious, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Do not fear, Addie," she purred, her tone teasing as the nickname rolled off her tongue. "I have no intention of picking the apple."

Adam's face flared crimson at the sound of the nickname, his heart thudding in his chest. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, his body fidgeting under her gaze. Aphrodite, clearly delighted by his reaction, let out a soft, spine-tingling hum, her attention drifting back to the tree. She traced her fingers along the bark, her touch light and careful, as if she were caressing something alive.

And in a way, she was. The tree pulsed beneath her hand, its bark warm and almost breathing, alive with the magic and emotions it held. Adam stood frozen, unsure of what to do, his eyes wide and his heart racing as Aphrodite’s presence filled the air around him. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze locking with his, and in that moment, Adam felt something stir deep within him—something entirely new.

Whatever it was, it left him breathless.

Aphrodite’s gaze lingered on Adam as she playfully tilted her head, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Tell me, Addie,” she purred, her voice soft as velvet, “do you think I’m the most beautiful goddess? Even more beautiful than Hera?”

Adam blinked, taken aback by her question. His thoughts immediately drifted to Hera, his mother. He didn’t answer, not because he didn’t want to, but because, in his heart, no one could ever be more beautiful than her. She was his everything—his guide, his creator, his protector. Aphrodite, sensing his hesitation, let out a dramatic sigh and pouted.

“Oh, pooh!” she whimpered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I really thought my charm had won you over.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his golden eyes wide with genuine confusion. Adam cocked his head, puzzled by her words.

Aphrodite shrugged, her delicate shoulders rising as she leaned back against the tree. “My power, darling.”

“Is born from romance, passion, and physical attraction. I thought you'd be entranced by me—how could you not be?” She huffed like a child denied a toy, her lower lip jutting out ever so slightly.

“I was so sure you'd choose me over Hera. But no matter,” she added with a flick of her hair, “I’ll prove to you that motherly love is nothing compared to the love of a soulmate.”

Adam's brows furrowed as he stared at her, utterly bewildered. Her words danced around him like a strange puzzle, none of the pieces fitting together.

"What are you talking about?" he murmured, his innocence radiating from him like sunlight.

Aphrodite’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. She straightened up, finally looking at him with a more serious expression.

“Tell me, Adam,” she began again, her voice a touch softer, “Do you love Hera?”

Without hesitation, Adam blinked and answered, “Of course I do. She’s, my mother.”

Aphrodite let out a snort, her lips curling into a smug smile. “Oh, Addie," she teased, "one day, you’ll abandon everything. Even Hera. For someone else.”

Adam’s frown deepened, his expression growing serious. “I would never betray my mother,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. The very idea felt foreign, impossible.

Aphrodite laughed, a rich, melodic sound that filled the garden.

“Ah, love makes people do crazy things, my dear,” she said, a knowing look flashing in her eyes. “Trust me, even the strongest ties can be broken by love.”

Adam remained silent, unsure of what to say. The concept of love that Aphrodite spoke of felt strange, distant, like something just out of his reach. He could feel it tugging at him, but it made no sense.

Sensing his confusion, Aphrodite’s expression softened. “Love…”

“Is like a rose. Beautiful, vibrant, full of life… but also dangerous. Its thorns can hurt you.” As she spoke, vivid red roses began to bloom along her gown, their petals velvety and radiant in the warm light.

Adam’s eyes were immediately drawn to the roses. Mesmerized, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing over the delicate petals. But as his hand moved lower, it caught on a thorn, and with a sharp sting, he pulled back, gasping softly as a drop of blood welled on his fingertip. His eyebrows knitted together as he stared at the crimson bead forming on his skin.

Without hesitation, Aphrodite stepped closer, her soft fingers wrapping around his hand. She looked down at the tiny wound, her gaze tender, and gently cupped his hand in hers. "Does love hurt like this?" Adam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling. Aphrodite smiled, the kind of smile that held the weight of centuries. “The greatest love stories always come with pain and tears.”

“But why?” Adam asked, his golden eyes wide and filled with a mixture of curiosity and sadness.

Aphrodite grinned at him, her blue eyes sparkling with mystery.

“Because, my dear Addie, love is a force more powerful than you can imagine.” She brushed her fingers against his cheek, her touch light and almost comforting. "Can you keep a secret?"

Adam’s eyes grew wide with fascination. “I can!” he blurted out eagerly, only to pause and frown. “But… I don’t know what a secret is.”

Aphrodite giggled, the sound like the tinkling of wind chimes. “A secret,” she explained, “is something you keep just between the two of us. No one else can know—not even Hera.”

Adam hesitated, his heart fluttering. His loyalty to Hera was unshakable, and yet… there was something captivating about Aphrodite’s words. Her fingers stroked his cheek gently, and her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Please, keep my secret, Addie?” she purred.

His face flushed red, the warmth creeping up his neck as he swallowed hard. After a moment of struggle, he gave in, nodding slowly.

“O-Okay. I promise.”

Aphrodite’s smile widened in satisfaction. “Good boy. I’m making something. Something beautiful and wonderful.”

Adam's curiosity flared, his heart pounding with the excitement of something new. “What are you making?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

Aphrodite leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “The first angel.”

Adam’s eyes grew even wider, his breath catching in his throat. A soft silence fell between them, and after a moment, he whispered back, “What’s an angel?”

Aphrodite giggled again, her laughter sending a shiver down Adam’s spine. She patted his cheek playfully, her fingers lingering for just a moment.

“You’ll learn in time, Addie,” she teased. “You’ll see.”

Before he could ask anything more, Aphrodite winked at him, and as she began to step back, her form dissolved into a shower of rose petals that fluttered into the air. The petals swirled around him, transforming into delicate red butterflies that filled the garden, flitting among the branches of his tree.

Adam stood in awe, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the last of the butterflies disappear into the sky. He was amazed, breathless at the beauty of the display. And though Aphrodite was gone, her words lingered in his mind—her secret resting like a fragile bloom inside him, waiting to unfold.

~#~

One warm day, as it always was warm in the garden, Hera arrived to visit Adam. The moment he saw her, his heart swelled with happiness. It had been so long since anyone had come to see him, and his days had grown lonely in the quiet, though the vibrant garden never ceased to bloom around him. Yet today, something was different. The way Hera huffed and puffed, her eyes narrowed in frustration as she grumbled softly to herself, made Adam pause in confusion. He blinked up at her, tilting his head curiously before slowly approaching.

"Mother?" he called gently, his voice soft and filled with concern. "What’s wrong?"

Hera finally looked down at him, her eyes softening as she realized the worry in her precious human's gaze. "Oh, Adam," she sighed, "I didn’t mean to worry you." Her voice, though still regal, was tinged with weariness.

Adam’s wide smile returned, though his golden eyes searched her face with care. "Why are you upset, Mother?"

“It’s my husband, Zeus,” she muttered, her voice heavy with irritation. Hera pressed her fingers to her temple, massaging away an invisible ache. “He’s being foolish once again, trying to outdo me with his own human project. As if that will make up for his nonsense.”

Adam didn’t fully understand what she meant, but he could tell that whatever Zeus had done was the source of her vexation. His heart ached to see her troubled, so he decided to act. With a bright smile, he dashed toward the garden’s edge, gathering the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he had tended. Their petals glistened with dew, each bloom vibrant and full of life. With care, he presented the bouquet to Hera, holding it up as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

"These are for you, Mother," Adam said, his voice soft and hopeful. "I hope they make you feel better."

Hera’s face softened at the sight of the flowers, and a smile slowly spread across her lips. She reached down and took the bouquet, inhaling the delicate fragrance.

"Oh, Adam," she said fondly, her eyes brightening as her irritation began to melt away. “These are beautiful. You always know how to cheer me up.”

Her gaze travelled upwards to the Tree of Life, which now stood tall and magnificent, its branches reaching toward the heavens, heavy with thousands of glimmering apples. The sight of it made Hera's chest swell with pride.

"Look at your tree," she mused, her voice filled with admiration. "It’s more vibrant than ever, so full of life. You’ve done so well, Adam. I expected no less from my precious human."

Adam beamed, his heart racing with joy at her words. Nothing made him happier than making Hera proud. Her praise was the sunlight that nourished his soul, just as the tree thrived beneath the warm rays of the sun.

Hera stayed with him for a long while after that, her presence a comfort Adam had missed deeply. They spoke about the garden, the tree, and everything he had learned from the other gods, but all too soon, the time for her to leave drew near. Adam could feel it, a hollowing sadness creeping into his heart. He had been so happy in her company, but now that she was preparing to leave, the loneliness returned, wrapping itself around him like a cold shadow.

Just as Hera turned to go, she noticed the change in him—the way his bright expression dimmed, how his shoulders hunched slightly as if trying to hide his sadness. She turned back, gently taking his hand and drawing him close, her golden eyes searching his face.

"Adam," she said softly, lifting his chin so he would meet her gaze. "Why are you so blue, my dear? Tell me, what troubles you?"

Adam hesitated, but then he took a deep breath, trusting his mother with every part of his heart.

"I’m lonely," he admitted quietly, his voice trembling. "I don’t like it when you leave. The garden is so quiet when you’re not here, and it’s starting to… hurt."

As Hera's golden eyes sparkled with newfound light, her wings unfolded with a graceful sweep, feathers shimmering like the first light of dawn breaking over the horizon. From the luminous plume, peacocks began to emerge, one after another, their feathers rich with opalescent blues, greens, and golds, each bird more breathtaking than the last. Their elegant tails trailed behind them like waterfalls of light, the garden now alive with the soft rustling of feathers and the occasional musical trill of their calls.

Adam gasped, his heart fluttering with awe and delight as the peacocks strutted around him, their beauty mesmerizing. The air felt warmer, more alive, and the garden seemed to breathe with new energy as the creatures made it their home. He watched, wide-eyed, as they wandered between the flowers, under the shade of the great tree, their feathers gleaming like precious gems scattered across the earth.

Hera, regal and motherly, watched Adam's wonder with a smile full of affection. She knelt beside him; her hand gentle on his shoulder. "These peacocks, my dear Adam, will be your companions. No longer will you walk alone in this garden. They will keep you company, shower you with affection, and rely on you as you will rely on them."

Adam's golden eyes shimmered as he gazed up at Hera. The ache of loneliness that had gnawed at him for so long began to melt away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude.

"Thank you, Mother," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Hera brushed a lock of his hair from his face, her fingers warm and comforting.

“The tree, of course, will always be your greatest duty, for it is tied to the very core of your being. But these peacocks,” she gestured to the birds now fanning their tails in the sunlight, “they will be your second family. They will love you as deeply as you care for them. But remember, you must look after them, nurture them. They will look to you for guidance and protection, as you look to me.”

A smile broke across Adam’s face, radiant and innocent. “I promise, I will take care of them, just as you take care of me,” he said earnestly, his heart full of devotion. The bond he shared with Hera felt stronger than ever, as though the garden itself now pulsed with the rhythm of their shared love.

Hera’s gaze softened, and with tender grace, she bent down and pressed a kiss to Adam’s forehead. Her lips were cool and comforting, like the kiss of a soft breeze on a summer day.

“I adore you, my precious Adam,” she murmured, her voice carrying the depth of the heavens themselves.

Adam’s heart swelled with emotion, and without hesitation, he looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes.

“I love you too, Mother,” he said, his words simple yet filled with a pure, untainted love that only a child could give.

For a moment, Hera’s golden eyes flickered with something like surprise. Her gaze drifted upwards, catching sight of a brilliant pink apple nestled among the branches of the great tree—the apple of love, Aphrodite’s gift to the garden. Hera’s lips curved into a wistful smile, a mixture of pride and something more. She sighed softly, but her smile never wavered.

Looking back at Adam, she caressed his cheek, her touch light as a feather. “Love is a powerful thing, Adam. You will learn this in time,” she whispered. Her eyes, filled with both wisdom and a mother’s tenderness, held his gaze for a lingering moment.

The garden, now alive with the soft calls of the peacocks and the gentle rustle of leaves, seemed to hold its breath as Hera rose to her feet. She stood tall and radiant, her peacock feathers shimmering in the sunlight, the embodiment of regal beauty. Her time with Adam was ending, yet she hesitated, sensing the weight of his emotions.

As she prepared to leave, she noticed the shift in Adam—the way his joy began to fade, his posture becoming small and withdrawn, like a flower wilting without sunlight. Her heart ached at the sight, and she turned back, drawing him close to her once more. “Adam, my sweet child,” she said softly, her voice full of concern. “What is troubling you?”

Adam’s eyes, filled with a mix of sadness and longing, met hers. “I don’t like it when you leave, Mother. I feel so lonely when you’re gone. The garden feels empty without you. It’s starting to... hurt.”

Hera was silent for a moment, her heart heavy with his words. She could see the depth of his loneliness, the pain in his golden eyes. Gently, she cupped his face in her hands, her touch filled with both comfort and understanding.

“Oh, my dear Adam,” she murmured, her golden eyes softening with compassion. “You will never be alone. Not anymore.”

With a radiant smile, she raised her arms once more, and from her magnificent wings of peacock feathers came birds—more peacocks, brilliant in their blue and green splendor. They soared into the sky, their feathers glinting in the sunlight, before descending gracefully to the garden floor. Thousands of them filled the space, their presence vibrant and alive.

Adam gasped, his heart racing with excitement and joy as the birds flocked around him, their soft coos filling the air. His garden, once quiet and still, was now alive with the flutter of wings and the warmth of companionship.

“They will be your family now, Adam,” Hera said, her voice soothing. “They will love you and care for you as you will for them. They will be your constant companions, so you will never feel lonely again.”

Tears of gratitude welled in Adam’s eyes, and he beamed up at Hera, his heart overflowing with love.

“Thank you, Mother,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will take care of them, I promise.”

Hera smiled, her eyes glowing with pride and affection. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead once more, her touch soft and full of love. “I know you will, my precious child.”

As she prepared to leave once more, her wings shimmering in the sunlight, Hera glanced back at Adam, her heart full of love for the human she had created.

“Remember, Adam,” she said softly, “I will always be with you, no matter where I am. You are never truly alone.”

Adam nodded, his heart swelling with warmth as he watched her disappear into the soft light of the garden. The peacocks fluttered around him, their vibrant feathers glistening in the sunlight, and for the first time in a long while, Adam felt at peace.

He was no longer alone, and the garden—his home—was more alive than ever before.

~#~

Centuries slipped by like whispers on the wind. Though the world had largely forgotten him, Hera remained a steadfast visitor, weaving in and out of his days. Yet, Adam found himself mostly enveloped in a gentle solitude that no longer felt heavy upon his heart. His family of peacocks brought vibrant chaos to his life, each bird a shimmering personality, each one a delightful puzzle that kept him joyously occupied. He marvelled at the way their feathers caught the light, dancing in iridescent hues.

Lately, he had sensed a change in the skies, a fluttering mystery just beyond his reach. While he couldn't quite grasp its significance, he’d caught snatches of hushed conversations during Hera's visits. Other deities drifted in and out of his life like fleeting shadows, but Zeus remained notably absent. Adam surmised that Hera’s fiery spirit had sent him packing, while the mighty god busied himself with some enigmatic human endeavour, whatever that might entail.

For the past hundred years or so, Adam had spotted ethereal figures flitting through the azure expanse above, their wings glinting like jewels in the sunlight. None dared enter his enchanted garden, for Hera had made it clear that such incursions were forbidden. Still, Adam would stretch out upon the warm, welcoming grass, his heart brimming with wonder, as he watched these mysterious beings soar overhead.

He had honoured the sacred rules his mother set forth, never straying from the venerable Tree of Life, never once daring to breach the golden gates that cradled him in safety.

It wasn't so bad, he mused to himself, the gentle solitude wrapping around him like a soft blanket.

“Cain! Come on!” Adam implored; hands perched defiantly on his hips. “Stop bullying Abel!”

The obstinate red and black peacock merely scoffed, tossing his magnificent, feathered tail with a flourish as he stormed off, sending a cascade of vibrant feathers swirling in the air. Adam leaped aside, narrowly avoiding the gust of prideful disdain. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, releasing a soft, disappointed sound as he turned his attention toward Abel.

Kneeling on the sun-kissed grass, he shifted closer to his smallest peacock, who seemed to embody gentleness itself. With tender hands, he opened his arms wide, welcoming Abel into a warm embrace.

“Did Cain hurt you badly this time?” he asked, carefully inspecting the delicate pink and white feathers that adorned Abel. The reason behind Cain’s relentless teasing remained a mystery to him, but he could never fathom why his heartless brother targeted the sweet little runt of the family.

Abel responded with a soft coo, nuzzling deeper into Adam's embrace, and Adam’s heart swelled with affection. He smiled tenderly, lifting the small peacock effortlessly into his arms, feeling the familiar warmth of companionship. A soft crack echoed as he straightened, relieved to find that Abel’s feathers remained unscathed this time. Cain hadn’t managed to snatch any away. Adam had hoped for a kinder heart to blossom in Cain, but alas, the bully remained unchanged.

“Don’t worry, dear Abel. I’ll protect you from the big, mean Cain~” he sang softly, cradling the peacock gently as he began to stroll back toward the majestic Tree of Life.

Abel cooed again, nuzzling his fluffy white head affectionately against Adam’s cheek. Adam grinned, feeling a spark of joy light up his heart.

“I’ll groom your feathers again~” he whispered playfully, swaying slightly with the little peacock nestled against him.

Adam began to hum a soft, lilting melody that Apollo had taught him so many lifetimes ago. The song drifted through the garden, soft as the breeze that swirled around the shimmering feathers of his peacock family. As the tender notes floated on the air, the mischievous birds gradually settled down, their playful antics pausing for the moment. Adam’s golden eyes sparkled with a mix of love and amusement as he caught several of them mid-mischief, their vibrant tails fanning out in innocence as he strolled by. But as he passed, they quieted, calmed by his presence and song.

It had been far too long since his mother, Hera, had visited. A familiar ache twisted in Adam’s chest at the thought of her absence. He adored his peacocks—they filled his days with color and company—but he couldn’t deny the depth of his longing to see Hera again. Nearly a hundred years had passed since their last meeting, and the distance only deepened his yearning. Something was happening outside the golden gates, something momentous, and though Adam didn’t know what it was, he could feel it in the air. His curiosity gnawed at him, mingling with a growing sense of exclusion. Why was he being left out? Why had the gods turned their attention elsewhere?

As he approached the towering Tree of Life, Adam’s gaze shifted upward—and his footsteps came to an abrupt halt. His heart skipped a beat, confusion flickering across his face. There, hovering in the air near the sacred tree, was a figure. They moved gracefully, never quite touching the tree, but far too close for Adam’s comfort. His eyes darted toward his peacocks, many of whom had now noticed the intruder, and Cain, ever the troublemaker, had begun to creep toward the tree, his striking red and black feathers ruffling in preparation for an attack.

Sharing a quick, knowing glance with Abel, Adam tiptoed closer, curiosity fully piqued. The figure was breathtakingly beautiful—unlike any being Adam had ever seen. He had met countless gods and goddesses over the centuries, but none had ever taken his breath away quite like this mysterious stranger.

Suddenly, the figure’s six enormous, feathered wings fluttered, lifting them higher, closer to the branches of the ancient tree. Adam’s gaze locked onto their hands as they stretched out, fingertips grazing the air just inches from Athena’s golden apple of knowledge. The figure remained blissfully unaware of Adam—or of the slyly advancing Cain.

“I wouldn’t do that~” Adam called out softly, though his voice held a note of awe.

The stranger jerked in surprise, their head snapping upward—only to smack it against a low-hanging branch. Their pristine white top hat flew as they winced, rubbing their head with a pained expression. Slowly, they turned to face Adam, their eyes half-closed in discomfort.

“Huh?” they murmured, blinking down at him.

“I suggest you move,” Adam said with a helpful smile, gesturing toward Cain with a nod.

Wide, beautiful blue eyes—large and round—peered down at Adam in astonishment. The stranger’s cherry-red lips parted, barely able to form words before Cain leaped at them with a furious squawk. With a startled yelp, the winged figure darted out of the way just in time, but Cain wasn’t satisfied with merely scaring them off. He launched himself from the tree, landing squarely on the stranger in a tangle of feathers and limbs, sending both crashing to the ground in a messy heap.

Gasping, Adam quickly set Abel down and dashed over, grabbing Cain around the middle. “Cain, stop!” he pleaded, tugging the furious peacock off the bewildered stranger. Even as Adam lifted him, Cain continued to squawk and thrash, determined to make his displeasure known.

“You’ve made your point!” Adam sighed, stepping toward the Tree of Life.

Cain huffed indignantly, casting one last spiteful glance at the stranger before leaping from Adam’s arms and retreating high into the tree branches, where he glared down like an angry sentinel.

Shaking his head, Adam turned his attention back to the newcomer, who was still lying on the ground, dazed but seemingly unharmed. Aside from a few scratches and a mess of feathers tangled in their golden curls, they appeared mostly fine. Adam knelt beside them; concern etched on his face.

“Um... are you okay?” he asked, his voice sheepish.

The winged figure blinked up at him, their large blue eyes glowing with confusion. Slowly, they sat up, their six wings fluttering as they shook off the shock. They frowned, rubbing the scratch on their blue-painted cheek and sending a glare toward Cain, who squawked mockingly from his perch.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You should really control your bird,” they grumbled, their voice low and disgruntled.

Adam tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over the stranger with unabashed curiosity. Up close, they were even more striking. Their golden curls framed a face that seemed to have been kissed by artistry itself, their long black lashes framing eyes that gleamed like polished sapphires. No nose graced their face, but their cherry-red lips and blue-painted cheeks gave them an ethereal charm. Their six wings shimmered in the sunlight, a blend of snow and sky-blue feathers that glittered like frost in the morning light.

“Oh!” Adam gasped softly, spotting the golden halo that hovered just above the stranger’s head. His eyes widened in awe as he reached for the white top hat that had fallen nearby. “Um... this is yours?”

The stranger eyed the hat for a moment, then reached out, their fingers brushing Adam’s as they took it. Before they could speak, Cain hissed from above.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the stranger remarked, their tone guarded.

“I could say the same about you!” Adam chirped brightly, excitement bubbling in his voice. “I’ve never seen you in my garden before!”

“What?” The stranger frowned, their wings giving a sharp flutter as they rose gracefully to their feet. “Your garden? This belongs to the Queen of Gods, doesn’t it?”

“My mother’s garden,” Adam hummed, his eyes wide with fascination as he watched the stranger’s wings move.

The stranger’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Your mother? Who are you?”

Adam giggled softly, still holding the fallen white top hat, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I really am Adam,” he insisted, “The first human.”

The stranger snorted in disbelief, shaking their head and narrowing their sapphire eyes. “No, you're not. I know who the first humans are. It’s been my responsibility to guide them for the past year or so.”

“Oh? And who are these ‘first humans,’ then?” he asked, his golden gaze sparkling with interest. Adam tilted his head to the side, curiosity piqued.

“The first man is named Steve,” they said, their voice dripping with authority. The stranger puffed up with pride, their wings fluttering slightly as they crossed their arms. “But he’s not exactly the nicest guy. In fact, he’s a bully—controlling, bossy, always pushing people around. And he torments Lilith constantly.”

Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion, his lips parting. “Lilith? Who’s Lilith?”

The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback that Adam didn’t know. “Lilith is the first woman. She and Steve were created together, as equals, to bring mankind into being. But Steve—well, he’s been nothing but trouble. Constantly tries to overpower Lilith, treating her like she’s beneath him.”

Adam blinked, processing the stranger’s words. Then, suddenly, it clicked. He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in realization.

“Ohhh, now I get it. I think I finally know what’s been going on—why my mother, Hera, was so upset all those centuries ago.”

The stranger stopped short, his prideful expression fading into silent curiosity. He didn’t say a word, but his intense blue eyes stayed locked on Adam, waiting.

Blushing under the stranger’s gaze, Adam cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. “I’m guessing this Steve and Lilith... they were created by Zeus, weren’t they? The King of the Gods?”

The stranger gave a stiff nod, still watching Adam closely. His curiosity only deepened when Adam giggled softly again, as if finally understanding something profound.

“That explains it,” Adam whispered to himself, though the stranger’s sharp ears caught every word. “That’s why Mother was so furious with him. Zeus... he copied her. He went off and created his own humans.”

The angel's interest intensified, and he moved a step closer, his blue eyes bright and filled with a kind of desperate curiosity.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice soft, almost breathless.

Adam looked up, meeting those glowing eyes. He took a step forward, leaning in slightly, causing the angel’s cheeks to flush the colour of sunrise.

“I mean,” Adam began, his voice soft and full of warmth, “I am the first human. I was born centuries ago, and I’ve lived here in Hera’s Garden ever since, caring for the Tree of Life.”

The stranger’s gaze shifted from Adam to the magnificent tree behind them, its branches pulsing with ancient energy. “You mean... it’s your responsibility to take care of the tree?”

Adam beamed, his smile wide and radiant. “Yes! The tree is deeply connected to me—born from my emotions, my feelings, my experiences. Each time I learn something new, each time I feel something deeply, a new apple grows.”

The stranger’s eyes widened in awe, their wings quivering slightly as they gazed at the tree. “I... I never knew that,” they whispered to themselves, voice barely audible. “There’s so much I didn’t know.”

“Who are you?” he asked at last, his voice gentle. Adam stepped forward again, catching their gaze, his own eyes soft and curious. “I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”

The angel’s face turned bright red under Adam’s attentive gaze. He took a step back, tugging nervously at the collar of his blue-and-white robes.

“I... I’m an angel,” he stammered, eyes flicking away from Adam’s intense gaze.

Adam gasped, his golden eyes growing wide with excitement. “An angel! I’ve been waiting so long to meet one!”

His joy was almost infectious as he leaned in eagerly. “Do you have a name?”

The angel shook his head, his expression turning a bit sombre. “No. None of us do. Angels... we aren’t given names.”

Adam frowned at that, the idea of someone so beautiful and special not having a name stirring something in his heart.

“Well, that’s no good,” he declared, crossing his arms with determination. “You need a name! I’m quite good at naming things, you know. I named all the peacocks!”

“Fine,” he sighed after a moment, a trace of amusement slipping through his serious exterior. The angel raised an eyebrow, giving Adam a dry look, but he didn’t protest. “What would you call me, then?”

Adam tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he studied the angel. After a few moments, his face lit up with a soft blush.

“Lucifer,” he said with a shy smile. “I think your name should be Lucifer.”

The angel blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that. For a moment, he was silent, rolling the name over in his mind. To his own surprise, he found that he liked it—really liked it.

“Lucifer,” he repeated slowly, a smile ghosting at the edges of his lips. “Why that name?”

Adam’s blush deepened, and he glanced down, suddenly bashful.

“Because...” he started, glancing back up at Lucifer, “You remind me of the Morning Star.”

Lucifer stared at Adam, wide-eyed and speechless for the first time, his heart skipping a beat. The name felt perfect, as if it had always been waiting for him, and Adam’s warm, sincere gaze made it even more meaningful. For the first time, Lucifer felt seen—truly seen—and as the gentle breeze stirred the golden leaves above them, the magic of that moment settled between them like stardust.

Lucifer shook his head, trying to dispel the strange warmth blooming in his chest. His six wings trembled, and he quickly pulled himself away from Adam, not realizing just how close he had leaned in, drawn by the soft glow of Adam's golden eyes and the blush deepening on his cheeks. Lucifer’s own face flushed pink, and in a moment of flustered panic, he pulled down his top hat to hide the heat rising in his cheeks.

“I-I should get going!” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “I have to get back to Eden. I—I don’t want to be accused of neglecting my responsibilities!”

His wings fluttered awkwardly, ready to lift him away, as if his sudden escape could mask the overwhelming feelings stirring inside him.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, and he instinctively stumbled after the angel. “Wait, Lucifer!”

Lucifer froze mid-flight, his heart stuttering at the sound of his name. It was so new, so strange to be called by something that felt so... personal. His whole body shivered as if the sound of his name from Adam’s lips was a gust of wind brushing over his skin. Slowly, he turned, his wings flapping just enough to keep him suspended in the air, his face growing even redder.

“Y-Yes?” he managed, his voice soft and trembling. “What is it?”

Adam hesitated, his hands fidgeting with nervous energy, his golden eyes wide and pleading. “You’ll come back, won’t you? You’ll come see me again, right?”

There was a desperate hope in Adam’s voice, something that tugged at Lucifer’s very soul. The thought of never seeing the angel again made Adam’s chest tighten, an ache he didn’t understand, but one that was impossible to ignore.

Lucifer swallowed hard, his heart racing as he held Adam’s gaze. Something inside him fluttered in response—an unfamiliar feeling, like the beginning of a melody he had never heard but somehow knew by heart.

“I... I will,” he answered softly, his voice steadier this time. “I’ll come back and see you soon. I promise.”

The way Adam’s face lit up, the way his smile radiated pure joy, sent Lucifer’s heart into a flustered spiral, his blush deepening as he looked away. His wings fluttered nervously, but the smile on Adam’s face left him rooted in place for just a moment longer, drinking in the sight of that happiness, like sunlight spilling into a shadowed corner.

Neither of them noticed the soft, shimmering magic that began to swirl around the branches of the Tree of Life. High above them, a ruby-red apple began to take shape, its surface gleaming like a polished gem, born from the quiet wonder blooming between them. The tree pulsed with quiet energy, responding to the bond being formed in that very moment, a connection laced with tenderness and curiosity, so fragile yet so profound.

For just a second, Lucifer’s wings fluttered slower, his gaze lingering on Adam’s glowing face. He felt something stir deep within him, something he wasn’t ready to name. But with a final bashful glance, he tore himself away, shooting into the sky, his heart pounding in a way that was entirely new to him.

As he disappeared into the heavens, Adam stood beneath the Tree of Life, watching Lucifer’s graceful flight, the angel’s name lingering on his lips like a whispered wish. A soft breeze rustled the leaves above, and the new apple shimmered, as if the tree itself was smiling down at the beginning of something beautiful.

~#~

Adam carefully pulled himself up the great, ancient branches of the Tree of Life, his giggles lost in the whispering leaves. His fingers found familiar grooves in the bark as he ascended, though today there was an odd, fluttering sensation deep in his belly—something unfamiliar, something strange. Adam couldn’t place it, but the higher he climbed, the stronger it grew.

Finally, he reached a particular branch, his instincts guiding him. There, nestled among the leaves, was something new. A shimmering, red apple that sparkled like a jewel against the golden sunlight. Adam’s large, golden eyes widened in surprise. He’d never seen an apple like this before—it was radiant, almost glowing, with an unmistakable energy pulsing from within. Tiny, ethereal hearts seemed to flicker inside the fruit, as if it were alive with some kind of magic.

Gently, Adam extended a hand, brushing his fingertips over the apple’s surface. It responded instantly, pulsing warmly under his touch. His breath hitched, and a flush of red crept up his cheeks, the blush burning brightly across his face.

“What... is this apple?” Adam whispered to himself. He knew each apple on this tree was born from his experiences, his emotions, but what could this one mean? What feeling had been awakened inside him?

Before he could ponder further, a sudden voice, full of mischief, broke the quiet.

“Boo!”

Adam squealed, startled, losing his grip on the branch. His arms flailed as he wobbled and then, with a small yelp, he tumbled from the tree.

But instead of hitting the ground, he landed in a pair of familiar, strong arms. Lucifer’s bell-like laughter rang out as he cradled Adam like a bride, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you miss me, Addie?” Lucifer teased, flashing a mischievous grin.

“Luci!” Adam huffed, smacking the angel playfully on the shoulder. His heart raced, still recovering from the surprise. “I told you not to sneak up on me like that!”

Lucifer giggled, his wings fluttering playfully as he spun them through the air, holding Adam securely. The gentle twirl made Adam whine, kicking his legs in protest.

“Put me down!” Adam pouted, squirming in Lucifer’s arms. “You know I don’t like it when you do this!”

Lucifer, grinning like the playful troublemaker he was, nuzzled against the side of Adam’s flushed cheek.

“But you make the cutest expressions, Addie~” he sang sweetly, delighting in Adam’s blushing face.

“S-Shut up!” Adam whimpered, his cheeks now a brilliant shade of red, as if competing with the apple he'd just seen.

Nearby, Cain, ever the jealous peacock, hissed and spat angrily at the angel. Lucifer’s face darkened with mock seriousness as he held Adam tighter, his possessive streak shining through.

“You know, Cain,” Lucifer said in a sing-song voice, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “At this rate, I just might run away with Addie~”

He whistled softly, pretending to consider it. “I could kidnap him, and you'd never see him again~”

Cain squawked furiously, his red and black feathers puffing up in outrage, the proud bird flapping his wings aggressively.

Adam sighed, exasperated, glancing between Lucifer and the indignant peacock. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Stop teasing Cain. No wonder he doesn’t like you!”

Lucifer gasped in exaggerated disbelief. “Oi! I didn’t do anything! He’s the one who attacked me first!”

Despite his protests, Lucifer landed gently on the grass, a safe distance from Cain, who still eyed him suspiciously. With a cheeky grin, Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the huffy bird.

“He’s just jealous cause you like someone else more than him now!”

Adam’s face grew even redder at that comment, his gaze flicking nervously to Cain, who puffed up even more as if to challenge Lucifer’s claim. The poor man let out a sheepish laugh, trying to diffuse the tension as he stepped away from Lucifer’s teasing hold.

Lucifer, ever the opportunist, plopped down next to Abel, the gentle and quiet peacock of the flock. Abel wasted no time snuggling into Lucifer’s lap, cooing softly as the angel stroked his delicate pink and white feathers. A soft smile graced Lucifer’s face as he lovingly groomed Abel, his usual mischievousness replaced by tenderness.

“At least Abel likes me~” Lucifer cooed, his fingers working through the bird’s feathers with care. Abel purred in contentment, nuzzling into the angel’s hands, a perfect contrast to his fiery brother Cain.

Adam couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his heart warming at the gentle scene. Despite Lucifer’s playful antics, there was a softness to him—a sweetness that made Adam’s chest ache in the most wonderful way.

Since the moment Lucifer had first appeared in Hera's garden, he'd kept his word, sneaking back time and time again to visit Adam. Each meeting brought new stories—mostly rants about Steve's awful behavior or Lilith's brilliant inventions—but no matter the topic, Lucifer always seemed most eager simply to be with Adam. And Adam, too, found himself looking forward to their time together, that strange feeling in his chest growing more intense with each encounter.

Adam found himself watching Lucifer more often than he cared to admit. The angel was captivating, and there was something undeniably charming about his mischievous nature, his radiant blue eyes framed by his golden curls, the way his six wings fluttered when he laughed.

One afternoon, as they sat together in the shade of the Tree of Life, Adam found himself gazing a bit too long. Lucifer, who never missed a chance to tease, grinned and caught Adam’s stare.

"Do you like what you see?" Lucifer teased, winking smugly as he leaned back with an air of confidence. "Because I like what I see too~"

Adam’s cheeks flamed, turning a deep shade of red as he looked away, flustered. He scratched at his warm cheek and gathered his thoughts, finally turning back to Lucifer, his heartbeat fluttering. Something had been bothering him for a while, and it was time to ask.

"Luci," Adam began, his voice more serious than usual. "What were you doing by my tree back then?"

Lucifer, who had been gently grooming Abel's feathers, froze mid-motion. His expression shifted from playful to confused. "Huh?" He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "What do you mean?"

Adam frowned, sitting up straighter. The air between them felt different—heavier. "Before Cain attacked you," Adam clarified, locking eyes with Lucifer. "What were you doing near the Apples of Life?"

For a moment, Lucifer said nothing. His mouth opened, then closed again, as if struggling to find the right words. His wings, normally so full of energy, sagged slightly. Adam’s heart clenched with worry, sensing something deeper beneath the angel’s hesitation.

"Lucifer..." Adam’s voice grew firmer, almost trembling. "What were you doing by the tree?"

Lucifer swallowed thickly, avoiding Adam’s gaze. "I... I was going to take the Apple of Knowledge."

A shocked gasp escaped Adam’s lips. He shot to his feet, his golden eyes wide with horror.

"You what?!"

Lucifer winced at the sudden outburst, his wings shrinking around him in defines. "I—It wasn’t like that!" he stammered, though he couldn’t quite meet Adam’s eyes.

"Lucifer!" Adam’s voice shook with disbelief, his heart racing in his chest. "You were going to steal one of my apples?! The Apple of Knowledge?"

The significance of the apple weighed heavy on Adam’s mind. He knew its power, its ability to alter the course of those who consumed it. The thought of Lucifer—his Lucifer—doing such a thing shook him to his core.

"I didn’t know you then!" Lucifer defended, his tone quieter, guilt lining his voice. "I didn’t know about you or the garden... I thought it was just a place of power. I didn’t know how much it meant, Adam. I swear!"

His blue eyes finally met Adam's, filled with something like regret. "I was only trying to... to help."

Adam’s heart ached as he saw the turmoil in Lucifer’s expression. His anger flickered, softened by the angel’s sincerity, but confusion still clouded his thoughts.

"Help?" Adam’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Help with what?"

Lucifer looked away, his hands gripping his robes. "Steve. Lilith."

His voice was low and bitter. "They were... are so miserable. Steve controls everything. He suffocates her, takes from her. I thought if I could take the Apple of Knowledge... maybe they could see what’s really happening. Maybe things could change."

Lucifer kept his gaze on the ground, shame flickering across his face. "I thought it was the only way to help them. But when I met you, when I saw the tree... I knew I couldn’t do it. That’s why I stopped. That’s why I never took the apple."

"You’re not like him," Lucifer whispered. "You’re not like Steve. You care, you’re different, you’re....I just wanted to give Lilith freedom, to be able to make her own choices and…"

Adam’s heart pounded painfully in his chest. Even though he’d heard Lucifer’s reasoning, the anger still simmered beneath the surface, but worse than the anger was the hurt—the deep, sharp ache that crept into his chest, making it hard to breathe. The thought of what Lucifer had said, of what he had almost done, spiralled in Adam’s mind, filling it with fear and doubt.

Tears welled up in Adam’s golden eyes, blurring his vision. His voice trembled as he spoke, barely above a whisper, "So… is that the only reason you visit me? To gain my trust? So, you could pluck one of my apples for Lilith?"

Lucifer’s head snapped around; his blue eyes wide with shock.

"What? No!" he shook his head furiously. He gently moved Abel off his lap and stood quickly, trying to close the distance between them.

Desperation crept into his voice. "Adam, no—please. That wasn’t it. I wasn’t trying to trick you!"

Adam jerked his hands away before Lucifer could touch them, pulling back like he’d been burned. Cain, ever protective, hissed viciously and leapt between them, feathers puffed in rage. Adam’s lips quivered as he gasped, his voice trembling with raw pain.

"Trick? You were trying to trick me?"

Lucifer froze, horrified. "No! No, that’s not what I meant!"

His voice broke as he shook his head, panic and regret twisting his features. "I chose the wrong words. Adam, I wasn’t trying to trick you—I swear it."

But Adam was already spiralling, the flood of emotions overwhelming him. His vision blurred as tears spilled down his cheeks, hot and unrelenting. He blinked, shocked by the intensity of his feelings, of how much it hurt.

"Lucifer…" he whispered, voice catching in his throat. "Why?"

Lucifer's heart clenched painfully at the sight of Adam’s tears. He had never seen Adam cry before. His Adam, the boy with the golden eyes who beamed brighter than the sun—now crumbling before him. Desperation surged through Lucifer’s veins.

"Adam, please," he begged, stepping forward despite Cain’s hissing. "Please listen to me!"

But Adam shook his head, turning his back on the angel, trying in vain to wipe his tears away. He could barely breathe, his chest tight with shame and confusion.

My mother will be so disappointed," he whispered brokenly. "For letting you in… for letting an intruder get so close to the tree, to me—and I didn’t even tell her." His voice cracked, the weight of it crushing him.

Lucifer stepped forward again, wings trembling with the urge to fix it, to explain. "No, Adam, it’s not like that—"

Adam was barely listening. His mind spun with the memories of every conversation, every rant Lucifer had about Lilith, about how he wanted to help her. It made his heart ache in a way he didn’t fully understand.

"You… you were trying to help Lilith?" Adam whimpered; his voice thick with emotion. He glanced up at Lucifer, his eyes wet and vulnerable. "You’re always so happy when you talk about her…"

Lucifer's wings jerked in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to respond. The accusation hung in the air like a heavy weight, and confusion flashed across Lucifer's face. He cared about Lilith, yes—but this wasn’t about her.

But Adam couldn't bear the uncertainty. It felt like a dagger twisting in his chest, burning with every heartbeat. He shook his head furiously, a sob breaking free from his throat as he stepped back, further away from Lucifer.

"You never cared about me, did you?" Adam cried out, voice cracking under the weight of his heartbreak. His golden eyes were wide and desperate. "You were just using me. To help her, weren't you?"

"No!" he pleaded, his voice breaking with the force of his denial. Lucifer flinched as if he had been struck.

He surged forward, reaching out to grab Adam’s arm, to hold onto him, to stop him from slipping away—but Cain lunged, screeching furiously, forcing Lucifer to retreat.

Adam’s heart pounded as he watched the angel flinch back, his chest heaving with the weight of his sobs. He breathed deeply, trying to steady himself, but the pain was too much. Looking Lucifer in the eye, Adam’s voice came out in a whisper, trembling and full of finality.

"You should leave."

The words hit Lucifer like a blow. He felt the sharp sting of them deep in his chest, and for the first time, he truly understood how much it hurt to see Adam like this—to see him in so much pain because of him.

"Adam, please..." he begged, his voice raw, wings drooping with the weight of his guilt. "Please listen to me…"

But Adam only turned away, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"Go," he whispered again, his voice barely holding together. “Just go away.”

Lucifer’s hands trembled as he pressed his lips together, his heart heavy with a grief he had never known. He nodded slowly, giving in to Adam’s wish, even though every part of him wanted to stay, to fight, to fix this. He hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, he could come back when Adam wasn’t so sad, when things weren’t so broken.

He raised himself into the air, his wings fluttering weakly as he prepared to leave. But just as he was about to fly away, Adam called out one last time, his voice broken and fragile.

"Lucifer…"

Lucifer turned, hope flaring in his chest, only for it to shatter with Adam’s next words.

"Don’t come back."

It felt like the ground had fallen away beneath him. Lucifer hovered in the air, staring at Adam with wide, pained eyes. He wanted to scream, to protest, to tell Adam that he couldn’t leave him like this. But the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was watch as Adam stood there, tears streaming down his face, his golden eyes filled with a pain that made Lucifer’s heart break.

Swallowing hard, Lucifer nodded, his wings beating slowly as he turned away.

Adam collapsed to his knees with a sharp, broken gasp, the sound catching in his throat as the flood of emotions overwhelmed him. His golden eyes blurred completely with tears, spilling hot and unchecked down his flushed cheeks. His sobs wracked his body, each one pulling him deeper into the confusing, unbearable pain that clutched his chest. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know why it hurt this much, why the very thought of Lucifer leaving him, of never seeing him again, felt like a piece of his heart had been torn away.

Why did he care so much? Why did it feel like the world was crumbling around him for an angel he hadn’t even known until a few short years ago?

Yet, as Adam’s tears fell freely, the sorrow in his heart deepening with every ragged breath, he felt the soft fluttering of feathers and the gentle touch of his beloved peacocks. One by one, they swarmed around him, surrounding him in a cocoon of warmth and comfort, as if they too could feel the ache in their master’s heart.

Cain, with his fiery red and black plumage, pushed his way into Adam’s arms, nuzzling his sharp beak against Adam’s tear-streaked chest. He cooed softly, as if to say, I’m here, you’re not alone. Adam’s trembling hands instinctively reached out to hold the bird close, burying his fingers in Cain’s feathers. Cain had always been protective, always ready to hiss and snap at anyone who threatened Adam, but now he was gentle, quiet—his anger replaced by a deep empathy that mirrored the heartbreak in Adam’s soul.

Abel, his softer, more delicate counterpart, stood a short distance away, gazing mournfully in the direction Lucifer had flown. The usual brightness in his white and pink feathers dimmed as if he, too, felt the absence of the angel. Abel tilted his head, eyes filled with sadness, and let out a low, sorrowful trill, as though even he missed Lucifer already.

Adam’s sobs only grew louder as he held Cain tighter, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “Why does it hurt so much?”

His tears fell faster, dripping onto Cain’s feathers as he clutched the bird close, shaking his head in confusion. I don’t understand.

The pain in his heart was unlike anything he had ever felt. He had been happy in the garden—content in his simple existence, tending to the Tree of Life, surrounded by the peacocks and the beauty of Hera’s creation. He had known nothing of longing or love until Lucifer had appeared. And now… now, everything was tangled, broken, and raw.

The memories of Lucifer—his teasing smile, his playful winks, the way his blue eyes sparkled when he talked about Lilith—flashed through Adam’s mind, each one tightening the knot in his chest. A part of him had always known Lucifer was different, but never like this. Never so deeply that it left him breathless, left him aching when the angel wasn’t nearby.

Adam whimpered softly, wiping at his tears in vain as they continued to fall.

“Was it all a lie?” he choked out, staring blankly at the ground, his voice barely a whisper.

Did Lucifer ever really care about me? Or had he been nothing more than a tool, a way to get to the Apple of Knowledge? The thought made Adam’s heart shatter all over again.

Cain’s gentle nuzzles against his chest brought a flicker of comfort, but it wasn’t enough to erase the deep wound Lucifer had unknowingly left behind. Adam tried to steady his breathing, tried to stop the sobs from spilling out of him, but it was no use. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lucifer’s face—saw the moment his wings sagged under the weight of Adam’s rejection, saw the heartbreak reflected in his eyes when Adam told him to leave.

Cain cooed softly again, his feathers brushing against Adam’s tear-soaked face, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. But Adam’s chest still burned with the ache of loss, the confusion of feelings he couldn’t quite understand.

As Abel let out another low trill, Adam’s shoulders slumped, his body trembling. He buried his face into Cain’s feathers, allowing himself to fall apart under the weight of his emotions. For the first time in his life, Adam felt something more than simple happiness, more than curiosity about the world. He felt pain—raw, real, and overwhelming.

And in the quiet of Hera’s Garden, with only the sound of his sobs and the soft rustle of feathers around him, Adam realized just how deeply he had fallen for the angel who had stolen his heart.

Lucifer.

The one who was never supposed to come back.

“So, this is the love Aphrodite spoke off.”

The only red apple on the Tree of Life fell, landing softly on the ground behind Adam—glowing faintly, like a heart slowly fading into darkness.

~#~

Adam didn't know how long it had been since he’d cast Lucifer out of the garden. Days bled into months, each one stretching endlessly, empty and quiet. The only reminder of the angel’s presence was the red apple Adam now held in his hands, its vibrant hue stark against the muted backdrop of Hera’s Garden. He gazed down at it wearily, rolling it back and forth between his palms. The apple was still warm, though not with the overwhelming, electric pulse it had carried before—just a gentle heat that felt strangely alive, as though it held onto something from Lucifer.

With a sigh, Adam lifted his eyes to the branches above, wondering why it had fallen. What was the meaning of this strange, new apple? His golden eyes dimmed with the weight of the question. There was no answer. There was only the ache in his heart, a dull, ever-present pain that he had begun to accept as part of himself.

Carefully, Adam bent down and placed the apple between the roots of the Tree of Life, as though returning it to the earth might return something he had lost. He sat beside it, propping his elbows on his knees, and exhaled deeply.

Maybe Aphrodite is watching me now, he thought bitterly, his lips twisting into a sad smile.

The goddess of love, always revelling in the pain her craft brought. Was she somewhere, laughing at him? Delighting in the sight of his despair?

The greatest story, huh?

Adam sniffed, closing his eyes. He had stopped crying after the first few months, and now all that was left was the hollow emptiness, the slow, creeping acceptance that maybe his heart would never fully heal. It would have been better, easier, if he had never met Lucifer at all.

He was about to stand when a sudden warmth bloomed beside him, and he gasped in surprise. He turned his head, wide-eyed, only to be met with a vision of beauty so breathtaking that for a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, sat beside him, her presence like a shimmering sunset, her golden curls glowing as they tumbled down her back. Her smile was radiant, though there was something mischievous in the curve of her lips, something far too knowing. With a delicate touch, she brushed her fingertips along Adam’s cheek, leaving behind the faintest warmth that made him shudder. He snapped his head up in bewilderment, unsure whether to recoil or lean into her touch.

“Aphrodite…” he breathed, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

She chuckled softly, her laughter light and teasing. "Yes, my dear. You don't need to get up." She waved a graceful hand, and at her command, a bed of small pink flowers bloomed at her feet, delicate and heart-shaped, their petals hanging like tiny teardrops. Adam blinked, astonished, as he looked at them. He had never seen such flowers in Hera’s Garden before.

“What... what are these?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide in curiosity and grief.

Aphrodite smiled, her eyes glinting with amusement as she gestured to the flowers.

"Dicentras," she explained softly, “Also known as bleeding hearts. They symbolize heartbreak and the sorrow of losing someone you love.”

Adam’s heart clenched at her words. The beauty of the flowers seemed almost cruel in their meaning, a reflection of the ache deep in his chest. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the fresh wave of emotion that threatened to overcome him.

Of course, he thought bitterly. Of course, she would bring these.

“So?” Aphrodite questioned, something dangerously, something amused in the curve of her red lips. “How did you enjoy my Angel?”

“Angel? So…Lucifer really was the Angel…you swore me to secrecy?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. He glanced up at the goddess, his gaze sharp and full of pain. “Were you… were you proud of him?””

A laugh escaped the Goddess. “Oh, my sweet Addie, did you forget? Of course, Luci was my Angel~ I crafted him to be special for you~”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, and he looked at her with broken, disbelieving eyes. His heart twisted painfully in his chest.

“So… so you really were the one who made him?” His voice trembled. “You’re the reason he—”

The goddess cut him off with an airy wave of her hand. “Of course. You needed to experience love, didn’t you? It’s something Hera would never understand.”

Her eyes gleamed with a cruel kind of joy, a sickening delight at the heartache she had so carefully orchestrated.

Adam shook his head, tears threatening to well up again as he looked at her. This time, there was no awe in his gaze, only coldness—a bitterness that had taken root deep in his soul. Aphrodite seemed to revel in it, her eyes twinkling with delight.

“Why?” he asked, his voice hoarse with pain. “Why did you make me fall for him? For Lucifer? When he… when he loves someone else?”

Aphrodite tilted her head, her pink lips curling into a sly, knowing smile. Her golden curls shimmered in the light as she regarded Adam with a bemused expression.

“And how are you so sure,” she purred, “That Lucifer is in love with Lilith?”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion flaring. He took a defensive step back, shaking his head.

“This… this isn’t a show for you to marvel at,” he whispered, his voice thick with anger and grief. “My pain… it’s not your entertainment.”

Aphrodite threw her head back and laughed, the sound rich and joyful, echoing through the garden like the pealing of bells.

“Oh, my dear,” she said, reaching out as though to brush another strand of hair from Adam’s face, though he flinched away. “Your story isn’t over. Not yet. There is so much more to come, and I can hardly wait to witness it all.”

Adam’s breath hitched, the weight of her words settling heavily in his chest. He turned away, his gaze lingering on the heart-shaped flowers at his feet, their pink petals glistening like tears. His heart throbbed painfully, and though he knew Aphrodite was right—that his story wasn’t finished—he couldn’t help but wish it was.

Because, right now, he wasn’t sure he could take any more of this heartbreak.

“You know, Addie, perhaps forgiveness might be the key to something greater.” Aphrodite hinted knowingly. Her sharp blue eyes flickering towards the hidden Apple of Love. Her apple. “Maybe...you should consider taking a bite~”

Closing his eyes exhaustedly, Adam sighed. He didn’t want to be hurt again.

~#~

Adam tried to ignore the apple of love, the one Aphrodite had left behind like a cruel reminder. He wanted nothing more than to forget it existed, but his resolve weakened every time he returned to the Tree of Life. Despite Cain's watchful, disapproving gaze, Adam found himself holding the red apple in his hands, turning it over and over, its smooth surface warming under his touch.

He couldn't stop wondering about what Aphrodite had said. To bite the apple of love—what would happen to me? The thought was sinful, troubling, but it dug itself deep into his mind. What would Hera, his mother, say if she knew? Would she be disappointed, furious? Or was it destiny, like Aphrodite implied, to feel this pain, to be tempted by love’s impossible promise?

Adam sighed, resting his forehead against his knees as he sat beneath the sprawling branches. The apple's warmth soothed him, but it also gnawed at his thoughts, pulling him into dangerous territory. He found himself questioning more than just his own feelings.

Why can’t anyone take an apple from the Tree of Life? The question spiraled inside him, growing heavier. Why wasn’t Lucifer allowed to take the apple of knowledge? If they were forbidden, then why did they exist at all? Adam furrowed his brow, his chest tightening with the weight of it all. Hera had once said that the tree would be used for mankind in the future, but why wasn’t he allowed to take from it now?

Adam shook his head, trying to shake off the unease, but his thoughts continued to spiral. He was absentmindedly playing with the fallen apple of love when something unexpected happened—something that made his heart skip a beat.

Lucifer had returned.

Adam didn’t hear him at first. Lucifer moved like a shadow, carefully avoiding the attention of the peacocks that lounged about the garden. He knew they wouldn’t take kindly to him, especially not after Adam had told him to leave. And Cain—Cain would be even worse. Lucifer’s wings twitched nervously at the thought of another encounter with the fiery bird.

But he had to try. He had to see Adam. His heart hadn’t been the same since the day Adam had cast him out. The pain of it had gnawed at him relentlessly, and no matter how many times he’d told himself to stay away, he couldn’t. He needed to make Adam understand.

Lucifer landed softly, his gaze darting across the garden. He froze when he saw one of the peacocks watching him, its feathers rippling like a threat. Lucifer’s wings tensed, ready to defend himself. But then the bird stepped out from the shadows, revealing itself to be Abel, his soft pink and white feathers gleaming in the moonlight.

Lucifer sighed in relief; his breath shaky. He crouched down to Abel’s height, whispering urgently, “I’m not here to hurt him, Abel. I just need to see him. Please... My heart hasn’t been the same since that day.”

Abel stared up at him with eyes full of hurt and distrust, his wings twitching as though he could hardly bear to look at Lucifer. But as Lucifer knelt closer, his voice softer, he pleaded, “I know you’re disappointed in me. I didn’t mean to hurt him, Abel. I didn’t. I’m going to make it right. I just need your help.”

For a long, agonizing moment, Abel’s feathers bristled. Lucifer thought for sure the peacock would turn away or call Cain to attack him, but to his surprise, Abel eventually nodded. Without a word, he turned and led Lucifer toward the Tree of Life. Lucifer followed cautiously, his heart pounding with hope.

Abel doesn’t hate me, he thought. There’s still a chance.

As they neared the great tree, Lucifer's breath caught in his throat. The Tree of Life had grown larger, its branches sprawling even more majestically than before. But his blue eyes didn’t linger on the tree for long. All he could focus on was Adam.

Adam sat beneath the tree, bathed in the soft golden light of the sunset, the red apple resting in his hands. Lucifer’s chest tightened at the sight of him. He looked so lost, so fragile, and yet... so beautiful. Lucifer could hardly breathe.

For a moment, he simply watched, unsure of how to approach. But then, a furious squawk shattered the silence, and Lucifer barely managed to dodge as Cain swooped down, claws extended. Lucifer braced for impact, but Abel was faster. In a blur of white feathers, Abel pinned his brother to the ground, shocking both Adam and Lucifer.

Adam blinked in disbelief, his golden eyes wide as Abel casually settled himself atop Cain, keeping him from attacking. Cain struggled beneath him, hissing and spitting, but it was no use—Abel wasn’t moving.

Both Adam and Lucifer stared at each other, frozen in place, neither saying a word. Time seemed to stretch between them, the weight of their unspoken words filling the air. Adam’s hands trembled, and before he could stop himself, the red apple slipped from his fingers, tumbling across the grass.

Lucifer moved instinctively, reaching down to pick it up before Adam could. His fingers brushed over the apple’s smooth surface, and for a moment, the two of them were caught in another staring contest, the apple cradled in Lucifer’s hands like a fragile connection between them.

Adam swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the apple and then back to Lucifer.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, though his voice lacked the conviction it once held.

“I know,” Lucifer said softly, his gaze never leaving Adam’s face. “But I had to come. I couldn’t stay away.”

Adam’s heart wavered, torn between the hurt he still felt and the undeniable pull of his feelings for the angel.

“Why... why now?” he asked, his voice breaking.

Lucifer hesitated, his eyes flickering with something raw, something that looked almost like pain. “Because I need you to know... it wasn’t about the apple. It wasn’t about anything else. It was always about you, Adam. I came back for you.”

Adam’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his resolve crumbled. But then, as the apple lay between them, he remembered Aphrodite’s words, the cruel twist of fate that had brought them here. His eyes darkened with the weight of it all.

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Adam whispered, his voice filled with a sadness that made Lucifer’s chest ache.

The silence between them stretched on, heavy and uncertain, as the red apple gleamed in Lucifer’s hands, a reminder of the love and heartbreak that now bound them together.

Lucifer inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as if the weight of the moment pressed against him. His voice was soft, tender, as though he feared breaking the fragile thread between them. “You’re half right,” he began, eyes never leaving Adam’s weary gaze.

Adam turned his head slightly, exhaustion evident in the lines of his face. The pain was still fresh, raw. It was too much, and Lucifer could see it, could feel it hanging heavy in the air between them.

“I thought I was in love with Lilith,” Lucifer admitted, his words trembling like a confession long buried. “I thought... what I felt for her was love. I did come to take the Apple of Knowledge to give to her.”

Adam’s body tensed at the reminder, his heart sinking with a familiar ache. He began to turn away, not wanting to hear more, not wanting to be drawn into Lucifer’s honeyed words again. He had fallen for them before, only to be left shattered.

But Lucifer approached him delicately, his fingers cradling the red apple of love as if it were something sacred. His voice dropped to a whisper, laced with vulnerability. “It couldn’t have been love, because the moment I met you, Adam... you changed everything. You turned my world upside down.”

Adam tried to steady his breath, forcing his attention elsewhere. His fingers dug into the grass beneath him as if trying to anchor himself, trying to resist the pull of Lucifer’s presence. But it was hard. So hard.

Lucifer kneeled beside him, his movements slow and careful, as though approaching a wounded animal. His fingers brushed against Adam’s chin, soft and deliberate, turning Adam’s face toward his own. Their eyes met, and Adam found himself lost again in those endless blue depths—depths that once felt like home but now felt dangerous.

“I fell in love with you,” Lucifer whispered, the words trembling with sincerity. “The real reason I kept sneaking into the garden wasn’t to take anything—it was to see you. I couldn’t stay away. I needed to be near you. I loved the way you looked at me, the way you spoke, the way you made me feel alive.”

Adam’s heart clenched, the familiar pang of betrayal fighting against the undeniable pull Lucifer still had over him. He tried to harden himself, to block it out. But Lucifer’s hand moved gently to his own, guiding it toward his chest, pressing it there.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise as he felt it—Lucifer’s heart, racing beneath his hand. A wild, frantic beat that seemed to mirror the chaos within Adam’s own chest.

“I’ve been in agony since you told me to leave,” Lucifer continued, his voice low and pleading. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to come back every moment, to hold you, to make things right.”

Adam shook his head, his throat tight. “I can’t believe you,” he whispered, the weight of disbelief and longing tearing at his resolve.

Lucifer’s grip on his hand tightened gently, his blue eyes piercing through Adam’s uncertainty.

“But you named me,” he said, his voice barely above a breath, filled with a kind of awe. “No one’s ever named me before. Steve, Lilith—they tried, but I never accepted it. I hated every name that was given to me. But the name you gave me, ‘Luci’... it felt right.”

Adam blinked, his heart faltering as he stared at Lucifer. “I... I don’t understand,” he murmured, confused by the depth of emotion in Lucifer’s voice.

“We were always meant to find each other,” Lucifer said, his tone firm with conviction. “I didn’t realize it then, but I do now. You were meant to name me. We were always meant to be... together.”

Adam’s lips parted, but no words came. His mind was spinning, his emotions a tangled mess of pain, anger, and something he didn’t want to admit. Lucifer's words, his presence—it all broke through the walls he had tried so hard to build.

Lucifer’s gaze softened as he looked down at the red apple still in his hand. His voice was gentle as he asked, “What is this apple, Adam?”

Adam’s breath caught, his throat tight as he whispered, “It’s Aphrodite’s apple. The apple of love.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “I didn’t know...”

“I didn’t know my mother had an apple like this,” he said softly, as though the revelation meant something deeper to him.

Tears brimmed in Adam’s eyes again, the ache in his chest becoming unbearable. He looked at Lucifer, feeling so utterly broken, but so desperate for something—anything—to make sense.

Lucifer moved closer, his hand finding Adam’s cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped free. The touch was tender, comforting in a way that made Adam want to cry even harder. Then, with a determined glint in his eye, Lucifer brought the apple of love to his lips. He bit into its soft, pink flesh, a burst of sweetness filling his mouth.

Before Adam could react, Lucifer leaned in, his breath warm against Adam’s trembling lips. And then, in one swift, overwhelming moment, their lips met.

The kiss was soft at first, but intense, and it wasn’t just the sensation of their mouths coming together—it was something deeper, something that felt like their very souls were intertwining. The taste of the apple lingered on their lips, sweet and intoxicating, but there was something more to it—something powerful.

Adam’s heart raced, his mind whirling, as he realized what was happening. This wasn’t just a kiss. It was something more, something that tied them together in a way he hadn’t expected. His body trembled, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

Lucifer pulled him closer, his arms wrapping around him protectively as if he was afraid to ever let go again.

“I love you, Adam,” he whispered against his lips. “I always have. We’re meant to be together.”

The words echoed in Adam’s mind, breaking through every barrier he had built. It was painful, bittersweet, and yet... it felt real. It felt like something he had been searching for his entire life.

Tears slipped from his eyes as he pulled back slightly, breathless and trembling. He looked into Lucifer’s eyes, searching for any sign of falsehood, but all he saw was sincerity. Love.

And in that moment, Adam realized—he couldn’t fight it anymore. This love, this connection—it was undeniable. Heartbreaking and beautiful all at once.

He had fallen. They both had, just as Aphrodite had intended for them to be.

~#~

Adam trembled, his whole body aching with pure agony and pain, a sensation that gripped him tightly as he lay amidst the red and black waxy ground of the abyss. He wheezed sharply, struggling to push himself up, his muscles quaking as he slowly looked up through the misty redness swirling above him. The ceiling loomed overhead like a dark shroud, an oppressive weight pressing down upon him.

He had just been punished. The harsh reality of Hera’s wrath still lingered in his bones, an electric reminder of the fury that had rained down upon him. She had towered over him, a goddess with eyes like storm clouds, her face contorted with rage. Adam had shrunk within himself, her anger crackling in the air like lightning, each word she hurled at him igniting a deeper sense of despair. Even now, he struggled to comprehend what he had done that was so wrong. He had given the Apple of Knowledge to Lucifer after a passionate night spent entwined in each other’s arms, and in the aftermath, Lucifer had promised to bring it to the humans in Eden, swearing he would return. But he hadn’t.

Instead, the heavens had descended upon him with a wrath that felt all-consuming. Hera, in her fury, had punished him severely, casting him into this endless abyss, where Adam hit the ground painfully.

“Since you love the forsaken angel so dearly, then you can join him in the pit of sins,” she had hissed, her words curling around him like smoke.

The memories of that moment clawed at his heart, echoing in the silence of his surroundings.

But then, suddenly, a voice cut through the haze, calling his name, a lifeline thrown into the chaos. Adam barely managed to turn his head as someone flew through the crimson mist toward him. Lucifer landed gracefully, urgency etched on his face, and raced toward Adam, gathering him up in his arms.

“Adam!” Lucifer’s voice was a mixture of relief and despair, and Adam fought to focus on his face, but darkness soon claimed him, pulling him under until he fell unconscious.

When Adam awoke, he found himself enveloped in something he had never experienced before. A bed, soft and welcoming, adorned with royal purple sheets and quilts that wrapped around him like a cocoon. Red curtains framed the bed, creating an intimate sanctuary amidst the chaos he had known. The walls were a deep royal red, patterned with shades of purple, and everywhere he looked, he was met with a surprising sight—rubber ducks. Each one was unique, scattered around the room like tiny pieces of joy.

Curiosity nudged him, and he slowly moved to slip off the bed, but his legs buckled beneath him, sending him teetering toward the ground. Just then, Lucifer appeared beside him, hurrying to catch Adam before he fell. His red and gold eyes pulsed with worry, a contrast to the vibrant hues of the room.

“Are you okay?” Lucifer whispered; his voice laced with tenderness.

Adam stared at Lucifer’s face, taking in the details as if he were memorizing a masterpiece. “You look different,” he said softly, his brow furrowing.

Lucifer’s cheeks flushed with a hint of shyness, and he brushed a hand through his slicked-back hair.

“Do you think I’m gross now?” he asked, vulnerability threading through his words.

Adam shook his head vigorously, his heart swelling with warmth. “Of course not! You’re still beautiful,” he replied, a sincerity behind his voice that resonated deep within him.

A sigh of relief escaped Lucifer’s lips, and he leaned in to kiss Adam again, the gesture sweet and filled with longing.

As their lips parted, he whispered against Adam’s mouth, “But you’ve changed too.”

Adam frowned in confusion; his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

Lucifer hesitated for a moment, his expression conflicted, before he took Adam’s hand and led him toward a mirror standing elegantly against the wall. When Adam caught sight of himself, his breath hitched in his throat, the reflection revealing a form he hardly recognized.

His cheeks were rounder, dusted with a soft pink tint that glowed with life. But what truly captivated him were the magnificent wings cascading down his back—long and plush, they fluttered softly with a mesmerizing gradient of green and blue, interwoven with hints of orange. They resembled the regal plumes of a peacock, each feather alive with shimmering eyes that sparkled in gold, purple, and orange, echoing the vibrant hues sprouting from his hair.

“Lucifer!” he gasped; his eyes wide with astonishment. “I look like a peacock!”

Lucifer chuckled softly, a glimmer of pride in his gaze. “You’re gorgeous, Adam. You always have been.”

The two exchanged a long, loving look, the connection between them deepening, unbreakable. But then, concern seeped into Adam’s expression, and he asked, “What happened?”

Lucifer sighed deeply, shaking his head as he led Adam back to the bed. They crawled under the quilts, seeking comfort in each other’s warmth.

“After you picked the Apple of Knowledge,” he began, his voice heavy with sorrow, “you gave it to Lilith. At first, nothing happened. The other angels were furious and created a new wife for Steve—a woman named Eve. But then Lilith wanted to free Eve too and tried to give the apple to her. Eve accepted it and bit into it.”

Adam listened intently, his heart pounding as he grasped the gravity of what had transpired. “What happened next?” he asked, gently caressing Lucifer’s cheek, the fallen angel leaning into the touch.

Lucifer’s expression darkened as he continued, “I don’t know why Zeus showed himself then, but when he did, he was furious. He cast Eve out of Eden, and Steve... he must really love her because he decided to leave Eden to be with Eve.”

Silence enveloped them, and Adam could feel the weight of it pressing against him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Lucifer, to reassure him that everything would be alright.

“That’s why you didn’t come back,” Adam said quietly, realization dawning upon him.

Lucifer nodded; his expression tormented. “Every day down here was torture. I wanted to come back to you, Adam. I was so worried about what the gods would do to you.”

Adam swallowed hard, the ache in his heart deepening. “Hera was furious. She was even more enraged when she discovered I had actually given you the apple.”

A look of pain crossed Lucifer’s face, and he clenched his jaw. “I hate them,” he said bitterly. “I hate the gods. Even my own mother, Aphrodite.”

Adam leaned in, kissing him sweetly, a soft gesture meant to soothe the wounds that ran deep between them. But then, as he pulled back, a troubling thought entered his mind—the realization that Lilith was down here too, and there was a possibility he could meet her.

Lucifer sensed the shift in Adam’s emotions, and he tightened his arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Lilith created a castle for herself,” he reassured softly. “We can visit her later. But for now, I just want to be with you.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and the spoke of the mansion he had created for them, with its glorious apple tree garden, hope shining in his eyes.

“I hope you’ll like it,” he said, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

Adam nuzzled his bird-like face against Lucifer’s, his heart swelling with affection.

“I’m sure I will,” he murmured. “And this time, we can pick all the apples we want.”

Lucifer grinned at that, a smile breaking through the weight of their shared sorrows. In that moment, the abyss that had once threatened to swallow them whole felt a little less suffocating, a little more like a place where they could forge a new beginning together. The pain and heartbreak would always be a part of them, but so too would be love—a love that was fierce, tender, and unyielding.

"Yes! Let's pick all the apples with want!"

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #fanfic #lucifer x adam #guitarduck #au #fanficiton #adamsapple harvest #adamsapple month #apple picking #for adamsapple fans!#peacocks #gods and goddesses

48 notes · View notes

goodolddumbbanana · 11 days ago

Text

[Nexus & Sun] See you in the dream fic

@zampop2 I love Sun and Nexus brother relationship and also want more Sun and Nexus fic. And your arts sometimes make me cry. So here is my fic.

------

It always started with Sun holding the bottle.

The glass glinted in his silver eyes, the soft clinking reminding Sun of an old time, of blues and oranges and televisions and soft blankets.

The lights were dim and the cats were meowing, and the doors in the house were always wide open.

The sky was a gloomy shade of gray, like a storm and rain, the stars and moon were invisible. Only the black of midnight was like a gloomy old cage, squeezing his metaphorical heart and twisting it until he felt an inexplicable pain.

The soft orange of the spotlights, illuminating the room into something gloomy with only the buttercup-colored animatronic alone.

The space was silent except for the steady tapping of the pendulum and the honking wheels of the running clock, and the steady dripping of water from the sink. The TV was on, playing a cutscene of some game Sun couldn’t remember, with faint sounds of dialogue that sounded like it was from the 80s.

It was like a videotape that had been ripped apart, and Sun was the ember that had ruined the frame.

It was as if his head was stuffed and his hands were submerged in water, as if the world had died and only he and that person existed.

They were shimmering, pale and fragile like a wick drained of oil, like trying to catch a ball at their feet or looking at the surface of a lake on a windy day.

“You lost again, Sun.”

Their chuckles. The warm light melted their faces into something forgettable, only the ruby red mixes with old blood color were like a scalpel neatly slicing into Sun’s heart, reminding him that this was just an illusion.

The nightcap, long or short that he couldn’t remember clearly, was completely out of his sight, lying monotonously on their shoulders. The deep lavender suit, with its intricate patterns, momentarily blurred back into the familiar gray metal plating and the blue silk ribbons that had once been symmetrical to him.

Was it a reminder of the past or had the past never left Sun?

Time seemed to stop and his face was cold and his chest was hot and he wanted to cry.

“Ah– I’m sorry.” Sun didn’t know what he was apologizing for, he just spoke in a trembling voice, his hands clutching the remote control like a child would clutch a worn-out teddy bear instead of looking to his parents for comfort.

“Is something wrong, Sun? Oh come on, just tell me.”

Their innocent softness and care that Sun had tried to wash away from his own mind, so that it wouldn’t hurt him to pick up any fragments of them that remained, suddenly flooded back like an artery torn apart by cold fate.

Their faces were twisted in worry, and for a moment he could forget how cruel that smile could be or how those eyes could look at him like he was just a screw loose on the side of the road.

Like he was nothing, like he was just a zero. Like everything they did could be justified, like not everything they protected and were proud of had been sunk into the mud pit called their own pride and ego.

There was a sing-song clatter of machinery as they slowly rose, pushing themselves off the sofa and moving toward him. The jingle of bells rang in Sun's ears, and the smell of something like oil and something sweet and intoxicating as they drew closer, their hands intertwined with his, something tender and fragile like a fleeting butterfly.

When the seagull blue of their lapels was all Sun could see, blending like the ripples of the beach house they had lived in.

They were always gentle until all Sun could pick up from them were broken glass.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

The voice was like silver bells and reeds caressing his heart.

And Sun wanted to. Sun wanted so much. He wanted to cry, he wanted to hold the other tightly, he wanted to tear apart the perfect image he had always imagined of the other when everything was peaceful and nothing was lost, tear it like a bandage on a festering wound until all the ugliness inside poured out like retribution for everything they had done.

But he couldn’t. Because they were here. With him.

Not yet evil. Not yet abandoned their family.

Not yet so mad and stressed that they threw away their own hearts.

This was just a dream. A dream. So he could call them freely, hold their names in his mouth like something precious instead of spitting it out like something that would break his chest and make his teeth bleed.

Moon. Nexus. New Moon. Whatever they wanted to call themselves, they were still his brothers, still his to love.

He could still press his head against their shoulders, grip the soft fabric and squeeze them into a suffocating hug, and feel like nothing could hurt him. And not feel like he would be betraying his own family by doing so.

He could still take their shoulders, wrap his arms around them possessively, to let them know he was there, to let them know how much he loved them.

To know that they had him and he had them.

The care and affection Sun had never been able to put into words, in this moment, existed in a way that Sun couldn’t leave their hands.

It was cold, bland metal. Cold like ice and dead bodies.

Of course, they were machines. They couldn’t produce any warmth.

But Sun still pressed their hands to his cheek, head bowed in worship, eyes watery and kissing the bones desperately, as a fool's way of keeping them stay here with him.

‘I love you, I love you, can you come back, please?’

He said it like a plea. He said it like the universe would turn around on its head, to make Nexus come back, to be part of the family again.

To make this moment last forever, so he wouldn't wake up feeling empty and aching like a limb had been amputated, like a part of him hadn't died again since the day he and Earth faced them.

"It's all your fault." They hummed, still holding him gently and lovingly in their arms. Their voices were still soft as lullabies, of sea foam and the bleak blackness that haunted the cell he had once locked them in. “Maybe if you hadn’t pushed me so hard, maybe I’d still be here.”

“I know.” Sun cracked, eyes still closed.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so scared of Moon and tried harder, I’d still be here.”

The dim light draped over Nexus like a curtain, preventing Sun from seeing their expressions. It was ironic because he wouldn’t look either. He couldn’t look, didn’t want to look.

Only the warmth he tried to fake was taking from Nexus’ embrace, the desperation mixed with hope bitter as salt and soap, of promises that would never come true and demands that he leave them out of fear.

Sun had always been a coward to the core.

“I know.” And he sobbed, sobbed, and sobbed.

With his hand firmly wrapped around Nexus’s waist, as if to pin everything that made them to his chest, so he could pamper and care for them like the innocent gaze they had once only directed at Sun the first time they met him.

Cold, It’s so cold. It was like he was drowning, and the person in front of him happened to be the lifeline that was also pulling him down.

“I love you and you could never even put me first. I was always second to everything to you. And when I needed you the most, you retreated and crawled in a sick and cowardly shell, too consumed with your self-loathing.”

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself, Sun.”

“And I’m tired, too tired to keep fixing the mess you made.”

“Ah– It sucks… Because I could cry if I were real. If I am truly Nexus and not yourself.”

They whispered cruel words as they played with his rays. As their hands wiped away his tears and held him steady in his panicked trembling. As their warmth was the only thing that kept Sun from feeling like he was about to die.

They were a beacon in the storm as well as a grave for the mistakes Sun kept making.

“You know what the worst part is? Even in your dreams, you don’t want to spend time with me. You always watch me from afar, watch me talk to Earth or argue with Solar like I’ll never get close.”

“Even when we play games, you can’t make yourself believe that this is real, that I’m back. That I’m good.”

“You’re so afraid you’ll destroy me, even though you’ve learned to love me so much. Isn’t it ironic that your love is the thing that hurts me the most now Sun?”

The silence stretched along with a soft sigh.

“Tell me, am I not worth your time, Sun?”

Their voices echoed like the sound of falling rain and Bloodmoon’s insane laughter. Of the times Sun felt like he was doing more harm than good and unconsciously pushed Nexus further away. Of the empty but gratifying feeling of seeing Nexus befriend someone other than Sun, of feeling like he was no longer put on a high pedestal, something that was meant to be good, like Moon always put Sun there.

They pulled him up, their hands pressed to Sun’s cheeks. The metal clanged against each other. Their eyes reflected the stars and the stars, blurred like paintings on sand.

Did he start to forget what they used to look like?

“I’ve always been just an ugly lesson you need to remember, right Sun?”

Somewhere, tears fell on Sun’s hands. Somewhere, broken glasses and the desperate sound of his brother crying in Sun’s arms until he passed out suddenly rushed back. Somewhere, Sun woke up, with oil on his cheeks and a wet pillow.

The default clock greeted Sun, the emptiness of the new day silently sending Sun through the two hands placed on Sun’s chest with streaks of sunlight.

The blanket was soft, and he curled up, taking a deep breath, his eyes swirling up to the ceiling.

The creamy color was smooth, warm like their laughter, soft like the ghosts of their hands still resting on Sun’s cheeks.

Forget it, forget it, Sun told himself, because he was fine. It was just a dream, just a reminder of what his weak heart had not given up on.

Nothing happened, he forced himself to wipe the unconscious greasy drops of oil from his hands onto the blanket, which he had to wash anyway.

Just a minute, a minute… and Sun would be back to normal. Good as new.

“I thought I could trust you!”

“Tell me Sun, I did everything for you, have you ever given me anything back?”

“You used me. And you threw me away like a rabid dog you no longer needed.”

“You hate yourself so much that you don’t notice you treat me no differently than Moon treats you.”

“You’re a terrible person,Sun.”

And he would repeat, repeat under his breath.

“I know, I know…”

I can only love you in my dreams

When your doe eyes are the only thing left in this dead world

When my love is not something that sucks blood

“I wonder if I didn’t exist, would you be happier.”

Sun sat up and shook his head, staring at his palms, fiddling with the bells and ribbons.

He whispered, fading and broken like a broken bond, like dreams and nightmares dancing together, like Sun's dripping care could only be counted on the fingers of one hand the moment it ran out.

Until next time, Nexus.

#sun and moon show #tsams #the sun and moon show #sams #tsams sun #tsams nexus

36 notes · View notes

lumiconic · 2 years ago

Text

things they remember

❥ summary: things they remember ab u and ur relationship!

❥ characters: diluc ; xiao ; thoma ; cyno ; arataki itto ; albedo ; tighnari ; venti

❥ content: fluff, gn reader

❥ note: just some cute fluff hcs!

… diluc remembers the smell of your hair, the intoxicating scent of apples and grapes that leaves him heady and dizzy, your face presses into his shoulder and his gloved hands twist through strands of your hair in a brief second of serene calm, and he inhales the most wonderful aroma that he wishes he could save forever so that all that clouded his mind was the thought of you, when he thinks back to his quietest, happiest moments, he remembers softness and sugar and apples and you.

… xiao remembers a color that gives him comfort, pearly, iridescent white, like almond tofu, misty opals, like puffs of your breath in the morning cold, the shade of the clouds that surround liyue’s highest peaks as you climbed them with him slowing down to stay with you, a determined smile fixed resolvedly on your face and the way you whooped, your gleeful voice echoing through the mountains when you finally ascended to the top, and your hands clutching his, that shade of hazy white he loves so much.

… thoma remembers the first date you had, a picnic underneath a maple tree with leaves as red as windwheel asters, a bouquet of flowers wrapped with gold ribbons on the cloth. the first time he heard you, really heard you speak after admiring you from afar for so long, and what a beautiful voice you had, what a beautiful smile, how you were so dazzling it almost was blinding. and today he’s recreated the picnic for your fifth anniversary, and you’re still just as beautiful as you were, even more so.

… cyno remembers that your favorite color is blue, that your favorite food is sweets with apples in them, that your favorite flower is padisarahs and your favorite person is him, your birthday, the name of your pet dog, the sound of your voice cheerfully singing out his name, your laughter at a silly one liner he made (and stored a thousand more in his brain to hear that sound again), he remembers the exact shade of your eyes, he remembers the feeling of you in his arms and warmth in his heart.

… itto remembers that you like the taste of sweet melon, one of inazuma’s popular flavorings, and every time he sees anything flavored with it he swipes it off the shelf, never mind how much it costs, and brings it home to you proudly with stars in his eyes. you laugh, try a bite of whatever it is – hard candies or smoothies or macarons – and then pull him into a hug and thank him from the bottom of your heart, and when he kisses you he tastes sweet melon, almost as sweet as you.

… albedo remembers clutching a caterpillar in his palm and crushing it into starry dust before opening it again and revealing a tiny, perfect butterfly that fluttered away in a breeze of silver glitter, your wide eyed look of absolute delight as you begged him to do it again, starstruck by his expertise and wanting nothing more than to see him do a thousand more feats of what looks like sorcery to you, and how you still treat him as though he’s a wonderful magician, a gift from the archons themselves.

… tighnari remembers an odd dream of his that he was lying in a field of flowers, soft cushions of pink and yellow, and he felt weariness drain away as he stared up at the sky with its golden sun, relaxed in the silence for once with responsibilities so far away, and then he blinked awake and found himself with his head in your lap, your fingertips tracing along his forehead, and you smiled down at him and cupped his chin in your palms as you gave him a kiss hello and his face flushed red.

… venti remembers blowing wisps of dandelion fluff off the green straw, watching the white puffs float away on a breeze as he wished, clutching clusters of dandelions to his chest with slender fingers as he bowed his head and prayed to a more powerful god than he that you could be his, that you could see him the way his throat choked up every time he looked at you and was struck silent for once in his life by the power of the love he felt for you, that one day you could reciprocate his longing.

thank you so much for reading, and pls leave a like + reblog + follow if you enjoyed!!

1K notes · View notes

anitalenia · 6 months ago

Text

⋆.˚⟡⊹₊⋆ 𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙆 𝘿𝙄𝙑𝙄𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎 ✧˖°. ݁₊

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette dividers 𝐈𝐈, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ strawberry girl dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink symbol dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink coquette symbol dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ bimbocore dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette deer dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette deer & bunny dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ gray + pink masterlist pack . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ cutegore dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink kuromi dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ neapolitan dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & white cinnamoroll dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ minimalistic heart dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ red & pink simple heart dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink lace dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ intricate pink dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & blue dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ black & magenta dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & purple dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and green dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈𝐈, + 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & gold dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ random pink dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ random pink dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ random pink dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink lace & ribbon dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & white welcome headers + matching dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink imvu dividers / headers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink imvu dividers / headers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink imvu dividers / headers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink imvu dividers / headers 𝐈𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & purple mdni dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink mdni dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink mdni dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink mdni dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink borders 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ my melody bow and wings dividers + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink sanrio dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink butterfly dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & brown dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ hot pink dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & orange summer & ocean dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ chaotic sanrio inspired dividers + 1 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈 , 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 & 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤. . ﾟ

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ pink sparkle dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ my melody bow and wings dividers + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & orange summer & ocean dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink butterfly dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ hot pink dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & brown dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 .

‧₊˚ ✧ pink sanrio dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ animated divider dump 𝐈, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘴, 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘴, 𝘮𝘥𝘯𝘪 𝘨𝘪𝘧 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ animated divider dump 𝐈𝐈, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺 & 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈𝐈𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ one . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ two . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ three . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ four . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ five . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ six . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ seven . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ eight .

‧₊˚ ✧ nine . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ ten . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ eleven . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ twelve . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ thirteen . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ fourteen . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ fifteen . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ sixteen . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ seventeen . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ eighteen . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ nineteen . ﾟ

964 notes · View notes

poetryandfluffycats · 9 months ago

Text

A Producers Reward

A/N: im sick so this is mainly just mugi brainrot. also first real time writing smut so cant promise it will be amazing

Pairing: Tsumugi Aoba x fem!producer reader

Warnings: NSFW, tipsy sex, oral sex(f receiving), penetrative sex, petnames(princess, baby, good girl), breeding kink, praise, light amount of teasing, very light spanking, semi-public sex(in a closet), mildly ooc Tsumugi(hes drunk soo), soft dom Tsumugi

Content: You attend the release party of a new album from Switch, the idol group you produce. A very tipsy Tsumugi finds you during the party, desperate to show you how much you mean to the unit.

Words: 2.2k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Voices boomed from throughout the party venue, which had been decorated with an abundance of green and white streamers and ribbons. This was what made your job as a producer worthwhile-witnessing your idol group, who had spent all their hard work and energy on their new album, be showered in praise at the release party. Seeing the bright smiles and looks of achievement on the members of Switchs faces made all the stress worth it.

You sat down on a sofa, swirling your wine as you watched Natsume make a speech up at the microphone. You could see Sora sitting down close to the microphone, staring up at his senpai with much admiration and respect. He looked adorable in his little suit-like a real cutie-and you couldn't help but feel a smile tug at your lips as you looked at the younger idol.

"Enjoying yourself, producer?" The couched dipped slightly as a familiar face came and sat down next to you.

"Ah, Tsumugi. Yes, its lovely" You took a sip of your wine. "I'm glad everyone is enjoying themselves"

"Hmmm, yeah. Its all thanks to you, producer" Tsumugi hummed whilst taking a sip of his own drink, his eyes not leaving your form. "You put so much effort into our group"

You couldn't tell whether it was the alcohol or Tsumugis gaze that was making your cheeks red and hot, and you were grateful for the dim lights of the room. "Its a team effort, really. I only play a small part in your success" You waved your hand dismissively, trying desperately to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

Tsumugi took another long sip of his wine, his intensive gaze washing over you again. A shiver ran down your spine. You'd never seen him look at anyone like that before, let alone you.

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit" His tone suddenly dropped, a stark contrast to the cheerful one you were used to hearing. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he shuffled closer and your whole body tensed up.

"Tsumugi?"

"Switch would fall apart without you, (name)" His large veiny hand met your thigh, gently stroking the plush skin.

You bit down hard on your lip, trying to suppress a soft moan from escaping your lips. The sensation of his fingers running up and down your inner thigh was enough to drive you crazy.

"You work so hard for us. You reward us so well, but who rewards you? Who takes care of you?" He cooed, his breath tickling your neck as he leaned in closer. His voice was full of lust, laced with the desire to take you right here on the sofa. It was as if the wine had released some carnal urge in the blue haired idol. "Don't you think you deserve a reward?"

"A reward?" It was getting hard to think coherent thoughts as Tsumugis slender fingers gazed over your clothed cunt. You could feel your wetness pooling inside your panties, soaking them.

"Yes, a reward" He placed a sloppy kiss to your neck, biting down softly. "Don't you want a reward, princess?"

The petname went straight to your core. There was no way you could resist him now.

"Please! Please Tsumugi, please reward me!" Your words came out as a rushed moan as he continued to rub up and down your soaked clothed cunt, a lustful smirk appearing on his face.

"Good girl"

With that, he pulled you up. His grip on your wrist was tight-nearly painful-as he dragged you through the party. The two of you received many strange glares and glances as you rushed through the crowd, probably due to the arousal you could feel dripping down your leg and Tsumugis painfully hard member straining his suit pants. You didn't care though. The only thing you cared about right now was Tsumugi.

"Ah!"

You gasped as you were thrown into a storage closet. Tsumugi very swiftly shut the door, clicking the lock into place. It was pitch black in the closet, the sound sounds being the muffled music from the party and your tiny whines and pants.

"Shhh, you have to be quiet baby" Tsumugi purred at you, one hand snaking around your waist to pull you close and the other being placed over your mouth silencing you. You couldn't see him in the darkness, but you could feel his hard cock pressing up against your thigh. "If you can be quiet, I'll make sure to fuck you real good, okay?"

You nodded desperately, tears beginning to prick the corners of your tears because of how desperate you were for his touch.

Tsumugi grinned and removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with his lips. He wasted no time brushing his tounge into your mouth, the bitter taste of red wine filling your taste buds. The kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated, his movements were almost animalistic as he devoured your mouth.

His hands began to roam across your body, sitting comfortably on your ass. You groaned into his mouth and arched your back as he kneaded and squeezed the soft flesh through your skirt, giving it a light spank.

"Such a sluty little outfit, such easy access for me" Tsumugi murmured as he pulled away from the kiss, a string of sailva drooling down his chin. Delivering another soft spank to your ass, he chuckled slightly. "Just begging to be fucked"

"P-please, need my reward..." You muttered, reaching for his belt. He slapped your hand away, causing you to whine and pout.

"Ah, Ah, Ah. You need to be patient, baby" He tutted, sliding his fingers down the waistband of your skirt.

In one swift motion, he pulled down the garment and got down on his knees. He buried his nose into the warmth of your panties, breathing in deeply.

"You smell so good" He cooed, lapping up the wetness that was dripping from out the lace. A sinful moan escaped your lips as his tounge slid over your clothed clit. Your legs felt as if they were turning to jelly. "Tastes good too"

He quickly ripped the thin layer of lace off your body and discarded them on the floor beside him. You didn't even have time to be embarrassed of your nakedness before the idol buried his mouth onto your clit, sucking it harshly.

"Fucking hell" You cried out, your hips bucking at the contact. You could feel his grin as he continued to suck and lick your sensitive bud. The sensation was enough to drive you crazy.

Suddenly, he pushed his middle and index fingers inside your sopping cunt. He trusted them deep, scissoring them and hitting all the sweet spots inside of you. He began to niddle softly on your clit, flicking his tounge up and down. Your legs shook as you grinded your pussy against his face like a dog in heat, desperately chasing your orgasm.

"M-mugi~ close-Ah!" You whined as he increased the speed of his fingers, smirking against your clit as he silently added a third digit. You were a complete mess. Sweat was dripping down your face and thighs, mixing with the juices down your leg. Your body trembled and shook violently.

"Cum for me, princess"

With one final flick of his tounge, the knot in your stomach snapped. You threw your head back and arched your back, screaming out Tsumugis name. White clouded your vision and you swore you saw stars as he continued to fingerfuck you through your high, your walls clamping down against the digits.

"Such a pretty girl" He retracted his fingers from your hole, making you whimper at the loss of contact. He brought his glistening fingers up to his mouth, licking off the slick and allowing some of it to drip down his chin. "You're so good for me, (name)"

He stood up, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss. The mixture of the taste of your own jucies and the red wine was intoxicating in your mouth. You couldn’t help but reach for his belt again, trying to undo it. Your movements were clumsy, long gone any of your previous patience.

"Need you...need your cock now" You whined into the kiss as Tsumugi moved his lips down onto your neck. He sucked and sunk his teeth hard into the skin, no doubt leaving countless hickies and burises.

"I know baby, I know" Tsumugi cooed, licking the pluse of your neck. "I'll give it to you, don't worry. Gonna stuff that pretty little hole of yours and breed you nice and good"

"Breed me!~ Need it so bad!" Any shred of dignity you once had had disappeared, leaving you a horny mess. You tugged harshly at his belt, causing the idol to chuckle and swat your hand away again.

"So needy for me, aren't you princess?~" Tsumugi purred, finally helping you undo his belt and letting his trousers fall to the floor. The outline of his bulge was more visible through his boxers. The sight made you clench around nothing.

He pulled his boxers down, his erection springing free and hitting his lower stomach. You couldn't see such in the darkness of the closet, but you could tell he was big, a very prominent vein going up the shaft. A small puddle of precum was gathered on the tip, leaking down.

You didn't have much time to admire though, as Tsumugi quickly grabbed your waist and slammed you up against the wall, using his own hips to sandwich you between him and the cold brick.

"F-fuck, Mugi!" You cried out as he rutted his throbbing length up and down your folds, coating it in your slick.

"So wet for me" He purred against your ear, nibbling the shell of it. "Do you want it inside?~"

"Please! I need your cock!"

He lined his tip up with your entrance, pushing it in agonisingly slow and drawing out a low moan from your lips.

"G-god, you're so fucking tight baby" Tsumugi hissed into your ear as you wrapped your legs around his waist, forcing him in deeper. Burying your face into his shoulder, you chanted his name like a prayer as he stretched you out. It burned slightly, but it was the best pain you'd ever experienced.

"So big-Ah!" You babbled, digging your nails into Tsumugis shirt and holding on for dear life. He bottomed out inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix and his balls flush against your skin. You felt so full.

He gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size before giving you a sloppy kiss on the lips. "Can I move, princess?" He muttered, hot breath tickling the side of your face.

You nodded frantically, "Please!~"

That was all the prompting he needed. In a swift motion, he pulled out, leaving only the tip inside before thrusting back in brutally and bottoming out again. He set a rough pace, the sound of his balls slapping your skin filling the room along with the squelched noises of your hole.

"Such a good girl, t-taking me so well" He praised you, peppering kisses across your face. "So beautiful"

You tried to reply, but all that came out was a straggled moan as Tsumugi hit that sweet spot inside you. You clawed at his back, the pleasure taking over your mind.

"Yeah? Right there?~" The blue haired idol teased, angling his hips to continue abusing your g-spot. Tears pooled in your eyes, you had never felt this good before. "You like that baby?"

"Yes! G-god, love it s-so much!" You groaned, pulling him in for another heated kiss. You could feel the knot in your stomach threatening to snap again. "Needa cum!"

"Gonna cum for me princess? Gonna milk my cock dry?" Tsumugi's thrusts were becoming more uneven and messy, he was close too. "F-fuck, you drive me crazy. Wanna fuck you every chance I get. Fuck you round with my kids. You want that baby? You want my cum?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Wanna be a mommy, wanna carry your babies!"

With one practically hard thrust, the knot in your stomach snapped for the second time that night. Your whole body spasmed, vision going blurry and your walls clenching and milking Tsumugis length. A loud moan ripped from your throat and you were sure everyone outside could hear you.

"Fuck, (name)!" Tsumugi came not long after you, coating your walls white and filling you to the brim with his cum. He continued to slowly rock his hips against yours as you both rode out your highs, panting heavily.

The two of you stayed in that position for a moment, catching your breath and enjoying eachothers warmth. You felt his member soften inside you.

"Are you alright?" Tsumugi broke the silence, gently pulling out of you and helping you to the floor, sitting down in front of you. "That wasn't too rough?"

You shook your head, resting it on his shoulder, "No, it was amazing. You were amazing"

"Good, I'm glad" He placed a soft kiss to your forehead, rubbing circles on your back. "Do you wanna go back out there?"

"Hm, can we stay like this for a bit longer? My legs are sore"

"Yeah, of course, princess"

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars oneshot #ensemble stars x reader #enstars #enstars x reader #oneshot #tsumugi aoba x reader #tsumugi aoba #switch enstars #ensemble stars smut #enstars smut

65 notes · View notes

the-mortuary-witch · 1 month ago

Text

BELTANE

DATE: April 30th-May 1st

ZODIAC: Taurus and Gemini

SYMBOLS: maypoles, wreaths, colourful ribbons, bonfires, flower baskets, garlands, floral crowns, and hand fasting.

INCENSE AND OILS: frankincense, rose, lilac, mint, jasmine, thyme, vanilla, yang yang, lemon, and mugwort.

SPELLWORK: fertility, love, prosperity, inspiration, blessings, protection, purification, and connection to nature.

ANIMALS: bees, deer, cows, horses, rabbits, hares, doves, swallows, swans, frogs, cats, lynx, butterflies, and leopards.

COLOURS: green, blue, yellow, purple, red, pink, and white.

FOOD: dairy, oatmeal, honey, breads, cakes, fruits and berries, herb-infused foods, and wine.

DEITIES: Belenus, Cernunnos, Freyja, Pan, Flora, Aphrodite, Lilith, Daina, Hades, Artemis, and Green Man.

HERBS AND FLOWERS: hawthorn, mugwort, lavender, rose, nettle, dandelion, bluebells, violets, mint, and yarrow.

CRYSTALS AND STONES: rose quartz, malachite, carnelian, sapphire, tourmaline, and emerald.

#fyp #fypシ #fypシ゚viral #fypage #fyppage #tumblr fyp #witchcraft #witches #witch #witchcore #witch community #witchy things #sabbats #beltane #wheel of the year #information #helpful

18 notes · View notes

luminetti · 7 months ago

Text

𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 ༺♡༻ Chapter 4

༘⋆Notes: i am back!!! so sorry again for the giant gap but chapters should be coming out faster now that my finals season is coming to an end! sorry for the slight cliffhanger but im so excited for the plot to be picking up finally! hope you enjoy!

༘⋆ Chapters: ┆[1] ┆ [2] ┆[3]┆[4]┆[5]┆[6] ┆[7] ┆

ao3

Your scalp throbbed as another pin slid tightly against your neck, fastening the ribbon to your updo.

“Stop fidgeting, you’ll make it come loose,” Euphemia muttered from behind you, intently focused on threading the ribbon into a bow. Her nimble fingers smoothed and secured every hair into place, finalizing her work with a soft pat on the head. “How’s this?” She asked, spinning you around in the chair and holding up a hand mirror.

A soft breath escaped you as you observed your appearance. Balls were rarely something that generated excitement anymore and the prospect of love somehow garnered even less. Despite your past experiences, something churned within your stomach, suspiciously resembling the fluttering of butterflies. And to your growing surprise, it was almost as though you had missed such a feeling. “I think it’s lovely, Phemie.”

She pursed her lips and whipped you back around. “Lovely? I need gorgeous, I’m restarting.”

Her fingers barely graced the top of your head before a particularly loud and jarring cough resounded from the doorway.

“I refuse to be late to the Duke’s ball because of hair,” Sebastian drawled, dressed clad in black and lazily leaning against the doorframe.

Euphemia groaned and spun you once more to face your brother. “What do you think then? Is this good enough?”

Sebastian stared at her blankly. “I’m not sure what you want me to say here. It is hair.”

She scoffed and turned back to the dresser, rummaging through the countless drawers. “Of course you wouldn’t know. You don’t even know how to tell the difference between a black and navy tie.”

Turning back to face him, she held up two necklaces. One adorned with tiny rubies along a thin silver chain, and the other a single garnet pendant. “Which?”

Sebastian looked up from undoing his dark blue tie. “What?”

She rolled her eyes and held the necklaces higher.

He looked between the two over and over again. “The…The red one?” He asked, hesitantly.

Sebastian swore as a hairbrush flew past his shoulder, dodging just before it collided into him.

“They’re both red, you absolute clod!”

Throwing the hairbrush back to Euphemia who caught it easily, Sebastian stalked out of the room and down the hallway. “I’ll be seeing red if we don’t leave soon!”

Euphemia glared in the direction he left. Putting down one of the necklaces, she leaned over you to drape the other across your neck. “Oh? When did you get a new necklace?” She paused, reaching out to examine the small crystal necklace Gale had given you.

“A couple nights ago.” You pulled your hair back to let her fawn over it. “From Gale,” You added sheepishly.

“The Viscount?!” Her eyebrows rose to her hairline and she leaned in, reducing her voice to a whisper. “You’re officially courting?”

You whipped around in your seat, “No, of course not! It was just a parting gift.” Your mind slipped back to the night he gave you the necklace. He was so close that if you just shivered your lips might’ve touched. Of course, however, they did not. And when you mistakenly brought up the topic of courting–to your absolute horror–Gale couldn’t even form a proper sentence in response. Surely courting was out of the cards regardless of the thrill in your heart that pounded whenever he was mentioned.

Euphemia stared down at you in disbelief as you finished explaining the interaction. “I don’t quite think his reaction was…as you interpreted.”

“I’m sure he just wanted to let me down easily,” You replied

“Courtship doesn’t need to be elaborate displays of affection, dearest,” She began. “It is often accompanied with spending time with each other, like promenades, or lunch.” Her eyes dropped to the pendant around your neck. “Among those, gifts are also quite common.”

The butterflies stirred giddily in your stomach. “You really think he’s trying to court me?”

Euphemia glanced towards the doorway where Sebastian had been before turning back to you. “The Viscount was a pleasure to host, but I think the ball would be the perfect chance to meet new potential suitors.”

You looked up at her. “New suitors?”

She bit her lip as concern briefly settled over her features. “You’ve never met the Viscount before because he rarely attends the balls.”

Something twisted in your chest. Something different than the butterflies that were now suspiciously silent. “But why would he skip them if he’s looking for someone to court?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, her soft hand pulling you out of the seat. “Just give the other suitors a chance.” She pleaded, gathering both your dance cards. “Sebastian is hoping you get a chance to talk to the Marquess.” Euphemia gave you one final pointed look before retreating down the hall and out the front door.

✣ ✣ ✣

The Ravengard estate was, to put it lightly, exceedingly glamorous. Arriving a tad late, the ball was already in full swing with a lively quartet and couples dancing lined the dance floor. The ballroom’s ceiling was patterned in blocks of intricate red and gold. The details trailed down walls, wrapping and weaving around the onlays ceremoniously. Draped against the back wall was a single red banner, thick in width and clad in deep red. Painted on the front was a silver emblem, picturing a knight’s helmet and a crimson fist, the familiar symbol of the Flaming Fist.

From what you remember of Euphemia’s ramblings, the Flaming Fist are the pride and joy of the Ravengard family. It was what elevated Grand Duke Ravengard to, well, the Grand Duke. The Sword Coast was the mother of Baldur’s Gate and the Flaming Fist their shield. It was customary for Baldurians to attend a ball hosted by the Ravengard, that much was certain. But for the citizens of Waterdeep? For such a long distance, many were only in attendance for their Duchess Mystra, and the now Late Duke Elminster. Some Waterdhavians may have pulled from the ball, opting to attend a more local event and perhaps mourn the loss of the Late Duke. However, there was sure to be at least one Waterdhavian in attendance.

“Not looking to dance?”

You whipped around to come face to face with Gale. Gone were the old clothes you had found in Sebastian's closet, instead replaced with a dark velvety tailcoat and golden buttons that fastened the fabric tight against his chest. You never considered Gale to be scruffy or anything of the like. Quite the opposite in fact. But with the ballroom lighting and a refreshed appearance, you admit your heartbeat quickened. You nearly reached out to him, catching yourself last second.

“Lord Dekarios,” you began, curtseying lightly as Euphemia taught. “Pleased to meet you.”

Gale's face fell and he stared at you as if you had just taken a dagger to his chest.

You cleared your throat, glancing around the busy ballroom and speaking lowly. “Was my discretion the past couple months all for naught?”

His brows furrowed until a relieved smile broke out across his face and he smiled nervously. “Ah yes! Pleased to meet you,” Gale said, almost over confidently. “For the very first time,” he added. “Never before.”

Gods, he really was terrible at this.

“Now that I’ve met you, I’ll ask again. No dancing?”

You pursed your lips as you recalled your previous attempts to dance with potential suitors. Despite your sour performance you really were trying your best. Unfortunately, your suitors seemed to have as much patience as a teacup and moved on as soon as the set finished. At least they had the etiquette to stay until the set finished. A feat as such deserved a mental applaud for their resolve.

You fiddled with the small dance card strapped to your wrist. “I’m an expert, I promise. But I wouldn’t recommend seeing it for yourself.”

Gale raised an eyebrow, a surprised chuckle escaping his lips. “I can’t help but be curious now.” He eyed the slip of paper between your fingers. “May I?” he asked, reaching for it.

You grimaced but relented and handed him the attached pencil. “Truly horrid you are doing this to me.”

He grinned in reply, happily writing his name into the one of the blank spaces. “Will you be as good a dancer as you are a chess master?”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “Will you talk about dancing as long as you did about chess? Horses and knights and bishops and kings. Tell me more about the knight’s opening, I’m sure it’ll be riveting.”

“It was the bishop’s opening, actually,” he said absently, still scribbling on your card.

“More like the bishop’s eye-closer, I’m surprised I didn’t fall asleep– what are you even writing that’s taking so long?”

Gale stifled a laugh as you pulled the pencil away from him and looked at your dance card. With surprisingly neat cursive, various versions of Gale Dekarios’ name sat in at least seven of the spots. The names ranged from his actual name in the first slot to the last which barely held any resemblance in the slightest.

‘Who the hells is Gray Delargo?!”

“That would be my alter ego,” he snorted, rather pleased with himself.

You scanned the card again. Glais Dalglish, George Dowey, even Dale Gekarios. Ignoring Gale’s laughter, you quickly counted each name.

“Ten?! You added ten of these?!”

“I said I would, didn’t I? Unless you’re asking for an eleventh.”

You snickered as you read through all the names. Skimming the rest you noticed a gap between the sixth and eighth dance. “I don’t suppose this is where you flee after seeing my dancing capabilities?”

He shook his head, seemingly recovered from his laughing fit. “That’s for when I talk to the Marquess. I can only hope he’s available for at least a moment tonight.”

You hummed and nodded, biting back the grin growing across your face. “I’m sure he’d love to dance with you.”

As the music died down, couples began to disperse from the dance floor in search of their next partner. In a flash, Gale had pulled you to the center of the ballroom. Before you could even understand what was happening, the band burst back to life with dignified intensity. His fingers pressed up against your hand and gently wrapped around it. With a push against your palm, Gale stepped towards you, forcing you to stumble backwards.

“What are you doing?” You questioned in a frantic whisper, thankful none of the other couples had noticed your jagged movements.

Gale tugged your hand again, this time pulling you closer as he took a step back. “Is this not the purpose of a dance card? I wrote my name for the third dance, it is the third dance, so we are dancing.”

You glowered at him as he took your waist, lightly spinning you perfectly in sync with the other dancers. “And you truly expect to participate in all, what, six trillion dances you’ve put yourself down for?”

“It was ten,” Gale commented, “And yes, all of which I quite intend to be present for.” He pulled you close with a prolonged grip on your hip and a far-from-modest keenness. “Unless you intend to imply you are not interested?” His eyes darted to the necklace hanging just below your collarbones with a glance so quick you questioned if it truly happened. “Though,” Gale continued, locking eyes with you once more and lowering his voice to a gravelly murmur. “Something tells me that is not the case.”

Warmth bloomed from the pit of your chest and you made no effort to refute it. Satisfied, he pulled away and continued to lead through the dance. With Gale, dancing felt natural; a sentiment you never thought you’d have the pleasure of having. For one single instant you could’ve sworn the other guests disappeared from the ballroom and only you and Gale remained. His eyes are brown, you note. A deep brown like the bark of burned firewood or an oversteeped early morning cup of tea. A brown that made his irises resemble that of clockwork and oh, how easy it is to see yourself spending the rest of your life with that brown.

His hand reached for yours once more and time is suddenly restored, the piano quartet jovial as ever. Through all the alacrity of the dance floor, you only momentarily caught a glimpse of Euphemia through the crowd, peering at you with large anxious eyes. In the midst of all the chasséing, waltzing, spinning, and turning, words of the Marquess and her concern merely flitted through your mind, effectively becoming null the second she left your sight. Your heart thrummed vividly against your chest, desperate for something, anything. Your bodies departed as the women shifted down the line to their new partner but his presence never fully leaves. Even as you moved two, then three people down the line, his eyes never left your form for a second. You couldn’t help but do the same and Gale grinned a bit wider when you returned to his arms.

Your heart thrashed dramatically, deciding that if something was to be done, it was this very instant. With hands moving on their own accord, you clutch the collar of his suit and lean into him. Instinctively, his hands cling to your waist. Letting your eyes fall closed, you pull him down and–

He freezes.

Gale’s form goes rigid under your touch and his grip tightens. Glancing up at him in confusion, you realize he’s staring directly beyond you looking as though he’s seen a ghost. All of a sudden you feel like a fish out of water but the ball doesn’t stop for just you. The couples beside you continue to soar across the dancefloor, the womens’ dresses brushing against your stationary body. Pivoting, you see nothing out of the ordinary other than Euphemia and Sebastian’s prying eyes.

Then all of a sudden Gale frantically pushed past you with wide eyes and a pale complexion. A cursory ‘one moment’ was all you were offered before he vanished into the crowd and out to the seemingly empty balcony.

You stood there for a couple moments, unable to process what had happened nor able to escape from the dance floor. You’ve had bad seasons before, that much was undeniable. But to your credit, never in all your life had someone fled from the ballroom without as much of an apology. Did you do something wrong? If you did, you certainly didn’t realize.

As the music surged to it’s finish, you realized tears brimmed in your eyes, blurring your vision. As the dancers left the floor and new ones began to take their place, you hurriedly searched for a place to escape. You took a couple steps forward and immediately got shoved out of the way by an incoming couple who looked you up and down strangely. A younger woman pushed around you to find her partner while another couple prepared to take the place behind you. Chest heaving, you desperately spun in place, searching for a route off the floor.

A dark figure threaded through the hoard of people to stand in front of you. Dressed in a long crimson tailcoat that enhanced his sepia skin, he offered a hand to you, bowing politely.

“Take my hand, I’ll shield you from everyone else,” he spoke lowly.

The moment your fingertips grazed his hand he pulled you towards his chest, pivoting to where he towered over you. “Breathe,” he reminded you. “There’s still a couple minutes before the quartet begins.”

You nodded, patting away salty beads of tears with the hem of your dress. “Thank you…”

With your vision cleared, you managed to finally get a better look at your supposed savior. His hair was braided to lay neatly against his scalp and concern graced over his soft features. “Of course.” He stepped away, still watching you carefully. “I would ask for a dance but I fear you may be in too much…” he paused as you sniffled. “...distress.”

Shaking your head you fished out your dance card. “I think leaving the floor now would put me in more distress than I began with.”

He snorted in surprise when he opened it to reveal the list of names scrawled onto the paper. “I can’t say I know a Lord Dale Gekarios, do you?”

Your cheeks burned as you handed him the accompanying pencil. “He seems to have fled.”

“Not to worry. I’ll just…” he scribbled into the empty slot and handed it back to you. “There.”

Etched into the card in simple script was the name “Ryll Wavengard.” You stared at the dark writing for several seconds in confusion.

“It’s Wyll,” He explained with a grin, noticing your lost expression. “Wyll Ravengard.”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, dropping to a curtsey as quick as your body could move. Marquess Wyll Ravengard, Son of the Grand Duke. “My Lord! Apologies, I– surely I would’ve noticed–”

Wyll quickly waved you off with a smile. “I take no offense. I find it rather refreshing.” The embroidered emblem of the Flaming Fist that you somehow missed earlier shone with silky threads as he bowed. “Would your chaperone approve of this dance? I would have asked for an introduction properly if we weren’t on a time limit.”

As you scanned the ballroom your eyes landed on Sebastian and Euphemia who were watching you intently, their gaze quickly averting when you spot them. “I doubt they have objections,” you told him with a smile, allowing Wyll to take your hand as the sweet violin fills the ballroom.

The dance started off slowly and Wyll stepped carefully as he led you through the beginning. To your relief, you actually recognized the movements as one of the first dances you ever learned. Silently thanking Euphemia for the weekly lessons, you managed to slip into a rhythm, carrying out each step to the best of your ability.

“So, to whom do I owe the pleasure of dancing with?” Wyll asked.

You bit back the third apology of the night, instead opting to just introduce yourself. “My siblings are here as well.” As you gestured to Sebastian and Euphemia–who were getting significantly worse at pretending to be disinterested–Wyll’s smile brightened.

“Ah, Sebastian! I met him earlier tonight and it was quite the pleasure.” He glanced towards your brother, giving him a cursory smile as he continued to dance with you. “Have you been to a Ravengard ball before?”

You shook your head. “I haven’t. This is only my second season.”

“I’m surprised. You seem to fit right in.” Wyll hummed in thought.

Ignoring the initial reaction to disagree, you thanked him anyway. The rest of the dance went similarly. Wyll would ask a question and you would reply, followed by a moment of silence. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means, but you found yourself missing something–or someone.

Before you knew it the dance was over and the Marquess escorted you back to your siblings, bidding them a nice night. After a thorough questioning about the dance, you managed to convince them to give it a rest for now. Until then, you just waited, occasionally checking your dance card.

One by one the dances continued to pass. From the seventh, to the eighth, then the ninth.

By the tenth dance you had searched the entire ballroom and nearby wings of the estate only to come up empty handed.

At the top of the eleventh dance you finally gave up and begged Euphemia to let you return early, to which she pensively agreed.

✣ ✣ ✣

“I truly just cannot understand,” you whined to your sister as she pulled various pins from your hair. “One moment things are absolutely perfect and the other he vanishes from the face of the Earth!”

“Perhaps he’s–”

“I mean really, is he trying to avoid me? He still hasn’t moved his things from his room– the guest room.” The pin snags a strand of hair making you wince.

“Have you considered–”

You slumped back in the chair, absently rambling again. “Do you think I did something? I’m not much of a dancer but I thought I was getting the hang of it– Ow!”

Euphemia dropped a couple pins in the ceramic tray on your desk, threads of hair winding around each one. “If you just held still and let me reply, it wouldn’t have hurt,” she scoffed. “How much do you know about the Viscount?”

Pursing your lips you stared at her incredulously through the vanity mirror. “I know plenty! He favors the color violet, knows far too much about chess to be that attractive, and…” you decided to keep his mage status to yourself, “...other things.”

The hairbrush bristles made the back of your neck tingle as she ran it through your hair. “Those barely scratch the surface, love. How much do you truly know about him?”

You opened your mouth to protest but she continues.

“Have you ever stopped to wonder why the Viscount of Waterdeep is in Baldur’s Gate? Or maybe why you’ve never met him at a ball before, despite participating in far fewer seasons than him?”

The bundle of nerves twisted ominously in your stomach as her words settled in, “What are you talking about?”

She spun you around to face her, donning an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Please just consider that you may not have the entire story.”

Your heart beat quicker than usual, as if spurred on by her words. “Okay…’

“Get some sleep,” Euphemia said, patting your shoulder and retreating to her own bedroom.

As she disappeared from view you sat silently, staring at where she had been. She was right. There were so many things he never fully explained that lingered deep down in the back of your mind. You had just been so caught up in… well, him… that you didn’t think to question his secrecy.

You found yourself stationed in front of the guest bedroom doorway, hand hovering on the doorknob. Your heart craved answers and this was the only place you figured there might be. He abandoned you at the ball, who was he to care now?

The door swung open to reveal a relatively neat room. You hadn’t been inside since Euphemia fixed it up for Gale, and even then it still looked the same as it had years ago. The only change was the new navy bed sheets and dozens of papers littering the desk.

Along the top of the desk were several stamps and wax seals clearly used for letter sealing.

How odd. Gale hadn’t sent any letters since he sheltered in your manor.

A folded letter tucked into the back shelf of the desk caught your eye with its glittering mauve seal, shimmering with a silver dusting on the details. You traced the circular design with the pads of your fingers, trailing down each point of the star symbol. Where had you seen it before?

Curiosity took over and you couldn’t help but read its contents, unprepared for the violent sickness that overtook your body.

Dearest Lord Dekarios,

Pray tell, how are you faring? I dare admit your correspondence has been missed. The Waterdeep Palace feels colder without your frequent visits.

Sources claim you are healthy. That is good. Make haste and return to me, we have much to discuss.

Yours heartily,

Duchess Aumar,

P.s. Duchess Dekarios has a ring to it, does it not?

Your heart dropped to the floor and the bedroom walls crumbled down around you to join it. The past couple months you had spent with Gale flashed through your mind. Could you have known this sooner? The paper trembled in your grip as you reread it, praying new words would magically appear and confirm he had truly loved you all this time, but no such words manifested. You read it over and over, analyzing each letter.

Perhaps it was addressed incorrectly.

Perhaps there was another Lord of a similar name.

On the fifth read you resisted the urge to shred the paper to tiny bits and pieces. Destroying the letter wouldn’t repair the damage to your heart.

A million thoughts crossed your mind and you gripped the sheet so hard it creased at the edge. The only saving grace was the glimmer of hope that flickered in the cavern of your chest that somehow, someway, there was something you had interpreted wrong.

“Why do you have that?” Gale’s voice cut through the room as he stared at you from the doorway, dreadfully horrified. Whatever hope you had promptly extinguished as a flash of light caught your eye. In the moonlight, plain as day, was the unassuming earring he always wore–the one you had barely given a second thought. Round and silver with a simple star decal, the very same as the glittering sealed letter in your hand. It was her symbol. And he was wearing it.

taglist:

@vhaldren @qiific3 @cryingoverpixelsetc

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 x tav #bg3 x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #alternate universe #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep #regency #tav bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #gale x tav

32 notes · View notes