#coil tower au

[weirdzano-and-co]

[rina7z]

Weirdzano!

[lunatheartist22446]

*Insert super romantic music-* (this is for an amazing lil rp i do on the side-)

(zoom in for better quality yall)

she got them hackles

(BONUS: she finds her hackles equivalent to an "inappropriate part of her" when seen, depending on the situation of course.)

[coil-tower-roblox]

made @rfxn-emulator fakey today

and i forgor that i made shitty stairs for next floor of pizzno housa

also check this scary trees oooo aa stick

:)

[weirdzano-and-co]

Plant :)

Random doodle because @weirdzano-and-co and I had funny thinks about plant slimezano nyehehe

[tteokdoroki]

✎ᝰ. OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE - satoru gojo .ᐟ

[CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL] satoru gojo as flynn rider + bondage. once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants ( 9.1K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, rapunzel!au, strangers to lovers, role reversal & switching, orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, handjobs (m!recieving), reader's hair has blonde streaks but colour remains ambigous, rapunzel + fem!reader, flynn rider!satoru gojo.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yippieee!! kickstarting spooky season with this hefty boy. we have our glorious blue eyed king welcoming you all to our fourth annual tteokdoroki kinktober - i hope you all like what's planned this year and enjoy this piece to start with !! kissies hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“you’re going to take me to see the floating lights. or else.” 

“or else, what, honey?” 

ever since satoru gojo climbed the wooden lattice sewn to your tower by blooming, overgrown weeds and winding vines effectively invading the safest space in the world ( according to mother ), he’s been a pain in your fucking ass. when he’d first arrived, a towering and unfamiliar figure creeping about the main floor — your heart had dropped to the base of your stomach, pulsing rapidly with fear while he scoped the scene. you’d never come across a man before, mother had made sure of that, warning you of their cruelty and ugliness both inside and out. except satoru looked nothing like the descriptions your mother had left you with, you’d say that the man was stunning. not that you had much to compare him to.

his hair was a crisp white, appearing soft to the touch much like the snowfall that came in the winter months (something about playing in it. contrastingly, his eyes were a beautiful shade of baby blue — eerily similar to that of a summer sky free of cloudiness. he was too good looking to be human, for it to be natural, almost as if satoru had strolled straight out of one of the many fairytale books mother purchased for you from the markets. although, over the years you’ve probably read each book cover to cover a million times and not one fictional prince could even match this stranger’s sheer beauty.

though for now, this handsome stranger’s looks would get him nowhere with you. strangers always came with dangers, and since all you’d known throughout your years of living were these four walls, you weren’t going to take any chances with satoru and whatever problems he’d have brought with him.  initially and out of an unfamiliar fear, you’d  taken the nearest weapon to you (a frying pan) and cracked it right over his skull — watching the hunk of a human collapse to his knees and eventually black right out. if mother were around, she would have been proud. you’d tried not to feel any guilt trying to stuff his limp, lengthy limbs in your closet or under your bed because… well, what business does this stranger have with you? what the fuck is a man doing here? how did he get here? why is he here? 

your whole life you’ve been convinced that the outside word was treacherous and that you had to stay inside, where it was safe, because people were horrible and selfish — intent on hunting you down for the powers that lay intertwined in the coils of your hair. those specific streaks that glow a valuable gold between the usual  colour of your locks whenever you sang. mother would style them the way you liked every night — so long as you sung for her. you weren’t about to let mother down, nor risk the little life you built here together.

but, as it turns out, satoru wasn’t looking for the magic sprouting from your crown and entangled in your hair. it almost seemed like he had no idea about them either. rather, the moonlit haired man was looking for a place to lay low and hide after being chased through the forest for his satchel that seemingly carries something valuable. a crown… jewels that have a weight familiar to your head and sparkle like something you’ve seen before in a distant memory. 

“come to think of it, honey, where is my satchel?” cocking his head to the side, sky blue eyes peer up at you with a charm that sends a foreign swarm of butterflies ripping through your stomach.

you frown, accusingly pointing your weapon of choice at gojo’s head and puffing out your chest to appear as intimidating as possible while giving him your name. “i’ve hidden it in a secure location—“ 

“it’s in that pot…isn’t it?” 

as best as he can in the handcuffs he can call locks of your hair, the tower’s newfound infiltrator gestures towards a colourful pot in the corner of tne room. what? all you could think of in the moment is restraining him against the chair and why waste perfectly good rope when you’ve got such length to your own hair? the pot was the closest spot too.you knock him out swiftly after his guess, not giving gojo the satisfaction of finding his precious purse.

now, with the satchel hidden once more, satoru gojo semi-concussed and conscious once again — you realise that for the first time in your life, you have some kind of leverage to bargain with. you need someone to take you to see the floating lights that illuminate the sky on your birthday, every year. satoru needs his… crown? that so obviously doesn’t belong to him. of course, he would have stolen it, mother always said men were no good and always take what isn’t theirs (oh the irony). nonetheless, it  was the perfect match of desires.

this way, you could prove to mother that you weren’t weak like she said you were. that you could cope by yourself and go explore the outside world. it wouldn’t be how it usually is with mother — where you ask for something and instantly get denied because she believes you to be too naive to function in a world outside of her. not this time. this time you have a bargaining chip. a satchel containing a valuable so rare that satoru was willing to risk his life for.

your captive wriggles against the restraints of your hair, woven around the chair like tough knots of a rope to keep him at bay. while the silver haired fox may not have canines like your mother suggested, you have no idea how powerful he could be. contrastingly, gojo finds your hair to be soft against his skin, ticklish along the veins of his arms despite how secure it has him strapped down. he’s forced to listen and to follow your every move across the floor plan, guided by the strength of your hair tugging him about.

“i have a proposition for you. come, look.” drawing back a curtain to reveal a painting from earlier — you recite your plan to your intruder. tomorrow evening, he will take you to see the floating lights … ahem…lanterns that drift across the sky on your birthday every year and then, return you safely to the tower before mother returns. it’s an easy deal.  “i won’t give your satchel back until then,” you stutter out fiercely, adjusting your height and the grip you have on the cool metal frying pan. “you won’t get it back until you’ve taken me to see the lights.” 

“oh whatever, i can just take it back, honey,” satoru goads, cockily ripping his head back in patronising laughter. even though the melodious sound makes irritation bubble hot underneath your skin, you can’t help the way your eyes are immediately drawn to the man’s Adam’s apple as it bobs delectably along with his chuckles. “as soon as i get out of this…hair? hair.” pale blue eyes flicker up to your face when gojo fixes himself in the seat he’s fixed to. they bore deeply into your soul, reading you with as much ease as you have flicking through the same three books that you own. you feel the weight of your hair shift around satoru’s shoulders as he gestures down to it nearly wrapped around his bulging forearms (not that you’d been paying attention). “this is kinda freaky, hon. don’cha think?” a slow sexy smirk tugs at the corners of gojo’s plush, glossy lips, or rather, he smoulders attempting to woo you into giving him what he wants. “you don’t seem like the freaky type, sweetheart.”

once more, a frustrated flame flares up in the middle of your chest — you’d feel offended for sure if you know what gojo meant. “freaky?” 

“as in like… dubious?” he grins in response, running the pink tip of his tongue over his straight, perfectly white teeth. “this is basically bondage, yanno?”

you blink once. confused.

“improper?” 

nothing, not one of these synonyms or explanations from the smiling idiot makes any more sense to you — bringing you to tilt your head to the side, innocently like a puppy that makes satoru laugh once more. this time it actually does something to you. sends weird butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

with a shake of snow white locks and an inhale that sounds amused as it goes, your hostage clicks his tongue — letting those cooling blue eyes slink up and down your virtuous frame . the swell of his lower lip trapped between pretty perfect teeth. “as in sexy, sweet thing.” satoru’s sickly sweet and powdered sugar coo slips through one ear and out of the other like hot, viscous molasses, you immediately shudder — flustered down to the meat on your bones, curling in on yourself as your faux intimidation tactics melt from your body and slip between the floorboards beneath your bare feet. “gosh! you’re so innocent,” his gaze rips away from you, and you fight back an unexpected whimper, missing the intruder’s gaze on you. “guess that’s what being trapped in a place like this does to a darlin’ thing like you. you wouldn’t last a day out there.” 

he’s patronising you. speaking to you as though you’re no more than a child. however, being talked over and down on is all you’ve ever known, especially from your mother… but the way he acts reminds you of all of the advice she’s bestowed upon you over the years. mother tells you all the time, how naive and silly you are. how people will try and take advantage of your looks and your kindness. and so you decide to use your mother’s advice — if all humans, act like dogs, you’ll throw one a bone and wait for them to come back for more. 

steeling yourself, you use a loop of your hair to drag gojo’s chair toward you — positioning him like a puppet beneath your cold, hard stare. he man spreads on the chair as best as he can in his restraints, leaning back while his seat tilts backwards on a forty-five degree angle — drawing your eyes from his face to his thick thighs momentarily. “you are going to take me to see the lights. it’s a promise, not a threat,” you whisper into the air that buzzes with tension between you both, leaning down and pinning gojo in place. you’re so close, so little proximity between your faces, that you can practically feel his warm breath lingering on the damp skin of your lips. “and i promise, i’ll make this worth your while.” 

your voice lowers an octave, smooth and buttery and just right. like a snare for a wild white rabbit or bait on a hook — it peaks satoru’s interest, illicit thoughts and desires flashing behind his pupils like lightbulb ideas. “oh, honey. i can make you see stars alright,” he looks up at you then, with an expression of heat and thirst, dragging you into a pool of shining blue eyes that you barely manage to free yourself from. drowning in his attention once more. you stand over him proudly, between his legs smugly and all he wants to do is wipe the winning smile from your face and show you a real good time. 

if he could, gojo would reach up and grab at your hips possessively, if he could he’d cup your neck and let his fingers toy with your baby hairs to pull you into a sloppy kiss. he can’t help the way white hot desire spreads through his system like throwing gasoline on an open fire and pile of wood. he grins mischievously, and in response, a brand new sensation stirs within your lower tummy — blistering hot as it zips between your chest and your core.

you sense the change in the atmosphere and gojo does too. both of you dying to scratch the itch on the part of your brain that is the control centre for lust. but you remind yourself what this is truly about, tell yourself not to get lost in the haze of it all, and will yourself to throw a loop of your hair over daring blue eyes like a blindfold — acting fast to secure a seat in an unsuspecting satoru gojo’s vacant lap.

he grunts in surprise, flinches when he realises one out of five of his senses are down. “what the fuck—?” gojo spits, cocky smirk melting away. 

“shhh,” you taunt the man under your breath, leaning forward so that your voice coasts over the shell of his ear like a summery breeze. it invokes a sense of pride within your chest when your hostage tilts his head to follow your voice — his own breathing erratic and increasingly shallow with how he begins to struggle against your restraint on him. “you won’t get a chance to make me see those lights. not if i get you to see them first.” 

in truth, you've got nothing planned. you’ve never been in the same room as a man, let alone pleasure them the way that you’ve read in books you’d borrowed from your mother. 

the reality of the scene before you is daunting, giving up part of your virtue just to prove a point and get to see the floating lights like you’ve always wanted…but at the same time — it’s your one chance at freedom that’s at stake here. “you don’t sound so sure about that, sweetheart,” satoru taunts you with the peaks in his voice coltishly high. he continues to wrestle against the restraints of your hair — he’s strong and with a little more force he could escape but it’s like he senses your hesitancy. 

like he knows for certain you won’t make good on your promise. just like mother. 

that much is evident in the way his smooth, glossy lips tick upwards into an arrogant smirk. 

your determination to prove him wrong grows more and more by the second, so before you succumb to your nerves again, you let your free hand claw with way over gojo’s right shoulder — steadying him, forcing him to sit still as you make a comfortable seat out of his widespread lap. he tenses at first, unable to see you move, but his grin remains, you have no idea if it’s because he’s proud of you or doubting you — but the expression only serves to piss you off even more.

“what’s next, sweetheart?” 

a strangled growl is your only reply, the most menacing sound you can muster as you lift head upwards and his pool of loose silver-moon locks fall out of place. with a shuddering breath and a hold of gojo’s restraints, you press your lips to his in a shaky kiss — still unsure of where your lips go and what to do with your teeth and how to move your tongue. the captive beneath you knows it and takes advantage of your weakness, nipping at the swell of your lower lip gently — hardly enough to draw blood. satoru is testing you, telling you to be brave and take from him. prove to him that you’re willing to do whatever you want for him to make your silly childhood dream come true.

he allows you to fight back, despite this being your idea, lets you forcefully grab his angular jaw and capture him in a proper spit-swapping kiss. if he really wanted to, he’d find a way to escape from the tight bounds of your lengthy hair. but he doesn’t. gojo lets you swallow him down; push your tongue exploratively into his mouth and lap at his foreign flavour. he wants your tongue to take dominance from his, pink appendages sloppily rolling over one another, slipping and sliding as you take and take from satoru.

the kiss, already uncoordinated from your lack of experience, becomes hurried and hungry and wet the more you steal from satoru. you take and take and take until his glass his half full and his brain slowly becomes devoid of all logical thought. he comes the prey to your predatory mouth, missing the way your hand frees his pale cheek and fingers fluidly traverse down his broad shoulders, over his marble sculpted body to find purchase in the belt loops of his bothersome pants. now curious, you feel your way down the front of the fabric and grin into the hot and heavy kiss when satoru’s lets out a breathy, staggered moan into your open mouth. 

his swelling erection twitches in response to your inquisitive hand, slender hips involuntarily jumping upwards.

“fuuuck,” satoru chuckles airily, words featherlight as they breeze along your lips. his head keens upwards too, chasing the weight of your hot sticky tongue in his mouth — desperate to be closer, craving the feeling of your nose knocking against his and your breath on his cheek from just how pressed up against each other you are. “fuck baby that’s it. kiss me more, touch me harder…” he’s addicted before he even knows what you have to offer, what he’s getting himself into. if you could see his eyes from under his binding, you’d bare witness to pleading blue pools swirling with a painful desire as he twitches beneath you, wriggling his wrists to get free. “c’mon, touch me.” he adds between sloppy pecks.

backing your face out of satoru’s reach, you break the drooly lip lock — letting your lungs fill with oxygen it had once missed, while your heaving chest syncs up with the intruder you have strapped  to a chair. you pull away, connected to the man by not just your hair, but a string of saliva glazed across your lips — cautiously, your tongue dart out to break the the between your eager mouths, two sets of uneven panting filling the quiet air. 

the two of you remain unmoving and unwilling to back down while you catch your breath; but your hand remains in the centre of gojo’s lap — rocking it back and forth, back and forth over his growing bulge. you stare at him, observing the reactions that he tries so hard to control. little twitches to his pink swollen lips and the flare of his nostrils whenever your palm makes contact with a sensitive spot. all this waiting is agony, the white haired captive might die if he doesn’t get more from you soon. 

satoru whines impatiently as a result, knowing full well what you want and you won’t ask him again — not when you’re tauntingly squeezing his cock for a second, third, fourth, fifth time. he doesn’t fucking know — overwhelmed by waves of lust-infested blood rushes to its blistering hot tip. “fuck! okay, okay fine. i’ll take you! just—“ the chair rattles from the force of gojo’s struggle against your restraints, which hardly covers the low moan that escapes from between his plush glossy lips while his length pulses against the inside of his pants. “just fuck me. touch me. anything.”

something about his tone being all desperate and high activates a part of you that you never even knew existed. a part of you that knows what to do next… even if you haven’t acted it out, you’ve enough books to remember what the erotic ones say.

only then, after he pleads, do you use your shaky hands to tug down the garment — pulling them towards his knees as best as you can against your hair until the button pops free. the zipper follows easily and the waistband falls away from starlight skin and slender hips. everything gets hotter; any fresh air between your bodies becoming tinged with the need for sex as the scorching ghost of your fingertips leaves burn marks against satoru’s pelvis, and sends heatwaves of ardour from the base of his spine to the top of his skull.

satoru’s squirming pauses while he waits with uneven breathing for your next move — tongue pressing up against the barricade of his white teeth to prevent himself from taunting you further or perhaps to stop himself from belting out another pathetic set of whimpers. he wishes he could see you, those sweet innocent eyes looking down at him as you peel back the last layer of fabric stopping you from accessing his painfully hard erection. his underwear. 

when you gasp in shock, pride weaves itself between the bones that protect his heart and lungs like an uninvited weed, he knows that he’s decent. longer than he is thick, bright red at his mushroomed tip and leaky from just how turned on he is. there’s a trail of silver moon hair that leads you down a path from his belly button to the thickest part of his dick too. but oh, how satoru gojo wishes he could see.. the way you lick your lips as drool drowns your tongue, mouth watering at the sight of his length slapping against his clothed stomach while he manspreads for you. the way your pupils dilate, the colour in your eyes swallowed by a dark veil of carnality. 

this is a hunger you’ve never experienced before, a type of starvation that makes your hand lurch forward before your brain can control it, gripping satoru at the base of his milky, slender shaft. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a cock; let alone held one between your tiny fingers — it’s much warmer than you anticipated, tacky to the touch from dribbles of precum running down from his untouched tip, but you like it. the weight, the wet sound it makes when you slightly flick your wrist around satoru. not to mention the stuttered groan he lets out, his head falling against the support of the chair and yanking slightly on the blindfold made of hair that covers his eyes.

if you weren’t sitting in his lap, you’d want him in your drooling mouth. you’d sink down to your knees like the girls in your naughty books and take him down your virgin throat, just so you could look up at satoru and watch the sweat bead down his jawline and run a track over his bobbing adam’s apple. but you’re not and you’ve got a point to prove, so you loop your hair around your other wrist to tighten his restraints and extend a thumb upward from his base to his seedy tip, jamming the pad of it through the slit where he pre forms in thick, creamy pearls. as white as those that come from an oyster.

“that’s it gorgeous, just like that…” satoru leers up at you huskily, voice tinged with neediness that he fails to mask. he seems to like the way you touch him and you’re sure to use a delicate hand when you smooth the supple pad of your thumb over the pad of his sensitive tip, rubbing his opaque precum into it sweetly. “touch me s’more? you can do it… i know you’re shy, can hear your breathing ‘n how heavy it is. shit, you’re new at this.” saliva slows down satoru’s salacious words as he rambles to you with swollen lips and rosy cheeks, angling his head in whatever direction your breath seems to be coming from. 

he’s in tatters, destroyed by a few simple touches with his hard on smearing white across the front of his clothes. you roll your palm over his mushroomed cockhead next to test the waters and take pleasure in admiring the way he trembles, grasping at the arms of the chair you have him strapped to in order to ground himself. it’s torture for satoru to be this patient, killing him slowly from the inside out like a virus spreading across his brain and other vital organs — but it doesn’t mean you’re in any better state. practically dripping in his lap with your panties dampening more and more every time satoru so much as whimpers. past the point of being turned on by the sight of a strong, powerful man weak and blindfolded underneath you.

satoru bucks upward at your command, sucking in a breath as his sensitive, seedy slit bumps your palm once more. “s-shit… please.”

the improper ness of the entire situation sends a zap of electricity to your swelling clit. you’ve only ever imagined being with someone like this as you have seeing the floating lights — touching yourself beneath your skirts and under your painted ceilings whenever you were brave enough. now you’re here, spread over the thick thighs of a possible thief who begs you to jerk him off. “s-shut up,” you hiss as embarrassment and  inexperience begins to shine through the deal you’ve struck with gojo, the fact that he can tell as much and still wants this has you soaked all the way through and aching for friction as well. 

you’ve never been in possession of so much power in your life. mother never let you have it. but right now, you can taste it sparking between you and gojo, smell it in the air teeming mixed with a cocktail of your arousals. in the moment you realise that the silver haired man would cling onto every one of your sugar-coated words (no matter how nervous) if it meant he got the fuck he wanted in the end. and you would get to see your lights too.

“just… tell me what to do,” you say without realising how husky your own voice has gotten. “i promised you your crown, to make you feel good if you took me to see the lights. and i never go back on a promise. s-so tell me.” talking yourself into it and building up some more confidence, you circle over satoru’s bulbous cockhead again — gaze laser focused on the burning bright red colour as it oozes. you know that he likes it and it makes his head spin so much that he starts to fight against the restraint of your hair again. “i won’t let you go, not until this is over. so tell me what i can do to make you cum.” 

despite not being able to see his entire face, gojo’s smug smile says it all — his perfect teeth cheerily on display, contrasting with the flustered pink tint to his cheeks. “cup it, make a fist around my cock so you can jerk me off’a little bit,” a haughty moan scratches at the walls of your captive’s throat when you follow his guidance and finally grip him fully, soft and supple hands easily dwarfed by the size of him. satoru’s shaft may be a little thinner, but he’s thick enough to fill your own throat and cause a stretch to your quivering hole with his balls being round, plump and full of white hot seed saved up just for you. “christ, squeeze my base a lil’ before you get movin’,” at first contact, satoru’s thighs tremble deliciously against your mound, blood rushing to your clit and through the forked veins that spiral down his length. 

your senses are overwhelmed, he smells so good — of peppermint and a musky twang of sex act like dangerous smelling salts or fumes. you could get addicted if you weren’t careful. you’re super aware of each ridge and firm vein that decorates him and as you start to palm satoru steadily, you notice just how sticky your hand is — movements guided by the wet cream of his cock. slipping and sliding as your closed fist moves up and down, up and down, occasionally squeezing the base of him just like he asked. your knuckles brushing the soft bush of pubic hair at his pelvis. you can only imagine how everything feels for him, not being able to see at all.

the thought just barely crosses your mind — too focused on speeding up your soiled hand around gojo just to hear more of his angelic gripes and groans that rise and fall from his heaving chest. how good all of this must feel for the man without being able to see. every touch must make him tick and drip and throb achingly. he must feel weak too, completely vulnerable to anything you might do to him while blindfolded and unable to touch you because of bonds formed by your hair. 

once you set a steady rhythm to your closed fist to jerk him off with, gojo takes a breather to announce his next command — head shaking side to side with moonlight locks sticking to his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the inferno of desire spreading through of his limbs. “now spit on it,” he states bluntly, an obvious dip to the octave in his voice. you can’t possibly imagine why he’d need spit; your hand is already glossed with a shiny layer of precum, tainting your knuckles from the viscosity. 

you swallow thickly, but don’t dare stop pleasuring your captive stranger. “w-what?” 

“are you kidding me just—“ leaning forward as best as he can while held back by the strong locks of your hair, like rope around his wrists. dopamine crackles over your brain like fireworks in an enclosed space at the scene that unfolds next, satoru pursing his lips to spit onto his own milky dick — letting the frothy mix from mouth join the mess that lubes the both of you up where connected. “just spit on it, honey. thought you wanted me to feel it.”  

licking your lips, you rub down satoru’s girth far enough to drag the glob of spit down to his tender weighty balls, that pulse at your gentle touch. the feeling makes satoru’s entire body jolt like an electric shock — a gargled groan clambering out from the depths of his panting chest as his jaw goes slack and mouth falls open. “please. please spit on it, honey. god please.. need you to wet my cock. i need it so bad, promise i’ll be fucking good.” blind but with his remaining senses in tact, gojo remains largely vulnerable to your touch, his entire world tilting on one axis when you grip his dick a little harder at his request. causing a ring of white to gather where the circle of your wrist envelopes him.

at his begging. which you swear makes you gush like a small, erotic stream — your juices sloshing about in the gusset of your panties while your sex goes unattended.

so you nod obediently, tilting your head forward and parting your swollen lips to let a thick, syrupy string of your own spit ooze onto his plump and sore balls, stroking him rapidly to spread it over his creamy tip as well. your spit is contrastingly cool in comparison to the natural lubricant smeared all over your captive’s palpitating dick — causing it to grow impossibly harder. it slickens up your hand, evidence of the silver haired man’s arousal seeping through the fabric of his crumpled shirt and coils of your restrictive hair. neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment — all you can think to do is relish in gojo’s size.

he’s so big, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered how satoru fit entirely inside your tight hole, stretching you out in the new future — earning yourself a fresh wave of liquid lava hot essence to your ruined panties. you dare to dream onwards, picturing the azure eyed stranger fucking you against the walls of the tower in every way the man knew possible… you have no idea what he’s capable of when untied. but the sight of him lazily thrusting into your filthied fist like it’s instinct, following it like a moth to a candle flame, is enough dream fuel to last you a lifetime. even after the deal is complete and the lights are just a distant memory. 

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru to give your wrist a break — walking your fingers up the broad expanse of his built chest to tweak his nipples between your tingling bodies. his entire frame is wracked with a case of shivers, mouth parting in a high-pitched, whiny whimper with strings of saliva connecting its roof to his tongue. you’re so pathetically turned on, drool pooling on your tongue like a hot flash flood. 

it’s why you tighten your grip on your hair and thus his restraints, resulting in satoru staggering forward. closer, panting like a damn dog in rut. drawing your free hand up towards your lips and away from his pecs, the proximity between you becomes so little that satoru can practically smell the musky evidence of sex that you lick from your hand. “oh… you taste so good,” you lament in a dulcet tone, failing to miss the way gojo’s dangerous azure eyes dart about beneath his makeshift blindfold, probably dying to see you get a taste of him.

“d-don’t say that, you’ll make me fuckin’ cum, honey.” he gulps, involuntarily pumping his hips into the air, chasing your hand which he needs so desperately to feel good. “please don’t stop.” while begging you — satoru is the perfect picture of a ruined man, though you’re sure he would say the same about you if you hadn’t strapped your hair over his line of vision. his milky skin glistens as though it’s the very source of light for the silvery moon — illuminated by droplets of sweat from the exertion off fucking your fist like a squelching, welcoming pussy. his cheeks glow warmly with a dusty shade of pink and there’s a red ring forming around his lips from where he’s bitten them to control his wails of ecstasy.

succumbing to the obscenity of it all,  you reach forward and lick a stripe into his hellfire hot mouth. effectively sharing the saltine flavour of gojo’s own precum with him while he languidly sucks all the tang from your pink appendage. his angel white lashes flutter shut at the heaviness of your tongue against his own. the kiss is messy and mismatched, saliva seeps from the corners of your mouth and drags a sticky train down your chin. parting briefly, you spit it into the middle of your palm — happily taking satoru’s cock back into your talented hold and providing a solace to soothe its passionate ache. 

“ngh… i can feel you. f-fuck. feel you tryin’ not to grind against me, sweetheart.” somehow, gojo finds pockets of air to taunt you in — his voice an arousing mix of a raspy whine and cocky tone. “so wet, i can smell you too. so sweet. dripping all over your panties while you jerk me off. do you need that needy pussy taken care of?”

everything he’s said is true, while the man with the sweaty silver locks fought to escape the prison of your hair — desperate to see how you pleased him, you fought the growing pit in your stomach. the urge to use satoru for release. you’d never hit your peak with another person before, only your smaller-than-his fingers whenever mother left for more than a day or two. 

you admit to nothing, continuing to stroke satoru to his own high — his panted moans accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin from your hand fisting him to the high heavens.  “please baby, i wanna help get you off. feel that wet little cunt. let me go, i’ll be so good to you if you let me touch your sweet c—“ 

“n-no! we had a deal. my rules.” you stutter, denying yourself. denying him.

“c’mon sweetheart,” a strained and petulant whine echoes throughout the tower — satoru thrusting shallowly through your closed hand in order to match his rhythm to the flick of your wrist. “please, god, baby. if you won’t let me touch you, or at least see you, then can you put that pretty pussy on my thigh? ride it real good? wanna know how you sound when you’re being pleasured…when you give into it all. please honey, give me somethin’ to work with. anythin’…”

gojo presses, like a disciple begging their god for mercy. begging you for mercy. there’s never been this much power in your reach, the ability to control a man who could easily over power you with your sex makes your mind feel egotistically weighty. your resolve crumbles just a tad, satoru’s neediness  chipping away at its foundation until your hips instinctively position themselves perfectly over the swell of his right thigh. how bad could it be? giving him an inch when you’ve taken a mile from him. mother says you’ve never been good at lying and right now, you can no longer pretend like your hips aren’t dying to slide back and forth over your capture like a desperate whore. 

like you don’t want to use him for more than just the floating lights, but to soothe the fire lit in your lower stomach — trailblazing down to your throbbing clit.

something clicks in your mind, all of your inhibitions are dashed from the tower as you briefly release satoru’s pathetically wet cock and restraints to pull up the skirts of your silk purple dress, exposing a slither of supple fat at your thighs. hurried movements deliver the same treatment to satoru’s pants. “this… this doesn’t change anything. doesn’t mean i’m letting you go just yet. it won’t affect our deal.” you warn the intruder but all sense of venom and authority is lost, evaporating into the temperate air and ending up as a piteous, meek mewl when your exposed mound makes first contact with man’s naked thigh.

if the sound of ruffling fabric hadn’t caught your hostage’s attention; the heat of your sopping sex against his moonlit skin definitely did. “fuck…that’s it. there we go, honey. put it on me,” a tinge of amusement lays evident in his gravelly voice, sets of slender digits peeking out of their hairy restraints to map out your doughy thighs and crawl their way up to the source of your essence. “i just knew you were wet for me, can feel how turned on you are.” as best as he can, gojo shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit — cooing in satisfaction when you ooze against him in response. you almost despise the way he laughs up at you condescendingly, as if he’s the one in control irregardless or the fact that you’re on top. 

maybe it’s the dopamine rush that makes your dynamic unclear — neither of you wanting to give up or take the lead. the lust fizzing in the cracks and crevices of your brain make you cute and pliant for gojo but hair woven over his body keeps him subdued and thirsty for you. 

like a gravitational pull, you buck downwards on the silver haired stranger’s toned thigh and smear the beginnings of your arousal all over him. you’ve barely been touched, oozing in viscous waves as you lose control over your body, rutting harder and faster. “watch your mouth.” you cry out, volume barely above a whisper, bottom lip trembling because it feels so good to use someone this way. 

resuming your hold on his dripping cock again as you rock your hips — you rearrange the loop of hair keeping gojo in place, covering his eyes just as your hair begins  to glow gold in time with your symphony of moans. “right, right, sorry. this doesn’t change things,” he flexes his thigh underneath your syrupy sex, strawberry tongue slipping out to wet his lips while your words fade away into a pretty little sigh. “but you wanna smack that messy clit all over my thigh, don’cha wanna make it creamy… even messier?” satoru all but jeers, the wisps of a smirk rising on the horizon of his lips now that your hips have formed their own rhythm over his leg.

they speed up their passionate dance on him, beads of glistening essence pearling between your two fat pussy lips. the slick smack of your naked cunt against his muscular thigh caused his dick to twitch in your hand — gojo thrusting up when you thrust down. he tilts his head down, catching a whiff of your heavenly scent in the air between you both. you hate that he’s right just as much as he hates not being able to see you and touch you properly — only catching glimpses of the golden light sparkling within your hair like a halo from underneath his makeshift blindfold.

you feel like you might be going insane, trapped underneath a non existent touch. like being pulled under waves of euphoria with aching lungs that don’t get enough air. near angelic screams of delight rip through the base of your throat contrast with the way you sinfully hump satoru and jerk him off to the point of his dick forming a creaminess in your hand. he bounces his thigh faster the higher you moan, rewarding you for all the hard work you put in to make this deal worth it.

“you’re no better… you’re filthy,” 

“that’s right honey, so dirty. all cause of you. messy with you, why won’t you let me see?”  the captive rambles, torn between fighting to break out of the bondage and listening to the lewd sticky noises your mound makes when gliding smoothly over his paled skin. satoru growls at how roughly your body moves above his own, face contorting lecherously, cheeks red and lips puffy — a mess from how long he’s been holding out for you. he’s a mess. it’s true. he won’t even deny it. “now fuckin’ stroke it baby, stroke me to the rhythm of your pussy bouncing up and down for me…please…” 

simpering slightly, gojo’s fingers twitch against the arm of the chair — itching to grab at your ass and slam you down against his shaky thigh. if you palm him more, grip him tighter… he can better imagine the warmth of your cunt if he got the chance to slip inside. for now, you oblige his request, pulling tighter on the bindings of your hair while you them use as leverage — throwing yourself down on satoru as the lewd pap of your drooling pussy fills the musky tower air. “that’s it honey, up ‘n down. uppp ‘n  down. keep goin’ just like that.” 

you don’t have the energy to chide him, jostling about in satoru’s lap with wet whimpers bubbling up on the seams of your lips. pleasure begins to twist nice and tightly in your tummy, scalding you from the inside out and burning any logical thought from your brain. head beginning to roll to the side, you think about fully submitting to your capture. letting go entirely — you’d be satisfied. you’d get to cum. your deal might fall through but at least you’d get to see a different kind of light. 

easily, you could just give up. it wouldn’t be hard to, not  when gojo firmly plants his feet into the tiled floor and the power from his hips has hip rutting upwards to chase your fleshlight-like fist. a beefy cry battles its way out of his broad chest, vibrating through you as his quivering thigh juts your pretty, syrupy cunt every time you lift off of him. 

it’s the perfect cycle; the ideal push and pull. you squeal in ecstasy, the hood of your clit dragged back so that your sensitive bundle of nerves is exposed to the blistering heat of satoru’s cool toned skin — taking you closer and closer to your high. streaks of your hair glow brighter than before, more intensely the louder you moan and just like they would if you were singing to help mother or while she brushed your hair. despite the strength in the light of your hair, everything else about you weakens, your grip on your hair, the pace of your hand as you palm satoru to the high heavens. you can’t think to care about any of it when you’re this close. 

if mother could see you now, you don’t think you’d mind if she was disappointed in you. 

but then you’re ripped away from the edge of cloud nine. satoru stops just short of the dam threatening to break. his thigh completely still with your juices splattering against him once your own hips come to a hault. a petulant howl echoes through the flower, frustrated tears stinging in your waterline as you feel your orgasm slip away from you cruelly. “what the fuck satoru?” 

“sorry honey….” he laughs heartily, a slight rasp coating each syllable from each word that leaves his mouth. “don’t think i like this deal very much. just ‘cause you feel good doesn’t mean you can forget about me,” gesturing to the way you gush on and stain his thigh, the captive with the silver moon hair shrugs. “you don’t get to cum or see the lights unless i get to see you.”

gojo’s been good so far, hardly challenging you this whole time and instead, goading you into a world of pleasure you would have never experienced under mother’s watchful eye. instead, he was content to have his cock touched and his name wailed a hundred different ways — he’d shown no indication of breaking your deal aside from this. so in turn, you halfheartedly let go of the loop of hair that kept his sapphire stained eyes away from the world and held his wrists down to the arms of his chair.  the restraints loosen just enough to please him and do what he needs to do. not enough to give him complete freedom. 

“fuck the deal.” you cast it all to the side, relentlessly resuming grinding all over gojo — pushing your hips back as far as his knee to smother your swollen pleasure against it.

this time, satoru is able witness the way your bambi doe eyes roll back into your emptying skull. 

with newfound motivation, the intruder begins quickly blinking away any darkness that caused a fuzz at the edge of his vision, gojo’s gaze immediately trickles down to your clenching hole, a treasure kept safe between your nectar glossed thighs; watching you ride him. “god, if i had my hands on you i’d rub that clit until you were squirting… i bet you’d like that, if i ruined that pussy. made her mine — you'd like that.” gojo’s stare returns to your eyes, flashing you his pearly whites through a condescending smile. his rushed and rambled teasing words make your creamy cunt wetter; body betraying you to violently shake above him. 

though you find strength to keep up your end of the bargain. you’d sworn to make satoru see stars, encapsulating his rigid, sloppy dick between your nimble fingers once more. you even spit on it, earning a haughty bleat from between the man’s pretty (yet chatty) mouth. his sturdy body seizes underneath your touch as you take a firmer grip on him, palming him faster and faster — seedy, hot precum webbing over your knuckles once more. that’s when you finally get to see it. how murky and dark your captive’s vibrant eyes grow, like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

the rapture that had once melted away from you like butter in a pan begins to blossom within you once again — willing you to beg for a chance at a real orgasm. “yes satoru! oh, yes please!” you squeak, short of breath and not entirely sure or what you’re even begging for. the golden light emitting from strands of your hair flare up again and your pussy throbs with an aching need to hit release. “please…”

a self congratulatory thread of cobalt lust weaves its way between the darkening midnight flecks in this eyes. “now look who’s begging,” clicking his tongue, gojo cocks his head to the side, relishing in his ability to finally look at you. drink in the way your chest bounces beneath the bodice of your lace orchid gown. it’s completely fucked, darkened by a crude mix of your arousals but it’s the most beautiful thing satoru has ever seen — only serving to rial him up even more… his own orgasm coming up over the hill. it burns at his internal organs, the lining of his stomach and the only way to alleviate this almost painful yet delectable twinge to his system is through you. “bet you’re only being nice ‘cause you’re close. well guess what? me too, be a good girl, honey, and cum for me.” he says, voice rising in both pitch and breathiness through his gritted teeth. 

he’s going to cum. 

and you’re too far gone to form a response with words just yet. you stop your own ministrations, payback for edging you earlier. his own cock dribbles pitifully as you rip his high away from him like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. gojo thrashes in his hair in response, azure eyes wild and almost wet with a sheen of tears — just as desperate to cum ad you are. “wh-what the fuck was that for?” he winges as though he’s a child on punishment, slender hips rising up to chase your soiled hand and perfect grip — shaft standing needily at attention. “honey…”

“you don’t get to cum until i get to cum. so either you work with me, satoru, or we’ll go all day.” you snap, slowly working your drenched cunt over the meat of his thigh once again, your puffy folds spread either side of it — squelching with the way you salaciously wind your hips all over him. 

satoru basks in the sight, tongue poking out tauntingly between his teeth as he decides to test the waters. “fine, but at least let me help,” he suggests, watching eagerly as you throw your head back in the purest form of pleasure and grind on him harder. it’s clear as day that you need just as much of a push to cum as he does and he plans on giving it to you in just one condition. “untie me.”

“deal.” chewing on your lower lip, you let more of your hair unwind your glowing hair from all points that keep gojo strapped to the chair. enough for more of his hands to escape. then, he’s on you within a flash, hot tongue swirling its way over your clothed bosom and biting at your peaked nipples while his hands shoot to the globes of your ass so that he can drag you in harsh circles across his lap. he’s ravenous, out of control, as if he’s been waiting for this moment the entire time. 

somewhere along the way, in one final burst of passion, your mouths find each other again — swapping streams of saliva as you lose yourselves to sex crazed minds teaming with lust hormones. with your lips smacking and bodies moving against each other in a delicious bump and grind — satoru forces a large hand between you both, fumbling against your cotton panties. the sound he lets out when he finally, finally gets his hands on your puffy clit is glutoral and animalistic, the simple touch sending a shock wave of electricity across every one of your synapses. dazing you for good. 

you bear witness to the silver haired stranger losing his mind, falling from grace like an angel with blackened wings. and for you, he does the same, commiting the sight of your glowing halo-like strands of hair to memory — the coils that shine brighter the more you sing and sin for him.

he can’t stop gabbling, gargling on the spit you pour into one another — followed by howls and screams of pleasure. “oh you like that, hm? i bet that feels so good… so sweet ‘n wet under my touch.” hot fingers belonging to satoru pick up the pace between your sticky folds, flicking your clit feverishly and writing his claim against your cunt at the same time that you jam a thumb into the tricking slit of his dirty red cockhead. the pair of you jolt in one another’s arms, taking one too many steps towards the edge of cloud nine before you’re even ready for you.  

“oh sweetheart, listen to you, sound so good. wish i could have you on my fat cock instead of my thigh. next time yeah? you’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you? gonna get my thigh nice and wet?” gojo growls, voice hoarse and layering perfectly over your whistle tone whines. his digits slow and start their greedy assault on your sex, edging you further and further as you wriggle and writhe at his words. 

the world escapes you, the knot of lust that had been warping within you finally coming undone. “gods… s-satoru! please!” you shriek as though your voice is a  gust of stormy wind — reverberating off of painted cobblestone walls. your free hand (no longer trapped by loops of your own hair) darts out to grab the intruder’s wrist, thighs locking around the hand that works you through an earth shattering high. the dam finally bursts, forcing open floodgates as your pussy releases streams of clear arousal in small spurts that soaks his entire lap and clothes.

gojo has no idea where to look, the smallest glimpse of your orgasm sending him hurtling over the edge as well — he doesn’t relent, viciously circling your precious pleasure mug and drawing out your release to match his own. his thick length spasms in your tiny hand, plump balls no longer able to contain the viscous, hot seed he has saved up all for you. just for you. he cums with a shout, abdomen contracting under your never-ending supple touch, ropes of white hot endlessly shoot from his overstimulated tip almost as though he’s a faucet that’s never been turned off.

he swears he almost blacks out, a white and sweaty mop of hair collapsing onto your shoulder as you slump in gojo’s lap — exhausted. as the air in the room cools, your hair no longer glowing and your chests syncing up to heave in an even rise and fall — you bring a lazy hand to the back of satoru’s head, toying with coils of his baby hair to help you both calm down.

a moment of quiet passes before you find the energy to whisper. “will you take me to see those floating lights now?” 

your innocent question causes satoru to snort sleepily, pressing a wet chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek as the sound breaks free from his cherry-bitten lips. “a deal’s a deal, honey. as soon as you untie me… we’ll hit the road.” 

neither of you move a muscle, however, still recovering from the sinful act you had just shared. 

you use the time to reflect, a sense of excitement dawning on you. you were going to leave the tower. you were going to see the floating lights on your birthday. and most importantly, you were directly disobeying your mother to prove your capableness. and all you had to do to get your fairytale happy ending was give a handjob to a very handsome, very willing stranger. 

the end.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[onmyyan]

Yandere DC Purge Au

A/N: inspired by a bot on janitor ai here's the link reader is this universes wolverine fem reader, yandere themes

Getting home from the Titans Tower, you shrug off your brown leather biker jacket, letting the heavy garment fall to the floor with an audible thump.

Boot clad feet accidentally kick a small black elegantly wrapped package that been slipped through your mail slot. (E/c) Eyes full of curiosity, you bend down to pick up the box, it was a little bigger than your hand, unable to fight the curiosity, you threw your helmet on the couch and used your sharp pointer finger nail to tear a seam into the paper, your mind moved a mile a minute as five neat letters in black envelopes were revealed.

Your heart falls to your stomach, you knew what these letters meant, what they entailed, you'd been chosen, and not by one yandere, but five. You didn't bother to read the letters, setting them down on your coffee table like the paper was going to bite you, sitting on the couch with a groan, your shoulders coiled like a animal ready to pounce. In all your 24 years you'd never had to deal with a yandere, while you were aware of them of course, your particular lifestyle didn't allow for such things, you were a hero after all, you couldn't help but tense, yes you were a formidable fighter, yes you had confidence in your abilities to defend yourself but five separate psycho's? That was a lot to deal with even for you.

You had a day to prepare, that's all the decency the government allowed people like her. A day to prepare for the insanity that was the Purge. All former plans for a quiet week off patrols were gone, replaced by your fierce determination. You wouldn't be caught, you'd been caged enough for your lifetime.

The next morning you make your way into the Titans Tower business as usual, you had no idea who the senders of the letters were so you kept your guard up.

It was a tradition for the team to hang out one last time before the purge, since all crime, including all yandere crime, was legal, the team technically got a week long vacation. So they liked to hangout the day before those infamous sirens would ring out across the city. The whole team was there, doing their usual things when you were approached by Rachel Roth aka Raven.

"Your mind is.. guarded tonight, are you alright?" Her soft monotone voice calls out dragging you from your mind, "Yeah just ..tense about tomorrow ya know?" Your voice gruff yet feminine, you didn't mind the fact that she was peaking into your head, having long since gotten used to her antics, instead you lean back on the counter surveying the room with a calculated gaze. You kept your thoughts clear knowing she had a penchant for reading your mind without permission, you didn't want to tell the team about the letters for a multitude of reasons, the main one being you didn't know if it was one of them who sent it. Of course you trusted your team but you'd learned long ago to trust yourself before anyone else.

And your enhanced animal like senses told you danger was a foot. "Any big plans for the week?" You ask casually still observing your other teammates.

"I rented a cabin in the snow, very tranquil, very secluded.." she paused a moment her dark eyes scanning your features, "You could come with me- if you don't want to spend the purge alone?" The question hung heavy in the air, the intensity in her gaze made you smirk, no way in hell were you taking a trip right now.

"I actually have some plans already." You smiled at the dark haired sorceress, trying to soothe the wound of denial. "Well if you at any point change your mind simply call for me and I'll be there." She says flatly, but her steel gaze was as intense as ever.

"Definitely." You respond before pushing off the counter, "I'm gonna hit the gym, see you later Rav."

'Well that was something' you thought to yourself, she'd always been attached to you, finding comfort in your troubled past, but she'd never looked so..like that before.

Shaking off the encounter you find yourself in the gym toned (s/c) arms stretching across your chest in preparation, a training dummy standing across from you. Just before you throw the first punch Conner aka Superboy walks in the room his arms crossed. "You wanna keep playing with that thing or you want a real fight?" The tall wall of a man asks walking closer to you, this wasn't out of the ordinary as you were one of the only people on the team who could keep up with Conner physically.

"let's go." You say getting into a fighting stance, your feet wide, fists in front of your face.

The spar was intense as usual with him, he didn't hold back, because of your healing factor he didn't need to, and you preferred it that way. You two danced around the mat swiping at each other, trading blows that would send a normal human to the grave. Your adamantium covered skeleton allowed you to land hits on him that actually sent him reeling. Your breath came out in heavy pants as Conner made an expert dodge, he sweeps his leg under you catching you off guard enough to stumble backwards, he grips your tank top stopping you from hitting the mat staring at you for a second too long before bringing you into a head lock, panting in your ear, "You give?" You could hear the smirk on his face, you growl under your breath, "Fuck off.", elbowing him hard enough to make him release you, instead of getting angry he just grins at you looking like an animal about to pounce.

The spar ends in a draw both of you covered in sweat, "you wanna hang out tomorrow?" He asks wiping his forehead, you pause thinking over the fact that tomorrow was the first night of the Purge, sure is didn't start until 7pm but it was risky as hell to go about business as usual on the day of.

"Sorry big guy I'm fully booked." The lie flows off your tongue easily enough, you couldn't risk getting Conner involved in whatever the yanderes had planned for you tomorrow, you also couldn't rule him out as a suspect yet.

The rest of your day is full of similar interactions with your team, Garfield aka Beast Boy had invited you over to his place for a gaming fueled sleepover, pouting when you decline, Kori aka Starfire had offered to straight up stay with you for the duration of the purge, looking absolutely confused as to why you'd said no.

The day ends with you gathering your things as you wouldn't be in the tower for a week. Damian, the current Robin and leader of your team walks over before you can leave. "I assume you've made preparations?" The enigmatic man spoke in that usual Damian tone that you could never quite get a read on. "I'll be fine." Was your simple answer. His green eyes studied you, taking in your response. He simply smirks at you before bidding you goodnight.

You got zero sleep that night the rainy Gotham skies a background to your inner turmoil. Your instincts said to run so you were. A few minutes before the sirens go off, you're in your garage, a duffle bag thrown over your shoulders, when you notice your bike's tires have been slashed, both of them deflated.

Cursing under your breath you steady your nerves before heading back up to your apartment. Navigating the streets of Gotham on the first night of the purge was a bad idea even for a self healing mutant with adamantium claws like yourself. Instead you choose to take the situation as it came, barricading the front door with a bookshelf, you pour yourself a double shot of whiskey and light the cigar you'd been saving for a special occasion.

The shrill terror inducing sound of the annual purge sirens go off on schedule, you remain unflinching as you prepare yourself for the inevitable encounter.

About five minutes after the bell stops ringing there's a loud knock on your door, the handle jingling seconds after, "(Y/n), open the door." The command was given pleadingly. You recognized that voice, the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. You were prepared for some nobody to try and claim you. Not him.

"We're getting in there no matter what so you may as well just," a loud bang shook the wood, "Open up." A second voice spoke out, this one just as familiar as the first, your heart fell to your stomach at the realization, the other three didn't need to speak for you to guess they were out there.

Your eyes quickly scan the window of your apartment, you were on the third floor but it was an easy drop for someone with your healing ability.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be." The third gruff voice speaks before a gunshot is heard, the bastard had shot out your front door lock, a blue eye peaked in the hole locking onto you instantly a predatory look in the gaze. "There you are kitty." He says before glaring at the bookshelf in his way, it doesn't take much for him to start throwing his shoulder into the wood of the door.

"Don't scare her." The fourth voice chimed in but did nothing to stop the man barreling into your apartment. By the time the five entered you had already booked it out the window, your broken ankles healing as you sprint down the dimly lit Gotham streets.

"She's on the move." Bruce finally speaks, his authoritative voice left no room for argument. Damian was the first to act scaling down the apartment so fast he skipped some steps, he was a man on a mission.

Dick was quick to follow flipping out the window and landing gracefully before giving chase. Tim quickly pulled out a tablet tracking your every move.

Jason snarls at the chase, running after you like a beast on the hunt. Bruce follows behind in the batmobile with Tim guiding him to your location in the passenger seat, each man's heart burning for you.

The night had just begun and you were now playing a game you wanted no part in.

[k-nayee]

Wife to the Winds Epic: The Musical | iiii

wc: 4.4k a/n: whew! this is it y'all, the final and last part of the WTTW series. I hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did <3 Here's the animation for this part (and honestly the main inspiration for this entire series) sidenote: In this AU, when Odysseus left for war Telemachus was 9 years old.

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ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

The rolling sea churned beneath the ship as waves sprayed mist over the deck.

By this point you had gained full respect of the crew—especially those who owed their lives to you.

Now as the ship rocked over rough waves, you steadied yourself by the railing, ignoring the heated discussion unfolding between Odysseus and Eurylochus.

Polites was caught in the middle, a concerned spectator of their throwing words. He would cast you a nervous glance every now and then as a silent call for help.

But you wouldn't know. Your eyes were locked onto the dark clouds circling overhead in the sky and the ever-approaching mountain-like formation of Aeolia.

Even among the chaos of the storm the sky palace loomed like a beacon—massive and otherworldly against the darkening horizon.

Aeolus’ island was unlike anything you’d ever seen. It floated above the waves with its lively beauty, anchored to nothing but the whims of the winds themselves.

Approaching footsteps behind you grew louder. You turn to see Odysseus and Eurylochus approaching with their argument trailing along them.

"I can't have you planting seeds of doubt every step of the way," Odysseus said to his Second in Command, every word spoken edged with unyielding authority. "I can't have you disagreeing each route. I need you to agree and comply without question or we risk all of us dying in this. Do you understand?"

A tense silence settled between them. For a moment Eurylochus held his gaze, the frown on his face fading to resignation.

“Okay,” he muttered almost reluctantly.

Odysseus seemed to release a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Thank you."

A shout from one of the men broke through and all of you turned. The crew had managed to hook several ropes onto the cliff edges of Aeolia, securing the ship in place.

Odysseus turned to you, his features darkening as he prepared to leave for his encounter with Aeolus.

“Stay here,” his command carried a weight of finality. “This is no place for you nor is it safe.”

Frustration welled within but you bit back any protest.

Watching Odysseus hoist himself up the ropes, you felt the weight of all that had happened over the past months—the times your instincts had protected the crew, the risks you’d taken.

'Would he be on this journey at all if not for me defying his orders?'

You turned to Eurylochus and Polites who were already watching you with a mixture of concern and uncertainty.

“You know as well as I do that if I hadn’t disobeyed Odysseus before, many of you would be with Hades by now.” The words carried confidence you’d earned through hard-won respect. “Odysseus may not admit it but he needs me. We all know it.”

The two exchanged a silent conversation before Polites gave a small nod.

Eurylochus folded his arms, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through his normally guarded expression.

“Alright,” he murmured, “but keep close.”

With a nod you gripped the rope tightly and began to climb, your heart thudding in time with each pull and stretch.

The air grew colder the higher you went, an exhilarating chill that bit at your skin.

But when you reached the top and hoisted yourself over the edge that coldness was replaced with awe.

Aeolus’ realm spread out before you like a dream—a world sculpted from wind and sky.

Clouds coiled and twisted to form walls and archways, each one alive with a shimmer of captured light.

Wind chimes of crystal and glass that hung suspended in mid-air harmonized with the constant rush of air that whipped past.

Towers of vast storm clouds and statues of mist shifted with each gust of wind.

You marveled at the beauty and wonder of the place. The sights and sounds were nearly overwhelming but you forced yourself to focus.

From behind a cluster of silvery trees you heard Odysseus’ voice, followed by a low rich laugh that sent shivers down your spine.

Silently creeping closer you slip behind a low wall of crystalline stone allowing the view of your Captain standing face-to-face with the Wind God.

Beside him floated two beautiful wind nymphs, their features delicate and movements as light as air.

They twirled around the God like ribbons caught in a breeze with playful knowing smiles.

Aeolus himself was a sight to behold.

Tall and willowy, his hair moved with the rhythm of the wind as  his soft and flowing robes made him seem less a man and more a living embodiment of the sky itself.

 “Let’s play a game!”

A visibly wary Odysseus took a cautious step forward. “A game?”

“Yes that's what I'm serving,” his smile widened as his nymphs swayed alongside him mirroring his amusement. “And if you win you’ll get what you’re yearning.”

"...deal."

A decorated leather bag appears cradled in the immortal's hands. The bag seemed to pulse with energy as though it barely contained the forces within.

“Take a look right here at this bag. It has the winds of the storm all trapped. All you gotta do is not open this bag.”

Odysseus eyed the bag warily. “Sounds too easy. What’s the catch?”

You see a flicker of something sly in the Ruler of the Wind's eyes—a twist of his lips that gave away the God’s true nature.

“Ha ha ha!” Aeolus’s laughter rang out light and carefree. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer...”

His voice trailed off into a lyrical hum as the nymphs joined in harmony. “Never really know who you can trust!”

The words sent a chill down your spine. You could see Odysseus bristle slightly at the implications.

Aeolus, noticing his reaction, flashed a smile filled with a playful malevolence. He leans in as if sharing a secret. “If they wanna get the bag open you gotta say no sir.”

The nymphs pop up behind the Greek King. “Sometimes killing is a must!”

“What?”

But Aeolus and his nymphs continued, their song unbroken, their voices dipping into a darker melody. “Cause the end always justifies the means. Friends turn into foes and rivalries...”

“So keep your friends close and your enemies closer” His smile was something between a grin and a threat. “Never really know who you can trust.”

“Never really know who you can trust!”

A chill ran down your spine. Unable to hold back any longer, you decide it was time to make yourself known.

Stepping out from behind the bushes with careful steps you softly called, “Odysseus?”

Your voice broke through the tension catching the attention of all present. Odysseus turned with furrowed brows, but it was Aeolus whose reaction was most striking.

His eyes widened as he took you in and a faint pink flush crept across his cheeks. The winds around him stirred and eddied—reflecting his sudden interest.

In an instant Aeolus floated toward you, his movements impossibly graceful as though the air itself had carried him to you.

He looked down at you as if he could scarcely believe what he saw.

The nymphs fluttered around him. Similar to their own master's fascination, their nimble fingers reach out as though to touch the air around you.

“Who...who are you?” he asked hushed and reverently. His hand lift almost instinctively, fingers curling as if he could pull you closer with only a thought. 

“A beauty like yours and no God has claimed you? Not even Zeus himself?”

His tone was laced with admiration, but beneath it lay something else—possessiveness perhaps.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his gaze. 'A God enraptured...by me? '

The idea of a divine being finding you so captivating was a dangerous thrill. But as the initial shock faded your wits returned, recognizing the opportunity.

If Aeolus wanted to play games you were more than willing to play along.

You softened your expression. With a tilt of your head you meet his gaze through lowered lashes

“Me?” you murmured, letting your voice carry the perfect note of awe and shyness. “A mere mortal to catch the eye of a God as glorious as you?”

Aeolus’s eyes sparkled in delight by your response. He leaned in slightly, his gaze intent as if waiting for something more.

You let the moment build and step closer as though drawn to him with a whisper of invitation in your eyes.

Then, just as you seemed close enough to brush your lips against his, you gracefully twirled away to a stop next to Odysseus.

The shift in your movements left Aeolus visibly stunned and you couldn’t resist a subtle satisfied smile as you watched his reaction.

“How deeply flattering is is...” You placed your hand gently over your heart, letting your eyes shine with wistful regret. “But I am already bound to my dear King Odysseus. Sworn to remain by his side. Oh! It breaks my heart so.”

Aeolus’s eyes sharpened at your words. His attention moved from you to Odysseus in a new kind of interest.

“Oh truly?” The weight of the God’s gaze settled heavily on the King of Ithaca as a slow calculating smile pulled at his lips.

“In that case let us make another deal, King of Ithaca.” He straightened as he turned to fully face the Greek Hero. “I will command my winds to carry you safely to Ithaca unchallenged by storm or squall. But in return...”

His gaze returned to you. “Once her feet touch the sands of Ithaca, she shall be mine—a bride as a token of goodwill.”

Odysseus stiffened in shock. The idea of choosing between his mission to return home and leave you to another made his mouth fill with distaste.

'After all she has done for me and my men...'

The son of Laërtes' lips curled as refusal sat at the tip of his tongue. “I—”

You place a steadying hand on his arm, your fingers firm but gentle, signaling him to stop.

Meeting his gaze you simply offer a faint nod. Odysseus hesitated, his expression softening as he read the resolve in your eyes.

Finally, he turned to Aeolus and nodded. “Very well. We have a deal.”

The God's face lit up in a radiant almost childlike joy. He let out a delighted laugh before throwing his arms wide as if to embrace the entire sky.

Without warning he swept you into his arms and lifted you into the air, twirling you around.

The world spun in a blur of color and sound as the wind caught your hair and clothes making you feel weightless.

His nymphs whirled around you both; their laughter blending with his in a symphony of wind and joy.

When he set you back down on your feet, the Wind God was mere inches away, his eyes soft and filled with something almost tender.

His hand came up to gently cradle your face, his thumb tracing a line just below your cheekbone as he whispered, “Soon...”

With that single word a delicate ring of cloud appeared around your neck: light and cool against your skin like the softest silk brushing against you.

You instinctively touched it and felt the tickle of mist against your fingers. The cloud ring was ethereal—a reminder of the promise that had been made.

Glancing at Odysseus, you spot the faint distress in his eyes and offer him a reassuring smile.

For now the deal was struck. And with Aeolus’s favor on your side, Ithaca was finally within reach.

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

The path down to the ship was silent with the gravity of your decision pressing down on you like the weight of a storm.

As you and Odysseus descended he stole glances at you, his face shadowed with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

Unfortunately he couldn't speak his mind because the moment you both reached the deck, countless crewmen began to cluster around in curiosity.

Elpenor, one of Odysseus most loyal crewman, pushed to the front with worry etched into his expressions.

“Captain what’s happening?” His asked, gaze dropping down to the object held tightly in Odysseus's hand. “What’s trapped in that bag?”

Odysseus drew a breath. "Something dangerous friends, we mustn't lag. It's—"

"Treasure!"

Your heart stopped and you spun around just in time to catch sight of  the two wind nymphs, their ghostly forms dissolving into the wind.

As they faded they shot you a pair of sly knowing smiles. "Buh-bye~"

The effect on the crew was immediate. Greed gleamed in their eyes as they leaned forward.

Whispers of excitement rippled through the crowd.

“Treasure you say?” one of the crewmen licked his lips as he eyed the bag.

Another voice chimed in eagerly, “What could it be? Gold? Jewels?”

"Well open the bag Captain!"

"Yeah let's see what you got!"

Several of the crew members took eager steps forward, their hands twitching with the urge to reach out.

“No! Do not!” Odysseus snarled with an severe expression. His voice rang out sharply, cutting through the growing excitement. “Everybody listen closely. See how this bag is closed?” He held it up firmly. “That’s how it’s supposed to be. This bag doesn’t contain treasure—it holds the storm inside. It must not be touched.”

There was a long pause as the crew absorbed his words.

They didn’t look convinced. But once wary glance at Odysseus’s stern expression and they reluctantly broke away with grumbles as they returned to their tasks.

Yet you could see the gleam of suspicion in their eyes, their greedy curiosity far from satisfied.

Odysseus' jaw clenched in frustration. Seeing Eurylochus and Polites standing nearby his face hardened with a new determination.

“Eurylochus, Polites: we can’t afford to let the treasure rumor fly. Not a single word of it.”

Eurylochus’s expression grew grim and he gave a determined nod. “Understood Captain.”

He turned and began ordering the men to prepare the sails, his voice sharp and unyielding as he barked commands.

Polites lingered to offer a strained apologetic smile. “We’ll try to keep them in line,” he murmured before hurrying off to assist Eurylochus.

Odysseus let out a sigh, his shoulders finally relaxing as the tension began to ease.

But then his gaze drifted back to you and his eyes fell on the faint cloud ring still resting around your neck—visible proof of the promise he’d made with Aeolus. 

"Why did you agree to this?" His sorrowful eyes searched yours.

You met his gaze steadily. "Aeolus is infatuated and I’m nothing but a passing fascination to him. His promise of safe passage may be the only way to see you all home.”

You look to the sealed bag in his hands then back to him. “Having him focused on me hopefully stops him from tempting the crew anymore than he already has. You all get to go home Odysseus—and that’s what matters.”

Odysseus considered your words before his expression melts with admiration and gratitude.

“You’ve sacrificed much for us,” he murmured, touched by your foresight. “To keep us safe you’ve bound yourself to a God.”

There was a somber pride in his gaze and for a fleeting moment you saw a hint of sadness. Still he was deeply grateful.

With a solemn nod he set his jaw with renewed resolve. “I will guard this bag myself to make sure your sacrifice is not in vain.”

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Over the next nine days Odysseus kept his promise. He did not sleep, and even when his eyes grew heavy his grip remained firm.

As the days passed you couldn’t help but notice the cloud ring moving on your body. 

Halfway to Ithaca the cloud ring settled on your upper arm, forming a delicate band around your bicep, barely perceptible yet still cool against your skin.

With each shift of the misty band the weight of Aeolus’s claim grew more tangible—silent countdown marking each mile toward Ithaca.

By the tenth day you could see exhaustion settling heavily on Odysseus. He fought to keep his eyes open but the days without sleep were taking their toll.

At dawn, just as a soft glow of sunrise bathed the deck, you noticed him beginning to doze, head dipping ever so slightly as his grip on the bag loosened.

That was when you saw them: several crew members creeping forward with greed shining in their eyes.

Two men stood on lookout duty, glancing back at Eurylochus and Polites who were distracted by the other crew members with carefully timed questions and complaints about minor ship problems.

The rest surrounded Odysseus quietly, their eyes fixed on the bag as if it held the promise of riches.

Casting one last glance around to ensure they were unnoticed, the sailor closest reach out with trembling hands toward the bag.

Heart pounding you leapt to your feet. In a flash you crossed the deck, dagger in hand, and positioned yourself between the crewmen and the bag.

“Stop!” you hissed, Your free hand went down to grab and clutch the bag tightly against your chest as you leveled a fierce glare at each man. “Do you have any idea what you almost cost us?”

One of the men sneered but his defiance wavered under your fierce gaze. “We only wanted to see what’s in it.” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

“See? See?!” you spat in disdain. “What do you think Aeolus placed inside? These are winds bound by the hand of a God! Open it and you would unleash storms strong enough to send us all to the depths.”

The men shrank back as their defiance crumbled into shame the more they processed the gravity of their actions.

Just then Odysseus stirred awake, his eyes snapping open at the sound of your voice. “Wha...?”

Taking in the scene—the dagger in your hand, the bag clutched protectively to your chest, and the men standing sheepishly before you—his expression hardened.

“You...fools!” Odysseus growled. “Do you understand what you nearly did?!”

The men hung their heads as Odysseus continued to speak with a  fury that left them visibly shaken.

“Aeolus gave us a chance to return home—each of you has a family waiting, a future. And yet you would risk it all because of your greed?” His gaze was unyielding and each word hit like a hammer on stone. “One gust from this bag would have thrown us back to the depths of the sea and we would never see Ithaca again.”

The men murmured apologies, their faces red with shame as they backed away, visibly chastised.

You let out a breath as you sheathed your dagger, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders as the threat passed.

Odysseus stepped forward. “Let this be a lesson you remember well. Disobedience...distrust—these are poisons that will kill us all before any sword or storm. Your lack of discipline nearly cost us Ithaca, nearly costed us everything after all we've been through.”

Just as he finished a shout from the ship's crow's nest broke the tension. “Land ahead!”

The cry sent a ripple of excitement through the crew, their earlier shame momentarily forgotten.

They scrambled toward the bow and you turned with Odysseus to catch sight of homeland just beyond the horizon.

Ithaca—finally within reach. Something that meant freedom for the men and for Odysseus.

And yet for you it was meant something else entirely.

You tightened your grip on the railing.

Glancing down you saw the cloud ring had shifted once more; sliding down from your forearm to your wrist, its misty band now clasped around you like a bracelet.

As the crew rushed to prepare for docking Odysseus found his way to your side. Together, you both stared at the nearing shores in silence.

The Greek King looked almost somber as though the sight of his homeland stirred memories long buried.

After a long contemplative pause, he finally speaks. “The last time I saw those shores...Telemachus was just a boy of nine.” A bittersweet smile touched his lips. “I wonder what kind of man he’s grown into. If he’ll even recognize me...”

You offer a faint smile when he turned his gaze to you but it did nothing to stop the sadness.

He searched your face as though memorizing it and then said, “I am endlessly grateful to you—for everything you’ve done. For the men and for me. All of this...” He looks away as though unable to face you directly. “...only to become another prisoner. Just as you were before.”

Sadness pooled in your chest, but you met his words with a quiet acceptance.

“There’s not much to be done when it comes to the Gods,” you calmly say despite melancholy coloring each word. It was a fate you’d accepted the moment you’d struck that deal.

Odysseus’s silence was broken by a quiet, almost wistful chuckle. You turned to him to catch a glimmer in his eyes.

“If things had been different you would have made the perfect wife for my son Telemachus.” He looked at you fondly.

Caught off guard you felt your cheeks warm. His words were laced with a sincerity that was both touching and painful.

“Intelligence like yours...it shouldn’t be wasted on the whims and entertainments of Gods.” His tone softened into something almost paternal. “You would help Ithaca flourish as its Queen.”

You let out a dry almost self-mocking laugh. “Pity isn't it?” you replied, unable to hide the edge of bitterness in your voice.

Looking back toward the nearing shores of Ithaca, the cloud bracelet has now shifted to your finger. The opaque object slowly gaining its solid coloring with every passing wave.

“In the end I’ve found myself exactly where I didn’t want to be: just another pawn in the games of Gods and Kings.”  With a rueful smile you add, “Though...at least the King I served along the way was worth it.”

Leaning against the railing you let out a mock sigh of resignation. “But a promise is a promise isn’t it?”

You lift your hand, letting the light catch on the cloud ring as it hovered on the cusp of your fingers. “Where my feet touch the sands of Ithaca...”

Odysseus' gaze moves from the ring to your face causing him to perk up. “The sands you say...”

A knowing glint light his eyes as a thoughtful smile curved his lips.

.*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.*

Odysseus stepped into the grand hall. His gaze swept over the familiar stone walls, the polished floors, the long-forgotten scent of his own kingdom.

His heart pounded as he took in the sight before him: Penelope, standing tall yet trembling, her face softened by age but still achingly beautiful.

Beside her stood Telemachus—no longer the child he had left behind but a grown man with his father’s strength and his mother’s fierce gaze.

They stared at him as if willing themselves to believe that he was truly here.

“Odysseus...” Penelope’s voice finally broke the stillness, barely more than a whisper in fear the weight of his name in her mouth might make him vanish.

Odysseus crossed the floor. When he reached her he stopped, his roughened hands slowly reaching to cup her face.

“Penelope,” he murmured, voice thick with longing, “after all these years...”

Penelope reached up to cover his hands with her own. “You...you are here. Truly here.” Tears gathered in her eyes and she fluttered them back in fear that one blink might end the dream.

“I am,” Odysseus replied barely holding on. “By the grace of the Gods and the strength of our hope I’ve come back to you.”

As if a dam had broken she threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly as though the very fabric of the world depended on her hold.

“I kept your memory here,” she said into his shoulder. “I told Telemachus every story, every lesson you ever shared. I waited and I prayed.”

Odysseus held her tightly as he murmur in her hair. “And I lived each day for the thought of this moment my love.”

Behind her Telemachus took a hesitant step forward. His hands were clenched at his sides, his face filled with an emotion too complex to put into words.

Odysseus’s gaze shifted to his son. “Telemachus...” He released Penelope slowly, stepping toward the Prince. “Look at you.”

His breath caught as he took in Telemachus’ tall strong frame, the shadow of a beard on his face, the look of a man who had faced his own battles.

The King's eyes shone with pride as sorrow mingled in their depths.

“I'm sorry I wasn’t there to see it. To guide you. But it seems you’ve become a man on your own.” He placed a strong hand on Telemachus’ shoulder, squeezing gently. “And I could not be more proud.”

Telemachus met his father’s gaze with a clenched jaw in attempt to fight back tears. “It was my honor to learn from your shadow father.”

They embraced and for a moment the world shrank to the three of them—the cunning King of Ithaca, his devoted wife, and the son who had grown up in his absence.

The tearful reunion was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of several men carrying a large cloth-draped basket.

Penelope and Telemachus pull from the hug as the men carefully set the basket down the middle of the hall before leaving. They turn to Odysseus, their confusion plain.

Odysseus smiled. Yet there was something else in his expression—a hint of anticipation and a glint of mischief. 

Gently, he took Penelope’s hand and guided her closer to the basket, gesturing for Telemachus to follow.

 “This,” he began, “is the reason I am here. And though the introduction may seem unconventional, it was the only way. I had to be specific to avoid some...complications upon disembarkment.”

He turned to Telemachus, his expression one of pride and apology combined. “I am sorry I was not there to see you grow into the man you are now. But what I brought for you is something any should have...”

With that Odysseus placed his hand on the woven lid of the basket and lift.

You emerged slowly, rising from within the wicker container with a serene smile. The soft light of the torches cast a warm glow over you giving your appearance an almost otherworldly quality.

The son of Odysseus and Penelope was silent. His eyes widening as he took in your your face making his stunned expression quickly shift to awe.

He was speechless—utterly captivated. For him, it was as if no one else existed in the hall.

A blush crept over Telemachus’ cheeks as glanced between you and his father with astonishment still etched across his features.

Holding his gaze, you smiled, allowing a touch of playful confidence to warm your expression. “Hello husband.”

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Shadows and Paws

Chapter 1: Into the Wild

Pairing: 141 x reader, Eventual Poly 141 x reader

AU: Hybrid 141 x Hybrid reader

Warning: Mostly Angst with like a smidge of fluff

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy this hybrid AU, I’ve been dabbling into a lot of things

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist | Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The sanctuary was nothing like they’d expected.

Dense fog clung to the forest floor, muffling their footsteps and swallowing every sound. Towering trees stretched endlessly above them, their branches twisted together like ancient hands guarding the sanctuary’s secrets. The air was thick and damp, carrying scents of moss and earth, tinged with hints of wild animals and faint traces of something else—something that felt old, almost sacred. It was a place untouched by the outside world, a haven carved out of the wilderness, and every instinct in Price told him they were being watched.

Captain Price led the way through the misty forest, his senses heightened, the quiet hum of wolf instincts ever-present in his mind. His eyes scanned the shadows, alert for any sign of movement, every fiber of him tuned to the pulse of the forest. Behind him, Ghost moved like a wraith, his panther-like form blending seamlessly into the darkness, each step careful and deliberate, his presence almost an extension of the shadows themselves. Gaz circled above in falcon form, his sharp eyes piercing through the canopy, scanning the surrounding trees with precision, watching for anything out of the ordinary. Soap followed close to Price, his husky ears perked and alert, his energy barely contained, as if every sound was calling him to explore.

As a pack, they moved seamlessly, each member adapting to the environment, their hybrid senses complementing each other. The forest around them was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of birds and insects absent as though the sanctuary itself was holding its breath. Just as Price was about to signal for a halt, Gaz’s voice crackled softly through the comms, a low murmur that barely broke the stillness.

“Got movement, Cap. Northwest, closing fast. Looks like we’ve got company.”

Price’s ear twitched, picking up the faint rustling of leaves from the direction Gaz had indicated. He raised a hand, signaling the others to stop, his body tensing as he scanned the shadows ahead. His gaze sharpened, waiting for any sign of a threat, when a sudden flash of red fur caught his eye, there and gone again, darting through the underbrush with silent grace and a speed that suggested they weren’t alone.

“It’s a fox,” Price muttered under his breath, though he didn’t relax, his hand hovering near his weapon just in case.

Moments later, a figure emerged from the trees, moving with a fluid confidence that put the entire team on edge. It was a fox hybrid, their stature smaller than the 141 members but exuding an unmistakable presence. Their sharp, glinting eyes danced over each of them, assessing, appraising, lingering just a moment longer on Ghost before finally settling on Price.

“Well, well,” the fox drawled, their voice carrying a playful yet dangerous edge as they crossed their arms. “More rogues, I assume? You’re not exactly blending in.”

The fox’s sly smile and relaxed stance belied a readiness, a coiled energy that suggested they could vanish or attack in an instant if provoked. Price held their gaze steadily, refusing to let himself be rattled. “We’re just passing through,” he said, his voice steady, but every word measured.

The fox tilted their head, studying them intently with a glimmer of amusement in their eyes. “Nobody just passes through here,” they replied, one brow raised as they spoke. “But if you’re here to help, then maybe we can have a chat. Otherwise…” They trailed off, their fingers twitching ever so slightly, a subtle hint that they could disappear into the shadows in a heartbeat if they chose.

Price exchanged a glance with Soap, who was watching the fox intently, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I like ‘em already,” he whispered to Ghost, whose only response was a quiet, amused huff from under his mask.

The fox’s gaze flickered between them, clearly aware of the silent exchanges. “So, are you going to keep staring?” they teased, their voice laced with a challenge. “Or should I show you somewhere a bit safer than out here?”

“Lead the way,” Price replied, stepping forward, his voice a quiet command as he signaled to the others to follow.

The fox hybrid didn’t hesitate, moving deeper into the forest with a quick, confident stride, winding through paths that seemed invisible to anyone who hadn’t been born to this place. As they walked, the fog grew thicker, shrouding the trees in a ghostly mist that muted every sound and blurred the edges of the world around them. It was as if the sanctuary itself was wrapping them in secrecy, guarding its mysteries from prying eyes.

They came to an abrupt stop near a secluded glade where a small fire flickered, casting a warm, welcoming glow against the cold mist. The fox turned to them, their gaze unwavering as they gestured for them to sit around the fire. Soap dropped down with a grin, his tail wagging with an eagerness that made Price feel the faintest sense of relief at being out of the open, if only for a moment.

“I’ll make this quick,” the fox began, folding their arms across their chest as they met each team member’s gaze. “There’s a group of rogues here, causing chaos for hybrids and humans alike. They’re not subtle, and they’re dangerous. If you’re here to help with that, then I can give you intel—maybe even show you some safe paths.”

Price studied them carefully, his expression unreadable. “And what’s in it for you?”

The fox shrugged, a slight smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. “I don’t trust anyone to do a job properly unless I’m involved. Besides, you all look like you could use a bit of help.”

Soap chuckled, an amused spark in his eyes as he looked the fox over with admiration. “You’re not wrong about that.”

Ghost’s voice cut in, low and sharp as he fixed the fox with a piercing stare. “And how do we know we can trust you?”

The fox met Ghost’s gaze without flinching, their own expression softening slightly. “You don’t,” they replied simply. “But you can trust that I don’t want those rogues overrunning my home.” For the first time, Price caught a glimpse of something deeper beneath their confident demeanor—a hint of loyalty, a fierce protectiveness that resonated with him.

The fox shifted, stretching out with a lazy elegance as their red tail curled around them, a playful glint returning to their eyes as they looked each of them in turn. “Well, boys, do we have a deal?”

Price didn’t need to look back at his team to know their answer. He extended his hand, sealing the alliance with a firm nod, his gaze steady. “Looks like we’re in this together.”

---

End of Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Hope you all enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bound By Blood

Being on your period was already a pain as it is, but accidentally binding yourself to a demon with a menstrual pad was a real cherry on top.

demon!Daemon Targaryen x Reader x bf!Aemond Targaryen | 2k+| cw: fem!reader, modern au, menstruation and its symptoms (duh), bloody depictions, crack fic, dumbass shenanigans, internet translated high Valyrian, typos, etc.

A/N: after reading @happilyhertale's period fic and @lady-phasma's period fic, i remembered a tumblr post i saw a long time ago about how napkins have really pretty designs for no reason cuz ur gonna get blood all over it anyway. as tumblr posts do, it spiraled and someone likened the designs to like a pentagram then someone was like u could accidentally summon a demon, thus this. i really did try to find it but alas i could not

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @ceoofyearning

@targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @pendragora @sloanexx

If you've ever had a hard time with your period, please consider donating €5 to Nour's GoFundMe, as the people in Palestine do not have access to any sort of feminine hygiene products; help her and her family evacuate.

"Lovie?"

"Yeah?"

I put my phone on loud speaker and place it on the side of the sink, "did I tell you to buy macadamia chocolates?"

"... no. I'll get you some."

"And something salty," I sit on the toilet and open my pad packet. I peel the red wrapper off.

"Mmm... crisps?"

"Yeah, the pink one."

"Alright. Anything else, love?"

I change the napkin on my underwear before replying, "mmm... oh! Please read the packaging. I want pads with wings, Aemond, with wings."

"Right. Copy, copy. With wings."

I pull my shorts up and flush the toilet, "thank you, love."

"Mmm. Love you. Bye."

"Bye, love. I love you."

The call ends and I wrap my used napkin in the wrapper of my new pad, rolling it up, and throwing it out. I grab my phone and walk back to my bed.

I huff and get under the sheets, petting the black cat asleep on top of it. Vhagar wags her tail once and I grab my laptop, continuing my binge session.

I wince when I feel a dull pain in my uterus. I pause my show and lean into my pillow, riding out the discomfort.

I moan and begin to heave. My eye twitches at the stabbing sensation. I slowly get out of bed, annoyed by the gush of blood I feel when I move. I make my way to my kitchen and grip on the counter as I prepare a kettle for some tea.

"Stop hating me cause I'm not pregnant," I hiss at my uterus as the pain continues.

I push my weight onto the counter top as I reach for a mug and a tea bag. I huff and screw my eyes. Once the pain subsides enough, I grab my kettle and turn, putting it on the stove. Once the fire is lit, I turn back to grab my mug and place the tea bag in my mug.

Suddenly, the room is thick, the atmosphere is heavy, and there is an inexplicable feeling of dread in my stomach. I feel my body warm and the hairs at the back of my neck raise, and it was not because of my period.

"Iksis ziry iā rūs jaelā?" Is it a baby you want?

I gasp and snap back, pulling my mug to my chest. My eyes widen and my heart leaps into my throat as I behold a towering figure covered in blood. Its body is barely contained in the room; its long neck coils downward to peer at me and its wings are cramped together behind itself. It's as though all the blood in my body drains.

The dragon-like creature chuckles deeply, his golden eyes sparkle, "gaoman jorrāelagon se yknagon hen zūgagon," I do love the smell of fear. It reaches out and delicately scratches its talons on my neck, "but I would not frighten you to death before completing our pact, devoted."

My body is frozen cold in fear as he pulls away. Slowly, its body morphs into a man. The reptilian features and glistening scales where replaced by long, silver hair and plump, smirking lips, all still drenched in blood. His expression mischievous and expectant.

"Ask of me, and see the beauty in thine blood offering to Daemon, The Rogue Prince."

Through barely a breath, in the most strained of voices, I mutter, "w h a t ?"

A rich chuckle bubbles out of his curved lips, "oh, I do loathe the coy and simple-minded. If you wish to amuse me, flatter me. Do not play dumb."

I slowly try to maneuver away from him, "I-" I whisper under sharp breaths, "I don't know what you mean-"

In a rush of either confidence or lunacy, I sprint away from him and run back into the bedroom. I scream and halt in my spot when I collide with the same being's chest.

I feel blood stick to me as I recoil and drop to the floor at the impact. The creature looks down on me and lifts his chin, "what's that then?"

Daemon points to the floor, causing me to look and see nothing but the panels.

Just then, Vhagar awakes and begins to go feral. She hisses loudly at the man, and I scramble to my feet, trying to get to her and calm her down, fearing he blood bathed being would kill her.

Remarkably, it seems I should actually do the opposite as the demon is deterred by Vhagar. He steps back and lowers his gaze. He chuckles dryly as I jump on the bed, going behind Vhagar.

"What is this trickery?"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

He scoffs and I swear his eyes are set ablaze, "I am bound by my sigil, woman, and I smell the blood on it."

My face morphs into bewilderment, "I DID NOT MAKE A BLOOD SACRIFICE-"

"Where is your summoning circle then!" he demands.

Vhagar hisses at his tone, her fur prickling as Daemon steps forward. He stills and draws in a deep breath. I swear his eyes go red for a second.

He points again, this time at me, "your legs."

My eyes widen preternaturally.

"My blood altar is between your thighs."

Meanwhile, Aemond was on the bus when he received a call.

He picks it up, "hel-"

"THERE'S A-" he pulls his phone away from his ear, "-DEMON IN OUR HOME! AEMOND-"

Aemond knits his brows tightly in concern at the sound of sobbing. He pulls his groceries closer to his chest, "honey, what do me--"

"THERE'S A DEMON IN OUR- VHAGAR NO--"

Aemond's heart drops at the sound of the commotion from the other end of the call. He hears cat yowling and objects crashing. He stiffens and speaks as calmly as possible, "I'm coming home. I'm almost there. Can you hear me, I-" the call ends.

By the time he gets home, his defenses are up. The ruckus from the inside is audible from outside the apartment. He holds his groceries in one hand and opens the door, warily entering. He grabs the long purple umbrella by the rack and closes the door soundlessly. He stalks inside, clenching his jaw at the sudden silence.

He surveys the place and sees the mess, yet no soul was present. He places the groceries on the kitchen top and creeps into the bedroom.

The door was already open, but, still, there was no one.

He freezes when Vhagar hisses. He lifts his gaze upon the black, senior cat sat at the top of the closet, looking into space with her fur raised.

"Aemond?!"

Aemond lowers his gaze.

"NO, DON'T HURT HIM!" I scream from inside the closet.

Aemond grips the umbrella and looks around the room. Vhagar hisses again.

He looks at his cat then the closet door.

"AEMOND- NO-- I'M PULLING YOU IN-"

Without another word, I leap out of the closet and grab Aemond, yanking him inside. I immediately shut the doors and begin to hyperventilate.

"What's happening? What's going on?" he asks, clutching my cheeks.

I whine and grip his wrists in distress. I whisper, "Vhagar's keeping us safe."

Aemond's nostrils flare, "what's happening? What's wrong?"

I shake my head and shudder, "there's a demon--"

"You know I can hear you right?"

I squeal, making Aemond tense and tighten his grip on me. I hear Vhagar hiss from above the closet.

Without much thought, Aemond pushes the doors open and holds his umbrella like a weapon.

I scream and pull him back when I hear sinister laughtera, "AEMOND, NO!"

Aemond claims an offensive stance, ready to bat his umbrella at whomever was in front of him, and yet there was no one. My breath hitches as I anticipate Daemon to jump us both, but he doesn't.

With furrowed brows, the man looks over to me, "baby, there's no o-"

Aemond yelps as I rush out of the closet and drag him out of the bedroom with me. We make our way to the kitchen, and I immediately rummage through the groceries, grabbing the pack of pads.

"Honey, what was it exactly that you-" Aemond cuts himself off as he watches me run out of the room, heading to the bathroom.

Immediately, I pull my shorts down and replace my bloody pad. I stare at the menstrual blood on the white napkin, realizing only now that there was, in fact, a sigil of a three headed dragon on the surface.

"There is it."

I scream. I look up at the bloody Daemon staring back at me, smirking with crossed arms.

I hear Aemond run towards the bathroom door. He calls out my name in concern.

I rip my used napkin off my underwear and chuck it to the demon. I scream once more when he manifests beside me, avoiding my assault.

"Unsanitary," Daemon clicks his tongue.

Aemond bangs on the door, "what's going on? Do you need any help?"

I sidestep away from Daemon and hurriedly replace my pad.

Aemond calls out my name as he knocks.

Daemon turns to the door, lips curling in annoyance, "I will slay him if he enters."

My eyes widen. It was only then I realized there was a sword hanging upon his hip. I feel sick.

Aemonds sounds agitated, "I'm coming insi-"

"NO!" I rip my pants up and run to the door. I shove Aemond back the moment I can. I squeeze myself out of the small opening and I push him back until he finally repels me and grabs my arms. Aemond and I are in the kitchen by then.

He calls out my name and grabs my cheeks. His face is marked by worry.

I panic, "wait, where's Vhagar?"

"She's probably just-"

"DID HE KILL VHAGAR-"

"Look at me!"

I stare at him with wide, watery eyes. I whimper through a broken voice, "Vhagar was the only thing keeping me safe."

"From the demon?" Aemond asks carefully, swiping my tears with his thumbs.

"Please-" I choke out, "-believe me, I-"

"I believe you, darling," he strokes my hair. He pulls away and grabs the salt jar on the counter. He shows me the container before pouring some in his hand.

I raise my brows as he presents me the salt in his cupped palm.

Aemond speaks calmly, "if I see that fucker, I'll-"

"You'll what?"

Aemond shrieks and chucks the salt behind me. In the same terrified manner, I squeal and run behind Aemond.

The demon groans, "ao doru-borto qogralbar!" You stupid fuck!

Aemond pushes me behind him as he watches the blood covered man rub his eyes. He almost, out of instinct, chucked the whole jar at him, but he was glad he didn't. He pours a salt circle on the floor.

Aemond pulls me into his chest and begins to chant, "qrīdrughagon lēda ao!" Away with you!

Daemon looks up at us with a furious expression. His rage is quelled but when he sees the ground which we stood. His red eyes widen as he looks up at me, as if in disbelief of what he was seeing.

I tug on Aemond's shirt with agitation, "is this circle gonna keep us-"

"QRĪDRUGHAGON LĒDA AO!" Aemond shouts.

Daemon's eye twitches, "who is this imbecile you seek refuge in?"

"Don't answer it! Don't give him my name," Aemond says as he fishes something in his pocket.

"You act as though I know not your name is Aemond, imbecile."

"Aemond, I really think we-"

"Ignore him," says Aemond as he pulls out his phone.

Daemon chuckles darkly, "oh... how sweet you think such a thing is possible.

I cling tightly onto Aemond as he pulls out his phone. I whimper, "is now really the time?!"

"I'm calling Aegon," Aemond replies, placing his phone to his ear.

"What?!"

"He knows how to do an exorcism."

"?!?!?"

"You dare," Daemon yells, "think that I-"

"He was recruited in a cult once."

"-would be easily cast out by m-"

"QRĪDRUGHAGON LĒDA AO!"

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider donating €5 to Nour's GoFundMe so that she and her family can evacuate and experience the luxury of reading fics in the safety of their homes.

[weirdzano-and-co]

[rina7z]

помогите💀

[hxzbinwrites]

So excited for the new blog! Can you please do some headcanons of Vox and imp! Partner in a cute soulmates AU?? Out of all places for Vox to meet his soulmate at last, it’d be in hell of all places! And his imp partner is super adorable and sweet and kinda polar opposite from him. At first he’s in denial but over time he starts falling in love anyway <<333

Vox x Imp! Soulmate! Gn! Reader | Savior |

(I didn’t know what gender you wanted (Y/n) to be, so I just went ahead and put gn! I hope that’s okay!)

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Violence, Classism, Imp racism

Vox sat down at his “desk” of sorts. Glancing at his various monitors over the lip of his coffee mug. His bored expression evident on his face. Voxtech was doing great, a little too great. Nothing needed fixed, reprogrammed, or anything. Not even that little radio demon was active in his business today. Just plain nothing.

Val was busy doing whatever freakish things he does and Velette was prepping for her next fashion show next week, so there’s nothing he can do with them. He’s burnt practically every bridge with all of the other Overlords, so it’s not like he can go prancing up to them asking for a play date, all he can do is just sit here, in boredom, and watch screens flicker by. Watching all of these other sinners revel in his technology, unknowingly being watch by a extremely bored Vox.

He sighed, setting down his coffee mug as he stood up to stretch, placing a hand on his lower back before someone, or something, jerked his hand in another direction.

His screen glitched in aggravation, who the hell dare tug him. He isn’t a rag doll, he’s an Overlord. He’s THE VEE, He’s VOX.

With his electronic brows furrowed, he whips his head around to see no one in sight, before looking down at a bright red string coiled around his wrist, tugging him towards his elevator.

His eyes widen in shock, a soulmate string?? He didn’t have a soulmate. Not when he was alive, not when he fell into Hell, not…until now apparently.

‘I have nothing better to do I suppose’ He thought, walking towards his elevator.

————

Wondering around the Pride Ring was something most Imps didn’t do. The Pride Ring was for sinners, not for Imps. Well, (Y/n) certainly didn’t care. They walked about, with their head high and their tail swishing behind them. Well, until they got jerked in the other direction.

“The hell?” They muttered, looking at the string coiled around their wrist. This can’t be, (Y/n) didn’t have a soulmate. Haven’t had one ever, and probably wasn’t supposed to. Chalked it up to bad luck.

‘Good thing I listened to my gut to come to the Pride Ring. Alright soulmate, I hope you’re worth the trouble….and a piece of eye candy.’

They marched ahead, ignoring glances from sinners as they walked towards some of the more taller buildings.

Looking up, they saw in the far distance a huge tower, adorned with three V’s, all with their respective colors. Their heart fluttered, indicating that was where their soulmate resided. The string pulled once more in that direction before (Y/n) began to walk once more, following it.

They walked what seemed like forever, about halfway from the point they saw the tower to the tower, before something pulled on the opposite wrist.

“You little Imp.” A man said,”What do you think you’re doing up here? You don’t belong with sinner-kind, go back down there to the Wrath Ring where you belong, rodent.”

(Y/n) was shoved against the wall, face pressed against the cold brick of an alleyway. Their heart was racing, what if they died before they could ever meet their soulmate?!

They looked down, seeing their string begin to flash between red and white, alerting their soulmate that (Y/n) was in danger.

‘Please’ They thought,’Please help me my soulmate.’

————

Vox was strolling along the streets of Hell, briskly walking towards whenever the string may take him. People fled the scene from where he walked, too scared to come face to face with an Overlord.

Still, no sign of his soulmate. Irritated that they weren’t close, he sighed, rolling his eyes before he felt a pull, not a tug. He almost fell to the ground, stumbling before regaining his balance. Glitching in annoyance, he looked at his string, flashing in colors. Signaling something.

He had a gut feeling, something in his very core alerting him as well as the string. Wrong. Something is terribly, awfully wrong.

He broke out into a full sprint, shoving anyone out of the way who didn’t move fast enough for his urgent pace. He stopped near an alleyway, seeing a sinner press a poor imp against the wall. The imp was quivering in fear, until they locked eyes with Vox. The string disappeared, and he felt…whole. Completed. He didn’t even realize he was missing a piece of himself until he found it. But an…imp? He’s with an imp. Him, and overlord, with a hellspawn? It can’t be possible. It shouldn’t be possible.

While internally he was having these thoughts, he acted on pure instinct and without even thinking he took the sinner’s head and smashed it into the brick wall, with a force so hard he created an indent in the brick itself and the sinner’s body fell to the ground.

Without exchanging a word, he lifted the smaller Imp into his arms, found the nearest Voxtech device and teleported through it, bringing him and his newfound soulmate back to his office.

“Who are you? Are you supposed to be my soulmate?” He sneered in disbelief, but stopped speaking whenever the Imp dove in to hug him. His heart rate sped up and his screen started glitching.

“Yeah…” They said,”thank you for saving me. I…I didn’t think I had a soulmate. What’s your name, sir?”

“Vox” He replied,” and yours?”

“(Y/n). I don’t know how you sinners live up here in the Pride Ring, it’s very scary.” They nervously chuckled,”I guess the soulmate string can’t find the other if you’re stuck in different rings.”

“Yeah” He said,”that makes a lot of sense. I want to ask you something, (Y/n). Why did that sinner attack you?”

“Ah, well he said it was because I’m an imp and that I need to return back to the Wrath Ring where I belong….” They said, looking at the floor.

Vox’s clawed fingers gently lifted their chin, locking eyes with the imp. His face seething with anger. His screen was glitching. Looking at his poor soulmate, with tears glistening in their eyes. Oh, these sinner’s who think like that are gonna PAY. He thought back on his earlier thoughts a few moments ago. Who really cares if they’re an imp. This imp is as sweet as can be, perfection incarnate if you will. But this…shoving them into the wall purely based on the fact that they’re an imp. This has to stop. He’s seen the light, his other half. He knows what must be home. His face starts glitching in anger, seething in the rage that someone hurt his precious love.

“If you’ll excuse me, my love, I n-n-need to make a f-few broadcastsss.” Vox said, his glitching making his voice stutter.

He snapped his fingers, making one of his various workers bring a comfy chair over for (Y/n) while he went to go sit at his desk.

He was no longer bored today, no, he had a mission. A mission to protect his precious soulmate at all costs.

————

Word Count: 1159

[coil-tower-roblox]

honk shuuu honk mimimi

darn i want to live here.

[rainforestakiie]

@inubaki i really hope you like this! i worked so hard on it for you! i'm not sure if it's good, but i tried something new with our adorable adam.

i'm not sure what to call this AU? maybe the love of hell?

the wonderful inubaki requested an AU where lucifer and lilith are trying to save the hellborn. they brought a booklet of Hellborns for everyone to look at, and adam is the only one interested.

i hope you don't mind me getting creative with this one too!

i tried something new. i hope it worked!

please enjoy!

The corridors of Heaven stretched before them like endless, glowing veins, each pulse of light casting intricate shadows against the walls. The air shimmered, thick with the weight of eternity, and yet Adam felt it heavy in his chest. His fingers fidgeted with the coarse fabric of his tunic, tugging at the loose threads of his oversized work gloves, the same ones he had worn since... well, since as long as he could remember. They felt more cumbersome than usual, each pull of the fabric a distraction from the churning storm inside him.

Beside him, Sera walked with a quiet grace, her wings folded tightly against her back, the golden feathers barely brushing the ground as she moved. Every so often, her gaze would flick to him, concern softening the usual brightness in her eyes.

“Adam,” she whispered, her voice like the soft hum of the wind through a garden of starlight. “I know you're nervous, anxious even. I can feel it. But there is no need to fear. I swear, neither Michael nor I will let anything happen to you.”

Adam's lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes avoiding hers as they focused on the ever-stretching horizon ahead. His heart raced, not from her words, but from the truth he couldn’t voice. He swallowed thickly, trying to untangle the knot in his throat.

“I know you’ll protect me,” he said, his voice strained, barely above a murmur. His hands trembled slightly, and his stomach twisted and coiled, like a serpent tightening around his spine.

“But it doesn’t stop… this.” He made a vague gesture to his chest. “I don’t understand why they want me here, why I need to be here.”

Sera sighed softly, a touch of weariness in the sound. “I don’t know either. I tried, Adam. I tried to make them understand that you have no part in the… relations between Heaven and Hell. But Hell was relentless. They demanded your presence repeatedly.”

Adam’s brow furrowed as he halted for a moment, his gaze dropping to the pristine floor beneath his feet. His troubled expression deepened, shadows darkening his usually gentle face.

“But they already have Eve.” His voice wavered, the words pulling at the fraying edges of his composure. “Surely one of us would be enough. Why me too?”

The silence between them thickened like a fog, the echo of his question lingering in the air. Sera paused, her wings ruffling slightly before she placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch warm, reassuring. Her fingers pressed gently; a promise unspoken.

“This meeting will be quick,” she murmured, her voice a balm against the storm raging within him. “I will make sure it doesn’t drag on longer than necessary.”

Adam nodded, though the motion felt sluggish, weighted. He could feel the inevitability of the situation, feel the invisible chains tightening around him, dragging him forward. There was no escape from this, no turning back. With a resigned sigh, he let go of his resistance, his heart still uneasy, but his feet moving forward once again.

Heaven’s light seemed less bright, more distant. And as the doorway to the meeting chamber loomed ahead, Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever waited inside was far darker than anything he had faced before.

As Adam and Sera drew closer to the grand doors that separated light from darkness, his heart pounded with the weight of it all. The towering gates of polished crystal shimmered with a strange, ethereal glow, but to Adam, they seemed more like the bars of a cage. Beyond those doors lay the meeting place—the heart of the divide between Heaven and Hell, purity and sin, light and shadow.

His pulse quickened, each thud in his chest heavy and unrelenting, a silent question echoing in his mind: Why me?

He couldn't understand it. He doubted he ever would.

From the moment he and Eve had arrived in Heaven, life had been a maelstrom—a constant storm of confusion and chaos. Heaven, a place he had thought would be peaceful, had become a battleground of decisions and endless debates. Hardly any souls had reached Heaven anymore, and the reason was as twisted as it was tragic.

The Apple of Knowledge, the birth of Sin itself, had poisoned humanity so deeply that most souls were lost to the darkness. Hell was teeming with sinners, overwhelming its gates, and Heaven’s high angels had called for a desperate council. Both he and Eve were summoned.

Adam remembered how Eve had seethed with fury, her bitterness a powerful force. She carried resentment like a shroud, heavy and thick, her anger not just toward Lucifer and Lilith, but toward all those who had followed them into the abyss. Despite the distance that had grown between them, Adam and Eve had transformed their bond into something more like siblings—two souls forever tethered to one another. In a Heaven that felt more foreign than familiar, they only had each other to hold onto.

Eve was his best friend, and Adam was Eve’s best friend.

Adam had long since forgiven Eve. Her mistakes had once felt like a fracture between them, but now they were scars, healed but not forgotten. Eve had spent every moment since trying to make things right, as if each action was an attempt to cleanse herself of past regrets. Adam had witnessed it firsthand, and when the Archangels—Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, and Sera—had called them to God’s crystalline throne room, it was Eve who had stepped forward. Her voice had been steady yet laced with the weight of her guilt.

“I will take responsibility for this,” she had declared, her gaze unwavering. “Just me. You only need one of us, right? So, I will take responsibility, not Adam.”

Adam had tried to intervene, to remind her that this was their shared burden. They were both part of the same story, both victims of the same fall. But Eve had refused, shaking her head with a sadness that cut deeper than her words.

“This is on me, Adam. I trusted Lucifer. I trusted Lilith. If I hadn’t… our children might have made it here.” She said softly, holding his hand tightly. “It was my fault we were kicked out of Eden. You’ve spent years afterward breaking your back for me and our children. You’ve taken care of me, made sure I can eat and sleep well.”

She looked him in the eye, her amber-gaze teary. “Please, let me take care of you this time.”

From that day, Eve had dedicated herself to a grim task. She trained with the other angels, sharpening her resolve, and spent endless hours sorting through human souls—deciding who was worthy of Heaven and who would be cast into Hell. She became the sword of judgment, her once gentle hands now hardened by the weight of her duty. Adam had tried to be there for her, but Eve kept him at a distance, sharing only fragments of her pain.

The time they spent together will be happy, she had decided.

Heaven had given Adam a different role. While Eve had the likes of Archangel Michael and Sera, God had created a new guardian for him, another Seraphim named Emily. Together, they took on responsibilities far removed from the harsh dealings between Heaven and Hell. Their tasks revolved around the Winners—those rare souls who had ascended—and the Heavenborns, along with the animals that roamed the clouds. While Eve battled the darkness, Adam’s life was filled with nurturing, guiding, and trying to find peace in his new purpose.

But the guilt gnawed at him, relentless. Every time he saw Eve return from another long day, her face drawn; her wings heavy with fatigue, it twisted inside him. She would always smile when she saw him, always pretended she wasn’t tired, wasn’t angry, wasn’t breaking apart beneath the weight of it all. But Adam could see it. He could feel it. She was drowning in a sea of fury and regret, and there was little he could do to help her.

Recently, Eve had been the one attending the delicate meetings between Heaven and Hell, where the fate of the Sinners was debated. Adam knew little of what happened there.

Emily had done her best to keep him distracted, filling his days with tending to the new arrivals in Heaven or caring for the creatures that frolicked through the clouds. It was a quiet life, but a distant one, far removed from the storm that brewed beneath Heaven’s perfect facade.

Now, as the doors to the meeting chamber loomed before him, Adam felt his stomach tighten. This time, he couldn’t escape. This time, Hell had called for him by name. He didn’t know why, didn’t understand what they wanted from him.

Eve had always been the one to handle these matters.

Besides, Adam had never been close to Lilith or Lucifer. Especially after Lilith had left him for Lucifer. Adam had never been favoured by either of them. He once thought he was close to both of them, he once thought Lucifer and Lilith loved him like he loved them. But that wasn't the case when they left him all alone...

When Eve came along, they both only wanted her…they had never asked for him, until now and to be perfectly honest, Adam had been all to happy to never see either of them again.

Why should they need me? His thoughts spun, a whirlwind of confusion and fear, the answers always out of reach. I don’t know a single thing about the Sinners.

Beside him, Sera’s gaze softened as her hand brushed his shoulder, a brief, fleeting touch to pull him from the storm of his thoughts and ground him in the present moment.

“You’re not alone, Adam,” she whispered, her voice warm like sunlight breaking through mist. “But we must face this.”

Adam swallowed, his throat tight, and looked up at her, his stomach twisting like a serpent coiling in on itself.

“Where… where’s Eve?” His voice trembled, barely more than a breath. “I-I thought she… I thought she’d be waiting for me.”

“She’s here,” Sera replied gently, the hint of a smile touching her lips, though there was a flicker of concern in her eyes.

Adam let out a shaky sigh of relief. For a moment, it felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest—Eve, his constant, his anchor, was there.

But then, Sera’s tone shifted, becoming cautious.

“Eve is already inside with Michael.” Her voice lowered, almost conspiratorial. “However, she is being a little… explosive.”

Adam blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. Explosive?

Eve had always been passionate, fiery even, but that word felt… ominous. His gaze wandered back to the towering doors in front of them, and he shivered. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now, as his ears strained, he swore he heard a low, distant thump from within the room. It was faint but powerful, like the heartbeat of something vast and angry.

“Let’s just say…” Sera continued, her words soft and measured, “Eve is not very pleased that they are dragging you into this mess.”

“O-Oh…”

Adam’s hand instinctively reached for his tunic, his fingers picking at the seams nervously. The fabric seemed to grow heavier with each passing second. He wished Emily was there—her presence always had a way of calming him, of making the world seem a little less daunting. But despite her protests, both Michael and Sera had insisted that Emily remain behind.

His heart sank at the thought, and he shifted uneasily. It felt wrong, being here without her, without the one who had become his silent guardian. The room beyond those doors seemed to pulse with tension, a gathering storm of anger, judgment, and something more—something darker, and much more dangerous. And though he knew Eve was waiting inside, her protective rage directed at whatever forces had pulled him into this ordeal, Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that once they stepped through those doors, everything would change.

For better or worse, he didn’t know. But change was coming, and it was coming for him.

And with that, the grand doors began to part, revealing the shadowy divide between Heaven’s light and Hell’s darkness. Adam steeled himself for whatever awaited him on the other side, but deep down, he knew—nothing could have prepared him for the truth he was about to uncover.

Adam’s entire body trembled as the enormous, towering doors began to creak open, the sound reverberating through the vast, shadowy corridor like the growl of some ancient beast. His golden wings quivered, feathers rustling with a desperate, primal urge to flee—to turn around and escape before it was too late. It had been centuries since he had last seen either Lilith or Lucifer, and the mere thought of facing them again set his insides churning. He didn't want to see them. He didn't want to be here.

Sera stepped in front of him, shielding him as the gap between the doors widened, revealing the meeting place. Adam’s knees buckled slightly, his heart pounding so loud in his ears he could barely hear the world around him. His eyes narrowed as he squinted into the dimly lit expanse of the room. It was massive, rivaling the size of God’s throne room—the same room where the Archangels had summoned him and Eve all those years ago.

The room was a masterpiece of contrasts, split perfectly down the middle. One side radiated with an ethereal glow, its soft pillows of pure light glowing in shades of white and serene blue. The other half, however, was cloaked in darkness, its pillars of obsidian towering against the walls like sentinels, the space draped in shadows and rich, blood-red hues. Light and dark, Heaven and Hell, brought together in a strange, unsettling harmony.

In the center of the room was a long, crystalline table that seemed to shimmer in the strange half-light. The table itself was split just like the room, with one half composed of towering blue crystal, its surface adorned with halos that floated gently above the chairs. The other half was carved from red and black crystal, its seats crowned with devil horns that twisted ominously toward the ceiling.

Adam swallowed thickly; his throat dry as his skin prickled with the overwhelming sensation of multiple eyes upon him. He couldn’t bear to look up, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the floor as he followed Sera into the room. At first, the air was thick with the sounds of angry voices—aggressive arguing, insults flying back and forth between the factions, the echoes of bitter sneers and mocking scoffs bouncing off the walls. But the moment Adam crossed the threshold, the bickering ceased. A thick, unnerving silence blanketed the room, and Adam’s wings shifted uncomfortably, struggling to stay still.

He felt exposed. Vulnerable. And all he wanted to do was hide.

Instinctively, he stepped closer to Sera, seeking some form of protection, no matter how futile it felt. Michael’s gaze swept over them, his expression unreadable as he nodded to Sera, who returned the gesture with a troubled glance, her eyes lingering on the shattered crystal in the centre of the table. Something had already gone wrong.

"A-Adam."

The voice was soft, almost gentle, but it made Adam’s entire body seize with a sharp tremor. He forced himself to glance up, only barely lifting his eyes toward the speaker. There, across the room, sat Lucifer.

The fallen Archangel was nearly unrecognizable. Gone were the divine robes of white, blue, and gold that Adam remembered so vividly from their time together in Eden. Instead, Lucifer now donned something far more twisted, more theatrical. A red-and-white striped vest clung to his form, paired with a white jacket and matching pants tucked into sleek black boots. His once glorious golden hair now shimmered beneath a bizarre top hat, a snake coiled around it like a crown, a ruby-red apple resting in the serpent’s grip, and a faintly glimmering golden crown threaded through the coils.

Adam couldn’t stop staring, even though he wanted to. Lucifer was so different, so alien compared to the being he had once known. His face was no longer the smooth, angelic visage of before; his cheeks were now stained a deep, unnatural blood-red, and his eyes—those eyes that had once been a striking, sapphire blue—were now a disturbing blend of molten gold and ruby, like the embers of a dying fire.

What unsettled Adam the most, though, was when Lucifer stood, revealing long, black claws where his hands should have been.

“Adam—”

“Shut up!” Eve’s voice cut through the air, sharp and cold as steel. The words echoed across the room like the crack of a whip. “Don’t even look at him!”

Lucifer’s expression twisted into a dark sneer, his eyes narrowing as he shot Eve a look so venomous that Adam recoiled. Was this truly the Archangel he had once admired? The being who had sung with the Heavens in glory? He felt bewildered, disoriented. And yet, despite the chaos of emotions raging inside him, Adam found himself easing just a little at the sight of Eve.

She was seated across from Lucifer, on the side of light, where Heaven’s shimmering blue throne towered next to Michael. Eve sat beside the Archangel, her face a mask of cold fury. Her arms were crossed tightly, fingers tapping aggressively against the armrests of her seat. Her red hair, now pulled back into a severe ponytail, gleamed like fire beneath the soft light, and she wore something Adam had never seen before—a uniform, battle-worn yet sharp, and utterly unlike her usual appearance.

The silver armor clung to her form, a strange fusion of elegance and brutality. A thigh-length dress of shining metal, black tights beneath, with long, silver gloves that reached her upper arms. Her boots rose high above her thighs, matching the cuirass that protected her chest, the plackart at her waist. Every piece of her armor—spauldron, vambrace, gorget—was perfectly placed, ready for war.

Adam paused, his feet faltering as his gaze fell on the helmet resting on the table beside her. It was monstrous, with twisting horns that spiraled out on either side, a grotesque contrast to the purity of Heaven’s light.

Does she… wear that?

The thought chilled him. Eve had changed so much since they’d first arrived. The woman in front of him looked nothing like the gentle soul who had once wandered the Garden of Eden at his side.

The air was thick with tension, and Adam felt utterly out of place, an intruder in this grand hall of angels and devils. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to turn and flee, but he couldn’t shake the sense that something far greater than him was unfolding—and he was caught in the middle of it.

“Come now, Eve,” a voice interjected, its tone airy yet laced with an edge of smugness. It carried the chill of winter’s breath, sharp and penetrating. “We’re all friends here.”

“Friends?” Eve’s voice dripped with contempt as she turned her furious gaze toward the speaker. “Is that what you call the people you backstab?”

Adam blinked, feeling a strange mixture of awkwardness and curiosity as he slowly approached Eve, careful to keep his distance from the imposing figures in the room. He tilted his head slightly, trying to focus on Lilith, whose presence seemed more familiar and grounded compared to Lucifer's nightmarish transformation.

Lilith sat on the side of darkness, but she retained a striking, almost ethereal beauty. Her long golden hair cascaded down her back like a flowing waterfall of sunlight, pushed back elegantly from her face, with curls framing her delicate features. Her face, pointed and regal, was accentuated by long, thick eyelashes that Adam remembered from days long past.

A black rose crown adorned her head, its dark petals contrasting sharply with the blood-red horns that emerged from beneath it. Her figure was both delicate and imposing—a small waist paired with a substantial chest, draped in a deep purple and black dress that shimmered with an otherworldly magic. Around her neck, a strand of pure white pearls gleamed softly, catching the light as if it were a fragment of Heaven itself.

Adam found himself frowning slightly as he took in Lilith’s appearance. She was undeniably beautiful, but there was a coldness in her gaze that mirrored the icy sharpness of her voice. Despite her outward grace, there was a stark, unyielding edge to her presence that set Adam on edge.

“Isn’t it charming,” Lilith continued, her voice dripping with false warmth, “How old friends can come together under such… delightful circumstances?”

Adam’s stomach churned. The air in the room seemed to thicken with each passing second, a palpable tension that pressed against him from all sides. He glanced back at Eve, whose anger was barely contained, and then at Lucifer, whose gaze was fixed on him.

He tried to swallow the rising lump in his throat as he took another hesitant step toward Eve. The room felt like a stage, each figure poised in their roles for some grand, unspoken performance, and Adam was caught during it, struggling to understand his place.

Eve's eyes met Adam’s, her fury momentarily softening as she recognized his troubled gaze. For a moment, her expression seemed to convey a silent apology—an acknowledgment of the chaos that had ensnared him in this grim theatre of light and darkness. But the anger was still there, simmering just below the surface, ready to boil over at any moment.

Adam took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He wished desperately for Emily’s comforting presence, but all he had now were his own frazzled thoughts and the looming, unforgiving gaze of those who held the power to determine his fate. He had to face whatever this meeting demanded of him, and he could only hope that the strength he found in his past with Eve would help him navigate the treacherous waters of this new confrontation.

Lilith’s eyes sparkled with malicious amusement as she continued to needle Eve, her voice a cold, serpentine whisper.

“Eve,” she said, her tone dripping with feigned sympathy, “It’s so touching to see you trying so hard. But let’s be honest, you’re nothing more than a replacement. You could never truly fill the shoes of someone as... exceptional as I once was.”

 “Replacement?” she snapped, her voice echoing like a thunderclap. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? You’re nothing but the defective prototype. A product used to test and validate design concepts, functionality, and usability. Prototyping helps identify potential issues and make improvements before committing to full-scale production or implementation. This approach is common in fields like engineering, product design, software development, and more.”

“You are nothing but a bootleg version of a real woman. You could never compare to what I’ve become.” Eve added smugly.

Lilith’s lips curved into a cruel smile, her eyes glinting with amusement as if she were watching a child’s tantrum.

“Oh, Eve,” she said mockingly, “How quaint. Your anger is almost endearing. But really, you were never meant to replace me. You’re merely a poor imitation, struggling to keep up with a legacy you can never truly grasp.”

Eve’s face was flushed with rage, her body trembling with the effort to contain her fury. “You think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you? I’ve seen your so-called ‘legacy,’ Lilith. You’re nothing but a pretentious farce, a pale shadow of what true strength and integrity look like. Your power is nothing compared to the strength I’ve earned.”

Lilith’s smile widened, her amusement growing as Eve’s anger boiled over.

“You’re so precious when you’re angry,” she cooed, her voice dripping with condescension. “But don’t you understand? You’ll never truly be anything more than a mere stand-in. I was the original, the genuine article. You’re just a cheap imitation, trying too hard to fill a role you were never meant for.”

Eve’s rage reached a fever pitch, her fists clenching at her sides. “You know what, Lilith? You’re just a failed experiment. You were cast aside for a reason. No amount of posturing can change that.”

Adam winced as he watched the exchange, the hostility between the two women escalating with each cutting remark. He could see the toll it was taking on Eve, her anger spiralling out of control, while Lilith seemed to find the entire situation nothing more than a game.

Then, with a swift, venomous glance, Eve delivered a final, cutting comment. “You’re nasty inside and outside. You were never pure enough for Adam. Look at what happened when an Archangel gave you the time of day, you stained him. I can’t imagine what you would have done to Adam.”

“It’s a good thing your poisonous venom didn’t touch Adam. You don’t deserve his love or friendship. You never did.”

The room fell silent, the words hanging heavy in the air. Lilith’s eyes flashed with a pained, hurt expression, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability beneath her icy exterior. It was clear that Eve had struck a nerve.

Adam’s heart pounded as he saw the reaction. He wanted to intervene, to stop the confrontation before it spiralled further, but his voice came out as a barely audible whisper.

“Eve, please… stop.”

Unfortunately, his soft plea did not go unnoticed. Both Lucifer and Lilith’s eyes turned to Adam, their expressions shifting to one of twisted delight. Lucifer’s lips curled into a smirk, while Lilith’s gaze hardened with a mix of surprise and contempt. She seemed even pleased that Adam had stuck up for her.

Eve’s eyes narrowed at Adam’s intervention; her anger now directed at him. She glared at Lilith still fiercely, her grip tightening around his wrist. Without waiting for a response, she tugged him toward the large, ornate chair next to her, forcing him to sit down beside her.

Adam’s heart raced as he sat next to Eve, feeling the weight of Lilith’s and Lucifer’s gaze upon him. He could sense the shift in the room’s dynamics, the undercurrents of tension and hostility that seemed to press in from all sides.

Eve’s grip on his wrist was unyielding, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. Adam tried to catch her eye, hoping to convey a silent plea for calm, but her focus was locked on Lilith and Lucifer, her rage barely contained.

The room was charged with an electric tension, the air thick with the remnants of the argument. Adam knew that whatever came next would be pivotal, and he could only hope that the storm of emotions would pass quickly, leaving them with some semblance of peace—or at least, a path forward.

Michael cleared his throat with an almost comical sense of formality, his wings fluttering with confusion and agitation. His brows furrowed as he glanced between Eve, who was still seething, and Lilith, who appeared to be reveling in the discord. The celestial presence seemed out of place amid the chaos, like a child witnessing a tempest.

Lucifer, ever observant, caught Michael’s disoriented demeanor with evident glee.

“Oh, Michael,” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “Still the same old doll, aren’t you? Always caught in a whirlwind of emotions you barely understand.”

Michael’s face flushed with irritation at the insinuation, but he remained silent, his wings flickering in agitation. The jibe from Lucifer had struck a nerve, and his irritation was palpable.

Sera, sensing the tension threatening to boil over into another confrontation, stepped in with a measured tone.

“Enough of this bickering,” she interjected firmly. “We’re here to address the matter at hand. We have conceded to the demands and brought Adam into this meeting.”

Lucifer and Lilith’s attention shifted sharply to Adam, their gazes piercing through him like a spotlight.

Unable to contain his frustration, Adam made a sassy comment. “I still don’t see why I’m needed here. Hell, and the Sinners have never been my responsibility.”

Lucifer and Lilith exchanged a look, their eyes communicating silently in a way that left everyone else feeling excluded. The moment of telepathic conversation was both irritating and intriguing to those who observed it.

Lucifer turned his attention back to Michael and Sera, his tone laced with a sense of bemused superiority. “Is Adam even aware of what you’ve decided to do?”

Michael frowned; his confusion evident. “Like Adam has mentioned, he doesn’t have any duties with Hell.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed as he scoffed. “Of course, neither of you told him. You knew he would oppose it, so why not keep him in the dark?”

Sera, her anxiety becoming more pronounced, intervened again. “That’s enough, Lucifer. What exactly do you want, and why is it so important for Adam to be here?”

Eve, unable to hold back her bitterness, interjected sharply. “It’s no a secret that you both abandoned Adam in Eden, leaving him alone, breaking your promises. Now, you want to drag him into your little game?”

Lilith’s eyes flashed with anger as she glared at Eve. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Eve. It would do you well to keep your mouth shut.”

Eve’s laugh was bitter, a sharp, mocking sound that cut through the tension. “Oh, the truth hurts, doesn’t it? But don’t worry, while you both left, Adam was made a better companion than either of you ever were.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, his disdain apparent. “More of a step down, actually.”

Eve’s growl was low and dangerous. Before she could rise from her seat to confront Lucifer, Adam’s hand shot out, grasping her wrist firmly. The gesture was both a plea for calm and an attempt to diffuse the situation.

Lucifer and Lilith’s expressions shifted to one of surprise and displeasure at Adam’s intervention. Eve, however, grinned with a mixture of satisfaction and delight, her anger momentarily forgotten in the face of this new development.

Adam drew a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of past betrayals and heartbreak pressing down on him as he finally turned his gaze toward Lucifer and Lilith. The pain of old wounds resurfaced, bringing with it a rush of memories that he had buried deep within.

In the beginning, there had been just the two of them: Adam and Lucifer. Lucifer had been more than an Archangel to Adam; he had been a guardian, a friend, a constant presence in his life. Their bond had been unbreakable, a companionship so profound that Adam had felt invincible in its embrace. They had shared countless moments, their bond seemingly unshakeable, until Lilith had been introduced to the Garden.

Adam remembered the day Lilith had come into their lives. It had been a confusing but exhilarating change—he now had two friends, two beings who cared for him. They had all been so close, a trio united in the innocence of their existence. Adam, though he lacked understanding of complex concepts like husband and wife or breeding, was simply overjoyed to be in their company. He felt complete, surrounded by the warmth and companionship of his two dearest friends.

But then, one fateful morning, Adam had awakened to an unbearable silence. Lucifer and Lilith were gone. The emptiness that enveloped him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He had spent countless days and sleepless nights searching for them, his heart aching with a pain he had no words for. They had vanished without a trace, leaving him alone in the Garden, grappling with an anguish that seemed to rend his very soul.

The arrival of Sera from Heaven had marked the beginning of a tumultuous period. Heaven had learned the truth of Lucifer and Lilith's departure—how they had left Eden to be together, abandoning Adam without a word. The revelation had thrown everything into chaos. Adam had been bewildered, struggling to understand why his friends had betrayed him so profoundly.

When Lucifer and Lilith had returned to Eden, their attempts to reconcile only deepened the wound. Adam, unable to bear the sight of them, had fled time and again, overwhelmed by the pain of their betrayal. The Angels, witnessing the turmoil, had intervened, and Lucifer and Lilith were ultimately banished from the Garden. In their absence, Eve was created as Adam’s new companion.

But even then, peace had been elusive. Lucifer and Lilith, defiant and unrepentant, had sneaked back into the Garden, this time targeting Eve. They had tricked her into eating the forbidden apple, setting off a chain of events that would forever alter the course of history. The betrayal had been complete, their actions leaving a scar that Adam would carry with him forever.

Swallowing thickly, Adam’s golden gaze fixed upon the crystalline table, its multifaceted surface reflecting fragments of his troubled thoughts. His heart pounded so fiercely that it seemed to reverberate through his skull, a relentless drumbeat of anxiety and confusion. Slowly, he gathered the courage to look up at his old friends once more.

“What…what do you want?” Adam’s voice trembled, the words escaping his lips with a mixture of fear and frustration. “Why did you ask to see me?”

Lilith’s gaze softened for the first time since Adam had entered the grand hall. Her eyes, once sharp and mocking, now held a glimmer of something akin to regret. It was as if she were struggling to reconcile the figure before her with the person she once knew. She took a tentative step forward, her expression laden with a hint of vulnerability.

“Adam,” she began, her voice carrying a note of earnestness that seemed foreign coming from her. “We’ve honestly been requesting your presence from the very first meeting.”

Adam blinked, taken aback by her admission. “What? Why? I-I don’t know what you expect me to do…but I’m telling you now; I can’t help with anything.”

Lilith’s eyes softened as she stepped forward, her gaze filled with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place in the grand hall. Her voice, usually sharp and commanding, took on a gentler tone. “Adam, it’s not about what you can or cannot do. It’s about addressing what was left unresolved between us. There are things we need to settle, and it goes beyond mere duties.”

Lucifer, leaning back in his throne with a more approachable air than before, looked at Adam with a soft, almost paternal smile. “You see, Adam, it’s not just about asking for your help. It’s about closure and reconciliation, and perhaps a bit of… introspection. We’ve been carrying this weight for too long, and it’s something we want to resolve with you.”

Adam’s confusion deepened, mingling with a growing sense of anger. “Closure? Reconciliation?”

Lilith’s expression grew earnest, her eyes reflecting a mixture of remorse and hope. “We made mistakes, Adam. Terrible ones. But we’ve come to realize that there’s something that needs to be settled. It’s not just about what happened in the past, but what we might be able to do moving forward. We want to make amends.”

Eve, who had been watching with simmering rage, scoffed derisively. “Oh, so now you think a few sweet words will make up for abandoning Adam and all the chaos that followed. Don’t be naïve.”

Lilith’s gaze hardened as she shot a sharp look towards Eve, her patience wearing thin. “Eve, you’re quick to judge from the sidelines. We’re here to address what’s unresolved, not to engage in petty arguments.”

Lucifer, his tone slightly mocking but with a hint of warmth towards Adam, interjected. “Let’s not get too carried away with sentiments and accusations. The fact remains that Adam’s presence was deemed necessary. His role in this situation is far from over.”

Adam’s frustration flared. “My role? I’ve had nothing to do with Hell or its sinners. I’ve tried to move on, to build something new. I don’t see why I should be dragged back into this.”

Lucifer and Lilith exchanged a knowing glance, their silent communication fraught with meaning. It was clear to everyone that there was more to their intentions than met the eye, and their cryptic expressions left the room’s atmosphere thick with unresolved tension.

Sera, sensing the rising storm, stepped forward with a voice that cut through the murmur of discontent. “Enough of this. We need to address the matter at hand. Lucifer, Lilith—what exactly do you want from Adam? What is this about?”

Lucifer’s smirk softened, his eyes shimmering with a mix of sincerity and mischief. “What we seek is to resolve the past and perhaps find a way to move forward. It’s about understanding the full scope of what has transpired and finding a path to healing.”

Lilith, her gaze unwaveringly on Adam, added with a touch of earnestness, “We want to make amends and see if there’s any way to repair the damage that was done. It’s a complex task, but one we believe is necessary.”

Adam’s heart sank as the gravity of their request settled in. “I...I don’t know if that’s even possible.”

Eve, still seething, let out a harsh laugh. “Repairing damage? That’s rich. After everything you two did, Adam deserves more than empty words. He deserves something real.”

The room seemed to close in on Adam as he grappled with the weight of their request. The past's betrayals and the present's uncertainties pressed heavily on him. He clung to Eve’s hand, seeking solace in her presence amidst the unfolding chaos.

Lucifer’s golden eyes darkened, not liking how Adam reached for Eve. However, he sucked up and spoke as calmly and gently as possible. "Tell me, Adam, do you know what Heaven has decided to do about Hell's... overcrowding problem?"

Adam blinked, his brow furrowing. "No. I don’t."

His confusion was clear, and he looked toward Eve and Sera, as if expecting some clarification.

Lilith’s lips curved into a bitter smile. "Of course you don’t. They thought it best to keep you in the dark, too."

Her eyes flicked to Sera, who looked like she wanted to intervene, her wings rustling in nervousness.

Sera’s voice tightened as she stepped forward. "That’s not true—"

But Lilith ignored her, her focus on Adam. "Do you know why Eve is dressed like that?"

Adam’s gaze shifted to Eve, his confusion deepening. He looked at the glinting armour she wore, his eyebrows knitting together as he finally asked, "Why does it look like you’re... going to war?"

Eve flushed, her eyes darting away. She couldn’t find the words, and Lucifer, noticing her discomfort, let out a low snort.

"What’s wrong, Eve? Cat got your tongue?" His tone was mocking but still laced with amusement.

Eve shot him a furious glare, but before she could snap back, Adam held up a hand, turning back to Lucifer. "Explain it to me. What’s going on?"

Lucifer’s expression softened, his voice taking on a more tender tone as he began, “Heaven has—”

“No,” Michael interrupted sharply, stepping forward, his face hard and his wings flickering with agitation. "Lucifer has no right to explain anything to you, Adam. Not anymore."

Lucifer's eyes darkened with annoyance, but there was a touch of a smile lingering at the corners of his lips as he responded.

 "Like it or not, Michael, I am and always will be Adam’s guardian angel. That was God’s decision, not yours." The weight of his words hung in the air; a challenge Michael couldn’t easily dispute. "If he wants me to explain anything to him, I have the right to furfill that request."

Michael’s expression soured, but he said nothing more, only a frown creasing his usually stoic face. Adam, feeling the tension between them, grew more confused. He glanced back at Lucifer, waiting for an answer.

Lucifer’s gaze softened even further as he returned his attention to Adam. "Heaven has decided to exterminate the Sinners once a year. A purge, if you will."

Adam’s eyes widened in shock. "What?" His gaze darted to Eve, his voice trembling. "Is that why you're dressed like this?"

Eve looked pained; her face flushed with guilt. "Adam, Hell is growing more dangerous. Lilith was caught planning a rebellion—"

Lilith scoffed; her voice sharp as she cut in. "I was only doing what was necessary to protect my people."

Eve whirled on her, her eyes flashing with anger. "Your people? The Sinners aren’t your people, Lilith. They’re our people—mine and Adam’s. They are our children. You and Lucifer have no right to speak on how we’ve decided to deal with the rotten eggs."

Adam flinched at the term “rotten eggs,” disgust twisting in his stomach.

"How can you say that, Eve?" He shook his head, struggling to process what he was hearing. "I... I don’t see what any of you expect me to do about it."

Lucifer’s gaze never left Adam, his voice gentle but firm. "It’s not about the Sinners, Adam. That’s not why we asked you to be here."

Adam’s eyes flicked back to Lucifer; his curiosity piqued. "Then what is it about?"

Lucifer smiled warmly; the kind of smile that once made Adam feel protected, safe. He extended his hand, and a golden portal opened beside him, from which he retrieved a small booklet. As he stood up, Michael shot him a disapproving look, his wings twitching in frustration.

Lucifer rolled his eyes dramatically. "It’s just paper, Michael. Calm down."

Michael huffed but didn’t stop him, watching warily as Lucifer slid the booklet across the crystal table toward Adam. Adam glanced at the cover, his heart pounding as he reached for it.

"What is this?" Adam asked, his voice shaky as his fingers touched the edge of the booklet.

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed as he sat back down, a mixture of satisfaction and something far more tender in his expression. "The truth, Adam. Something Heaven has been keeping from you... and something you deserve to know."

The paper was colourful. It demanded his attention, sort of colour. He barely was able to look at it before Sera tried to take it away.

“You don’t have to entertain them, Adam.” She stated.

“No, but I want to see.” Adam said, taking hold of the paper before she could it from him. He didn’t see the way Sera and Michael looked one another, how Eve looked concerned and Lucifer and Lilith released soft breathes of relief.

Adam’s fingers curled around the paper, pulling it off the table. His ears became numb as soon another insulting fight broke out between Heaven and Hell. Nobody could ever stay quiet for long, Adam didn’t know who spoke first, but soon insults were bouncing between Eve and Lilith again, Lucifer and Michael, even Sera at times. But Adam kept quietly, reading over the booklet.

Adam’s heart pounded in his chest as he clutched the booklet, tuning out the escalating argument around him. The moment his fingers touched the paper, something deep inside him stirred—a mixture of dread and curiosity. He could hear Eve’s voice in the background, sharp and biting as she snapped at Lilith, and the smug retorts from Lucifer as he goaded Michael. The entire room was filled with clashing words, like weapons being thrown from one side to the other. Yet, it all felt distant, like white noise.

He had to know what was in that booklet.

Eve’s voice cut through the chaos for a brief second. “Adam, you don’t have give them the time of day. Really, you don't.”

Adam’s grip tightened around the paper, his golden eyes fixed on the words. “No, but I want to see.”

He heard her inhale sharply, as if she wanted to say more, but Adam didn’t look up. He missed the shared glance between Sera and Michael, the tension in Eve’s posture, and the way both Lucifer and Lilith seemed to relax the moment he held the booklet in his hands.

The paper felt heavier than it should have, the weight of untold secrets pressing down on him. As his eyes scanned the first few lines, the world around him began to fade even more. His ears grew numb, and the fight around him became a dull roar. He couldn’t pinpoint who had started it—Eve or Lilith, Michael or Lucifer—but it no longer mattered. All that mattered was the truth in his hands.

It was like peeling back a wound that had long since scarred over, only to find fresh pain beneath. The words on the page blurred at first, but as his focus sharpened, so did the meaning. This wasn’t just a collection of information. It was a revelation—a crack in the foundation of everything he thought he understood.

Suddenly, the noise around him broke through, Eve’s voice cutting sharp and harsh through the silence he had built in his mind.

“Don’t you dare act like you care about him now, Lilith! You had your chance, and you threw it away. You both did! He doesn't need either of you when he has me now!”

Eve’s fury was strong, and Adam glanced up just in time to see her glaring daggers at Lilith, her face flushed with anger.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed, but there was an almost amused glint in them. “Oh please, Eve. You’ve always been a replacement. A poor one at that.”

The booklet trembled slightly in Adam’s hands, but he forced himself to keep reading, even as the barbs flew around him. Lucifer’s voice dripped with condescension as he shot at Michael, “Still Heaven’s perfect little soldier, huh? Must be exhausting being so... wooden.”

Michael’s wings flickered in irritation, his jaw clenching as he tried to ignore the provocation. “I’m not engaging with you.”

Sera’s voice, tight with anxiety, tried to interject. “Can we all focus on the matter at hand? This bickering isn’t helping anything.”

Adam’s fingers traced the edges of the booklet, his curiosity slowly overtaking the growing tension in the room. As he flipped through the pages, he was greeted by a riot of colour and life—beautifully and skilfully painted creatures unlike anything he had ever seen. He had always adored nature, his duties in Heaven centred around animals and plants. He loved naming the creatures God had crafted, feeling a deep connection to each one. But what he saw here was unlike anything from Eden or Heaven.

His golden eyes burned with curiosity as they moved over the images: creatures that were a bizarre fusion of familiar and foreign. Some looked like twisted versions of animals he remembered from Eden—others were entirely alien. There were plants that shimmered with ethereal light, their forms strange and intricate. Flowers with petals like flames, animals with wings that shifted colors, beasts with eyes that glowed faintly in the dark. None of this was from the world he knew, and yet... they were breathtaking.

“What… what are these?” Adam’s voice finally broke through the argument happening around him, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

The room quieted for a moment. Eve's scowl softened as she glanced at Adam, though concern lingered in her eyes. Lilith and Lucifer exchanged a quick glance, but it was Lucifer who broke into a wide, relieved smile.

“These,” Lucifer said, his voice filled with satisfaction, “Are the Hellborns.”

Adam blinked, looking up from the booklet, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Hellborns? Like… the Heavenborns?”

Eve opened her mouth, her hand tightening slightly on the armrest. “No, Adam, it’s not—”

“Yes,” Lilith interjected, her voice firm but gentle, cutting Eve off. “They are the same.”

Adam’s gaze flicked between them, confusion deepening. “But… I thought Hell was only for Sinners.”

Lilith’s expression softened as she leaned forward slightly. “That’s what they want you to believe. Hell is a land of the forgotten, Adam. It’s where beings without purpose or hope are thrown. Yes, it is home to the Sinners… but it is also home to the Hellborns. Beings born from the very fabric of the underworld, creatures that no one remembers or cares about. Creatures that didn’t ask to be here.”

Lucifer leaned in, his voice taking on a softer, more intimate tone. “We’ve done everything we can to save them, Adam. To give them a chance to thrive. But…”

He paused, his expression darkening for the briefest moment, “They keep fading away.”

Adam’s heart stirred. There was a tug deep inside him, one he hadn’t felt in what seemed like an eternity. It was the same pull he had felt when he first woke up in Eden, when God had told him to name every plant and animal in the garden. To give them purpose and meaning. That same feeling was creeping back into his chest, a quiet whisper urging him forward.

Lilith’s words washed over him, her tone both sorrowful and urgent. “We tried everything, Adam. But Hell is a harsh place. They need more than what we can give. They need someone who understands… someone like you.”

Adam’s fingers tightened on the booklet as his gaze travelled across the painted images of these forgotten creatures. He could see the pain in Lilith’s eyes, the desperation in Lucifer’s smile.

But before Adam could speak, Michael interrupted, his patience evidently thinning. “Enough, Lilith. This has nothing to do with Heaven or Adam’s responsibilities. The Hellborns are not our concern. They were never meant to be.”

Lucifer’s eyes darkened, his usual smugness fading as he shot a sharp look across the table. “Oh, don’t be so short-sighted, Michael. You’re not the only one who can decide what’s important here.”

Michael crossed his arms, his wings twitching slightly in irritation. “Adam has no business getting involved in this.”

Lucifer’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, his eyes glinting with defiance. He leaned back in his seat, his gaze never leaving Michael’s. “Maybe… but Adam wants to know, doesn’t he?”

He turned his head toward Adam, his expression softening again, and this time it wasn’t an act. His smile was gentle, familiar in a way that tugged at Adam’s heart. “Isn’t that right, Adam?”

Adam hesitated, his eyes darting between Michael’s stern face and Lucifer’s warm gaze. Slowly, his head dipped in a small nod. “I… I want to know more.”

His attention shifted back to the booklet, captivated by the creatures painted there.

“Did… did you paint these?” he asked quietly, glancing up at Lucifer and Lilith.

Lilith smiled softly. “We did.”

Adam stared down at the paintings again, his mind racing.

“They’re… really good,” he admitted, his voice a little hesitant but sincere.

“I’m glad you think so.” Lucifer beamed, a proud and almost childish grin spreading across his face. His eyes sparkled, his usual arrogance fading into something softer, more genuine.

Adam's heart tightened in his chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, he found himself curious—genuinely interested in something beyond the chaos and the anger that had surrounded them for so long. He looked up at Lilith and Lucifer, both of whom were watching him with hopeful eyes, and for a moment, the weight of their past seemed to lift, if only a little.

But the silence didn’t last long.

Eve, her voice laced with unease, leaned forward. “Adam, you don’t owe them anything. They’re just trying to manipulate you—again.”

Adam frowned; the booklet still clutched in his hands. “I’m not being manipulated. I just want to understand.”

Lilith’s smile grew a little wider, but there was something almost sad in her eyes. Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed almost giddy, as if finally—finally—Adam was starting to see things from their perspective.

Adam's fingers traced the delicate lines of the painting—a bird-like creature with brilliant, iridescent feathers and eyes that seemed to follow him from the page. His touch was almost reverent, as if through the art, he could feel the life of the creature beneath his fingertips. His gaze slowly lifted, moving across the room, first to Lilith and Lucifer, then toward Eve, Michael, and finally Sera. He swallowed thickly, his thoughts swimming in the tension that hung thick in the air.

“Why show me this?” he asked quietly, his voice cutting through the silence that had briefly settled after their latest spat.

Lucifer let out a quiet sigh, as if the weight of the question bore heavily on him. He leaned forward, his expression more solemn than before. “Because we know we can’t save the Sinners anymore, Adam. Heaven has already decided. The exterminations will go ahead, no matter what we think or do.”

Adam tilted his head, curiosity burning in his golden eyes. “Then… why? Why call for me at all?”

Lilith and Lucifer exchanged a long, meaningful glance, something passing between them unspoken. Lilith finally leaned in, her voice soft, almost tender. “We want to save the Hellborns from the exterminations, Adam.”

Adam’s brows furrowed, still struggling to understand. “The Hellborns… but why? Why does that matter to you?”

Lilith’s eyes softened, and for a moment, her vulnerability shone through. “Because we wish to have a child someday.”

Adam blinked in surprise. “A child?”

Eve scoffed, her voice dripping with bitterness. “Lilith can’t have children. God never gave her the ability too.”

Lilith’s eyes blazed with anger, but she held her tongue, glaring daggers at Eve. “I’m aware of that.”

Lucifer muttered under his breath, “This is why we didn’t want Eve involved in the meeting.”

Michael, growing impatient, crossed his arms. “I’m growing tired of this game.”

Lucifer’s temper flared as he snapped, “Then leave if you want. No one's forcing you to stay."

Michael’s glare was sharp and unyielding, but Lucifer ignored him, his focus shifting back to Adam. Adam, caught in the middle, chewed his bottom lip, feeling the weight of their gazes pressing on him. His thoughts spun, trying to piece together why he was even here, what they were really asking of him.

“So…” Adam started, his voice quiet but firm, “what does this have to do with me? What do the Hellborns have to do with me?”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and for a moment, all the arrogance and smugness seemed to vanish. “We want you to come to Hell.”

Eve’s reaction was immediate. Her chair scraped against the floor as she stood, her face a mask of outrage.

“Why would you ever think that would happen?!” she demanded.

Lilith remained calm; her voice steady but pointed as she looked Eve in the eye. “You know full well the power Lucifer and I hold. The Sinners can’t touch the extermination angels, but we can. You know that.”

Sera, her brow furrowed in concern, asked cautiously, ��Are you suggesting you’d stand in the way of Heaven’s extermination?”

Lucifer shrugged, his expression unreadable. “We’re not saying we will, just that we could.”

Michael straightened, his body tense, arms crossed tightly. “So, what, are you implying that Heaven should hand Adam over to you to make sure you don’t interfere?”

Lucifer’s gaze flickered with a moment of worry as it landed back on Adam, but his voice was calm. “We’re not asking for Adam to stay with us forever. Just for a few months… maybe a year at most.”

Eve’s voice shook with restrained fury. “Why? Why would you even suggest that?”

Lucifer’s eyes were steady as he explained. “The Hellborns have no purpose. They fade away, forgotten. Adam’s power, his gift, has always been to give purpose. He names God's creations, defines them. The Hellborns are God’s creations too, whether you accept that or not.”

Michael scoffed, shaking his head. “The Hellborns are not our concern.”

Sera, ever the mediator, stepped in again. “If it’s the Hellborns you want to protect, we could arrange for the extermination angels to leave them untouched. Adam doesn’t need to go to Hell for that.”

Lilith shook her head, her frustration clear. “That’s not enough. We wish to have a child someday, and our child will be a Hellborn. Hellborns fade without purpose, and our child would too. We need Adam to give them—give our child—a future.”

Eve shook her head vehemently. “You can’t have children. You can’t carry a child, Lilith.”

Lilith’s gaze narrowed, but she didn’t rise to the bait this time. Michael and Sera, however, exchanged thoughtful glances.

After a tense silence, Michael spoke slowly, weighing his words carefully. “If we were to agree… if we allowed you to ‘borrow’ Adam for a year, even if this plan of yours fails, you’d stay out of the exterminations?”

Lucifer’s expression softened as he nodded. “We would. That’s our promise.”

Eve gasped, her disbelief clear. “Are you seriously considering sending Adam to Hell?”

Sera looked at Eve with pained eyes. She was clearly conflicted, her gaze shifting to Adam, who looked frozen in shock and disbelief, the weight of the conversation bearing down on him.

Michael’s voice was hard as he addressed Lucifer. “If we agree to this, there will be no harm to Adam. You don’t touch him. Not once.”

Lucifer looked insulted; his voice sharp. “You really think so little of us?”

Lilith’s lips tightened into a thin line. “Don’t answer that,” she muttered. “It’s obvious what they think of us.”

She turned to Adam then, her gaze soft and full of something that resembled the warmth they once shared. “We would never hurt you again, Adam. You know that.”

Adam’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. His fingers trembled slightly as he looked at the booklet in his hands, the Hellborn creatures staring back at him, pulling at something deep inside his soul. He felt the familiar tug, the pull of purpose. But the weight of everything—the betrayals, the pain, the love, and the loss—clouded his mind. Could he really trust them again? Could he do this for them? For the Hellborns?

He wasn’t sure. But for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t entirely certain he could say no.

"Can... can I think about it? At least?" Adam’s voice, barely above a whisper, pierced through the soft murmur of the hall, instantly quieting the room.

Lilith’s lips curled into a gentle smile, a wave of relief washing over her. He hadn’t dismissed them. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Adam hesitated, his eyes flickering between them, his voice even softer now.

“And... could I keep this too?” He glanced at the booklet in his hands, almost shy in his request.

Lucifer’s heart swelled with joy, his face lighting up with pure delight. Adam wanted to keep what they had made!

He nodded eagerly, his voice bubbling with excitement. “Yes! Yes! Of course, you can keep it! We’d love for you to keep it!”

Blushing deeply, Adam’s fingers tightened around the delicate pages, feeling the warmth rise all the way to the tips of his ears. He nodded again, his voice barely audible. “Thank you.”

His thoughts whirled. Go to Hell for a full year? With just Lucifer and Lilith? Could he really do that? Be with the two people he loved more than anything, yet who had caused him such pain, leaving his heart shattered? It felt overwhelming... but then there was that familiar tug deep inside him. The pull of his power, his purpose. The need to face those Hellborns, to name them, to grant them the right to exist—even if their home was Hell itself.

“The meeting is adjourned,” Michael announced abruptly, rising from his seat. “We’ll return in a week with our decision.”

Lucifer, still riding the wave of joy from Adam’s request, barely noticed the stern look his brother was giving him. He grinned wide, almost giddy. “Perfect! We’ll see you in a week!”

“Adam,” Lilith’s voice was as soft and tender as a lullaby, echoing with the same sweetness she’d spoken with in Eden. “Thank you for hearing us out.”

Adam blinked in surprise, her words gently wrapping around him. Slowly, he gave a small nod, his voice barely above a breath.

“...No problem...”

~#~

As they left the meeting, Eve fell into step beside Adam, her voice soft but insistent. "Adam... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn’t tell you about the exterminations sooner." Her eyes flickered with regret, though her tone remained firm. "I was trying to protect you, protect Heaven. It's... it's what’s best for everyone."

Adam remained silent, his steps slow and deliberate as he listened. Eve didn’t notice his quietness, too caught up in her own words. She rambled on, her words coming in waves.

“Sinners aren’t like us, Adam. They’ve fallen, they’ve failed. Their punishment is necessary. We can’t let them spoil what we’ve built here. They’re… they’re the bad ones, the rotten eggs among our children.”

Her voice softened as she reached for his hand, but her words were still sharp. “It’s mercy, Adam. True mercy. To let them live in Hell, knowing they could never be like us… it’s cruel. This is kinder.”

Adam’s mind wandered as she spoke. Could it really be mercy? Could it be fair for the damned to suffer in Hell only to be killed again, stripped of even that painful existence? His heart ached with doubt. He didn’t agree—not fully—but he couldn’t find the words to say it. Not now.

Eve squeezed his hand and led him through the familiar path to their shared home, her voice still echoing the same justifications. Their garden awaited them, blooming with all the vibrant life Adam adored. The air was fragrant with the scent of roses, bluebells, sunflowers, and daisies. Each plant was a testament to his love for beauty and growth, their colors bright and warm beneath the soft light of Heaven.

Adam’s gaze lingered on the flowers, but for the first time, his thoughts drifted to something else.

What did the flowers in Hell look like? Did they bloom like these, or were they twisted, dark reflections of the beauty he cherished here?

He turned his eyes to the Heavenborn tiger that lazed in the grass nearby, its golden and white fur shimmering in the glow of their garden. Without a word, Adam slipped away from Eve’s side and moved to the tiger, lowering himself into its soft, warm fur. The creature purred gently as Adam nestled into its embrace, finding a quiet comfort there. His fingers sank into the thick fur as his thoughts drifted once more.

What were Hell’s Hellborns like? Did they glow like this tiger, or were they something else entirely?

Eve, standing with her hands on her hips, watched him with growing frustration. Her voice sharpened as she asked, “Adam, are you seriously considering this? Entertaining Lucifer and Lilith? Going to Hell for a whole year?”

But Adam didn’t respond. His fingers traced the edge of the booklet Lucifer had given him, its weight heavy in his hands. He stared at it, the delicate pages filled with hope and promises of something different, something unknown. Something that tugged at him, even as he lay surrounded by the familiar comfort of his garden.

Eve’s voice grew softer, but it didn’t reach him. He was already lost in thought, torn between the world he knew and the one that waited below.

~#~

Meanwhile, in the depths of Hell, Lucifer and Lilith let out synchronized sighs of relief as they left the meeting. The tension that had gripped them throughout the entire exchange with Heaven finally began to ease.

"That... could have gone better," Lucifer muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair. His usual confident demeanor was tinged with frustration.

Lilith hummed softly in agreement, her arms crossed as she glanced back toward where the meeting had been held. "It would've been better if we could have spoken to Adam alone," she said, her voice carrying the weight of her disappointment.

Lucifer nodded, the corners of his mouth pulling into a tight line. "True, but you know Heaven would never allow that. Not after everything."

They both sighed again, this time in sadness, the unspoken ache shared between them. It had been so long, too long, since they’d seen Adam. And despite the tensions that lingered, it had been good—heartachingly good—to see him again.

"I missed him so much," Lilith admitted quietly, her voice almost breaking. "It was... comforting to see him, to know he’s healthy."

"Yeah... he's doing well. But..." Lucifer gave a small, weak smile but then it faltered as he met her gaze, knowing they both felt the same unspoken concern. "I don’t like how close he is to Eve."

Lilith's lips pressed into a thin line; her displeasure evident. "Neither do I. There's something about her... it feels wrong. I don’t like how she talks, how she looks at him."

Her gaze softened with a hint of sorrow. "But at least Adam still seems... himself. Still sweet, like he was in Eden."

Lucifer’s smile returned, though faintly. "We should be thankful that Eve’s bitterness hasn’t completely rubbed off on him. He hasn’t changed as much as I feared."

He looked off into the distance, a softness in his eyes. "He’s still so innocent, in a way."

Lilith nodded, her own small smile returning. The idea that Adam had held on to pieces of his old self, despite everything, filled her with a fragile sense of relief. "He really is. It’s... it’s nice to see that."

A pause stretched between them, heavy with unspoken regrets, before Lilith finally broke the silence, her voice trembling slightly. "I regret how we left things in Eden."

“I regret it too," he admitted, his tone heavy. Lucifer’s eyes darkened, the familiar weight of guilt pressing down on his shoulders. "But... I wasn’t expecting him to run from us when we came back for him. That hurt more than I can even say."

Lilith’s gaze dropped, pained. "I can never forget the look he gave me," she whispered, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "The fear in his eyes. I hate that he was so scared of me... of us."

Her voice cracked. "He ran away from me, Lucifer. And he cried. I made him cry."

Lucifer stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I know. I hated it too."

His voice was thick with emotion, his usual confident facade breaking. "I never wanted to make him cry. Never. It broke me seeing him like that... but we didn’t have a choice. We had to make sure it was safe for him before we could take him with us."

"I know," she murmured. Lilith nodded slowly, though the pain in her eyes didn’t ease. "If we’d taken him with us back then... he could’ve gotten sick, maybe even died. I just wish I could tell him that. I wish he knew that he was always meant to be with us."

Lucifer’s grip on her shoulder tightened in reassurance. "We’ll be able to tell him someday. He’ll understand. He has to."

Lilith looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "Do you really think Heaven will let him come to Hell for a year? Do you think they’ll let him be with us?"

"I don’t know," he admitted, his voice low. Lucifer’s expression darkened slightly. "But Michael seemed to take our threat seriously when we mentioned interfering with the extermination."

Lilith frowned at the mention of the exterminations, her distaste clear. "I hate those. The idea of killing the Sinners again and again... it feels so wrong. How can they call it mercy?"

Lucifer nodded grimly. "It’s horrible. And it was clear Adam didn’t like it either."

"That’s the one thing that gives me hope," Lilith said softly, her eyes distant. "Adam still has that empathy. That tenderness. Maybe... maybe that means we have a chance."

Lilith’s brow furrowed as she turned to Lucifer, a hint of worry lingering in her eyes. “Do you really think this plan will work?” she asked quietly, her voice laced with uncertainty.

Lucifer’s expression softened, his smile returning, though it carried the weight of years of effort.

“It has to, Lilith,” he murmured. “We’ve been working on this for so long. Too long to fail now.”

Lilith nodded, though her frustration bubbled to the surface. “You’re right. It’s been so long,” she said, her voice rising with simmering anger.

“Do you know how many centuries we’ve spent just trying to get Heaven to let us see Adam? Just to be in the same room as him? And they still treat us like we’re—like we’re nothing to him.”

Her words came out sharper than she intended, and she clenched her fists, her body tense with the weight of their shared struggle. But before the anger could take root any deeper, Lucifer gently took her hand, squeezing it in quiet reassurance.

“Lilith,” he said softly, his golden eyes steady as they met hers. “It’ll work out. Adam will be ours again.”

For a moment, Lilith’s anger faded, replaced by a soft smile. She let out a long, tired sigh, her shoulders easing as she rested against Lucifer’s.

“If Adam comes to save the Hellborn, that is,” she whispered, her tone quieter, tinged with hope.

A grin slowly spread across Lucifer’s face, his confidence returning. “Of course he will,” he said, almost playfully. “He’s soft. Tender. That’s who he is.” His smile grew warmer as he leaned closer, his voice dipping into a familiar, soothing cadence. “We have to be gentle with him. Tender. Patient. We can’t rush things with Adam—not if we want him to stay.”

Lilith chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I know, I know.”

“We can’t frighten him. The last thing we want is for him to pull away again.” Her voice softened as she thought of how much had already been lost, of Adam’s fear, his tears. They couldn’t let that happen again.

Lucifer nodded; his expression firm yet gentle. “Exactly. We’ll be patient. Adam will come to Hell, and he’ll give the Hellborn a purpose. And in doing so…”

He smiled, the weight of their plan settling into place. “He’ll save our future child.”

Lilith’s eyes gleamed at the mention of it, the future they had dreamed of for so long.

“Once Adam’s pregnant with our baby,” she said softly, the word ours filling the air like a promise, “He won’t be able to leave Hell, no matter what.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, but there was a flicker of something possessive in his smile. “One year will never be enough, Lilith. You and I both know that. Once Adam’s with us, there won’t be any going back.”

Lilith’s smile deepened, her heart lightened by the thought.

“No,” she agreed. “There won’t be.”

They loved Adam so much. It was a shame Adam misunderstood their intentions in Eden. But they weren't about to make the same mistake twice.

[dilfdemolisher]

SURRENDER - Vampire!Hannibal AU

Summary: Now with a better understanding for the need of blood, it's time for you to hunt for your own meals - Comments and critiques are encouraged.

Content Warning: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, cannibalism, gore, manipulation, death, a pitiful attempt at gothic romance vibes

Word Count: 1.9k This a continuation of this post Eternal

The moon hangs like a distant, judgeful eye above you. The shadows stretch long and grotesque beneath the towering trees, their gnarled branches reaching like skeletal hands toward the heavens you’ll never reach. You stand at the edge of the forest, legs rooted in place. The wind sighs through the trees, carrying with it the heavy scent of rot and damp earth. But beneath that decay, your sharpened senses detect something far more seductive—something that coils in your chest with a cruel, insistent hunger.

Human blood.

The faint pulse of life in the distance, thrums against your consciousness. The hunger gnaws at you so cold and relentless, while you struggle to forget the curse that has claimed you. But Hannibal—he has no such delusions. His plans for you are far more insidious.

He stands beside you, still as death himself. Eyes, dark and fathomless, fixed forward. There’s a cold serenity in his gaze, a calmness that chills through your lacklustre-soul, as if the horror of what lies ahead is a trivial affair, that this shall be your new normal.

“You’ll soon understand.” His words, meant to offer comfort, instead suffocate you.

You swallow, your throat dry and parched, every muscle rigid. “I can’t,” you murmur. Though the words feel thin, you know they’re not truthful.

Hannibal moves closer, the chill of his presence palpable, a weight pressing down on your grave. “You will,” he replies, his tone not harsh but final; judgement day has passed long ago.

Weeks have passed since you last tasted blood, and now hunger is a living thing within you clawing at the walls of your resolve. You have fought it, tried to cling to some semblance of humanity, but it’s fruitless.

Hannibal watches you with unyielding eyes, “You’re starving,” he says, the observation as simple as it is obvious. “Why prolong your suffering? This is what you are now.”

The words dig into you like nails, the truth in them is undeniable, yet you shake your head, retreating a step from his unholy presence. “I don’t want to kill,” you whisper.

“You are no longer human, clinging to their morals is folly. You need to feed; that is what matters.” He says.

Your hardened heart hammers in your chest, but it is not fear that propels it—it is hunger. That endless, gnawing ache deep within your bones, a hunger that will tear you apart if left unsated. The scent of human life wafts through the trees again, an irresistible lure that tugs at the frayed end of your resolve. 

“I don’t want to be cruel,” you pointedly stammer.

“There is no other way,” he says, his voice colder now, edged. “You feed, or you die. And the hunger... the hunger will tear you apart far more cruelly than I ever could.”

The night seems to press closer around you, a living, breathing entity that watches, waiting for you to fall, waiting for you. “I... I can’t...” The words barely escape your lips, trembling on the edge of despair.

“You can,” Hannibal murmurs, his gaze unrelenting, drawing you deeper into the abyss. His cold eyes hold yours in a vice grip. “Soon, you will understand. Murder is only itself when the perpetrator is as human as the victim.”

Your body begins to betray you. A shudder runs through you as your fangs elongate, unbidden, your instincts overtaking the fragile remnants of your will. The scent of iron calls to you and fills your senses until it is all that exists as Hannibal steps into the forest ahead of you. 

For a moment, you stand paralyzed at the edge, your heart pounding against your ribs as if it, too, seeks to escape this fate. But then, as if guided by some unseen hand, your legs carry you forward into the black maw of the woods.

The silence is encompassing, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves beneath your feet and the distant whisper of the wind. Every sense is heightened, the cool night air dull against your icey skin, the scent of the earth rich and suffocating. And beneath it all—the unmistakable thrum of a human life.

Hannibal stops abruptly, his head tilting ever so slightly, his gaze fixed on a figure barely discernible through the trees. Your breath catches in your throat.

There—a man, alone. His steps are unhurried, his presence oblivious to the predators lurking. You can hear his heartbeat now, steady and strong, the rhythm of his pulse beckoning you like a siren's call. The hunger rises within you, sharp and terrible, clawing at your insides.

You try to hold on to some piece of humanity. He’s a person—a life, not just blood, you think desperately. 

“No,” you whisper, your voice breaking as you step back, but Hannibal’s gaze is solid, implacable.

“You will,” he says, his voice like a death knell as he steps closer. His hand grips your arm, his strength inescapable as he pulls you toward the man. “He’s already dead; the moment we found him, his fate was sealed.”

Terror mingles with hunger as your legs move of their own accord, drawing you toward the pulse of life, the scent of blood filling your senses. You don’t want this. You never wanted this. But that no longer matters.

The man turns, his eyes widening in terror as he spots you. You wonder how inhuman you must look for such a response. 

He stumbles back, his heartbeat a drum in your ears, but you are already on him. Your hands grip his shoulders as your fangs pierce his skin, and the warmth of his blood fills your mouth, intoxicating and terrible.

The hunger quiets, for a moment, the darkness receding as you drink deeply. Each drop of life you steal, a part of your soul crumbles, sinking into the abyss as a trade. His struggle weakens, life draining away beneath your hands.

When you finally pull back, gasping for breath, the man lies lifeless beneath you, grey and still. His blood stains your lips, warm and thick, and the weight of what you’ve done crashes over you in a tide of disgust; You’ve crossed a line from which there’s no return.

As you stagger backward, the taste of the man’s blood lingers on your tongue, the sweetness tainted by the bitterness of guilt. His body, crumpled and motionless at your feet, seems to stretch the silence around you into an unbearable void. You can feel the chill of the night air again, sharper now, as if the life you just consumed had momentarily made you mortal again. 

Your hands shake, still stained with his blood, as you stare down at the lifeless form. You want to scream, to cry, to tear away the skin that now marks you as something monstrous. But your voice is caught in your throat, suffocated by the weight of what you’ve done.

Suddenly, Hannibal is beside you. He moves with that same eerie grace when he places his hand to rest on your shoulder, firm but not harsh. 

“You did well,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, like the cool touch of a breeze after a storm. There is no cruelty in his tone now, no sharpness. Only a calm, unsettling tenderness.

“I—” You choke on the words, your body trembling. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you want to tell him that you didn’t want this, that you never wanted to be a killer. But no words come. All that escapes you is a quiet, broken sob.

Hannibal kneels beside you, his fingers gentle as they wipe away the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes. His face, pale and serene, showing no judgement, only understanding—a cold, distant kind of understanding that somehow twists the knife deeper.

“You are grieving,” he says softly, hand still lingering against your cheek. “But what you grieve for is the person you used to be—the human that you are no longer. What you are feeling now, this anguish, is only the remnant of a life that is behind you. A life that you must release.”

You shake your head, wanting to deny it, but his gaze holds you captive. He does not avert his gaze, nor does he look at the man you have just killed. His focus is entirely on you.

“There is nothing to fear in what you’ve done,” he continues, his voice like velvet wrapping around and cushioning your shattered thoughts. “You feel sorrow now because you cling to the illusion that you could have chosen differently. But in truth, there was never a choice.”

His words are meant to comfort, to soothe the storm inside you, but they only intensify the agony that twists within your chest. You shake your head again, your breath coming in ragged gasps. “I didn’t want this,” you whisper, your voice weak and broken. “I never wanted to be this.”

Hannibal’s hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, drawing you closer. His touch is cold, but not unkind. “None of us choose this existence,” he says quietly. “But it is the existence we have been given. And now, you must learn to live within it.”

The irony that he did this to you doesn't escape you, yet you can't bother to fight. You close your eyes, wishing for the darkness to swallow you whole, to erase the memory of what you’ve just done. But Hannibal’s presence remains steady and unrelenting.

You open your eyes, tears still blurring your vision. “Is this what my life will be now?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Killing, feeding, and pretending that it doesn’t matter?”

Hannibal’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see something like compassion flicker across his features. “It will be easier,” he promises. “In time, you will see the world differently, and the weight of these moments will fade. You will learn to accept what you are, and with that acceptance will come a freedom unlike anything you have ever known.”

His hand slips from your neck, resting briefly on your shoulder before falling away entirely. He stands then, silent and graceful. “You are stronger than you think,” he says, his voice still soft. “You survived your first kill. You will survive many more.”

The forest seems to hold its breath around you, the night itself waiting for your next move. The body of the man, now a lifeless shell, lies between you and Hannibal, a grim reminder of what you’ve become. But beneath the horror, beneath the grief, you feel something stir—a strange, unsettling calm. 

It is not peace. Not yet. But it is the first hint of surrender.

Hannibal watches you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. Then, with a small nod, he turns and begins to walk deeper into the forest, his form melding with the shadows. 

For a moment, you hesitate. You could stay here, with the corpse, with the horror and the grief. You could remain in the ruins of your former self, lost and broken.

But then, as if pulled by some unseen force once again, your legs begin to move, carrying you forward into the darkness after him.

The night swallows you whole, and for the first time, you don’t resist.

@burnt-sienna-soup-ladles