#his faith carries him just like he carries it~

[faithshouseofsmut]

Late night desires|| DBF!Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Summary— Kimi has been feeling things for his best friend’s daughter and little does he know that she wants him to.

Word count— 5364

Warnings — hints of prevy!Kimi somnphilia and oral male receiving and p in v

It is I Faith from faithshouseofchaos (I’m trying to find my followers I deleted my OG account)

The warm glow of the sunset spilled over the water, reflecting soft oranges and pinks across the surface. The Räikkönen family villa was alive with laughter and conversation. A small gathering, nothing extravagant—just close friends, family, and a few glasses of wine shared between them.

You wandered out onto the deck, the buzz of chatter fading behind you. The air was cooler out here, the scent of pine and lake mingling in the breeze. Leaning against the railing, you sipped from your glass, letting the quiet soothe you.

Behind you, the door slid open with a soft thud and a familiar, low voice cut through the stillness.

“Escaping already?”

You turned to see Kimi, glass in hand, his usual stoic expression softened by the golden light. He looked more relaxed than usual, though the sharpness in his eyes was still there—like he was always watching, always calculating.

“Just needed some air,” you said, smiling. “The conversations in there are… lively.”

He smirked faintly, stepping closer to lean on the railing beside you. “That’s one way to put it.”

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled only by the gentle lapping of water against the dock. You stole a glance at him, your heart doing a little flip despite your best efforts. He was dressed simply—black shirt, jeans—but something about the way he carried himself made him magnetic.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said, your tone teasing.

“I’m always quiet,” he shot back, his lips twitching into something that almost resembled a grin.

You laughed softly. “Fair point.”

The silence stretched again, but this time, it felt heavier. You could feel his gaze shift to you, lingering just long enough for the air to thicken. You turned to meet his eyes, and the intensity there caught you off guard.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, swirling the liquid in his glass as if it could drown whatever thoughts had crossed his mind.

“Nothing,” he muttered. But the way his fingers gripped the glass told you it was far from nothing.

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something in his demeanor tonight—something different. He seemed almost… restless.

“Kimi,” you said softly, leaning a little closer. “Are you okay?”

He turned his head sharply as if your question startled him. For a split second, his mask slipped, and you saw something raw flicker across his face—something dark, something dangerous. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual calm indifference.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly, draining his glass. He straightened, stepping back. “You should go inside. It’s getting cold.”

You frowned, but before you could say anything, he was already walking away, leaving you alone with the lingering tension and the sound of your heartbeat.

The gathering had dwindled as the hours slipped by. Most of the guests had either left or retired to their rooms for the night. You were sitting cross-legged on the couch in the living room, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. The warm, low light of the fire danced on the walls, and the room was blissfully quiet.

You thought you were alone until the sound of footsteps on the wooden floor caught your attention.

Kimi entered the room, his movements unhurried. He held a fresh glass of whiskey, the ice clinking softly as he walked. His gaze flicked to you briefly before he settled in the armchair across from you.

“Still awake?” he asked, his voice low, almost gravelly in the stillness.

You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much wine, maybe.”

He smirked faintly, taking a sip of his drink. “That’s a rookie mistake.”

You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth quivering. “Noted, Mr. Expert.”

The silence between you felt different this timeless awkward, more charged. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he leaned back in the chair, his free hand resting on the armrest. He looked completely at ease, but there was a tension in the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“You always stay up this late?” he asked suddenly, his tone casual, but there was something else beneath it.

“Not always,” you replied. “But nights like these are nice. Quiet. Peaceful.”

He hummed in agreement, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His gaze flicked to you again, lingering this time.

“You’ve grown up a lot,” he said, his voice softer now.

The comment caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Just an observation.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you looked away, focusing on the fire instead. “Well, I’m not a kid anymore, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I know,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Something about the way he said it made you glance back at him. His eyes were on you again, and this time, the intensity in them was unmistakable. It made your stomach flip and your pulse quicken.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with unspoken tension. You weren’t sure who looked away first, but when you did, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“I should probably go to bed,” you said quickly, pushing the blanket off and standing. Your legs felt shaky, but you forced yourself to move toward the door.

“Goodnight,” Kimi said, his voice low and rough.

You hesitated for just a second, glancing back at him. His eyes were on you, dark and unreadable, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, before disappearing down the hall.

Behind you, Kimi sat motionless, his grip on the glass tightening as he watched you go. The darkness in his thoughts deepened, and for the first time in years, he didn’t know if he could control it.

The next morning the sun was already high in the sky when you finally made your way out of bed. The house was quiet, most of the guests were either sleeping off the wine or out enjoying the fresh air by the lake. You padded downstairs in a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt, your hair still slightly messy from sleep.

Grabbing a mug of coffee, you made your way to the back patio, your phone in hand. Settling into one of the chairs overlooking the water, you sipped your drink and called your best friend.

Kimi had been up for hours. He’d gone for a morning swim and was now in the garage, tinkering with one of the jet skis. The window in the garage overlooked the patio, and though he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, his attention was drawn to your voice floating through the open door.

“I don’t know,” you were saying, your tone light but tinged with curiosity. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately.”

Kimi froze, his hands stilling as he adjusted the machine. He wasn’t sure why he kept listening, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Yeah, but only with someone I trust,” you continued, laughing softly. “Otherwise, it would just be weird, you know?”

There was a pause as your friend replied, her voice too faint for Kimi to hear.

“Well, I guess it’s like… giving up control but still feeling safe. Knowing the other person would never take it too far,” you explained. “It’s not about the idea itself—it’s about the person. Someone who wouldn’t hurt me.”

Another pause.

“No, I don’t have anyone in mind,” you said, laughing nervously. “It’s not like I’m about to just tell someone that.”

Kimi’s jaw tightened, and his heart beat faster as your words sank in. He knew he shouldn’t be listening. He should walk away, close the door, and do anything but stay rooted in place. But he couldn’t. The image your words painted—the trust, the vulnerability—was now burned into his mind.

“Okay, fine,” you said, your tone teasing. “If I had to choose… it would have to be someone older, I think. Someone calm, who knows what they’re doing.”

Kimi’s grip on the wrench tightened, his knuckles white.

“Someone who wouldn’t judge me,” you continued, your voice softer now. “Someone who’d take care of me, even in that kind of situation.”

Your friend said something that made you burst into laughter, breaking the tension in the air.

“Shut up!” you said, still laughing. “Anyway, I’m just saying it’s something I’d try. With the right person.”

Kimi forced himself to look away, his chest tight. He hated the way his thoughts spiraled, the way his mind filled in blanks it shouldn’t. He wasn’t that person. He couldn’t be.

But the darkness that had begun to creep in last night had now taken root, and he wasn’t sure he could stop it.

By mid-afternoon, the villa was alive again, with a few people lounging by the water or taking out jet skis. You were sitting on the dock, your legs dipped into the cool lake, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your skin. The earlier conversation with your friend had slipped from your mind, but the restlessness from last night lingered.

Kimi approached from the shore, a towel slung over his shoulder. His hair was still damp from another swim, and his shirt clung to him slightly, hinting at the toned muscles beneath. He stopped a few feet away, watching you for a moment before speaking.

“Mind some company?”

You looked up, squinting against the sunlight. “Of course not.”

He sat down beside you, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just watching the ripples in the water.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he said, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

“Just enjoying the peace,” you replied, glancing at him with a small smile. “It’s beautiful out here.”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon. But his thoughts were far from peaceful. Your voice from earlier still echoed in his mind, the words replaying over and over. He tried to push them away, but they clung to him, feeding the darker side of his imagination.

“You and your friend were laughing pretty hard this morning,” he said after a moment, his tone carefully neutral.

Your stomach flipped. Had he overheard you? No, that was impossible. But something in his voice made you hesitate.

“Yeah,” you said cautiously. “Just… girl talk.”

He hummed, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine.

“Interesting conversation?” he asked, turning his head to look at you.

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze. “Nothing you’d care about,” you said quickly, trying to brush it off.

Kimi’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, but his eyes were darker than usual. “You’d be surprised what I care about.”

The way he said it made your breath hitch, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Well,” you said finally, trying to keep your tone light. “I don’t think you’d want to hear about my… preferences.”

Kimi’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he leaned back on his hands, his body language deceptively relaxed.

“Preferences can say a lot about a person,” he said casually. “Like trust, for example. That’s not something everyone gives easily.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you were certain he knew it. “Trust is important,” you said quietly, your eyes fixed on the water.

“Very,” he agreed, his voice softer now, almost a murmur.

The tension between you was palpable, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You felt exposed, like he could see right through you.

“I—uh—I should check on my dad,” you said abruptly, standing up and brushing off your shorts.

Kimi looked up at you, his expression unreadable. “He’s probably fine,” he said, his tone calm. But there was something in his eyes that made it hard to move.

“I still should,” you said quickly, your voice faltering.

You turned and walked away, feeling his gaze on you the entire time. Once you were out of sight, you leaned against a tree, trying to steady your breathing.

Back on the dock, Kimi sat motionless, his mind racing. He knew he should stop. He knew this was dangerous—wrong. But the way you looked at him, the way you reacted to his words, only pulled him deeper.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he could resist any more.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the lake. You were in the kitchen, putting away the remnants of dinner while everyone else sat outside, chatting and laughing around the firepit. The warmth of the day had given way to a cooler breeze, and the house was quiet, save for the occasional clink of dishes.

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt his presence before you saw him. Turning, you found Kimi standing in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. He’d changed into a simple black sweater and jeans, but his eyes held the same intensity they had earlier on the dock.

“Need help?” he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

He didn’t move, didn’t look away. The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken. You turned back to the counter, trying to focus on the task in front of you, but your hands trembled slightly.

“You seemed distracted today,” he said, stepping into the room.

You laughed nervously, not turning around. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Hmm.”

The sound was noncommittal, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel him getting closer, his presence is overwhelming.

“Anything on your mind?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost a murmur.

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the dish in your hands. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

“Liar.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and charged. You turned to face him, your heart pounding. “Excuse me?”

Kimi was closer now, just a few feet away. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with something darker, something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply.

“I haven’t—”

“Yes, you have.”

His tone was firm but not angry, and that only made it harder to respond. You opened your mouth to protest again, but no words came out.

“Why?” he asked, stepping even closer.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you said finally, your voice shaky. “I just—”

“You just what?”

The proximity, the intensity in his gaze—it was too much. You took a step back, but the counter stopped you. He didn’t touch you, didn’t move closer, but the space between you felt electric.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi tilted his head slightly, studying you. “You don’t know,” he repeated, his tone almost teasing.

“No.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension was unbearable, and you felt like you might shatter under the weight of it.

“I heard you this morning,” he said suddenly, his voice dropping even lower.

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“On the phone,” he clarified. “Talking to your friend.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, mortified. “You—You were eavesdropping?”

“Not on purpose,” he said. “But you weren’t exactly quiet.”

You pressed your hands against the counter, your mind racing. “It was just a stupid conversation,” you said quickly, your voice shaking. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“Didn’t it?”

The question made your breath catch. You forced yourself to look at him, and the intensity in his gaze made it impossible to think.

“You said it was about trust,” he continued. “About feeling safe.”

Your throat tightened. “Kimi, I—”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, cutting you off.

The question was like a punch to the gut. You stared at him, unable to speak, unable to move.

“Yes,” you whispered finally.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but his eyes softened slightly. “Then why are you running?”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he said firmly, stepping closer again. This time, his hands came to rest on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He didn’t touch you, but the heat of his body was almost unbearable.

“Kimi, this isn’t—”

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “If you want me to stop, just say it.”

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You searched his face, looking for any sign of hesitation, but there was none.

“I—”

You couldn’t say it.

The tension snapped like a rubber band, and before you could think, his lips were on yours. The kiss was firm, almost desperate, and it left you breathless. You froze for a moment, stunned, but then your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his sweater.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing uneven.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered again, his voice strained.

But you didn’t.

The house was silent, the kind of stillness that came only in the early hours of the morning. The guests had gone to bed hours ago, and even the lake outside seemed calm, its surface undisturbed under the pale glow of the moon.

Kimi lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep had eluded him all night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you—your flushed cheeks, your trembling voice, the way you’d admitted you weren’t immune to the pull between you.

It was maddening.

The house felt suffocating, the walls too close, his thoughts too loud. Without fully realizing what he was doing, Kimi got out of bed. His feet carried him down the hallway, past closed doors, until he stood in front of yours.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He knew he shouldn’t be here, that this was crossing a line he couldn’t uncross. But something deeper, darker, urged him forward.

Carefully, he turned the knob and pushed the door open, the soft creak of the hinges barely audible. The room was dim, lit only by the faint light spilling in from the hallway. His eyes adjusted quickly, finding your sleeping form curled up under the blankets.

You looked peaceful, your face relaxed in a way he rarely saw when you were awake. The sight made something twist in his chest—guilt, longing, a need he couldn’t name.

He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. The sound made you stir slightly, but you didn’t wake. He stood there for a moment, his hands clenched at his sides, trying to convince himself to leave.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he moved closer, his footsteps silent on the carpeted floor. He stopped at the edge of your bed, his gaze tracing the soft curve of your face, the way your hair fanned out across the pillow.

You murmured something in your sleep, turning slightly, and the movement made the blanket slip down, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder. Kimi’s breath hitched, and he forced himself to take a step back.

What the hell am I doing?

He knew he should leave, that staying here was a betrayal of the trust you’d given him. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. The vulnerability of seeing you like this, so unguarded, was intoxicating.

“Kimi…”

Your voice, soft and slurred with sleep, startled him. His heart pounded as he froze, waiting to see if you’d wake.

But your eyes didn’t open.

You’d said his name. Even in sleep, you were thinking of him.

His eyes locked onto your parted lips, the words "What the hell am I doing?" echoing in his mind but growing fainter by the second. He saw your shoulder bare, the curve of your neck inviting. He unclenched his hands, his fingers slowly reaching out towards you. His fingertips brushed against the soft, warm skin of your shoulder, barely a whisper of a touch. He lingered there for a heartbeat, two, his pulse throbbing beneath his skin. Then, with an exhalation that bordered on a shudder, he withdrew his hand.

He stood there for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the place where his fingers had been. The temptation to reach out again, to touch you, to be near you, was overwhelming. Finally, he made a decision and carefully sat down on the edge of your bed, his legs brushing against the covers. He sat there, staring at you, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't afford to have. His hand reached out again, this time resting gently on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of your neck. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours.

His lips hovered just above yours, close enough to feel the warmth of your breath. For a moment he hesitated, knowing he was crossing a line, but the temptation was too great. Slowly, he closed the remaining distance, his lips brushing against yours in the gentlest of kisses. As his lips met yours, Kimi felt a jolt of electricity course through him. The kiss was feather-light, barely there, but it ignited something deep within him. He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he searched your sleep-softened features.

His cock was painfully hard as he remembered your words from yesterday and how you wanted to try Somnophilia with some who you trusted and someone older. Well, you trusted him and he was older. He untied his pants slowly, freeing his hard cock. He gently pushed your legs apart and nearly melted at the sight there you were peacefully asleep only wearing a t-shirt and panties. Taking a deep breath he slowly peeled them down your legs and pocketed them for later.

Carefully, he climbed onto the bed hovering over you and he positioned himself between them. He looked at you one last time, his heart racing, before slowly pushing his hips forward, his thick cock slowly entering you as you slept. Fuck you're so tight.

His breath caught in his throat as he slowly slid deeper inside you, inch by inch. One hand supported his weight while the other moved to your hip, holding you steady as he began to move. His pace was slow, careful, knowing you were asleep. Jesus Christ... you feel so good he stays here with his cock buried inside you and dies a happy man.

He started to pick up speed, his hips moving in a steady rhythm as he fucked you while you slept. The sound of his pants rustling, his breath hitching, and the soft squelching noises of his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy filled the room. Fuck fuck fuck...here he was a man in his 40s fucking his best friend's daughter like he was a horny teenager.

His muscles tensed with each thrust, his mind racing with the taboo nature of what he was doing. The fact that he was fucking his best friend's daughter - sleeping innocently beneath him - was driving him wild. Shouldn't... fucking shouldn't be doing this... but fuck...it felt good.

Kimi's thrusts became more urgent, his cock plunging deeper into your unresisting body. The pleasure was intense, almost overwhelming in its forbidden nature. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fought to maintain control. Fuck... it's so wrong but... fucking hell... you feel amazing.

“Mmmhmm” you moaned softly as you subconsciously began to move your hips barely awake. You reached up and pulled him closer.

His hand moved from your hip to your thigh, pulling your leg up higher and spreading you wider. He angled his hips differently, his thick cock hitting a new spot inside you with each thrust. His breathing became heavier, more ragged as he chased his release. Your pussy is gripping his cock so perfectly... fuck... His fingers dug slightly into your thigh as he continued to fuck you, each thrust becoming more deeper.

Unable to hold back any longer, Kimi buried his cock deep inside you one final time, his body shuddering with the intensity of his orgasm. Ahhh... fuck yes... He groaned softly, his cum shooting deep into your sleeping pussy. Panting heavily, he remained still inside you for a long moment, savoring the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. Slowly, he withdrew, his softened cock slipping out with a soft squelch. He quickly tucked himself away, trembling hands fumbling with his pants.

The next morning when you woke up you noticed the mess between your legs and your panties were messing. What the actual fuck? You thought then you vaguely recalled the dream you had about him. In your dream, you remember how he fucked you hard deep, and slow. How Kimi gripped your hips and hit that spot that drove you crazy as he groaned in your ear.

It was almost too realistic to be a dream. Getting up out of bed you walked into the bathroom to clean yourself up walking into the bathroom you flicked the lights on taking a look in the mirror you noticed a bruise on the side of your leg confused you lifted your shirt and noticed that the bruise in question wasn’t just a bruise but a hand print.

“So it wasn’t a dream,” you say out loud to yourself.

Something about the thought of Kimi fucking in your sleep made your stomach drop and give you butterflies at the same time. You weren’t mad about it, you wanted it hell you often got off to the thought of Kimi fucking you.

Smiling to yourself you cleaned yourself up when a thought popped up in your mind after you cleaned yourself up you shut the light off and pulled on a pair of shorts walking out of the room you noticed that the house was quiet.

Quietly you walked down the hall to Kimi's room with your hand on the doorknob. You slowly turned it and opened up the door and stuck your head in the door noticing that he was still sleeping.

Slipping in the door you softly closed it and walked over to the bed stopping when you noticed a familiar pair of panties on the nightstand…your panties.

“Dirty bastard” you mumbled under your breath.

There he laid in his bed peacefully asleep. He was shirtless and in a pair of shorts partially covered by the blanket. Reaching forward you moved the blanket and climbed up on the bed settling in between his legs. You watched him for a moment before you reached out and pulled his cock out of his shorts.

Watching as his face scrunches you licked a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip then you lightly pressed kisses along his shaft. Kimi stirs slightly in his sleep, his breathing hitching as he feels a warm, wet sensation on his cock. His hips twitch, pushing his member further out of his shorts.

Kimi's eyes flutter open, his gaze immediately drawn to the sight of you kneeling between his legs, his cock now fully erect in your grasp. A groan escapes his lips as your tongue swirls around the tip. "Mm, is that you, baby? Fuck that feels good..."

His voice husky with sleep and desire "I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me, could you? Little minx..." He props himself up on his elbows, watching you intently. pulling off him you looked at him “like you’re one to talk. you took my panties dirty bastard” you retort.

Kimi chuckles, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, I couldn't resist, could I? You wear those pretty things just for me, don't you?" He reaches out and runs a hand through your hair, gently tugging on it.

“Who says they were for you?” You ask looking up at him biting your bottom lip taking his cock back in your mouth.

Kimi’s body shudders at the feeling of your mouth, her breath hitching as your words sink in. “Who else would they be for then?” His voice is low, dripping with confidence, as his fingers trace the curve of her waist. “I hear you on the phone with your friends, talking about how no boy your age can satisfy you. How they don’t know how to touch you the way you need.”

His lips hover close to her ear, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he adds, “And then, late at night, when you think no one’s listening, I hear those sweet little sounds you make, trying so hard to get off. But it’s still not enough for you, is it?”

Kimi’s cheeks flush with heat, her eyes darting away, but sits up and then he tilts her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You need a man, Kimi. An older man. Someone who knows exactly what you want before you even ask.” His cocky tone is unmistakable, yet there’s a softness in the way his thumb brushes against her jawline, leaving her breathless. “So yeah,” he murmurs, his lips grazing hers, “they’re for me.”

Your body shudders at the feeling of his mouth, your breath hitching as his words sink in. “Who else would they be for then?” His voice is low, dripping with confidence, as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. “I hear you on the phone with your friends, talking about how no guy your age can satisfy you. How they don’t know how to touch you the way you need.”

His lips hover close to your ear, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he adds, “And then, late at night, when you think no one’s listening, I hear those sweet little sounds you make, trying so hard to get off. But it’s still not enough for you, is it?”

Heat floods your cheeks, and you instinctively try to look away, but he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You need a man,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against your jawline. “An older man. Someone who knows exactly what you want before you even ask.”

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, his cocky tone making it impossible to look away. “So yeah,” he says, his lips grazing yours, “they’re for me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with tension, as he watches your reaction. You swallow hard, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His thumb traces your bottom lip, his dark eyes locked on yours, daring you to respond, to deny him.

“But,” he continues, his voice softening but still laced with that same infuriating confidence, “if I’m wrong… if you don’t want me, tell me now. Push me away.” His hand slides down to your hip, gripping it firmly but not forcefully, like he’s testing your resolve. “But I don’t think you will. Because deep down, you know I’m right.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. Your body betrays you, leaning into his touch even as your mind races with the weight of his words. His hand slides up your back, fingers splaying as he pulls you closer, his lips brushing against your jawline.

“See?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “You can’t resist. You don’t want to. And I don’t blame you. No one else can give you what I can.”

You shiver at the intensity in his voice, your hands instinctively clutching at his shirt. “You’re so damn stubborn,” he says with a low chuckle, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “But I like that about you. Makes it all the more satisfying when you finally give in.”

Your resolve falters, and your fingers tighten their grip. His name escapes your lips in a soft, breathless whisper, and he smirks, knowing he’s already won. “That’s it,” he says, his voice a low growl, pulling you even closer. “Don’t hold back. Not with me finish what you started.”

Releasing his grip on you, you crawled back down his bed and took his cock back in your one more time.

“That’s it baby just like that.”

[bumblingbabooshka]

Inspired by this post: What if B'Elanna reveals to Harry that she feels insecure about not knowing much about her Human (Puerto Rican) heritage after two interactions at the beginning of the episode - one with Chakotay and one with Tuvok where they both display a deep connection to their heritages and cultural practices. Harry then reveals that he's also mixed - his mother being Chinese while his father's Korean. Like Chakotay, he wasn't very interested in cultural practices as a kid (he seems like he'd find them boring at a young age) and his parents didn't push him to participate or learn which was fine when he was a kid but as he got older he began to feel a sense of displacement, guilt, and frustration. It's easier to just be 'Human' rather than taking ownership of anything more specific, especially since to most people he's not visibly mixed, but with being away from his family he feels now more than ever that he wishes he'd connected to that heritage. He expresses the same yearning that B'Elanna brings to him - he's also noticed that Tuvok and Chakotay can connect to their parents, their people, their faith even so far away...that connection gives them a strength and assurance that both Harry and B'Elanna envy. He tells her about the Alter Ego coaching incident and B'Elanna tells him about the Meditation Fail. They both tease each other good naturedly. B'Elanna tells Harry about how Chakotay instructed her in some of his cultural practices (we see in 'Cathexis' that she has knowledge of these practices) and how she started being jealous then, specifically of how he can connect to and sort of amend his relationship with his father (which was rocky in life) THROUGH these practices and the faith he carries in them. She sometimes tried to do the same privately but it felt like acting, uncomfortable. B'Elanna's different from Harry, having been bullied for her Klingon side heavily, she wanted very much to claim her Human (Puerto Rican) heritage. She never saw it as something boring and often tried to connect with her cousins etc over it but they always pushed her away, asserting she was 'Klingon' and as 'Other.' After her father left, she seems to have been entirely cut off from her Human side of the family. When she grew enough to do her own research into her heritage, she felt overwhelmingly that it was already too late for her to connect to this side of herself. People already only call her "Klingon" though she's half Human. If she were to attempt to claim anything more specific, she'd surely just be laughed at. Harry smiles and bumps her shoulder with his own. "I'm not laughing," he says. "You're smiling." "I usually am." Then B'Elanna smiles too. Throughout the series (from that point on) we can see B'Elanna and Harry practicing Mandarin, Korean, and Puerto Rican Spanish. Though they start off just helping the other, they start to learn all three languages between them and sometimes have conversations as they're working together which become less and less stilted as time goes on. Harry even learns a bit of Klingon! This leads to B'Elanna's Human grandmother or something being the one to contact her instead of her no-good-space-racist-daughter-abandoning-terrible-scum-father and B'Elanna opening the conversation by speaking to her in Spanish, to the woman's unabashed delight. B'Elanna quickly wipes away a tear at hearing how proud the woman is of her, how she grew up so beautifully, how she was afraid she forgot all about them or hated them for what her father did to her family but she's so pleased that obviously isn't the case, not if she took the time to learn their language. Afterward, we see B'Elanna restless in her quarters. She gets up and begins a letter. It's to her mother, whom she still doesn't know the status of (her grandmother hasn't been in contact with her or B'Elanna's father). She starts in Standard then pauses and has the computer erase that entry, beginning again in Klingon. End.

[red-phantom-0]

Damien Wayne x Tokyo Ghoul Reader

imagine!! : Damien Wayne is a complex character on his own , he has his own complex emotions and feelings that not many people can understand, que in a ghoul like sibling whom can comfort Damien in his hard times by reminiscing their own experience with them.

Edit : ty for the 48 likes!!!

Damien knew from the beginning that he was difficult . He knew that if it wasn't for the fact that he was Bruce's only blood child and the fact that he's bloody good at handling a sword that no one would bat him a bloody eye.

It was no one's fault in the family, really. He couldn't blame them honestly. Not one of them fully grasp the concept of being a living breathing weapon . A tool only made to bring destruction and wrath to others . Simply a tool. They won't understand that his angry outbursts was just him trying to come to terms with the fact that he was human and humans don't result to anger for everything.

But grasping that concept is easier said than done . Not when he grew up not knowing the warmth of a mother's embrace or the loving scolding of a father when he ate cookies for breakfast . He grew up only knowing that he had to kill to live .Not everyone in this family can grasp that but one .

Y/n is an enigma . At first, he found them absolutely weird when he first met them . He always thought their one red eye was repulsive - absolutely monstrosity. He hated how quiet they were , the bloody fact that he was a trained assassin, and he couldn't hear nor detect them entering the same room as them absolutely pissed him off.

He hated the fact that they were way too good at offense and defense . He always recalled the first mission he went with them and observed how they had somehow skillfully unarmed ten of Joker's henchmen with a bloody rock. He hated them alot you could imagine until one faithful night.

It was after one of his many tantrums , honestly Bruce and bloody Dick were getting on his nerves by calling him a child, and it only escalated when Bruce threatened to send him board school . He was so pissed he just straight up left the mansion himself and sat out in the garden.

He hadn't expected them to follow him though and at first he wanted to bloody stab them - so he did , he threw a knife at them and instead of dodging or catching it , Y/n allowed to knife to pierce their shoulder.

They hadn't even wince just gave him a smile.

" I understood why you're mad, Damien." They voiced as they sat next to him.

Damien only scowl . " You understand me - that's hilarious " .

" I do, Damien . Do you think I wanted to be what I am ? I am only what I am because people want a weapon . They were far too weak and fragile to fight off their own problems for themselves so why not let an innocent child do it for them " they said as they ripped the knife out of their shoulder and threw it behind them.

Damien shared a knowing - an understanding look with them as he finally grasped what they meant . They were a weapon like himself. A shared silence consumed them .

" These twats don't get how - how angry I am " Damien finally muttered out.

Y/n shook her head in agreement .

" They don't understand the anger we carry is not just our own but the anger of an innocent child begging for their stolen youth back " y/n muttered back.

They turned to him and held his hand with a little squeeze . Damien looked at their intertwined hands with a little smile.

" Human contact feels nice," he muttered as he squeezed their hand back . Y/n only smiled back and from then on the two were inseparable.

Wherever Y/n lurked , Damien was right next to them and wherever Damien went , Y/n went with them. Whenever Dick took away Damien's swords , Y/n would always steal it back for him. Whenever Bruce was being a bit harsh on y/n for being blood thirsty , Damien would always stand up for them.

Thus the family was shocked to see Damien , a man of fury and blood lust bond with someone . Safe to say, many of the siblings were jealous of their strong bond .

So when Dick brought up the fact with Damien one day . " So you're allies with a weird ghoul who probably murders for fun -" he was met with a knife piercing his kneecap.

[dead-dolphins]

Mountain Girl and Doctor’s son AU

A while back, I came across a piece of art on my Twitter feed that inspired me to make a tweet about it (which surprisingly blew up, lol). In the tweet, I mentioned an idea for a Doctor’s Son and Mountain Girl AU where he gets her pregnant, and the story is just them living a quiet, peaceful life in the mountains. Nothing dramatic, just wholesome vibes.

Since then, I’ve been chatting about it with a friend on Discord, and I even watched this drama called Pachinko. It’s been giving me so much inspiration because it captures a lot of the elements I want to explore, or at least hint at the kind of themes I’m aiming for.

So, this is how it goes, taking, as i’ve said, some things of the drama and adjusted it to be chill and wholesome :D

I’ve been thinking about this idea where I take inspiration from something like the Japanese occupation of Korea, like in Pachinko, but I decided to twist it and make it Marley’s occupation of Paradis instead. (I want to make it clear here that I'm not aiming for a completely faithful representation of this delicate moment in history. Instead, I’m using it as inspiration for a story, much like how many stories draw from historical events.)

In this fic, Grisha is a Marleyan doctor who moved to Paradis for work. He marries his second wife and, eventually, they have Eren. Eren grows up surrounded by his father’s Marleyan teachings and becomes a doctor like Grisha. However, Eren’s training and experience are rooted more in Marley than Paradis, giving him a unique perspective on medicine and life.

Years earlier, while Grisha was researching something in the mountains of Paradis, he met Mikasa’s parents, people who had lived there for generations. Grisha formed a strong connection with them, and their relationship grew over time. Mikasa’s parents, while not directly involved in the events of Marley’s occupation, are well aware of the tensions between the two nations and are cautious but welcoming to Grisha, as he represents a different side of the conflict.

Fast forward to a few years later: Eren, now an experienced doctor in his own right, returns to the mountains of Paradis for a visit. He’s been living in Marley for most of his life, but this time, he’s back to Paradis for some bacteriological research (I think it will be cholera). He's aware of Grisha’s friendship with some villagers there, so he decides to stay with them as long as he researches last.

It’s during this visit that Eren and Mikasa finally cross paths. Mikasa, much younger than Eren, has spent her entire life in the quiet isolation of the mountains. She knows nothing about the outside world. Her world has been shaped by the simplicity of nature and the rhythms of rural life.

Eren, on the other hand, is a product of a world far removed from the peaceful mountains. His life has been filled with the hustle and bustle of Marley, his experiences shaped by his medical career and the tensions between the nations. When he meets Mikasa, he is struck by her innocence and the calm, grounded way she carries herself. He can’t help but wonder what it would be like to live in a world as untouched by conflict as hers.

Of course, they fall for each other. Eren is respectful and curious about Mikasa, while she’s shy, unaccustomed to being around handsome men with such a modern aura. They fall in love, share playful escapades in the forest, and eventually, Mikasa becomes pregnant. True to his character, Eren marries her as a man of respect and that’s all lol.

So, here is an art that I LOVE and kinda illustrate what I want to portray:

Oh! And I have a name for it already: Little Forest.

Any thoughts? :D

[rainforestakiie]

hello!

this is a short AU! expect part 02 in a few hours! i have mostly gotten it fully written, i am just playing around with it a little. the idea behind this has been on my mind for a while now!

Frozen Out

Part 01 - Part 02

Everyone has a breaking point…

It just took Adam centuries to reach his.

In the dawn of creation, Eden pulsed with an ethereal beauty, a masterpiece painted by divine hands. Each blade of grass shimmered like emeralds kissed by sunlight, and the golden apples hanging from the Tree of Knowledge swayed lazily, their surfaces glinting with the secrets of the universe. The air itself carried the scent of blooming flowers, crisp water, and a whisper of something ancient, something eternal. It was paradise, perfect in every way. And yet, Adam was lonely.

Adam lay beneath the sprawling shade of the tree, his gaze fixed on the heavens. He traced the shifting clouds with his eyes, hoping one of them might shape itself into the figure he longed to see. His heart fluttered at the thought. Lucifer. His guardian Archangel, the one who had brought him into this garden and promised to watch over him. His protector, his light, his... everything.

Lucifer often visited Eden, descending from the heavens with the brilliance of a falling star. His presence filled the garden with an otherworldly glow, as though Eden itself bent to welcome him. To Adam, Lucifer was more than just a guardian; he was the embodiment of perfection—graceful, radiant, and untouchable. Adam adored him, though he could never find the courage to say so.

"Adam," Lucifer’s voice was soft yet commanding, like the first notes of a hymn. "Have you been well?"

Adam always nodded eagerly, stumbling over his words in his haste to please. He would recount his days, describing how he had explored the rivers, befriended the animals, or marveled at the endless beauty of Eden. And Lucifer would smile, a faint, fleeting curve of his lips that made Adam's chest tighten with something he could not name.

But those moments were rare. More often than not, Lucifer would leave, his duties in the heavens calling him away. "I must go," he would say, his hand brushing lightly against Adam's hair, a touch so brief it left Adam aching for more. "But I’ll return soon."

Adam clung to those words, even as he watched Lucifer's wings unfurl in a cascade of light, carrying him beyond the clouds. Each time, the garden felt a little dimmer, a little emptier. Adam would return to the apple tree, his only companion in Lucifer’s absence.

Now, as he lay beneath its branches, Adam reached out a hand toward the golden fruit, though he did not pluck it. His fingertips grazed the air just beneath the apple's smooth surface, as though by reaching for it, he could somehow grasp the knowledge Lucifer carried—the wisdom, the grace, the infinite love Adam longed to share.

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun seep into his skin. In his mind, he imagined a world where Lucifer stayed. Where they could walk together through the garden, laughing, talking, simply being. A world where Lucifer saw him not as a charge to protect, not as a creature to guide, but as an equal, as someone worthy of his love.

But reality was far less kind. Lucifer’s affection, while sweet and gentle, was distant. He patted Adam's head like one might a faithful dog, praised his obedience, and marveled at his innocence. To Adam, it felt like being both seen and unseen, loved yet overlooked.

"Do you think about me when you’re gone?" Adam whispered to the empty garden. His voice was swallowed by the rustle of leaves, a question cast into the void.

He imagined Lucifer in the heavens, surrounded by celestial choirs and the splendor of God’s light. Did he ever think of Eden? Of the one who waited for him beneath the golden tree? Or was Adam just another part of the garden—beautiful, yes, but ultimately forgettable?

Tears pricked the corners of Adam's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Crying would solve nothing. Instead, he curled into himself, resting his cheek against the soft grass. "I’ll wait," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I’ll always wait."

Time passed. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Still, Adam waited. His heart ached with the weight of unspoken words, of feelings too vast to contain. He longed to tell Lucifer, to say, “I love you.” But how could he? Love was a gift, and what did he have to offer an Archangel who already had everything?

The sound of wings broke the silence. Adam’s heart leapt, his breath hitching as he sat up. There, descending from the heavens, was Lucifer. His light bathed the garden in gold, and Adam’s chest filled with a bittersweet joy.

Lucifer landed gracefully, his expression calm and unreadable. "Adam," he said, his voice like the soft hum of a lullaby.

Adam’s smile was bright, though his eyes betrayed his longing. "You came back."

"Of course," Lucifer replied, his hand resting briefly on Adam’s shoulder. "I always do."

But even as they spoke, Adam could feel the distance between them—a chasm carved by divinity and duty, by the unbridgeable divide between mortal and celestial. He wanted to hold on to Lucifer, to beg him to stay. But he knew that love, if it was real, could not be chained.

So, Adam smiled, even as his heart broke. Because even if Lucifer could never love him in the way he wished, he would take what he could get. A touch, a word, a fleeting moment.

And as Lucifer left once more, Adam returned to his place beneath the tree, his silent companion. He gazed at the stars, wondering if somewhere beyond them, Lucifer was looking back.

But he knew the truth. Lucifer belonged to the heavens, and Adam… Adam belonged to Eden. And though his heart yearned, his love would remain unspoken—a quiet, eternal flame burning in the depths of his soul.

If only it was that easy…

Pain. Heart break. Horror. Only followed…

~#~

The first thing Adam felt was light. Not the harsh glare of the sun that he’d toiled under on Earth, nor the pale glow of the moon that had witnessed his quiet prayers at night. This was different. It was warm and all-encompassing, wrapping around him like a soft embrace. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Adam was no longer cold.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the brilliance of Heaven. The sky was not a single hue but a shifting cascade of colours—gold melting into silver, blue blooming into shades of pearl. The ground beneath him was soft, like the petals of a flower, and the air smelled of something faintly sweet, something he could only describe as home.

But his body—oh, his body ached. Soreness clung to his limbs like a shroud, and he winced as he shifted. His hands, calloused and cracked from years of toil, trembled in front of him. Scars crisscrossed his skin, pale reminders of the battles he had fought against the earth itself—ploughing rocky fields, hauling water across barren lands, building shelters to keep his family safe.

His family.

The thought of them made his chest tighten. Eve. His children. Every wound, every bruise, every moment of exhaustion had been for them. He had pushed himself to his limits and beyond to keep them fed, to shield them from the unforgiving world they had been cast into. And all of it—all of it—because of a single bite of forbidden fruit.

The weight of that mistake had pressed down on him every day since they left Eden. Adam had carried it without complaint, without faltering, because someone had to. Someone had to bear the burden. And now... now he was here.

He barely had time to process where “here” was before he saw her.

A figure stood before him, radiant and awe-inspiring. Her six wings shimmered like molten gold, each feather catching the light and scattering it in a thousand directions. Her face was soft yet commanding, her presence both overwhelming and soothing. She was beautiful, yes, but more than that—she was holy, a being of divine grace.

“Adam,” she said, her voice melodic and laced with something tender, something almost like sorrow.

The sound of his name on her lips was his undoing.

Adam crumpled to his knees, a broken sob tearing from his throat. His shoulders shook as tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, as if the floodgates of his soul had been thrown open. He wept for everything he had lost, for everything he had endured. For Eden, for his family, for the weight of years spent trying to atone for something he could never undo.

Sera—he didn’t know how he knew her name, but he did—was startled for a moment, her serene expression flickering with surprise. But then she moved toward him, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She knelt beside him, her wings folding around them both like a cocoon, shielding him from everything but her presence.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, her voice gentle as she pulled him into her arms. “It’s alright, Adam. You’re safe now.”

Adam clung to her like a child, his tears soaking into the fabric of her robes. “I tried,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I tried so hard. I did everything I could. But it was never enough. I—I lost Eden. I lost everything.”

Sera’s arms tightened around him, and she rested her cheek against his hair.

“Hush, my child,” she whispered. “You did more than enough. You gave all of yourself, and Heaven has seen your sacrifice. You are not lost. You are home.”

At her words, something stirred within him—a warmth, a light, something long buried beneath years of pain and struggle. It began as a flicker, a faint glow in his chest, but it quickly grew, spreading through his body like wildfire. Adam gasped as he felt it surge outward, his back arching as the sensation intensified.

And then it happened.

With a sound like thunder, golden wings erupted from his back. They unfurled in a blaze of light, each feather shimmering with an otherworldly brilliance. The pain of their emergence was sharp but fleeting, replaced almost instantly by a sense of overwhelming freedom. Adam let out a cry—not of anguish, but of release—as the wings stretched wide behind him, catching the light of Heaven and casting it in every direction.

Sera pulled back, her hands covering her mouth as she gazed at him in awe.

“Adam…” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Your wings. They’re… they’re glorious.”

Adam looked over his shoulder, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of them. They were unlike anything he had ever imagined, a reflection of the strength and resilience he had forged on Earth. For a moment, he was speechless, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of what he had become.

Sera reached out, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “You have done all that was asked of you,” she said softly.

“You bore the weight of your family’s survival, of your own exile, with grace and humility. And now, Adam, it is time for you to rest. You have earned your place in Heaven.”

Adam’s eyes filled with tears once more, but this time they were tears of relief. The crushing weight he had carried for so long was gone, lifted by her words and the gentle light of his new wings. He looked at Sera, his voice trembling as he asked, “Will it truly be better now?”

She smiled, a motherly warmth radiating from her. “Yes, my dear one. You are home, and you are loved. The darkness is behind you now.”

For the first time since Eden, Adam believed her. He closed his eyes, letting the light of Heaven wash over him, and for the first time in a long, long time, he allowed himself to hope.

Adam worked. He worked until his hands trembled and his wings ached. Heaven’s orders were absolute, its demands endless, and Adam gave everything he had. He gave and gave, offering up every ounce of his strength and will because that was what Sera wanted. That was what Heaven needed. And if he could not make others love him, if he could not bring back what was lost, then at least he could be useful.

“Adam,” Sera would say, her voice laced with that motherly warmth he craved so deeply. “You’re doing so well. Keep going. You’re Heaven’s pride.”

Those words should have comforted him, but instead, they weighed on him like chains. He nodded each time, his golden eyes bright with the fervour of someone desperate for approval.

"Yes, Sera," he’d say, forcing a smile. "I’ll do better. I’ll be everything Heaven needs me to be."

But inside, Adam was crumbling.

More souls arrived every day, their faces filled with awe and wonder, and Adam was there to guide them. He was there to smile, to reassure, to lift them up. His wings, once radiant and proud, sagged under the burden of expectation. The weight of his endless labour, of his duty to Heaven, was crushing him. But Adam refused to falter.

He had no one else.

Lucifer had shattered his heart and left him behind, stealing Eden—the only place where Adam had ever felt whole. Eve had betrayed his trust, her bite of the forbidden fruit unravelling the world he had tried so hard to keep perfect. And Lilith, the woman who had once stood beside him as an equal, had lied to his face, leaving him with nothing but bitterness.

No one had stayed. No one except Sera.

She was his guiding light, his only anchor in the vast expanse of Heaven. He clung to her approval like a lifeline, pouring his entire existence into pleasing her. Even as his wings burned with exhaustion, even as his body screamed for rest, Adam persevered. He would prove himself. He would be the golden boy Sera believed him to be.

But it was breaking him.

~#~

One day, after what felt like an eternity of serving, Adam found himself alone. He sat on the edge of a cloudy hedge, his golden wings sagging behind him. The feathers, once lustrous, were dull and trembling from the strain of holding themselves up for too long. They finally collapsed, spilling over the clouds like a crumpled halo. His chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, and his hands trembled as he rested them on his knees.

His mind, unrelenting and cruel, drifted back to Eden. His Eden. His home.

Adam swallowed hard, the memory of Eden gnawing at him like an old wound. The garden had been a paradise—lush, green, and perfect. A place where every moment felt eternal, where the air itself had been sweet with the promise of peace. But Lucifer had taken it from him.

Why? Adam had never understood.

"Why did you do it?" he whispered to no one, his voice breaking.

His golden eyes, now dulled with exhaustion, stared into the endless expanse of Heaven. His eyelids grew heavy, the dark circles beneath them deepening like shadows carved into his skin.

He missed Eden so much it hurt. The earth had been nothing like it. Earth was cruel, unforgiving, tearing at him with jagged claws. It had stripped him of everything—his comfort, his innocence, his sense of belonging. Even now, surrounded by the splendour of Heaven, Adam felt the ache of loss. Eden was the only place he had ever felt truly alive.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but he was too tired to cry. Instead, he rested his head in his hands, letting his thoughts swirl in an endless storm of longing and regret.

And then, it happened.

A faint warmth bloomed between his fingers, pulling Adam from his haze of despair. He lifted his head, blinking in surprise, as he felt something soft and delicate pressing against his palms. Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his hands.

There, growing from his touch, was a flower.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at it, his heart pounding in disbelief. It was a flower he hadn’t seen since Eden—a small, radiant bloom with petals that shimmered faintly in the light. His fingers trembled as he jerked back, startled, but the flower remained, swaying gently as though cradled by an invisible breeze.

For a long moment, Adam just stared. Memories of Eden surged through him, raw and bittersweet, as he reached out again. His fingers brushed the petals, and a gasp escaped his lips. The flower grew brighter, its stems stronger, its colours deeper. Two more blooms sprouted beside it, unfurling in delicate perfection.

Adam’s golden eyes widened. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he looked down at his hands. The realization came slowly, almost too heavy to bear.

This was him.

With shaking hands, Adam pressed his palms against the clouds beneath him. He closed his eyes, his thoughts a swirling tide of Eden—its beauty, its peace, its promise of love. The ache in his chest grew sharper, but he pushed through it, pouring everything he had into the memories.

When he opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.

Nature had begun to grow around him. Flowers, vines, and lush green grass spilled from his hands, spreading across the clouds in a radiant bloom. The air filled with the scent of Eden, that sweet, familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for centuries.

Adam’s breath hitched as he stared at the life flourishing beneath his touch. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, something inside him stirred—a flicker of hope, of purpose. This was new. This was powerful.

But even as he marvelled at the beauty he had created, a shadow lingered in his heart. He thought of Sera, of Heaven’s expectations, of the endless giving that had nearly destroyed him. Would this new power be a gift? Or would it be yet another burden to bear?

Adam clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. It didn’t matter. He would give everything—his strength, his heart, his very soul—if it meant he could finally belong. Even if it destroyed him.

Because that was all he had ever known how to do.

~#~

Adam had done everything. He had bent himself to the will of Heaven, poured every drop of his strength into its gardens, and sacrificed his own dreams for the sake of their commands. When they asked for beauty, he gave them flowers. When they demanded glory, he painted the skies with life. Adam had filled Heaven with blossoms, vines, and trees, his power bringing Eden to every corner of paradise.

Yet now, they turned their backs on him.

Why?

Why were they betraying him? Why were they leaving him to rot in his failure, to suffer in his disgrace? His mind reeled with questions, but no answers came. The betrayal burned through him like wildfire, threatening to consume the fragile remnants of his faith.

The memory of Lucifer’s cruel laughter rang in his ears.

It hadn’t started this way. Once, there had been Eden. Once, there had been the quiet, sun-dappled days beneath the apple tree, where Lucifer’s presence was warm and protective. Or so Adam thought. But the Eden he had clung to, the Eden he still mourned, had been torn away. Lucifer had ripped it from him, and Adam couldn’t even understand why.

But understanding hardly mattered now.

What mattered was the humiliation.

Lucifer had dragged him through the mud—literally. The archangel’s blows were unrelenting, knocking Adam to his knees before all of Heaven. Every strike, every mocking word, every sneer had landed like a blade, cutting deeper into his soul than any physical wound. And then, when Adam was at his weakest, humiliated and broken, the final insult came—a one-eyed sinner who caught him off guard, a dagger slicing through his side.

The pain was excruciating.

Adam remembered falling, his wings folding like broken glass behind him as light bled from his eyes. The agony of his death was unbearable, but the agony of being abandoned was worse.

No one came for him.

No divine hand reached down to save him from the darkness. The heavens left him to rot in Hell.

When Adam awoke, he was something else. Something unholy. His golden wings remained, though they were battered and dull, and his eyes still shimmered faintly with the light of Heaven. But his halo was gone, replaced by horns that twisted above his head. Adam stared at his reflection in the jagged surface of a Hellish pool, his chest tightening with despair.

He was a sinner now.

He was nothing.

The voice that broke the silence was sharp, mocking, and familiar.

“Well, well, well,” Lucifer purred, his crimson gaze glinting with amusement. “Look who’s come crawling back from the grave. Fallen from grace, haven’t we?”

He stepped closer, his smirk cutting like a blade. “How the mighty have fallen. Tell me, Adam—how does it feel to be one of us?”

Adam said nothing, his jaw tightening as he lowered his gaze.

“Oh, don’t look so pathetic,” Lucifer continued, his laughter echoing like thunder. “You didn’t honestly think Heaven would take you back, did you? You’re a sinner now, Adam. You don’t belong to them anymore. You’re mine.”

The words hit like a hammer, but Adam refused to react. He kept his head down, swallowing the bitterness that clawed at his throat.

Lucifer tilted his head, his expression shifting from amusement to feigned pity. “Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’re still holding out hope. That’s adorable.”

His grin widened, sharp and cruel. “But let me save you some time, pet. Sera doesn’t want you. She never did. You were just a tool, a pretty little puppet to do her bidding. And now?” He laughed, the sound dripping with venom. “Now you’re nothing but trash.”

Adam’s chest tightened, his mind flickering back to Eden despite himself. He remembered the way Lucifer used to smile at him, the warmth in his voice, the rare moments of kindness that had felt like sunlight. Or had they? Had Lucifer ever truly been kind? Or had Adam been a fool all along, misreading the disdain in those crimson eyes as something more?

Lucifer leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You were always just a pet, Adam. A pretty, obedient little thing.”

The realization struck Adam like a physical blow. He had looked up to Lucifer, adored him, loved him with a desperate, one-sided passion. But now, the truth was undeniable. He had been nothing to Lucifer. Nothing but a dog on a leash.

Lucifer’s laughter broke through his thoughts, loud and biting. “Don’t worry,” he sneered, stepping back and gesturing toward the red building at the centre of Pentagram City. “I’ll take you to the Emberley—our charming little meeting point between Heaven and Hell. After that, though, you’re on your own. Sera won’t let a sinner like you back in. You’re done.”

Adam said nothing. He followed Lucifer in silence, his wings dragging behind him, the weight of humiliation and heartbreak pressing down on his shoulders. The streets of Pentagram City were filled with jeering sinners, their sneers and laughter cutting into him like shards of glass. But Adam barely noticed. He was too numb to care.

Lucifer glanced back at him, a cruel smile curling his lips. “You’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you? No wonder you couldn’t keep a wife. Not that I blame her.”

The words were meant to hurt, but Adam didn’t flinch. He kept his gaze fixed on the Emberley’s doors, the only thing that stood between him and whatever awaited inside.

Lucifer followed his gaze, his smirk widening. “Good luck in there,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’ll need it. And just so you know—when you come out, you better get running. No one here is going to be kind enough to give you a head start.” He laughed harshly, the sound grating against Adam’s ears.

Adam’s hand trembled as he reached for the door.

Before he could open it, Lucifer’s clawed hand clamped down on his forearm, the searing heat of his touch making Adam wince. Lucifer leaned in close, his sharp-toothed grin gleaming in the dim light.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he purred, his voice low and taunting. “If you want to save your pathetic little life, if you really want my help…”

He paused, savouring the moment. “I’ll give it to you. In exchange for your soul, of course.”

Adam’s breath hitched, but he said nothing. He stared at Lucifer, his face unreadable, as the archangel chuckled darkly.

“Think about it,” Lucifer said, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. “Go on, pet. Your destiny awaits.”

Without another word, Adam turned the handle and stepped inside, his heart heavy with despair. Behind him, Lucifer’s laughter echoed like a cruel song, the sound following him into the darkness.

Adam’s steps faltered as the doors to the Emberley closed behind him, sealing him into the dim, suffocating space that seemed to hover on the edge of worlds. A strange, otherworldly hum filled the air, pressing against his skin like static. The golden light he had once associated with Heaven was faint here, weak and struggling against the blood-red glow that seeped in from Hell.

At the far end of the chamber stood Sera.

Adam’s breath caught at the sight of her. She was as radiant as ever, her six wings shimmering with divine brilliance. But there was no warmth in her presence now, no trace of the maternal kindness that had once cradled him in his darkest moments. Her expression was cold, her eyes piercing and unrelenting as they raked over him.

Adam felt his heart sink further, the weight of her gaze unbearable. He wanted to speak, to explain, but the words died in his throat. He didn’t know what to say.

Sera took a single step forward, the sound of her heel echoing sharply in the stillness. Her wings shifted behind her, their feathers gleaming like blades. When she spoke, her voice was sharp, devoid of the gentle cadence he had clung to in the past.

“Adam.”

The way she said his name made him flinch. It wasn’t the way she used to say it—soft and full of quiet pride. Now it was cold, distant, almost like an accusation.

“You’ve disgraced yourself,” she said, her tone cutting. “Look at you.”

Adam hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides. “I… I didn’t choose this,” he said softly, his voice trembling.

“No,” she snapped, her wings flaring slightly. “You chose to fail. You chose to fall.”

Her words struck like a whip, and Adam recoiled. He wanted to protest, to remind her of everything he had done for Heaven, everything he had sacrificed, but her gaze silenced him.

“You’re a sinner now,” Sera continued, her voice unyielding. “A creature of filth and corruption. Do you honestly think you can return to Heaven like this?”

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Adam stammered, his golden eyes filling with tears. “I tried, Sera. I did everything you asked. I gave everything I had—”

“And yet, it wasn’t enough,” she interrupted, her voice as sharp as glass.

“You failed. And now you wear the mark of your failure for all to see.” Her gaze flicked to the horns curling from his head, her lip curling in disgust.

Adam’s wings trembled, the once-glorious golden feathers sagging under the weight of her disdain. He felt the tears spill over, streaking his face as he fell to his knees before her.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, Sera. I’ll do anything. Just… let me come back. Let me prove myself again. I’ll work harder, I’ll—”

“No.”

The single word cut through him like a blade.

“There is no place for you in Heaven,” Sera said coldly. “You have fallen, Adam. You are no longer one of us.”

Her words crushed him, the weight of them stealing the breath from his lungs. He stared up at her, his vision blurred by tears.

“You said… you said I was your son,” he whispered. “You said you loved me.”

Sera’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, her disdain deepened.

 “I loved the Adam who was pure,” she said. “The Adam who obeyed. The Adam who belonged to Heaven. That Adam is gone.”

Adam’s chest heaved as a sob tore from him, raw and broken. He clutched at the hem of her glowing robe, desperate, pleading. “Please, Sera. I don’t have anyone else. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

She stepped back, pulling her robe from his grasp. “You made your choices, Adam. Now you must live with the consequences.”

Her words were final, her tone merciless.

Adam’s hands fell to his sides, trembling. He lowered his head, his tears dripping onto the cold, unyielding floor. The golden light that had once flickered in his chest felt dim now, as though it would extinguish entirely.

Sera turned away, her wings folding gracefully behind her.

“You will leave this place,” she said, her voice echoing through the chamber. “Do not return. You are no longer welcome.”

As she began to walk away, Adam reached out one last time, his voice barely a whisper. “Sera… please…”

She didn’t look back.

The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving Adam alone in the dim chamber. His sobs echoed around him, raw and desperate, but there was no one to hear them. No one to comfort him.

He was nothing now.

A sinner.

A failure.

As the last traces of Sera’s light vanished, Adam knelt in the darkness, his wings trembling and his heart shattered. The thought of Eden, of what he had lost, flickered weakly in his mind. But even that memory felt tainted now, distant and unreachable.

For the first time, Adam truly understood what it meant to be alone.

~#~

The door groaned as Adam pushed it open, stepping out into the suffocating, sulfureous air of Hell’s streets. The eerie red glow of the Emberley behind him cast long shadows on the cracked ground. For a fleeting moment, he dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—he could walk away unscathed. But then he saw them.

The sinners.

They were waiting.

Their twisted forms lurked in the shadows, their eyes gleaming with malice. Adam froze, his wings trembling behind him. He recognized some of them—souls he had been forced to slaughter in the name of Heaven, their faces twisted now with a hatred that seemed to pulse in the air around him.

“There he is,” one of them hissed, stepping forward with a jagged grin.

“The First Man,” another sneered. “Heaven’s golden boy turned to trash.”

Laughter erupted around him, sharp and cruel.

Adam stumbled back, his body already weary and broken, his golden wings sagging. The sinners closed in, their voices growing louder, more taunting.

“Pig.”

“Failure.”

“Couldn’t even keep a women.”

The words sliced through him, each one sharper than the last. Before he could react, one of them shoved him hard, and he fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Let’s see how much gold is left in those wings,” one snarled, grabbing a handful of his feathers and yanking.

Adam cried out as the sharp pain shot through him. They laughed louder, their hands tearing at his wings, ripping feathers out in clumps. The golden light that once shimmered in them dimmed as they shredded his dignity piece by piece.

"Look at him," one jeered. "The mighty Adam, grovelling in the dirt where he belongs."

Adam tried to stand, but they pushed him down again. His knees hit the ground, his body shaking. His mind screamed at him to run, to fight back, but he didn’t have the strength. He was too tired, too broken.

And then he saw him.

Lucifer.

The King of Hell lounged lazily against a jagged rock, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he watched the scene unfold. His smirk was slow and smug, a cruel twist of his lips that sent a chill through Adam’s battered frame.

Adam’s breath hitched. He knew what this was. Lucifer had told him, warned him, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Lucifer was waiting.

Waiting for him to break.

“Help me,” Adam rasped, his voice weak, barely audible over the sinners’ taunts.

Lucifer’s smirk widened.

“Help you?” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Oh, Adam. Why would I do that?”

Adam flinched as another sinner kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling. He looked up at Lucifer, his golden eyes swimming with desperation.

“Please,” he whispered. “You said… you said you’d help me.”

Lucifer tilted his head, his grin turning sharp. “I said I’d help you in exchange for your soul. Did you think charity was one of my virtues?”

The sinners laughed, their jeers growing louder. Adam’s hands clenched into fists against the dirt, his chest heaving. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to give Lucifer the satisfaction.

But he couldn’t take this anymore.

“Say it,” Lucifer purred, his voice a low, mocking croon. “Beg me. Prove to me how low you’re willing to go, Adam.”

Adam’s lips trembled. His pride, what little was left of it, screamed at him to hold on, to fight. But his body—bruised, battered, humiliated—couldn’t endure it anymore.

He fell forward, his forehead pressing into the dirt as tears streamed down his face. His voice was barely a whisper, choked with despair.

“Please… Lucifer. I… I give you my soul.”

The sinners froze, their laughter dying in the air. A heavy, suffocating silence fell over them.

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with triumph.

“Oh, Adam,” he murmured, his grin splitting wider. “Say it again. Louder this time.”

Adam’s shoulders shook as he forced the words out.

“I give you my soul,” he repeated, his voice breaking.

Lucifer’s laughter echoed through the space, cruel and victorious. He stepped forward, his black boots crunching against the dirt until he stood over Adam’s trembling form.

A golden collar materialized around Adam’s neck, glowing faintly before solidifying with an ominous snap. A heavy chain extended from it, leading up to Lucifer’s outstretched clawed hand.

Lucifer yanked the chain, forcing Adam to lift his head. The fallen man’s golden eyes were dull now, lifeless.

Lucifer’s grin was wicked as he pressed his boot onto the back of Adam’s head, shoving him back into the dirt. “I own you now,” he said, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.

He leaned down, his sharp teeth gleaming as he whispered into Adam’s ear. “You’re mine, body and soul. A dog on my leash. A pet.”

The chain rattled as Lucifer pulled it taut, laughing as Adam remained motionless beneath his boot.

“Welcome to Hell, Adam,” Lucifer said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’ll find it quite… accommodating.”

And as his laughter echoed, Adam closed his eyes, the last remnants of his hope shattering like glass.

~#~

The mansion was deathly quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed down on Adam’s chest and made his breathing feel shallow, uneven. Lucifer had left hours ago, his departure marked by a cruelly cheery announcement of his plans to visit his “precious little darling.” His voice still echoed in Adam’s head, mocking and sharp.

“I’d bring you along,” Lucifer had said, his grin wide and wicked, “but I think we both remember how well that went last time. Wouldn’t want another little incident with dear Maggie, now would we?”

‘Vaggie’ he would have said…

Adam had flinched at the memory. The cold rage in her eyes. The sharpness of her blade as it sliced too close.

And now, he was alone again.

The grand halls of Lucifer’s mansion, with their dark, gothic splendor, swallowed him whole. It was too large, too empty, and too suffocating all at once. Adam sat curled in a corner of one of the vast, echoing rooms. He pulled his knees to his chest, his golden wings drooping behind him.

Except… they weren’t quite golden anymore.

The once radiant feathers had dulled, the sheen long gone. They looked almost… tarnished. Adam tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about the way his own reflection in the polished floors didn’t quite look like him anymore.

His trembling hands hovered over the cold, flat patch of marble in front of him. There was no soil, no dirt, but there had never been a need for that before. Once, he could summon life itself from nothingness. In Eden, his hands had been a force of creation. Flowers, trees, lush green growth—they bloomed effortlessly at his touch.

He closed his eyes and focused. He could still feel the memory of it, the warmth that used to radiate from his palms, the way the ground would respond to him as though it loved him.

Adam’s breath hitched as he poured all of himself into the attempt. His fingers trembled, his body aching, but he didn’t stop.

Nothing.

The marble was cold and lifeless beneath his hands.

“Come on,” he whispered, his voice shaking. His golden eyes, dimmed and hollow, filled with desperation as he tried again.

Nothing.

“Please,” he choked out, his hands pressing harder against the ground. His tears began to fall, splashing onto the marble, but he didn’t care.

Still nothing.

Adam’s breath came in shallow gasps as his composure cracked, his chest tightening with the weight of failure. His whole body shook as he tried one more time, pouring every ounce of energy, every last scrap of hope he had left into the act.

Nothing.

His hands fell limp to his sides, his head bowing as a sob tore through him. The sound echoed in the empty room, raw and broken.

“I can’t… I can’t even grow a daisy,” he whispered, his voice cracking as more tears streamed down his face.

His shoulders shook as he curled into himself, his sobs coming harder and louder. It was too much. All of it. The humiliation, the pain, the loss. He had given up everything—everything—and this was all that was left. He couldn’t even find comfort in the one thing that had always brought him peace.

As the despair consumed him, his tanned skin began to change. It grew ashen, a sickly grey spreading across his body. The glow of his once-golden eyes dimmed further, flickering like a dying flame. Even the tips of his fingers, the hands that had once brought Eden to life, began to bruise, the vibrant warmth of creation replaced by cold, lifeless decay.

Adam buried his face in his hands, his muffled cries filling the room. He was breaking. The cracks in his spirit, the ones Lucifer had so carefully cultivated, finally split him open.

And still, no one came.

~#~

The mansion was silent, uncaring. The world around him had abandoned him, just as Heaven had, just as everyone had. Adam was alone. Utterly and completely alone.

And as his sobs echoed into the emptiness, he wondered if this was all he was destined to be now: a hollow, broken remnant of the man he once was.

The sound of crashing doors shattered the suffocating silence of Lucifer’s mansion. Adam, curled up in his corner, startled at the noise. His ashen skin, bruised fingertips, and dim eyes reflected the exhaustion in his soul. But his head lifted weakly as he heard a voice—bright, insistent, and filled with conviction.

“Enough, Dad! Enough hiding him away like this!”

It was Charlie.

She stormed into the room, her golden hair ablaze with determination, her fiery resolve lighting up the otherwise cold, oppressive halls. Behind her, Vaggie followed, clearly displeased, her sharp gaze darting to Adam and then back to Charlie. Lucifer appeared moments later, his expression an infuriating blend of amusement and exasperation.

“Charlie, my darling,” Lucifer drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “To what do I owe this… dramatic intrusion?”

Charlie ignored him, her bright crimson eyes landing on Adam. Her heart broke at the sight of him—this hunched, trembling man who seemed to be shrinking under her gaze. He looked nothing like the figure she had imagined, nothing like the stories she’d heard of the first man.

“Adam deserves a second chance,” she said firmly, turning to face her father.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh, does he now? And what exactly makes you think he’s worth it, my sweet girl?”

“Because I can’t claim to believe in redemption for sinners if I can’t even help the one person who’s already given up everything!” Charlie’s voice cracked, but her resolve didn’t waver. “He’s suffering, Dad. You’re letting him rot here, and for what? To make a point? To punish him?���

Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Punishment builds character.”

“Enough!” she shouted, surprising even herself. “He’s coming to the hotel. I’ll take responsibility. I’ll help him.”

“Charlie, no,” Vaggie interjected, stepping in front of her. “This is a terrible idea. He’s not like the others. He doesn’t belong there.”

“Exactly!” Lucifer chimed in, his grin widening. “Listen to your girlfriend, my dear. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

But Charlie wouldn’t budge. “How can I ask the sinners of Hell to trust me, to believe in redemption, if I turn my back on someone who needs it the most? Someone who’s already lost everything?”

The argument stretched on, voices rising and emotions flaring. Adam sat silently through it all, his head bowed, his hands limp in his lap. He didn’t dare look up, didn’t dare hope.

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, Lucifer threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Take him. But don’t come crying to me when this all blows up in your face.”

Vaggie glared at him but reluctantly grabbed Charlie’s arm, pulling her toward the door. “This is a mistake,” she muttered, her frustration palpable.

As they left, Lucifer’s jovial mask dropped. He crossed the room in a flash, his sharp claws digging into Adam’s arm as he hauled him to his feet.

“Listen closely,” Lucifer hissed, his voice low and venomous. “Charlotte sees something in you. Something good, apparently. She’s willing to give you a second chance. But if you screw this up, if you fail her, I will make your afterlife so much worse.”

Adam nodded mutely, his throat too tight to speak.

At first, Adam thought things might get better. Charlie greeted him warmly, trying her best to make him feel welcome. But the others weren’t so kind.

Husk, the bartender, sneered at him over the counter, his gravelly voice laced with disdain. “So, you’re the infamous Adam, huh? First man, biggest failure. Fitting.”

His words cut deep, wrapped in riddles that danced around outright cruelty but still hit their mark.

Angel Dust was worse, his jabs sharp and relentless. “What’s the matter, Goldilocks? Can’t hack it in Heaven, can’t hack it in Hell? Guess you’re just useless everywhere.” He laughed, his high-pitched cackle echoing in Adam’s ears.

Niffty, with her manic energy, would chase him through the halls with a knife, giggling as though it were all a game. “Come on, Mr. Perfect! Let’s see if you bleed gold!”

Cherri Bomb acted like the mean girl Adam had never encountered but somehow felt all too familiar. She whispered behind his back, her laughter ringing out with Angel Dust’s as she made snide comments.

And then there was Alastor, the Radio Demon. He didn’t need to say much; his presence alone was oppressive. But when he did speak, his words were cruelly calculated to strip Adam of what little dignity he had left.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he’d say, his grin sharp and sinister. “You’re a relic, a failure. A hollow shell of what you once were.”

Even Vaggie couldn’t hide her disdain, her glares cutting through him like knives.

Adam tried to find solace in the quiet moments, tried to use his ability to grow things. But no matter how hard he focused, nothing came. The dark bruises on his fingers spread further up his hands with each failed attempt. His once-bright golden wings grew duller, the light in his eyes fading into a murky haze.

He was crumbling, piece by piece.

~#~

One evening, after watching Adam retreat to his room for the third time that day, Charlie pulled Lucifer aside.

“Dad, what’s wrong with him?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed?” she pressed. “He’s different. His skin, his wings, his eyes—they’re all fading. He’s… he’s breaking, Dad.”

Lucifer frowned, his smirk faltering. He hadn’t noticed. Not really. He thought back but couldn’t recall when the change had started.

“Do you think I did something to him?” he asked, half-joking but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

Charlie’s frustration boiled over. “Maybe you should stop tormenting him for five minutes and actually look at him! He’s barely holding on.”

Lucifer waved her off, but the seed of doubt had been planted.

Later that night, Charlie gathered everyone in the main lounge.

“This stops now,” she said firmly, her voice carrying an authority they rarely heard from her. “The bullying, the mocking—all of it. Adam deserves better.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in. Adam, hiding in the shadows, didn’t dare hope that things might change. Not anymore.

The silence that followed Charlie’s declaration was thick and uneasy. For a brief moment, Adam thought perhaps the tide would turn, that the words of the princess of Hell might carry enough weight to protect him. But then came the pushback.

Angel Dust was the first to scoff, leaning back lazily on the couch, his legs draped over the armrest.

“Oh, come on, Charlie. You really wanna waste your time defending that?” He gestured toward Adam with a dramatic flourish. “Dude’s a total wet blanket. Can’t even take a joke.”

“Yeah,” Cherri Bomb chimed in, her tone dripping with derision. “It’s not our fault he’s such a buzzkill. He just… doesn’t belong here, Charlie. You’re trying to shove a square peg into a round hole.” She snickered, elbowing Angel, who laughed along with her.

Vaggie crossed her arms, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Charlie, you’re not seeing this clearly. He’s a liability. He doesn’t fit into this place, and he’s dragging everyone down. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment again.”

Niffty piped up, her voice sickeningly sweet but her words laced with venom. “Maybe he’d be happier somewhere else, princess. Somewhere far away.”

She giggled, the sound sending a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Husk grumbled from behind the bar, not even bothering to look up. “Kid’s not cut out for Hell. Or Heaven, apparently. Maybe he should just… I dunno, disappear.”

His words stung, their nonchalant delivery only making them more painful.

Even Alastor, who usually revelled in chaos, seemed unimpressed. His ever-present grin widened, but his tone was icy.

“Charlie, my dear, you’re fighting a losing battle. Redemption is your dream, yes? But some souls are simply too far gone.” He glanced at Adam with thinly veiled disdain. “This one is... cracked beyond repair.”

Charlie’s face fell as her friends, one by one, dismissed her plea. Her gaze turned to Lucifer, her last hope for backup.

“Dad?” she asked, her voice soft but pleading. “A little help here?”

Lucifer, lounging lazily in the corner with a glass of wine in hand, shrugged helplessly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Sorry, darling, but you know how stubborn they can be. And, well…” He gestured vaguely toward Adam. “They’re not entirely wrong.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed, her frustration bubbling over. She puffed out her chest, straightened her shoulders, and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice carried the kind of authority that made the room fall silent.

“I don’t care what any of you think,” she began, her crimson eyes blazing with resolve. “Adam has been through Hell—literally—and he’s still standing. He’s still trying. Do you have any idea how hard that is? After everything he’s lost, everything he’s been through, he hasn’t given up. That’s more than I can say for most of you!”

The room bristled at her words, but Charlie pressed on. “Angel, you came here because you wanted more than to just be some toy for people to use and discard. Cherri, you came here because you wanted to prove you were more than just destruction. Husk, you’re here because you’re tired of drowning your pain in booze. Vaggie, you’re here because you believe in me, in what we’re trying to do. And Alastor…”

She hesitated but forced herself to look him in the eye. “Even you came here because a part of you wanted to see if redemption was possible.”

Her gaze swept the room, daring anyone to interrupt. “How can we call ourselves a place of second chances if we’re not willing to give him one? How can I stand here and say I believe in redemption if I turn my back on someone who needs it the most?”

The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, it seemed like her words might have reached them. But then Vaggie shook her head, her expression hard.

“It’s not the same, Charlie. Adam’s not like us. He’s not one of us. He doesn’t belong here.”

Charlie’s heart sank, but she refused to back down. “He’s not one of you because none of you are giving him a chance to be. He’s trying, but you’re all too busy tearing him down to see it.”

Adam, huddled in the shadows, felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity: hope. But it was fragile, delicate, and he couldn’t bring himself to believe it would last.

Lucifer watched the scene unfold with mild amusement, swirling his wine in his glass.

“Well, Charlie,” he drawled, “if you’re so determined to play saviour, I won’t stop you. But don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

Charlie ignored him, her focus entirely on her friends. “This is my hotel, and I’m telling you all right now: the bullying stops. Adam is one of us now, whether you like it or not. And if you can’t accept that, then maybe you’re the ones who don’t belong here.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. One by one, the others looked away, grumbling but offering no further resistance. Charlie turned to Adam, her expression softening as she extended a hand toward him.

“Come on, Adam,” she said gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Adam hesitated, his dimmed golden eyes searching hers for any sign of deceit. But all he saw was sincerity, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope.

As he reached for her hand, Lucifer chuckled softly from the corner, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s see how long this lasts.”

~#~

Everyone was trying. Really trying. Adam could feel it. Husk would make small talk with him, Angel Dust would occasionally flash him a grin, and Niffty would clean around him with an overly bright smile. They were trying so hard to be nice to him, but Adam could tell it was all for Charlie’s sake. There was an air of forced politeness, a tightness in their voices and movements that Adam couldn’t ignore. It all felt... fake. Like the way a person tries to smile when they don’t really want to. He saw their relationships—the way Husk and Angel Dust seemed inseparable, the way Niffty gazed at Alastor with starstruck adoration, the way Alastor himself only seemed to genuinely smile when Niffty was near. And Charlie was the only person who could make Vaggie’s lips curl upward in a rare, hesitant smile.

But Adam saw through it all. They weren’t doing it because they wanted to. They were doing it because Charlie asked them to. Adam couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. It reminded him of the angels back in Heaven, how they’d always been kind to him, but only because it was expected of them. They never really cared.

And then, Adam thought of Lucifer. Eden. The way Lucifer had never really liked him, not the way Adam had wanted, the way he had convinced himself he could be loved. It hurt. The realization stabbed at him, deep and brutal. Lucifer never cared. He had been just as fake as the others. And that... hurt the most. Adam’s hands trembled as he realized, more clearly than ever before, that he had wished for something that had never been there. A lie he had told himself in Eden, that he could be loved. A part of him still wished for it—just one person, anyone, to truly like him.

Adam pulled his knees to his chest, huddling in a corner of the empty hotel. He clenched his fists, forcing all his energy into his hands. If he could just make something—anything—grow, maybe he’d feel better. A flower. Just one. But nothing happened. Nothing at all. His shoulders slumped as the weight of failure pressed down on him. He closed his eyes, feeling the coldness seep deeper into his bones.

 What was the point?

A voice broke the silence, cutting through his thoughts.

“What are you doing?” it asked, low and unexpectedly curious.

Adam jerked in surprise, his heart leaping as he quickly looked up. Lucifer was standing there, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes fixed on him. There was no cruel smirk, no mocking stare—just genuine curiosity in those fiery eyes. Adam’s breath hitched as Lucifer crouched beside him, inspecting the ground with a frown.

“If you're damaging Charlie's hotel,” Lucifer added, raising an eyebrow, “I won’t be happy.”

Adam swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I’m not,” he muttered, voice small. “I wasn’t—”

Lucifer’s eyes stayed on him, his expression still soft. “Then what are you doing?”

Adam hesitated, his gaze falling back to the empty space in front of him. “I... I was trying to grow a daisy,” he said quietly, the words feeling hollow and stupid as they left his mouth.

Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What?”

Adam sighed deeply, the weight of everything pressing in on him. His wings fluttered weakly behind him, their gold dimming, almost silver in the fading light.

“Back when I was in Heaven... I could grow things,” he explained, his voice breaking just slightly. “Things from Eden... and they always made me feel better…when I was sad I mean. Like... like I was still part of it, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t speak for a moment, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Adam glanced up, catching a flicker of something soft in Lucifer’s gaze—something almost... tender. Adam flushed, suddenly embarrassed by his vulnerability.

“If you're just gonna make fun of me, just do it already.”

Lucifer opened his mouth, but instead of ridicule, he closed it again, shaking his head slowly.

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’m just... surprised.”

Adam’s face twisted with confusion. “Why? Because I’m not worthy enough for nature to like me either?”

Lucifer looked taken aback, his gaze softening. “What? No. That’s not what I mean at all.”

He hesitated, then sighed, a deep, almost nostalgic sound. “Look, Adam... I get it. Okay? I miss Eden too.”

Adam blinked, surprised by the admission. Lucifer, of all people, missing Eden? “You do?”

Lucifer nodded, his eyes briefly distant as if remembering something painful. “Every day. I still dream about it sometimes. The way the trees... the way everything felt. Alive. Like nothing could touch it.” He glanced at Adam again, his voice quieter now. “I never could make things grow like you could. I used to try... but it didn’t work for me. I was always just a little... too far gone.”

Adam’s heart gave a painful lurch. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Lucifer—King of Hell, the fallen angel who had ruled over so many—admitting he missed Eden, admitting that he couldn’t do what Adam could? It was a side of Lucifer Adam had never seen, and it left him at a loss for words.

Lucifer’s eyes softened, and there was a quiet, almost hesitant energy between them. “Look, Adam...”

Lucifer trailed off, his voice laced with something close to sincerity. “I’m sorry for all of it. The way things have gone... it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Adam looked up at him, still processing his words. “You... you really miss it?”

Lucifer’s expression tightened for a brief second, but it quickly relaxed as he gave a small, wry smile. “Yeah. I miss it. A lot.”

Adam blinked, his tired eyes fixed on Lucifer as the King of Hell rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, exposing his pale arm adorned with faint scars and tattoos that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. Lucifer smirked faintly, though it lacked his usual malice. There was an unusual softness in his expression, almost a flicker of nostalgia that Adam hadn’t seen before.

“Watch this,” Lucifer said, his voice low but not unkind.

His sharp claws extended, and with a graceful motion, he dragged them through the air above the ground. Gold light sparked and swirled from his fingertips, pooling into the floor like liquid sunlight. The energy pulsed, then shimmered before something began to rise from the cracks in the floorboards.

At first, Adam’s heart jumped. The glow was reminiscent of Eden—golden vines, delicate petals, and the pure vitality of the paradise he’d once known. But as the plants fully emerged, his expression twisted into a mix of awe and horror.

The flowers were... wrong. They had teeth—sharp, jagged ones that snapped aggressively. Their petals curled in unnatural spirals, and their vines writhed like snakes. One particularly bold flower lunged forward, its snapping maw aimed directly at Adam’s face.

Adam yelped, stumbling backward just as Lucifer’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder and yanking him out of the way.

“Whoa, careful!” Lucifer exclaimed, his grin spreading as he moved a clawed hand to restrain the offending plant. The flower hissed—actually hissed—before retreating, sulking back into the ground.

For a moment, there was silence between them. Then, unexpectedly, Lucifer started to laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed through the quiet hallway. It wasn’t mocking or cruel; it was warm, almost boyish in its condor. Adam stared at him, wide-eyed, before a reluctant chuckle escaped his lips. Soon, the two of them were laughing together, the absurdity of the situation washing over them like a tide.

“Well, that’s new,” Adam muttered, brushing himself off as his laughter died down into soft chuckles.

Lucifer’s smirk lingered, but there was something different about it now—something less guarded.

“Yeah, not exactly Eden, huh?” he said, gesturing at the chaotic plants that were slowly retreating back into the floor. “It’s... a work in progress.”

Adam hesitated, still processing what he’d seen.

“Wait,” he said quietly, looking at Lucifer with an unreadable expression. “You mean to tell me... you’ve been trying to grow things, too?”

Lucifer glanced at him, the sharpness in his gaze softening ever so slightly.

“Of course I have,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. “Do you think I’ve forgotten what Eden felt like? The smell of the air, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees? The way it... made you feel alive, like you belonged?”

His voice faltered, just for a moment, before he continued. “I dream about it sometimes. About being there again.”

Adam blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that level of vulnerability from Lucifer. “You miss it,” he said softly, more to himself than to Lucifer.

Lucifer chuckled dryly, his gaze distant. “Miss it? Adam, I ache for it. Every damn day. I don’t care how many eons pass—I’ll never stop craving what I lost.”

He glanced down at his clawed hand, flexing his fingers. “But Eden doesn’t want me anymore. I can try to grow things, but... well, you saw the results.”

Adam’s brow furrowed as he watched Lucifer, his own sense of loneliness momentarily overshadowed by an odd sense of understanding. “I didn’t know,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere. “I thought... you were just okay with all of this. That you didn’t care.”

Lucifer snorted, a hint of his usual arrogance creeping back into his expression. “Oh, I care. But caring doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never step foot in Eden again.”

He tilted his head, studying Adam. “What about you? Do you still dream about it?”

Adam swallowed hard, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Every night…I used to take comfort in it. Growing things, I mean. It made me feel... closer to it. Like I hadn’t lost everything.”

He looked down, his voice trembling slightly. “But now... I can’t even do that anymore…”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on Adam, and for once, there was no mockery in his eyes—just something akin to understanding. He reached out, placing a clawed hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“You’re not the only one,” he said softly, his tone carrying a weight that Adam hadn’t heard before.

Adam looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a small flicker of warmth—like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely alone.

Lucifer smirked again, though it was softer this time.

“Don’t get used to this,” he teased, his tone light. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Adam chuckled weakly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they sat there, the tension between them seemed to ease, if only for a moment. For the first time, Adam felt like he wasn’t just a pawn in someone else’s game. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

~#~

As the days turned into weeks, the small moments between Adam and Lucifer began to feel like something more, something real. Adam had always known that Lucifer was dangerous, unpredictable, and cruel. But lately, Lucifer’s presence seemed to carry a different weight. A weight that wasn’t just about power or dominance, but something deeper, something more complex. It was as if, little by little, Lucifer was thawing—letting himself soften around Adam in ways he hadn’t with anyone in centuries.

Adam could feel it, too. Though he was still struggling to grow anything, despite his best efforts, there was a shift inside him. He no longer felt as desperate. Instead of the crushing disappointment he would have felt before, when his powers refused to work, there was a quiet acceptance. A sort of understanding that maybe the things that had once come so easily to him were no longer in his grasp—but that didn’t mean he was without value. Not anymore. And that was something he had Lucifer to thank for.

One evening, after another failed attempt at coaxing life from the barren earth beneath him, Adam slumped to the ground in frustration. His hands were covered in dirt, his wings drooping heavily behind him. He had been trying to grow a single flower—just one—but it seemed as though the magic that had once flowed through him so easily was slipping further away each day. He was just about to give up when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

A small yellow rubber duck sat in the dirt, perfectly positioned in his line of sight.

Adam blinked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. He hadn’t seen it before—hadn’t noticed it anywhere nearby. But there it was, so innocently placed, as if it had appeared just for him. His first instinct was to laugh, a soft, bewildered chuckle escaping his lips. It was such a random, out-of-place object to find in the midst of his failure. But somehow, it didn’t seem out of place at all. It felt... comforting. Like it was meant to be there.

Before he could contemplate the oddity too much, he heard a voice, low and teasing.

“What’s this? A rubber duck in a garden of death?” Lucifer’s voice carried a hint of amusement, but there was something else beneath it. Curiosity, maybe.

Adam looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I... I don’t know. It just appeared, like magic.”

He picked it up, turning it over in his hands as if it might somehow hold the answers he was searching for.

Lucifer crouched down beside him, his golden eyes gleaming in the dimming light of the evening. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Adam’s forehead—a surprisingly gentle gesture.

“Seems like someone has a little sense of humor,” Lucifer mused, his voice softer than Adam was used to hearing. He was staring at the duck with an odd fondness, almost as though it reminded him of something—or someone—long ago.

“You’ve been trying to grow things, haven’t you?” he asked, his tone more careful than usual.

Adam nodded, his fingers tightening around the rubber duck. He didn’t want to admit how much it had been weighing on him lately—not just the inability to use his powers, but the ache of knowing that something so fundamental to who he was seemed lost to him now.

“I’ve been trying,” Adam said quietly. “But... nothing works. It’s like I’ve forgotten how.”

Lucifer’s expression shifted. He tilted his head, watching Adam with a quiet intensity. “You haven’t forgotten, Adam. Sometimes, things just take longer than we want them to.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Maybe you’re not meant to grow flowers right now. Maybe... maybe you’re meant to grow something else.”

Adam didn’t answer right away. The words lingered, reverberating in his mind. He hadn’t considered that—hadn’t thought that maybe this struggle was part of something bigger than just his powers. Maybe it was something about him, about his journey, that he hadn’t yet understood.

But instead of letting his mind spiral into doubt and frustration, Adam found himself simply appreciating the moment. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t completely alone. The duck, the conversation—everything about it felt... small, but important.

Lucifer, noticing the shift in Adam’s demeanor, smiled faintly. It wasn’t a mocking smile, but something more real, something softer than Adam had ever expected from the King of Hell.

“I know it’s not easy,” Lucifer said, his voice quiet now, almost tender. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost something? That you’re the only one who’s struggling?” He paused. “I miss Eden, too. I miss what I used to be. But we’re here now. And... maybe that’s enough.”

Adam glanced at Lucifer, surprise flickering in his eyes. For a moment, their gazes locked, and Adam saw something in Lucifer’s eyes—a kind of sadness, a rawness that mirrored his own. It was fleeting, but it was there. And in that moment, Adam realized just how much they had in common. How much they both carried, how much they both missed.

“Maybe,” Adam murmured, his voice soft. “Maybe we’re both just trying to figure out how to be... okay.”

Lucifer didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his tone was uncharacteristically warm. “Maybe you’re right.”

They sat there for a while, neither of them speaking. Lucifer leaned against the tree, and Adam cradled the rubber duck in his hands, staring at it like it held the key to something he couldn’t yet understand. It was a small, silly thing—but to Adam, it felt like a symbol of hope.

As the silence stretched on, Lucifer shifted, his wings rustling slightly as he stood up. He offered a hand to Adam, who took it after a moment, letting Lucifer help him to his feet. It wasn’t the sharp, commanding gesture Adam had expected. Instead, it was gentle, steady.

“You’re doing alright,” Lucifer said, his voice quieter than usual. “Better than I thought you would.”

Adam met his gaze, surprise and something else—something warmer—flickering inside him. For a moment, he wasn’t the fallen angel. He wasn’t the broken soul who had failed. He was just Adam. And in that moment, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he had thought.

Lucifer gave him a small, genuine smile—nothing grand, but it felt like a small victory. Adam smiled back, feeling something inside him soften, just a little. Maybe this was the start of something new. Maybe, for the first time, he wasn’t just clinging to the past. He was building something for the future.

And that felt like enough.

~#~

As the days passed, the connection between Lucifer and Adam deepened in ways neither of them had anticipated. It started with little things—small conversations, stolen glances, moments where their laughter rang out in sync. They were bonding in a way that felt more intimate than either had expected. What had begun as a slow thawing of walls soon became something more. Something that neither could quite name, but both felt.

Lucifer was not often one to show vulnerability, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor when he was with Adam. It wasn’t just about the playful jabs or the moments of sarcasm; it was the way he listened, how he’d catch Adam’s eye just a little longer than necessary, or how his voice would soften when speaking to him. His presence felt more than just a force of power—he felt, for the first time in centuries, like a person. And that person... cared about Adam. In ways that both scared and thrilled him.

Adam, on the other hand, was far more cautious. The walls he had spent so long building were cracking, and with each passing day, he felt them crumble further. He would catch himself in moments of quiet, just staring at Lucifer, his thoughts wandering to places he didn’t dare to go. But every time, he pulled back. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—let himself fall again. Not after everything that had happened. Not after Eden.

He had loved Lucifer once, in a way that was pure and innocent. But now? Now, it was complicated. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—it was still there, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t forget what had happened in Eden, how Lucifer had cast him aside, how everything had changed. The love he had felt had turned to dust, a painful reminder of a time long gone.

Yet, despite all the distance Adam tried to put between them, despite the walls he erected in his heart, he couldn’t help but feel the pull when Lucifer was near. Lucifer’s smile, the way his eyes softened when they met Adam’s, the quiet moments when they’d sit together in silence—those things still made Adam’s heart ache. But each time, he pushed those feelings down. He couldn’t allow himself to fall back into that. Not again.

One evening, as the two of them sat in a dimly lit corner of the mansion, Lucifer was telling one of his stories. His voice was smooth, effortless, but Adam found his thoughts drifting. The warmth in Lucifer’s words, the way his eyes seemed to shine as he spoke—it was hard not to feel something. But Adam quickly snapped himself out of it, forcing his attention back to the conversation.

Lucifer glanced over at him, his eyes searching Adam’s face as if trying to read something beneath the surface.

“What’s on your mind, Adam?” Lucifer asked, his voice quieter than usual. There was an edge of concern in it, a softness that Adam wasn’t used to hearing.

Adam flinched slightly, caught off guard. He shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing. Just... lost in thought.”

Lucifer didn’t seem convinced. He leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving Adam. “You know, you don’t have to lie to me. Not anymore.”

Adam’s chest tightened, a pang of guilt washing over him. He didn’t want to let Lucifer see him like this, didn’t want to let him know how much he still felt. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m not lying,” Adam said, his voice strained. “I’m fine.”

Lucifer didn’t buy it. His eyes narrowed, but instead of pressing further, he simply nodded, though there was something unreadable in his expression. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he studied Adam.

Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucifer could see right through him—that, maybe, Lucifer could see the part of him he was trying so hard to hide. The part of him that still wanted to reach out. The part of him that still cared.

But the fear was there, too—the fear of getting hurt again, of being abandoned. The fear of giving his heart to Lucifer and having it torn to shreds once more.

A silence stretched between them, but it was a comfortable one—unlike the awkward pauses that used to fill the room when they first started spending time together. It was as if they had both accepted that there was something unsaid, something lingering, but neither wanted to push it. At least, not yet.

After a while, Adam stood up, feeling the weight of his thoughts press down on him. He couldn’t stay there, not with Lucifer watching him like that. He needed to be alone. He had to clear his head, to stop this cycle of feelings from taking hold of him.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” Adam said, his voice low as he turned away, his wings brushing against the air.

Lucifer didn’t stop him, though Adam could feel the King’s gaze following him as he walked toward the door. He wasn’t sure if it was concern or something else, but either way, he couldn’t bear to be around Lucifer right now. Not when the temptation to give in to those feelings was so strong.

As Adam stepped out into the cold night air, he tried to push everything aside. The ache in his chest, the longing for something he wasn’t sure he should have, the fear of falling into something that could never work. But as he walked down the garden path, something caught his eye.

A single flower, blooming impossibly in the cold, dark soil.

Adam stopped, staring at it, his breath catching in his throat. It was small, delicate, but it was real. A real flower, growing against all odds. For a moment, he just stood there, mesmerized by its simple beauty. And then he realized—he hadn’t planted it. It had just appeared.

His hand shook as he reached down, gently brushing his fingers against the petals. It was a sign. A sign of hope, maybe. A sign that, just like the flower, there was still something inside him that could grow, something that wasn’t broken beyond repair.

But as he stood there, his mind wandered back to Lucifer. Back to those soft smiles, those fleeting moments of kindness, and the way Lucifer looked at him sometimes, as though he was seeing something Adam had long since buried.

It was almost too much.

Adam closed his eyes, willing the thoughts away. But it was too late. He couldn’t stop it anymore.

He wanted Lucifer. In a way that scared him, in a way that he couldn’t deny. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that. Not yet.

When he returned to the mansion, he found Lucifer sitting near the window, his eyes distant but his posture relaxed. Lucifer didn’t look up when Adam entered, but he spoke anyway.

“You didn’t have to go,” Lucifer said, his voice quiet, almost knowing. “You’re not alone, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

Adam froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to lean into the warmth of Lucifer’s words and let himself fall. But something in him still held back, still fought against it.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just... I needed some space,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the lie hung heavily between them.

Lucifer didn’t push. He just nodded, and for a long moment, they stood in silence, two souls adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Adam didn’t know what to do, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t keep pretending that he didn’t feel what he did. And that terrified him more than anything else.

~#~

Adam sat across from Charlie in her bright, sun-filled office, the soft hum of her voice buzzing in the background as she spoke with enthusiasm. Her words were warm and encouraging, and her eyes shone with pride as she talked about his progress. Adam forced a smile, nodding occasionally to acknowledge her, but inside, his mind was elsewhere—far from the cheerful praise she was showering on him.

Charlie was talking about how much he’d improved since arriving at the hotel. How he’d taken to his tasks, how he had made an effort to change. She spoke of how proud she was of his work around the hotel, how the guests and staff had noticed the difference in him, how much more comfortable he seemed.

"Adam, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see the growth you’ve shown! You’ve really come so far. It’s honestly incredible! The way you’ve been helping with the garden, the little touches around the hotel, your willingness to pitch in… it’s all so amazing." Charlie’s voice was full of genuine excitement as she gestured toward the door, as if everything about Adam’s presence in the hotel was a small victory.

Adam’s gaze shifted to the window, his mind drifting off again, away from her words. He wasn’t listening fully. Not really. His thoughts were tangled up in a storm of emotions, spinning around a singular, complicated person—Lucifer.

Every time he caught himself thinking about Lucifer, a knot twisted in his chest. The warmth, the care, the way Lucifer’s touch lingered in his memory, always accompanied by that cruel smirk that had once sent him spiraling. But now—now, it was different. There were moments when Lucifer's eyes softened, when his tone was gentler, when Adam felt like maybe... maybe Lucifer wasn’t just toying with him. Maybe there was something there, something real.

But then the fear would set in. Adam wasn’t sure he could go through that kind of pain again. Loving Lucifer had once been his everything, and when that love had been ripped away in Eden, it had broken him in ways he wasn’t sure he could ever repair. To love him again, to feel that warmth, would mean trusting him all over again. And trusting Lucifer had never ended well before.

Lost in his thoughts, Adam absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the silver feathers along his wings. He frowned. When had they changed?

The golden feathers, the radiant glow that used to shine so brightly, were gone. Replaced by the dull, muted sheen of silver. He hadn’t noticed until now, but the transformation seemed so subtle that it made him wonder: when had his wings shifted? And when had they become... so lifeless?

"Adam? Adam, are you listening?" Charlie's voice broke through the haze of his thoughts, and he blinked, trying to refocus on her.

"Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head slightly. "I—I was just thinking."

Charlie smiled, oblivious to the storm brewing behind his eyes. "That’s okay! I just wanted to make sure you know how proud I am of you. You’ve really come a long way, and I think—"

Her expression softened, and she placed her hands on the desk, leaning forward as her eyes sparkled. "I think there’s so much potential in you. You're really making a difference here, Adam. I’m so happy to see you improving."

Her voice was full of warmth, full of sincerity, and it made his chest tighten. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for how little he truly felt like he was progressing. Charlie saw him as someone who was moving forward, growing into a new version of himself, but Adam didn’t feel that. He didn’t feel like he was growing—at least not in the way she thought.

The silence between them stretched out longer than it should have, and Adam was finally forced to pull himself from the depths of his thoughts. He gave her a small, strained smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Thanks, Charlie. I... appreciate it."

Charlie’s smile widened, oblivious to the turmoil brewing beneath Adam’s surface. "Of course! You’ve worked so hard, Adam. I just want you to know how proud I am, and I really believe you have what it takes to make it here. You’re doing great."

Adam’s fingers twitched, and for a moment, he felt the urge to flee. He wanted to be anywhere but here, sitting across from Charlie, hearing the things he knew he should feel grateful for but couldn’t. There was something missing, something that he couldn’t quite put into words.

"Yeah, I’m trying my best." Adam said quietly, his voice almost distant as he stared at his hands, fingers trembling ever so slightly. They were bruised from the constant use, worn from trying and failing to do what he once could do so effortlessly.

But the truth was, he wasn’t just trying his best to improve at the hotel. He was trying his best to hold it together, to pretend that everything was fine. That the silver feathers on his wings didn’t feel like a symbol of everything he had lost. That the distance between him and the one person he wanted most didn’t tear him apart a little more each day.

Charlie’s voice brought him back once more. "You know, I’m so glad you’re here, Adam. It’s like you’re meant to be a part of this place."

She paused, tilting her head slightly. "You just have to believe in yourself a little more. I know you’re capable of amazing things, Adam."

Adam nodded, the words swirling in his head as his heart grew heavier with each passing second. He wanted to believe her. He really did. He wanted to believe that the person he used to be—that the person who had been capable of bringing life and beauty to the world—wasn’t gone for good. But when he tried to reach for that part of himself, it felt like something was missing, like the wings that had once been so full of light were now tarnished, just like the man who wore them.

"I’ll try," he said, his voice quiet, almost defeated.

Charlie beamed at him, clearly satisfied with his response. She didn’t know how much those words hurt, how much the hope she gave him only seemed to highlight how far he’d fallen.

But Charlie didn’t see that. She didn’t know the secret ache he carried inside. She couldn’t see the loneliness in his eyes, nor the way his heart longed for something that felt unreachable.

As Charlie continued to talk, her voice a steady stream of praise and encouragement, Adam’s mind wandered once more. But this time, instead of focusing on his failures, his mind drifted to Lucifer—the one person who had always been there, and yet, had never truly been there for him. A bittersweet yearning tugged at him, pulling him toward the man whose presence both comforted and terrified him.

The only question was: Was Lucifer just as lost as he was?

~#~

Later, Adam stood in the garden of the hotel, his eyes tracing the edges of the flowers, watching them flutter in the breeze. He couldn’t grow anything. Not even the simplest flower. His fingers twitched, but the soil remained untouched by any kind of magic. The golden light of his wings had dimmed so much over the weeks. It seemed like he was fading. He hated this feeling—the sense of helplessness, the constant reminder of what he'd lost. And all he wanted was to escape into the solace of his thoughts, to forget about everything around him. But no matter how hard he tried, Lucifer was always in the back of his mind.

Just as he was about to turn and retreat inside, a voice cut through the air, smooth and almost too calm. "You’re always running away from something, aren’t you?"

Adam stiffened, recognizing the voice immediately. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He was used to the sound of Lucifer’s footsteps, the way they echoed in the quiet of the hotel’s garden, the air thick with tension every time they crossed paths.

Adam swallowed hard and slowly turned around, his pulse quickening despite himself. Lucifer was standing by the stone archway that framed the garden, the faintest of smirks playing at the corners of his lips. His red eyes glinted in the pale moonlight, his presence all-encompassing. The way he looked at Adam sent a shiver down his spine.

"What do you want?" Adam muttered, his voice not quite steady. He was trying so hard to keep his emotions in check, to keep things from spiraling.

Lucifer stepped closer, the air around him crackling with something dangerous and enticing. "I want a lot of things, Adam. But tonight... I want you to stop running from me."

Adam's heart skipped a beat. He knew what Lucifer meant. He wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t blind to the moments they shared—those moments when their gazes lingered too long, when their words were layered with something unspoken. But Adam didn’t know how to deal with it. He couldn’t. Not again. He had already given up so much of himself in the past, and he wasn’t sure he could survive losing himself to Lucifer once more.

Lucifer took another step forward, and Adam’s breath hitched. "Why do you keep avoiding this?" Lucifer’s voice was low, almost like a whisper meant only for Adam. "You’ve been pushing me away, and I don’t understand why. You think I don’t know what’s happening between us?"

Adam felt a pang in his chest, something between hope and fear. His heart was fighting against the pull of Lucifer’s words. It would be so easy to fall back into what they once were. It would be so easy to let Lucifer back in, to let him take all of Adam’s pieces and make them whole again. But there was too much pain, too many memories of betrayal.

“I’m not… I’m not running from you,” Adam said, though his voice cracked slightly, betraying the lie.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, as if he’d heard the lie for what it was. "Really?"

He was close now, close enough that Adam could feel the heat of Lucifer’s presence, the magnetic pull of his aura. "Then why is it, every time I look at you, I see that little flicker of hesitation? Why is it, when I reach out to you, you flinch?"

Adam took a step back, trying to put distance between them, but Lucifer moved faster, catching his wrist in a vice-like grip before he could even process the movement. Adam’s pulse thudded loudly in his ears, his breath coming faster, his body reacting against his will.

"Lucifer..." Adam breathed, but his words felt hollow.

Lucifer’s gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a split second before his face hardened once more. He leaned down, his lips dangerously close to Adam’s ear.

"I can feel it too, you know. You think I don’t see how you look at me, how you still care?" His voice was a low rumble.

"I’ve waited, Adam. I’ve waited long enough."

Before Adam could react, Lucifer pressed his lips to Adam’s, a slow, deliberate kiss that sent a shock of electricity through Adam’s body. It wasn’t desperate, not frantic, but it was heavy with years of longing. And it made Adam’s heart race, made the walls around him tremble and crack.

For a moment, Adam was frozen, caught in the undeniable heat of it, caught in the magnetic pull of Lucifer’s touch, the way his lips seemed to claim him. He had never experienced anything like it before—the weight of it, the depth, the rawness of it.

But then reality crashed back, and Adam pulled away, his body reacting instinctively. His hands shoved against Lucifer’s chest, pushing him away as he gasped for air, panic flooding him.

“No, no, no,” Adam whispered, his voice frantic. "I can’t... I can’t do this again, Lucifer."

Lucifer didn’t step back immediately. His gaze was intense, filled with something Adam couldn’t fully read—frustration, maybe, but also a twisted kind of satisfaction. "Why?" Lucifer asked, his voice soft, but the undercurrent of hurt was clear. "Why do you keep rejecting me? Why can’t you just let go, Adam? You don’t have to be alone anymore."

"I’m not... I’m not the person you think I am," Adam said, shaking his head violently. His wings fluttered, the silver feathers brushing against his back as he took another step back, away from Lucifer. "You don’t understand. I don’t want this."

Lucifer finally stepped back, his eyes darkening, but there was no anger in them—only quiet, haunting patience.

"I understand more than you think, Adam. And I’m not going anywhere."

Adam’s breath was shaky, his heart pounding, but he couldn’t look away from Lucifer’s piercing gaze. He wanted to stay, wanted to let it happen, to let himself be loved, to feel the warmth of it again. But he couldn’t. Not like this. Not when the scars were still so fresh.

Without another word, Adam turned and fled, his wings flapping desperately behind him as he ran into the hotel, his heart torn in two.

He didn’t know how to love Lucifer again. Not yet. And he wasn’t sure he ever would.

~#~

Lucifer threw himself onto the couch in Charlie’s office with a dramatic sigh, stretching out his long limbs and letting his head flop backward. The couch creaked beneath him as he stared up at the ceiling, his wings flaring out behind him.

“Dad,” Charlie muttered without looking up from her paperwork. “What are you doing here? This is my office, you know. Serious professionalism happens in here.”

Lucifer gasped as if she had just insulted him.

“This is serious, Charlie!” he insisted, his voice filled with mock indignation. “I need your advice.”

Charlie rolled her eyes but set down her pen, leaning back in her chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. What’s going on now?”

Lucifer didn’t hesitate, his voice faltering slightly as he spoke. “I’m... trying with Adam.” He winced as the words left his mouth. “I think he likes me. I mean, I know he does... but he keeps rejecting me.”

Charlie’s brow furrowed, her gaze shifting from her desk to Lucifer, who was now dramatically sulking on the couch. “Wait. Hold on.”

She leaned forward, the chair creaking slightly. “You're upset because Adam keeps rejecting your advances?”

Lucifer nodded solemnly, his usually confident demeanor slipping just a little.

“Exactly,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and genuine confusion. “I don’t get it, Charlie. I’m trying to be patient with him. I’m making an effort, but it’s like... nothing’s working.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, tapping her fingers against the desk thoughtfully.

“Dad...” she started, a small, almost playful smirk creeping onto her face. “You do realize you haven’t exactly been the nicest to him, right?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”

He sat up on the couch, looking at her with furrowed brows. “I’ve been trying to change, okay? I’m being patient! I’m not the same person I was in Eden!”

Charlie folded her arms across her chest, giving him a knowing look. “You’ve made progress, sure. But that doesn’t erase everything that’s happened between you two. You can't just expect him to suddenly be okay with everything after all the things you did to him.”

"I...what?" Lucifer breathed out.

"I don't know what happened between you, Adam and Mum, but I can tell Adam got the short end of the stick." Charlie accussed. "And you haven't been nice about it at all. You've been down right mean."

Lucifer’s expression faltered for a moment, and he slouched back into the couch. His eyes dropped, as if the weight of her words hit him harder than he’d expected.

“I didn’t mean for things to get this way. I never wanted to hurt him... But I’m trying now. I really am.”

Charlie sighed, her voice softening as she leaned back in her chair. “I know you’re trying, but Adam... he’s been hurt. A lot. He can’t just flip a switch and forget everything you’ve done.”

Lucifer was silent for a long moment, looking down at his clawed hands, his fingers twitching slightly. “I don’t know how to make it right, Charlie. I don’t know how to get through to him.”

Charlie looked at him with a mix of frustration and sympathy, her eyes locking onto his. “Maybe you need to start by showing him that you’re really, truly sorry. That you’re not just doing this because you want something from him, but because you care about him. You have to earn his trust again, Dad. It’s not going to happen overnight.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened as he slowly nodded. “I don’t want to hurt him anymore, Charlie. I don’t want him to keep rejecting me... but maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to earn his trust first.”

Charlie gave a small, approving smile, before turning back to her desk. “Well, there you go. It’s going to take time, but if you really care about him, you’ll make it work. Just don’t expect it to be easy.”

Lucifer leaned back on the couch, his arms folded behind his head. For the first time in a while, his mind wasn’t consumed with anger or pride. Instead, he found himself deep in thought about Adam, about how to show him the truth of his feelings—how to prove to him that he was truly trying to be a better person.

“I’ll make it right, Charlie,” Lucifer muttered, his voice filled with resolve. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

[neallo]

a non-exhaustive list of my personal favorite mello/near fics posted in the year of our lord 2024. complete fics only; maximum one rec per author. this means many of these writers have more gems to offer for mellonear and/or other ships; in more than one case, it was challenging for me to select only one. i highly encourage readers to poke around and read, kudos, and comment to their heart's content <3

click here to see the AO3 collection with my notes!

Archistrategos by veresova (@veresova) M/M | 4,328 words

Mello has several things protecting him: a name, a group of saints, animal instincts, and Near’s maniacal faith.

King and Two Spades by AngelEllipsis (@read-watch-sleep) M/M | 4,793 words

Near finds a discrepancy in the organ failure statistics this year. 0.7% of unaccounted for heart attacks. No one has noticed yet. No one will notice, if his heart give out, too.

the roof by lightningblade (@lightningblade) M/M | 3,692 words

“Not enjoying the party?” he asks, making Near jump in surprise. He clears his throat and tries to look back at his textbook. “Um, not really. I don’t go to those.” “Right,” the other boy chuckles. “Why would you when you have this depressing ass roof space to hang out on?” -or- Near and Mello fall in love with the help of a rooftop, a rusty lawn chair, and some sweet ass origami skills.

And The Starlight Blooms by tsukinousagi (@quicktimeeventfull) M/F | 1,919 words

In which Near attends the concert of her favourite Kpop idol, Misa-Misa of Love:NOTE. She likes the bed. It’s got everything she or anyone else could want. Her phone. Her laptop. Several stuffed animals. A Lego kit, half-finished at the foot of the bed. A sleeve of ginger nuts sealed with an elastic band. Several bottles of water, one of which still has liquid in it. It’s a great place to be. She doesn’t often leave.

In Harmless Indulgence by SaccharineCoffee (@saccharinecoffee) M/M | 1,569 words

Mello treats his scars while contemplating Near's own.

from the world's best-dressed half of the Third L by fullmoonism (@halfmoonism) M/M | 1,943 words

(Like he’s ever needed to. It’s Near on the back of his retinas when he aims his gun, Near on the roof of his mouth when he spits blood, Near on his charred skin when he peeled himself off the concrete in the ashes of the Kira case. So Mello lost. Mello lost, and it’s still Near in the sharp hollow of his head. He doesn’t need Mello to be an anchor when he already is one.) -- As Mello does, he deals with Near's offer to be the (better-dressed) half of the Third L about as well as anyone expects of him. Which is to say: he excels in everything except dealing with his emotions.

veni vidi vici by opaleyedprince (@opaleyedprince) M/M | 3,154 words

The final sixty-two days of the Kira Case are among the most trying of Near's life.

ab imo pectore by eightspringdays (@eightspringdays) F/F | 6,401 words

Because for Mello, hate is never truly just that. If she tries hard enough, she can pretend and think how simple is to pick just one color out of the palette of emotions that Near paints on her. Mello has tried her whole life to cling to it. To think that red is the only thing she sees when Near is in front of her. Rage. Not passion. It could never be that, even if anger also carries a certain shade of twisted love that she tries to ignore. She wants to pretend she’s colorblind. She wants to pretend she never saw anything at all. Ignorance is truly a blessing, but Mello has always been a little cursed. 

near and far between by Le_VI M/M | 4,966 words

“That sounds almost considerate,” Mello says dryly. “Watch it, N, you’re starting to seem vaguely human.”

reunion by bolide (@alarici) M/M | 1,937 words

After the explosion, Near presents himself like a lamb. Instead of staying away, Near takes a risk and goes to meet Mello, first. What happens after is completely to plan.

give up, give in by orphan_account M/M | 796 words

They’ve always fought their battle in close proximity. Near has always given off the sickening impression of minding his own business. Mello has only recently decided to make it less obvious that he minds Near’s business, too.

Convictions by empressofthewind (@empressofthewind) M/M | 10,782 words

Near is adamant that Mello's confinement was never about control. Mello is not so easily convinced.

only you and i by aaxzlyte (@aaxzlyte) M/M | 3,132 words

It's, honestly, exactly what he'd wanted upon initiating this. Mello would take Near's virginity and no one else would get the chance to even look at him. Near wouldn't want anyone else to look at him, because Mello would finally be enough, in some aspect.

floating and falling all at once by squidish (@squidish) M/F | 7,581 words

"I don't suppose you'd like to.. Spend the night here, with me, would you?" Near's face is determined, but her voice is quavering. "I have food that we could eat, and.. You could sleep with me. ..In- in my bed, I mean." Mello is silent for a moment, a little awed. -- In which Near overcomes her first-time jitters, and Mello is head-over-heels in love with her.

Powder Keg by dornishviper (@vriskarlmarx) rated E | 2,014 words

Mello stops by Near's room for a late night visit after getting her photo back earlier that day. Near has a certain... fixation.

Leviticus by vorareromantic (@vorareromantic) rated E | 12,454 words

When Near was thirteen, or perhaps even younger, she had (for the most part) broken out of the programming that Wammy's had worked to instill in their pupils from a young age. The Bible was strict and contradictory, it meant little to her besides the constant pressure and fear mongering. Mello, on the other hand, was as devout as one could be. It was ironic, honestly. Near would be the model Christian if she was a believer. Mello, on the other hand, could practically be the poster child of sin.

[impalementation]

Read Uncle Vanya recently, and was struck by the similarity between Sonya's famous monologue at the end of the play and the church scene in "Beneath You." Specifically Spike's repetition of the phrase "Can we rest?"

SPIKE: [He walks to the crucifix at the altar.] She shall look on him with forgiveness, and everybody will forgive and love. He will be loved. [He stands before the crucifix, staring at it.] So everything's okay, right? [He embraces the crucifix, and his body begins to smoke.] Can we rest now? Buffy? Can we rest? - Buffy the Vampire Slayer 7x02 "Beneath You"

Here's Sonya's full monologue, though the most relevant part is at the end:

SONYA: What's to be done, we must go on living! [Pause] We shall go on living, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through a long, long chain of days and endless evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials fate sends us; we'll work for others, now and in our old age, without ever knowing rest, and when our time comes, we shall die submissively; and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered, that we have wept, and have known bitterness, and God will have pity on us; and you and I, Uncle, dear Uncle, shall behold a life that is bright, beautiful, and fine. We shall rejoice and look back on our present troubles with tenderness, with a smile--and we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, I have fervent, passionate faith... [Kneeling before him, lays her head on his hand; in a weary voice] We shall rest! [TELYEGIN softly plays the guitar.] We shall rest! We shall hear the angels, and see the heavens all sparkling like jewels; we shall see all earthly evil, all our sufferings, drowned in a mercy that will fill the whole world, and our life will grow peaceful, gentle, sweet as a caress. I have faith, I have faith... [Wipes away his tears with a handkerchief.] Poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you're crying... [Through tears] You have had no joy in your life, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait... We shall rest... [Puts her arms around him.] We shall rest! [The WATCHMAN taps; TELYEGIN plays softly; MARIA VASILYEVNA makes notes on the margin of her pamphlet; MARINA knits her stocking.] We shall rest! The Curtain Falls Slowly - Uncle Vanya, Anton Chekhov (trans. Ann Dunnigan)

Uncle Vanya is a story of ennui and disappointment with life. The titular Vanya and his niece Sonya have spent their lives dedicated to supporting Sonya's father Serebryakov, a celebrated academic, at the expense of their own yearnings and ambitions in life. Over the course of the play, both experience disappointment in romantic love. They are also shocked by Serebryakov's intention to sell the estate they have poured their lives and funds into, without regard for the precarious position it will leave them in. Near the climax of the play, Vanya attempts and impotently fails to kill both Serebryakov and himself. Sonya and Vanya end the play where they began, toiling and romantically alone. On the surface, Sonya's monologue is a spiritually optimistic exhortation to endure and hope in the face of unrewarding drudgery. But it also highlights the bleak inability of the characters to change their circumstances on their own.

"When done well it’s not just Vanya who weeps. Through an act of will, the thing that has most afflicted them – drudgery – can be embraced. The (religious) reward is loaded with paradox: in death they will find rest, and new life. Whether or not you believe in God, it’s bleak yet the repeated phrases (“We shall rest!”, “I have faith”) have a persuasive force of uplift, tolling like a bell." - Dominic Cavendish, The Telegraph

The connections to Buffy are numerous. Like Buffy, Uncle Vanya depicts the existential dilemma: How to carry on in the face of cosmic indifference? If your lot is drudgery, how do you keep going? Throughout the show, Buffy experiences slaying as an often dreary, inescapable fate, one which she has to imbue with her own meaning instead of expecting recognition or the approval of authorities or institutions. In seasons five and six this metaphorical slog is made more human and literal as Buffy struggles to continue on with the everyday aspects of being an adult. Buffy gets her rest at the end of season five, but heaven only ends up being a false, temporary respite--she has to keep going.

Freshly ensouled, Spike in "Beneath You" is newly aware of the existential struggle. Like Vanya and Sonya, Spike has been romantically disappointed and disillusioned, and can no longer rely on it as a source of meaning. It parallels Buffy's own disillusionments when it comes to both romance and Romance (for more on this if curious, there's my unfinished romanticism series). Furthermore, now that he can make true moral choices, Spike is faced with the prospect of having to keep on making them--day after day after day--and living with the consequences. He now truly understands that, due to his actions, a chance with Buffy is impossible--that his labors, with Buffy in mind, like Vanya and Sonya with Serebryakov, cannot reward him--that his romantic and heroic narratives of himself are pathetic, broken. Now he'll have to find some other reason to keep on making choices, and it will be a thankless, unending task.

But the scene also inverts aspects of Sonya's monologue in interesting ways, making it both more and less optimistic. As a text, Buffy is not underwritten by any kind of religious or spiritual faith. Where Sonya puts God ("God will have pity on us"), Spike puts Buffy ("She shall look on him with forgiveness"), and this invocation of deity is more clearly ironic in Spike's case. He proceeds to drape himself on a cross, a Christian symbol, and the fact that it burns him emphasizes the inability of formal religion to provide the absolution or direction or reprieve he might crave. In general, the religious imagery in the church scene, the basic image of an empty church, supports the idea that this is a scene about the struggle for meaning. What does it mean to crave redemption if there's no God (or Buffy) to grant it to you?

What is left, instead, is the human ability to provide such things. On the one hand, in Buffy, one cannot have faith in even a bleak hope of spiritual reprieve. But on the other hand, there is a hope and belief in people's capacity for agency and change. As always, any given scene should ultimately be tied back to Buffy's story, especially when the scene is a dramatic centerpiece between Buffy and Spike--who, like the other major characters, has paralleled her throughout the show. I think it's very significant that this scene comes so early in the season. It restates, via Spike, Buffy's own struggle for meaning and agency within the Slayer fate, adult existence, and Romantic ideas that bound her. It re-establishes that this is one of the show's most central ideas, something to be re-explored throughout the season and resolved--in some way--by the end. (Which I think it is. There are a lot of connections between this scene and Buffy and Spike's final scene in "Chosen." Spike's sacrifice, done without stated belief in Buffy's love, suggests achievement of some internal locus of meaning. He burns with purpose, instead of on a cross. This parallels Buffy's triumph over the first and sharing the Slayer power. She no longer burns on the cross of self-hatred, or slogging away at an isolated fate.)

Of course, as ever, I don't know for sure whether or not Vanya was a direct influence or reference. I would say it's fairly likely. I wasn't able to find anything direct on the subject. All I was able to turn up was that Joss Whedon (who wrote and directed that scene) had not seen The Seagull--another Chekhov play--until ca 2007, which doesn't exactly help my thesis, lol. But I will say Vanya is probably the more famous play, and Whedon has a documented love of theater, given "Once More, With Feeling" and the Shakespeare readings hosted at his house and such. Also, Vanya on 42nd Street, a classic performance of the play, was released in 1994. The modern, stripped-down rendition of Vanya in that movie has aspects in common with Whedon's version of Much Ado About Nothing. Here's Sonya's monologue from that Vanya. The delivery of "We shall rest" is simple and restrained, closer to Spike's delivery of "Can we rest" than a more ecstatic Sonya performance.

The church scene, also for reference:

[ask-the-clergy-bc]

Could I please request headcanons of the Papas meeting their S/O's very religious family for the first time, only for the family to be hostile and constantly made snide remarks about the Papas position in the Church/try to argue theology with them?

I swear I wrote something like this before, but I can’t find it so I can’t link it! But I’m still gonna answer this, just sorry if I’ve done it already! Lol!

This is also unlocking one of my favorite Papa I headcanons, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did getting to write it!

Also proof reading; I’m sorry if this misses the mark. I got carried away with thinking of different scenarios to put reader in!

Notes:

-Written with younger Nihil in mind, but reader’s choice.

-GN Reader

-Reader implied to have one or both parents/parental figures, some grandparents, and siblings. Each is different and can be swapped out per reader preference.

(Trigger warnings: emotional abusive families, unhealthy relationships with family, religious trauma for the reader.)

Papas Meeting Their S/O’s Heavily Religious Families

Papa Nihil: Your Papa never understood why you kept in contact with your toxic family. They constantly belittled you and tried to convince you to abandon your place at the clergy. You admitted that despite the nasty things they said about your faith, you still loved them. They were your family and you didn’t have the heart to completely abandon them over it. Nihil despises them but can’t force you to cut contact, so he remained supportive. One day you did get an invitation to come home as a peace offering. Nihil was suspicious but agreed that you should go. Primarily because he didn’t trust your family and didn’t want to leave you alone with them… but wait, they willingly invited him too? Shit. Now he was REALLY SUSPICIOUS! But you asked him to go with your puppy dog eyes, and he couldn’t say no.

This would be the first time he’s met them and he wasn’t going to let you down. So he reluctantly agreed to come home with you. Nihil grabbed a fine bottle of wine and a dish he had his personal ghoul made. Despite being very grumpy at having to go, your Papa was polite and charming as he could be. It lasted about ten minutes getting into the door. Because, unfortunately, your grand father was there. Your grandpa was one of those super traditional, old school types who thought everyone should bow to him as head of the household. Your grandpa didn’t even let you sit before he was criticizing your beloved. Citing him as being rude for imaginary slights, and that he would expect nothing less from a demon worshipper.

Nihil wasn’t having any of it. “Actually, I should be at the head of the table: I outrank all of you where I came from.” Your lover smirked. Then all Hell broke loose. It went from your Grandpa shouting about sin, to your mother crying for him to calm down, and then Nihil laughing in everyone’s face. You both didn’t make it an hour before you were being pushed out of the house and told to never come back. Nihil’s only regret was seeing you cry, because he knows how badly you wanted to be accepted. But he decided to take you out to dinner, instead.

Papa I: Quite frankly, your family had picked the absolute worst person to ever have a theological debate with. Papa I isn’t just a dedicated anti pope; Theology is his passion and special interest! He does nothing but study various religions, INCLUDING every single denomination of his dreaded nemesis. So you knew the day Papa met your family they would be humbled VERY quickly. Actually, you couldn’t wait to see it if you were being honest.

Your family had been pestering you for ages to come home and visit. They hated where you ran off to, but insisted they still loved you and just wanted you to come see them. God would always forgive you, right? You agreed only if you could bring Papa. With a lot of reluctance they did agree. Papa was happy to accept thinking it was your way of reconnecting with your family. He knew the stories but was willing to play nice for your sake…. Yet he was intrigued as to why you were so giddy the trip to your childhood home.

Aside from a lot of passive aggressive comments towards him (which he ignored), the family had been well behaved. It’s not until dinner that your uncle decided to have a ‘good faith’ argument ‘for fun’ with Papa’s and yours beliefs. Papa was calm at first until your uncle started preaching. You sat back with a small smile as Papa dressed the man down. Papa not only contradicted all of your uncle’s arguments with actual Bible verses, but Papa even showed he knew more about his faith than anyone could have guessed. Your family was stunned and dinner was finished in silence. Papa thanked them for a lovely time and you never fought with your family again… they were too scared for it.

Papa II: If it wasn’t for the fact that Papa genuinely cared about you he would have never agreed to this. Papa openly despises your family after hearing stories of how they treated you. You had to literally beg him to meet them just once. One dinner to meet him so they would stop hounding you about your mysterious partner and the “crazy cult you joined.” All you wanted was this one dinner so you could go back to ignoring them for the rest of the year… until Christmas, at least. You’re very lucky Papa has committed to you enough to agree. The compromise is that HE chose where to meet the family.

This is how your family got invited to one of the most prestigious Italian Restaurants in the city. Not Papa’s cherished favorite, mind you. But good enough that it cost a pretty penny. Your parents and sister didn’t seem to mind ‘dirty Satanist money’ when it got them the finest dishes in the world. Plus, it was neutral ground. so Papa was a touch more relaxed than he would have been otherwise. Even after thanking Papa, your family seemed like they couldn’t wait to be incredibly rude to him. You pushed your risotto around your plate and kept your head down as your mom kept asking questions. The kind that were thinly veiled passive aggressiveness under a sweet tone. Papa sipped his wine and answered non committaly to questions about his faith, his role in the ministry, how much he made, what made him part of the congregation…

Papa was a classy man, so one worded and cool answers kept him from being snarky. ‘Lucifer. Anti Pope. more than jesus. Birth right.’ Your mother seemed to sour more and more at his answers, and your sister sneered in barely concealed disgust. But the line was finally crossed when your mom whole heartedly smiled at Papa. “It’s never too late to be saved by Jesus. You know you both could always come home, receive forgiveness, and stop living in sin.” Papa set down his wine. “And you could stop giving tidings to a Mega Church where your pastor has a criminal record.” Your family’s stunned face was enough to make you almost choke on your food. Needless to say, you’ve never seen the three of them run out on a bill so fast after that. But you did thank Papa for being nice. After all, you know the man could have done so much worse.

Papa III: To his credit, Papa wanted to be absolutely gracious and was happy to put aside religion if it meant keeping peace with your family. He knew it was important to you to just have your family on good terms. Even if that meant a healthy arms length away from him. So he was prepared to not speak of his faith and be his cordial and charming self. Anything to make future contact easier for you! Despite your rocky differences, he knew you and your family were incredibly close.

Papa had agreed to let your family come over for dinner to help mend the bridge. He was happy to host! You didn’t think they would ever agree, but you always gave small invitations. Your family declined every single one. Until one day you decided to try again for Easter… and they accepted?? Your were a bit panicked, but Papa was ecstatic! He wanted them to like him and possibly be more communicative with you! Maybe even visit more! He had his fill of extremists in the past, so he wasn’t expecting a miracle. But he definitely wasn’t expecting to be as disrespected in his own home as he was that day.

Papa had the kitchens prepare the nicest Easter brunch in the gardens. No Jesus, but plenty of bunnies and plastic eggs for your baby cousins. Your family (and extended family) pretty much all ignored every greeting he tried to make. They didn’t acknowledge Papa and instead decided to nit-pick you, the abbey, and even the siblings serving you. Papa had gritted teeth the whole day. Trying to be level headed and supportive. but when they told him they didn’t want him saying ‘grace’ at the meal did Papa finally react. “You come into MY HOME, on YOUR HOLIDAY that we accommodated for YOU, and you treat me and my home like GARBAGE?” When your mom pointed out he was a Satanist anyway Papa yelled, “GET THE FUCK OUT!!” Papa called them everything from hypocrite to their faith to disgraces. You were happy to see all of them run out with their tails tucked between their legs. Papa never invited your family to anything ever again.

Papa IV/Copia: Copia meeting your family had been entirely by accident! You were little to no contact with them and intended to keep your partner and life AWAY from them! Yet fate had other plans. You had attended the last of the tour shows with the band and one of the destinations had been your hometown. Copia always knew you hated traveling back there. Originally he had asked if you wanted to skip over the city and take a mini break away from the crew. Happy to let you go off on your own solo trip and just reconnect with the tour after this particular show. But you vehemently were against leaving and assured him the chances of your family being around a ritual was one in a million… until you saw your entire family protesting outside of the venue. (Swiss told you to buy a lottery ticket with your odds after you picked your jaw off of the ground.)

You almost couldn’t believe your eyes. They must have stayed out for hours to yell at the band’s tour bus. The only reason you were even out there was to wrangle some of the ghouls from screwing with some of the protesters. That’s when you saw your siblings and cousins in the midst of the signs. When one of them recognized you Hell broke loose. Your brother, a proud pastor, called you out by name. Copia had come to grab you and heard it. “Beloved, is that… your brother?” You begged Copia to just go back into the bus with you. Normally, he’s a more passive man in tense events and likes to handle issues more calmly. But when your brother, sister in law, and even cousins started shouting biblical insults at you he snapped.

Very calmly Copia strolled over to your brother and met him eye to eye. You knew that Copia being calm meant he was absolutely livid. Your brother went from being belligerent to gulping at the blazing white eye of your lover. Copia recited word for word all the passages he knew about not being above God and judging your neighbor. Every time your brother tried to respond, Copia spoke over him louder and louder until he was practically shouting verses. Soon all the protestors were staring in horror until all were muttering and quiet. Copia just scoffed at your brother before turning to you. “What a terrible child of God you are. Pathetic.” You felt on top of the world when Copia guided you away, leaving behind a stunned and silent brother.

[starst0nes]

Gojo x Reader "Tangle of Faith"

Warnings: [This story contains elements of fantasy, Mature themes, Violence, NSFW]

Materialist

Chapter 1

The Heian era was one of the most tumultuous times in history, where the clash of powerful sorcerers, curses, and clans created a society that teetered on the brink of destruction. Amidst this chaos, one name echoed like a haunting melody across both the rich and poor alike Okazaki Y/n. She was the beauty that even the gods would envy, with her striking features and mysterious allure, but it wasn’t just her beauty that had every nobleman, commoner, and even sorcerer captivated. It was the power she wielded, a power that was as dangerous as it was mesmerizing: Temporal Shatter.

Y/n’s curse technique was as complicated as it was brilliant. Unlike most other sorcerers who manipulated time directly, her technique fractured it, distorting moments and bending the very fabric of time itself. Her ability could create small localized disturbances where time would either stretch, bend, or shatter. A single touch of her power could distort time in ways that would make anyone lose themselves in confusion and pain. It was said that being on the receiving end of Temporal Shatter felt like being trapped between realities, where the boundaries of time and space were no longer clear. To experience it was to be caught in a web of conflicting moments, impossible to escape — and it was as beautiful as it was agonizing.

The Okazaki clan was one of the most feared in the Heian era. Renowned for their intricate and unpredictable manipulation of time, they were a force to be reckoned with. Yet, the most powerful weapon in their arsenal was Y/n. No one was sure if she could defeat the King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna but her cursed energy was undeniably formidable. Some believed she was their last hope to face Sukuna and put an end to the chaos he spread.

But even the greatest sorcerers have their burdens.

The tragic death of the Okazaki clan’s head due to a mysterious disease had left the clan in disarray. No one knew how to lead, how to restore the clan to its former power. The elders debated: Should Touya, the late head’s son, take the reins? Or should it be Y/n, the prodigy who had already proven herself capable? Y/n didn’t care much for politics. She didn’t want the responsibility of leading, of carrying the weight of her clan’s future on her shoulders. Her mind was consumed with a single thought: She could never defeat Sukuna... not with the weakness she harbored inside.

Y/n’s POV

The weight of my responsibilities suffocated me. “Y/n-sama, I heard them talking…” Himari’s voice echoed through the ornate hall, but I barely registered her words. She was telling me that they were going to choose either me or Touya to be the next head of the clan. Touya was the obvious choice, as the late head’s son, but everyone knew I was the one with the most powerful cursed technique. Yet, it didn’t matter. I was not prepared for such a burden.

I wanted to run. To escape this life, this suffocating duty, and let myself be free, if only for a moment. But I couldn’t. Not when my clan was on the brink of collapse, and the King of Curses was still out there, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Himari, I’m going to the training grounds. I wish for no interruptions.”

The training grounds were the only place I could go to clear my mind. To bury my emotions, to face the pain I could never speak of. The place where I used to train under the guidance of the late clan head — the one who always treated me like his own, the one who believed in me even when I couldn’t believe in myself.

I still remembered the day he died, and I still remembered the day I failed to save him. I could have reversed time, could have saved him, but my cursed energy was too weak to do it. The guilt gnawed at me every day, and I couldn’t escape it.

As I entered the familiar training grounds, I whispered the words I had been repeating for days in a desperate attempt to master it:

“Fractured Perception...”

The moment I spoke those words, the world around me began to shift. Time bent, wavered, fractured like glass. In an instant, everything around me moved at different speeds. I felt my own heart race, tears building up in my eyes as I finally allowed myself to feel everything I had been holding back. The pain. The anger. The sorrow. I screamed, my voice trapped in the distortion of time.

But as the technique spiraled out of control, I realized something was wrong.

“Himari!” I called out, but my voice was swallowed by the fracture. I couldn’t hear anything. I couldn’t even hear my own breath. I felt dizzy, disoriented, and before I knew it, the world went black.

When I awoke, everything felt wrong. The air was different, the ground beneath me felt unfamiliar, and the training grounds — they were… different. No, it wasn’t just the grounds. The whole world around me was different.

I stumbled to my feet, dizzy and confused. I slid open the door, calling out for Himari, but what I saw made my heart drop. The outside was completely unfamiliar. The world was not the one I had known. Where was I?

I couldn’t even process what was happening until I heard voices — voices that made my blood run cold.

As I tried to gather my bearings, the voices grew louder. The figures in front of me I couldn’t place them at first, but their presence alone made every fiber of my being tremble. There was an overwhelming pressure in the air, a cursed energy so powerful that it nearly suffocated me. I had felt fear before, but nothing like this.

I peered around the corner, catching a glimpse of them. The first man was tall, his posture exuding confidence as if the world itself bent to his will. His eyes held an unsettling gleam, and there was something unnervingly calm about him. The second man was just as imposing, with a presence that sent a chill down my spine. His energy was... suffocating.

I didn’t know their names. I couldn’t tell who they were, but what I did know was that their cursed energy was beyond anything I had ever felt before. It radiated with such intensity that it felt as if the very air around them had weight, like they could crush the world beneath their feet with just a thought.

These men… they are not ordinary sorcerers.

The power they wielded was beyond anything I had ever seen, and it felt far too close to the cursed energy of Ryomen Sukuna. I felt my heart race, my breath shallow. The mere thought that their energy could be comparable to the King of Curses made my blood run cold. I had always known that Sukuna was an anomaly, a being that defied the laws of time and cursed energy. But these men… they were different. And I could sense the danger they posed.

I need to leave.

But no matter how hard I tried to steady my trembling hands, I couldn’t move. I was frozen, caught in the grip of their presence. I didn’t know if they were aware of me or not, but I wasn’t about to find out. My own cursed energy was a flicker compared to the storm they commanded.

I turned, my breath catching in my throat as I tried to retreat quietly. But a faint whisper brushed against my ear.

“We know you’re there.”

I froze. The voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the air with the same force as their cursed energy. I could hear the smirk in his tone. It was a game to them. And I was the prey.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I had to get away. I had to figure out what had happened, and how to fix it. The fear that gripped me now was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Their power — it was too much, and I knew that if they realized the full extent of my abilities, I would be no different than a fly caught in their web.

The question now was whether I could survive long enough to learn what had truly happened. How had I ended up here? Why had time broken, and why had I been thrown into this unknown era?

The answers were as elusive as the power these men wielded, and for the first time in a long while, I felt powerless. But I wouldn’t let that stop me. I would learn their names, their true intentions, and I would find a way back — or find a way to stop them. One way or another, I had to survive.

[swiftcast-selene]

Day 26: Faith

what you take from the earth, take care to sow again. such are the teachings of the Matron.

[justaz]

merlin (immortal) giving arthur (pendragon) the only blade that could kill him

[zuzu-draws]

[ JUJUTSU KAISEN VOL 29 COVER : TRUE FORM SUKUNA ]

[shadystranger]

the switch from worry for sam to appealing.. oh he knows how to fuck him up so perfectly tailored for him

[hauntingblue]

chopper has become catholic

[spacestation-l7]

More John and Lisa friendship dynamic doodle I did while doing one of my midterms!

Ending where they run away together :)

[the-casbah-way]

since the fandom has collectively decided that jamie's from motherwell i tend to just write it that way too but jamie is not a motherwell lad to me. he's definitely from one of the wee lanarkshire church towns where you have to wait around for two hours for a tiny rickety country bus driven by someone's half-senile grandfather to drive you to motherwell or glasgow to get a little peek at civilisation. i can't explain it or prove it in any way. but this is the truth. to me