#i do love it. but i also would like to not be screamed at so loudly my ears were ringing on my ride home yknow

[rvp32]

Heir to the clan's legacy- Chapter 3

White cum spills out of Yoona's stuffed pussy and your cock is covered in her juices and your seed.

You turn around and smirk.

"Mommy…why don't you clean my cock?"

"Y/N Do you know what the fuck you have just done!" Taeyeon screams as she walks toward you.

The loud scream makes you lose your concentration a little allowing Yoona to escape from your binding

"What have I done, mommy? I fucked Auntie Yoona because she's sexy. I'm an adult. Why are you so mad?"

"I told you specifically not to do any such thing before you left and not only did you go ahead and fuck your aunty and cum inside of her you also had the audacity to call me here," Taeyeon screams

You then turn to Yoona.

"She enjoyed it. Didn't you, mommy" You say smirking, calling Yoona mommy.

Yoona was still recovering from the orgasm and she was also scared but she shyly said, " It was some of the best sex that I have had in a very long time,"

You smirk smiling, but then Taeyeon flash-stepped and you barely reacted since you weren't on guard. You manage to bat her arm away.

"I'm not a kid anymore, mommy…if I want to fuck YoonA. I will."

"Enough, put on your clothes you are coming home with me right now and we will talk about your behavior," Taeyeon says

she then looks to Yoona, " We are going to have a really long conversation about this Yoona,"

But you shake your head.

"No. I'm not going with you. I didn't do anything wrong." You flash step and put your clothes back on but then you also grab your sword and assume a challenging position.

"Y/n don't do this, all I am suggesting is that we talk. I am not trying to hurt you or even fight you. So calm down, " Taeyeon says trying to calm you down

"Talk about what? You can't baby me anymore. I want to be with Yoona…I will be with Yoona. I'll be with whoever I want. You know I asked Kazuha to be my girlfriend today?"

Yoona was also shocked by this information because she didn't expect you to have already a girlfriend whom you just started dating today. She felt bad because she was your side piece and the second option.

"I am not babying you anymore! I won't do it. We left off at a very bad place in the morning so I just want to clear it up. For fucks sake just listen to me just this one fucking time," Taeyeon said her showing more and more frustration as the conversation goes on

You turn to Yoona.

"Just so you know, you aren't a side piece or a second option…I need to restart my clan…I want you, need you as a partner, Yoona…I love you just as I love Kazuha."

Yoona's expression turned softer after hearing that, she also realized the huge responsibility you had.

You then turn to Taeyeon.

"Don't you understand that? I love you…I want you…who better to restart my clan than you, Mommy?"

"I am open to that and I would be really happy to help you with it as well but Y/n you need to learn to take consent before you jump onto people like that, I was confused and didn't know what you really wanted," Taeyeon explained

You then flash step to her and kiss her deeply again.

"I want you…I want both of you…" Your spiritual pressure rising again.

"Calm down, you don't need to release so much spiritual pressure, I am right here," Taeyeon says as she brushes a little bit of your hair

"I need both of you…" I say with lust, as I derobe once again. "Both of my mommies…sucking my cock…I'm still so full mommy, you said you'd always take care of me.." You pout like a child, playing on Taeyeon's motherly affection for you.

"I will baby boy, I will always take care of my pretty little boy," Taeyeon says before grabbing your cock and slowly rubbing it

"Oh.." I moan, finally. My mommy..my hot mommy.

"Yoona mommy…Taeyeon mommy…please both suck my cock…worship it…"

Yoona crawls to you, with your cum still dripping out of her freshly used pussy. she massages your balls as Taeyeon plays with your cock

"Oh fuck yeah…yes…use your lips my mommies…fuck.."

"aww is that so if you want mommy to use her lips you are going to have to beg pretty boy," Taeyeon whispers in your ear and bites it

You counter and kiss at her neck. You were kissing your mommy…your beautiful Taeyeon and you nibble at her ear too.

"Please Mommy…suck my cock…I've wanted to feel it for so long…your beautiful lips and tongue.."

"Now, that's a good boy, " Taeyeon coos before getting on her knees and taking the tip of her cock into your mouth.

Yoona takes this opportunity to stand up and kiss you passionately

"Mommy it feels so good…you were meant to do this right? My cock…to take care of me…this is the only cock you ever need…"

Taeyeon speeds up, taking in more of your cock every time she went down, trying her best to fit your entire cock into her tiny cute mouth

"Holy fuck mommy…oh my god…that feels so good…yes all of it.."

You kiss Yoona too, but you begin to thrust into Taeyeon's mouth.

Yoona pulls away from the kiss, "Go on fuck that throat like you mean it, show her who she belongs to," Yoona moans into your ear and goes on to kiss your neck and leave marks all over it

This turned you on a lot. As you begin to ram your cock into Taeyeon's thrust over and over.

"My mommy whore…my mommy bitch…my slutty mommy…" You chant as you finally get what you want. Taeyeon began choking on your cock a little but she still continued to take it into her throat as much as she could.

"Go on paint your mommy's throat white with all the precious cum, " Yoona moans as she uses your fingers to stimulate her clit

You bite at Yoona's breasts and suck on her tit..trying to draw out milk. You don't stop fucking Taeyeon's mouth as you shove as much as you could in there, watching it bulge.

"Holy fuck baby that's so hot, are you trying to get milk out of me baby," Yoona moans as she pets your hair like a child who is getting breastfed

"Fuck if only there was milk coming out right now!" You moaned in between sucking Yoona's tits

You had to figure out some spell for that or something…

"Oh, mommy…I'm going to cum…down your fucking throat…"

"GO on baby cum all down your mommy's throat," Yoona cooed you dumped all your cum down Taeyeon's throat

You pant and huff, pulling out and smiling.

"How does it taste Mommy? Your first taste of my cum? Your baby boy's cum?"

"It tastes amazing baby just as I expected it to but holy fuck don't you cum a lot. this is your second load and it is so much I wonder how thick the first load must have been," Taeyeon states,

"Oh the first load was massive and thick alright, his cum is still leaking out of my pussy and I am 100% sure that I am already pregnant with his baby," Yoona says

You pull Yoona in for another torrid kiss with your tongue.

"Your feet next…both of you…I need to taste them and fuck them…" You say with desire.

"aren't you an insatiable horny bastard, if that's what you want then your mommy's shall oblige," Taeyeon says

You growl.

"Oh? Calling your baby boy a bastard? How naughty of you, mommy!" You grab both of them and toss them on the bed. You lie down and have Taeyeon and Yoona sit near you by your cock. Taeyeon folds out her legs towards your face and you begin to lick at her toes and the underside of her feet.

Yoona meanwhile gives you a footjob.

"my baby boy is so naughty and always horny for his mommies isn't he?" Taeyeon questions as she enjoys you worshipping her feet

"I love your white nail polish Mommy…and Yoona's black…so sexy…your feet are so fucking good.."

Taeyeon's feet were so soft and you try to suck on all five toes from her foot at once.

"Aren't you a greedy boy wanting so much all at once, If I had known that you were a feet-loving boy then I would have gotten a pedicure before coming here," Taeyeon says before moaning

You suck on her toes harder.

"No, your toes are so good…so hot…I love them…please give me a double footjob mommies!"

"you are so impatient," Taeyeon says before using one of her feet to push your cock into Yoona's other foot. Both of you matching the rhythm together to jerk off your big hard throbbing cock

"HOLY FUCK MOMMIES.." You howl loudly as they worked together perfectly to stroke your cock off with their feet. The contrast of pedicure colors was amazing

"oh you are really enjoying this so much aren't you, my little perverted loser," Taeyeon teases you as she continues to play with your hard cock

"He loves it so much Unnie, he blew such a huge load when I gave him a footjob before," Yoona says

You pout. "Mommy…that wasn't nice…I'm just so attracted to you…"

"You don't have to lie baby I can feel your cock throb whenever I say things like that," Taeyeon says

"It turns me on when you want me, mommy…you're all mine right?"

"Yes baby I am all yours, both of us belong to you

I then flare up my pressure and jam my cock back into Taeyeon's tight cunt, growling as I use flash step and slam her into the wall and begin drilling into her gasp "Fuck!" Taeyeon moans out as you drill into her the sudden invasion of your cock stretching out her pussy a lot more than expected

"What was that mommy?" I growl as I hammer into her and then kiss her neck, biting at it a bit.

"It feels so fucking good baby, keep pounding Mommy like that use my hole however you want!" Taeyeon growls

"Remember you're my mommy…and my caretaker…I am your Master and baby boy…and you…I fucking own you…to fuck…and use as a whore!"

"Yes, you own me, fucking use me as your whore! make you your cum dump!" Taeyeon moans out pleasure completely taking over her brain

I kiss her with my tongue and speed up. The tightness of her cunt was immaculate..my whore mommy getting fucked by my cock was something else.

"Mommy…I want to drink your fucking milk…"

"Go on baby you can have how much ever you want!" Taeyeon allows you

"Unnie, What is he talking about?" Yoona asks confused about what milk you are asking Taeyeon for

I then lower my mouth to her right breast and swirl my tongue before latching on and sucking. I was finally drinking her milk…my mommy's milk…it was perfection.

"NGHH" Taeyeon moans, the pleasure getting too much for her. It felt like absolute heaven, she hadn't had something feel this good in such a long time

A little milk leaks out from the corner of your mouth and this surprises Yoona. So many questions popping into her head and you see her eyes lined with confusion. To distract her you push your fingers into Yoona's wet pussy and finger her as you continue to pound Taeyeon

"Mommy's milk…mommy's cunt…you're both mine…" you growl.

You were fucking Taeyeon so hard…your mommy…your whore…your bitch…was now truly yours.

Taeyeon's moans now sounded like screams absolutely tearing through thr roam and they were accompanied by Yoona who was also on the cusp of another orgasm

"I'm going to fucking cum mommy! Going to fucking cum so hard!" You roar.

"Go on baby cum inside your mommy, breed her just like you did me," Yoona encourages you and Taeyeon is just simply beyond the ability to speak right now

You were finally going to do it, you were going to breed your mommy Taeyeon…

"FUCK!" You slam your cock all the way inside her cunt and explode…cumming the hardest and longest you ever have…you weren't pulling out and waited minutes until you fully emptied, painting her walls white.

Taeyeon's mind was going absolutely haywire, completely taken over by pleasure. The cum was so warm and felt perfect inside of her. satisfying everything that she had ever wanted.

You then kiss Taeyeon with more tongue.

"Mommy…Yoona…on your knees both of you…fucking clean my cock…it's official now…you're both my whores to breed and restart my clan."

Without any replies, the both of them were on their knees, cleaning up your cock.

You hiss in pleasure as both their tongues and sweet lips worked your tip and they cleaned every bit of cum left. They shared it between them and you pressed their heads together to make out with your cock.

"I've been developing a kido spell…" You say before using the enchantment and a marking of the Uzumaki clan forms just above their cunt before disappearing.

"what is it supposed to do baby?" Yoona asks innocently.

Taeyeon is also curious and is just waiting to see what you answer

"This will make it so nobody else is allowed to fuck you…your body will only respond in pleasure to my touch alone."

"Oh someone is possessive!" Taeyeon and Yoona say at the same time

"Of course…my clan…my whores…I need to keep it all in line…now then…YoonA..I think you should move to the clan compound. We can use this place as a safe house."

"Oh am I finally being allowed to move into the Uzumaki's compound" Yoona questioned

"Yes you are, You belong to me now so you should stay where I can reach you any time I want," You reply

YoonA stands and kisses you lovingly.

"Good…it's settled then… let's head back. I have my first official day tomorrow so let's try and take it easy for the rest of the day."

"Yayyy!" Yoona cheers as she puts on her robe and begins to grab things that she will need.

The three of you get back and head back into bed. You were so happy having them on either side of you…you snuggle with Taeyeon and kiss her.

"I love you, mommy. You're mine."

"What about me?" Yoona whines as she hugs you

You kiss her too.

"And you too.." All three of you drift to sleep shortly after.

[aurumalatus]

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝟏

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

genre/warnings. pixelprincess!au (princess!reader x knight!kinich), reposted for formatting lol

summary. a series of random headcanons from the universe! part 1 of many because i have lots of thoughts about these two

author's note. feel free to come scream about some more headcanons with me <3 enjoy!

𝐩𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐚𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

kinich and the princess have known about each other for a long time, but it’s only recently that they’ve really talked a lot and become close (since kinich became your guard)

kinich is a bit more open in this universe because although he grew up an orphan, he was recruited into the guard earlier and taken care of by his fellow trainees and the castle staff. he’s still pretty serious and deadpan at his core but he has a bit of silly in him too 

the maids especially used to dote on him a lot. they would coo about how beautiful his eyes are and sneak him cakes and sweets from the kitchen

kinich and the princess actually had one key interaction when they were children that she doesn’t remember

the princess came down with a bad illness and had to stay in her room for about a week. kinich was assigned guard right outside her room, but she never saw him. still, they used to talk a lot during that week through her door, and she never quite figured out who her temporary friend was.

princess used to be *very* spoiled and she knows this. kinich is one of the only people who knocks her down a peg, and he also taught her how to do a lot of practical things (i.e. cleaning, cooking, weaving) 

kinich takes his shirt off by grabbing the back of his collar and pulling it over his head (idk if i’m describing this well, but the image in my head is INSANE). 

once they actually get together, kinich is the type to kiss the princess’s tears away when she cries (i’m going to scream)

kinich secretly has always known he loved the princess in some capacity, maybe since the day he was inducted as her guard (he looked up into her eyes, knelt before her, and felt something burst in his chest). he doesn’t feel like he deserves her love in return and feels so committed to his duty that he won’t do anything about it.

kinich isn’t afraid of dying, but he’s afraid of leaving the princess alone. it’s the reason why he insists on teaching her so many practical things like fighting—he doesn’t trust anyone else to protect her like he can.

there’s a yearly tournament among the guards (and any citizens that want to enter) that is held to win the royals’ favor. kinich is required to participate due to his position, but he tries a lot harder than he lets on—something about letting another guard win kind of irritates him. he wins your ribbon as a prize, a sign of your personal favor, and keeps it on him at all times. he claims it’s just to prove that you owe him.

kinich is a TERROR in the capital marketplace. sellers love him and hate him—he’s fair, but he barters like HELL. you, on the other hand, are any easy target. you will pay pretty much any price they name, and this irritates kinich greatly.

kinich is in charge of training newer recruits to the guard, and older members will warn them not to mention the princess in front of him. last time someone said something disrespectful about her, kinich had them running laps until the sun came up.

most mornings, kinich trains at sunrise. the princess will come out to join him sometimes, either to just lay down in the grass and talk, or to bring out a picnic

many princesses from other nations are attracted to kinich, but he does not return the sentiment—whenever one tries to talk to him, he acts extremely dry and boring on purpose until they lose interest.

kinich has a lot of piercings, but they're not always optimal to fight in—on days when he expects a battle, he wears a pair of studs that the princess gifted him

the castle maids have a running bet on how long it will take you and kinich to get married. sometimes they try to push it along by telling kinich you're looking for him when you aren't, just to pull the two of you together. the pot is over one million Mora, and at some point, the queen joins as well.

[aerithmybbgmypookiemywife]

Let's spice up the SAGAU world with this idea. The reader is NOT The Creator, yet is a higher being that the characters refer to as "The Player". How would characters interact with the person who commanded them from above? And what if you still had the power to control them?

For this example, I would include Kazuha and Yanfei because they are my king and queen of my account.

oohhh honestly i feel like they would worship or think of the reader in the same way as they would worship their Creator.

Like, imagine Player! Reader playing Genshin on their phone and just absolutely fawning over Kazuha. "Oohhh look at my pretty boy…" you would mumble, and on the inside, Kazuha is flustered with that comment but always has to act like he didn't hear it. He can't see you, but he could always hear your voice… It's angelic, sweet… Calming to the ears.

When you control him, he feels calm. Kazuha fully trusts you in whatever you do.

What if Player! Reader is the type of player that just keeps yapping and commenting for no reason at all. Player! Reader is just roaming around and keeps spouting nonsense like Kazuha would say his usual line of "There are leaves around, and I know just the tune to accompany them, if you want to hear it." you would reply with "Of course baby girl hit me with it.". Or when fighting Hilichurls you would just spout filler nonsense like "HELL YEAH!! TAKE THAT BOZO!!" or "Mhm, get swirled mother fucker." while using Kazuha's skill.

Imagine Player! Reader gets a cutscene with Yanfei in it and just screams her name out of pure joy. On the inside, Yanfei is surprised but very much overjoyed with your enthusiasm. Every time Yanfei said a line, you would always comment "Yep, speak your truth queen." or "You're so right." and whatever anything just popped up in your mind.

Yanfei loves listening to you talk, although she unfortunately couldn't see you… The sound of your voice is forever engraved in her mind… She doesn't mind getting controlled by you, she knows that you were just trying to make things better for her.

But… What if… Player! Reader gets transmigrated not as a Creator, but as just a normal person… You're so fucking confused as to why you're suddenly in Liyue… Oh god… Why the fuck are the guards pointing their spears at you?!

"Who are you???" They asked with a glare, "I-I uhh… Uhh…" you stuttered, "They don't look like they belong here." one of them whispered. Before the situation could even escalate, a familiar voice spoke out. "What's going on here?" someone asked. You knew that voice…! It was…! Yanfei!

The guards of Liyue got out of her way and Yanfei got a better look at you, she looked at you from head to toe… Confused about your different type of clothing… "I swear to God I also don't know what's happening right now…" you spoke up as you held your hands up.

Yanfei's eyes widened, "Y/n…?" she muttered, recognizing your voice.

But what if it was Kazuha who met you first? Well, imagine Player! Reader wakes up and sees that their surroundings are different. "What the fuck??" you mumbled as you soon realized you were on a boat. But what boat…? Also, why were you even in the somewhat basement of the ship?

"Who are you?" a voice spoke up, it was familiar but it sounded stern. Your breath hitched to see where it came from… It came from… Kazuha? Now you're just confused…

"What the fuck…? Am I seriously in Genshin impact right now…?? IS THAT FUCKING KAZUHA?!!?" You blurted out the last sentence it hit you that it was Kazuha right in front of you! You let out a gasp and covered your mouth.

His eyes widened, "Are you… Y/n?" he asked.

I think it's safe to say you aren't worshipped by the NPC's but you are however treated well and worshipped by the Characters.

[svt-luna]

heyyyy, i was wondering how would luna and hannie react to eachother being sick/ mobbed by fans.i am sure the members are very protective over luna but hannie will be extra protective and always be attentive over luna for each and every stuff. Protective boyfie hannie sounda cuteeeeee. my heart 💞 💜

𝜗℘ NOTHING MATTERS BUT YOU

synopsis: When exhaustion and vulnerability collide, Jeonghan's quiet devotion proves that even in the midst of chaos, only one thing truly matters.

warnings: slight angst, sick!Luna, cursing, crying, fatigue, flu, anxiety, mentions of panic attacks, mentions of vomiting, claustrophobia, mobs, paparazzi, frustration, doubts, mentions of hate, overall fluff, boyfriend material!Jeonghan, fluff, fluff, fluff, more tooth-rotting fluff, a rollercoaster of emotions, posted on Hannie’s enlistment (might invoke crying because of that fact.)

I’ve been getting a lot of sick!Luna requests so I have mixed all the ideas given to me in this one-shot, so I hope you guys love it 🤍 also the songs I was listening to on a loop as I was writing this are: ‘nothing matters but you’, ‘pov’, ‘imperfect for you’, and ‘sweet nothing’— so you can listen to those songs if you want!!

also, I purposely waited to post this till this very day 🥹 I really hope it gives you comfort for this dreaded day… Hannie might be gone for a while but I hope my posts make up for it (this is how I cope) 🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The pounding.

Luna couldn’t tell if it was coming from the deep ache in her head, the constant pounding in her ears from the screams surrounding them, or the heavy thud of her own footsteps against the tiled floor.

Maybe it was all of them all together.

Each beat seemed to blur into the next, a constant, overwhelming drum that wouldn’t let her think clearly.

All fourteen members of SEVENTEEN moved in unison through the airport on their way to LA for KCON 2019, security guiding them toward their gate. Flanked by bodyguards, they were shielded from the sea of fans pressing in, screaming their names, reaching out to touch them, phones held high to capture a fleeting moment.

Ahead of her walked Seungcheol, their leader, his tall frame cutting through the crowd like a steady force. Behind her, Jeonghan’s footsteps echoed close, his presence always within reach, always steady.

But none of it helped the dull throb pulsing through her temples. Luna’s head was killing her. The flashes from the cameras set up by the media didn’t help either; each flicker of light sent sharp jolts through her skull, making her stomach churn with nausea.

She was sick— she knew that much.

It had been building for days, the flu creeping up on her from the constant traveling, the back-to-back practice sessions and the late nights spent rehearsing until her body couldn’t take it anymore. But now, walking in between her members, with hundreds of eyes watching her every move, she had to keep it together.

At least she’s dressed great— that’s what Luna told herself to keep her spirits up… it really wasn't working. Fashionable as ever, she was dressed in her usual chic, comfy airport style, but today her outfit served more than just looks. The oversized fluffy bucket hat cast a shadow over her eyes, concealing the exhaustion in them, while the face mask helped hide the pallor of her skin and the grimace that threatened to show every time her head pounded.

Normally, Luna would wave at the fans, offer a smile, or maybe even pose for a photo. But today, she only managed a few weak waves before lowering her head again, hoping the fans would think she was just sleepy and not worry about her health.

The closer they got to the gate, the tighter the space seemed to become.

Luna lifted her head slightly, catching sight of the crowd pressing in. Fans were pushing to get a glimpse, their hands outstretched, desperate to touch any part of the group, and security was doing their best to hold them back.

Her flu plus the noise, the lights, and the bodies crowding in— it all felt suffocating.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Luna's chest tightened as her breath quickened, each inhale feeling shallow and unsatisfying.

Normally, in moments like this, Luna would do her breathing exercises. She’d ground herself, focus on something steady, and calm her racing heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

But today, everything felt wrong.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her body was tired, too tired to fight back the waves of anxiety threatening to consume her.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her vision blurred slightly, and the pounding grew louder, and harsher until she finally understood— this pounding wasn’t just in her head.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

It was her heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, a beat so hard and fast it felt like it would burst out of her.

Behind her, Jeonghan was watching her every move, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

He saw the way she stilled for just a split second, the way her shoulders tensed as if bracing for something. He noticed how her hands, usually loose and graceful at her sides, were now clenched into fists, her breathing too fast, too shallow.

His gaze sharpened further, worry etching into his features. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, his hand finding hers, prying her fingers open gently. His touch was soft, but firm, as he intertwined his fingers with hers, rubbing small, soothing circles into her palm.

“You’re okay, Nana-ya. Just breathe,” he whispered softly, his voice low and steady, meant only for her. “We’re almost there. Focus on me, okay? Count with me if you need to.”

His words cut through the chaos in her mind, his voice the one steady thing she could hold on to. She closed her eyes briefly, grounding herself in the feel of his hand, the warmth of his touch, the familiar and comforting scent of his perfume, and the soothing rhythm of his voice.

“One step at a time,” Jeonghan continued, his thumb still stroking the back of her hand. “We’ll be at the gate soon. You can rest once we get there.”

He kept talking, his words a careful balance of distraction and comfort, pulling her mind away from the overwhelming noise and back to him.

Slowly, Luna’s breathing began to even out, her heartbeat returning to a more manageable pace. The tension in her shoulders eased, her body relaxing as the adrenaline wore off, leaving her more exhausted than before.

She leaned into Jeonghan slightly, letting herself rest against him, her safe space, as they finally reached their gate, away from the crowd, away from the cameras.

Once they reached the private lounge, Jeonghan gently guided Luna toward a plush couch near the floor-to-ceiling windows, the vast expanse of the airport runway visible just beyond. The planes, a mix of sleek white and metal gray, dotted the tarmac, and the low hum of activity outside served as a soothing backdrop compared to the chaos they’d just escaped.

Jeonghan’s hand never left hers, their fingers intertwined as she waddled beside him, each step slow and tired. She was beyond exhausted, her body heavy with sickness, yet Jeonghan’s touch anchored her, guiding her through the fog of her fatigue.

When they reached the couch, he helped her settle down, his touch as gentle as always. As soon as Luna sank into the cushions, her body practically melted into the soft fabric. She turned her head, laying it against Jeonghan’s shoulder, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

The cool glass window before her framed the scene outside— the luggage carts moving in their organized chaos, the steady movements of the ground crew— but she barely registered any of it.

Luna just needed a moment to breathe.

Jeonghan’s presence next to her was grounding, his shoulder warm and solid beneath her cheek. She opened her eyes again, gaze trained on the ramp and the plane in front of them, trying to focus on anything but the ache still pounding in her temples. The rhythmic movements of the airport outside, the planes being loaded, gave her something to latch onto, something to quiet her racing thoughts.

The members gathered in the lounge, scattered on the surrounding couches and chairs. At first glance, they seemed relaxed, chatting in low voices, but the way their eyes kept flicking over to Luna didn’t go unnoticed. They knew she was sick— had seen it on her face for days— but now, seeing the weariness settle in her features, they realized how much tired she looked.

Dino, the youngest, opened his mouth as if to ask how she was feeling, but before he could utter a word, Jeonghan glanced over his shoulder and gave a subtle, calm, but firm look.

It was a wordless command, the kind of look that said, Not now.

Seungcheol, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow at Jeonghan, silently asking if everything was okay. The two eldest exchanged a brief glance, an entire conversation passing between them without words. Jeonghan’s slow, reassuring nod told him everything he needed to know.

This wasn’t Luna’s first anxiety attack. She’d had multiple of them before, although it had been a while since her last one. She’d been managing them so well, but today, with the flu weakening her defenses, it had slipped through.

Seungcheol, understanding the situation, gave a barely perceptible nod back. The other members saw the exchange and, without a word, fell into a quiet understanding, lowering their voices and making sure the space around Luna remained as peaceful as possible.

Jeonghan turned back to Luna, his eyes softening as he took in her tired expression. She was still gazing out the window, her eyes following the movements of the airport crew as they loaded luggage onto the planes.

He knew her too well— knew that she was counting in her head, focusing on each piece of luggage as it was lifted and placed into the cargo hold, using it as a distraction to keep her mind occupied.

“Good job. You’re doing such a good job,” he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the ambient noise around them. His arm was draped around her shoulders, his fingers threading through her hair in slow, soothing motions. His other hand still held hers, his thumb tracing gentle circles over her skin. “There you go, Jiyeonie, You’re doing so well.”

The tenderness in his voice made her heart ache in a different way, a warmth blossoming in her chest even though she still felt so drained. She wasn’t fully okay, but with him there, she felt safer, more grounded.

The world outside continued its steady pace, the rhythmic movements of the airport playing out in front of her. Luna’s eyes still remained following the luggage cart, watching as it carried suitcases toward the plane.

Jeonghan, after much thought, leaned in a little closer. “I bet they lost your luggage,” he joked, his voice still quiet but laced with a teasing edge.

Despite the heaviness in her body, Luna couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She turned her head just enough to give him a playful pout. “Is that your way of making me feel better?” she asked softly, her voice scratchy from fatigue.

Jeonghan smiled down at her, his free hand brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering as if she was something fragile, something so precious.

The way he looked at her at that moment— it was as if she hung the moon and stars as if nothing else mattered but her, like she was the center of his universe.

“I know it will,” he replied, his smug smile widening just a fraction. “Because then I’ll get to buy you new clothes.”

Luna’s eyes sparkled with amusement despite the exhaustion weighing her down. She couldn’t believe how easily he could see right through her, how effortlessly he made her feel better without even trying.

It was like he had some sort of superpower— knowing exactly what she needed before she even realized it herself.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, pulling Luna a little closer to his side, his hand still gently playing with her hair. The rhythm of his fingers brushing through her strands was slow and steady, matching the calming atmosphere around them.

Luna shifted slightly, letting out a quiet sigh as she allowed herself to fully relax into him, her cheek pressed comfortably against his shoulder.

“You’re so cute when you’re sleepy,” Jeonghan whispered, a playful lilt in his voice as he glanced down at her, the corners of his mouth quirking into a fond smile.

Luna groaned softly, not even bothering to open her eyes. “I’m not cute. Definitely not cute now,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible as exhaustion weighed down her every word.

Jeonghan chuckled, low and soothing, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Yes, you are. My cute little Jiyeonie. You’re always cute,” he cooed, his tone shifting into that familiar baby talk that he always used when he wanted to tease her.

Luna, too tired to argue, just grumbled in response, burying her face further into his shoulder. She knew there was no point in protesting; Jeonghan would always win this argument, and deep down, she didn’t mind. Not when his voice was so soft, so comforting.

“Hmm, you’re doing so well, my pretty angel,” he murmured again, his thumb now gently rubbing circles into the back of her hand. “You’re such a strong girl, you know that?”

Luna hummed quietly, the sound of his voice wrapping around her like a blanket. She didn’t have the energy to say much, but she didn’t need to.

Jeonghan knew. He always knew.

He smiled down at her, his gaze warm as he watched her eyes flutter open just a crack, still half-lidded from fatigue. “You’re going to feel better soon. I promise,” he continued softly.

A playful glint appeared in his eyes, and he lifted his hand in front of her face, acting like he grabbed something out of thin air.

Luna, confused, raised an eyebrow as she glanced at his closed fist.

“See this?” Jeonghan said, eyes shifting to his hand as if it held something important.

“What?” Luna asked, her confusion deepening as she watched him curiously.

Jeonghan dramatically acted as if he was throwing something out the window, his arm swinging with a flourish. “I just gave your flu to the guy who lost your luggage,” he said, his face completely serious.

Luna’s eyes widened in disbelief before a small giggle bubbled up from her chest. She gently pushed against his chest, her laughter soft and light. “My luggage isn’t lost, and that man didn’t do anything. He doesn’t deserve to be sick,” she pouted, her lips curving into a playful frown.

Jeonghan sighed in mock amazement, shaking his head. “You are the actual angel between the two of us,” he remarked, his voice filled with a mixture of affection and admiration as he looked at her.

“Whatever,” Luna snuggled closer to him, her eyes closing once more.

Jeonghan placed a kiss on top of her head and said, “When we get there, I’m going to make sure you rest. I’ll tuck you in, and you won’t have to worry about anything else, okay?”

Luna nodded weakly, her grip tightening slightly around his hand. “Mm… sounds nice,” she whispered, her voice raspy but laced with gratitude.

Jeonghan’s smile widened. “Of course it does. I know what my girl likes.” He leaned down, brushing another kiss to the top of her head, lingering for a moment as if that small gesture could transfer all the comfort and care he had for her.

Luna felt her chest warm at his words, a tiny smile tugging at her lips. Even in her exhaustion, even with her body feeling like it was weighed down by bricks, she couldn’t help but feel lighter when he spoke to her like this.

Like she was the only thing that mattered.

“Does that mean you’ll spoil me?” she teased softly, the smallest hint of playfulness in her tone despite how tired she was.

Jeonghan grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he looked down at her. “Oh, absolutely. Whatever you want, Nana-ya. You name it, and it’s yours.” He brushed his thumb gently across her cheek, his touch as tender as ever. “I’m at your service, baby.”

Luna let out a soft laugh, barely more than a breath, but it was enough to make Jeonghan’s heart swell. “You’re so ridiculous,” she muttered, her voice carrying that familiar affection she always had for him, even when she was exhausted.

“And you love me for it,” Jeonghan replied with a smirk, his tone teasing but undeniably affectionate. He knew how to pull the smallest reactions from her, knew exactly what to say to keep her grounded, to make her feel seen and cherished.

“I do,” Luna whispered, her voice soft but certain, her eyes fluttering closed once more as she relaxed completely into his embrace. She let out a deep, tired breath, her fingers lacing tighter with his as if holding onto him was the only thing keeping her anchored.

Jeonghan’s gaze softened even further, his thumb still brushing over her hand in a slow, comforting rhythm. “My strong girl,” he murmured again, the words barely above a whisper. “You’re doing so, so well.”

The bustling lounge around them, the noise of the airport— it all faded into the background. And in that moment, it didn’t matter how long the flight would be, or how tired and worn out Luna felt.

As long as Jeonghan was there, holding her, whispering words of comfort in her ear, she knew she’d be okay.

Because with him, nothing else mattered.

As they waited for their plane, Jeonghan held her close, his presence as steady and unwavering as ever.

The world could wait.

For now, nothing mattered but her.

Jeonghan stayed glued to Luna’s side from the moment they boarded the plane. He didn’t leave anything to chance. From the way her seatbelt clicked softly around her, to how he made sure she ate the light meal they were served, his eyes were always watching her.

Jeonghan's hand lingered on her shoulder, his thumb grazing the fabric of her sweater as he asked in that quiet, calming voice of his, “Comfortable?”

Luna nodded, the fatigue weighing heavily on her bones. But even though her body cried for sleep, Jeonghan was already one step ahead, adjusting the small blanket over her legs and shoulders, cocooning her in warmth. He tucked it gently under her chin, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “Sleep,” he whispered, his tone low and velvety. “I’ll wake you up when we land.”

She mumbled something incoherent in reply, but Jeonghan wasn’t deterred. He adjusted her pillow and gave a soft, satisfied hum when she finally closed her eyes.

Every slight movement on the plane— the ding of the overhead lights, the sound of people shifting in their seats— he shielded her from it all, his focus entirely on her comfort.

Hours passed and the city of Los Angeles glittered beneath them, the sprawling lights blinking like tiny jewels as the plane touched down.

Jeonghan never let go of Luna’s hand, guiding her through the throng of people in the airport, his hand firm and steady on her back. He had seen the earlier signs, the slight tremble in her hands, the way her breath had hitched at the thought of another crowded, overwhelming moment. And he wasn't about to let her go through that again.

They moved swiftly, his arm looped protectively around her waist, his pace matching hers as they wove their way through LAX. Luna leaned into him, her steps faltering only slightly, and though no one said it aloud, Jeonghan was the anchor she clung to.

When they reached the van that would take them to the stadium for rehearsal, Jeonghan cast her a long look, his brow furrowed in silent question. “You okay?” His voice, though soft, was insistent.

Luna nodded, too stubborn to let the exhaustion speak for her. She was tired and sick, but there was no way she would admit it— not when she had been working so hard for this specific performance— it was the reason she was sick in the first place.

The moment they stepped into the stadium, the rest of the members hovered around her. They could see it in her eyes— the flu that clung to her like a shadow— but Luna? She just waved them off with a tired smile, ignoring their concerned stares. Even when they hesitated to let her rehearse, insisting that she should sit this one out, Luna remained firm.

"I’d rather break all my bones than not perform," she said quietly but with enough determination that no one dared challenge her not even Seungcheol who could see the desperation in her eye.

And so, the rehearsal began.

Luna danced with a fierce precision, her every movement sharp and in sync with the music. Despite her voice being raspier from the flu, she hit all the notes, her performance flawless.

To anyone watching, it was as though nothing was wrong.

She was perfect.

But Luna didn’t feel perfect.

She could sense every flaw, every small imperfection that gnawed at her like an itch she couldn’t scratch. The cough that threatened to break through at any moment, the aching in her muscles that slowed her just enough to frustrate her beyond reason. Her mind spiraled as she rehearsed, the frustration coiling tightly in her chest, threatening to break her.

During a break, she paced across the stage, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The stress, the pressure, the illness— it was all too much, and she could feel it mounting inside her like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

Jeonghan watched her silently from across the stage, his brow furrowed as he took in every minute detail— the way her fingers flexed, the way she bit her lower lip in frustration.

He knew her too well.

He could see it— how close she was to breaking both physically and mentally.

And as they made their way back to the hotel after rehearsal, Jeonghan remained silent, his eyes trained on her, sensing the inner turmoil she tried so hard to hide.

Luna, of course, could feel him watching her.

Jeonghan always knew, always could tell when something was wrong. It annoyed her, but in the same breath, she loved him for it. She loved that he could read her thoughts, even the ones she tried to bury. And she knew, as soon as they walked through that hotel door, that he would corner her about it.

The second they entered her room, silence filled the space. Luna barely made it two steps inside before Jeonghan was there, gently spinning her around to face him. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs tenderly brushing against her flushed cheeks, his eyes soft and full of understanding.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice like a gentle caress. Luna blinked up at him, her doe eyes shimmering with the unshed tears that threatened to spill.

Jeonghan’s gaze softened further, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he stroked her skin.

He didn’t need to ask. He didn’t need to say anything. He already knew.

Before Luna could say a word, Jeonghan pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight, comforting embrace. The moment his arms enveloped her, the dam inside her broke. She melted against him, her body shaking as the tears finally poured out.

All the pain, all the frustration, all the doubt— she let it all go in that moment, burying her face in his chest as her sobs echoed softly against him.

Jeonghan held her, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. He didn’t shush her, didn’t tell her to stop crying. He just held her, letting her release every bit of the pent-up emotions she had been carrying for far too long.

When her sobs grew quieter, turning into soft sniffles and hiccups, he gently cooed to her, his voice as soft as velvet.

“You’re frustrated, hm? I know, baby. I understand,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to feel like this.”

Luna just cried harder, her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as she let it all out.

She didn’t need to say anything— Jeonghan understood it all.

“I’m here,” he continued, his voice soothing as he rocked her gently. “I know it’s hard. But you don’t have to be perfect, okay?”

Slowly, he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest as he carried her over to the bed. He sat down, settling her in his lap, his arms still wrapped around her protectively. “Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, brushing a tear-streaked strand of hair out of her face. “You’ve done enough. More than enough.”

Luna continued to cry softly, but the tension in her body began to ease as Jeonghan rocked her gently, his lips pressing soft kisses to her temple. “.You’re the strongest person I know, and I love you for that.”

His words were soft, comforting, and firm. The way he doted on her, the way he held her like she was the most precious thing in the world— it was everything she needed. Everything she didn’t know she needed until now.

“I’ve got you,” Jeonghan whispered, his voice laced with tenderness as he continued to hold her close. “I’ve always got you.”

And at that moment, as Luna clung to him, feeling the weight of her frustrations slowly lift, she knew that no matter how hard things got, Jeonghan would always be there, holding her, understanding her, loving her.

Just like he always had.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, surrounded by a silence that wasn’t empty but filled with everything unsaid.

The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only noise in the room, punctuated by Luna’s occasional sniffles and quiet hiccups, each one making Jeonghan’s hold on her tighten ever so slightly.

His fingers traced comforting patterns along her back, and every now and then, he hummed softly— a sound as soothing as a lullaby— cooing, “Shh, it’s okay,” whenever she let out a shaky breath. He pressed gentle kisses to the crown of her head, his voice warm, melting the edges of her pain.

After a few minutes, when her crying had slowed and her breathing evened out, Jeonghan pulled back slightly, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as if he were afraid that speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile peace they’d built around them.

He didn’t push, didn’t rush her. He simply waited, his thumb grazing her cheekbone in the softest, most patient of motions. His eyes were full of understanding, holding a quiet strength she could lean into.

Luna looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, and she knew. She couldn’t keep anything from him. She never could.

She let out a long sigh, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt for stability, and then the words tumbled out. “I hate being sick,” she began, her voice raw, the vulnerability clear in her tone.

“I know, baby,” Jeonghan murmured, his voice laced with gentle affection. His thumb continued to trace slow circles on her cheek, grounding her as she spoke.

“I hate feeling…weak. I hate that I can’t keep up, that I’m slowing everyone down,” she continued, her words rushing now as if she’d been holding them back for too long. “And I hate feeling like a burden.”

Jeonghan’s gaze softened, but before he could say anything, Luna pressed on. “You know how much I hate that feeling, right? It reminds me of…of the early years. When people would call me names and isolate all my mistakes, just because I am the only girl.” Her voice cracked at the last part, and Jeonghan’s heart ached for her.

He remembered those days all too well— how Luna had carried the weight of others' expectations and criticisms, how she had tried to be everything to everyone and in the process had nearly crumbled under the pressure.

“I know,” Jeonghan whispered again, his voice laced with a protective tenderness. He shifted slightly so he could cup both sides of her neck with his hands, his thumbs brushing along her jawline. “I know, baby.”

Luna swallowed hard, the memories of those early years washing over her. “And now, I feel like I can’t let that happen again. My pride won’t let me. My ego won’t let me. I have to be perfect, always, and it’s— it’s too much.” She paused, her breathing uneven as she fought to gather her thoughts. “The pressure— it’s crushing me. And sometimes, I just…I feel too sensitive, too soft for all the noise, you know? For everything.”

“I’m not as strong as I pretend myself to be.” Her voice wavered as she said it, and she glanced up at Jeonghan, her eyes wide and full of uncertainty.

Admitting this to anyone else would have been impossible.

But Jeonghan? He was the only person on the planet she could admit that to.

The only person who made her feel safe enough to bare her soul.

Jeonghan listened silently, his hands never leaving her neck, his fingers caressing the soft skin there in gentle, calming strokes. His eyes never left hers, and in that moment, Luna knew— he wasn’t judging her, wasn’t frustrated with her. He was just there, solid and steady, giving her all the time she needed.

He took a few seconds after she finished, gathering his thoughts, his eyes never wavering from hers. And then, with a tenderness that made Luna’s heart ache, he spoke. “You don’t have to be perfect, you know that?” His voice was soft, yet firm— an anchor in the storm of her emotions. “No one is perfect. Not me, not you, not anyone. And that’s okay.”

He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, his gaze deep and thoughtful. “I don’t love you because you’re perfect, Jiyeon. I love you because you’re you. Unapologetically you. The good, the bad, the pretty, the ugly— all of it.”

Luna’s lip trembled, but Jeonghan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re more than enough, baby. You always have been. I don’t need you to be anything other than who you are, right here, right now.”

Luna opened her mouth to protest, but Jeonghan cut her off, his voice gentle but insistent. “No, listen to me. Stop thinking like that. You’re not a burden. You never were.” His fingers slipped through her hair, his touch soft as he cradled her head in his hands. “You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve been through so much, and yet you’re still standing, still shining.”

“I don’t feel strong,” Luna mumbled, her voice thick with doubt as tears slowly fell out of her eyes.

Jeonghan shook his head, smiling at her with that knowing look as he wiped the tears away. “That’s because you don’t see yourself the way I do.” He tapped her nose lightly, making her blink in surprise. “I see someone who’s been fighting her whole life, someone who’s never backed down, even when things were hard.”

“But I—” Luna tried again, but Jeonghan cut her off with a teasing smirk.

“Ah, ah, no buts,” he teased, his voice a playful mix of softness and scolding. “You’re allowed to feel tired. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed. But don’t for one-second think that makes you less amazing. You’re not supposed to carry everything on your own. I’m here, remember?”

Luna blinked up at him, her heart swelling at his words. “But what if I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” Jeonghan interrupted his tone light, yet filled with understanding. “Keep going? You’ve been keeping up just fine. Better than fine, actually.”

“But what if I don’t?” she whispered, her eyes filled with doubt.

Jeonghan’s smile softened, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Then you lean on me. That’s what I’m here for. That’s what we do for each other. Plus you have twelve more people out there who are more than willing to be your support— you can have your pick.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as he whispered against her skin, “You’re not alone, Nana-ya. Not now, not ever.”

Luna didn’t know how she’d survived this long.

For years, it had felt like she was running on fumes, each step forward met with resistance from her own mind, her own doubts. But now, as she lay in Jeonghan’s arms, her head against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, she understood.

She was looking at one of the reasons why.

Jeonghan was her anchor.

Every smile, every whispered reassurance, every small touch had kept her grounded when she felt like she was unraveling.

Jeonghan made her feel as though the world was spinning just for her like nothing else mattered but the two of them in this moment.

How easily he could make her feel seen, cherished, and loved— it was terrifying how much she was still falling for him, and yet, she couldn’t help it.

The deeper she fell, the safer she felt, as if his love was a cushion that would catch her no matter what.

Luna felt him press another kiss to her forehead, and before she could protest, he shifted slightly, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. Her fingers slipped from his chest and lazily found his hand, playing with his long fingers as he allowed her to, his grip soft but ever-present.

Luna watched him silently, her gaze tracing the familiar contours of his face— the delicate slope of his nose, the gentle arch of his brow, the way his lips moved slightly as he prepared to speak into the phone.

He glanced down at her, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he watched her play with his fingers, but then his attention shifted back to the call. “Hey, hyung,” Jeonghan said, his voice smooth and composed, though there was a hint of urgency beneath his words.

Luna’s heart swelled at the sound— it was her favorite sound in the world, his voice. So full of warmth, so full of love.

“Yeah, Jiyeonie’s not feeling well… No, no, she’s okay, but I need you to pick up some things.” There was a brief pause as he listened, his eyes flicking down to Luna again as he continued to let her fidget with his hand. “Some medicine for the flu… Yeah, and get some chamomile tea too. It’s her favorite.” His smile widened slightly as he said that, knowing how much comfort it would bring her.

Luna looked up at him as he spoke, her mind swimming in the soft cadence of his voice. She remembered what he had said earlier, about seeing herself the way he saw her. That thought stayed with her, echoing in her mind like a gentle hum.

She wanted to know— desperately— what it would be like to love herself the way Jeonghan did. To see herself not as a burden, but as someone worthy of care, worthy of love, for all the good and bad, the ugly and the pretty. Because no one had ever loved her like he did.

“Yeah, and one more thing,” Jeonghan’s voice brought her back to the present. “Can you grab her food for dinner on the way, too? The Korean restaurant… the place she loves here— yeah, the one in Koreatown. Thanks, hyung. I owe you.” He ended the call with his manager, setting the phone down and turning back to her.

Jeonghan’s gaze softened as he took in the way she looked up at him, her eyes full of wonder and love.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he said softly, his voice wrapping around her like a promise, a vow he intended to keep.

And he did.

The next hour passed in a blur of warmth and gentle care.

When the doorbell rang, Luna let out a soft whine as Jeonghan carefully untangled himself from her. He chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her temple. “I’ll be right back, angel. Don’t worry,” he reassured her, his tone playful yet filled with affection.

True to his word, Jeonghan returned moments later with two bags in hand. One was filled with medicine—painkillers, cold medicine, and everything else she needed to combat the flu. The other was heavier, the delicious aroma of her favorite takeout filling the room as he set it on the table. He helped her sit up, propping pillows behind her as he opened the containers.

“Come on, you need to eat,” he coaxed gently, handing her a set of chopsticks.

Luna smiled gratefully, the smell of the food making her realize just how hungry she still was, despite feeling sick. They ate in comfortable silence, the easy rhythm of their natural conversation punctuated by the clink of chopsticks and soft laughter.

As they finished the meal, Jeonghan moved to the small kitchenette in the hotel room and began preparing her favorite chamomile tea. Luna watched him from the bed, her body sinking deeper into the plush comforter. Even the simple act of him boiling water and steeping the tea felt like an expression of love— like everything he did was a way of showing how much he cared for her.

He returned to her side with the steaming mug, blowing on it slightly before handing it to her. “Here, this will help your throat.”

Luna took the mug from him, the warmth seeping into her hands as she took a slow sip. The tea was soothing, the familiar floral notes calming her from the inside out.

Jeonghan then reached for the medicine he’d asked for, placing the pills into her hand and watching carefully as she swallowed them.

“Good job, Nana-ya,” Jeonghan praised her, knowing how much she hated drinking medicines.

After she had finished, he set an alarm on his phone for her next dose, determined to make sure she stayed on track with her medication.

“You’re really babying me,” Luna teased, her voice still a little raspy from the congestion, but there was a smile in her tone.

Jeonghan shrugged, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes as he responded, “What can I say? You’re my favorite person to take care of.”

Luna felt her heart flutter at his words, the warmth spreading through her chest. “I’m really lucky to have you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but Jeonghan heard it loud and clear.

“No,” he corrected, leaning in to press his lips against her forehead once more. “I’m the lucky one.”

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, spilling in through the massive hotel windows that stretched from floor to ceiling.

Outside, the night sky was clear, and the moon hung like a silent guardian over the city below, casting an ethereal light across the room. Its glow painted the walls in silver, illuminating the quiet space where Luna and Jeonghan lay wrapped in each other’s arms.

Luna was curled into Jeonghan’s side, her head nestled against his chest, her body comfortably molded to his. Their legs tangled together under the covers, their shared warmth a cocoon that separated them from the world outside.

Jeonghan's hand rested on her back, his fingers moving in slow, gentle circles, the repetitive motion soothing her in a way only he could. With his free hand, Luna absentmindedly played with his fingers, her fingertips tracing the lines of his palm, their silent rhythm in sync, matching the slow rise and fall of their breathing.

The moonlight caught Luna’s eye, and from her place against Jeonghan, she stared out at it through the window, the silvery glow making the world seem calm and still. She watched as the moon floated in the vast expanse of the night sky, almost otherworldly in its beauty, and yet… so familiar. There was a quiet comfort in its light, a reminder of home, of memories that always seemed to resurface on nights like these.

Jeonghan noticed the shift in her attention. He felt the way her body relaxed even more against him, her breathing becoming deeper as her gaze remained fixated on the night outside. He followed her line of sight, but his focus quickly returned to her.

As Luna continued to gaze at the moon, Jeonghan found himself lost in a quiet, ironic admiration.

Here she was, completely mesmerized by the pale, glowing orb in the sky— and yet, to him, the real moon lay beside him, nestled in his arms.

Luna.

He watched the way her brown eyes glistened under the moonlight, their deep, warm color now reflecting the cool, silver light. Her expression was soft, almost dreamlike as if the light had cast a spell on her.

But Jeonghan knew better— it was she who had cast the spell on him.

He watched the way her brown doe eyes reflected the moonlight made them sparkle, turning her soft, innocent gaze into something more enchanting, almost siren-like, as though she were lost in thought, drawn into the beauty of the sky. Her pale porcelain skin, smooth and delicate, glowed under the moon’s light, and Jeonghan couldn't help but smile softly at the sight.

He took in every detail of her, from the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed to the faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose— something only visible up close, and he always found them endearing, a hidden piece of her beauty that not everyone got to see.

But he did.

He noticed everything.

The way her lips parted slightly as she lost herself in thought, the way her hair fell messily over her shoulder, catching the light in glittering strands.

Jeonghan admired her just as she admired the moon, realizing that to him, Luna was just as captivating— if not more so.

It was poetic, really, this silent moment between them.

As she gazed at the moon in the sky, Jeonghan found himself gazing at the moon in his arms.

Jeonghan admired her in silence, his heart swelling with affection. There was something so serene about Luna in moments like these, something that took his breath away every time.

She was beautiful in ways she didn’t even realize— imperfections that made her perfect to him.

As he continued to trace slow circles on her back, he vowed silently that he’d show her. He’ll make her see how perfect she is. How she’s so much more than she thinks.

The silence between them was comfortable, the quiet hum of the city outside a distant sound they barely noticed. Then, breaking the stillness, Luna’s soft voice filled the air, her eyes never leaving the moon.

"My mom loves the moon," she said quietly, her voice almost wistful.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened at the mention of her mother. He reached up with his free hand and gently brushed a stray hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear with a tenderness that made her heart skip a beat. "I know she does," he murmured in response, his voice low and gentle. "You told me before."

A small smile tugged at Luna’s lips, still staring up at the moon as if it held all the secrets of the universe. "She said if she wasn’t a ballerina, she would’ve been an astronaut," Luna giggled softly, a sound that made Jeonghan’s smile widen.

He loved it when she talked about her family— her face always lit up with a kind of soft nostalgia. Jeonghan listened, his hand continuing to move in gentle patterns on her skin, offering her the quiet comfort she needed.

"She used to tell me," Luna continued, her voice light with memory, "that she would talk to the moon and make wishes to it."

Jeonghan smiled at that, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice just as soft.

Luna nodded, the movement subtle as her head remained resting on his chest. “I remember telling her she sounded crazy,” she chuckled, her laughter warm and full of affection.

Jeonghan’s eyes sparkled with playful mischief, and before Luna could react, he poked her side, his fingers finding her waist. "No, you didn’t," he teased, his voice playful.

Luna squealed, a burst of laughter escaping her as she squirmed slightly, turning to pout up at him. Her lips jutted out in an adorable frown as she met his teasing smile. "I did!" she insisted, her voice filled with mock indignation.

Jeonghan grinned down at her, his eyes twinkling as he admired the way her cheeks flushed, her pout softening into a smile. He was always so easily captivated by her— by the smallest details, the little quirks she didn’t even know she had.

Luna shifted her gaze back to the moon, her voice quieting as she spoke again. “She loved it so much, she named me after it.” Her words were almost whispered, and there was a reverence in her tone, as if the name held all the weight of her mother’s love.

Jeonghan’s chest tightened with affection. His eyes drifted between her and the moon outside, and a gentle smile tugged at his lips.

It was fitting, he thought, that Luna was named after the moon.

Just like the celestial body that lit up the darkest nights, she illuminated every part of his life, even the pieces he didn’t know needed light.

“Did you know,” Jeonghan broke the silence, his voice soft, “that the moon isn’t perfectly round?”

Luna raised an eyebrow at his sudden trivia, curiosity and amusement flickering in her eyes as she glanced up at him. “I did know that, nerd,” she teased, her tone playful as her lips curved into a smile.

Jeonghan chuckled, his playful side emerging as he stuck out his tongue and ruffled her hair. “If you knew that, then that makes you a nerd too, nerd.”

Luna let out a soft whine, quickly removing his hand from her head— not because she cared about him messing up her hair, but because she didn’t want to let go of his hand. She hated losing that connection, even for a second.

Jeonghan chuckled again, his tone softening as he cooed gently, “Okay, alright, I’m here.” He wrapped his arms more securely around her, pulling her even closer to him, and she let out a content sigh, her body relaxing once more into his embrace.

After a beat, Luna broke the silence, her voice soft but curious, “What was your point?”

Jeonghan hesitated for a second, his gaze lingering on her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. He cupped her face, the warmth of his palm grounding her. “The moon is full of imperfections,” he said, his voice tender, almost reverent.

Luna softened at his words, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

He was trying to prove his point, his way of telling her she was enough, even with her insecurities and doubts.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She felt her chest tighten, but not in the panicked way it had at the airport. This pounding sensation was different. It was calm, steady, and tethered to him. She could feel her heart beating in sync with his, the rhythm of their shared breaths filling the space between them.

Jeonghan’s voice drew her back to the moment. “But people like your mom,” he continued, his eyes locking onto hers, “they still talk to it, still look for it when they can’t find it. And they still love it... and it still shines, regardless.”

Her eyes welled up with tears again, her heart aching at how deeply she loved him in that moment. No one had ever made her feel so seen, so deeply understood. The way he cherished her, imperfections and all, made her want to cry and laugh at the same time.

Jeonghan's hand gently wiped away a tear before it could fall, his expression soft but serious. “You’re no different, Jiyeonie,” he murmured, his voice full of affection. “I still talk to you, I still look for you when I can’t find you. And I still love you… and you still shine, regardless.”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Her heart clenched at his words, and she could feel that familiar pounding again, not the anxious panic from before, but something far more peaceful— like her heart was trying to tell her that everything was okay.

The way his heart beat in time with hers soothed her, anchoring her. The tears slipped freely now, no longer held back by the dam she’d built around her emotions.

Jeonghan's expression shifted as he noticed her tears, his lips curling into a soft smile as he tried to lighten the mood. “But…” he said, drawing out the word as if he was about to reveal something serious.

Luna blinked up at him, her eyes still glassy, wondering where he was going. He smirked playfully. “One thing you won’t have in common with the moon is… being lonely.”

She furrowed her brow, trying to follow his train of thought. Before she could ask, he leaned in, his voice low but teasing, “You have me, my moon.”

That was it.

The floodgates opened again, but this time she chuckled through her tears, pushing him playfully. “You’re a nerd,” she whined, sniffling, “and a sap.”

Jeonghan laughed at that, his whole face lighting up with amusement. He reached out and wiped her face gently, his fingers brushing away the stray tears. “Aww, my little crybaby,” he teased her in baby talk, cooing at her like he was speaking to a child. “C’mon, no more tears, okay?”

Luna pouted, swatting at his hand, “Stop making me cry then!” Her voice wavered, a mix of frustration and affection, but even as she said it, she couldn’t help but smile.

Jeonghan grinned, unbothered by her playful complaint. “Oh, I’m sorry, is my love too overwhelming for you?” He teased, laughing softly as she glared at him half-heartedly.

“Shut up,” she muttered, though there was no real bite in her voice. Instead, she let herself melt into him again, feeling safe, loved, and seen.

Without warning, his fingers brushed her lips, the pad of his thumb grazing the soft curve of her mouth. Her breath hitched slightly at the unexpected tenderness of the touch, her pulse quickening.

The sensation was gentle, yet electrifying, as if his touch alone sends sparks dancing across. He traced the outline of her bottom lip slowly, deliberately, as though memorizing its shape.

Luna's heart pounded, and she felt the world narrow to just the two of them at that moment. Jeonghan's fingers moved with an almost featherlight touch, teasing yet reverent. His eyes flicked from her lips back to her eyes, and without a word, he began leaning closer, his breath mingling with hers.

Just as his lips were about to capture hers, Luna ducked her head, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. Jeonghan paused, clearly confused, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand what had just happened.

"You seem to forget," Luna mumbled against his skin, her voice muffled, "that I'm sick."

Jeonghan blinked, his large hand instinctively finding its place at the nape of her neck. He gently pulled her back, cupping her face so she had no choice but to look at him again. "No, I didn't forget," he replied, his tone laced with quiet confidence as he leaned in once more.

But Luna swerved again, her hand shooting up to block him as she glared at him, eyes firm but still soft. "Han! You're gonna get sick," she scolded, her voice a mix of exasperation and concern.

Jeonghan's brow quirked upward in challenge, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. "Okay... and?" His eyes twinkled with amusement, clearly unconcerned.

Luna sighed, knowing this was a battle she was likely going to lose, but she pressed on. "Cheolie is gonna kill us both if we both end up sick— you know how he worries."

Jeonghan chuckled softly, clearly unimpressed by the argument. "It's worth the risk," he murmured, leaning in again to kiss her, but Luna pressed her palm against his chest, stopping him just short.

She was on her back now, and Jeonghan was sitting up over her, his arm braced on one side of her head, the other hand gripping hers firmly, yet gently. His touch was grounding, but there was a playfulness in his movements, a slow, deliberate tension in the way he held her still, his eyes never leaving hers.

"There's no guarantee I'll catch it, Nana-ya," he said softly, his voice low, the teasing lilt clear.

Luna bit her lip, shaking her head as her fingers curled against his chest. "Hannie— I can guarantee a hundred percent you'll catch it. It's already a risk that we're breathing the same air right now." Her eyes glinted with a mix of playfulness and worry as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer despite herself.

Jeonghan pouted dramatically, his expression boyish and unconvincing. "What makes you say that?" he asked, raising his brow as though daring her to argue further.

"Because you're you, Yoon Jeonghan," Luna retorted, her voice light, teasing. "You might have a weaker immune system than me." Her smile was cheeky, but her gaze was tender.

Jeonghan's jaw dropped in mock offense, his eyes narrowing as if deeply insulted.

"Says the girl who's already sick!" he shot back, his voice playfully accusatory.

"Exactly!" Luna exclaimed, triumphant. "Which is why you're gonna be a good boy and move to your side of the bed and leave the kisses to a minimum until I get bett–”

Her sentence was cut off abruptly as Jeonghan, with a swift and determined motion, cupped her neck with one hand and pulled her to him, capturing her lips in a kiss that left no room for protest. The warmth of his mouth on hers was intoxicating, the softness of his lips moving with an easy confidence that made her head spin.

Luna's defenses crumbled instantly. Her hands that had been pushing him away moments ago now gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as she melted into him.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, Jeonghan's lips moving against hers with a rhythm that left her breathless. He smiled against her mouth, his smirk felt more than seen, and it sent a thrill down her spine.

The sensation of his lips was dizzying, a perfect blend of softness and firmness, a touch that was both teasing and sure. It was like he was savoring the moment, dragging it out, knowing he had won this small victory.

Every movement, every shift of his mouth against hers felt like a carefully calculated move, designed to make her give in, and she was powerless to resist.

When they finally pulled away, Luna was speechless, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts as she tried to gather her thoughts. Her lips tingled, the remnants of the kiss lingering like a warm haze.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan leaned back slightly, a smug grin tugging at his lips, his eyes alight with amusement.

"Well," he began, his tone teasing and oh-so-condescending, "looks like someone didn't mind that too much." He winked at her, his voice dropping into a sing-song tone as he added in baby talk, "Aww, is my sick little Jiyeonie all flustered now?"

Luna gaped at him, still trying to recover, before shoving him playfully. "You're the worst," she muttered, though her voice lacked any real venom.

She couldn't deny it— he had won, and they both knew it.

Luna shook her head at Jeonghan’s smug expression, her chest still fluttering from the lingering kiss. “You’re absolutely insufferable, you know that?” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed any irritation she tried to muster.

Jeonghan let out a low chuckle, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mmm, but you love me for it,” he teased, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the intimate space between them.

She huffed, half-heartedly shoving him again, but this time her hand stayed on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I never said that,” she replied, her voice soft, and playful, though the affection in her eyes was impossible to hide.

“Didn’t need to.” His voice dropped to a near whisper, the teasing edge softening into something tender as he shifted slightly, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist. “It’s written all over your face, Jiyeonie.”

Luna felt her cheeks heat under his gaze, her usual quick wit failing her as she looked up at him. “Shut up,” she murmured, burying her face in his chest to avoid the intensity of his stare, though she couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her.

Jeonghan hummed in response, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head as his fingers began tracing soothing patterns on her back. “Mmm, whatever you want,” he whispered, his voice low and lazy now as if the teasing energy from before had melted into something softer, more intimate.

The conversation slowed, their words becoming fewer and farther between as they lay together, wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s presence. Their voices were no more than whispers in the quiet of the night, the sound of their breaths mingling with the gentle hum of the city outside.

“We still haven’t told the guys about us… been too busy,” Luna mumbled sleepily, her eyelids growing heavy as her head rested comfortably against Jeonghan’s chest.

Jeonghan smiled faintly, his fingers still lazily tracing over her skin. “We’ll figure it out. We always do,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lull in the quiet room.

“Hmm,” Luna hummed, her arms tightening slightly around him. “I don’t want you getting sick…”

Jeonghan’s lips brushed her forehead again, his voice barely audible as he whispered, “Nothing matters but you, Jiyeonie.”

There was something about the way Jeonghan said it— soft, sure as if it was the simplest truth in the world. The tenderness of the moment wrapped around them like a blanket, warm and safe, and Luna’s heart swelled in response.

“Don’t say that because I could say the same thing about you,” Luna whispered it out.

The words hung in the air, delicate and true, as the weight of the day began to pull them both under.

Jeonghan’s hand brushed through her hair, the same tender care present in every touch, every glance. It was the way he held her when the world became too much, the way he listened without needing words. It was the sweet nothings they exchanged, the unspoken promises, the quiet love that bloomed in the spaces between their conversations.

Their breathing fell into sync, the quiet rhythm of their bodies melding together in the shared silence. Jeonghan’s hand slowly stilled on her back, his thumb brushing against her side in slow, sleepy strokes. Luna’s eyelids fluttered, her mind drifting in and out of consciousness, her body relaxing fully into his embrace.

The warmth of Jeonghan’s presence, the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, grounded her as her breathing slowed, her body sinking deeper into the bed. Luna’s last thought before sleep took her was the gentle comfort of his arms around her, the soft press of his lips on her hair, and the way his fingers felt like home as they held her close.

The sincerity in his words wrapped around her like a blanket, and Luna knew— no matter how hard things got, no matter how overwhelming the world outside could be, here, with him, she would always be safe.

She would always be loved.

And in the quiet of that truth, she let herself finally surrender to sleep, knowing that in this moment, nothing else mattered but them.

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[holdmytesseract]

hi friend! 👋

I have a cute and fluffy request for the Baby Fever AU! 💕Narfi's first steps, Loki and Ella are out on a daddy-daughter date (you can choose where they're going) while Narfi and reader are at home together.

While reader has her attention on other tasks, little Narfi takes his first steps towards reader. When Loki and Ella returns home, reader surprises them with Narfi walking towards them 🥹💚

Growing Up

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N feat. Narfi & Ella

Summary: Narfi takes his first steps, causing you and Loki to realise that he's not so tiny anymore...

Warnings: fluff, fluff and even more fluff!

Word Count: 1,7k

a/n: I know it took me quite some time, friend, and I'm truly sorry for it. 🥺 Also, I really hope that you like it and that I did your request justice. Thank you again for the amazing moodboards you made for me, @chennqingg ! 💖

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Today felt like a pretty normal Thursday to you. Getting up at seven in the morning, making sure Ella got ready for school, while Loki prepared breakfast - bless him - and of course actually dropping your daughter off at school. Since you had 'Ella duty' this week, your husband tended to little Narfi and got the very young man dressed, fed and ready for the day. Sometimes, it was pretty chaotic and quite hectic. Especially on the days you were working as well - not full-time, though. You were still in maternity leave, but Nick allowed you to work two or even three days a week, if you needed a change of scenery or just a break. Just like today. Sure, Loki had to return to being an Avenger as well, but you always made it work. Besides, the others were happy to jump in as a babysitter as well.

After dropping Ella off at school, you drove straight to the SHIELD headquarters for work, leaving Narfi with Loki, who'd leave your son with auntie Nat for the rest of the morning, because Steve hated it, when Loki missed out the important briefings which concerned his 'development' as a resident of planet earth. Or in other words: Making sure he still behaved, didn't relapse and was a 'hero' and not a threat to humanity. In your eyes, it was ridiculous that he still had to 'prove himself' after all those years... After getting married and starting a family... After everything he had done for the Avengers, America and the whole world. But well... Who were you to speak up and change things? It was how it was.

Seven hours of going through reports and sorting files, you clocked out of work. Yes, it wasn't much you were doing, but it was something. Better than just staying at home. You loved being a mom, but sometimes you needed to see something different - and you were more than happy to rejoin your friends in hopefully near future and slip back inside your Avenger combat suit.

Instead of driving to school to pick up Ella, you drove back home. Loki had already done that; taking his princess out for a daddy-daughter date to the indoor swimming pool.

Arrived at the Avengers compound, you didn't even bother to drop your stuff first; instead heading immediately for Natasha's. Your motherly instincts were literally screaming at you by now to go see your baby son. So, you did.

Your best friend opened the door to her apartment for you with a huge smile and little Narfi on her arms; dressed in his white sweatpants and matching jumper. He looked like a baby smurf - which was probably one of the cutest things you had ever seen and would get certainly never tired of seeing again. "Mama!" Narfi squeaked happily from behind his pacifier as soon as his beautiful ruby eyes registered you; impatiently squirming in his auntie's arms. "Hiii, baby boy!" You smiled brightly and immediately took him into your arms. His adorable giggle urged to your ears; causing you to smooch his little cheek with kisses, and once you had thoroughly greeted your son, you turned your attention to the Black Widow leaning now against the door frame still with that smile on her lips.

"Hey, Nat." You shuffled closer to hug her, what the Russian beauty instantly reciprocated. "Hey, babes." "Thank you for looking after this little guy here," you said; pulling back from the hug and gently bouncing Narfi on your arm. Natasha shook her head. "No need to thank me. I love playing the cool auntie part." "I'll keep that in mind," you winked, causing your fellow Avenger to giggle.

"Alright. We'll be going then. Gotta do some chores... See you around, Nat." "Sure thing, babes."

You looked down at Narfi, who had snuggled against you; head buried in your neck. "Say bye bye to auntie Nat, Narfi." "Bye bye," babbled the little boy in a sweet, quiet voice; clearly on the verge of dozing off. Natasha smiled and waved at Narfi, "Bye bye, маленький смурф." who instantly lifted a small hand to wave back. Smiling and bidding your goodbye to the Black Widow as well, you pressed a kiss against your son's forehead and ran a hand through his black locks.

Back in the apartment, you put the toddler down for a nap on his beloved floor cushion - which he mostly preferred for a nap, instead of his bed. Now that your son was sleeping peacefully across the living room, you had the time to do some chores. On today's programme: folding laundry. So, you spread out on the sofa, switched on the TV - but kept the volume down, of course, and got to work.

From your position, you had the perfect view on Narfi as well; having an eye on him from time time. Unfortunately, that didn't always keep him from escaping your watchful gaze. Just like Ella, was he his father's child... Sneaky and definitely a tiny mischief maker. Not quite as much as his big sister, but nevertheless...

You could swear that you only didn't look at him for five minutes - and suddenly was the floor pillow empty.

Shit.

"Narfi?" You called through the living room; letting your eyes wander and already moved to stand up. He wasn't in this room anymore. You sighed and shook your head with a small smile. "Little rascal..." You mumbled under your breath and crossed the living room; aiming for the hallway.

The good thing was, that Narfi couldn't get far; not having learned how to walk just yet. The emphasis was on the word 'yet'.

You rounded the corner into the hallway, "Narfi?" and found your son standing - hands free - beside the clothes basket, which he had clearly used to pull himself on his feet. At the sound of his mama's voice, the toddler turned his head - which caused him to immediately lose balance and land on his small bum.

Your eyes widened. Was he about to take his first steps and you 'interrupted' him? "Baby, were you about to take your first step?" Narfi was already pulling himself up again; using the clothes basket as a help like before. A sweet huff left his small lips once he made it on his small feet; causing you to stifle a giggle.

"Try again, baby smurf, come on." Narfi turned on slightly wobbly legs towards you; hand gripping the basket for dear life. "Mama!" You smiled and walked quite a few steps closer, before you squatted down and opened your arms. "Yes, c'mere! Come to mama!" You tried to encourage Narfi; a bright smile on your lips.

The smile got even wider, when your son suddenly let go of his support - and took a very wobbly, unsteady step towards you. With you mouth agape, you giggled. "Yes! You did it, baby! C'mon! One more?" Your happiness infected Narfi and he smiled a bright, toothy smile. Giggling, he made another two fast and wobbly steps, before he lost his balance and more or less stumbled into your arms. You reached out and caught him, before he could hit the floor; sweeping him up in a hug.

"Yay!" You cheered and peppered his cerulean, chubby cheeks with kisses. "Mama is sooo proud of you, Narfi." The little boy just cooed and gurgled happily.

An idea crossed your mind.

"Let's surprise daddy and your big sister when they come home, huh? They'll be so happy to see you walk." Your toddler's eyes widened at your suggestion. "Supise dada lala?" Narfi couldn't say Ella yet, so he settled on 'Lala' - it was the cutest thing ever. You giggled; nodding. "Yes, baby smurf. Come on."

The laundry was long forgotten; deciding to play with Narfi instead and helping him practising to walk.

After a very successful daddy-daughter date at the indoor swimming pool, Loki and Ella returned back home in the evening to the Avengers compound. The little girl's hand was neatly tucked into her father's bigger one as they exited the elevator. Ella was definitely tired and worn out - just like it should be after such a day. That was most probably the reason why Loki was carrying not just his duffle bag in his free hand, but also Ella's pink Disney princesses rucksack on his back.

Together, they stepped down the hallway and into your family's apartment. "Darling?" Loki called out; taking off his shoes and helping his tired daughter to get out of her jacket. "Mommy? We're back!"

The pair heard a small voice along some shuffling, before you rounded the corner into the entrance area with Narfi walking in front of you; yet gripping tightly onto your pointer fingers. "Hey, you two," you greeted them happily. "The baby smurf and I have to show you something." Proudly, you let go of your son's small hands - and let him walk a few small, still wobbly step. Before he could topple over, you grabbed him quickly around his middle; holding him steady.

Both, Loki's and Ella's jaws were on the floor; not having anticipated this. Sure, Narfi had tried to walk now for days - probably weeks, but it looked like he needed some more time to learn... Apparently not.

"He is walking now!" A not-so tired anymore Ella squeaked and crawled forwards and clumsily, but lovingly hugged her little brother - who didn't quite understand why everyone was making such a big fuss. He just squeaked along happily.

Loki met your gaze; his beautiful blues shining with a few tears. "Darling, he... Our son is walking..." He whispered; visibly touched, but you heard him anyways. Ella was already helping Narfi back on his little feet; his hands in hers tightly as she helped him walk down the hallway. It gave you the opportunity to step over to your husband. With a smile, you slung your arms around his middle; invading his space. "I know, babe, I know." Loki laughed softly and tried to blink back the tears as he wrapped you up in a hug; strong arms keeping you locked against his tall, defined body.

"We have to watch out now, babe. Soon, he'll start to run," you stated with a giggle, causing Loki to shake his head. "By the Norns, please not. He's already growing up too fast..." You sighed; knew exactly how he felt - and he was right. You rested your head against his chest, giving your husband the opportunity to press a kiss on top of your head. "Mhm... Growing up too fast, just like Ella." You felt the god's chest vibrate with a hum. "Just like Ella..."

маленький смурф - little smurf

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @multifandom-worlds @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @huntedmusicgardenn @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @smolvenger @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @cakesandtom (Continuing in the comments)

[ladykailitha]

A Love Connection Part 2

Hey guys! Did you miss me? LOL!

Just a heads up this chapter is a little angsty because we have get Steve desperate enough to try going on a game show. But have no fear, it doesn't last long.

Also in this Susan Mayfield never marries Neil Hargrove, but she moves to Hawkins because her job moved her there. So Billy and Max aren't step-siblings.

Part 1

~

Steve nearly had a panic attack right there in the car when Chrissy screamed. There wasn’t a crisis. Or at least not one that needed immediate attention. What it was, was their little drunk text about #needsmoregays at A Love Connection went viral. There were actual fucking news articles. Yeah, the first was from Pink News, but the rest? Actual fucking trades. Variety, Dateline, even The Hollywood Reporter, for fuck’s sake.

Steve was going to pass out, but he managed to get them to the school safely. Thankfully there was nothing on Chrissy profile that was her real name or where she worked. She had a work Twitter for that. And that one was only on her computer at work. She was very careful not to cross the two. So there weren’t any news people out front of the school. But her DMs were filled with requests for comments or even actual interviews.

He decided she could do whatever the hell she wanted, he wasn’t going to get involved in this. She’s the one that drunk tweeted. Yeah, it was because of something he said when he was also drunk. But still!

He also decided ignore Chrissy and Robin at lunch, choosing instead to have it in his classroom to avoid them. Because, yes, he was avoiding them thank you. He just wanted to see gay people have love, too. Last Saturday was a disaster and he wanted proof that gays like he could find love.

Luckily, it was only a nine day wonder and Chrissy’s inbox went back to normal. Or as about as normal as one can get after have a tweet go viral.

They were cruising through the school year, same as always. There were always the super smart kids and the ones that didn’t care about history. So Steve always tried to make it as fun as possible.

Gladiator days where they wrestled stuff animals. Letting the kids stab him in March. Building their own mini pyramids. His hallpass was a gladius for extra fun.

They were gearing up the for Olympic games just before Christmas when Mrs. Byers, the principal pulled him out of his class.

“Hey, Steve,” she said warmly, “you’re not in trouble.”

Steve looked over his shoulder at his class before looking back at her. “Okay...”

She smiled up at him sweetly. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to watch the AV club today after school? Mr. Jenner went home because he’s puking his guts out. Normally I would just cancel, but a couple of the kids are in the club because their parents can’t pick them up until after seven.”

He let out a long sigh. He was going to go home and get ready to go try a new bar Chrissy had found. But now, by the time he got home, showered, and ate it would be too late to go out.

“Yeah, sure, Mrs. Byers,” he said.

“Thank you so much, Steve,” Mrs. Byers said. “Mr. Jenner will be so grateful too.”

Steve nodded and then waited until she walked away to roll his eyes. Nate Jenner’s alcohol problem was the worst kept secret in the school. Even students were aware that there were times he taught drunk. Most kids didn’t know why he would be slurring his words or conked out on his desk; only that they were his ‘bad days’. But the kids who did know? They tended to shield the other kids from the worst of it.

The problem was that Mr. Jenner was two years from retirement and they didn’t want to make him lose his pension. Which Steve thought that he absolutely should. That old coot had no business teaching students like that.

He went back to teaching his class, wondering who they got to cover Mr. Jenner’s classes. He finally got through to the last class and went to the science ‘wing’ of the school. He walked up to Mr. Jenner’s class room and there was Robin coming out of it.

“Now that’s just unfair,” he moaned. “If you were watching his classes, why couldn’t you watch the AV club?”

Robin patted him on the shoulder. “Because I played the dumb blonde routine until Mrs. Byers gave up.” She waved at him as she walked away.

With a sigh, Steve went into the room and began getting out the equipment that they would need. He didn’t know much about radios and shit, but he did know what they did and didn’t need.

He had just gotten set up when the first of the kids arrived.

He wasn’t surprised to see Will come in first. With his mom as principal, all of the teachers tended to tiptoe around him as to not have any ‘misdeeds’ taken back to her, so his last class never went over. Ever.

The next couple of kids to file in were Dustin Henderson and Lucas Sinclair. They both had Robin’s Spanish class last period, so it was no surprise to see them together.

“Sinclair!” Steve said, fist bumping the kid. “What are you doing with these nerds?” He was only joking and they all knew that. Lucas had been friends with Will, Dustin, and their other friend Mike since Dustin moved in in the second grade. Lucas loved history and was one of Steve’s brightest students so he liked to pick on him for his choice of friends.

“Sorry, Coach,” Lucas said with a grin, “if I wasn’t around they’d fall into an uncovered manhole or something.”

Steve gave Dustin their secret handshake, complete with death and everything to make up for the nerd comment. But Dustin and Will took it all in stride. They were used to the teasing.

A couple other kids came in. One spotted Steve and immediately walked back out.

“Some people just aren’t made for fun,” he lamented to the kid’s retreating back. “I’m just too cool for some people’s children. It’s not my fault.”

They all chuckled and then finally the last member of the AV club arrived. Mike Wheeler.

He sighed when he saw Steve, but didn’t turn around. He threw his backpack on the nearest desk and slumped into the chair with a heavy sigh. “Why can’t we get a teaching advisor who isn’t such a flake!”

Steve wiped his brow internally. Mike didn’t like him all the time, so the fact that he was complaining about Mr. Jenner not being there rather than Steve taking his place was a relief, honestly. It meant he wouldn’t be grumpy the whole time.

“All right everyone,” Steve said, clapping his hands together. “Dustin is in charge, Will will take notes for next time. Let’s go!”

The club went as well as could be expected considering Steve really didn’t have any idea of how all this stuff worked.

After class while Steve was waiting on the curb with the ‘Party’ as they called themselves, waiting for their parents to pick them up texting Robin and Chrissy.

“Coach...” Lucas asked, “did we ruin your plans?”

Steve felt a stab in his chest as his head shot up to look the kid in the eye. He looked down at his phone where there were dozens of messages bitching Robin out for leaving him with the AV club because she had a girlfriend and Steve didn’t even have that. Or boyfriend, which was his preference. He had dated women in the past but he liked men more. Or rather liked men full stop. That was certainly a revelation and a half.

He put his phone away with a sigh. “No, Lucas you didn’t. It was due to the irresponsible behavior of Mr. Jenner. He’s the one to blame. I was just a little annoyed at Miss Buckley because she knows this stuff better than I do, but got out of it under false pretenses.” His eyes cut to Will. “Don’t tell your mom I just said that. I don’t want Miss Buckley in trouble.”

Will held up his hands in surrender. Steve nodded.

“I love history and sports and swimming,” he began, he held up his hand to stall whatever words were going to come out that kid’s mouth. “For fun, Dustin. I like swimming for fun, which is why I didn’t include it in sports.”

Dustin huffed and crossed his arms over his chest with a pout.

“I like going out with friends and meeting new people,” Steve finished, “and of course I love teaching you kids. But I look around me and I just see someone who’s stagnated before he’s even thirty.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m telling a bunch of teenagers this. Sorry.”

Will put his hand in Steve’s. “You’ll find someone. If my mom can find someone at her age, you can find someone, too.”

Steve gave his hand a squeeze and didn’t point out that Mrs. Byers, Joyce had already had two kids and had been divorced by the time she was thirty so it really didn’t count.

Mike’s mom Karen arrived first. Mike just waved goodbye and slipped into the passenger side of her car.

Steve shook his head. Mike was trying to learn how to balance friends and liking girls and after school activities. He’d get there.

Dustin’s mom and Will’s older brother Jonathan arrived at the same time. Jonathan was Steve’s age, but Will have been born over a decade after him as a last ditch attempt to save his parents’ marriage.

Steve waved goodbye to them and then it was just Steve and Lucas.

“My mom always told me,” Lucas said softly, “that there might not be one person out there for everyone, but there is the right person out there for what you need right now. I think she was trying to explain why Mrs. Byers had two husbands, but I think it works for you, too. You’ll find you right person at the right time.”

Steve blinked down at this boy, barely thirteen. He rubbed the top of Lucas’s head. “Thanks, kid.”

Just then his dad pulled up. “Go on,” Steve murmured. “I’ll see you after the break.”

Lucas re-shouldered his backpack to just the one shoulder. He paused as if he wanted to say something else, he just shook his head.

“See you later, Coach!”

He got into his into dad’s car and immediately started talking to him about school excitedly.

Steve pulled his coat tighter around him. He wanted to be that dad, but as time wore on it was looking less and less likely. He went back inside to clean up and grab his stuff. He had a pile of assignments he had to grade. He never gave homework and never did tests. Both were pointless in his opinion, plus it meant that he less stuff to mark and grade. He based his grades off participation and being able to stay on task.

He walked through the darkened halls and felt the weight of it on his shoulders. His best friend and her girlfriend were out having the time of their lives, while he was alone in more ways than one.

He didn’t even Garfield to keep him company anymore. Yeah, he was just a stupid goldfish, but he was Steve’s.

The cold seeped into his bones and buried into his heart. He was even going to be alone for Christmas. Chrissy was taking Robin to her brother’s for the holiday. They felt bad because they both knew Steve’s parents had cut him off long ago and didn’t have anywhere else to go.

But he had encouraged Robin going. Meeting her girlfriend’s family was important. And with Chrissy and her brother, Peter both being estranged from their parents it was even more important than usual. They promised they would be back for New Year’s and Steve promised he would be fine.

He stepped onto the curb and stopped, tilting his head back, eyes closed as he fought back tears. When the first snowflake landed it made him flinch at the sudden extra coldness to his cheek. That one was followed by another and another. It was hell.

He opened his eyes and let the snow melt on his lashes, the cold mingling with his hot tears.

~

Tag List: SEVEN SLOTS OPEN

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- 9- @dreamercec @wheneverfeasible @garden-of-gay

[wanderingsoul6261]

Gif credit goes to scre6m

Tyler Owens x Reader

Synopsis: request fic done with "Blown Away" by Carrie Underwood on the brain. Reader is in an abusive marriage and Tyler finally comes to save her.

Warnings: mentions of abuse/degrading words, swearing, implied character death (not Y/N or Tyler) I think that's it. Let me know if I misses anything. I tried, so I'm sorry if it sucks.

Also not edited, so if there are mistakes, I'm sorry.

Y/N knew she wouldn't be able to hide it for long. She knew eventually that the wounds she wore, that spread across her body like vines, withering her soul away to nothing would give way to something. It was only a matter of time. Her excuses of being too clumsy would only hold up for so long. The split lips, black eyes, and bruises on her body would give way to a story in which people would shove their sympathies and self pity into her face. She didn't want it though. Y/N didn't want the attention, the spotlight. 

She could barely muster up the courage to be on the livestreams with the Wranglers, sitting in the back seat of the red beast that they rode into tornadoes often. Y/N almost grew envious of the truck, watching how well it was cared for and maintained, treated so well. She got barely half of that treatment at home. 

From her husband. 

Oh how doting he was when they first met, willing to bend over backward for her and give her the world. Love her as if she was the last one on Earth, looked at her as if no other woman existed. 

Then he ripped it out from underneath her, twisting a knife into her back at the same time. No matter how much she tried to reach for that knife, she couldn't reach it. She couldn't pull it out, no matter how badly she wanted to. 

But the only person who also seemingly caught on to how she felt was the very man that couldn't have her. 

One Mr. Tyler Owens. 

The man fell head over heels for her but while she was married, he couldn't do anything but watch from afar, appreciating her as a friend only because that was the only way he could have her. And for a while he was okay with that. 

Until he wasn’t.

He noticed the bruises. The split lips. The flinching whenever he or anyone else raised their hands above a certain threshold. Tyler was the one who broke down her door to get to her after finding out she was having a panic attack, the yelling outside the door from the variety of storm chasers overwhelming her. He held her while she slapped and clawed at him, begging him to let her go until she realized it wasn't her husband, and that she was okay. Tyler listened through the paper thin walls of the motel as her husband yelled at her through her phone speaker, calling her terrible names and treating her in a way that not ever, did a single person deserve. He listened as she had nightmares, wanting so desperately to help her, to hold her and reassure her. 

Tyler wanted to be the one to love her because he knew he could do it. 

Not her abusive husband. 

He wouldn't be a husband that kept constant tabs on her and limit her freedom, beating her when she disobeyed or tried to fight back. 

No. He would love her and care for her with every love sick bone in his body, because truly, all he lived for in this world, was her. 

Even if he couldn't have her. 

Even as he now raced towards her home, dead set in the path of EF4 Tornado, threatening to engulf every single thing in its path, including Tyler, Y/N and her abusive husband. He would save both of them, as much as he wished for him to be swept up by the storm and never seen again. 

Tyler had barely put the red beast he drove into park, before his boots hit the ground, his heart pounding in his throat as he called out. 

“Y/N! Y/H/N!” He raced towards the front entrance,hearing yelling and screaming coming from inside. Tyler held his breath, feet pounding up the steps to their home as he forced his way inside, the noises now louder as he tried to figure out where the sounds were coming from. The yelling and screaming echoed from the back of the house, completely forgetting the wind howling outside for a single moment. 

Then he saw her. 

Y/N came around the corner, trying to dodge something her husband threw. Tyler watched as whatever it was shattered against the wall, calling her name before he even realized what he was doing. Her head whipped in his direction, catching sight of him, and he watched as her eyes flooded with relief, before the booming voice of her husband filled the house. 

Y/N rushed towards Tyler, his hands capturing her tear soaked face in his hands, and oh how his heart broke for her. The redness on her cheek, likely from being slapped, along with a split lip. Bruises on her wrists where her husband forcibly held her. His calm resolve started to crumble as he continued to look at her, melting into anger. 

“Y/N. Get to your storm cellar now.” 

“What about you?” She asked. The wind outside grew louder, signaling their impending doom. 

“I'll be there. I promise.” as he spoke those words, her husband rounded the corner from the back of the house, catching sight of the two. 

“Who the hell are you? Have you been fucking my wife? Some fucking nerve to show up here.” He bellowed, advancing on the two. 

“Y/N! Go!” Tyler shoved her out of the way and towards the direction of her storm cellar. She hesitated for a split second, looking between the two men before she finally disappeared. 

“I always knew my wife was a whore. Fucking any man she seen.” Tyler watched as her husband closed the last few steps, the front screen door bursting open from the force of the winds outside. His eyes searched the room, finding an umbrella conveniently placed near the front door, and a split second he grabbed it, swinging it around and heard the destructive crack as he hit her husband upside the head. 

And he collapse to a heap, Tyler standing above him. His chest heaving with panic as he hesitated on what to do. Drag her husband down the stairs to the storm cellar, saving a life, or leave him, giving her a chance to be free from him, also effectively saving a life. 

“Tyler?!” Y/N's panicked cry came from below, spurring him to make a decision. He stepped over the crumpled body, dropping the umbrella and running through the house towards the storm cellar. Bursting his way inside, he made sure the door was sealed. Tyler made his way to her, his arms encasing her in a tight hold, his body covering hers as moments later the rumbling above them heightened, the noises outside growing impossibly louder as Y/N sobbed beneath him, tears soaking his shirt as she cried into his chest. 

Somehow, her crying was loudest, beating the storm that raged on above them. 

“It’s okay. I got you. You’re safe. It’s okay.” He repeated the words, the phrases becoming a mantra as the two of them spent the next several minutes in the cold and damp cellar, waiting out the raging tunnel of wind above them. And as he held her, whispering comforting words, his hand running through her hair in a soothing manner, he vowed that no one would find out about today. 

Her husband's death would be accidental, caught in the storm after he was unable to make it to safety. No one would ever find out that Tyler left him deliberately to die, to free them of his wrath and to save Y/N. 

She was safe, and maybe with time, Tyler could finally have her. 

Maybe he could finally have the chance to treat and love her the way that she deserved. 

[afterglowsainz]

don’t smile | franco colapinto

pairing: engineer!reader x franco colapinto

summary: after franco signs with williams to finish the 2024 season, your relationship takes a punch

fc: different girls from pinterest

a/n: as you can tell, i just love a good star-cross lovers trope

—

liked by yourusername, bizarrap and others

francolapinto i’ve had the happiest two years next to you amor, happy anniversary ❤️

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francolapinto i love you more, i’m the happiest man ever ❤️

liked by francolapinto, zak.osullivan and others

yourusername ready to make car number 2 go vroom vroom 🏎

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francolapinto the most talented (blue heart) (liked by yourusername)

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liked by yourusername, logansargeant and others

francolapinto imola was nice to me 🇮🇹

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yourusername THE SPRINT RACE WINNER 😭❤️🇮🇹

francolapinto ☺️☺️

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williamsracing vamos francooo 🇦🇷

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liked by bffusername, lilymhe and others

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liked by williamsracing, alex_albon and others

francolapinto a dream come true 🥹

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liked by bffusername, carmenmmundt and others

🔒yourusername in my short n’ sweet era 💋

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username no but don’t smile is a crazy song to relate to

username how awkward is it going to be working at the same place 😬

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bffusername lucky for you i’m also in my short n’ sweet era

yourusername twins!

[slaying-rxna]

Hello again, Rina! It's still me. I hope you passed your exams successfully and I think your writing is quite good, but I'd recommend you to use synonyms to avoid unnecessary repetitions. And I also want to ask you to write about Kinich and fem!reader getting caught in the rain, but instead of returning to the shelter, fem!reader starts dancing with him.

Dancing with the rain

➳Genre:Fluff

➳Trope:Kinich x fem!reader

➳Warnings:Idk just some pure cute fluff

➳Might be Ooc, I HC that Kinich hates the rain, might contain grammar mistakes

➳Word count:0.8k

People would view Kinich as unkind or cold. Yet you beg to differ when you know how kind he actually is, yet his companion isn't. Ajaw is quite an insufferable menace even you can tell. Yet the two of them are quite a good duo, one is silent as space while the other is much noisier than the screams of a thousand people.

So you were more than happy that Ajaw kept his mouth shut when the rain had its downpour during one of your outdoor date into the mountains. Knowing that he would just insult both of you for this supposed 'horrible' weather, but it's quite surprising that a rain would befall to natlan, managing to experience a downpour was very rare “I apologize, I should've known it would rain”

“Come, let's seek shel-” he attempted to walk keep you away from the rain yet he noticed that you only stared into the sky. The rain was violent, the sound of pitter-patter was loud. Not to mention both your shoes are wet. Yet with your smile you made the rain a placid downpour, a state of tranquility.

The kind man only gazed through you, never looking so surprised as he did now you looked perfect yet never had he expected that you would enjoy the rain. “Don't apologize” Your voice seeped through. Although both of you were quite drenched within the range of the stream, the couple could only stay in its place. Despite Kinich not liking the rain he still remained in his position with you. He could never leave you alone.

Noticing a smile from your lips Kinich stared at you with his greenish-yellow eyes “Do you like the rain?” Kinich questioned you, although he knows the answer that will come off from your mouth.

“I don't like the rain…I love the rain” you responded to his question. A gentle smile etched into your face. While Kinich stared at you, looking so happy. “How about you?”

Returning his question, looking at him with hopeful eyes. He hates the rain, the way it would wet his clothes was annoying how could you even ask him tha- “I like the rain too”

Chuckling at his answer, you reached out your arms inviting him. “Would you like to dance then?”

“A dance?” Kinich heard that couples would sometimes go out and enjoy the rain by dancing. Kinich can dance, although you've never seen him before Mualani had a conversation with you regarding dancing. While she said that he's very good at it.

Kinich gently accepted your offer by holding your inviting arms. As both of your hands unite, you're the one that started slowly. Stepping back with your right foot the two of you danced along the raging downpour. Although the chances of getting sick were absurdly high, you managed to seek comfort within its range.

Moving along with each flow, you looked like a divine angel under Kinich’s view. The way your body went along elegantly within each second. Although Kinich didn't show it through his face, he was more than happy to be with you.

Perhaps the rain didn't ruin your date, if anything it brought luck perhaps the two of you should start a rain date. Even if he came to hate the rain, if you're in it he can love it. Continuing the slow dance both the couple were happy. Twirling around him a flow of happiness washed through you, the rain slowly calmed down as if following the flow of your dance.

Following the climax, you came to forget all of your problems. The rain had never been more beautiful with him. His hair was quite messy yet he looked pretty handsome, like this.

As the dance came through an end, the wave of happiness was replaced with tiredness seeping through. Kinich brushed through your soaked hair “I never knew you can dance so elegantly, my angel” the man complimented you as the rain had come to an end.

While the rain finally ended, Kinich immediately suggested going back home since it was getting quite dark, and that the two of you could change your wet clothes. You agreed to his suggestions as your every walk made a droplet fall through the ground.

Reaching through the doors, Kinich instantly went inside first and grabbed a towel for you. As a small smile appeared into your tired body. Finishing your quick change, the first scent that greeted you was the smell of warm choco milk.

“Here, I figured you might get cold after experiencing such a heavy downfall” He spoke with such a gentle and worried voice. “Thank you, dear.” You grabbed the mug drinking the warm choco. It was hot yet not enough to cause a burn in your tongue. It wasn't too sweet either.

A beam of appreciation was shown into your smile, minding your own business, while he could only look at you lovingly. They say nobody was perfect, he believed it until he met you. He wouldn't mind embracing the things he loathed as long as he was with you.

===============================

Small note:Hello again ^^ thank you for your request alongside your suggestion, however it may appear again in the future as English isn't really my first language but I will try my best ^^. Apologies it came out quite late than I expected. But I hope you guys like this small drabble. My small brain ran out of ideas in the end.

Please do not translate or copy my work.

[captain-joongz]

Thinking about free use husband!Joshua…

Coming home to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind while he is cooking .. kissing his neck and shoulders and teasing him until he gets hard

Making him keep cooking while you start to touch him cruelly, praising and degrading him in the same breath

And he loves it, letting you do whatever you want to him, making him submit, even though he would do it willingly, this way makes his body shake, until he has to turn off everything and stop before he collapses on the floor…

Maybe this doesn’t make any sense, maybe it does, I cant really tell im too tired 😭

- ✨

(Btw you’re gonna get that job!!)

so sorry for the delay darling, i ended up taking a little break for dinner and a shower, but now i'm back and more ready than ever to tackle this delicious scenario~

and thank you for the encouragement! i honestly don't know how to feel about the interview today, but hopefully it didn't go completely awfully haha! i have another one tomorrow afternoon, so there's more awaiting ! but that one is for an english teacher, which i think should be perfect for me <3

here's your delicious little story ✨anon <3 and as always, hard hours continue and will continue for another week !!

warnings: cursing, marking, subby Shua, handjob, cumming in pants

ooooh now, Joshua is a little bit of a wild card, isn't he? i feel that he has a strong and easy-going enough personality that people would assume he'd like to naturally lead, but also there's this air of gentleness and prettiness about him that just screams "i'll let someone take care of me", not to mention that he's a sassy little bastard

so maybe he would sometimes brat out a little, have some cheeky remarks, but deep down he just loved submitting to you, especially when you came home all fired up from a long hard day at work. oh he'd know that you'd need to get your hands on him and unwind with the fierce aura of exhaustion and frustration enveloping you

he'd at least hoped he'd be able to finish the dinner he was preparing for the two of you, but then you were in the kitchen, wrapping your hands around him in a back-hug, smushing your face into his shoulder

"hard day?"

"oh god, you don't even know. janet from accounting is being a cunt again, it's crazy."

for a few moments the chatter between you flowed without interruption, you hanging off of him and loudly complaining about a coworker that's been making your life ten thousand times harder, and he'd started to relax and focused back onto cooking

but that's what you were waiting for

the second you could feel him untense in your hold, your hands started to wander. at first only slowly caressing his sides or across his tummy, touches that could easily be read as comfort, but then your hand strayed a little too up and pressed up on his nipple just as you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, both feeling and hearing his breath hitch under you

"baby..." he'd say breathlessly, trying to reprimand you but his body would already be heating up with the promises it came to understand from your hands

you wouldn't stop, for anything, busying yourself by leaving hot laving kisses to his neck and behind his ear, one hand carefully massaging his scalp and tugging at his hair while the other one slyly made its way under his t-shirt to tease his nipple without the barrier of clothing

you'd love the feeling of him tensing under you, his body going all high-strung when you'd press down on the stiff little peak and push it around with your lazy fingers, breaths leaving him in huffs and sighs every time you'd tug his hair a little harder

he'd still try to pretend to be fully focused on cooking, but it would all grow hazy in front of his eyes, his lids threatening to fall shut with every electrifying rush of lust and pleasure from your ministrations, and soon he'd start messing up - clumsy hands dropping the spoon, crushing the ingredients in his palms on every hard bite you distributed to his neck, and you'd chuckle at his plight

"what is it, baby? aren't you a little clumsy tonight?"

he'd huff at your words but say nothing, stubbornly trying to ignore you and your games - and that would only stoke your fire and provoke you into upping the ante

now sticking your both your hands under his clothes, one migrating to give attention to the other nipple while the second naughty hand travelled south until you were cupping his half-hard cock and punching a moan out of him

"Shua, baby, you're not paying attention to the food at all, i'm so disappointed. i was looking forward to your cooking all day, but you can't focus long enough to not burn it..."

"don't be so mean" he'd whine and you'd tsk at him

"is that any way to talk to me?" gripping him harder, you'd love the way he'd groan under you, hands abandoning the utensils to grip at the counter, but you'd quickly grab them and push them back to the pot

"go on, baby, cook for me if you want my praises"

and Joshua would give it a valiant try, he really would, stirring the food in little aborted motions while you rolled his nipples between your fingers and kissed at the bitten and marked skin of his neck, hand massaging and squeezing the growing bulge in his pants, and the kitchen would be full of the sounds of hissing cooking food and his little sighs and breathless moans

but he'd know it's game over town the moment your hand slipped into his pants and gripped his cock. the skin on skin contact was almost enough to send him crashing to the ground, knees buckling and knocking into each other with the surge of pleasure. and yeah, he definitely didn't even see what he was doing anymore, head tipped back and whines spilling out with every slow measured stroke on his cock

you'd see his hands shaking on the utensils, you'd see how he'd start losing focus, not moving them anymore, instead jerking his hips in tiny little circles to fuck into your hand - and of course you'd still him and tell him he needed to do better - and of course he'd moan at that, his cock jumping in excitement

"i c-can't, fuck, wanna cum please-" you'd recognise the tell tale signs he was close, the way he'd squeeze his eyes shut while his mouth fell open, the way his whines got more and more high-pitched and his hips shook as he supressed the need to pump them into the tightness of your fist

"go on, baby, you've been such a good boy for me"

and that would be all it took for him to frantically start turning the stove off, barely managing to catch onto the counter before the combined stimulation of you biting his ear and squeezing the tip of his throbbing cock sent him over the edge and he came in his pants, shaking in your arms with soft cries

Shua would turn to jelly in your embrace, barely even holding up on his own two feet while the half-cooked food cooled down on the stove, but it would be hard to pay attention to anything else except for his body thrumming with the release and the gentle kisses and praises you whispered into his lips for listening to you so well

divider by @cafekitsune

[wannabehockeygf]

hurt my feelings - elias petersson

part of the think later fic series

"She wears your number, but I got what you like, She's got you right now, but I'm still on your mind, I should've known better, You should've known better than me."

*** request: "I was wondering if you would be able to do an Elias Pettersson one? If not that’s fine, but if you do I would LOVE hurt my feelings with elias where he is in an open relationship and sleeping with the main character, but she’s in love with him yadayadayada. If you could do angst with a happy ending that would be great. Thank youuuu" summary: a more-than-stupid hookup has you feeling more than you thought it would. word count: 6k pairing: elias petersson x fem!reader warnings: nothing really, post-sex stuff? notes: - hi requester ty for waiting for so long for this. it's been in the making. - first petey fic! - not really proof read. - also the fact tate wrote this about a hockey player... cole sillinger u will always have fumbled. ***

Elias lifts his hips, pulling up a pair of sweatpants you’ve never seen in any picture of him, or anywhere else but when he’s with you. Which, admittedly, means you’re either in his car, at your dingy studio in Coal Harbour, or some other obscure spot for a quick fuck, just for him to leave right after.

You don’t want to feel this way. But the heart wants what it wants, and you want him.

Problem is, you can’t have him.

You watch him adjust his sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his hips, and feel the familiar ache in your chest, one you desperately try to ignore. His skin gleams under the dim light of the car’s dashboard, and the air inside is still thick with the heat of what you’ve just done, your clothes scattered near the passenger seat. But the warmth between you faded as soon as he reached for those pants.

The reality of it all starts to settle in, creeping up on you as you sit there, still trying to catch your breath. Your body’s exhausted, but your mind? It’s racing, swirling with all the things you don’t want to admit, not to yourself, and definitely not to him.

Elias, with his perfect nonchalance, runs a hand over the top of his head, his eyes scanning the fogged-up windows. His fingers drum against the steering wheel like it’s just another night, just another routine. And that’s what you hate the most—that it’s all so easy for him. He always makes it feel like it means nothing. Meanwhile, your heart is screaming at you to stop pretending it doesn’t.

“You want me to take you home?” His voice breaks the silence, casual, like he hadn’t just been inside you, like the intimate moments you share have no lasting weight.

You glance at him, a knot tightening in your stomach. The suggestion feels so transactional, like a one-way ticket out of his life until the next time he feels like doing this again. And you hate that you want the next time so badly.

“No,” you mutter, though your voice betrays you, shaky and unsure.

His brow lifts, a flicker of surprise, though he quickly masks it with that cool indifference. “No? You wanna stay here, or what?”

You hate how his tone makes it seem like you’re the one being unreasonable. You shift, pulling the hem of your shirt down to cover yourself, fighting the creeping embarrassment that always comes in these moments. “I just—” you hesitate, searching for words that won’t make you sound pathetic, needy. “I’m not some, like… some pit stop for you to get off and leave, Elias.”

He turns to you fully now, eyes narrowing slightly, the laid-back air around him thickening into something heavier. “What are you talking about? You knew what this was.”

Of course, you knew. You told yourself that over and over again, every time you ended up tangled in his sheets or here in his car. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less. “Yeah, I did,” you snap, the words sharper than you intended. “But I didn’t think it’d feel like this.”

“Like what?” His voice is calm, too calm, like he can’t understand why you’re spiraling.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the bitterness rising. You weren’t supposed to feel anything for him, right? That was the whole point. “Like I’m some backup plan until you’re bored again.” The confession hangs in the air between you, thick and unwelcome.

He exhales slowly, turning his gaze away, staring through the windshield into nothing. For a moment, it seems like he might say something to comfort you, to give you some semblance of reassurance. But instead, all you get is a quiet, “I never promised you anything.”

And there it is—his honesty, cutting deeper than you’d expected. You should respect him for it, for being upfront, but all it does is twist the knife in your chest. “I know you didn’t,” you whisper, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “But it still sucks.”

The car falls silent again, save for the hum of the engine, and for a moment, you wish you could just crawl out of your own skin and leave the feelings behind. Maybe then you wouldn’t care about how Elias is already emotionally checked out, like this was just another night, another body. Your body, for now, but never your heart. That wasn’t part of the deal. Yet here you are, feelings clawing their way to the surface no matter how hard you try to shove them down.

“Look, if you don’t wanna do this anymore, just say it.” His voice cuts through the silence, casual as ever, but this time it has a slight edge to it. Like you’re the one being unreasonable for having, god forbid, feelings. “I told you from the start, I’m not looking for anything serious.” He shifts in his seat, pulling his hoodie down over his chest like he’s already ready to move on with his night. “I thought you were cool with that.”

You feel the words hit like a punch to the gut, the weight of them sitting heavy in your stomach. Cool with that? You’re supposed to be cool with feeling like nothing more than a convenience? Like your body is something he can dip into whenever he feels like it and then discard just as quickly? You swallow hard, trying to push back the anger that’s rising, though your hands are already trembling in your lap.

“Yeah, well,” you start, your voice barely steady as you speak, “I thought I was too.” You pause, searching for the right words, but they won’t come. How can you explain something you don’t even fully understand? “But it doesn’t mean I want to feel like… like this.”

Elias shifts again, turning toward you, his brow furrowing in confusion. His fingers drum lightly on the steering wheel, the casual rhythm so at odds with the tension building in the air between you. “Like what? You’re acting like I’m doing something wrong.” His tone is laced with mild frustration, as if he genuinely can’t grasp why you’re spiraling. And maybe that’s what makes it worse—the fact that he doesn’t get it.

You look away, staring at the streaks of condensation on the window as your vision blurs with unshed tears. “Like I’m just a body to you,” you whisper, voice cracking. “Like you only want me when it’s convenient.” The vulnerability in your words makes your skin crawl, and you hate how pathetic you feel, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Elias lets out a long sigh, rubbing his hand over his face like you’re exhausting him. “I’m not trying to make you feel like shit,” he says, his tone softening, but the detachment is still there. “I told you from the beginning, I’m not gonna settle down. This is just… fun. You knew that.”

You know he’s trying to be reasonable, but it doesn’t matter. The words feel like salt in a wound, deepening the hurt that you’re so desperate to hide. Fun. That’s all it is to him. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m not asking you to settle down with me, Elias. I’m not fucking delusional,” you say, your voice rising despite your best efforts to stay calm. “But I’m not some fucking plaything either.”

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. “Jesus, you’re blowing this way out of proportion,” he says, his voice sharper now. “It’s not that deep. You’re making this into something it’s not.”

The dismissiveness in his tone makes your blood boil. You can feel the heat rising in your chest, a flush creeping up your neck as the anger takes hold. “Not that deep?” You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, you really don’t get it, do you?” You turn to face him, your eyes burning as you meet his gaze. “I’m not asking you for some fairytale relationship, but fuck, Elias, I deserve more than being your afterthought.”

He stares at you, expression hardening as your words hit. His jaw clenches slightly, the tension visible in the way his hands grip the steering wheel. “Again, you knew what this was,” he repeats, his voice low, controlled. “If you’re catching feelings, that’s on you. I didn’t ask for that.”

The coldness of his words stings, each one hitting like a slap. And you hate it—the fact that he’s right, that you’re the one who let your heart get involved in something that was never meant to go beyond the physical. But knowing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. “You don’t think I know that?” you shoot back, your voice shaking with anger. “I didn’t ask for it either. I didn’t want this. But it’s happening, and it fucking sucks.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You’re being ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “We agreed this was just sex. Nothing more.”

Ridiculous. The word echoes in your mind, bouncing around like a cruel reminder of how you’ve let yourself get here, feeling something for someone who can’t even give you an ounce of what you need. Your hands tremble, and you quickly shove them under your thighs, trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart in front of him.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’m ridiculous then,” you spit, the bitterness in your voice seeping into every word. You feel the tears threatening to spill over, but you blink them back, refusing to let him see just how much this is hurting you. “But I’m done with this. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Elias looks at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite read—anger? Frustration? Indifference? You can’t tell anymore. “Whatever. I’m taking you home.” ***

You sit on the edge of your bed, legs crossed, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow across the room. Your phone rests beside you, silent, no new notifications lighting up the screen. You've been staring at it for what feels like hours, waiting for something—anything—to distract you from the gnawing emptiness settling in your chest. But, of course, nothing comes.

With a frustrated sigh, you grab your phone, thumb hovering over Instagram, knowing full well what you're about to do to yourself. You shouldn't, you know that, but the temptation is too strong. Against your better judgment, you open the app and type her name into the search bar. Her profile pops up almost immediately. There she is—her.

Elias’ girlfriend.

You click on her latest post, a snapshot of her at Rogers Arena, grinning ear to ear, wearing his jersey like it’s a crown, her hands raised above her head in mock celebration. #CanucksWin, the caption reads, followed by a string of blue and green heart emojis. She looks so… happy, like she belongs there, like she’s the one who has his heart, his attention. And maybe she is.

Your chest tightens as you scroll through her feed. Picture after picture of her and Elias at games, on vacations, laughing together, looking every bit the perfect couple. There’s one of them at the beach—Elias, shirtless and grinning, his arm slung casually over her shoulders, while she looks up at him like he’s the only person in the world. That smile, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners... You know that smile. You've seen it before, but not like this. Not in a way that made you feel like you’d been given something special, something real.

No, with you, it’s different. It’s fleeting, temporary. You’re just a body to him, a release when he needs it. Nothing more.

You hate it. Hate how she looks so comfortable in his world, while you're stuck on the outside, desperately clawing at the edges, trying to convince yourself that you don’t want what she has. But you do. God, you do.

You toss your phone onto the bed, resisting the urge to scream. The jealousy burns in your throat, hot and bitter, swirling with a cocktail of self-loathing and frustration. You shouldn’t care. This wasn’t supposed to matter. But here you are, scrolling through his girlfriend’s Instagram, tearing yourself apart because she has what you can’t.

The thought of her being with him—touching him, laughing with him, wearing the #40 like it was hers—makes your skin crawl. And the worst part? You can’t stop thinking about it. You can’t stop thinking about her. About how she gets to have the part of him you’ll never touch. His heart. The part that matters.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, your fingers are already moving, dialing Elias’ number. It rings once, twice, and then you hear his voice on the other end, casual, indifferent.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, like he’s not surprised at all to hear from you.

Your heart thuds against your ribs, the jealousy bubbling up into your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “You busy?”

There’s a pause, and you can hear the faint sound of music in the background, a soft murmur of voices. “Yeah, kind of. I’m with—” He doesn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know who he’s with. The words are already twisting in your chest, like a knife being driven deeper with every syllable.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to… meet up,” you say, trying to sound casual, like you’re not affected by the fact that he’s with her right now. “You know, for a quick one.”

Elias lets out a soft chuckle, the sound grating against your nerves. “I can’t tonight,” he says, his voice smooth, unbothered. “I’m with my girl.”

The way he says it—my girl—makes your stomach churn. You clench your fists in your lap, nails digging into your palms as the anger simmers just beneath the surface. “Right,” you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant, but the bitterness seeps into your voice anyway. “Of course.”

You can practically hear his smirk through the phone. “Another time,” he says, like it’s no big deal. Like this is just a game to him, and you’re a piece he can move around whenever it suits him.

“Yeah,” you force out, teeth gritting. “Sure. Another time.”

You hang up before he can say anything else, before you can hear the sound of her laugh in the background, or worse—imagine them together. The thought is enough to make your skin prickle with jealousy, the heat rising in your chest, suffocating you.

Before you know it, you're grabbing your keys, slipping on your shoes, and heading out the door. You don’t even bother to think twice. You aren’t the type to back down, not when you want something. And right now, you want Elias. You want to prove to him, to yourself, that whatever he has with her doesn’t compare to what he has with you.

By the time you arrive at his ritzy apartment in Yaletown, your heart is pounding in your chest, nerves and adrenaline mixing together in a volatile cocktail. You stare at the building for a long moment, the reality of what you’re about to do settling in. You shouldn’t be here. You know you shouldn’t be here. But the jealousy is too strong, too consuming, and all you can think about is how badly you need to see him. Need him to see you.

So, you go up the elevator. Up to whatever floor you know he’s on, the one where you can see all of Vancouver in its expensive glory, and you knock.

You stand in front of his door, knuckles still tingling from the knock, heart thundering in your chest. The hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound your own shallow breaths as you wait for him to open the door. And when it finally swings open, there he is—Elias, standing in front of you, shirtless, skin gleaming like he’s been lounging around, maybe with her. The sight of him, so casual, so at ease, only makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

His eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice low but sharp, like he wasn’t expecting you, didn’t want you there. Behind him, you can hear the faint sound of a television, laughter that isn’t his. Her laugh.

Before you can respond, her voice floats from inside the apartment. “Eli? Who is it?”

Your heart clenches painfully, her voice piercing through the air like nails on a chalkboard. She sounds so… comfortable, like she belongs there. Like this is her place, her life, and you’re just an intruder.

Elias’ eyes flick to you, something unreadable passing over his face. He turns slightly, leaning into the doorframe as if shielding you from her view. “It’s nobody, älskling,” he calls back, his voice steady, but the dismissal hits you like a punch to the gut. Nobody. “Give me a minute.”

Your throat tightens as he steps into the hallway, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The distance between you is small, but it feels like a chasm. He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t reach for you. He just stands there, watching you with that same indifferent look, like you’re something to be dealt with, not someone he wants to see.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is low, but the edge is unmistakable. It stings. But not as much as the jealousy burning inside you, clawing its way up your throat. You swallow hard, trying to keep it together, trying not to let him see how close you are to breaking.

“I needed to see you,” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The truth of it tastes bitter on your tongue. You hate yourself for it, for how desperate you sound. For how desperate you are.

Elias sighs, rubbing his hand along his jaw, the muscles in his arm flexing as he does. You hate how your eyes follow the movement, how even now, when your heart is shattering, you still can’t stop wanting him. “You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, glancing back at the door like he’s afraid she might overhear. “You know I’m with her tonight.”

That word—her—sends another wave of anger crashing through you, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. “Yeah, I know you’re with her. I saw the Instagram posts. I saw everything.” Your voice cracks on the last word, betraying just how deep the jealousy runs, how much it hurts to see him with someone else, someone who isn’t you.

He frowns, his brows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw her at the game, wearing your jersey, looking so damn happy, like she has everything,” you spit, the words tumbling out faster than you can stop them. “Like she has you. And she does, doesn’t she?”

Elias’ face hardens, his jaw clenching as he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s because she’s my girlfriend,” he says quietly, the calmness in his voice making your stomach twist. “And you’re… not.” The words hit you like a slap in the face, knocking the air from your lungs. "You’re not." Two little words, but they’re enough to unravel the fragile composure you’ve been clinging to. Your entire body goes rigid as the weight of his indifference sinks in. It’s like being plunged into ice water—shocking, numbing, suffocating. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. What can you say? That you know you aren’t his girlfriend? That you know you don’t belong in his world, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise? That every second of this—of him—feels like borrowed time?

Your chest tightens, jealousy wrapping around your throat like a noose, squeezing until you can barely breathe. You try to swallow it down, to keep the rising panic at bay, but it’s too much. It’s all too much. The sight of him standing there, so cold, so unreachable, while just behind that door, she laughs, probably stretched out on his couch, wearing his jersey, living the life you want. The life you can never have.

Your hands tremble at your sides, and you press them into your thighs, trying to steady yourself. But your knees feel weak, like they might give out beneath you at any second. You hate this. You hate the jealousy coursing through your veins like poison, making you feel small, insignificant, pathetic. You hate how he can do this to you, how easily he can reduce you to this—a broken, jealous mess, standing in his hallway, trying not to fall apart.

“I… I don’t care,” you choke out, though the words taste like a lie. They hang between you, brittle and fragile, crumbling the second they leave your lips. Of course, you care. You care too much. That’s the problem. The jealousy claws at your chest, each breath shallow and ragged as you try to keep the dam from bursting. But it’s too late. The cracks are already there, spidering through your resolve, threatening to split wide open.

Elias just stares at you, his brow furrowed, like he doesn’t quite understand why you’re standing there in front of him, unraveling at the seams. He uncrosses his arms, his posture softening ever so slightly, but his face remains guarded. His silence only makes the jealousy gnaw harder at your insides, like it’s eating you alive from the inside out.

“Why are you with her?” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your pounding heartbeat. You hate how vulnerable you sound, hate the way your voice cracks, betraying just how much you’re hurting. But you can’t stop yourself. The words tumble out, desperate and raw, needing to understand. Needing him to say something that makes sense. “Why are you with her when… when you don’t even care about her the way you—” You cut yourself off, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. You can’t say it. You can’t admit it.

Elias’ gaze flicks to the floor, his expression shifting, something like guilt passing over his features. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, like he doesn’t know where to start. The hesitation sets your mind racing. The jealousy swirls around your thoughts, twisting every moment you’ve spent together into something ugly, something tainted. Has any of it been real? Or have you just been fooling yourself in your delusions all along? Is this really all you are to him—a temporary distraction, something to fill the empty spaces between him and her?

“I don’t know,” Elias finally mutters, his voice barely more than a sigh. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see something there, something deeper, something almost sorrowful. But then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar guarded look. “I just… I don’t know.”

The simplicity of his answer, the emptiness of it, sends a wave of frustration crashing over you, mixing with the jealousy already burning in your veins. “That’s it?” you snap, your voice rising, barely able to keep the tremor out of it. “You don’t know? You’re with her, you’ve been with her, but you don’t know why?”

You’re losing control. The words are tumbling out faster than you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy consumes you, feeding off every tiny piece of doubt, every flicker of uncertainty. You hate how much you want him to give you an answer, to explain why he’s with her and not you, why you’re standing here, outside his door, while she gets to be inside, living the life you’re so desperately clawing for.

“I—” Elias starts, his voice soft, almost apologetic, but you can’t let him finish.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” The question comes out more like an accusation, the jealousy twisting your insides, making you feel sick to your stomach. “That’s why you’re with her. Because you love her, and I’m just—” You swallow hard, the words catching in your throat. Just what? A fling? A mistake?

“I don’t—” Elias stops, running a hand across his jaw, his expression torn. He lets out a long, frustrated breath, his gaze darting back to the closed door, like he’s afraid she might hear. “It’s not like that,” he says, but his voice is quiet, hesitant, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself.

“Then what is it?” you demand, your voice shaking, barely able to keep the desperation at bay. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you fight the urge to cry, to scream, to do something other than stand there, unraveling. “Because it sure as hell seems like she has you. She’s got the jersey, she’s got the smile, she’s got the fucking Instagram posts—and what do I have? What the hell do I have, Elias?”

He stares at you, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking between you and the door, like he’s trying to figure out what to say, but can’t. The silence stretches between you, thick and suffocating, and you feel yourself breaking, the dam inside you cracking wide open.

“You can’t even say it, can you?” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back for so long. “You can’t even admit that you don’t care about her the way you—” You stop, choking on the words, unable to say what you so desperately want to hear.

Elias lets out another sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly, and for the first time, he looks tired. Tired of this, tired of you, tired of the mess you’ve both made of whatever this is. His eyes meet yours, and there’s something there—something almost sad. But it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he finally mutters, his voice low, almost resigned.

You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as the jealousy twists and tangles inside you, tightening its grip until it feels like you’re going to burst. “I want you to say you feel something,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Anything. Just… anything.”

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his face blank, his silence louder than any words he could have said. And that silence—it shatters you. It breaks you into pieces so small you don’t even know if you can put yourself back together again.

“I can’t do this,” you finally choke out, the tears you’ve been holding back for so long spilling over, hot and fast, burning as they slide down your cheeks. You swipe at them angrily, hating yourself for breaking in front of him, for letting him see just how much he’s destroyed you. But there’s no stopping it now. The dam has broken, and the jealousy, the hurt, the love—it all comes rushing out in a tidal wave of emotion you can’t control.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whisper again, your voice cracking, barely able to hold yourself together as you look up at him, your heart in pieces at his feet. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I love you, Elias. And I hate it. I fucking hate that I love you, and you can’t even—” You stop, choking on the sob that rips through you, your whole body trembling with the force of it.

Elias’ face softens, his brows drawing together in something that almost looks like regret, but it’s too late. You’re too far gone. You’re already falling apart, the jealousy and heartbreak swallowing you whole.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low, almost tender, but it only makes the pain worse. Because sorry isn’t enough. Sorry doesn’t fix anything. Sorry doesn’t make you her.

You shake your head, the tears blurring your vision, making it hard to see him. “Yeah,” you whisper, your voice hollow, broken. “Me too.”

*** The rain starts falling in steady sheets, drumming against the window as you sit curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV screen. The flickering images mean nothing, just background noise to the storm inside your mind. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been sitting there, wrapped in one of Elias’ old hoodies. The fabric is worn and soft, smelling faintly like him—like cedar and soap, like something familiar and heartbreaking all at once.

You hate that you still wear it. Hate that you can’t let go, even when you know you should. Even when you know it’s over. He chose her. He made that painfully clear, standing there in that hallway, his eyes darting between you and the door where she waited for him. And yet, here you are, clinging to the last scraps of him, like they could somehow make up for everything you’ve lost.

The rain blurs against the window, much like the tears you’re too tired to shed. You feel hollow now, emptied of all the anger, the jealousy, the heartbreak that consumed you. All that’s left is a dull ache, a quiet sorrow that settles deep in your chest, heavy and unmovable.

A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, sharp and unexpected in the quiet of your apartment. Your heart stutters in your chest, a flicker of hope igniting even though you tell yourself not to feel it. It can’t be him. It won’t be. And yet, as you stand and pad to the door, every step feels weighted with anticipation, your fingers trembling as they curl around the handle.

You open it to find Elias standing on the other side, the beanie on his head damp from the rain, droplets clinging to his jacket. He looks like he hasn’t slept, his eyes dark and tired, his expression unreadable as he stares at you in the dim light of the hallway.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything. You just stand there, your heart pounding in your ears, waiting for him to speak, to say something that would make sense of all this. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, like he’s seeing you for the first time, like the weight of his silence might crush you both.

“Can I come in?” he asks finally, his voice low, hesitant, as if he’s afraid of your answer.

You should say no. You should slam the door in his face, walk away, leave him standing there in the rain. But you don’t. Instead, you step aside, the words caught in your throat, and let him in.

He moves past you, his presence filling the small space with a tension you can feel in your bones. He stops in the middle of the room, glancing around like he’s searching for something, maybe the right words, maybe some kind of explanation. But all you can do is stand there, your hands gripping the hem of your hoodie, his hoodie, trying to steady yourself.

“I broke it off with her,” Elias says quietly, his back still to you, the words hanging in the air like they might shatter the second they leave his mouth.

You blink, your mind struggling to catch up with what he’s said. The rain beats harder against the window, filling the silence between you, a reminder of the storm both outside and within.

“What?” Your voice sounds foreign, small, like it isn’t even your own.

Elias turns slowly, his eyes meeting yours, and you see it then—the sorrow, the regret, the weight of everything that’s passed between you. He takes a step toward you, his movements cautious, like he’s not sure if you’ll let him get any closer.

“I broke it off with her,” he repeats, more firmly this time, his gaze steady, unwavering. “I know there was an agreement, but itt wasn’t fair to her. It wasn’t fair to you. I should’ve done it sooner, but… I was scared.”

Scared. That word echoes in your mind, bouncing off the walls of the tiny apartment, wrapping around you like a vise. What did he have to be scared of? He’s the one who had control, who made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for him to decide if you were worth saving.

“You hurt me,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, the rawness of the admission surprising even you.

“I know.” Elias steps closer, his hands slipping into his pockets, his posture uncertain, like he’s not sure what to do with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The apology should feel like relief. It should feel like something breaking free inside of you, but instead, it only makes the ache in your chest grow heavier. “You can’t just… say sorry and think it fixes everything,” you murmur, turning away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Elias doesn’t respond right away. The weight of his silence feels almost unbearable, pressing down on you like gravity. Then, after what feels like an eternity, you hear him take a deep breath, his footsteps soft on the floor as he moves closer.

“I know I can’t fix it,” he says quietly, his voice so soft it’s almost lost beneath the sound of the rain. “But I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind from your lungs. You turn slowly, meeting his gaze, searching for any hint of the indifference you’d seen before. But it’s not there. Not now. Now, his eyes are filled with something else, something raw and honest, something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I love you.” The words spill from his lips, quiet but sure, like he’s been holding them back for too long. “I love you, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize it. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Your chest tightens, a rush of emotions surging through you so fast you can barely process them. You want to believe him. You want to fall into his arms and let those words heal all the wounds he’s left behind. But the scars are still there, fresh and painful, a reminder of everything that came before.

“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears you held back earlier threaten to return.

Elias closes the distance between you in two quick steps, his hands reaching for yours. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through you, the familiarity of it both comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice low, desperate. “I’m not asking for everything. I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me. I need you to know that I choose you.”

You look up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. He chooses you. After everything, after all the hurt and confusion, he’s standing here now, choosing you. But is it enough?

His fingers tighten around yours, pulling you gently toward him until you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I know I don’t deserve another chance,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “But I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you, if you let me.”

After what feels like an eternity, you nod, a single, tentative movement. “Okay.”

Elias lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it in for hours, and without another word, he closes the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a way that feels both familiar and brand new. The warmth of him, the solid weight of his chest against yours, makes something inside you unclench, like you’re finally able to breathe again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against your skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you believe him. Finally.

[ariannag6-blog]

Enji in bed 18+ MDNI

How would Enji be in bed? Post+pre atonement arc. Here’s what I think.

I think how he would be sexually before and after his “atonement arc” would contrast each other quite a bit.

Reader notes:

2k words. Not an experienced writer just have lots of creative thoughts I must get out of my overfilled brain.

Warning. My pre atonement Enji headcannon is rough and aggressive obviously so please do not read this if it will upset you. Post atonement I actually think he’d be quite sweet. Feel free to just skip to the post atonement arc Enji part if you prefer.

You can find all my Enji stories under the hashtag EnjiAria

During marrige-pre atonement:

Kinks. He most definitely probably has breeding kink and is rough. Definitely also has a “daddy”or “yes sir” name calling kink. He probably likes degrading his partner a bit in bed as well. Has a dacryphilia kink. Power imbalance kink. During his younger years/before his marriage becomes estranged he likes degrading.

Enji never liked to show his anger outside of his own home. He would often come home with pent up anger from his hero work and needed someone to take it out on. He usually liked relieving his stress sexually with Rei. Enji likes to start out being rough, then make you cum, then end with roughness again. He’ll start out fucking her roughly, not letting her have time to adjust to his length or girth, hearing her scream as he thrusted too fast and too deep for her. Pressing down on her back (if she was on her stomach) or hips (if she was on her back) to hold her in place. Watching tears form as she desperately tried to take him. He basked in her pain. He was also very experienced and always knew how to make a woman finish. Though it is no lie he does like quite a bit of pain and aggression he will never finish a session without making his partner cum. If they don’t cum he’ll get angry and threaten punishment such as relentless face fucking or anal. After he can tell she’s submitted to him by letting him roughy have his way with their hole he’ll reward his partner with an orgasm. He’s good with his fingers. He’ll still pound into his partner roughly but use his fingers to trace circles over your clit to make you cum. He doesn’t go gently, he works at a rough pace with pressure. He loves overstimulating his woman. He wants you to cum fast. As you cum he likes to grab your throat and make you tell him who your pussy belongs to, who your body belongs to, who owns you. Once you’ve finished he picks back up his pace. Balls deep slapping against you relentlessly. He’ll continue this pace, slap your ass and pull your hair until he finishes. As he fills you up he’ll tell you how perfect you are to breed. Once he finishes he’ll leave you there on the bed and go about his day with less stress now.

His dirty talk pre atonement era:

“You look so good carrying my children, it shows me who you belong to. You belong to me.”

“Take it, I’m going to keep giving you babies over and over again until your body breaks.”

“Crying already? You say you can’t take it but you always end up cumming so hard from this. You’re so filthy. You love it when I show you who you belong to don’t you.”

“That’s it, take it. Rip that cunt open on my cock. Let me breed you.”

“You’re such a worthless whore the least you can do is give me this.”

“I always love breaking you in.”

“Shh stop screaming it’ll only make daddy go harder.”

“If you don’t cum on me right now I’ll fuck your other hole and I’m not talking about your throat sweetheart.”

“You should thank me for getting you pregnant”

Outside of the sex he still liked intimidating his wife. Making sure she knew where she stood. Gripping her arm tightly when she displeased him. Not allowing her to leave the house or wear certain clothing. Watching her obey him out of fear turned him on. It always made him hard and she knew it. She could see it. (Later in life he definitely regrets enjoying that.)

Though he was not a good person in his younger years I don’t see him cheating at all oddly. I think he would be loyal and use his wife for sex only. He seems old fashioned I don’t think he would use toys for himself or for his partner. At most he might like tying her hands or her mouth with his work tie. He would also probably forbid his wife from touching herself sexually, wanting himself to be the only one to give her pleasure or pain. He wanted this for a few reasons, he was possessive and insecure she wasn’t allowed to think of anything but him. He also wanted her to always be able to get wet easily whenever he needed to relieve stress, get off, or breed her, he feared if she pleasured herself on her own she wouldn’t be able to take him as easily. If he ever found out she touched herself he punished her by bending her over his knee and spanking until she was in tears. Then making her get on her knees to apologize profusely before ordering her to suck him dry.

Hear me out…I’m so sorry but I feel like he’s obsessed with receiving rimming. Especially when he’s too exhausted to do too much to you. He would love just laying back gripping his fingers in your hair guiding your tongue over his ass while his legs are spread open. Or closing his thighs berrying your face in him causing you to go deeper into his ass.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Post atonement era Enji:

First off he most definitely immediately got divorced. He felt immense regret for how he treated his wife and wants her free from him. He still holds love for her. He was never in love with her but he wants her to be happy he can’t move on and grow if they are still together either he fears it would make him revert back to his old ways. He built a new home for Rei and his kids to live in. He has as little contact with them as possible for their own sakes. He does his best to continue his growth in every way he can..including sexual.

Outside of marriage after the divorce Enji is gentle, sweet, no breeding kink but still very dominate.

Kinks. Praising, overstimulation.

Dacryphilia kink. (From pleasure not pain)

Caretaking/caregiving. Daddy kink.(not age play just likes taking care of you. By daddy kink I mean the name calling again not age play.)

His type. To me he doesn’t have a spesific type but prefers women smaller than him, tan skin, small or average chest, long hair. Being smaller than him Isn’t hard bc he’s big so almost everyone is smaller than him. If not that exact description he at the very least just prefers women with long soft hair. I could see him taking a liking to both submissive and dominate women but would prefer someone who’s a submissive bottom. Though he doesn’t like being as aggressive in the bedroom anymore he prefers to be the one doing all the work, the one pleasing his woman.

He does not want you to do anything to him. Sucking his dick, rimming, trying to make him come if you’re already finished. He wants everything to be about you. If you want to suck his dick or more you’ll have to beg him. He’ll allow it but only if he can see that you’re getting just as much or more enjoyment out of it than him.

He has deep regrets for how rough he was with Rei’s body. As a way to atone for that in his mind he wants to treat his current partner gently. He’s insecure he doesn’t know his own strength in bed, he’s not used to being gentle. Has to have you watching him at all times especially when he’s eating you out he needs to see your face to make sure he’s going a good enough of a job. He needs your approval constantly weather that be through words, moans of pleasure, or your eyes, anything to let him know he’s giving you nothing but pleasure. He would grow to be quite the pleasure dom in his old age. He needs you to cum constantly. He will always make you cum first. He LOVES overstimulating you, making you cum over and over again until you tell him it’s too much. He feels as though he doesn’t deserve to cum after everything he’s done. He would much rather make you cum, it’s enough to satisfy him mentally. Physically that’s a different story. But I do see him liking not finishing. It makes him feel like he’s edging himself and being good for not cuming because it should all be about you anyways.

I see him being with someone quite inexperienced who often can’t handle him going very long or deep so he’ll often not finish. He doesn’t want to finish by himself as he feels like it’s disrespectful to you so he’ll constantly edge himself for days from watching you feel pleasure until he’s finally at his breaking point and can finish as fast as you. He’ll still always make you cum first though.

After his divorce he immediately got a vasectomy he’s too scared of ever having kids again. He still loves filling you with his cum. He’s never used condoms and doesn’t like them. If you want kids he’ll decline but he will roleplay breeding you if you want.

Though he wants to be more gentle now he’s still slightly kinky. He still loves name calling “yes sir” “daddy”. He enjoys making you cry out of pleasure from cumming too much or out of pleasure from him being the first one to make you squirt. He loves light choking, gentle slaps, but nothing that will actually ever hurt you. He’s always constantly looking at your face to make sure you smirk or bite your lip after each slap to assure him that he didn’t go too rough. Dispite his fear that he’ll be too rough he’s actually is a lot more gentle with his partner than he realizes. His touches are so soft and gentle they wouldn’t so much as break an egg yolk. But because his partner is inexperienced they prefer this gentle edge to him. Being with someone inexperienced in my opinion would be a good fit. They wouldn’t push his limits by asking him to go rougher or trying kinkier things. He always fears loosing control and reverting back to his old self. Being with someone who needs him to always be slow and soft will keep him in place and help further his progress.

If his partner was a top he would allow you to have your way with him sometimes but ultimately at the end he would be right back on top of you fucking you on your back. I see him trying to be a bottom to please you but at the end of the day failing because being a top-dom is just in his nature.

Dirty talk post atonement:

“That’s it come on my fingers sweetheart I need to taste you after.”

“You taste so sweet. I can’t get enough. Think I can make you cum a 3rd time baby?”

“Shh let me do everything don’t you think about doing anything for me. Watching you cum is all I need I promise.”

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock sweetheart you’re spoiling daddy with this cunt.”

“Let me fill you up you deserve it after cumming so good for me sweetie.”

“Shh don’t worry daddy won’t go all the way in, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll go easy. Gentle. I promise.”

“Look at me, keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop licking your pussy.”

“Tsk tsk sweetheart look at me if you want me to keep thrusting. I need to see it in your eyes that I’m doing good.”

“Is it too much? Tell me when you’ve had enough and I’ll stop.”

“Is this okay? Yeah sweetheart…right there? Like that?”

He would ask you not to touch yourself without him. He wouldn’t forbid it. He just wants you to come to him to feel pleasure. He would feel like he’s not doing enough if you feel like you have to use other methods to finish instead of waiting to use his body.

He’s old fashioned so he wouldn’t prefer using toys. Definitely not on himself. He wants you to be able to get you off with his body. Cock, fingers, tongue, nose tracing up and down your clit, anything. He would feel like he’s inadequate if he has to resort to toys to get you off. On the other hand if you wanted him to use toys on you or you using toys on him he wouldn’t decline. He’s wrapped around your finger he would basically do anything you asked no matter what it was.

Outside the bedroom. Preferred to be the provider. Enji loves to spoil you. He doesn’t want you to worry about anything, he has more money than he’s able to spend he would want to spend on you asking you to quit work and just do whatever you want. He wants to see you happy as much as he can. To be honest he does always tend to prefer a domestic relationship him being the provider and you being the homemaker but if he meets someone career oriented he will support them working. Just seeing you happy will turn him on mentally.

I don’t see him getting married again. If he got into another relationship he wouldn’t be expecting it or feel deserving of it. I think his next partner would be serious and life long (unless they ended it I couldn’t see him being the one to break it off) but at the end of the day he would be too worried getting married would make you feel trapped. Ending up being with him for the sake of ease instead of want. He wants you to constantly choose him everyday and not be forced to stay. It’ll reassure him that he’s still making progress.

[rainforestakiie]

Sinner Adam is a trope that i love and I know you would handle it AMAZING, so what do You thing???

hi!

i struggled a lot with this because i didn't know what to write! ahhh! i also wanted to try something new that hasn't been done before, though i did use one known trope. but i hope it's not too bad!

i tried to write something different with sinner adam.

i really hope you like it, and thank you so much for the wonderful request! it was so fun to write!

also, for the full experience, please listen to 'the ballad of the witches' road' from agatha all along! i was listening to this while writing, and it made it so chilling!

The Acedia of Hell

The first thing Adam heard as he drifted toward consciousness was a faint crackling, like a thousand whispered secrets swirling just above his head. He flinched, instinctively recoiling from the sound, but it only grew louder, wrapping itself around him until it became a relentless drumming in his ears.

An ache began to creep along his back, first a subtle tingle, then swelling into a searing, acid-like burn. It started between his shoulder blades, coiling down his spine in a twisted agony that made his entire body tremble. His chest constricted, as though his heart had been crushed and was now struggling to inflate, each beat an effort, each breath a torment. His skin twitched, and a chill raced through him, sharp enough to raise every hair on his body, as if some unseen force was raking icy fingers across his flesh.

Inside him, something stirred—an eerie, swelling pressure, like a bubble forming deep within his chest. It started small, like the delicate bubbles children blow in the wind, then grew, expanding into the size of a birthday balloon, then larger still, as though a hot air balloon were inflating inside him, until it became a blimp of overwhelming pressure, straining to escape. And finally, with a violent eruption, his throat opened, and Adam gasped sharply, his eyes, swollen and raw, wrenching open. A torrent of hacking coughs tore from his chest, each one sending fresh pain rippling through him.

His body convulsed, and with a grimace, Adam spat out thick, blue liquid. He collapsed onto his elbows, his back blazing with even fiercer agony, as though his spine were splitting apart. He wheezed, vision blurring, trembling hands pressing against the slick, waxy surface of the red stones beneath him. His lips parted in a desperate attempt to scream, but instead, a sudden gush of the brilliant blue fluid burst forth, staining the crimson ground beneath him in striking shades of despair—a beautiful, sorrowful blue, spreading like an ethereal bloom.

More of the thick, otherworldly liquid streamed down his face as Adam continued to cough and choke, his chest aflame. The golden essence of his blood, once radiant and divine, began to glow with an unnatural hue, shifting to match the eerie, silver-blue shade he was vomiting. It pulsed beneath his skin, transforming, until the ethereal silver - blue coursed through his veins, as if his very soul had been overtaken by the same haunting colour he was now expelling.

Adam sucked in a ragged breath, the crackling still weaving through the thick, oppressive air, a relentless whisper just beyond his senses. His mind teetered on the edge of darkness, desperate for the release of unconsciousness, but each time it began to drift, the sharp stab of pain wrenched him back into this torturous reality.

He squinted through the haze, trying and failing to clear his vision, his hands trembling uncontrollably. His back arched, and with a gasp of agony, he could feel it—his spine, as if it were trying to tear free from his skin. His mouth opened in a desperate cry, but his body was already curling in on itself, shaking violently as he pressed his forehead to the slick, waxy ground beneath him. The crackling grew louder, and behind him, a new sound emerged—horrific snapping and tearing—but Adam couldn’t bring himself to look. Fear rooted him in place, afraid of what he might find if he dared to turn his head.

With a trembling breath, Adam stretched out a weak, shaking arm, fingers barely able to grasp at the air as his vision swam, the world blurring with blinding streaks of silver and blue. “H-help…” he tried to call out, but his voice was broken, twisted into something unrecognizable. He wasn’t even sure if he had spoken at all.

Through the haze, a faint glimmer of golden light caught his eye—a figure, bathed in white, stepping toward him, with another taller, draped in deep crimson, following close behind. Adam’s heart leaped in fragile hope—someone had heard him. Someone was coming to help. But even that thought was quickly drowned out by the relentless cracking that now roared in his ears, and exhaustion crushed down upon him like a tidal wave.

It wasn’t fair.

A soft whimper escaped his lips as he began to let his arm fall, surrendering to the pull of oblivion. But before it could hit the ground, warm hands wrapped around his trembling fingers, catching him. The touch burned, searing against his skin, yet Adam couldn’t summon the strength to pull away. It stung, this connection—more than he could bear—but his body refused to obey his silent cries to escape.

Voices murmured above him, too distant, too distorted to comprehend. He thought he heard his name, thought someone was calling for him, but the pain, the exhaustion, drowned out everything else. He sobbed weakly, shaking his head as if to dislodge the agony, before sinking toward the ground again, surrendering to the waxy surface beneath him, craving nothing but the embrace of sleep.

"Why..." he whispered, or at least he thought he did. His voice was so faint, so lost. "I wish I were dead. I don’t want this anymore... I’m so tired..."

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him, strong and unyielding, lifting him before he could collapse back down. His face was pressed against a chest, and the sting of their touch flared through his nerves. He tried to resist, weakly pushing against them, but their hold was too tight, too firm. There was no escape.

And yet, as the warmth of their embrace held him fast, Adam felt something strange—an unspoken promise, a tether keeping him from falling into the darkness. But even in that moment, all he could think of was the unbearable weight of it all.

The pain. The exhaustion. And the whispered wish that it would just... end.

“I want to be dead.”

~#~

The next time Adam drifted into consciousness, the world around him felt strange, unfamiliar—like something from a dream that still clung to the edges of his mind. He was so tired, so utterly exhausted, and his entire body was wrapped in a deep, aching soreness that refused to fade. Every muscle, every inch of skin felt foreign to him, as though it didn’t quite belong.

Slowly, he forced his heavy eyes open, blinking as he stared up at the draped curtains hanging above him. He didn’t move, feeling as if he were both too heavy and too light at once, trapped in a body that no longer obeyed him. The soft, purple folds of fabric gathered between the four towering posts of a massive bed.

A bed. He was lying in a bed—one so vast, it made him feel small, which shouldn’t have been possible. Adam was over ten feet tall, yet here, he felt dwarfed.

His eyes fluttered closed again as he took a shaky breath, his chest trembling with the effort. It hurt, a searing pain that ran through his lungs as though he wasn’t meant to breathe like this anymore. He focused on the rhythm of his breathing, hoping the sensation would pass, but instead, it worsened. A sharp throb flared at the top of his skull, a maddening itch that grew with every beat of his heart. Panic flickered through him like a match struck in the darkness.

What was happening to him? Why was everything wrong? Where was he? Why did everything burn with such unbearable intensity?

His thoughts spiraled, and flashes of memory crashed over him like waves. The war. He had led an army—against Hell. No, not just Hell, but the Princess of Hell herself. The spoiled, naive fool who had no idea of the devastation she was courting. He had wanted to stop her, to make her see the consequences of what she was about to unleash on Heaven, on the Winners. The survivors.

Adam’s pulse quickened. Did no one truly understand what the Winners of Heaven were? They weren't just the righteous, the pure, the souls who followed God’s plan. No, the Winners were the survivors of unspeakable torment—humans who had endured hell on Earth and deserved peace. That was the essence of Heaven, the sanctuary for those who had suffered beyond reason. And the Princess of Hell, in her misguided quest for redemption, was threatening to undo it all. If she succeeded in redeeming a Sinner, what would happen? How would the Winners react?

Adam shuddered at the thought. The Winners weren’t just passive souls—they were warriors, survivors of the darkest trials. They had a power unlike anything even Heaven fully understood. And if they unleashed that power, it wouldn’t just be Hell that suffered. Heaven itself would be torn apart.

Lucifer.

Adam’s jaw clenched at the thought of that arrogant demon. The Morningstar had no idea what was truly at stake, what Heaven truly represented. He had humiliated Adam, beaten him, all because Adam had dared to protect the survivors—those who had suffered at the hands of their abusers. If the Princess succeeded, her reckless actions would incite a chaos neither Hell nor Heaven was prepared for.

And yet... Adam had failed. He had been defeated. During battle, someone—he couldn’t remember who—had snuck up behind him and struck the final blow. But it wasn’t just that. Lucifer had already broken him, leaving him weakened, humiliated. His death, when it came, had been almost a relief.

He had welcomed it.

Adam’s eyes snapped open. His vision was blurry, the world around him swimming in shades of red and purple. He blinked hard, trying to make sense of the shapes and shadows, but his heart sank as realization dawned. Those colours—those curtains—he knew where he was. And the truth was unbearable.

No... no, this can’t be.  He couldn’t accept it.

Panic surged through him, and with a desperate grunt, Adam began to wriggle beneath the heavy quilts that pinned him down like chains. Every movement sent searing pain through his body, his muscles protesting as if they had been stripped raw. His chest heaved with the effort, and it felt like he was dragging something impossibly heavy along with him, a weight that wasn’t his but clung to his very soul.

With trembling arms, he forced himself up, biting back a scream as his body burned with every inch he moved. It felt like a monumental struggle just to sit upright, the heavy air pressing down on him as though the room itself conspired to keep him immobile. His hands clutched at the silken sheets, knuckles white as the realization clawed at his mind.

He was back in Hell.

And it was only the beginning of something far worse.

Dragging himself to the edge of the colossal bed, Adam twisted awkwardly, his body giving out before he could brace himself, collapsing heavily onto the cold floor. A sickening crack echoed through the room, and something inside him wrenched, unfamiliar and raw. Panic flooded his chest. He had to move—now. He had to escape before someone found him, before they came to see if he was still broken, still helpless.

How long had he been unconscious?

It didn’t matter. He had to get away before something else was taken from him, before he was humiliated again. The shame was already too much, a suffocating weight on his soul. He couldn’t bear it. Not again. It was always him—always Adam who crumbled under the boots of others. Always the one who was stepped on, laughed at, torn apart.

But not this time.

Not yet. Not so soon after... his death. Why was he still here? Why was he still trapped in this existence when he should have been freed? It wasn’t fair.

Adam’s limbs trembled violently as he struggled to move, but his body refused to obey. His arms and legs felt distant, alien—completely unresponsive. His feet wouldn’t lift him; his hands collapsed beneath his weight. The dark mist crept at the corners of his vision, curling like smoke around his consciousness.

Why?

His body had betrayed him. His strength had deserted him, leaving him defenseless, pathetic, like prey waiting for the predator’s strike. He couldn’t be here—not like this, not when he was so weak. The moment they found him, they would break him again, humiliate him, tear him apart.

Why? Why? Why?

"Adam!" A voice, frantic and sharp, called out from behind him, cutting through the fog clouding his mind. It came from the other side of the bed, filled with panic.

Adam’s chest felt as though it was about to shatter. His head spun wildly as he turned toward the voice, his blurred vision struggling to focus on the figure rushing toward him. His eyes widened in shock, his jaw slack. His arms shook violently as they tried to hold him upright, but he must have looked pathetic—a trembling, broken creature hunched awkwardly on the floor, freezing and disoriented.

The figure in white drew closer, their movements rapid and purposeful, but Adam barely registered them. All he could feel was the cold consuming him, seeping into his bones. Another figure lingered at the doorway, and a third stood on the other side of the bed, watching him intently.

His mouth opened, but the scream that ripped from his throat didn’t sound like his own. It was a raw, primal sound, something more beast than man—an unearthly shriek that echoed through the room, leaving Adam stunned. The others recoiled, their hands flying to their ears as the sound shattered the stillness. The figure in white froze mid-step, shocked by the inhuman scream.

But Adam wasn’t finished. Something was unfurling behind him, stretching out on either side of his trembling body. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t care. All he could see was the familiar shimmer of silver and blue, lightning-bright streaks zipping through the air as the energy expanded from him. It spread from his knees, seeping into the ground beneath him, forming a perfect, glowing pentagram.

"Adam!" the one in white yelled again, reaching out desperately. "Stop!"

But Adam could barely hear them over the roar in his mind, his own voice breaking through the madness as another scream tore from his throat.

"Why am I still alive?!"

The words echoed in the room, a question as desperate as it was furious, and then the world around him erupted in a blinding storm of silver and blue. Light filled every corner, obliterating the darkness, until finally, everything collapsed.

Silence descended.

Adam crumpled to the ground outside, his body curling tightly as the last of his strength drained away. His mind drifted toward the edges of consciousness, a peaceful emptiness overtaking the pain.

At least it was quiet here, in the stillness of oblivion.

Maybe now, at last... he could die.

~#~

Waking once more, Adam’s eyes bled silver and blue, the ethereal liquid streaking down his face like tears from another realm. Death had eluded him again, cruel and mocking, leaving him tethered to the world he so desperately wished to leave behind. He was alive—still breathing, still suffering. His soul ached for release, for the finality that would never come. Exhaustion clung to him like a shroud, each heartbeat a reminder of the torment he could not escape. All he wanted was for it to be over. To step off the ride, to finally find peace.

With a sharp, burning gasp, Adam stirred. His body shifted, finding itself curled tightly between the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, its pulse faintly humming beneath him. His skin prickled with unease as he tilted his head back, gazing upward through bleary, stinging eyes. Above, the branches stretched high, their once vibrant leaves now brittle and decaying, drifting down in slow spirals as if mourning their own demise. The bark, though alien to him—unlike any tree from Heaven or Earth—had a strange, almost alive texture. He squirmed, dislodging himself from the roots’ tight embrace, crawling slowly from his resting place.

As he glanced back, he saw the imprint his body had left on the bark, as though he had tried to meld with the tree itself. The bark appeared to have absorbed part of him, as if it had become a part of his essence. An impulse to reach out, to touch it again, gripped him, but he resisted. Something was terribly wrong. His instincts screamed in warning, a whisper of dread curling around his thoughts.

Slowly, Adam’s gaze drifted across the grass beneath him, noticing the withering of the once-lush greenery. The vibrant blades had become dry and brittle, curling in on themselves, as though the life had been drained from them. They crumbled at his touch, turning to dust between his fingers. A creeping sense of decay hung in the air, growing heavier with every breath he took.

Groaning as his knees cracked and snapped, Adam ignored the sharp sounds of his bones as they protested the movement. He crawled forward slightly and sat amidst the ruin, surveying the place he found himself in—a place that felt like a park, with trees and grass, but distorted. Wrong. He was still in Hell; he could feel it. The telltale red mist swirled through the air, thick and heavy, and the sky above held the familiar sinful hue of dusty crimson, broken only by the stark white orb of Heaven shining faintly in the distance.

But something was terribly amiss. The garden around him, once filled with life, was decaying before his eyes. Colours drained from the world, turning to muted browns and greys, the vibrancy crumbling into lifeless ash. It was as if something was devouring the very essence of this place, siphoning its vitality away.

Adam’s chest tightened with dread. What was happening?

Adam dragged himself through Hell's garden, the once lush and vibrant world wilting under his very touch. His fingers dug into the crumbling earth, pulling his exhausted body forward as he felt something—something heavy—attached to his back, dragging along the ground behind him. He didn’t dare look at it, too weak to confront whatever grotesque thing clung to him. Instead, he kept his gaze ahead, watching the grass around him slowly die, the green blades blackening and withering to ash.

Above, the trees groaned as their branches trembled, fruit falling from their limbs. Adam’s eyes caught a flash of orange as one tumbled to the earth. He paused, staring at it as it rolled to a stop just within reach. It was an orange—once bright and plump—but even as he watched, it shrivelled, darkening as mold crept across its surface, turning it black and rotten. The putrid smell hit him like a wave, but still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Life here was slipping into death, drained of its essence before his very eyes.

He kept crawling, his hands the only means to move his broken body. His fingers sank into the brittle grass, which disintegrated beneath his touch. With each pull, it felt as though he was dragging the weight of a thousand souls behind him, an unseen burden shackled to his spine. His feet wouldn’t support him—he knew that much. They were useless, numb. All he had were his hands, and they were trembling.

At last, he reached the edge of a pond—a small, still body of water framed by red roses and carnations that lined its banks. Adam paused, staring. The scene was hauntingly familiar. He had seen this place before. He had been here. He recognized the way the water shimmered, the way the flowers bloomed, the pair of ducks that glided across the surface without a care. He could almost hear the memory whispering to him, as if from a life long forgotten.

But even here, in this last vestige of beauty, death was encroaching. He watched as the roses began to droop, their petals browning, curling inward before falling away into dust. The carnations followed suit, their vibrant hues turning a dull, lifeless grey as they crumbled into the earth. Adam’s breath hitched, the garden around him collapsing into decay, the blackened grass creeping ever closer to the pond.

Panic seized him as he turned his gaze back to the ducks, still swimming, unaware of the dying world around them. He tried to cry out, to warn them, but his voice failed him—nothing but a strangled whine escaped his throat. Desperate, he reached out a trembling hand, as if he could stop the inevitable, but it was too late.

The ducks froze. Their feathers darkened and their forms withered, collapsing in on themselves as though time had cruelly fast-forwarded their lives. In mere moments, they had turned to skeletal remains, their bones sinking beneath the murky surface of the pond. The water rippled briefly, then stilled, as if nothing had ever lived there at all.

A horrified cry escaped Adam’s lips, his chest tightening in anguish. His tears—those strange silver and blue droplets—fell freely now, sliding down his cheeks and staining the ground below him. He wheezed, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps as panic gripped his chest. The world around him was unravelling, and he couldn’t stop it. He didn’t understand what was happening, why everything he touched seemed to rot and die.

His vision blurred, the edges of his mind fraying, until something caught his eye. The pond. Even in its stillness, the water remained reflective, its surface like a dark mirror. For a moment, Adam hesitated, but the pull was too strong to resist. Slowly, with shaking hands, he dragged himself to the edge of the pond, his long fingers curling around the damp earth at its banks.

Leaning forward, he gazed into the water.

There, in the blackened reflection, was a face he barely recognized.

It was him—but not him. His eyes glowed faintly with silver and blue, the same colours that bled from his tears.

Adam gazed into the still surface of the pond, his breath catching in his throat as the reflection staring back at him took form. He blinked, refusing to believe the grotesque figure he saw was him, but no amount of denial could erase the haunting image. What looked back was a twisted mockery of what he once had been—a shadow of the Archangel he was.

Two small horns jutted out from the sides of his head, emerging through his thick, dark hair. Between them floated small fragments of bones, like a fractured halo suspended in a macabre orbit around his head. His face was part flesh, part bone, his eyes deeply sunken into skeletal sockets. But it was the colors of his eyes that truly chilled him: light blue sclera encased piercing green pupils, a reversed and unnatural reflection of the angelic light he once knew. His hair was a deep, ink-black cascade streaked with pale blue, as if frost had kissed the darkest night, the strands shimmering with faint highlights, both ethereal and eerie.

Adam’s arms stretched before him, thin and skeletal, his fingers bruised and pale, almost translucent as they hovered above the pond. They weren’t claws, nor did he have sharp teeth or monstrous fangs—no, what unnerved him was the hollow, fragile appearance of his limbs. He looked as though he had been drained of life, a mere shell of the vibrant creature he once was.

But what truly paralyzed him—what left him trembling, breathless—were the things attached to his back. His gaze, hesitant and terrified, shifted slowly, his heart pounding in a ghostly echo that seemed to drop into the pit of his stomach. His body shook as, ever so slowly, six enormous wings rose and stretched on either side of him. They were not the radiant, feathered wings of an angel. They were made entirely of bone, skeletal, devoid of life or warmth. They stretched wide, casting shadows over the withered garden as if they themselves consumed the light.

He swallowed hard as the truth struck him like a blade to the heart—he was the one draining the life from the garden. It was his presence that withered the trees, sucked the life from the grass, and rotted the fruit. His very existence seemed to poison everything around him. He froze in place, trembling, unable to tear his eyes away from the devastation spreading across the landscape. The vibrant flowers wilted, crumbling into brittle, lifeless husks, the trees withered and bore no more fruit, and the air itself seemed to grow colder and darker in his wake.

With this horrifying revelation, Adam found himself able to stand. His legs were shaky, barely able to support his weight, but he forced himself up. He was dressed in nothing but an oversized black t-shirt that hung down to his mid-thigh, loose and ill-fitting as if mocking the frailty of his new form. His breath came in shallow, panicked gasps as he took a step forward, his feet shuffling through the dying grass. Each step he took seemed to leech the life from the earth beneath him. The trees bowed, their branches heavy with rot, and the air grew thick with decay as he unconsciously fed off the energy around him.

Adam’s gaze fell upon the ducks—the innocent creatures that had once swum peacefully in the pond. Now, their skeletal remains rested on the water's surface, sunken and lifeless. His heart clenched painfully in his chest as the weight of his existence pressed down on him.

What had he become?

What kind of monster was he now? Why had he been twisted into this grotesque parody of an Archangel?

Suddenly, his chest burned. A sharp pain shot through him, and he winced, glancing down. The star-shaped scar on his chest—the wound that was supposed to have killed him—began to glow, flickering with an eerie blend of silver and blue light. It pulsed in time with his breathing, as though the very scar itself was alive, tethered to whatever dark magic had transformed him.

Stumbling backward, Adam tripped over a root and fell to the ground with a thud. He scrambled to his feet, turning sharply—only to find himself facing a looming pillar. A shrine. It stood tall and imposing, bathed in a strange, pulsing glow. And resting atop the shrine, shining with an ethereal golden light, was a single apple.

The moment his eyes fell upon it, Adam knew what it was. The Apple of Knowledge. The very fruit that had torn apart his life, had brought the first sin into the world. Two distinct bite marks marred its surface—the marks of Lilith and Eve. A shiver ran down his spine, colder than anything he had ever felt before. The magic radiating from the apple was intoxicating, vibrant, filled with life and light. It pulsed with an energy that was the antithesis of everything he had become.

Adam reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered closer to the cursed fruit. He could feel the warmth of its magic, the life it offered, but something inside him—deep, dark, and instinctive—reached back toward it. His hand extended, fingers trembling as he stretched toward the apple, drawn by some unseen force.

The thing that had ruined him, the thing that had caused everything to spiral into chaos, was now within his reach. Yet as his fingers neared the glowing apple, the darkness inside him stirred, awakening something ancient and hungry.

Adam’s breath quickened. He hesitated, the weight of eternity bearing down on his fragile soul as his hand hovered inches from the fruit of knowledge.

"Adam!" a familiar voice tore through the air, sharp and desperate, snapping him from his trance as if yanking him back from the edge of oblivion.

Adam flinched, his skeletal feet trembling as he stumbled away from the pillar. His wide eyes, dark and hollow, were unfocused, as if his mind wasn’t fully present. Slowly, his gaze drifted toward the figure standing before him—the one responsible for all his ruin, the one who had torn him apart and left him shattered time and again.

Lucifer.

He stood there, flustered and breathless, his usually composed face flushed with a rosy hue, his striking red pupils wide with fear and disbelief. His skin, pale and immaculate, glowed with the warmth of life, his cheeks tinted a delicate shade of pink. His hair, golden blonde with soft coral streaks woven through the pale strands, cascaded down his shoulders like sunlight caught in a gentle breeze. Dressed in a pristine white suit, Lucifer looked every bit the angel he once was, but his expression betrayed him—too many emotions flickered across his face in rapid succession, as though he couldn’t quite grasp what he was witnessing.

Lucifer’s enormous wings, a breathtaking blend of white feathers tinged with red, stretched out behind him, trembling slightly as if mirroring the chaos in his soul. He looked upon Adam, not with anger, but with a raw, anxious desperation, his heart visibly torn. He couldn't believe it—couldn’t fathom that it was Adam wreaking such havoc.

“Adam, you have to stop!” Lucifer’s voice broke with urgency, his words almost pleading. “You need to stop before it’s too late!”

But Adam just stared at him, unblinking, as if Lucifer’s words were an alien language he could no longer understand. A hollow laugh bubbled up inside him, though it never left his lips. Instead, all he felt was emptiness—an overwhelming void that left him cold, shivering, and numb.

“Please, Adam,” Lucifer’s voice softened, cracking at the edges. “You’ll kill everyone... you’ll hurt Charlie if you don’t stop.”

Golden sparks of magic began to shimmer around Lucifer, swirling in the air like embers of light, but Adam was blind to it. His body trembled, not from fear, but from something far deeper—a profound emptiness that gnawed at his soul, threatening to consume him whole.

And then, almost as if a dam had broken inside him, Adam’s voice tore through the air, his scream ragged and inhuman.

“Why...” His voice was barely a whisper at first, choked and broken. “Why didn’t you kill me?!”

The words erupted from him with such force that it felt like his very soul had split open. His throat burned as the screech reverberated through the air, twisted and raw, sending shockwaves of agony through his body. The darkness inside him, the festering void that had grown and coiled in his chest, flared violently, crashing against his ribcage like a beast seeking to break free.

And then, with a sudden roar, silver and blue magic exploded from him, crackling like furious lightning. It surged outward, chaotic and destructive, colliding with Lucifer’s golden-red magic that spiralled toward him in a desperate attempt to contain the storm. Their powers met with a deafening clash, sending shockwaves ripping through the garden like a hurricane unleashed from the very depths of Hell.

The once-beautiful garden, Lucifer’s sanctuary, was torn apart in seconds. Trees that had stood for centuries were uprooted and thrown across the desolate landscape. Flowers, once vibrant and fragrant, withered instantly, their petals crumbling to dust in the raging wind. The earth itself seemed to split open, groaning beneath the weight of their combined magic.

Everything Lucifer had spent years creating…gone.

Lucifer, for all his strength and grace, struggled to keep his footing. His boots skidded across the soil—the same soil he had lovingly tended to for countless hours, the soil of his sanctuary that now lay in ruin. But he had no time to grieve the loss of his beloved garden. His wings flared out behind him, struggling to shield him from the brutal force of Adam’s magic. His arms rose instinctively to cover his face, but even that seemed barely enough to hold back the searing heat of the silver and blue flames that crackled before him.

“Adam!” he screamed again, his voice raw with desperation, but the storm between them swallowed his cry.

The chaotic swirl of magic grew hotter, more violent, each pulse of energy warping the very air around them. It was as if the magic was feeding off the destruction, growing wilder, hungrier with every passing second.

The world around them blurred, torn apart by the force of their powers clashing together. Lucifer’s heart ached as he fought against the tide of devastation, his soul pleading for Adam to stop, to see reason, but all he could feel was the suffocating weight of Adam’s sorrow and rage.

And beneath it all, the same question echoed in his mind, over and over—Why didn’t I kill him?

Why didn’t I kill him when I found him alive again?

But no answer came. Only the howling wind and the crackling of their deadly magic filled the air as the remnants of the garden continued to fall apart around them.

Horror clawed its way into Adam's very soul as the full weight of the truth settled in like a stone in his chest. He was the opposite of Lucifer in every imaginable way. Lucifer, with his golden magic that breathed life and creation into the world, stood as a beacon of beauty and celestial grace. Adam’s magic, by contrast, was a force of destruction—silver, corrosive, and cold. Where Lucifer’s halo shone with light, Adam’s was a ghastly ring of darkness, fragments of bone that hovered in a grotesque parody of divinity. Lucifer embodied radiance, but Adam... Adam was a twisted figure of decay, a living effigy of death.

And then, in a heartbeat, everything stopped. The chaos that had spiraled around them moments before stilled, as if the world itself had drawn a sharp breath and held it. Silence fell, heavy and oppressive.

Adam staggered backward, horror flooding his veins like ice. His mismatched eyes—green and blue, so wide they hurt—were clouded with disbelief. He felt as though he were drowning in the weight of his own being. A dizzying pulse throbbed at his temples, his head swimming as he arched his back, his skeletal wings trembling on either side of him, quivering under the weight of his agony.

And then he saw it—his shadow, misshapen and grotesque, stretching out beneath him like a harrowing specter. A sob tore from his throat at the sight, a raw, anguished sound.

His hands shot up before him, his fingers bruised and skeletal, trembling with the weight of his disgust.

“What am I?” he gasped, voice cracking as tears of silver and blue welled in his sunken eyes. “What have I become?”

Lucifer, mere feet away, was barely able to stand. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body screaming for rest. His own magic, golden and warm, had shrunken inward, drained and depleted from the effort of containing the chaos of Adam’s power. It had been too much—too young, too volatile. If Lucifer had faltered for even a moment, Adam’s destructive magic could have consumed Hell and Heaven alike. The weight of this realization pressed heavily on Lucifer’s chest, his heart pounding in the aftermath of the storm. His claws dug into his knees as he fought for breath, his whole body aching as though it had been torn apart and hastily stitched back together.

He blinked through the haze of exhaustion, lifting his gaze to where Adam had collapsed onto his skeletal knees, the wings of bone and dark feathers draped limply around him. Adam’s figure was so broken, so full of anguish, that Lucifer’s heart ached in a way it hadn’t for millennia.

“Adam...” Lucifer began, his voice barely more than a whisper, soft and deliberate, as though he were approaching a wounded, dangerous creature. Each step he took was cautious, his limbs heavy with exhaustion, but he pressed forward.

Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes wild and frantic as they locked onto Lucifer’s. And before Lucifer could react, Adam lunged forward. His skeletal fingers latched onto Lucifer’s pristine white jacket, clutching it with a desperation so raw it sent a tremor through Lucifer’s core.

“Kill me!” Adam’s voice broke, the words tumbling from his lips in ragged sobs. “Please, kill me!”

The tears flowed freely now silver and blue streaks painting his gaunt cheeks. His voice trembled, each word a struggle as his throat throbbed with the strain of his pleading. His hands tightened their grip on Lucifer’s jacket, tugging helplessly as he begged for release.

“You need to kill me! I can’t live like this!” Adam’s voice cracked again; each word laced with despair. “I want to die! Please... kill me.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in shock, his body jolting as Adam’s weight tugged on him, pulling him forward and backward with each desperate plea. His hands instinctively rose, hovering in the air, unsure whether to push Adam away or hold him closer. His lips parted, but the words caught in his throat, tangled in the raw emotion that had suddenly consumed them both.

“A-Adam, I...” Lucifer stammered, his voice thick with uncertainty, his chest aching as he struggled to find words. But what could he say to this broken, haunted creature before him? He, too, was lost in the swirling chaos of their shared past—of wounds too deep to heal, of choices that had led them to this desolate place.

But Adam’s trembling form clinging to him, begging for death... Lucifer had no words for this. No way to undo the pain. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let go.

“Kill me, Luci! You need to kill me!” Adam’s sobs tore through the quiet, his voice breaking as blue and silver tears spilled down his gaunt cheeks. His skeletal wings drooped lifelessly to the ground, the bones scraping softly against the cracked earth on either side of him. His whole body trembled with the weight of his anguish, his hollow cries echoing like the lament of a lost soul.

“I was supposed to die, Luci. I shouldn’t be here! I don’t want to be here!”

At the sound of that name—Luci—a shudder ran through Lucifer’s entire body, freezing him in place. Adam hadn’t called him that since Eden, since before the fall, before he had left with Lilith and turned his back on Heaven. It was a name laced with the memory of something far simpler, far more innocent. Lucifer's chest constricted painfully, a burn spreading through him that hadn’t surfaced in centuries. The name clawed at old wounds, ripping them open in ways Lucifer hadn’t expected.

His hands shook uncontrollably as he struggled to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest as though it might shatter beneath the weight of Adam's plea. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Lucifer raised his trembling hands, jerking slightly before finally resting them on Adam’s shoulders. The touch was tentative, unsure. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft and almost broken.

“I can’t...” The words barely made it past his lips, fragile and uncertain.

Adam’s response was immediate, shaking his head as he cried harder, his body wracked with sobs that tore from the depths of his soul.

“Why not?!” His voice was laced with desperation, the agony of someone who had already lost everything.

“I-I just can’t, Adam…” Lucifer stammered, his own wings beginning to mirror Adam’s, drooping low and heavy as if they shared the same unbearable weight. The once-majestic feathers, streaked with white and red, now seemed dulled in the shadow of his anguish.

“I can’t kill you. I-I... I won’t.”

Lucifer’s voice trembled as he spoke, his chest tightening with every word, with every refusal to grant Adam the one thing he begged for. It wasn’t defiance. It wasn’t cruelty. It was something else—something Lucifer didn’t have the strength to name. His hands tightened their hold on Adam’s shoulders, as if grounding himself in the fragile moment between them, unwilling to let go. His breath hitched again, the agony of their shared past and broken present pressing down on him like a weight he could no longer carry.

Adam’s cries continued, his body collapsing beneath the weight of his despair, but Lucifer stood frozen, his heart torn between an impossible decision. How could he grant Adam’s wish? How could he be the one to end it all, when every piece of him screamed to protect what little remained?

“Please, please, kill me. I don’t want to be here anymore.” He hiccupped pitifully.

“I-I just can’t, Adam…” Lucifer gasped, shaking himself.  “I can’t kill you. I-I… I won’t.”

At those words, something inside Adam snapped. His sobbing morphed into a cry of rage, his blue and silver magic crackling violently in the air around them.

“I hate you!” he screamed, the words ripping from his throat like a curse. “You ruined my life! You took everything from me!”

His fists clenched, and he pounded them weakly against Lucifer’s chest, though it wasn’t the physical blows that hurt—it was the weight of Adam’s words. “I have never asked you for anything, Luci! Not once! But this… I ask you for this, and you can’t even do it!”

Lucifer stood still, his expression softening, though his heart broke with every word. He didn’t flinch as Adam’s magic lashed out, the chaotic tendrils of blue and silver sparking in the air. He simply listened, his heart aching, guilt weighing heavy in his chest.

“You were my Archangel! My best friend!” Adam continued, his voice cracking under the strain of emotion. “I adored you more than anyone. But you—you betrayed me in the worst possible way! You left me… you hurt me… and I’ve never recovered from that. The pain is still there, festering inside me! And it wasn’t because Lilith left me, that she chose someone else. I could’ve survived that. But what destroyed me was that it was you!”

Adam’s voice broke as he cried out in anguish. “You, Lucifer! The person I trusted more than anyone else. The one I cared about the most! And you—you took her from me. I could never heal from that betrayal! It tore me apart, and it’s never stopped hurting.”

Lucifer’s eyes glistened, his face still, but the pain of Adam’s words cut deeper than any wound. He stood in silence, absorbing every accusation, every ounce of hatred. He deserved it all.

Adam’s magic flared again, wild and uncontrollable.

“You took everything!” he screamed, the rage and sorrow blending into something raw, primal. “You took Lilith! Fine, I could live with that. But then you took Eve! What the hell was I supposed to do?! Did you want me to be alone for my entire life? You took them both! Both! All I ever wanted was to be loved! To belong! But you—you cast me aside, left me in the cold, just like everyone else!”

Adam’s tears streamed down, his voice cracking as he screamed, “I hate you, Lucifer! You’ve always hurt me!”

Lucifer’s knees buckled under the weight of Adam’s words, and slowly, he sank to the ground. Adam weakly hit him on the chest, fists thudding against the fabric of his white suit, but the blows quickly gave way to broken sobs. Without hesitation, Lucifer wrapped his arms around Adam, pulling him close, hugging him tightly. His voice was soft, trembling with regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I am a terrible Archangel. A terrible friend. I never wanted to hurt you… I never meant for any of this…”

“But you did!” Adam sobbed. “You’re always hurting me! Every choice you make, every decision—it always ends with me suffering!”

Lucifer squeezed him tighter, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought… I thought you’d come around eventually, that—”

“Come around to what?!” Adam interrupted, his voice hollow with disbelief. “You took my only friends! Left me all alone! If Eve hadn’t bitten that apple, I would’ve been in Eden for centuries, alone, because I couldn’t handle someone leaving me again. Is that what you wanted? Is that what you thought would happen?”

“No…” Lucifer whispered, shaking his head, but the words faltered on his tongue. “No, Adam, I wasn’t thinking like that. I just… I wanted everyone to be free. To make their own choices.”

“You were being selfish!” Adam screamed, his voice rising with the chaos of his magic, silver and blue lightning sparking and crackling around them. “You’ve always been selfish, Luci! Every decision you’ve ever made has led to me suffering!”

Lucifer flinched, the truth of Adam’s words hitting him hard. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

But Adam wasn’t finished. His eyes blazed with fury, his magic lashing out in uncontrolled arcs. “You’re still selfish! You don’t even know why Heaven does what it does, why it’s so important to protect the Winners! Do you even understand what it would mean if Charlie managed to redeem a Sinner? Why the Exterminations are so critical?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in shock, confusion clouding his features.

Adam scoffed, shaking his head. “Of course, you don’t know. You don’t know anything! Hell is filled with abusers, Lucifer! Every Sinner is someone who hurt another soul—who enjoyed hurting them. Every Sinner committed a crime, and every one of them has a victim in Heaven! The Winners are the ones who survived their sins, and now Charlie’s trying to paradise their abusers!”

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak but no words came. He was utterly stunned, caught in the truth of Adam’s words.

Adam’s voice trembled with anger as he continued, “It’s not about second chances. It’s about whether the survivors can live in a paradise knowing their abusers are there too. Every decision Heaven made was to protect the survivors from Hell’s rotten souls.”

Lucifer could only listen in stunned silence as Adam revealed the harsh truth.

“Lilith isn’t trapped in Heaven,” Adam said, his voice quiet but filled with bitter sorrow. “She chose to stay. She saw the survivors, saw what those humans did to them. She’s up there helping them, not because Heaven forced her, but because she wanted to.”

Lucifer's head spun, the world crumbling beneath the weight of this revelation. Everything he had believed, everything he had fought for—it all felt meaningless now. He had been so wrong. So blind.

But the realization brought no comfort to Adam. Seeing Lucifer’s defeated expression didn’t ease his pain. It only made it worse. Adam sobbed harder; his broken heart laid bare.

“Please,” he whispered, the tears choking him. “Just… kill me.”

But once again, Lucifer’s answer was the same.

“No.”

Adam sagged backward, the weight of everything crushing down on him, his head hanging hopelessly, defeat rippling through every inch of his frame. His wings, those macabre skeletal structures draped with trembling blue feathers, drooped even lower, dragging against the ashen ground.

“I hate you so much,” he whispered, his voice hollow and ragged, as if the very words drained the last of his strength.

“I know,” Lucifer responded quietly, his voice thick with a sorrow that mirrored Adam’s despair. He tightened his arms around Adam, pulling him closer as if trying to meld their broken pieces together.

“I hate myself too.”

Neither of them spoke after that. In the silence, the ruins of Lucifer’s Eden replica stretched out around them, the once beautiful imitation of paradise now little more than a graveyard of dreams long dead. Their breaths mingled in the stillness, both clinging to each other, neither wanting to let go, yet neither knowing how to move forward. It was a quiet, desperate embrace, filled with all the things they had never been able to say.

Finally, Adam, voice low and hesitant, broke the silence. “What do you want from me?”

Lucifer didn’t answer right away. His grip tightened slightly, as though afraid that letting go would shatter what fragile connection remained between them. When he finally spoke, he pulled back just enough to meet Adam’s eyes, his gaze filled with a tenderness that was almost painful to behold. His hand reached up to touch the blue circle that was now imprinted on Adam’s cheek, a dark and sad reflection of what once might have been divine grace.

“I loved you,” Lucifer whispered, his fingers tracing the edge of the mark gently. The circle glowed faintly, like a dying ember. “I loved you so much, but my affection—it was too much for you. And for that… for that, I am deeply sorry.”

Adam blinked, confusion crossing his face as he furrowed his brow. He didn’t understand what Lucifer was trying to say, and it only made the ache in his chest throb harder. “What are you talking about?”

Lucifer leaned in closer, his voice a soft breath against Adam’s skin. “I want to make a deal with you.”

The moment the words left Lucifer’s mouth, Adam recoiled violently, yanking himself out of Lucifer’s arms with a sudden surge of anger. He stumbled backward, struggling to his feet, his wings flaring wide in frustration.

“A deal?” he spat, eyes flashing with fury. “You think I’m stupid? You want to bind me to a contract where you own my soul, don’t you? Just like you do with everyone else in Hell!”

His voice was sharp, every syllable dripping with bitter resentment. “I’ll never give you that! You’ve already taken everything from me, Lucifer! The last thing I have is my soul, and I’ll be damned if I ever give that to you.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, his hand shooting out to grab Adam by the wrist before he could storm off. “Wait, please—just listen to me.”

Adam growled; his voice dangerously low.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he hissed, his blue and silver magic beginning to spark dangerously around them again. “For someone who claims to care so much about freedom, about letting humans choose for themselves, you’re awfully eager to take that freedom away. You’re no better than Heaven, Lucifer.”

Lucifer flinched, Adam’s words cutting deep. His grip on Adam’s wrist tightened, but there was no force behind it, only desperation. “I don’t make deals to trap souls, not anymore. That’s not what this is. It’s different. This is different.”

Adam scoffed, pulling his wrist out of Lucifer’s grasp as he glared at him.

“How is it different?” he demanded, the fury in his voice only barely concealing the hurt that still lingered beneath.

Lucifer slowly stood, stepping toward Adam with deliberate caution. He moved close, too close, and looped an arm around Adam’s middle, pulling him back against his chest. His other hand rose once more to touch the sad blue mark on Adam’s cheek.

“Because this time,” Lucifer said, his voice a quiet murmur against the top of Adam’s head, “You’ll own my soul too.”

Adam frowned, the anger giving way to confusion.

“What?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. “Why would you do that?”

Lucifer’s expression softened; his gaze filled with a rare sincerity that Adam had almost forgotten he was capable of. “Your new power… it’s unstable, dangerous. If what you said is true, that Heaven wants to protect the Winners—if they see you as a threat—they’ll come after you.”

Lucifer’s face darkened at the thought. “And I won’t let that happen.”

Adam scoffed quietly, the bitterness returning as he shook his head. “Why would you stop them? If they kill me, that’s exactly what I want.”

Lucifer growled softly, tightening his hold around Adam, pulling him even closer until their bodies pressed together.

“I’m not letting that happen,” he said firmly, his voice low and warning. “How am I supposed to make up for what I did if I let you die?”

Adam laughed bitterly, a harsh, broken sound. “You seriously think you can make up for all the pain you’ve caused?”

He shook his head, disbelieving. “You’re delusional, Lucifer. I’ll never agree to this.”

Lucifer shrugged, a wide, face splitting grin pulled at the corner of his lips. “Every beginning is born from a bit of insanity.”

Adam rolled his eyes, biting his bottom lip anxiously as he mulled over Lucifer’s words. The weight of the offer hung heavy between them, and the truth of it—the sheer absurdity of it—began to settle in.

“Why would you offer up your own soul?” Adam asked after a long pause, his voice quieter, more hesitant now. “What do you get out of this?”

Lucifer’s grin widened, but it was softer this time, more genuine.

“Because if you own my soul too,” he said, brushing his thumb gently against Adam’s cheek, “You’ll know that I’m not just playing with you. You’ll have power over me, just like I would over you. It wouldn’t be one-sided.”

Adam’s frown deepened, but he couldn’t hide the way his heart raced, the way the offer twisted something inside him. It was tempting. Too tempting.

Lucifer’s eyes never left Adam’s as he whispered, “This way, you’ll never have to doubt my intentions again.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Adam was silent, the weight of Lucifer’s words sinking deep into his soul. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to feel.

Adam stood there, frozen, his heart a mess of conflict and confusion. This wasn't what he wanted. He didn’t want Lucifer to make amends or try to fix the past. He was tired. Bone-deep exhaustion pulled at every part of him. After centuries of existence—living through Eden, Earth, and Heaven—there was nothing left to strive for, no new desires to chase. He had lived a full life, endured countless betrayals, heartbreaks, and wars. Now, all he wanted was rest. He wanted the release of death. Finally. After so long.

As if sensing Adam's inner turmoil, Lucifer leaned in closer, his breath warm against Adam’s lips. It sent a shock through Adam's body, making him stiffen, his eyes widening in confusion.

Lucifer’s voice was a low, intimate whisper, his words caressing the air between them. "You haven’t experienced everything yet, Adam."

Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer’s lips curled into a teasing grin, and he ran his claws through Adam’s hair, sending shivers down Adam’s spine. “You once said that I wanted you to be alone, that I took everyone from you. And you’re right. I was selfish. I hurt you, more than I could ever make up for.”

His tone softened, becoming almost mournful. “But that doesn’t mean I never wanted you.”

Adam eyed him suspiciously, the old wounds of betrayal still too raw, too deep.

“Are you only saying that because you want the full set?” he asked bitterly, his voice dripping with resentment.

Lucifer chuckled softly, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes... and no. I loved all three of you back in Eden—Lilith, Eve... and you. But I was blinded by my own pride. I lost sight of you, Adam. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Adam frowned deeply, his arms crossing over his chest defensively. “I’m not into poly,” he muttered.

Lucifer's grin softened, a knowing look in his eyes. “Neither am I. If you’re willing, it would just be the two of us. No one else.”

Adam blinked, the weight of Lucifer’s words sinking in. “In this contract?”

Lucifer shook his head, correcting gently, “No. In a relationship.”

The word sent a sharp pang through Adam’s chest, his breath catching. He couldn’t stop the doubt from creeping into his voice as he asked, “Are you only doing this out of pity? Out of guilt?”

Lucifer didn’t flinch, his gaze unwavering as he met Adam’s eyes. “I won’t lie. Maybe guilt plays a part, but my love for you is real. It always has been. Just as much as I loved Lilith and Eve... maybe even more.”

His voice was a tender confession, raw and honest. “My greatest sin wasn’t falling or rebelling. It was not finding you after Eden. I should have come back for you.”

Adam wanted to scoff, to brush Lucifer’s words aside as manipulative lies, but there was something in Lucifer’s eyes—a vulnerability he hadn’t seen in ages.

“I don’t believe you,” Adam whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Lucifer, not missing a beat, reached for Adam’s hand, pressing it firmly against his own chest. Beneath Adam’s palm, Lucifer’s heart pounded erratically, the rapid rhythm betraying the King of Hell’s own unease.

“Feel that?” Lucifer whispered; his voice almost desperate. “I want you, Adam. I want to be with you.”

Adam swallowed thickly, a lump forming in his throat.

“If I agree to this,” he whispered, his voice harsh with emotion, “And you fail—if you hurt me again—you have to kill me.”

Lucifer's face tightened, a frown forming as he instinctively began to protest. “Adam, I—”

But Adam cut him off, covering Lucifer’s mouth with his hand. “That’s the only way I’ll agree to this contract, Lucifer. You have to kill me if you fail.”

Lucifer’s golden eyes darkened with displeasure, his jaw tightening beneath Adam’s palm. He wanted to snarl, to refuse, but Adam was right—he was the King of Lies, the Father of Deception. A sly smirk crept onto Lucifer’s lips, and after a tense moment, he nodded, his eyes gleaming with that familiar wickedness.

“Of course,” he purred, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “If I fail to make you love me in return, I’ll do as you ask.”

But even as he agreed, Lucifer’s fingers crossed behind his back. He had no intention of fulfilling that end of the bargain. After all, failure wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t let it be.

Adam, too weary and conflicted to see through Lucifer’s subtle lie, let his guard down. He sighed, the exhaustion in his soul weighing him down.

“Fine,” he muttered reluctantly. “I agree.”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with triumph, but his expression softened as he leaned in, his lips brushing against Adam’s in a kiss that was both gentle and filled with an undercurrent of something far more dangerous. As their lips met, golden and red magic shimmered around them like flames, dancing in the air, while Adam’s silver and blue magic crackled in response, sharp like lightning. Their powers intertwined, a storm of fire and lightning swirling around them as the contract was sealed.

A golden chain appeared around Adam’s throat, gleaming like a collar, while a silver chain coiled around Lucifer’s neck, binding them together, locking them into this shared fate. For a moment, time seemed to still. Their lips remained pressed together, the raw intensity of the magic burning between them, sealing their souls inextricably to one another for all eternity.

When they finally pulled apart, Adam’s eyes were glazed with a mixture of emotions—rage, sorrow, and a flicker of something else he wasn’t ready to name.

Lucifer, his gaze locked on Adam’s, whispered softly, “We’re bound now. For the rest of eternity.”

Adam swallowed hard; his throat tight as he struggled to breathe. The weight of the chains, both literal and metaphorical, settled around him. He was trapped. Bound. But somewhere, in the deepest, darkest part of his heart, a spark of hope flickered, hope that maybe, just maybe, Lucifer wouldn’t fail this time.

But Adam wasn’t naive. He had learned the hard way that love, especially the kind of love Lucifer offered, always came with a price.

“You’ll fail. You’ll kill me.” Adam grumbled.

Lucifer leant in for another kiss, brushing his lips against Adam’s. “I don’t think I will.”

[moonshynecybin]

i need some post-reconciliation head canons from you. first of all when and where could it happen? i'm curious about what's the trigger in your mind that helps those emotional impaired guys to reach out to each other. also do some topics of contentions come back in their fights? (like marc forgot to unload the dishwasher then it turns into a whole thing)

it depends on the scenario doesnt it... theres so much to consider. is vale having a post-racing crisis? is MARC having a post-racing crisis? are they in a situation where theyre forcibly reminded of how much they like each other? does vale have to look at the simple joy of marc's smile and reckon with that, day after day? what happens if covid doesnt happen and they dont spend all that time apart, and theyre still bumping elbows np press conferences? if marc doesnt get injured? if marc's injury is WORSE and if he races down retiring too young? if it looks like he wont make it? what does all that do to vale and good LORD what does that do to marc....

like. because they ARENT reconciled its hard 2 tell, but i think it would have to take one of two primary modes-- acute and sudden, or slow and gradual as the sea. high melodrama screaming fighting sex in back rooms and ducati racing closets while marc bites at the skin of vale's jaw and feels INSANE that every bit of him feels the same as it did when he was twenty-two and vale wrestles down the feeling in his chest like hes at a WWE match, OR. vale waking up with marc's head on his chest and wondering. ah. how did we get here? as morning light filters in through the window.... coming together so slowly and naturally that he didnt even really know it was happening until it happened, delicate and gun-shy and sweet.... not really letting themselves/each other believe that theyre going to fall back in love (they were always in love.... marc to alex like badidearightoliviarodrigo.mp3.gov) but doing so nonetheless !!!!!

[buffyfan145]

Episode 2.7 of "Rings of Power" was great!!! 😀 This is the most it's ever felt like the movies to me with the battles and those scenes were so well done. So much happened in this episode too and at least 2 leaks actually did happen, one of which I wasn't mad about like I thought I would be. LOL Rest of my thoughts under the cut for spoilers but can't believe the season is almost over next week and then the 2 year wait for season 3 begins.

I feel so bad for Celebrimbor. We all know his death is coming and just seeing him realize what's really happening and that Annatar is Sauron was heartbreaking and knowing he won't survive this. His scene with Galadriel made me emotional too and next week is going to be tough to watch. But I did love that Celebrimbor also told Sauron that he's lying to himself about so many things too, as Sauron is justifying everything he's doing. And as a Haladriel shipper you can see too that Sauron's also lying to himself about his feelings for Galadriel, which will likely come into play next week when he reunites with her.

But I did laugh though at that moment Celebrimbor and Galadriel heard Sauron screaming in the tower as that foreshadowed him being in the tower in the LOTR movies. LOL

That brings me to the first leak confirmed and that it was that about half the cast is getting killed off. That came out before the season started and made sense in a way but still really sad to see it happen. We've lost Bronwyn, Walridge, Valandil, Mirdania, Rian, that other elf in Elrond's party, Damrod, a bunch of other elves and orcs, and we know at least Celebrimbor will next week with possibly Adar too (which the orcs turning against him seems to set this up too). I didn't include Arondir yet as I feel he might not actually be dead yet and might be saved since we saw Nenya and know that Galadriel gets it back. And I doubt Tom Bombadil will be back either, so that's a lot of the cast that we probably won't see in s3 besides the ones getting killed off.

Then to leak 2 was the Elrond and Galadriel kiss was real. However, it didn't bother me as much as I thought as seeing it on screen you see it was non-romantic and to just pass her that pin and trick Adar and the orcs. Like a lot of other fans have pointed out to those upset this pretending to kiss things happens a lot in the mystery/crime genres and one fan pointed out it happened in the Bond movies which I totally forgot about. LOL It's nothing to worry about and I get people saying it's weird since Elrond will marry Galadriel's daughter, and Galadriel is already in a love triangle with Sauron and Celeborn, but really it was just to help her. Morfydd even said in the bts vid that played after the episode that it was just to give her a way to escape and that's all it was. If anything I've actually seen more of the purists upset about it than the Haladriel shippers, which when the leak first came out it was the opposite, so seeing it on screen vs reading about it shows the difference.

But back to Elrond I loved his scenes in the battles and with Durin IV. He's getting closer to his books/movies version and Robert did great in those scenes. Also loved Gil Galad showed up to help, and hopefully the dwarves will too once they stop the balrog that Sauron helped unleash.

So overall I was really happy with this episode and it setting up the finale. The trailer for next week was great too and I can't wait to see what happen with Haladriel with their fight and afterwards, especially since Galadriel has the 9 rings and gets Nenya back and we know Sauron will somehow get the 9 and him choosing the 9 will be a s3 storyline. I still think something major happens between them, as we all saw their head director Charlotte saying we'll see that Sauron really loves her by the end, and I'm leaning towards he saves/heals her from a wound and she either lets him go with the rings or she goes with him. Then them including Isildur and Estrid kissing in the trailer too I didn't expect. LOL Also, The Stranger meeting The Dark Wizard and knowing we're finally going to get The Stranger's name and I'm still certain he's Gandalf. And there's more Numenor too, so lots more to come in the finale.

[kiame-sama]

do you regret making some of the TWST boys certain creatures and not others? Just curious since so many of them seem to fit so well

(Me bitching about my own ideas, so if you want to see what creatures I was stuck between and why I went with other species, feel free to read on!)

I wish I made Deuce an egg-eating lizard because of his actual obsession with eggs, but I wanted him to be similar to Ace so they could clash/compliment one another better. Satyrs and Fauns are typically seen as interchangeable minus the cultures they originate from depicting their tempers towards Humans as different with Fauns typically being the helping kind and Satyrs being the tricksters.

I also wish I made Cater a fox or a kitsune because it makes more sense than a water nymph given his sly nature and mischievous behavior. But I wanted him to be a water creature so that he can bother Trey on land and in water since Trey is a Kelpie and Cater is always going to accompany/bother Trey any chance he gets.

I contemplated making Neige a siren (going more for the bird-lady pesudo-harpy traditional siren appearance, not the mostly human appearance they have become in recent media), but I felt he was too cutesy for what was typically depicted as a sex icon so I figured it would be better story-wise and conflict-wise with Vil to make him a Harpy as well.

I almost made Divus a Jackal-headed hybrid (think Anubis but with the spots of a dalmatian) but his fur coat that he constantly wears screamed Selkie to me (and seals still call their young Pups, so it worked out really well).

I was tempted to make Kalim an otter based on Floyd's nickname, but that didn't make much sense for his arid home country and sand-themed dorm. Why not make Jamil take care of the most useless Genie to ever walk Twisted Wonderland when he so desperately wants and actual Genie (canon) that can perform magic at a high-level. Sucks to suck, snake boi, you now get to babysit a near useless air-head Genie who is only good at making an Oasis and messes up every other wish.

Some came with their beast halves already canon (Malleus, Ruggie, Leona, Jack, Azul, Floyd, Jade, Crowley)

And some were so close to an animal in their icons and behavior that they just had to be certain species (Lilia-Bat, Vil-Peacock, Jamil- Sand Viper)

Some I wanted to make different colors to match closer to their canon appearances (Vil= albino peacock) or even different subspecies (Neige= Willow Grouse) but later decided to override those ideas for different reasons. (Vil would NOT settle for being one color only and being so drab as to only have white feathers, he would dye them to look like a regular peacock) (Willow Grouse have funny and janky as hell calls, since he is supposed to have a lovely voice I decided to make him a Mourning Dove instead despite the color match of both summer and winter plumage for the Willow Grouse and RSA uniforms)