#i may have picked them in part for the colour names | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ryansosilly · 2 months ago

Note

I just had to check to see if you were chill like that!!1! Some people only do scrawny petite bottom reader 😒

anyways may I request some headcanons with a big buff male reader, like taller than ghost so everyone thinks he’s a dom but he’s actually a subtop, please and thank you 🙏 feel free to do any characters you’d like but I’d really appreciate if you included Makarov or Keegan :3

sincerely, 🩻 anon

i am such a sucker for big buff subtops you guys don't even know how deep that shi goes in my brain. Even have a whole ass big buff cod oc that I'm itching to draw more about 😞 thank you so much 🩻 anon for this blessing of a request!

I've decided to do headcanons for those characters, in order:

All of Task force (Price, Gaz, Ghost, Roach and Soap)

The 'Famous Kortac' chars (Krueger, König, Nikto and Horangi)

The ' questionable but if drunk enough I'd let em hit it' (Makarov, Graves, Alejandro and bonus of Keegan)

If you want more characters than that, you outta specify but trust me I am VERY much into writing much longer headcanons and with a lot more characters. So the more the merrier! I'm going to part them by sections in the following order above!

I tried to make it make sense for both if you're a part of the team AND if you're just a civilian so you don't feel forced into anything. No specifics used for the reader other than the fact they're big buff and a submissive top just as the anon requested! You can look like anything, here, I'll NEVER use such descriptors!! This is for EVERYONE regardless of race, weight, eye colour, age (as long as 18+) and allat bullshit.

Task Force

Captain John Price

Hasn't had any experience before with another man. I'm DEFINITELY certain he has fucking grinder on that ancient Nokia of his. He definitely called himself a bear a couple times as a joke but never went on a date or tried anything. So for his first experience with a guy to be a big buff man? Yeah good luck buddy. Poor Man was struggling for a while, it took a lot of trial and error if you know what I mean for him to find out what actually worked and what he liked.

Low-key bruh? He was kinda intimidated at first. A bit ashamed and even his pretty damn secure masculinity took a hit he barely recovered from. Luckily, just being picked up and craddled like a god damn no weight damsel in distress had him already ready to go back with no thoughts of shame and regret.

What DEFINITELY helped was how he basically saw you like a big puppy wolf without the 'bad' part. Yes, you were an outstanding soldier (if you are in the military) that was for sure but when he told you to sit, you sat your ass DOWN!!! the obedience you gave him with just enough 'dom' in you to fuck him good enough to leave him dizzy after that was exactly what he needed in his life

Easy to say that ever since you two started dating, he has had a de-stress 'funtime' very often that everyone noticed.

He isn't too kinky of a guy tbh. But......sommeetimmeesss maaybee he'd be willing to pull a collar with his name on you. Not full on petplay or anything. He just liked seeing it above him, maybe with a complimentary leash to pull on if you went too hard for his liking.

He has an above average libido, which only applies to his relationship with you. It slowed down and calmed with time but for the first time and the next much after, he was a BEAST (and had the hair to back it up)

He joked that you brought the size of the big bad wolf and he brought the 'bad and hair' to the table so you were basically complete.

Ghost was the grandma and Soap and Gaz were both the red riding hood. (They argued about it)

His FAVOURITE part isn't just you being on the more submissive part tho. It's actually the comfortable hugs you provide. And the fact you let him give you just as much comfort. It felt very peaceful, he respected the equality you had between each other that despite the differences, you were definitely equals. (Not so much when he is in commando mode on the battlefield but that is NO foreplay little games)

If I were to be completely honest, he ain't that much into doing it in public like I've seen him being written. He wouldn't do it on his desk that's for sure. And if you suggested that? He'll slap the living shit out of you and bring your tallass to your KNEES to apologise. Then maybe he'll feel bad and PERCHANCE let you hit it as long as there's no paperwork there.

What he will do? Maybe would give you some support from under the desk but of course. It's only okay if your desk. If not? Then you gotta be down on your knees. He isn't much of a giver but definitely a taker.

He has a shirt called "old men yaoi" that he was given by Soap. Did you ever explain to him what that means and why he shouldn't wear it when In meetings?..

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Oh Gaz was a mess. He hasn't even THOUGHT about dating a man before..i mean yeah sure maybe he did THINK of looking up some gay porn from time to time but it couldn't possibly mean anything, right? Yeah he was a boykisser full and through. Then he was wondering why his relationship with women rarely worked out. He was more a girl's girl than most girls were.

And that confusion lead him into your arms. And goodness me. That was a ride for sure! Haha get it? Ride. He rode you like a fucking bull when he got used to the feelings. He was an UNSTOPPABLE force once he got comfortable.

I don't really think he was as insecure outwardly, he didn't feel ashamed to be out with you because he loved you very very much so and he didnt see shame in that. Only a little inside doubts he dared not share. Maybe a tiny bit of internalised homophobia.

For a while, he was growing a lot more doubtful that he tried to fit the stereoptupical 'feminine' role before you two had even started having sex. You were masc so he was supposed to be fem even if he didn't feel like it, yeah? That did not work out. A lot of victims (people eating burnt food) and sacrifices ( burnt kitchen and kitchen appliances) fell tragically due to those attempts..

You had to sit him down and explain to him everything. Once that little misunderstanding was out of the way and mostly his mind, the real fun for him began. Due to how big you were, he decided it was no longer necessary for him to do most of the stupid chores around, so, he just told you around with such nice sweet words like 'Honey, can you please carry the trash out for me?'

The trash was not even half his size and even in your hands but he just didn't feel like it and really liked seeing your muscles flex when you picked something up.

Sometimes he even purposely made things a bit HARDER for you to pick up. Like putting extra weights on your pole when you were lifting at the gym when you weren't looking, like sometimes even attempting to do that couple thing of 'sitting on your back' while you were doing pushups.

Lord have mercy on his soul when you actually managed to do a decent set of pushups with him on your back??? Yeah you were set for LIFE.

He was more of a switch when it came to bring dominant or submissive. He didn't mind anything as long as it was with you. He did get a kick out of being the Dom so he did lean on it most of the time. He felt a little confused how a person who fucks him senselessly can be so submissive but let me tell you. He QUICKLY got the hand of it and used it well

He wasn't too freaky at the start either. In fact, he barely had any libido for a while, taking a bit of time to accept everything. Once he accepted he, he fell off the deep end. He decided to do the fatal mistake of looking up stuff about gay sex to make himself understand everything better and to possibly even impress you during your first time together. And uh..oh.. um. He fell right down the trap of bsdm. There was no going back. Some still did disgust him. Like for example, there was no fucking petplay, not even a tiny element of it. You were on an equal footing. What there was a lot of? Handcuffs, bondage, scratching and biting. Yeah all of that was in. He still mostly leaned on wanting to try different positions like being fucked while being held up. He had done it before with a girl but for him to experience the 'girl' role? Was an eye opening experience..might as well call it a spiritual detour for him.

Your height and size did attract a lot more people than he would like it to. He finally understood why those girls acted like that in his past. Yeah you were definitely holding his hand whenever you went out. Bitches need to back the fuck OFF. He wasn't possessive to an unhealthy amount tho. Maybe only a little anxious and jealous but definitely keeping it real, he was an overall healthy individual to be in a relationship with once all of that doubt when away. He was in for the long run and you better be.

But if you fucking say something like "chocolate vanilla swirl" he will punch your teeth out.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

(I'm going specifically w Og Ghost for this one but due to how little we know about current reboot Ghost we might as well group them. There WILL be heavier topics discussed here in only this section due to how complex Ghost is. I am not going to water him down or romanticise his situation.)

⚠️Some trigger warnings: mentions of rape, sexual assault and his fear of intimacy. Basically keep in mind his fucking backstory when you read this section. If you do not think this will be suitable, I'll put a divider from when the possibly triggering part starts so you can skip it.

Ghost was bewildered. No fucking way. Absolutely not. There is NOTHING going up his.. ahem. Maybe. On Sundays cuz it's not gay obviously. He was DOWN BAD. he has gone through so many fucking issues, that he was afraid of loving anything and anyone and he falsely fell down into the rabbit hole of 'nobody is coming to save you, get up.' it got him through everything.

But finally somebody came and actually helped him. And instead of it being the stereotypical princess that he had saved during previous missions.. it was an absolute unite of a man picking him up, swinging him over his fucking shoulder and RUNNING faster than how Ghost ran when not injured or carrying a grown ass man. Maybe that was when he fell in love. But he didn't have a clue what was coming for him.

Oh just you wait until he finally let you in. It was no easy job. He even put you through ACTUAL IN REAL LIFE TESTS. INCLUDING papers and physical. Yeah you can't jump as high as a horse to make it through the field? Wrap it up. (He'll let you try again. It didn't even NEED to be if you were in the military like him. Even as a civilian, he'll treat you like a soldier. Sorry not sorry.)

he pushed you to your absolute limits. Guaranteeing that you'll stay just as big.and ho ho. He LOVED it. Seeing THE Ghost Riley entering a room already made everyone tense. Now? There was an entire Godzilla behind him entering with, acting like his fucking bodyguard without even lifting a finger.

in a way also..he was just.. a bit envious. You were strong, big and intimidating. Everything he wanted to be and everything he WORKED to be. His peace of mind came from the fact you were very submissive. The one thing he wasn't. He worked on himself throughout the relationship to change his beliefs. Instead of being envious, he accepted you as an equal, someone he admired but wasn't envious of.

Back to big scary bouyfriend though

i doubt anyone would be dumb enough to even speak back to seeing an intimidating man, an even bigger and scarrier man behind him with a big German Sheppard that looks very ready to attack any second. (I love Riley)

Riley approves of you as his boyfriend.

If you're in the army: He'll definitely take you around on the meetings with him. The possibility of someone not being intimidated by him alone are low and the chances after torture are even lower to zero. But with you behind him? Just lurking? Not even having to do the heavy lifting unless asked to by him? Yeah. Unstoppable.

For a while it almost made him sick with power. Or that's what he thought the feeling was. The feeling actually was just him falling in love deeper. It stopped behind casual when he started calling you up shamelessly at night to come over.

If you're not in the army? He wasn't even a little worried later on in your relationship. At the start? Yes, he still DEMANDED to accompany you but it took you beating up one person for him to be convinced that you can go alone so he can be tightly snoozing at 6pm on a free day after his tea. (He still tracked your location occasionally. He made sure to ask for permission, of course. If you said no, he'll not do it and instead accompany you more. No matter how strong you were, he will never truly not be afraid of losing you. He is NOT like those weirdos make him up to be.)

He really liked buying you specifically clothes. Maybe a little bit of a gooner one might say but he would love it if you were to casually pull up with a compression shirt on. Only you. Nobody else. If anything, everyone else wearing it outside of duty got a disgusted look from him. You were the only eyecandy he would feast his eyes on.

As a first time, he probably had you sit down with a folder of gay porn, showing you every video of what he wanted done. A bit weird of a bloke he was but alright. He did his research. He did not feel even a Little shame for showing you everything. He WILL get a laser pointer or a damn teacher ruler to point at the screen to make sure you're paying attention. That was no joke, stop laughing!!! Immediately!!! ( He is not very socially aware)

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY FROM ⚠️

vvv⚠️HERE⚠️vvv

It took a little bit for him to change it in his mind that it was not casual to have sex. And it was even less casual for you to STAY after you were done 'using him up' (as he'd

put it). To stay and dry his tears, the comfortable and warm aftercare. For the first time's, he ended up crying in the middle of the act. He didn't feel as safe for a very long time and the crying never did stop. It simply changed meanings. From the fear to relief and safety, thankfullness. You were softer, you listened to him even if you were bigger than his previous male assaulters.

You heard him, you allowed him the control he desperately needed. You made him feel safe and even if he struggled for a really really long time saying no if you were to ask him to have sex out of pure fear, he managed to get himself to speak up when he truly wasn't feeling up to it.

It meant the entire world to him that you actually read his body language, how uncomfortable he was at times, asked him if he was okay and etc. He felt truly seen, not exposed.

I think he switches from being very hypersexual, wanting you whenever you were both free to not wanting anything to do with sex for weeks to no end. You being understanding to his situation made him feel better and his moods will stabilise with time to a more consistent pattern.

TRIGGER WARNINGS NO LONGER NEEDED FROM HERE DOWN!!

He is DEFINITELY not as he is commonly written. He will NOOOOT have sex on the battlefield no matter what you asked and how much you begged. The battlefield is serious and he won't even entertain flirting if the situation is especially serious. Doesn't mean that HE won't flirt with YOU but you're not allowed to! Only he gets a pass. Same with joking. It's only okay if he does it and you better respect it or he'll give you a nasty look!!

His head is too busy to even think about kinks at times but what he is never too busy to not hate is quickies. Not sure why. He just doesn't seem like the guy.

He is a confusing guy. Sometimes he is into something then the next day he isn't. The best way to find out is usually to ask but that doesn't even go well all the time.

Yeah your absolutely massive size plays a part in what he is into all the time tho. Uncertain why but I think he is into the pretty normal positions like him being on his back and you above him humping like a feral dog just as he told you to. Bonus if you hold his hands, intertwined fingers and all. Sometimes when at home, not deployed, he likes it on the weirdest places. The complete opposite of his work self. On the table? Hell yeah! You might as well just lift him up, put him on the table and fuck him right there and then. The bathroom sink? A little nasty but won't say no if there's a mirror. He DEFINITELY likes reminding you how you look, embarrassing you, even SOMETIMES mocking you if you told him that was okay earlier.

"look at yourself, I must feel so good, huh? Keep going then."

sometimes he is more entertained by watching you than the sex itself

Oh but the sex itself is NOT to ignore tho, sometimes he is left so shaky legs from pushing both yours and HIS limits that he can barely walk. Yet.. still tries to trot out, marching like a soldier with awkwardly high raise of his sore knees and heavy steps. He looks like a duck or a toddler learning to walk. You should help him!

Not vanilla, he does dip his toes into some freaky things from time to time. He uses your height and muscles against you a LOOOT. Even if you aren't a soldier, he expects you to act like one. You WILL respect him as an lieutenant in bed.

Specifics of what he is into? He just kind of likes mimicking you. Whatever he notices you're into, suddenly he'll act like he has been into it for years. Does draw the lines at toilet play and the really down bad degenerate things. Surprisingly? He also does not like choking that much. He does it, but really rarely and it's not even breath play, it's just him holding your neck to pull you down. And don't even THINK about reach for his neck or your fingers will be broken there and then.

Scratching and biting are ON the table.

Very hesitant about bringing weapons in bed tho. He knows you're a big strong guy just like him but it feels like mixing his work with his love life. You've to be very insistent and with very specific things to convince him to use something dangerous. Guns are allowed as long as they aren't loaded. Knives only need to be dull and handcuffs are mostly fine as long as they're padded up, not to hurt your wrists. They are NOT getting near his wrists though...

Maybe they are...

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

(I'll try to make this as long as possible despite us knowing like..none about him. Btw yeah fuck y'all he is definitely going to have selective mutism fuck y'all saying it's unrealistic. It's unrealistic for NICKY MINAJ AND SNOOP DOGG TO BE IN THE ARMY TOO BUT THERE THEY ARE NEXT TO THE PINK FLUFFY KÖNIG AND GODZILLA!!!)

Roachy is a tough one. I don't think he has dipped his toes in gay sex yet. You outta teach him about it. Maybe maybe. He like accidentally got recommended gay porn once or twice but that's about it. He didn't click it. He was not that interested.

Oh goodness but once he got a taste of that, there was no going back. It was the first and last he had. He is an adult male so obviously he did probably have sex like..once or maybe twice if very lucky and you squint your eyes and close one of them. Just he never really got to be with a guy ..and especially not a guy like you.

I think he'd be like the "hey mamas whatcha doi- wait......." By reflex then be silenced by himself until he figures out what's the male equivalent of that. Like hey papas? Hell no that sounds weird? Daddy? Yeah the daddy issues aren't that bad yet.

He is more a of a thinker than a doer and he appreciates you doing him nevertheless. He himself is quite tall, basically same height as Ghost. Roughly the same age (26) as well. So, just like for everyone else, it was new territory for him to be spoiled and treated like he treated others

What he most loved is that he didn't have to forcefully unmuted himself when with you. It either happened naturally or you were so intimidating that nobody dares to come talk to him no matter what it was about so you two can stay in silence together.

Just like I hc Roach was the soft spot for Ghost, you were his soft spot. Or more like he was your soft spot so you just did everything. There is a lot of apologising that happens

Not to mention how SHOCKED he was when he first saw you being all submissive and sweet, the complete opposite of what you looked like. He was in for a tough ride, fully prepared himself mentally that he'll need to put those sleeves back and get READY to break those walls of yours to finally get to the sweet cute you that he believes is in everyone.

Well it took like.. one cup of tea and a couple nice words and that's it, walls were down and you ended up making out? Somehow? Don't even ask me. Things just happen and he lets them happen.

He isn't that much more talkative when with you. In fact, he doesn't even need a reason to speak. You were just two dudes hanging out in silence, doing whatever came to mind while letting you do the talking. It was..for the best.

Even if you didn't have the best way with words, trust me it will be better than if Roach was in control of the situations

If you guys see him as autistic I get that so I'm gonna contribute to that.

His special interest is everything related to the military. And especially weapons and ranking. He overjoyed when he became a sergeant. And you should be too. The only times he opens his fucking mouth to is to yap about weaponry. And oh no they should not have given him permission for that.

Big scary boyfriend is basically a pass to everything in his mind. Not even in a childish way. It's a threat. You are scary because you got those two guns on you at all times. Gary is scary because he got GUNS and he knows how to use them. And use them very WELL.

oh yeah? You wanna force me to do something I don't wanna do? Go tell that to my boyfriend.

he climbs you like a fucking tree probably

As for sex life? That don't matter to him. He isn't that much of dom or even a sub. BUT if you asked him to do something? He takes it like a fucking challenge. He WILL do it and surprise you with how well he does it.

He REALLY likes to praise you. Praises you for just existing as well. Compliments everywhere and anytime. He is basically always thinking about you.

Just because he was thinking about you, doesn't mean that he'll only keep it in his mind. You were on his SHIRT. He had one of those "I love my boyfriend" shirts with your picture in a heart. He wore it unironically too. He does love his boyfriend so every motherfucker in the perimeter should know it.

Unfortunately price did not give him permission to wear it under his gear. Very unfortunate, really. Instead, he has a bunch of custom made stickers of you on his weapons. And a picture of you in his wallet. And your initials on his collar. And-

John "Soap" McTavish

oh me oh you. Sorry not sorry but he knows what's up.

Gary may <3333 Love <3333 his boyfriend but Soap? He LOVES his boyfriend m from first glance, his first thought was how cool and awesome you are. He wanted you to be his friend so badly that he started tweaking publicly in front of everyone, following you around like he is lost and even asking to carry your weapons/bag of groceries or anything you were carrying ever really for you to show he is just as strong.

There was NO insecurity here. Just like every single ex catholic school goer, he was the freakiest, nastiest lil mf around. My man's knew and been there done that better than the Pitbull. And I MEAN it.

Man's would probably even ask for a Footjob for all he cares. As long as it's safe, sometimes even that, he is down. Anything.

There no beating around the bush. You were his from first glance and he was yours before you even met.

Yeah maybe the Catholic guilt was so crushing that every once in a while he had a dream of just embracing you while the world around him was burning. But he won't let go. Hell wasn't a punishment bad enough for him to ever let go who he loved. And that dick was banging.

There was ever rarely any complaining about who tops and who bottoms. He is DOWN for it all. Maybe sometimes he'll ask if he can top. Maybe even beg but he was no twink or pushover. If you gave him the chance every once in a while, he'll TAKE IT.

Of course, that libido often runs short and his energy drops. Sometimes he feels bad and there is no better feeling than to just walk up to you and fall without a warning, knowing you'll catch him. He is NEVER giving a fucking warning. He will drop face first, fully trusting you catch him. You better catch or I'm catching you big boy.

He has long since lost his connection to his parents and many siblings so the conversation about meeting them a bit bad but don't worry about it. It wouldn't have gone good anyway. He was the only McTavish you wanted to know. And the only one you should know anyway.

He was very much attached to the hip with you. Far more possessive than Simon but somehow even more secure than Gaz. Don't even ask how. He just is.

Anytime you were to go out when he was not deployed, you are DEFINITELY standing behind him. Anyone thinking that big delicious man Soap was single was sure to regret it. Women and men, everyone goes down upon his request.

"No lass, I'm not single but you can ask my boyfriend if you want. [REDACTED]!"

just the moment they see you walking in, having to lean down to not bust your head into the frame of the door and any guy or girl that was into John, is GONE

Positions? Yeah all of them. For his birthday you can buy him a book of every sex position and he'll even put it in the calendar so you don't forget

Why is he so kinky? Not because he particularly enjoys it. He just wants to fill the void. And god doesn't cut it anymore. He felt aware that his time in the military was running short and wanted to do the opposite of Ghost.

You were there to balance him. The big scary man in his life that reminded him of things he forgot. He loved it.

Back on the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂mode

Telling you around what to do was NOT happening. Yes, he MAY nudge you at best but he LOVES leaving you clueless, lost. Not knowing what to do with yourself when you're senselessly fucking him makes him even more turned on. What makes him the most turned on? When you just do whatever comes to mind. Like a lost animal. And oh the coldness in your eyes disappearing and being replaced by that hot botherness. He was so down bad for you.

In everyday life? You better not be bringing up your height against him or he is going to glare at you and tell you to drop it. Either that or laugh with. 60/40 with odds in an unknown direction. Good luck figuring it out.

Already planning marriage

Unlike Ghost, he is all for quickies. Here and there, now and then.

He really likes being picked up and kissed. He feels it's funny rather than just genuinely enjoying it in a way.

ALSO Has an I love my boyfriend shirt but a little more shame than Roach and only wears it ironically sometimes, like when going to bed or casual days.

Never before has he gotten to experience what it's like to steal someone's else's clothes. Other people, men and women HAVE taken his clothes in previous relationships but never did he know what it feels like to be the one to do it. Mostly because he hadn't dated anyone even close to his size before.

His type in women was all women and in men was all men but simply, there's not that many tall men. Of course twinks and femboys are ALWAYS ready for Soap and he was..only occasionally ready for them. If things got too dry.

Now? No dryness no more. LEAKING

___________________________________________

Kortac

(the rest will be shorter due to the lack of knowledge on the characters)

Krüger

Trigger warnings AGAIN for really fucked up things for Krüger. He is a lil freak in the worst ways possible. Gore, porngore, self harm and everything bad is going on here but I'll still give a section of smut hcs for no triggering topics. They'll again be marked accordingly.

Oh LAWD. Unlike ALL of the other ones, Krüger didn't even think TWICE. He was overjoyed if anything.

In his eyes, you were exactly like him but improved, bigger better stronger one might say.

He was THE most into it. Out of everyone? You two were the most perfect match.

You were used often and turned into a tool flawlessly, with no issue whatsoever. You obeyed like a fucking dog and were horrifying enough to keep everyone in check even when not there.

Your height and strength was what he was attracted to first, not really anything else unfortunately. At least at the beginning, of course.

Sometimes he actually speaks to you the way you'd speak to a police dog.

"Search there"

"Kill!"

He was even more delighted when you first had sex. Finding out you were so.. submissive and obedient was perfect. Maybe you being a top bothered him for a while, he was in denial but once he got over that the first time, he never changed his mind again. He was GLADLY taking your dick anytime as long as he was the only one in control. Every single sense or mean of control was stripped out, held above your head (haha he can't do that often)

He was especially into forcing you to just lay down at take him on for as long as you physically could. You ARE going to take it. He was merciful enough to give you a safe word, of course. Despite sometimes losing himself to absolute manic, he understands consent. OBVIOUSLY.

He is very manipulative, really creative in ways to bring the 'best' out of you. Pushing you far beyond your limits then barely apologising, just to do it again and again.

⚠️⚠️ TRIGGER WARNINGS APPLY FROM⚠️⚠️

⚠️⚠️HERE⚠️⚠️

He was really into asking you to break him. He WANTED, NEEDED for you to cut him up to pieces. Use your big fucking muscles and shatter his body.

Or he will.

Once he found out you were so submissive but still a top, he decided to let it slide, leaving the almost forced gorey sex behind for a while until he can figure out a way to go back to it.

No matter how long time has passed, he still held knives and sharp objects with him in bed, or anywhere on his person he can possibly hide. Once he felt you weren't listening enough, he pulls them out and threatens you to keep going.

Bonus point if that turns you on. Cuz it sure as hell turns him on.

If it doesn't turn you on, you need to actually speak back. Using your intimidating self on him WORKS. Not because he is afraid but because he is into it. He thinks it's really hot.

Likes to beg you into punching him or getting violent when in bed. Man is just a sadomaso

Sometimes he is a lil bit of a..sexist in a way? Treating you like a girl, calling you princess to mock you despite being CLEARLY the perfect picture 'Manly man'. Even putting you in a dress once in a while.

⚠️⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS END HERE!⚠️⚠️

more healthy relationship starts

If you actually want a healthy relationship with him, you need to put a lot more work. And unlike any other person, you actually have the means to succeed.

Your big figure and intimidation tactics work very well. As long as you can use them, he listens.

He even OBEYS sometimes. The closer you get to understanding him, the more he leaned in on hurting himself instead of you. And once you get to that? He will actually put effort into stopping it all together.

Would probably take years for him to soften but you do get like a little free trial of soft Krüger when he is very tired and sleepy in your arms.

Oh how much he loves cuddling but never admits it..

Just hug him, make him understand and love him and he'll gladly do the rest of the work.

Once he actually softened up, he became a more.. upstanding citizen in a way. More domestic. In fact, you just domesticate him it seems.

just because he got domesticated tho it does NOT mean he'll be less of a 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴.. Sex is anything but boring with that man. It simply becomes more loving and occasionally more gentle.

Fun little extra headcanon? He finds hand holding lewd but not making out or kissing in public.

König

well that's a lil difficult to tell. I think he would genuinely be confused for a while. I do NOT hc him as 6'10 or whatever the fanon König is but he is still decently tall in my mind. Like a 6'7 at best. so, finding someone taller than him AND somehow bagging them?? Like how'd he do that???

He was a bit more chill once he got used to it that anyone else felt small. Since when deployed, he was surrounded by mostly tall people and when he was not deployed and home with you, he was just surrounded by you and you only.

The world felt weird when he went out with you. Two tall men out together. He HATED the outward attention so as much as he could, he'd avoid getting out. Not because of shame, of course.

Sometimes he even used it as a flex. The scary man and the scarier man. Just like Krüger, you were like an improved version of him. Bigger and scarrier. He liked that a lot.

What came as a real surprise was that you were so submissive. He himself was pretty dominant and called himself a top. (Has never been with a guy before though. Maybe the one time he confused a femboy for a girl technically counts but he does not count it if you were to ask.)

Took a lot of him to actually accept a proposal to date..he tried to keep it 'casual' for a long while even if it was anything but Casual.

Can't say that seeing you shirtless didn't turn him on though. Pent up emotions and sexual tension from having joined the army at 17 has the man tweaking the first time he felt turned on by someone like you

You BETTER be treating him nice when you do get to have sex.

Positions don't matter but he personally dislikes eye contact. Of course, what he REALLY likes though..

Surprisingly.. roleplay. He likes playing stupid roles with you in bed. It's a bit childish and he'd never admit it but he always asks for it when you are both free for a longer time. Usually it's just short and straightforward to the point, not much talking other than him telling you what to do, what not to touch and etc.

When it came to roleplaying? He is into some weird stuff. Like putting you into a cow pattern lingerie to embarrass you while he can be 'the cowboy'. (He went on rants about why Is it called a cowboy if he is riding a horse and not a cow? He REFUSES to have it with a horse.)

He is also really into recording it. Especially mixed in with the roleplay.

One time he even asked you to pretend to be a porn star, record it and everything. He wrote a SCRIPT too. Who knows WHEN he wrote that. He just pulled up after deployment to you with it so it must be sometime during his deployment.

one time you were a ghost buster and he was a sexy Ghost. He made a lot of bad jokes that he thought were the funniest thing ever in English. He did not quite understand it but you did find out that he likes the ghost busters movies!

He finds kissing you very nice. Grabbing you by the shoulders and just MWAAAAAHH type shit yk? Especially if it's a more passionate kiss, against a wall or something.

It is a MUST for now both of you to share the same diet and same work out routine. It..took a bit for him to admit he cannot keep up with yours and finally have to unmatch it. Very unfortunate.

He doesn't have any favourite positions, if you asked him he just wouldn't answer or say he doesnt know.

But he does know. It's against a mirror. Or god forbid a fucking window that's just another clean and reflective enough. It makes him go insane whenever you catch him there.

Shares clothing 100%. If you're not in the military, he'd even leave his mask over at your place for you to fuck and pretend it's him, ESPECIALLY if you send him videos WITH sound on. If you dare send a silent one he'll send you a lot of angry dad emojis. Do not test him!!!

he also has a favourite angle that he likes the videos.to be taken from because he sees your muscles flex just right.

Overall really enjoys it. You are forced to work out together, share tall man struggles. Does not care if he is gay or anything, no angst on this one boys.

Nikto

I fuckin love Nikto I'm foaming at the mouth as I write this

He hated it. Like a lot. He would gladly break your fucking legs JUST so you can be not as tall.

It pissed him off, turned him on. Same thing

He is even less likely to let ANYTHING go up his ass than Ghost. It took a lot of time after you started dating for him to even let you undress him.

It started with him founding how submissive you were and exploiting it to HELL!

That was your only saving point. The first thing of him you got to see first was his fucking dick.

Open wide 🤤

NOT allowed to see his face under the mask but you can DEFINITELY see that his eyes were constantly locked on your muscles. He MAY or may not purposely change his workout routine just to match yours.

No reason at all just..felt out dated so he has to change it! Definitely not the tank top you're wearing.

When on autopilot, Nikto was following around you without meaning at all. He himself was usually the most intimidating man around Kortac just due to his pure insanity. Now he had competition. Yeah he saw it as fucking competition.

Nearly a forced one sided rivals AND lovers.

Your intimidation does not work :[

your height only kind of just pisses him off SK you need to go the extra mile with fucking him once he permits it.

Favourite position??? Nikto is somewhat of a porn addict so...he likes weird stuff.

He fucking tried pretending to be stuck in the washing machine. I hope you guys understand just how crazy that is. Would be even crazier if you agreed and DID fuck him while in that.

He DOES like shower sex, especially if the water is cold. He forces you to be the one under the cold water them degrading you if you can't keep it up while fucking him.

You that's not easy so good luck bro. No amounts of muscle can save you from that

Horangi

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

The Extras section

Vladimir Makarov

Makarov is a confusing lad to write about icl cuz I think he would either not care or take another one day to put you in your fucking place as a bootkisser then continue on about his day

You being taller than him ain't no surprise, a lot of men are taller than him. What IS a surprise though? That people around seemed to fear you more than they feared him. He wasn't jealous, he was impressed.

He decided to 'invest' some money into you, keep you under watch. In his head, you're now a high value employee- partner.

Wait what. Where did..we lose the plot???

Why are in his bed?

Oh well might as well. He likes it. He is NOT above no little hook ups or getting really inappropriate during work as long as it was not a very serious situation. It didn't matter as long as his big scary boyfriend is behind him

He almost went on a power trip, jumping and screaming from joy inside his mind when you agreed to dare him

He gave you fucking heels. Weird that he knew your size but he did. You have to wear the heels. Gender means nothing to him.put the fucking heels on and be even taller so he can drool.

He likes big boobs on his men since he himself looks like..that. (no hate, only a lil)

His favourite hobby is teaching you how be a really horrible person, even more self defense and dragging you around. Unfortunately, civilian or not, you ARE dragged into his schemes.

You are also dragged in alleys, covered in blood of your enemies for a quickie. Ooopsie!

He thinks the dynamic is cute

He considers himself to be the scarier one though, would be insult if you even tried to imply that he wasn't the most badass man ever

Weird enough I think he really likes taking pictures of you.but not in the cute way that Gary/Roach does. But in a creepy stalker way

If you asked him to do something that you can 100% do alone, he would mock you, call you weak and etc.

If it's something that you actually say you're struggling with like a jar of pickles or sum that you've loosened just enough for him to open easily THEN ask him for help, he'll acknowledge it was an attempt but till take it and pretend like he didn't know what you did.

He appreciates everything you do for him but NEVER says anything

Outside of work he is not very sneaky about admiring your amazing built. He likes it and makes it clear with his eyes but not his mouth. You are NOT hearing even a single compliment from him. MAYBE a 'good job' like once a week but that's about it.

Sex? Yes.

Occasionally is a bit too paranoid about being seen by his comrades because of a bit of not even internalised but straight up verbalised homophobia but as long as he has enough fucking guns it does not matter

Despite your height and being built like a tank, you do not get privileges to go anywhere alone without a bullet proof vest. He would usually send a bodyguard if you were anyone else but no bodyguard does the job you're on your own for that. It's either him or a gun.

Really likes risky places and pretty crazy or even straight up dangerous kinks. It is like an overload of euphoria and pleasure. The thrill? You fucking him in this place? The FACES you're making? How pathetic you are? Absolutely perfect. Give him that as much as your body can handle.

A big guys gets big fucking expectations and you NEED to keep up.

Phillip Graves

Shameless. ABSOLUTELY shameless. If he likes you, you WILL know off the bat.

"I don't care how many people die, GO GET HIM!!!"

You will start dating him the quickest out of every other mf on this list

Give him a week MAX!

Your big ass is HIS and his only, he is already ordering a bigger bed in his room for just you to fit in while drooling like a disgusting pervert.

He is very much a disgusting pervert.

Whenever he catches you out and about, he pulls out a gun then runs at you. He WILL jump in your arms, if you don't catch him, he'll shoot you in the head. If you do catch him, he won't.

So far, you have caught him every time and you're still not sure if he is joking or not about the whole shooting in the head thing..

Big muscles means he gets use you as a threat. Saying that if someone doesn't do as he says, he'll use them to feed you

And damn looking at you? I'd believe it too.

Not the HEALTHIEST mf to be in a relationship with. It's hardly a relationship, he even pays you occasionally for just attending places with him. Buys your clothes extra fitted and perfect for you. (Sometimes he buys a shirt or pants a bit too small on purpose and asks you to try them. He just likes seeing it so tightly fitted against you that it looks like it'll rip off like Hugh Jackman as Wolverines shirt. Again, he IS SHAMELESS.)

There is rarely a time when you aren't tied up in bed. Only if you complain about the rope or handcuffs hurting too much, only then will he be willing enough to let them go. If he fucking has to, he WILL get some shadows in the room to hold your arms behind your back so you better not test him

Nobody felt safe around him before and now they feel even less safe when there's a fucking bull of a man right behind him at all times. You were REALLY quickly promoted to his "left hand"

"No, honey, you don't get it. It's left hand, not right hand, because you're useless most of the time unless I'm jerking off."

You were 80% sure he was joking. His joke line delivery sucks though so you can't be sure.

VERY kinky, most into bondage but into less severe things than Krügers freaky ass. He would still kill you though.

A couple of times he showed his actual care though. After all, he still has a heart! Somewhere..in there? I assume?

not much to say. Other than he might occasionally Ask you to flex your muscles for him so he can take a picture of his face in between them and send it in the Shadow company WORK groupchat

NOBODY LIKES IT WHEN HE DOES THAT, PHILLIP PLEASE FUCKING STOP

DEFINITELY into recording porn. In fact, he decided it would be such a good idea to re-record a training video for shadows but make it into almost a fucking porno due to how erotic it was with the two of you as the 'Main Actors'

Shadows don't watch such a video. He just straight up lied to you about it because he wanted to do it.

Buys a LOT of expensive things for you, especially ones to embarrass you with like underwear with his face on it with hearts all around. God forbid anyone in the changing room asks about it.

How he reacts to you being submissive? He loves it! Loves to abuse it as well! The big scary scary you is horny, overstimulated and whining under his foot, just waiting for him? He likes having a picture of both of those "faces". The scary one in your id that everyone views you as and the one (for private use only) of your desperate tear stained face after he was done abusing your dick for HOURS.

Unfortunately though, the times he got to go really DOWN for the sex were often quite rare. He was a busy man. At most you can get a Handjob under a work desk from him then once done, he'll take you to the bathroom and force you to lick it off his hand. He is just weird like that.

Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro was in denial for the longest. Even to now, he still doesn't even know if you're dating or if it's just casual.

It's been years..

Made a lot of "is it gay if-" jokes that literally nobody laughed at. They're just simply not funny.

He was very sceptical of the way he and YOU felt for a LOOONNGG time. Even once he accepted you love him and that he loves you, he was always in denial, just patting your back as if you were buddies.

But it was NOT casual how much he got bothered by women and even other men staring at you at the gym or wherever you're training at. Be it his gym or a public one, he WILL have you wearing a long sleeved shirt. Only if he is alone with you then you can take it off. He can swallow his distain for the inability to see the way you're so scrumptiously build if it means NOBODY ELSE CAN TOO!!!

Once alone? He is like the token henchman boy in every teen movie that is constantly hyping up the main bully guy in a weirdly gay way. Like those two 'straight guys' in everyone's classes. There is NO separation

He is SO Into the big buff ones, extra points if you even have a lot of hair on your body and he is ready to go on sight. He isn't at all afraid NORMALLY when alone with you because frankly? Sometimes he acts pretty gay with his other homies..hell occasionally even Soap is a victim to having his biceps grabbed then being given unsolicited advice on his to gain more.

Let me tell you, you are an eye candy to him. A confusing eye candy but an eye candy nevertheless.

As for in bed? Like a dream come true! He truly (makes himself) believe that as long as he is the dominant one, then it's not gay! Of course not..

"Hermano, what do you mean the 'socks' rule is a joke? Are you calling me fuckin gay?"

He is smart, smarter than that..he is even mostly joking but makes it REALLY convincing that sometimes people genuinely think he is unaware of the fact that having sex with another male that is so absolutely huge, enough to have him get the next two days off, is obviously gay.

He was unfortunately very.. forgetful the first time having sex. Thinking he can definitely handle it 'raw' because that's what it's like usually for women and he never had a reason to learn about male weak spots unless it's to kill said male.

So, let me tell you.. with your absolutely massive size in all means, being a top and him relentlessly ordering you to "Show him what you've got!" And to "not go easy on him!" Mixed together lead to a 'perfect' mixture of " a trip to ER"

He was too ashamed to go to ER immediately but did get a private doctor he can maybe kill if necessary to check him out. There was no irreversible damage but he definitely learnt that lube is important and the male body does NOT act the same as a female one! What a shocker..

He is REAALLLYY into praising. He WILL praise you at any chance given, mixed in with a lot of physical touch. Again.. especially on the muscles and abs. Man probably had erotic dreams about that too

Don't ask him though he'd just lie or not tell you to not creep you out.

Funny enough, I think he likes helping you shave or just doing "stereotypically" masculine things with you. Working out, fishing, sometimes cooking (but in a masculine way, he'll swear it's a really masculine thing.), you name it!

Later on in the relationship, he really doesn't mind you being submissive at all, unlike the others, he is very neutral to it. Sees it as more of a quirk of yours than anything.

Does not like labeling himself as gay but would lie about being your husband sometimes just to see the shocked look on peoples faces.

Favourite positions? His most favourite one is against a dirty wall in a blind spot at an especially public place like an alley or around the corner of something late at night

OR in a big bath with flowers and candles, extra romantic. Those are the two options, take it or leave it. Romantic or like two filthy teens.

Tends to forget sometimes that you can't give him your all because you will literally shatter him, you NEED to remind him that he shouldn't push you until you've no choice but to fuck his brains out but Alejandro is just Alejandro. Can't help but love him.

He 100% has a picture of you in his wallet AND a tattoo of your name.

Was probably the first to say 'I love you' but in a 'bro way'

Keegan P. Russ

Another tough nut to write about. He is in NO way the Dom daddy that he is written as though that's for sure.

His first reaction to you walking through the god damn door was just side eyeing you for an uncomfortably long time. Probably you would have to be the one to talk to him first if you want to get ANYWHERE

Ignoring that whole..thing..with how you'd even meet, he will be quite happy. Not overjoyed like Krüger or confused like Gaz. He's more okay with it.

Keegan is more about who you are and what you can actually contribute than just physical strength. Being intimidating was right up his alley too so he bonded with you quite quickly.

No internal or external homophobia, bro was just chill like that tbh

As long as you prove yourself helpful and spend a LOT of time with him, he'll treat you like an equal in absolutely no time.

Sometimes he DOES overestimate you though and when he does, even if disappointed, apologises and treats you to a dinner out once he has made sure it's safe. And by out I mean out. On the fucking grass. He is NOT paying for no restaurant. AND you need to be wearing Ghillie suit just in case. Only to be safe. Maybe have a bomb or two to distract in case something happens. Wow those old sniper habits die hard, huh?

Is actually quite confused though by the switch when it comes to sex life. He expected you to be just as bold and cold as you are out and about in your everyday life/battlefield but instead he was met with basically puppy dog eyes at his feet

Can't complain, it was kinda hot, that's his initial thought process. Just as he should, he quickly adapted to the situation. Did a couple quick searches of 'how to be dominant in bed for losers with no life outside of brotherhood' and he was ready to go!

JUST to be greeted with another shocking surprise when YOU were the one to actually fuck him. Just like Horangi, he was a bit taken back by it. None of those wiki how's had said anything about how to take a cock like a champ :[

He did not take that cock like a champ.

He took it like a loser in fact.

He was very fond of more intimate or 'traditional' positions. Due to your height and strength difference.. it seemed to click in his mind exactly like this.

'oh since I'm the smaller one, I'm the one who gets fucked? Makes sense.'

He is very smart, yes, just not sexually. BUT he is no pushover. He WILL overstimulate you until you're begging him to stop fucking himself on you. You just habe to wait until he gets the hang of it and it's over.

Not too kinky, more moderate. Like the average John Doe, missionary or reverse cowgirl, anything as long as he has direct access to your whole body.

Can't even lie to himself but he is a big thighs appreciator. He likes thighs very much so. Sometimes he ALMOST turns into a whiny bitch dog when he wants to try fucking your thighs. As long as you let him, he'll have a field day with those huge thangs 🤤 shi bru me too. Someone of that size will naturally have thicker thighs. And Keegan wants them to crush his skull.

He often jokes that even the rest of the ghosts would appreciate and see that as an honourable death, to go on and finish the Ghosts 'death ritual'.

He says that he'd do an extra good job protecting his homeland in afterlife if his reason for death was your thighs or your dick.

He is a pretty big loser the rest of the time when not in bed unfortunately :[

He is NOT talking about none the entire day then gets really talkative when it's time to fuck.

Still charming, you can't POSSIBLY say no to those eyes, can you, big boy?

(for the confused ones, THIS is a Ghillie suit)

Guys did I do good I hope I didn't bore you to death but I swear I:m just a big yapper who loves to yap :[

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athanza · 7 months ago

Text

Starlett - Part 1

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

Summary: The Ghoul remembers a recruit of Moldaver, by the name of Irene Taylor, who he met before the war.

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 2 | Part 3 | Final part

2296

Cooper's weather-beaten boots thudded on the dirt, the stones crackling beneath his heels.

The town was too quiet for there not to be a surprise waiting for him somewhere amongst the pre-war rubble so when a glimpse of movement caught his attention and he pulled his gun.

A kid, no older than 15 held up his hands in fear.

"Please don't shoot!"

Coopers sunken eyes narrowed. "Do yourself a favour and scram. If you try anything I will shoot you. Understand?"

The kid nodded frantically in agreement and Cooper gestured with his gun for the kid to get out of there.

As the boy ran off, a large, rolled up piece of paper fell out of his backpack and unfurled face-up in the dirt.

Cooper stepped over as he re-holstered his gun, and looked down at it out of curiosity. When he saw a familiar face on it he bent down to pick it up and held it out in front of him.

"Irene Taylor," It read. "Songbird of Hollywood Hills."

On the poster was a large photograph of a glamorous woman behind a microphone, and a look of a fond, yet faded, remembrance appeared on his scarred features.

2077

"This is a little public for a meeting isn't it?" Cooper asked as he and Lee Muldaver made their way to an empty table at a local jazz club called the Bird Cage.

"My contact is meeting us here. Don't worry about being recognised, this place is used to celebrities, they mind their own business."

They took a seat and settled in and Cooper turned his attention to the band, the singer had a lovely voice and it reminded him of the band that played at his wedding. He shook the memory from his mind.

"So where is this contact?" He asked.

Muldaver smiled a little. "You're listening to her."

He looked back at the singer.

Now that he thought about it, he did recognise her. He'd seen her face on posters for jazz clubs all over the city but never gave them much thought.

"Her husband is Frank Taylor, he's an executive for Vault Tec. She feeds us any information she can get. She's one of our best."

She had wonderful stage presence, captivating the audience with a rendition of "Them There Eyes" by Billie Holiday. Her champagne coloured dress sparkled in the stage lights, and she had every person in that room wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.

When she finished the song the room roared with applause and she stepped off the stage, politely thanking patrons as they came up to her on her way over.

Muldaver rose from her seat to meet her as she reached their table.

"Lee." Irene smiled fondly as she hugged her. "Thank you for coming."

"That was wonderful as always."

"Stop it you." Irene joked.

"May I introduce Mr. Cooper Howard?"

Irene looked at him and he held out his hand, having stood up with Muldaver.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Howard." She smiled as she took his hand.

"The pleasure is mine." He replied with a charming grin.

She sat down at their table and waved the waiter down for a round of drinks.

"How is everything going? Is Frank well?" Muldaver asked.

Cooper noticed Irene make a subtle, nervous glance at the bar before answering. "He's fine." She replied. "You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes, our new recruit."

Muldaver looked at Cooper and Irene seemed surprised, unable to reply for a few seconds.

"I apologise for seeming so shocked, but with all of your promotions with Vault Tec, you're one of the last people I'd expect."

"Don't worry about it." He replied, reassuring her. "I understand. I'm not the first I'd expect either."

"Well, I guess this proves how convincing Lee can be." She smiled again, but there was something in that smile that seemed pained somehow.

Just then, a man came up behind them with a drink in his hand and put the other on Irene's shoulder and she jumped a little.

By her reaction Cooper thought it was another random patron come to say hello and invade her space, but he kissed her on the cheek and she looked up and smiled at him.

"Hello darling." She said.

"Hi Frank, how have you been?" Muldaver smiled.

"Oh, you know, more hours and no pay rise." He joked.

It was obvious he was tipsy and the discomfort on Irene's face as her husband sat down next to her made Cooper's eyes narrow a little.

"Darling, have you met Mr. Howard?"

"No I haven't had the pleasure." Frank replied, reaching over to shake his hand. "Nice to finally meet you Mr. Howard, your advert for vault 4 was terrific, exactly what we were looking for. I was sad to hear about your resignation."

Cooper shifted in his seat and chuckled uncomfortably, trying to retain his professionalism. "Ah, well, I'm not getting any younger." He joked.

Frank laughed, a little louder than was necessary. "Aren't we all! Say, is it true that it was your real dog in A Man and His Dog?".

Cooper took a sip of his drink that had just arrived. "Yes, Roosevelt, he's a beloved member of our little family."

"Well isn't that just the cutest darn thing." He smiled.

Irene was shrinking. Frank's presence was drowning the one that was only just captivating an entire audience. Then he noticed it and his chest pulsed with distain.

"Mr. Taylor, would you mind if I stole your wife for a dance?"

Irene looked slightly worried and stuttered her reply. "U-um, I don't..." She looked at Frank, almost for permission.

He hesitated but wanted to save face in front of everyone. "Of course." He smiled.

She stood up and walked over to take Cooper's extended hand.

He lead her to the dance floor. The band was playing an instrumental of "Good Morning Heartache" and he placed a hand on her waist.

"Not too close." She said. She realised her fear had slipped out and very quickly composed herself. "Don't want Frank to get jealous." She chuckled, disguising her reaction with a joking tone.

He stayed a modest distance from her as they began swaying to the music.

"He's playing it down but Frank is a big fan of yours. He's seen almost all of your movies, even dressed as your role in The Man From Calabasas for Halloween a few years back."

"You know," he said. "There's a funny story from that set. In the scene where I had to lasso that steer, the first take it somehow managed to pull me clean off my horse. I had a terrible black eye for two weeks after that, but the makeup team covered it up so well that no one could tell. In other words, I know a cover job when I see one."

She nervously glanced at her shoulder, briefly enough that hopefully Frank wouldn't notice if he was watching her.

"I know we just met, and it's none of my business, but Lee told me you married him for the mission. If he's hurting you, you need to tell her."

"She knows." Irene replied.

"She knows? And she hasn't pulled you out?"

"I asked her not to."

"Why?"

"Because this cause means a lot to me, and whatever I'm going through is for the greater good. I'm the only one with my foot in the door this high up, at least before you showed up."

He was getting angry now, not at anyone in particular, but at the unnecessary situation.

"Forgive me, but that's about the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. You don't need to be in this any more than I do."

She scoffed dismissively. "You don't understand Mr. Howard, this is my purpose, stopping Vault Tec in any way that I can, even if it's one password or document at a time."

Part 2

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tswhiisftteedr · 7 months ago

Note

Not to be rude but you accidentally put val's story in vox's masterlist instead. Srry I didn't feel comfy dming you. Nothing against you at all I'm just a coward wanting to hide in anon haha. Ig while I'm here could I get vox general hcs pls?

What the Tv do? ☆ Vox General Headcanon + Drabbles (SFW & NSFW)

☆ Vox General headcanon + Vox x Gn!Reader(Employee!Reader??):

Some general thoughts about the tv man and also his relationship with the ‘reader’. This is silly, this is fun, fluffy and smutty.

Warnings: Mature Content, Not Proofread, Drinking, Death(literally overdose on coffe nothing gruesome), Drug use(c0caine and others substances), Sadistic Tendencies, Dub-Con, Power Imbalance/Power Play, Obsessive and Possessive Tendencies and Acts, Stalking, Voyeurism & Exhibitionism, Boss x Employee, Pet Play?(Just collaring and slight animal based pet names), Valentino.

Words: Total: 5496 = Sfw - 2609 + Nsfw - 2887

Note: I only wrote 1 drabble, i might add more if people request it about the specific headcanon they want more on. so I’m not good with request like these, I like when they are more specific so I have sort of something to base my writing on, so sorry if you anon or people don’t like what I’ve wrote, r.i.p. >:/ Though tell me if you want more!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

SFW:

☕︎ Coffee addict and 𓏊 Alcoholic

Vox is the figurative and quite literally incarnation of the ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ phrase.

But we’re talking coffees instead of coffee with him — two cups straight out of bed to be precise. When totalling the day’s consumption, Vox indulges on average, 6-7 cups of 10 oz coffee; in addition to his morning coffees, he likes to have a mid-morning cup, then two during lunch and finally 1-2 cups during the afternoon depending how late he is working.

Is this per say, ‘healthy’? No, not at all, Vox couldn't care less — worst ‘worst’ case scenario, he quote on quote dies, the coffee he had intake ends up intoxicating him due to the splurging amount of it, turning this mondaine drink into a lethal liquid for the overlord’s body. His heart would stop, sub-consequently, him and his body would be out.

Though the good thing — or bad, it all depends on your angle — about hell is that in about the span of 10 minutes his body will have fully regenerate and be back open for business. Some sinners call it it a curse, he calls it a blessing, as this part of the ‘eternal punishment’ practically makes him immortal.

So is he going to work on regulating his caffeine intake? Obviously not!

Worst thing he gets from his ‘little problem’ is a heart attack, and they don’t permanently keep him down. — Sure, they hurt like a bitch, and he would rather not be having them at all to be truthful.

But he honestly he doesn’t see his bimonthly cardiac arrests as that steep of a price to pay. (Honestly how can such a smart businessman be so dumb about his health. * face palming and baffled at the idiocy of it all *)

Now when alcohol is the subject of conversation, Vox takes a slightly different approach, albeit one still characterized by overindulgence.

You see, he prides himself on being the epitome of a charming, classy, and self-controlled casual drinker, compared to his drunkard of a pattern —Valentino— our lovely show host with anger issues and both inferiority and superiority complex is a sophisticated and savvy man.

However, beneath this facade of self-control, which he upholds quite well to the public eye, hides his obvious alcoholism issues.

While he may not be stumbling and blubbering around, picking fights,— in most instances at least— Vox is certainly what you might call a “day drinker."

In fact, this is actually a canonical trait, which was displayed in episode two of the show; Him discussing with others Vees on how to deal with the radio demon’s comeback, a drink in hand.

I presume thatit was a scotch on the rocks due to it’s colour but also it’s historical relevance in relation to Vox’s person— Scotch whisky poured over ice, gained popularity in the 1950s primarily in Western countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada.

It became a symbol of sophistication and leisure, often enjoyed in upscale bars, clubs, and lounges frequented by the affluent and fashionable crowd of the era.

Additionally, its popularity was bolstered by the rise of cocktail culture during the mid-20th century, as well as the increasing availability of Scotch whisky in international markets. — this fits quite nicely Vox’s character as it is both a drink of his time on earth but also one that remains relevant in the contemporary era.

It easily mirrors Vox's overarching desire to maintain relevance and significance, both in the present and in the ever-evolving future.

The overlord definitely adhere to ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ religiously. Though he does prefer to enjoy his daily drink around 5 p.m. PRT (Pride Ring Time).

He will occasionally enjoys a drink with his lunch, often opting for wine, although this isn't a regular occurrence for the man.

As someone constantly under stress, with his mind racing to keep up with the ever-changing trends and opinions in hell, Vox is a type to indulge in a nightcap or two before bed.

It helps him unwind and achieve the relaxed state of mind necessary for a restful night's sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sleep

While the notion of ‘Vox's dreams playing on his screen while he's asleep’ is an amusing concept for fanfiction or artwork, I personally find the idea of ‘the VoxTek logo bouncing around like the DVD logo’ to be more fitting for Vox.

Before delving further, it's important to note that initially, it wasn't necessarily the VoxTek logo projected on his screen; however, I'll address this shortly.

The reason I lean towards the DVD logo concept is because I find it unlikely that Vox's screen would be completely black during sleep. A completely dark screen would imply the device is completely off, no energy is being received or given by it, which would suggest that it is no longer alive. Having some activity on Vox’s screen while asleep would signify that his program is still active, indicating he's still functioning, essentially alive.

Now regarding the widely shared headcanon, I have my own personal take on it.

When Vox first manifested in hell, his 'real name' appeared on screen. By 'real name,' I mean the one he had on Earth, which I believe wasn't Vox —That name seems too futuristic for a person born in the early 1900s or the kind of name you'd associate with a 1950s businessman— Vox is a name he chose for himself after death, symbolizing a fresh start, though I do think that his real name might also have started with a V.

(This perspective extends to other 'Vees' as well, although Velvette seems more plausible as a given name, I suspect it might not be her original one. Valentino, on the other hand, feels like a name assigned to him, but he too might have adopted a new one after death.)

Initially, Vox was unaware of his old name appearing on his screen while he slept since he wasn't conscious during that time. It wasn't until about half a year into his time in hell, during which he introduced himself as Vox to everyone, that one of his acquaintances pointed out this aspect of his physiology. Something along the lines of "Who's V———?" or "Why does V——— show on your screen while you sleep?" triggered a cascade of reactions in him.

Firstly, he panicked, realizing that people had access to his old identity. Secondly, he was puzzled by this phenomenon since no TV he had encountered displayed such behavior, which was normal considering DVDs weren't invented before 1996. — Hell sure was weird, he possessed technological features as part of his physiology before they were even invented— Lastly, this revelation instilled in him a new fear of sleeping.

This behavior stemmed from Vox's desire to construct a fresh existence in hell, complete with a new identity, image, empire, etc. The thought of others accessing his old name and exploiting it to uncover details about his past, including his behaviors, weaknesses, and tactics, filled him with dread.

As a result, he became hyper-vigilant, refusing to sleep unless he was certain of his solitude, fearing the potential repercussions of his former identity being known.

It wasn't until the mid 1960s that Vox had finally managed to upgrade his system, replacing ‘V———‘ with 'Vox'. However, even after this upgrade, he still harboured reservations about sleeping around others for about a year or two. He feared a potential glitch that could revert his screen to displaying his previous name.

Around the late 1970s he had made an adjustment to this aspect of his body once more, replacing 'Vox' with the VoxTek logo after a certain moth had suggested it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sexuality

Our beloved Tv Demon a canonical bisexual man, but I personally believe that while he may have bisexuality as his sexual orientation, — his attraction to men was something he only came to realize after death. Although there were subtle hints of his attraction to the same gender based on how he felt about them, he unfortunately didn't grasp them while still alive;

It would have been the late 1950s, and Vox had been in hell for about a year or two. In his earthly life, he had been with his fair share of women, and even in the "surprisingly not so fiery pits of the underworld," his ability to attract partners hadn't diminished much once got over his TV head appearance and let place for his charming and savvy persona to take over.

His love life seemed unchanged, perhaps with occasional exploration of new kinks, until that fateful night of October 11, 195X...

Vox had gone out for a drink after a grueling day at work, back when he was still toiling away at a low-paying job in an electronics factory, toasters, vacuum, etc. Despite the shitty work he had to go through, he had the perk of taking home broken scraps, which eventually played a role in his rise to success. But let's refocus on his night out, shall we?

He walked into his newfound favorite spot, a comedy bar where he sought solace in laughter and libations after a hard day. Arriving just as the performer began their set, he headed straight to the bar for his usual whiskey on the rocks, with nothing else on his mind. It wasn't until the comedian delivered a particularly hilarious joke that Vox turned to look at them and found his attraction piqued.

It was evident that they were a man with the specific style flashy outfit and makeup they wore. The voice was also a dead giveaway. The person now standing on stage, delivering one funny punchline after another, was a drag queen – a stunning one in Vox's eyes.

He couldn't tear his gaze away; there was something irresistibly captivating about the humorous individual on stage.

After the performance, as they made their way to the bar, Vox seized the opportunity. He introduced himself, and they exchanged pleasantries. They shared drinks and engaged in lively conversation, making for a truly enjoyable night that ended with a bang, quite literally.

In the morning, as clarity returned, Vox couldn't help but feel confused. He had never been attracted to men before, so he initially chalked it up to the alcohol or the fact that his night companion appeared so feminine that he mistook them for a woman.

However, as memories of the night flooded back, he couldn't deny his genuine attraction to every aspect of his partner, even the unmistakably male parts.

Initially, it felt strange to Vox as he reflected on the experience. However, after hours of deep contemplation, everything started to fall into place.

Vox realized he had always felt an affinity towards men, though expressing it as "liking men" might have appeared odd to outsiders. When he used that phrase, it wasn't in the context of sexual or romantic attraction but more of an admiration.

Yet, upon further reflection, he acknowledged that his feelings surpassed mere admiration.

He had never entertained the idea of it being anything akin to sexual or romantic attraction, but his recent encounter forced him to reconsider as he contemplated his life and the events of the previous night.

Vox liked men;

— Vox had always been drawn to the men of his time who exuded masculine confidence and assertiveness, finding their presence alluring and desiring to be in their company constantly.

He liked when they wore classic masculine fashion, such as tailored suits with narrow lapels, fitted jackets, and straight-leg trousers. These outfits oozed sophistication and professionalism, and Vox admired the attention to detail displayed.

Additionally, he liked when men would add classic accessories like fedora hats, skinny ties, cufflinks, and pocket squares to their outfit, they added to the polished and stylish appearance.

The preppy style also appealed to Vox, as he admired men who wore V-neck sweaters, button-down shirts, khaki trousers, and loafers. This style exuded a sense of casual elegance and refinement that he found attractive.

He also had a penchant for rebellious men who embraced a non-conformist aesthetic, often seen in leather jackets, denim jeans, white T-shirts, and motorcycle boots.

Vox liked when men were smart and witty, could keep up with the conversation and also teach something along the way.

Vox liked men who exuded strength and athleticism, finding their ability to handle themselves physically appealing. For instance, witnessing a fistfight between coworkers would stir his emotions, initially attributing his excitement to the violence of the altercation.

However, he would inevitably find himself gravitating towards the winner, intrigued by their display of strength and skill, and feeling drawn to them in some inexplicable way. There was something about winners that captivated him and sparked his desire to get closer to them.

He like men who were daring, adventurous, and unafraid to push boundaries, they appealed to his sense of excitement and thrill-seeking.

He liked men who were ambitious, goal-oriented, and willing to pursue their dreams with determination might have resonated with Vox on a subconscious level.—

After his one-night stand, Vox was determined to clarify things once and for all. Following another grueling day of work, he ventured out again, this time to a gay bar, seeking the company of someone who embodied the traits he found most appealing in men, wanting to ensure it wasn't just the alcohol or the femininity of his previous partner. Without delving into detail, let's just say he had quite the night and afterward, there was no doubt in his mind: ‘he liked women, and he definitely also liked men.’

Following that experience, Vox began seeing more individuals of the same gender. However, he still held onto the notion that while he might be attracted to men, he didn't believe he would be interested in them as anything more than sexual partners. That was until he met Alastor...

Initially, Vox approached the radio demon seeking friendship or perhaps a partnership, given Vox's burgeoning company and rising status as an overlord. However, he soon found himself enamored with Alastor. Unfortunately for Vox, his feelings were not reciprocated. After that, Alastor distanced himself from Vox, leading our TV host to regard his old love as an enemy.

In response to the rejection, Vox decided to cease seeing men altogether, engaging in a series of short-term relationships with women. However, he soon realized he was simply idealizing Alastor and shifted his focus from woman to men for meaningless relationships, attempting to prove to himself that any other man was better than "that Bambi bitch."

But this approach only intensified the emptiness he felt. Recognizing the detrimental effects of his frantic behavior on himself and his company, Vox resolved to regulate and get back on a more business focused path.

The fact that rumours began circulating about his supposed "homoerotic relationships," was also a big push into getting back on track, as a word like that getting out was detrimental to business, since being gay was still stigmatized even in hell, during this time period.

It was around the late 1970s, with the rise of gay rights activism, that Vox began publicly dating men. Coincidentally, this was also when he met and began his business partnership (and more) with Valentino.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Names

Vox has a penchant for using endearing or patronizing nicknames, regardless of the gender of his employees. He will refer to them as "sweetheart," "doll face," or simply "doll."

In moments of frustration or when faced with resistance, he's not shy about using terms like "little girl" or "little boy," or even "kid," to belittle those who question him.

Additionally, he might employ terms like "Princess" or "your highness" as forms of condescension, no matter the gender of the person he is addressing.

NSFW

𓊔 Party

Despite Vox's obsession with his and the Vees' image, when it comes to partying, he becomes a total animal — I’m talking ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ type of wild.

Lavish gatherings marked by obscene spending and excessive drug intake, especially cocaine.

Vox typically indulged in doing lines off his desk or the luxurious crystal table in the lounge. However, what truly exited him was snorting lines off someone, getting his rocks off at their inability to refuse his advances and delighting in the control he exerted as he pinned them down to prevent any squirming.

The slight anxious tears and nervous mewls from whoever served as his snorting surface always stirred something within Vox. While he would grow irritated if they moved too much, the subtle signs of fear, such as the wetting of their eyes and trembling breath, would quickly reignite his unstable emotions. He found himself intensely aroused by their scared state, and more than once, he acted on these desires…

Drabble:

You were a VoxTek employee, more specifically; Vox’s secretary.

As Vox's secretary, navigating Alastor-related tantrums and enduring the grueling hours could be incredibly taxing, but the job itself had its perks.

Thanks to your position in the company, you enjoyed luxurious accommodations in the finest suites the V Tower had to offer.

Despite the challenges, Vox could be surprisingly pleasant, his charismatic charm reminiscent of his earlier days when his hypnosis wasn't as potent. And beneath the unconventional exterior of his TV head, there was no denying the appeal of his well-built physique.

Given the close proximity and constant interaction with Vox, it was inevitable to develop a small crush on your boss. His magnetic presence and the fact he was practically the only person you interacted with regularly since he requested you to work closer to him about three months ago only fueled this infatuation.

You liked your boss, but at this moment, you couldn't stand him;

It was 3 a.m. on a Sunday, the one day of the week you were supposed to have some semblance of off-time, with the luxury of sleeping in until noon.

But instead of enjoying your well-deserved rest in bed, you found yourself reluctantly entering the elevator, begrudgingly making your way to the usually closed-off top floor of the building.

Why? Because you had received a threatening and slightly slurry phone call from your boss, demanding your immediate presence or else face termination.

With your livelihood seemingly hanging in the balance, you complied without questioning, even though you loathed every second of it.

After punching in the code provided, you entered the lounge area of the top floor to find all three Vees lounging about. Valentino was enveloped in smoke, while music filled the air.

"Y/N! So glad you made it! Come 'ere," Vox exclaimed, his gestures frantic, urging you to approach quickly. He appeared laid-back, friendly, and strangely excited, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor of coldness and condescension.

Confusion clouded your expression as you approached the couch, unsure of what to make of Vox's sudden change in behavior. Velvette, noticing your bewilderment, chimed in with an explanation. "He took some MDMA before he called you — actually, he couldn't stop blabbing about your ass once that stuff kicked in," she divulged matter-of-factly, adding another layer of peculiarity to the already bizarre situation.

‘Ah, he’s high — that explains the weird friendliness.’ You thought to yourself.

But before you could dwell on it too long, Valentino's words snapped you out of your thoughts, "Yes, little Voxxy over there couldn't stop talking about how much he wanted his little secretary with him right here. He just had to call you, despite it being the middle of the night. I'm sorry you're losing your beauty sleep right now, cariño," he said, his tone tinged with insincerity from false remorse. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he finished speaking, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment.

“Val, Vel! You can’t tell them that! Or they’ll, they’ll… fuck!” Vox began to say, but something mid-sentence seemed to frustrate him.

Before you could question it for too long, Valentino answered that question for you. “They’ll figure out you have a little crush on them. Aww, don’t worry papi, it’s not like they can say no to you either way,” the moth darkly announced, frightening you, as it was technically true that you had to obey whatever order your boss gave you; it was in your contract after all.

To your somewhat relief, Vox scoffed at his part-time boyfriend's comment, as if to convey that he wouldn't behave in such a manner.

"Shut the fuck, Val!" Vox began, his frustration evident, before redirecting his attention back to you. "And you, lay down on the table." Confused by the request, you briefly wondered if he was joking, but the seriousness etched on his face made it clear that he wasn't. Resigned, you followed his instruction and laid down on the table as he commanded.

As soon as you complied, a smile spread across Vox's face. "Good, good. Now be a good little secretary and stay still as I do some lines off you, m'kay?" he instructed.

Before you could process anything or say something, he pushed your shirt all the way up, ending just under your chest, and tugged your bottoms down slightly — exposing your whole stomach.

Attempting to voice your discomfort, you were promptly shushed by Vox. "Shhh, you're being a table for me right now, and last time I checked, tables don't talk, now do they, sweetheart? So be a doll and shut up," he said, eliciting laughter from the two other Vees.

You complied with his instructions and remained silent as you felt him pour some powder onto your abdomen. Knowing the drugs he usually made you order on his behalf, it was probably coke.

With that, he quickly formed about three lines and began snorting them. The sensation felt odd and somewhat ticklish to you, but what you didn't expect was for him to lick the parts of your belly where the powder had just sat — long lines that started from top to bottom, causing you to squirm involuntarily.

Vox didn't appreciate your movement, because ‘how dare his table move?’. In response, he firmly gripped your waist on both sides and forcefully slammed your hips against the table as a warning to ‘stop moving’.

However, his claws dug into your skin, causing you to cry out slightly. Upon seeing the small tears in your eyes, his mood shifted once more, from aggravation to something more lustful.

He relished the sight of you with tears in your eyes, so he decided to inflict a bit more pain. With a predatory glint in his eyes, he bit at your sides, knowing that you couldn't retaliate due to the hierarchical difference between you.

His bites started from the top, gradually getting lower until they ended up just above your crotch. With a slight, heavy breathing, he remarked, "Now what do we have here? A snack for me? You shouldn't have." As he removed your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear, a slight moist patch formed due to the position you were in.

Sure, Vox was an entitled asshole, but god, did he look and sound incredible when he was being mean and bossy. How could you not get aroused, especially when his face and long tongue ass were so close to your intimate parts.

"You want me to play with you, darling?" Vox asked in a manner that almost made it feel like you had a choice. There was something about it that suggested he might respect your decision if you said no—sure, he wouldn't like it, but he definitely had this thing where he wanted you to want him, to beg for him, to need him. Forcing himself on you wouldn't align with that desire.

You nodded, but he tutted at you, wanting a verbal answer. "No, no, no, it's 'Could you please, sir?' or 'Would love to, Mr. Vox,' or 'Please, I need you, Vox.' You've got to speak up if you want me to do anything to you, got it, dollface?" he clarified, emphasizing the importance of explicit consent, whether it was due to genuine respect for your boundaries or just his enjoyment of your yearning for him, it was a bit unclear. However, knowing Vox, he probably just got off on your embarrassment.

"Yes, sir," you said, feeling embarrassed. "So? Do you want me to give some love to these," he asked, tracing the outline of your underwear, "lovely parts?" He perked up.

"I would love for you to, sir," you managed to speak out. With a 'perfect' from your boss, he was now eagerly devouring you with his tongue, sending small pleasurable shocks through you as he did. No part of you down there was left un-licked.

Just as you were about to reach that sweet, sweet release — Vox removed himself from you, causing you to whine at the loss of pleasure.

"Don't worry," he said, but before you could complain too much, Vox lifted you up and threw you onto the couch, your face soon hitting the satin pillows. As you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, you felt your hips being repositioned, leaving you face down and ass up.

Vox quickly pumped his cock a few times, not needing much as it was already hard from the sight of you writhing due to his tongue. Getting close to your ear, he whispered, "Cuz I'm not done with you, dollface."

Then he promptly shoved himself inside of you. Thankfully, whatever he was doing with his tongue a couple of instances ago had prepped you, because, woof, did the stretch sting.

After giving you a few moments to adjust, he began pounding you into tomorrow, playing with your front and sending small shocks here and there. With no regard for his colleagues sitting right beside him —or should I say colleague, as in singular—Velvette had left as soon as he began working you with his tongue. However, Valentino remained, watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Your soon came undone due to his rough ministrations, but he was far from done with you...

⫘⫘⫘ Ownership, ⛌⛌⛌ Humiliation & Collar

If you haven't already figured it out yet, Vox is a sadist. He thoroughly enjoys power dynamics and the act of humiliating others.

Continuing from the previous headcanon, picture yourself as either hired as his secretary or as a low-ranking demon in his company who catches his eye. If you're the latter, he'll undoubtedly arrange for you to be transferred to work closer to him.

But anyway, my point is, as soon as you're in his close proximity, he'll literally makes you his bitch on call in the blink of an eye. And obviously, you can't refuse because, one, he's your boss; two, he's an overlord; and three, he's Vox.

Who would refuse that hunk? Even if you weren't initially attracted to him, you'd find yourself becoming so after a couple of weeks, even if it's just some weird mild attraction—you're still into him.

Once he's got you in his grasp and has fucked you at least once, this is when he begins to play with you. He'll make you start wearing a vibrator under your clothes at work, ordering you to remove your clothing every morning and show him, to ensure you did it. Then he'd send you on your merry way.

If he wasn't physically with you, he'd be watching you through his cameras.

And every time you would be talking to someone and he deemed it too long, you weren't paying attention to him, or you were zoning out/getting distracted, he would turn the vibrator on to 'get you back on track'.

Though he did like to sometimes turn the vibrator on just to tease you. For example, you're in the middle of telling him about a shift in his appointment in a room full of people, and he would suddenly turn it on to fuck with you.

He also has a huge thing for pulling you by your soul chain. He just loves, loves, loves summoning it out of nowhere and just tugging you along with it.

For instance, you could be telling him about some issue concerning a recent project, and he would tell you to come closer so he could hear better.

As you walk closer towards his desk, he deems your pace too slow. Without warning, he summons and tugs at the chain around your neck, causing you to fall to the ground.

In an attempt to brace the fall, you put your arms out, catching yourself and ending up on all fours.

But as you try to get up, he would tut at you, ordering you to “Crawl to me.” You’re humiliated, but you still do it as he watches you like a hawk, a satisfied grin on his face.

If you also happen to scrape or bruise yourself when you fell and some small tears form in your eyes, let me tell you, he would get so bricked up as soon as he noticed them.

And of course, he would make you blow him, though it would end up with him face-fucking you, as it usually did.

He would also hold your head down as he dumped his cum down your throat, then he would pull your nose with his free hand, saying that “you don’t get to breathe until you’ve swallowed it all.” And of course, you would do it because you don’t want to literally choke to death on your boss’s dick.

Once he was sure you had swallowed it all, he would finally release you, allowing you to take some air in. Then he would make you stick out your tongue, and he would spit in your mouth, making you swallow that too.

𐂯 Training

He liked using small electrical charges as a ‘training method’, and this method has two stages. This would happen after he already had you as his personal toy— I mean, ‘secretary’.

At first, he uses electricity to reprimand you whenever you weren’t paying attention to him, questioned him, said no to things, or did anything that he considered as bad behaviour.

He would shock you, making you associate ‘bad behavior’ with pain, so you would end up automatically correct yourself before you even do or say something.

If you take a bit too long to ‘adjust’ to this new way of acting, he might resort to a little bit of hypnosis, but he would prefer not to.

He gets off on the fact that he can train you to behave just with his words and actions, without the help of any special ability.

Anyways, when he is sure that he has drilled into you what proper behavior is, he’ll employ phase two. He’ll start training you to enjoy the sting of his electricity.

So, whether he's fucking you, giving you head, touching you, or basically providing any sort of pleasure, every time you would be close to reaching your peak, he would send jolts of electricity through you, gradually increasing the dosage over time.

Things would get to the point that a small shock from him would be enough to get you turned on, and bigger shocks would be able to literally make you cum.

ฅ Pet

For the most part, he wouldn’t see secretary!reader as a partner. It’s only after a while, like a year or more, that he would start considering it.

He views them as his romantic interests, but not on his level. To keep face with the other Vees, even though they both knew about his crush from the beginning because he was so obvious with it, he would call you his pet.

Sometimes literal ‘pet names’ like puppy, kitty, bunny, etc. (Personally, I would love for him to call him his bunny <3.)

What he calls you all depends on your appearance and behaviors. For example, if you manifested with a more feline appearance, he would call you his kitten or kitty. If you didn’t have animal-like features but for example, were very needy, had a tendency to follow around, and were a sucker for praise, he would likely call you his puppy.

𓌏 Punishments

Besides using electric shocks, he is definitely into spanking as a form of punishment—whether it involves pulling down your pants or lifting your skirt, spanking you for every ‘transgression’ you’ve committed is something he’s totally down for.

It can be a really strange experience if you weren't a masochist to begin with because he'll end up having you conditioned to enjoy physical punishments;

For example, he would be spanking you, and you find yourself getting turned on, arousal literally leaking due to his rough treatment of your behind.

Edging and overstimulation are also big in his book, though each has its own set of circumstances where they would be implemented.

For instance, if you weren't paying attention to him because of someone else, he would overstimulate you to the point where you couldn't think about anyone but him, asserting his superiority over whoever had your attention.

If you weren't paying attention for any other reason, he would edge you, because ‘how dare you ignore him when he should be the most important to you!’.

Thanks anons for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 8 months ago

Text

It Had To Be You

Before I get into my big explaining rant, reblogs are very much appreciated! I know this is usually a rant blog but when I spend so long on a drawing I want to have people see it and stare at it like I do LOL

Also for the ALT text, a lot of the details are going to be explained below so if you’d like extra details please read!

So, my designs! I really hate Husk’s design; as in I hate drawing it. It’s too red and tiny for me, Husk is very orange and round to me, he’s like a really chubby cat that you flip over in the bed and smack their belly and kiss em. He also kinda reminds me of Tigerstar from Warriors but like if he was a more morally correct person. Kind of. I removed all of the red from Husk and replaced it with little motifs of orange and brown like in his ears, his eyebrows, wings, and the little patch on his snout. For his wings I tried to base them around a Brown Thrasher because they fit the colour I needed and they’re very defensive birds which is a trait I’d like to see in Husk more. Seeing him protecting others with his wings in Episode 8 was a very cute touch and I want more of that. Oh and the little orange bit on his snout was based on one of my old cats named Whiskey and I thought that was fitting cause yknow. Whiskey. 🥃. Also it’s cute!

Part of Husk’s orange colouration also falls under some inspiration I received from @bluehazardanonymous whom you may see on my blog again. But they sent me a very interesting colour chart and it made my brain go funny

Husk’s design has a lot of orange, yellow, and small hints of red like his undone bowtie and hat band/ace of hearts card. The orange for gluttony is mostly related to alcohol and such, meanwhile the yellow in his eyes, shirt patch, and on the button on his hat are to show greed from things like gambling and possible leftovers from being an overlord. I don’t think you can just go from being all powerful to some random bartender and NOT have some kind of thirst for power right???? That also bleeds into the red parts (haha cause blood red) to keep his design on the warm side and have a little bit of anger in there.

His clothes are also supposed to look a bit sloppy and kinda sad cause I mean. He is. But they are also all relatively formal items of clothing. By the way I’m never drawing this guy shirtless, sorry you need to beg and pay for that/j

Now for Angel. With Angel being pink-ish and how I usually draw the rest of Hell, I try to make Hell more gross looking and greenish/sickly, generally unpleasant, so that Angel is more eye catching and pops out more like a celebrity would. A lot of the cast in my head is more orange/maroon coloured, not a lot of pink or salmon colours. Of course pink is under lust on the colour wheel, but I personally don’t like chalking Angel up to just his job, nor do i really like using “true” pink. I always keep him in this range:

Also that white is not for him it’s for other things, I always make him a cream-ish colour. I like pink with red undertones always, especially for Angel. It shows his job very blatantly if you take a simple glance at him, but if you’re nuts like me and colour pick from these that I use, you’ll see a lot of them are closer to red, rather than the bright pink-ish-purple colour for lust. And also closer to his original more purple design!

I think it goes without saying that Angel has a lot of pent up anger and frustration that he hides with his persona and humour, and I think trying to show some of that in his colours is a lot more interesting than just haha pink gay spider. I dunno.

Also I thought these little cowlick flip thingies on the side were really cute

I was originally going to make the sign in the back purple since that’s usually the colour of most XXX signs in Hazbin, but the yellow makes everything else look a lot more dingy and gross while still being bright and I love that. Also the yellow is kind of a shallow jab of my own at the adult entertainment industry, a lot of this stuff is just people being exploited for money but I will go on a tangent about this if I don’t shift topic!! Anyway. A lot of the background isn’t super visible, but based on the colours I was kinda going for a more envy & wrath & greed section of the pride ring. Just seems like a good place to smoke. The rain doesn’t hold much symbolism to it but it is there to make the area seem more unpleasant. Yknow how it rains sometimes and the sewage in the street comes up? Like that.

Im really happy with a bunch of stuff in this art. 10 hours, 184+ layers, and 11751 strokes is probably the most I have ever done for.. anything????? Even if you don’t like the art I hope you appreciate the long rant LOL

Be sure to have a good day and drink something ‼️

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fanfictiongirlie · 25 days ago

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Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter Eight

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,329

My eyes were finally back to Amber, I was so happy.

I decided to make my dress for Bella and Edwards' wedding, a little skill I had picked up when I was human, and continued as a vampire. The dress was beautiful, I decided to got with a charmeuse cut, it was modest enough to only show my boobs a little, and the dress dipped down the show my back., along with a slit on the left leg side. It was a gorgeous aqua colour and I had a pair of heels to match. And I couldn't wait for Paul to see it.

I decided as my dress was busy, I'd keep my hair simple, putting it in a half bun, half down, I curled it as well.

Alice and Rosalie helped Bella get ready, I stayed downstairs, welcoming guests.

"Y/N" A voice suddenly gasped, I had hoped it was Paul. But Mike walked in, followed by Jess, Angela and Eric. "You look stunning" Mike added, I smiled and thanked him.

"Save me a dance later?" He then asked. I shrugged, feeling slightly awkward. Jess smiled at me, and then asked.

"Is this because Bella got knocked up?"

I rolled my eyes, and directed them in to where they could sit.

"And I thought It was impossible for you to get more beautiful!"

I turned around to see Paul, Billy and Seth. I smile widened. I skipped over and threw my arms around Paul. "I missed you" I whispered in his ear, I could feel him smile against my cheek. He wrapped his arms around me and I felt hands touch my back making me shiver. The only time I felt warm was when he touched my skin. I was obsessed with it.

I pulled away, and greeted Billy and Seth. Billy was polite, but I could feel he didn't want to be here, and he didn't feel safe. Seth however, greeted me with a smiled and a hug. It made me giggle.

"If you'd like to go in, you have some seats with your names on them, together" I smiled. Esme suggested Paul sit with me and the family, but I thought that might scare him off.

After a little while, everyone had arrived, Alice said I could sit down along with our family. I walked towards them at the very front, but stopped at Paul to steal a quick kiss, and then rushed to my seat next to Jasper. We decided, since there were so many humans here today, that Jasper was on guard duty to keep my mood as calm and content as he possibly could.

Soon, Edward was at the front of the isle, looking probably the smartest I'd ever seen him. There was a part of me, that was focusing on Paul, whom was only a few rows back from me, I could feel his imprint if I concentrated enough. It made me feel so warm and loved.

The music started, Bella and Charlie started walking down the isle, looking so fancy. Bella's dress was amazing, she looked so beautiful. I was still jealous of her shoes, I want those shoes. I may have to buy myself some.

After a few minutes, the wedding started, everyone sat down and listened to the couple say their vows. I must admit, this part of weddings bored me, I think I only really enjoyed the party part, I could drink and dance until my heart felt content. I was also very excited to have a dance partner the entire evening. I looked back slightly, to see Paul, his eyes on me not Bella and Edward. I smirked, and blow a kiss. He pretended to catch it.

God we were cringe. I love it.

Finally the party had begun. Everyone was dancing it was great, Well everyone but Paul, he was standing with Billy, whilst I was talking to Carmen, we were having the blood talk and even from here I could see Paul frowning.

"I'm so glad you haven't fed again Y/N" Carmen smiled, I nodded in agreement.

"Paul helps a lot" I smiled, Paul's head pricked up at the sound of his name.

"Paul? Your boyfriend?" She asked, I nodded, and pointed him out. He didn't look the happiness. I knew it was difficult to be around this many vampires.

"A wolf?" She questioned. I nodded.

"If you'll excuse me" I smile, walking over to Paul, and holding my hand out. "Care to dance?" I asked.

He smiled, taking my hand, I could feel his anxiety. I hated how I couldn't help.

"Like our first meeting" He smiled, putting his warm hands on my lower back, as I put my arms around his neck, I felt his goosebumps against my arms.

"Our first meeting was at Sam's, remember?" I asked, resting my head on his shoulder. He chuckled.

"I thought maybe, we could just say prom was our first meeting"

I nodded, agreeing. That was a nicer memory.

We swayed for a little while, happy in our own little bubble, actually I think it may have been for a long time. It was light out when we started dancing, it was now dark out. I loved being in Paul's arms. It made me feel content. Safe. And I could feel how happy he felt too, he felt exactly how I felt. I was starting to fall hard.

Suddenly, Paul's head perked up away from resting on mine.

"What?" I asked. His head cocked to the side like he was listening, I copied and listened.

"Jacob" We both whispered. He nodded, and grabbed my hand, we rushed outside where Bella, Edward and the wolves were in their human form.

Sam was trying to calm Jacob down, and Bella looked like she was ready to cry.

"Jacob, leave it!" Sam yelled. Jacob growled and ran off into the woods.

"Seth, Paul let's go!" Sam added, I frowned and took hold of Paul's hand. "Don't go" I whispered. He looked at me with those sad puppy dog eyes.

"I have to obey" He whispered back, kissing my forehead and leaving.

I turned to Edward and Bella. "Well, the night is still young" I said, trying to smile.

I rushed back inside and felt a rush of calm wash over me. I spotted Jasper in the corner and smirked. I stalked over to him.

"Care to dance?" I asked, smiling. He nodded and took my hand.

"I'm sorry Paul had to leave" He frowned and spun me around.

I spent the rest of my night dancing with each family member and few other people. Until it was time for Edward and Bella to leave. We all said our goodbyes, and I retreated to the house to get into casual clothes, which meant leggings and a tank top. I caught Carlisle before I left.

"I'm going to go see Paul" I smiled, and he nodded..

I ran to the boarder and stepped over, I was still cautious.

I started walking towards Sam's house, when I realised I didn't know where Paul lived. I pulled out my phone when I was at the edge of the forest and dialled Paul's number.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Hey Paul, it's me. Wanna meet up?" I asked, kicking some leaves about.

"Sure, I'll text you my address, my dad isn't home, so we can chill here if you want" He suggested.

"Sure" I almost squeaked. I hung up and looked at his address. I sped there so it was mere seconds since Paul and I had spoken. I knocked on the door, still nervous.

He answered it wearing only a pair of jogging bottom shorts. No shirt. He was trying to kill me.

"Hey" He smiled "Do I have to invite you in?"

I shook my head giggling. I stepped into his house and shut the door behind me.

"So, whatcha wanna do?" He smirked at me wiggling his eyebrows.

What have I gotten myself into...

Previous Part - Next Part

#paul lahote x reader #fluff #twilight imagine #twilight x reader #paul lahote x y/n #paul lahote x you

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calaisreno · 7 months ago

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Cake

1146 words / Prompt: Laugh

Have some cake. It's my birthday.

Sherlock picks up his fork and examines the slice of cake before him. It’s yellow, with thick white icing and colourful sprinkles.

John and Molly have already tasted their pieces and are talking about something. John makes a teasing remark about hearing aids. Apparently Sherlock has missed the question.

“Hm?”

John smiles at him. It’s a fond smile, but a sad one. Sherlock tries to remember the last time John looked happy. It’s been ages, he thinks. Even the smile on his face now isn’t truly happy.

His wedding, maybe. He did smile a lot that day, but there was something ragged underneath. A kind of exhausted cheer. The days leading up the event were hectic, but it was worth it to give John and Mary a joyous day. Maybe it was relief Sherlock saw in those wedding smiles. Glad to have the big day go well, ready to wake up to a new life.

The day Rosie was born, John’s smile was incredulous, full of wonder. But Sherlock could see he was terrified, too. It was the day it all became real, irrevocable. There was no going back for him and Mary. Nor for Sherlock. John was a father, and had responsibilities.

Unmingled joy. That’s what Sherlock is trying to remember.

That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.

And you invaded Afghanistan.

It was the first time he heard John helpless with laughter. They’d stood inside the front door, leaning against the wall, giggling at the ridiculousness of what they’d just done, running through alleys and across rooftops. Welcome to London.

It was the moment when he first realised he wanted to kiss John. He wanted to hear that giggle of surrender again. To laugh every day with John and keep him forever.

It might have lasted, if Sherlock hadn’t created a problem that could only be solved by dying, leaving John alone for two years.

He’d dreamed of coming home, hearing John laugh at his brilliant resurrection. He’d been so intent on that, he hadn’t realised. It may have been necessary to go away, but his return wasn’t as brilliant as he’d dreamed.

Well, then. Neither of them has been happy.

“You haven’t even tasted it,” John is saying.

“Oh.” He lifts a bite to his mouth, smells vanilla, feels the icing melt on his tongue. “Delicious.” It is, and he takes another bite, even though he’s not hungry.

John is smiling at him.

He can’t stop thinking about John’s tears, just a half an hour ago in the flat.

I’m not the man you thought I was.

It’s not okay.

Well, it is what it is. John hasn’t been happy for a long time, he thinks.

Though they never spoke of it, he knows John had mixed feelings about the marriage. A part of him loved Mary, but even though he forgave her, he never forgot: what have I ever done… my whole life… to deserve you?

Mary wasn’t supposed to be like that. But she was.

Sherlock wasn’t supposed to come back, but he did.

John was supposed to be happy. He wasn’t.

Sometimes he thinks John might have been happy if Sherlock had stayed dead. He would have got over his best friend dying in front of him. He would have married and lived in the suburbs with his wife and child. His wife wouldn’t have shot Sherlock, and she wouldn’t have died, trying to protect him. He wouldn’t be raising his child alone.

He eats his cake silently, pressing his fork into the last crumbs.

“You’ve been quiet,” John says as they walk back to 221B.

“Hm.”

“About earlier… I’m sorry.” He huffs a small laugh. “Mood killer, for sure.”

He stops walking. “John.”

John is two paces ahead by the time Sherlock says his name. He turns and looks at Sherlock, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “What does happiness have to do with anything? Are you happy?”

“Well, no one can be happy all the time. But I consider myself an optimistic person. I expect I will be happy again.”

“Are you…” John licks his lips. “Will you contact her?”

“No. She knows what I am, and doesn’t expect it.”

“Sherlock, I know I was pushing when I said you should… I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want that. I just wish you weren’t so alone.”

“Not so alone. I have you.”

Sherlock resumes walking; John falls into step with him.

“Yeah, a great friend I’ve been.”

“You’re not perfect, John. Neither am I. You shouldn’t hold yourself to an impossibly high standard. Happiness is more important. Do you know,” he says, turning to look at John, “some of my happiest moments have been spent with you.”

John sighs. “We’ve had some good times. I’ll never forget the months we lived together. You saved me. I was so lost, so alone…” Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles wistfully. “Do you remember that night, when we were chasing the cab, and I forgot my cane at the restaurant?” He giggles. “Oh, God. Down alleys, across the rooftops. Welcome to London. That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever done.”

Sherlock smiles. “Wanna see some more?”

“What are you saying?” John halts.

Sherlock turns and faces him. “Come back. Move in with me, you and Rosie.”

John is gazing at him, his eyes soft. “Do you know what I wished for that night?”

“What did you wish, John?”

He looks down at his feet. “I wished… that I could spend the rest of my days running after you, trying to keep up. Giggling at crime scenes, running all over London, coming home and sitting in the evenings…” He sighs. “It can’t be like it was before. I have a child.”

“Another adventure I look forward to. We’ll hire a nanny, solve all the boring cases, and you’ll write them up for the blog. We’ll be together.” He puts his hands on John’s shoulders. “Come back to me.”

John shakes his head gravely. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Rosie’s a baby, and soon she’ll be toddling around, getting into everything.”

“That’s what babies do. They grow into children, and eventually leave home. And you’ll miss her then. I want to see her grow up, too. I want to be there when you send her off to uni. I want to help plan her wedding, hold your first grandchild. I want to retire to a cottage in Sussex with you and keep bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes, John. Do keep up. If you don’t like bees, you ought to have plenty of cases to write up by then.”

John brushes tears from his eyes. “What are you saying?”

In answer, he puts his arms around John. “You said love would complete me as a human being. I’m saying, it already has.”

#mayprompts2024

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monodramatic-cannibal · 4 months ago

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Realized I never posted my Crossmare ship kid.

So here's Raiden :D I will put into for him under the cut if ayone is curious about him.

Head Canon voice: (Wanderer ((English)) from genshin impact) (Personality wise he's also quite similar to Wanderer too)

More info on his design:

He’s actually goop like Nightmare, it's just his goop is different colours. Has claws which they’re red like the marking on his face. When viewing his eye from the side the star pupil can be seen slightly above his eye. The skeletal things on his tentacles can be shot out/thrown as a sort of weapon can regenerate. The main necklace part is actually a gem. His legs have the same gradient that's on his face (the dark to light, doesn’t have red in the gradient on his legs)

Some info on family:

Raiden was raised primarily by Nightmare and Cross, but had the rest of the murder trio to look after him too. To him Killer is like an older brother, whereas Dust and Horror more so feel like uncles to him. Nightmare was the one to give him an education, as well as Raiden picking up a sharp tongue from him. Cross was the one to train him in combat in both physically fighting and being combat smart too. As well as dealing with Raiden’s emotional needs. (Both Nightmare and Cross may do the other’s role from time to time. E.g. Rai learning more dumb insults from Cross, or Nightmare providing a more logical emotional approach to a situation)

The way Nightmare and Cross raised Raiden is they both agreed to not push Raiden in a direction to be good or bad. Both of them would like Raiden to be a better person than them. But they know they can’t say much given how they are, especially now with how smart Raiden is, if they tried to push him to be good he’d probably use it against them. So they feel they made the right call with raising him.

Raiden was about before Dream/Nightmare made the truce, Nightmare kept Dream from knowing about Raiden, not wanting his enemy to know about his kid. But Nightmare never talked bad about Dream around Raiden, wanting Raiden to make his own opinions on Dream without his input. A year or two after the truce became a thing (around when Raiden was 14) Nightmare did tell Raiden if he wanted to go seek out his brother he could, but Raiden didn’t care too much to know him. Dream (and his group) only found out about Raiden recently.

Raiden doesn’t care too much about Dream or his group. Nor does he make much of an effort to get to know them. Finds them weird.

Who Raiden feels is his family: Nightmare: Dad (on rare occasions calls him Old Man) Cross: Pa / Pops Killer: (older brother figure) Dust: (Uncle figure) Horror: (Uncle figure) Error: (unsure but sees him as family) (will add more when I figure out more about Rai)

His magic/attacks/etc:

A lot of the magic he can preform have an ‘X’ theme to them. E.g. things like this (this being one of Arlecchino’s attacks in genshin, but I’m stealing its look for Raiden)

When his attacks aren’t ‘X’ themed they tend to look like lightning bolts (him living up to his name)

He can create a small (unseen) bubble around himself, when people enter this bubble they’re in an awake nightmare. Raiden being able to control the space within this bubble manipulating reality within this bubble as if it was a nightmare. Though this drains Raiden very quickly.

He also has blades he can summon. To most these blades appear to be shaped like lightning bolts, when in reality Raiden actually based it off of Cross’s scar. And at this point Raiden is too embarrassed to admit that to anyone.

---------

He doesn’t fully understand how to express emotions or how to understand others emotions. He struggles a bit, he still does express emotions, it’s just they may be a bit random sometimes. E.g. he’s annoyed most of the time, or may find things funny in situations he shouldn’t. He is a good person, and does have manners. It’s just he’s selective on who he decides to offer his polite side too.

Him being somewhat monotone and having a sharp tongue means he tends to upset or anger people who don’t understand how he speaks. He also doesn’t like most people, is very picky with who he decides to get along with. So even if someone can understand him there's a chance that Raiden will just be disgusted with them for no reason. He very much struggles to hold his tongue, often speaking without thinking. Which sometimes lands him in trouble.

Finds it hard to comprehend how others think, especially if they have a drastically different view to him. Will basically have a crisis thinking about how others have thoughts that he doesn’t know. (Not main character syndrome, more so people exist and have their own thoughts and feelings that I can’t understand, and I don’t like that)

He very much adores his family, and as much as he tends to insult everyone (Nightmare is the only one in the group that can escape his insults), he will apologize if he does feel like he’s actually upset one of them.

He is very much a family person, preferring to stick to his family and people they get along with over making his own friends. Doesn’t mean he won’t make his own friends, it’s just easier for him to stick to people who can understand him or explain to others how to understand him.

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Some info on the world/au:

In the world of this au both Nightmare’s and Dream’s group called a truce, Error and Ink also have their own separate truce between them. Basically for them not to cause any drastic positivity/negativity but both (Nightmare/Dream) allowed to step in if the balance of emotions in the multiverse gets out of whack.

The au follows more fanon interpretations of the groups, as well as my own head canons and such, I may or may not change lore as well for some characters.

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mirrored-movements · 1 year ago

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Home Pt.1

(Yandere!Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader)

Synopsis: You've always had the ability to travel through universes, there was never a reason as to why and you never paused to question it. However, there was someone else who began to question it.

Warnings: Idk None?

Part 2 Here

“Stop running! It’ll make things a lot easier!”

“Well stop chasing me!”

Brightly coloured portals opened one after another, only allowing you a second to peer around the surrounding dimension before another took its place quickly after entering another portal.

Your heart thundered from within your chest; shoes skidding across the cement sidewalk of the Renaissance-type dimension you’d ended up in. The painted civilians quickly moved out of the way- now whether it was because of you or your pursuer you didn’t know.

How in the hell did you even end up in this situation you may ask?

Easily actually. (Not really though- buckle up because its a long story)

Since the day you were born and since every day after that you were blessed with an ability that nobody else seemed to have. The ability to traverse the multiverse. It was an accident at first, back when you were a teenager you’d accidentally opened up a portal; the brightly colored tunnel nearly calling to you.

And, like an idiot- you dove in. The need for an adventure nagging at the back of your mind despite not knowing what would become of it.

The multiverse was vast, full of things you’d never seen and people you’d never met.

Talking animals, flying cars, dinosaurs, and the ones that seem to enamor you the most? Superheroes. You never thought they’d actually exist however in the amount of time you’d spend traveling around you’d come across your fair share of them.

Few spared you merely a wave as though you were one of their many adoring fans while others- others weren’t as friendly as you’d hoped. It seemed like a few people were aware of the multiverse, the categories of aliens, sorcerers, and a collection of arachnid-themed heroes namely- your experiences with them remain mixed as it seemed some particularly didn’t like the thought of someone from another universe stepping into theirs.

You did, however, end up meeting a particularly friendly individual. He was hesitant at first which was a given when you appeared out of nowhere, however, he seemed to understand the multiverse more than those you’ve met previously- the reason being he himself had traveled through it.

Albeit accidentally but the man couldn’t help but mention how there was a society of others who did the same.

Spider-people is what you learned the “club” was formed up of; a general ‘I was bitten by a spider and have powers now’ group of people who each protected their fair shares of dimensions.

“What I do wonder though is how you travel around?” He couldn’t help but inquire on that, the spider-sense he possessed hadn’t quite tingled in the way it normally did around other spider-like individuals, leading him to question you. It wasn’t like you had a watch like he did either.

“Oh, I can just-” Raising a hand you waved it through the air, a brightly coloured tunnel popping up quickly before closing just as fast as it opened. “Make them appear.”

This spurred on a list of questions, all of which the man openly asked before groaning as his phone had seemingly gone off. “Sorry about that. I have to pick up Mayday from daycare.”

Recalling how he excitedly told you about his daughter you nodded your head in understanding, hand waving. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll see you around Peter.” Upon raising your hand another portal had opened, and you jogged towards it with a smile disappearing with a flash.

You thought Peter was a good person, and thought his daughter was cute- however he on the other hand wasn’t sure what to think about you. You seemed nice, no malice could be detected however he wasn’t sure about the ability you possessed.

During his time working in the multiverse, he thought something like that was impossible for an individual to have- even more so that you could just freely move back and forth without glitching.

Did that mean anything? He wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t sure at all.

“She can- What?”

Absentmindedly following after his escapee of a daughter Peter spoke once again, his tone nonchalant. “Yeah, so she can just wave her hand around and open up portals to wherever- Mayday! Come back here.” The aforementioned baby had quickly begun crawling up a pillar as he tried to explain.

Rolling back his shoulders from where he stood among an elevated platform the tall man let out an exasperated breath, red and blue clad hand raising to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This doesn’t make sense, surely there was som-”

“There was no device Miguel, nothing at all. Nope, nada, zip, just a wave and boom portal. Wasn’t even like how those wizards open them either- I don’t think they can access the multiverse with those rings.”

“Sorcerers, and if there's no device then there has to be something else, a normal person can’t do that.” Miguel emphasized his words trying to show that this should be something they should worry about. Someone with the capability to jump from world to world could inevitably lead to the whole thing potentially collapsing.

And he couldn’t have that.

“Lyla,” At the mention of her name the AI quickly popped in, her hands laced behind her back awaiting what he was going to ask. “Scan for any anomalies, narrow it to ten-second intervals nothing larger than that.”

“I don’t really see a probl-” “You know what the problem is.” Cutting Peter off Miguel stared down at the man, lips pursed into a fine like before his shoulders relaxed a little and he sucked in a breath. “Better safe than sorry.”

Turning his attention back to the holographic screens before him, Miguel clenched his jaw a little at the lack of data, a short glare being sent to the floating AI who merely shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like anything showing up.”

Leaning onto the keyboard he thought for a second, eyes glancing back to Peter who had finally rangled Mayday back into her carrier. “She was in your dimension, right?” Calling out he watched the man give a nod, attention quickly moving back to Lyla. “Check anything on Earth-616B.”

“There is one signature. Looks like,” Moving her hands across the air Lyla enlarged the small red dot. “She’s on Earth-199999.” At the mention of that specific place, both men seemed to let out a groan, Miguel right away pointing a hand toward Peter. “Since you found this out you go.”

“What? But I hate that place, they’re so- Patriotic.” Receiving a quick glare his complaining stopped, hands raising in surrender. “Fine. Fine. But you’re watching Mayday.”

“I didn’t agree to tha-” “I’ll be back!”

Having been wandering around for a while you couldn’t help but yawn, this universe seemed to have its fair share of action however it didn’t quite strike you as interesting- maybe a little overcrowded by heroes but you digress.

With your hands laced behind your back, you followed the park's pathway only stopping as someone had run over to you, the appearance of Peter caused you to smile and it seemed as though things were getting interesting as the man quickly explained that the leader of the aforementioned spider society would like to meet with you.

Scary yet exciting, you were inclined to accept the invite wanting to know what this whole thing was about as well as craving a little more excitement.

More than just traversing dimensions.

This time around you let Peter open up a portal, the spider suit-clad man using what seemed to have been a futuristic watch in order to do so quickly motioning for you to follow.

Upon stepping foot into the HQ building, you couldn’t help but stare in awe. As briefly mentioned all types of spider-people littered the building, and by littered you meant they were everywhere; on the ceiling, walls, swinging around on webs- everything.

“Oh, before we go see Miguel I’ll just pass you this.” Digging into the pocket of his robe Peter passed you a small blue wristband, a look of ‘I know I know’ passing over his face at the questioning look you’d given him. “It’s a day pass. Usually, we use it for other reasons but in this case, it’s so everyone knows you’re a guest here.”

At the explanation, you gave him a nod slipping on the flimsy wristband, trailing alongside the brunette as he pointed here and there practically giving you a tour all the while heading towards where you’d assumed this boss was.

“Is Miguel this guys name or..”

Noting how you trailed off he nodded right away. “Oh yeah Miguels his name, pretty scary at first but I assure you he’s just secretly a big teddy bear- kinda.”

Reassuring.

“Comforting.” Musing that out with an eye roll the two of you entered into a large room, the vast majority of it was dark in colour save for some royal blue highlights a dimly lit orange screens. Your eyes followed where Peter looked seeing a platform sitting within the center of the room, the large piece beginning to drift down. “So why am I here again.” Keeping your tone low and hoping for some light to be shed on the situation another voice other than Peters had answered.

The tone of it was gruff but clear enough to call out from the descending platform. “You’re here so we can find out if you are a threat or not.”

“A threat?” Taken aback at the implication you gestured to yourself for a moment despite the platform still lowering and despite this Miguel still making what you’d call a ‘grand appearance.’ Throughout your years of dimension jumping you had yet to actually do something illegal. “I’d like to think I’m the least threatening person you’ll meet.”

Finally, the platform had lowered enough for you to see the man standing among it. His tall stature right away shouted ‘authority’ as muscle clearly rippled beneath his neon red and dark blue suit. His face was stoic, chiseled features were framed by moderately messy brown locks all the while dark brown hues nearly stared through you, an off-red tint to the colour.

Despite how intimidating he seemed your gaze couldn’t help but drift down towards his hands seeing them holding a familiar small red-haired child like how someone would pick up a cat. The little girl's gaze lit up almost instantly upon seeing Peter, who in turn right away moved to step onto the platform once it had almost merged with the floor. Coos left the man as he right away scooped up his daughter from the other man.

“Look who it is! Look it’s your friend! Yay!” Pointing towards where you stood Peter began to rile Mayday up, the small baby giggling while they neared, her small hand inevitably reaching out to you.

Forgetting the whole purpose of the visit for a second you and Peter were only brought back when Miguel loudly cleared his throat, a disapproving look quickly crossing his face as he’d crossed his arms unamused.

Waiting for the two of you to quiet down he stepped off his platform, the souls of his suit padding against the ground as he moved to loom before you. “Back to what I was saying.” Pausing to make sure you were listening he continued. “We need to make sure you’re not an anomaly. Something that could cause a disruption in the multiverse.”

“One wrong step and you could cause it to collapse.”

Taking in what he’d said you swallowed thickly, you hadn’t really thought much of your dimension jumping, however with what he was saying you supposed they had a right to be worried.

“And how do you make sure that doesn’t happen?”

Uncrossing his arms he rested them on his hips, eyes regarding you with a mix of interest and caution. “We do some tests. Either way you’ll be here for awhile.”

This had you raising a brow in question. “What? Why?”

“Because if you decline to do some tests we’ll have to assume you are an anomaly and would have to be locked up whereas if you comply to do them we can figure out the actual answer to your…ability.” Explaining that he quirked his head to the side, gaze intently focused on you as if expecting you to decline to take the harsher route.

Glancing towards Peter as if for reassurance the man have a quick shrug followed by a short nod, his mouth forming the words ‘you’ll be fine’ as though that would persuade you.

Weighing your options your gaze moved back towards the looming man before you, lips pursed together in thought.

It wouldn’t hurt to know more about your ability…however, if it did come up that you were an ‘anomaly’ who’s to say you wouldn’t be imprisoned anyways.

“Alright,” Noting how Miguel opened his mouth to speak you cut in right away. “But I have a question.”

As if amused by your current state Miguel hummed, hand gesturing loosely in the air. “Ask away.”

“What if you do these tests and I don’t come out as an anomaly? What happens then?”

Pursing his lips at this his hands fell to his sides, mind pondering over the seemingly simple question before producing an almost equally simple answer.

“We send you home.”

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

If you can't tell reader's ability is heavily inspired by America from MOM (Multiverse of Madness). Low key wondered what Miguel would think of it but also- I literally need more yandere Miguel fics like PLEASE HE HAS FANGS AND CLAWS DAMN IT

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thearchercore · 5 months ago

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As a film major undergrad and then entertainment business major post grad. The artistic elements of the F1 movie drive me insane AND THEN THE FINANCIAL AND MARKETING ASPECTS TOO!!

Apple is pretty notorious for just blowing huge amounts of money on shows and films that no one watches. So, it’s not even the $300 million budget that surprises me . It’s how little anyone seems to understand what this film is about or who it’s even for!! AND I CANT EVEN TELL WHERE THE MONEY FOR THIS FILM HAS GONE EXCEPT ON BRAD PITTS PAYCHECK BECAUSE THE TRAILERS COLOUR GRADING IS SO BAD IT CANT POSSIBLY BE ON POST

Maybe it was just a terrible trailer but the reason films like Rush and Le Mans 66 (Ford v Ferrari in some countries) is that they had something for both racing and non racing fans.

Both based on true stories, with a compelling emotional core, recognisable actors (appeals to non racing fans mainly). Beautiful cinematic shots of cars going fast appeal to racing fans because those are views that you don’t usually get watching an actual race.

the fixed cam shots of the drivers in the cars do nothing!! Because non racing fans will find them boring and racing fans would just rather watch a real race. Not Brad Pitt fucking about in an F2 car (which racing fans on Twitter have picked up on already!) The jet shots in top gun maverick (same director) worked because, hey people don’t usually see that sort of stuff, especially not from a pilots POV, but we see fixed cam POV shots from car races all the time!! AND HOW ARE YOU DOING AUDIO FOR THAT??? is just going to be Brad Pitt breathing heavily the entire time??

The exaggerated noises and car movements are fun to watch because F1 cars don’t move like that anymore! We don’t get to hear that classic WHOOOSHHH. hell even Michael manns terrible Ferrari movie was FUN because the story was interesting and the shots of the cars driving very fast around very scenic parts of Europe is entertaining.

F1 (2025) is not based on a true story and the trailer was way more focused on the cringe “car for combat” line rather than what might actually make for an emotionally compelling story. An old racer thrown aside by the sport being dragged back to help an up and coming racer because that’s the only way he’s able to get back in a car. For the first time in his career He’s now the number 2 driver.

But it seems like we will get none of that and if we do the writing will be…uh bad!

ALSO THE TWITTER MARKETING!!! Who is that for!!! The only people who are interacting with that are already your target audience (F1 fans) they know the movie exists, they’ve already made up their minds about whether they are going to see it or not. And if non f1 fans see it they’d just be confused about it being a real f1 team and likely just ignore it. If this is your early marketing what on earth are you going to do next!! You can’t get Brad Pitt to do stunt drives for promotions cause he’ll probably die!! You are relying on name recognition to get non f1 fans to go the theatre and sign up to Apple TV for this and you didn’t even say FROM THE DIRECTOR OF TOP GUN MAVERICK in your trailer when that was the second highest grossing film of 2022 and had pretty much universal critical acclaim!!!!

Brad Pitts old ass was also a terrible choice for this movie. Micheal Fassbender was right there!!! He’s literally done Le Mans, had an entire Porsche YouTube doc about his training and hypercar race attempts. And at 47, is a very believable age to play “retired driver but still young enough to come back” and he’d likely have been able to a lot of drives/stunts himself.

I also dread to think how the real drivers are being included in this. I get wanting authenticity but these boys may look like models and actors but they are not!!! If anything I feel like it’d just ruin the emersion of the film because how jarring it’ll be to see real drivers, with their real names in a fictional movie!!

This movie makes me crazy, it’s only been 1 trailed and some BTS info and I’m already like this. Watching the actual film ( which I do encourage people to pirate btw don’t give Brad Pitt money) is going to kill me

i will be very surprised if they do pull it off because every move they've done so far was just objectively bad. naming it f1? awful. the ip will get lost in search engine tools because Real F1 will overshadow it. the trailer? no plot. brother is building a car for combat as if the FIA would allow anything like that. the closest we got was mclaren putting spikes on their car this year.

the trailer showed us zero plot, introduced zero stakes in the story. okay you're building a car, why? why do you want to win? what is the driving force of the story? the emotional core? why do i want to root for brad pitt's character if my driver is an actual character in the story??

so far the only people excited for it are real f1 fans that are going to see it to see max verstappen walk in the background in IMAX for 4 seconds. and those people take it as a joke, a hatewatch even.

they all know the f1 drivers can't act... like this whole thing seems so insane to me i cant believe how its an actual thing that's being filmed lol

and dont get me started on how the filming is taking two years (also bc of the strikes last year). two teams have completely different name. cars look different. suits look different...... like if they're fixing all in post god bless that team bc they'll be using more VFX than marvel

#f1 movie discourse

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rainforestakiie · 2 months ago

Text

Adamsapple Month Harvest

Apple Picking~

@adamsappleweek

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

peacock adam is inspired by @inubaki

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

First man?

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

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

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

“Mother?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~#~

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

For what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mother.”

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

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

Another apple began to grow above them.

~#~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adam blinked, his mind scrambling to catch up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever it was, it left him breathless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O-Okay. I promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~#~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~#~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~#~

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

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

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

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

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

“Boo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You what?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Trick? You were trying to trick me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You should leave."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lucifer…"

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

"Don’t come back."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lucifer.

The one who was never supposed to come back.

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

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

~#~

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

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

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

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

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

The greatest story, huh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~#~

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

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

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

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

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

Lucifer had returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~#~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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beingsuneone · 11 months ago

Text

Sunset & Vine

PART ONE | PART TWO

SYNOPSIS: one year was all you had, and the winners of the previous hunger games. You didn’t know them that well, but they were still youre only friends. Now you’re thrown back into the Games with some new confusing feelings.

FANDOM: The Hunger Games

PAIRING(S): Peeta Mallark x Victor!Reader

RATING: G

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Peeta Mellark, Katniss Everdeen, Haymitch Abernathy, Coriolanus Snow, Johanna Mason, Finnick Odair, Effie Trinket, President Coin, Gale Hawthorne

GENRE/AU: Dystopia, Angst, a very small amount of comfort,

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

WARNINGS: Katniss is slightly OOC, Canon divergent in some ways but not others, CATCHING FIRE AND MOCKINGJAY SPOILERS, Reader won the 74th hunger games and Peeta and Katniss won the 73rd.

A/N: Jjj, I’ve really got to stop writing stories with ending like this. Lemme know if you want part two. FYI!!! Changed a few words that completely changed the context and set up for the next part.

DEDICATIONS: Peeta my beloved

CREDITS: Taylor Swift for the name (Gorgeous - Taylor Swift)

It’s a woman, standing with her back to you— she has similar hair to yours and an almost protective stance to her. A haze of colour surrounds her… oranges, purples and yellows swirled into an indescribable but beautiful mess.

Peeta Mellark may be a fellow victor, and he may be one of your neighbours, but you know nothing about him. Except for this beautiful painting that he gifted you.

She wears a dress that flows in some sort of assumed breeze, and has a hand tentatively braced in her hair; there’s something so familiar about this scene that you can’t place— something familiar about the woman in particular.

You can’t place it.

You run your fingers along the small note that Peeta had left with the painting, hovering over the loopy cursive of his signature; it’s the same on the painting but it’s too beautiful to touch like that.

Last year, you won the seventy-fourth annual hunger games, and became a legend for getting district twelve two wins in a row— right alongside Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, Who won the seventy-third hunger games.

Thank god the months of parading you around were over and you could settle happily into your gigantic house by yourself.

Well, happily might be an over statement— you had no family, and certainly no friends… unless Haymitch counts but you don’t think he does.

So this painting feels extra special— a warmth in an otherwise cold and unfamiliar home.

“Where should I put it?” Muttering to yourself, you mentally scan the layout of your house; you’d want it to be in a place where you could see it often, but also somewhere where any house guest would be able to see it… yeah. House guests.

After shaking your head uselessly, you settle on hanging it in the entryway. For sure people would see it there.

You’d been putting off doing this for a couple of days, just because you hadn’t had a whole lot of energy to do anything but sit in a chair and half-read a novel.

So, after a few minutes of fiddling and messy calculations, the painting is hung in the entryway.

You take one last glance at the swirling coloured background once more, and then turn away, leaving the comfort and fantasy behind.

……

Victors are supposed to have immunity, they’re supposed to be done with the games for the rest of their miserable, trauma ridden lives.

But the seventy-fifth hunger games brings back all of the worst parts of last year— you know that out of the three other victors, you’re the female they want to get picked. You’re the easy decision, the loner that nobody cares about.

You know the Capitol loves Peeta and Katniss far too much, and you, not enough.

This, stacked on top of everything else the Capitol has put you through… it’s too much.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when there’s a knock at your door.

“Hello?” You say as you open it; Peeta Mellark is standing there with his lip turned down just slightly, his eyes center behind you for a moment before his face softens and lightens.

“Hey. You got the painting.” A smile melts onto his face, and you swear he looks… beyond words when he smiles.

After a long moment of silence, you clear your throat. “What brings you here…?” You stammer awkwardly, cringing at your choice of words.

He sort of— laughs? Chuckles? at you. “We’re talking strategy for the Quarter Quell and we figured we should include you.” His face falls again, and he looks like he’s holding something back.

Your back straightens. “The Quarter Quell isn’t for another few months—”

He nods slowly. “But we’re going to have to do the pre-tour… and they’re pulling names in just a couple weeks.”

The band around his ring finger gleams brightly in the sun, which sends some sort of jealous feeling rolling through you.

You shake your head because you don’t know Peeta Mellark, and, even if he is gorgeous, you don’t get crushes on people you don’t know.

Plus he’s in love and engaged to Katniss Everdeen, even if you did know him well enough to develop a crush.

He glances down, and then quickly yanks the ring off. “It’s, uh— just for the camera’s.” Then he gestures to the painting behind you. “That’s you, you know. I know you’ve never worn a dress like that, but I saw a screencap of you in The Games and inspiration just kind of… hit me.” he trails off at the end and fiddles with the ring in his hand.

“It’s… me?” You say slowly. “We barely know each other, why would you paint me?”

He takes a small breath. “You’re really beautiful, Y/n, I’ve always thought so.”

A breath hitches but you genuinely can’t discern if it’s him or you over the roaring of blood in your ears.

“So…” he starts again. “If you want to join us, we’re heading over to Haymitch’s now.”

“Okay.” You say, sounding more winded than you did before; you stare at him for a few more moments before you step out of the front door and shut it.

You walk silently beside him, trying not to take in his messy blonde hair or pretty blue eyes—and also, failing miserably—

Just as you reach Haymitch’s doorstep, you stop and tug on Peeta’s sleeve to get his attention. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Peeta.”

He looks down at you, the air around you charged with some kind of something that you can’t name, and just as he’s about to reach over to you, the door swings open.

“Why are you guys just standing out here?” Katniss says with her nose scrunched, she eyes you up and then eyes Peeta up in a similar fashion.

At least it wasn’t exclusively you.

Both your heads snap toward her, while Peeta smoothly comes up with a reason. “Y/n was feeling nervous, I was just trying to help calm her nerves.”

Haymitch raises an eyebrow from behind Katniss, and gives Peeta a look.

“Hey, Sweetheart.” He says, as Katniss steps aside and lets the two of you in. There’s a tenderness to his voice that you hadn’t realized you missed so much.

“Hi.” The three of you shuffle into what you think was once a living room but it’s chillingly messy in Haymitch’s house.

“Couldn’t we have done this at someone else’s house?” Peeta says, eying the empty bottles on the floor.

“No.” Katniss shakes her head, shooting Haymitch a glare. “Because everytime we have to talk to him, we have to wake him up with a bucket of water.”

You snort. “I’m sorry— a bucket of water?”

Haymitch cuts in. “Why do you think my hair’s wet? I definitely didn’t take a shower.” There's a water stain that makes his shirt sag, and you wonder how you didn’t notice before. Haymitch clears his throat. “Moving on; if it’s Katniss and Peeta then we can still milk the whole star-crossed lover thing— if it’s me or Y/n… that won’t work.”

“Y/n shouldn’t go.” Peeta interjects; you’re taken aback by it.

You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I really thought I was the best person to go.” You pause, looking up at the three of them. “It’s not like there’s anyone here that will care if I don’t come home.”

Haymitch gives Peeta a scrutinizing look. “Look, Lover-boy, we know you have a crush but that isn’t enough for Katniss to volunteer herself if Y/n gets picked.”

Peeta looks to you and then back to Haymitch. “Katniss and I are the Capitol’s favourite couple right now, if we went we’d probably be much better off in terms of sponsors and parachutes.”

“And you don’t want her to go.” Haymitch gestures in yours and Katniss’s direction.

Peeta sighs but doesn’t deny it. It makes sense that he wouldn’t want his fiancé to go back to the Games.

“Peeta is right,” Katniss starts, “but, Haymitch, if you get picked… Peeta should stay. Either way.”

Peeta shakes his head. “No. I’m not staying.”

You cut in. “There’s no good reason why I should stay.” You’re basically the only clear answer; if you get picked you’ll go, and, if Katniss is picked, you’ll go. “I won’t.”

Now all three of them are staring at you. “If I get picked, Katniss can’t volunteer and if she gets picked, you can’t stop me from volunteering.”

Katniss huffs. “You can’t stop me from volunteering either.”

Really, you could all argue this for hours.

…..

The four of you had never come to a conclusion, and now it’s the day of the Reaping.

Effie stands uncomfortably at the bowl; she doesn’t seem happy about having to pull your names, despite her chipper facade.

“The female tribute for District Twelve is…” she says, digging around in the two slips of paper in the bowl. She finally pulls one out and reluctantly reads it out. “Y/n L/n.” She almost sighs your name.

Katniss’s fingers twitch nervously, like she wants to say something but you shoot her the strongest glare you can muster.

She doesn’t volunteer, and you’re glad for it.

You walk up to the stage, head held high; you know this is the start of the end of your life, so you might as well act more confident than you truly are.

Effie looks at you sadly once you’re settled behind her, and then turns back to the audience. “And… the male tribute for District Twelve is,” she spends another five minutes routing through the two names. “Haymitch Abernathy.” This time her sigh is one of relief.

But the relief does not last long.

“I volunteer!” Peeta says, stepping forward; Haymitch grabs his arm and says something too quiet to hear, and Peeta says something back. His face is full of determination as everyone watches him walk up the stage and stand next to you.

Everyone in your little group wears a look of defeat. Even you.

Only one of you can go home, and you’re going to do your damn best to make sure it’s Peeta Mellark.

…..

“I’m not ready for this.” You say quietly, as you walk down the corridor to your bedrooms on the train. “It’s hardly been a year, Peeta.”

He nods solemnly, not looking at you as you arrive at your door. His is just across the hall.

Peeta gently takes your hand in his and squeezes. “I know. It’s too soon.” He looks angry. “We were never supposed to have to do this again.” He drops your hand before you can reciprocate in any sort of way.

You do feel a little less nauseous though.

“It‘s okay.” You whisper, twitching your fingers and slapping it onto the doorknob. “It’ll be okay.”

Peeta’s eyes rove over you in a scrutinizing manner as though he’s trying to figure some meaning behind your words, but there isn’t one to figure.

Just that it will be okay. Peeta will, if you really just be specific. Peeta will return home, happy and safe.

Ready to live his life with the woman he loves… Katniss.

And you will fade into false glory and distant memory.

…..

“Finnick, Right?” You fidget with your fingers in front of you; Finnick Odair was an attractive man who oozed with confidence and smooth words.

“Want a sugar cube?” He asks slyly, holding one out to you. “They're supposed to be for the horses but— we’re going to die anyway, it won’t matter after that.”

You nod carefully. “Of course, because that would obviously matter if we weren’t already set for death.” You still take the sugar cube from his hand and pop it in your mouth.

You almost gag from it. Pure sugar was… a lot. “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

Finnick chuckles. “But liberating.”

You shake your head but a smile still spreads across your face. “Liberating indeed, Finnick Odair. My last act of rebellion is eating a sugar cube.”

“Devastating, really. To the Capitol, I mean.” He smiles easily at you, before someone catches his attention and he saunters off.

Claudius Templesmith stood not far from you, crooning about something with one of the older tributes.

The older man— Betee, you think— stood, looking indifferent but also invested in Claudius’s ramblings and unnecessary questions.

You were dreading the questions he’d ask you during your second round of interviews.

The last time was time enough for you.

“What’d he want?” Peeta asks, walking up behind you and pulling your attention away from the other party-goers.

“Oh, you know,” you say flippantly, “sugarcubes, secrets, and sarcasm.”

Peeta’s eyebrows furrow in confusion but the smile remains on his face. “Sounds like an interesting conversation.” He extends his arm to you. “Shall we?”

You sigh. “Not like we have much choice.”

….

“I’d give anything to know what’s going on inside your head.” Peeta says softly, fidgeting with the rope in his hands. You’d both decided that learning how to tie some knots would be beneficial.

You chuff, an awkward laugh. “What do you mean?”

His fingers work steadily, and somewhat clumsily, with the rope; there’s something alluring about how sure he can be with his hands.

It makes you think of the painting in your house— the one that you’ll never see again— how patient he must’ve been to complete such a beautiful piece, how still and sure of himself.

“What are you thinking right now, Y/n?” He looks up at you, with those beautiful blue eyes of his.

You shrug. “I was thinking about…” you trail off, because you absolutely cannot say that you were thinking about his hands. A half-truth will have to do. “Your painting. How I’ll never see it again.”

Hip lips pull into a frown. “You’ll see it again, I’m going to make sure of it.”

Sighing deeply, you stand. “You’re the one who has to go home, Peeta, not me.” He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It has to be you.”

….

You don’t have the time to argue about it for the next couple of days, you hardly even see each other.

Now, Cinna is preparing you for the arena. You know that everything he gave was meant for Katniss, he had obviously expected it to be her, or that he wouldn’t style you.

He hadn’t been your stylist, but yours had opted out of this year’s games, claiming it was too painful to watch you go back in.

You hadn’t liked her much the first time around, wanted to change you too much in ways that you most definitely did not like.

Cinna, though, you liked him. Though this would be the last time you saw him.

You were dressed in whatever mandatory suit that they designed for this game, a skin tight suit that looked like you were about to go scuba diving.

“It’s time.” Cinna says, glancing back to the tube at the back of the room. You turn back to it.

“Thank you, Cinna.” You say, bowing your head for him. “It was nice getting to know you.”

He smiles half-heartedly. “It was a pleasure, Y/n.”

You exchange a final goodbye and step into the tube. The sixth second countdown begins as the tube starts to ascend.

It's all water, just water and water and water in a large circle around them. There was also thin sand bars that connected the tubes and the Cornucopia, but you knew you wouldn’t be braving that.

Peeta stands three tubes down, with a morphling, a Career and Johanna between you two.

Twenty seconds.

You stare at him desperately, hoping he’ll stick to the plan and swim towards you; you catch his eyes and he smiles reassuringly. It’s not a genuine smile but it still calms you all the same.

Ten seconds.

You ball your fists, clenching hard.

Nine.

Eight.

God, it’s going to be difficult to get out of the water.

Seven.

Six.

You’re not the strongest swimmer, maybe you should go to the Cornucopia.

Five.

Four.

And it’s a long way to swim, even for someone who does know how. Only experienced swimmers, like Finnick, would have an easy time of it.

Three.

Two.

Then, it occurs to you, maybe those sandbars go all the way to the shore; if you get to the Cornucopia, Grab, well, anything, and then flee via the sandbars, you just might be okay.

One.

The pads everyone stands on recede into the water and dumps everyone straight in.

It makes you realize that most of your competitors do not know how to swim.

Peeta is just barely floating thanks to the bright purple belt that had been strapped around all your waists.

You know how to swim at least a little bit , so you unbuckle yours and swim over to him; once it inflates fully, you give it to him and try to drag him towards the sandbars.

It dawns on you all over again that Peeta is a tall guy, and he’s not exactly small either.

He’s strong and his weight definitely shows that; he tries to keep himself afloat but ends up making it worse.

Eventually, you make it over there, and he pulls himself up onto the loose sand; it takes a bit of effort because it’s slippery and keeps moving under your weight.

It’s barely stable enough to be a viable option. Just barely.

You leave him there for a minute and swim to the cornucopia. There's fighting going on on its small platform, but you just snag a small waterproof bag that sits a few yards away; a knife comes flying in your direction, and knicks your face.

The salt of the water stings as it mingles with blood.

When you spin back towards Peeta, he’s struggling and Finnick is approaching him.

You race back as fast as you can.

Finnick already has some pretty gnarly weapons strapped to him.

You’re about to draw the knife on him when shakes his head. “Relax, Y/n, I’m saving his ass.” Then he lifts a hand out of the water and flashes some sort of bracelet at you.

It’s the alliance bracelets that Haymitch had mentioned.

Oh.

“I-”you start, but you never really had a sentence to begin with.

You just lag silently behind as Finnick helps Peeta to the shore. The closer you get to the shore, the wider the sandbars get, and the sturdier they are as well.

Until they're eventually higher than the water, and wide enough for both Peeta and yourself to walk side by side.

You collapse onto the sand when you finally reach the shore and stay there for only a second.

That’s all you have before the three of you are up and running into the forest in front of you.

….

When Peeta’s heart stops, you're sure that yours does too— you’re sure that, as you stand there in a state while Finnick tries to resuscitate Peeta, you’re also unresponsive and silent. Dead.

True enough, in a way.

The longer you stare at Peeta’s face, still twisted in pain from the shock, the more you feel like dropping to the ground and sobbing.

You tried to imagine the way he painted with camouflage training stuff, drawing intricate designs onto both his and one of the morhpling’s arms.

It had washed off by the next morning but you had spent the whole night longing to touch it, run your fingers along his arm, trace the shapes and swirls.

Beyond the paintings, you recalled his magnetic smile and the way he always made you feel safe and calm, the steady air that he radiated.

You weren’t ready for him to die, he was the one who was supposed to win this, after all. You had resolved that Peeta Mellark was going to be the winner of the 75th Hunger Games and you were going to do whatever you needed to to make that happen. You were even prepared to turn into somebody you weren’t, just to make sure Peeta went home. Or at least, you thought you could if you had to come to it.

But now, you’re ready to give up. Finnick or Johanna could win— and they should. Literally anyone else but you. Everyone who had a life now that Peeta is gone.

You’re just about to collapse to the ground when Peeta starts to cough erratically, and he manages to sit straight up.

“Peeta!” You cry as you fall to the ground next to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He seems disoriented for a moment before he hugs you back, right. “I really thought you were gone.”

He gently strokes your back, as you fuss over him, double checking that he’s okay and checking his burn.

…..

You hear a loud sickening crack from somewhere else in the arena that makes everyone but Johanna and Finnick jump. You feel Peeta’s hand wrap around you protectively and pull you closer to him in the single instant that you’re all reacting to the noise.

It takes a few delayed seconds before each one of you realizes that it’s just the lightning in 12, before you realize just how having Peeta’s hands on you makes you feel.

His fingers slip from your waist, brushing softly as they fall away and leaving you feeling just slightly feral.

You pull yourself away, and dig your nails into your thigh to ground yourself. Getting used to this clock thing was going to be agonizing.

You’re waiting patiently as the lot of you— You, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna and Beetee— come up with a plan to take down the force field and take out the Careers at the same time.

You can barely focus on the conversation because you itch to have Peeta’s hands on you again, to feel his fingers against your skin again.

In fact there’s so many things you’d like to say and do with Peeta that you know you will never have the chance to; not to mention that he is in love with someone else and would never be interested in any of those things with you anyways.

You’re pretty sure you’d been staring at Peeta but you only notice because Finnick shoots a look at you— you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking but it must be something about that.

You try to zone back into the plan.

….

Trying to trap the careers failed miserably, and the person most experienced with a bow was you, but only thanks to Katniss’s training.

Everything was a blur as the force field came down; chaos, fire everywhere— you couldn’t see or hear Peeta.

You worried about him and you laid pathetically on the ground, half out of your mind. You wondered if he was having trouble with his prosthetic leg, or having run from Enobaria or one of the other careers. You wondered if he’d make it out okay, even though it was obvious you wouldn’t.

You wondered and worried for what felt like forever until an airship appeared above you.

Great. You thought, the Capitol has come to torture you and everyone you’ve ever loved until the couldnt anymore and all of you was nothing more than a shell of a person. Until the only option was avox or death.

You can’t move, or fight it as the giant claw, scoops you up.

All that effort and you still managed to condem each and everyone of you to torture.

…..

“Relax, Y/n!” Haymitch snaps, as Finnick restrains you.

Katniss sits on the other side of the table, looking just as devastated as you.

“What do you mean, you didn’t get Peeta? You can’t just leave him there, they’ll hurt him worse than any of us could ever imagine!” You say, still struggling to get away from Finnick.

Katniss actually argues in your favour. “I did say I would only do this thing if you got both her and Peeta.”

Plutarch, the game maker shakes his head redundantly. “Peeta and Johanna were just to far away for us to locate before the Capitols airships came; I’m sorry, we’ll get them back eventually.”

Finnick finally lets you go once you’ve calmed down. He has a solemn look on his face. “I’m sure they’ve got Annie too. We need to save them as soon as possible.”

….

As soon as possible turns into several weeks, several heartbreakingly, agonizingly long weeks.

You can’t help but think about Peeta every moment of every day . You imagine all the terrible things Snow is doing to him, you wish it was you in his place.

Peeta was the one person who never deserved any of this, over anyone else. You and Katniss had been willing to do whatever you needed to to survive, you’d done things maybe you weren’t particularly proud of. But Peeta? He had never let the Games change him.

He had always been the same.

Safe, steady, comfortable, strong.

You don’t even have any hope that they’re showing him any mercy.

They aren’t.

You know now, you know by the way that last interview they aired went— how he was struck just as the cameras shut off, how your heart broke when you looked into his eyes, when you saw just how much they’d hurt him already.

You were just about ready to burst into Coin’s office and tell her that you were getting Peeta now, regardless of the consequences to Thirteen.

Gale and Katniss were fighting a lot lately, tension was heavy between them; and not in a good way. You didn’t know Gale well, but the comments he made about Peeta made your skin crawl and your hands itch to throw a few punches.

Actually they were arguing now, about Peeta, and you were listening.

Gale’s head snaps to you randomly and he barks at you; “and you! Why the hell are you so invested in Bread Boy?”

You startle for a moment, but then narrow your eyes. “What do you mean why am I invested? He’s my— friend.” You say, sounding unsure even to yourself.

Katniss huffs. “I mean, come on, Gale, you know that our relationship has been fake from the start and we—” she gestures between the two of them. “—we’re friends, Gale, we always have been.”

He scoffs, and says something else in a bitter tone but all you can hear is Katniss’s words replaying over and over in your brain.

Our relationship has been fake from the start.

“Shut up for a second!” You snap at Gale, and turn back to Katniss. “Your relationship was fake the whole time? Yours and Peeta’?” You almost feel like an asshole for asking, just in case it is real; but so many things Peeta has done and said make so much more sense recontextualized like this.

Like when he said their rings were ‘just for ten cameras.’ Or when he told you he always thought you were beautiful. Or even the way he tried so hard to convince not to go back into the games.

Both of their faces fall flat, Katniss’s in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” She says.

You shake your head slowly. “No, I-” you stop yourself because you're at a loss for words.

“Y/n, we didn’t try to hide it from you, how did you not know? Even Haymitch said right in front of you that Peeta had a crush on you!”

You deadpan once again. You had blatantly misread everybody’s words in that conversation. “I just assumed that was about you!” You stare at each other for a second longer before you stand up abruptly. “I have to go.”

There was a lot of thinking you had to do and then a lot of planning— and a bit of yelling too.

…..

You were deemed too invested in the mission to actually go on it, and Finnick was too distressed over Annie to be allowed.

So you had been sitting together in silence; the silence was comfortable but the insane amounts of stress running through your veins was enough to make the tension in the air as sharp as a knife. Not between each other but to any other person.

Especially since Gale was allowed to go on the mission, and you felt that was entirely unfair— Gale doesn’t even like Peeta.

It had turned into a whole day of waiting, and only twenty minutes ago, they had returned with Johanna, Peeta and Annie.

The anxiety had grown tenfold when you were both informed you weren’t allowed to see them yet.

Now, you’re standing outside the door where Annie was resting, watching her through the one way window.

Finnick’s eyes are filled with so many you can only pick out one or two; you wonder if your eyes will look similar when you enter Peeta’s room.

You wish him luck and watch as he enters the room; Annie looks like she screams his name and then jumps him. He holds her up, looking like it’s the happiest moment of his life.

Watching them makes you much more excited to see Peeta, although you're not sure it will be quite that exuberant of a reunion.

You walk a couple doors down, glancing in the windows as you do; but you stop when you see Katniss and Johanna in one of the rooms before Peeta’s.

Why in the world is Katniss in the Hospital? What happened?

You push open the door gently, and Katniss doesn’t stir— you take note of the morphling drip in her arm, that must be keeping her knocked out.

You see Johanna is also asleep, her head is shaved and she has the worst tortured expression on, even though she looks to be sleeping soundfully— physically, anyways.

If she’s looking that bad, you can’t help but wonder about Peeta. You’re always wondering about him.

You don’t want to disturb either of their healing so you quickly leave the room, shutting the door as quietly and calmly as you can.

Finally, as you walk out, you spot the guards in front of Peeta’s door; you think it’s a little strange, considering neither Johanna nor Annie had security at the door but you walk towards the door anyways.

The guards hold out a hand as you approach.

“Restricted access, you can’t go in there.” The guard says, almost heartlessly.

Just as he finishes speaking, the door opens and Haymitch steps out and away. You would look through the window but the blinds are down.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, you can’t see him.” Haymitch takes your arm and leads you back down the hallway. “The Capitol… they tortured him so bad he—” Haymitch stops, and looks away for a second before looking back. “He tried to strangle Katniss, and kept yelling about how Katniss was a liar. He’s not himself right now.”

So much for your heartfelt reunion.

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