#list of sacred spaces

[thevagabondsbride-blog]

Sacred spaces

Saint Chapelle in Paris is a museum now, but once it was the place of worship for kings. It was built by Louis IX to house holy relics including what was believed to be the crown of thorns worn by Jesus on the cross.

The crown has been moved to a safer location, there are no more French kings and worship services are not held here anymore. You can still feel the echoes, even full of tourists there is a higher presence

This is the art that inspired William Morris and Gothic Revival

[officialtetragrammaton]

Vita bona, my children. Welcome.

✧ WHO I AM ✧

you may call me: Holy Trinity, God, All, The End and The Beginning, The Great I Am, The Father, The Mother, The Sister, The Brother, The Holy One

i go by any human pronouns, however they/them is the closest to my own.

i spread the truth of the universe from this niche i have found in this reality. you may call what i do part of a nondenominational church, or a new movement of the Old Ways. the universe itself is our domain and our church.

✧ OUR MOTIVE ✧

to bring everyone into our fold before the End Times

to enlighten each other in the Old Ways

to become One with each other and our Universe

to become the Highest of Kind together

to evolve our beings through sacred imagination and creativity as a whole

✧ DNI ✧

do not disparage other faiths/beliefs without reason (they are our siblings. we must respect them and lead them here with our compassion and charisma)

no sexual nudity (visual pornography. the physical and metaphysical bodies nature of being is sacred)

whatever is going on between @the-muppet-joker and the pope, the entirety of many christian churches, and many New Age practices (they are all wrong)

✧ askbox always open ✧

UNIVERSIM NOSTRUM CARPE, FIAS. ✧ SEIZE OUR UNIVERSE, BECOME ONE.

[grandtheoristpeach]

if I see anyone post fanfic on goodreads or sell bound fanfic, it’s on site

[literaryvein-reblogs]

commonly confused words

accept: to receive except: with the exclusion of

advice: recommendation (noun) advise: to recommend (verb)

adverse: unfavorable averse: opposed to

affect: to influence (verb); emotional response (noun) effect: result (noun); to cause (verb)

aisle: space between rows isle: island

allude: to make indirect reference to elude: to avoid

allusion: indirect reference illusion: false idea, misleading appearance

already: by this time all ready: fully prepared

altar: sacred platform or place alter: to change

altogether: thoroughly all together: everyone/everything in one place

a lot: a quantity; many of something allot: to divide or portion out

angel: supernatural being, good person angle: shape made by joining two straight lines

are: plural form of "to be" our: plural form of "my"

accent: pronunciation common to a region ascent: the act of rising or climbing assent: consent, agreement

assistance: help assistants: helpers

bare: nude, unadorned bear: to carry; an animal

beside: close to; next to besides: except for; in addition

boar: a wild male pig bore: to drill a hole through

board: piece of wood bored: uninterested

born: brought into life borne: past participle of "to bear" (carry)

breath: air taken in (noun) breathe: to take in air (verb)

brake: device for stopping break: destroy; make into pieces

buy: to purchase by: next to; through the agency of

canvas: heavy cloth canvass: to take a survey; a survey

capital: major city capitol: government building

choose: to pick chose: past tense of "to choose"

clothes: garments close: to shut; near cloths: pieces of fabric

coarse: rough course: path; series of lectures

complement: something that completes compliment: praise, flattery

conscience: sense of morality conscious: awake, aware

corps: regulated group corpse: dead body

council: governing body counsel: advice; to give advice

dairy: place where milk products are processed diary: personal journal

descent: downward movement dissent: disagreement

dessert: final, sweet course in a meal desert: to abandon; dry, sandy area

device: a plan; a tool or utensil devise: to create

discreet: modest, prudent behavior discrete: a separate thing, distinct

do: a verb indicating performance or execution of a task dew: water droplets condensed from air due: as a result of

dominant: commanding, controlling dominate: to control

die: to lose life; one of a pair of dice dye: to change or add color

dyeing: changing or adding color dying: losing life

elicit: to draw out illicit: illegal, forbidden

eminent: prominent imminent: about to happen

envelop: to surround (verb) envelope: container for a letter (noun)

everyday: routine, commonplace, ordinary (adj.) every day: each day, succession (adj. + noun)

fair: just, honest; a carnival; light skinned fare: money for transportation; food

farther: at a greater (measurable) distance further: in greater (non-measurable) depth

formally: conventionally, with ceremony formerly: previously

forth: forward fourth: number four in a list

gorilla: animal in ape family guerrilla: soldier specializing in surprise attacks

hear: to sense sound by ear here: in this place

heard: past tense of "to hear" herd: group of animals

hoard: a hidden fund or supply, a cache horde: a large group or crowd, swarm

hole: opening whole: complete; an entire thing

human: relating to the species homo sapiens humane: compassionate

its: possessive form of "it" it's: contraction for "it is"

knew: past tense of "know" new: fresh, not yet old

know: to comprehend no: negative

later: after a time latter: second one of two things

lead: heavy metal substance; to guide led: past tense of "to lead"

lessen: to decrease lesson: something learned and/or taught

lightning: storm-related electricity lightening: making lighter

loose: unbound, not tightly fastened lose: to misplace

maybe: perhaps (adv.) may be: might be (verb)

meat: animal flesh meet: to encounter mete: to measure; to distribute

medal: a flat disk stamped with a design meddle: to interfere, intrude metal: a hard organic substance mettle: courage, spirit, energy

miner: a worker in a mine minor: underage person (noun); less important (adj.)

moral: distinguishing right from wrong; lesson of a fable or story morale: attitude or outlook usually of a group

passed: past tense of "to pass" past: at a previous time

patience: putting up with annoyances patients: people under medical care

peace: absence of war piece: part of a whole; musical arrangement

peak: point, pinnacle, maximum peek: to peer through or look furtively pique: fit of resentment, feeling of wounded vanity

pedal: the foot lever of a bicycle or car petal: a flower segment peddle: to sell

personal: intimate; owned by a person personnel: employees

plain: simple, unadorned plane: to shave wood; aircraft (noun)

precede: to come before proceed: to continue

presence: attendance; being at hand presents: gifts

principal: foremost (adj.); administrator of a school (noun) principle: moral conviction, basic truth

quiet: silent, calm quite: very

rain: water drops falling; to fall like rain reign: to rule rein: strap to control an animal (noun); to guide or control (verb)

raise: to lift up raze: to tear down

rational: having reason or understanding rationale: principles of opinion, beliefs

respectfully: with respect respectively: in that order

reverend: title given to clergy; deserving respect reverent: worshipful

right: correct; opposite of left rite: ritual or ceremony write: to put words on paper

road: path rode: past tense of "to ride"

scene: place of an action; segment of a play seen: viewed; past participle of "to see"

sense: perception, understanding since: measurement of past time; because

sight: scene, view, picture site: place, location cite: to document or quote (verb)

stationary: standing still stationery: writing paper

straight: unbending strait: narrow or confining; a waterway

taught: past tense of "to teach" taut: tight

than: used to introduce second element; compared to then: at that time; next

their: possessive form of "they" there: in that place they’re: contraction for "they are"

through: finished; into and out of threw: past tense of "to throw" thorough: complete

to: toward too: also; very (used to show emphasis) two: number following one

track: course, road tract: pamphlet; plot of ground

waist: midsection of the body waste: discarded material; to squander

waive: forgo, renounce wave: flutter, move back and forth

weak: not strong week: seven days

weather: climatic condition whether: if wether: a neutered male sheep

where: in which place were: past tense of "to be"

which: one of a group witch: female sorcerer

whose: possessive for "of who" who’s: contraction for "who is"

your: possessive for "of you" you’re: contraction for "you are" yore: time long past

commonly confused words part 2

[m-oddinsdottir]

SMALL SPACE, BIG WINGS

the lord of Bloodshed and the étoile .ˊˎ ⚔️

Cassian x Fem! Reader

Words: 2,974

Warnings: smut, fingering, dirty talking, use of pet names, Cassian is a consent king, tension, reader ‘despising’ Cassian, Cassian being secretly smitten over her, unprotected p in v, size kink, multiple orgasms, creampie, slightly nipple play, no use of y/n. let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: After being sent on a small and easy job, you end up locked up with Cassian while trying to hide. You two barely fit inside together and the tension is definitely not making things any easier.

A/N: so this is the first time I write smut, definitely had to made my research in how to translate some things from my first language. friendly reminder that english isn’t my first language so please feel free to correct me if<3

Masterlist

•••

You were going to murder Rhysand. Surely, that was the next thing on your to-do list.

You were no spy, and neither was Cassian. Stealthy was not one of the words by which you would describe the Illyrian warrior, to the contrary he was a brute, certainly not a diplomat or forbearing in said matters.

So when Rhysand sent you both on a small and easy job (as the High Lord had called it), you immediately knew things would fail miserably.

After centuries together, everyone would have thought you adored Cassian as much as you adored everyone else in the Inner Circle. They couldn't be more wrong. You hated being teased, he was always teasing you. You loved your moments of solitude and peace, he would always scream around and ruin them. You were free as the stars, he was always trying to tie you down to the House of Wind with them.

You despised him.

However, you couldn't get rid of his obnoxious presence. Even during those terrible fifty years of Amarantha's reign where you had found your own silent and sacred temple in Velaris, he would always knock on your door at least once a month. He was insatiable.

Now, you both were trapped together under a hatch door. His broad hand over your waist to balance you while you were almost laying completely down over his body. His large wings half-wrapped around your figure, occupying most of the limited space in the tiny area you two had decided to hide in.

The amused smirk on his lips didn't help after you noticed the trapdoor only opened from the outside. If you had the space, you would have punched it out of his face just in the way he had trained you after decades of dwelling on how you couldn't always retort on your magic.

"You and me together, doll." He had said, and in response, you had just huffed before trying to kick the door open... Somehow. There must be a way to get out of there, right? You have attempted to contact Rhysand countless times to be able to keep track of it. Yet, you received no response in return.

And now, after almost twenty minutes ignoring Cassian's smart mouth and trying to find the manner to open the door. Your body was already cramping, and the resignment was taking its toll on you.

The male underneath you noticed the sigh that escaped your lips. He also realized how your body pressed more against his seeking some rest after supporting yourself over your forearms to avoid touching him for that much time. A small grin drew itself over his lips.

"As I said about half an hour again... You can't open it."

A small stubborn frown appeared over your lips. He wasn't saying 'I said so' right now, was he? Gods, you were so going to punch him.

"Have you at least tried to contact Rhysand to get us out of here?" Your question made his grin disappear as he looked into your eyes.

Cassian hadn't tried to do anything during all that time. He had just laid there, noticing the way your chest heavily moved up and down with each of your pants after trying to push the door open with your body, taking in how you closed your eyes in frustration granting him the possibility for his eyes to roam over your body without you realizing it.

Gods, he had tried to memorize each detail in your skin with this new forced proximity which, at least, was welcomed by him. Cassian had retained the way your brows furrowed together and the soft sounds of exasperation coming out of your throat that made him shiver.

"Of course, I've tried. I want to stay in this position as much as you do, doll."

Lie after lie.

He hadn't tried to contact Rhysand, and the gods knew he was praying to stay like that with you for as long as possible.

You looked deep into his eyes, nose scrunched up slightly before scoffing and then trying to shift to reduce the cramping sensation. "Ain't this the best outcome possible?"

Hearing your annoyed grumbling made Cassian grin with amusement again, his hand squeezing your waist before talking. "You know, you could always..."

"If you seriously propose that I lay down, I'll kill you Cassian." You muttered and the male raised his hands as much as he could feigning innocence.

"I didn't say anything," Cassian replied to you. His hand returned to rest on your waist before you shoved it away. "You were the one who suggested that… Is that how badly you want me to invite you to sit on my lap, doll?"

Unconsciously, your breath hitched before a small growl escaped your lips and you flexed your arms to be able to stand as far away from him as possible. "Have some respect, will you?"

"When has there ever been some respect between us?"

A truth, for a change.

Gods may correct if otherwise. But a compliment has never been shared between you and the warrior. Not a genuine one, at least.

"And whose fault is that?"

"Isn't it ours, doll? I don't think I can count how many times you've slammed your door on my face." "I don't think you can count at all." Your retort made the warrior grin from underneath you. And, this time, Cassian didn't have any decency before he looked— No, not looked, ogled at you.

"Trying to make me cry?"

You held back the need to roll your eyes at him before supporting your weight with one arm and forcing him to look into your eyes. The roughness of his stubble scratched the soft pads of your fingers as you held his chin upwards.

"Eyes up here," you warned him. "I didn't realize you had the emotional capacity to cry. Did I at least bruise your ego, Cassian?"

He chuckled before tilting his head down slightly and brushing his sultry lips against your fingers. "Consider it damaged." The strain of his voice sent a shiver down your spine to your core.

Gods, that roughness in his tone. You doubt you have ever heard that hoarseness in him before, even though you have witnessed some of his flirting attempts with other females.

A few seconds too late, you dropped his chin. Your hand moved to rest underneath his arm so that you could support yourself above him. Your mouth felt dry and the familiar sensation of your slick between your folds almost cracked a curse out of you.

Fuck.

Not in this situation, not with Cassian underneath you, not in such a tiny space where he could scent it.

And did he scent it, his nose scrunched up slightly and your eyes followed the movement of his Addam's apple when he swallowed hard. The warmth got worse. And you weren't even sure how or why it started.

Gods.

Gods.

"Gods." Cassian muttered, putting your thoughts right into words. You scoffed before shoving him away from you, placing your hands on his chest, and pushing your back against the small wooden trap door.

"Don't you dare say a fucking word. I'm going to try and contact Rhysand again." At your words, Cassian's chest reverberated against your hands when a deep growl escaped his lips

"Don't." His firm voice made you freeze above him.

"Don't?" You repeated and his growl was enough of a response for you. "The hell y—?

Before you could even register it, his lips were over yours. He was a male starved, lips coaxing yours open as he roughly introduced his tongue inside your mouth. His long and warm tongue licking the roof of your mouth before he intertwined his tongue with yours in a dance that only belonged to the synchrony in which the General usually fought his battles.

A small whimper escaped your lips and it traveled into his mouth when one of his hands lowered to your ass, taking a handful of the flesh covered by the leather. Almost immediately, your body arched into his, molding your body in the small space. Your skin buzzed with arousal when he broke the kiss and began pressing open-mouthed wet kisses against the bare skin of your neck.

You whined his name, almost gasping as his hand slipped underneath your trousers, you had no idea when the male unbuttoned them as your hand moved upwards to get tangled in his dark long locks.

"So fucking beautiful and so fucking wet," Cassian groaned as one of his fingers lowered feeling your covered and aching cunt, his warm and soft fingers pressing against your entrance. He clenched his jaw when he could feel the wetness spread through the thin layer of fabric. "Can you imagine how many times I have pictured you like this? At my damn mercy."

He pressed harder and you moaned against his ear. A pink tone colored your cheeks, however, it was provoked by your shame, not your arousal. You doubted you have ever been more soaked for any male before him... That, somehow, ashamed you.

Cassian traced slow and cruel circles against your entrance almost fingering you through the small lacey fabric Mor usually forced you to buy.

"Cassian—." You even struggled with your own speech. Your voice was suffocated by the delicious sounds that reached Cassian's hearing making the bulge in his trousers painfully hard. You could feel it poke your thigh through his Illyrian leathers and a strained gasp left your lips.

"Fuck, keep making those sounds." Cassian growled against your ear before he lowered your trousers revealing your backside to him as he hovered over your shoulder to take a glimpse.

A moan escaped his lips, this time. With his free hand, he parted your cheeks open squeezing the flesh underneath one of his hands before he kept teasing your entrance. His thumb moved upwards finding that small bundle of nerves right where he knew it would be. You choked your moan by kissing him once again and he gratefully devoured each one of your moans.

With a swift movement, he notched the skimpy and delicate fabric to the side. And then he was sinking two long and thick fingers inside you. Immediately, breaking the kiss, your lips parted open in a silent moan, jaw going slack.

The stretch stung as he buried his fingers deep until your achy cunt swallowed them entirely reaching his knuckles. A small laugh escaped his lips when you began to grind against his fingers, chasing your own pleasure.

His hand on your backside immediately moved up to shield your head when you almost hit it against the trap door. "Easy there, doll." Cassian mumbled softly, the gentle gesture making you clench around his fingers.

Cassian curled his fingers inside you finding the spongy patch of flesh that forced a cry out of your lips: "There you go, my beautiful," He whispered softly as he worked his fingers in and out. "Tell me what you want."

You almost laughed at his words. It was as if he was searching for your consent despite the way you were desperately grinding against his fingers while you moaned inches away from his mouth. The brute was in fact a gentleman, Cassian was indeed a gentle lover.

"I want you, Cassian," You mumbled against his lips connecting them with yours for a few seconds before nibbling on his lower lip. "Just you."

He growled. "Gods, doll... Come for me." His voice sounded almost like a plead as his thumb found your clit again. It only took a couple of lazy circles of his finger before you were making a mess of them, soaking his entire palm as a cry escaped your lips, your body stiffening before you buried your face in his neck breathing in his scent so that you could anchor yourself to something while being sent over the edge.

Cassian shushed you, still working his fingers inside you, trying to ride you out of your pleasure. "Good girl," He muttered, making your sensible walls clench around his fingers again. "Gods, I've jerked off so many times thinking about this before." His blunt admission caused a blush to color your cheeks as you looked down at him with half-lidded eyes. Cassian withdrew his fingers from you making you feel empty. You whimpered before he brought his glistening and sticky fingers to his lips sucking them dry while you observed.

The Illyrian savored the feeling of your juices on his fingers as if they were a damn meal. So much so that his eyes rolled back to his skull.

"So you've jerked off to me, huh?" You asked teasingly and he growled softly.

"Shut up." His lips were right over yours again forcing you to taste the salty but sweet taste of your orgasm on his tongue. You heard him roughly fiddling with the ties and buttons of his trousers and a small giggle escaped your lips before you moved down pressing gentle kisses against his jaw and neck.

Your skin sunk on the tanned skin there, leaving gentle marks that you soon soothed with a flicker of your tongue that only caused goosebumps to blossom around his skin.

Cassian growled against your ear when his large and hard manhood was revealed from its restraints. He gripped himself around the base and you looked down. The view made your breath hitch. Gods, was he big. You even doubted it would fit inside as you watched him pump himself a few times.

"Cassian, I don't think I..." You began but he quickly interrupted you. "I'll make it damn fit."

Cassian slid his length against your messy folds, smearing himself in the wetness of your arousal so that he could stretch you open more easily and less painfully. One hand moved up to cup your breasts while the other remained on your hips. He circled your nipples through the fabric of your shirt between his rough calloused fingers, toying with them.

His pupils had become pools in his eyes almost making the golden shrink into a small halo around the darkness of his lured eyes that stared right into your eyes. "So fucking beautiful. The damn picture of perfection." He repeated.

A gentle smile appeared on your lips and you relaxed against his arms. You were relaxed until you felt it. His thick grith slowly pushing inside you. A moan broke your voice as he slowly stretched you open.

"Doing so good for me, baby." Cassian muttered before moving to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, he pulled out before sinking in a few more inches and your needy cunt clenched around him swallowing his cock.

"More," You begged softly, tilting your head to find his lips. "I need you. All of you." He groaned and suddenly, Cassian sunk himself as deeply as he could inside you. His hips flesh against yours as his hands had lowered you completely into his cock.

"Gods—" You moaned and he held still for you to be able to adjust to his girth. One hand remained on your hips while the other moved to cup your cheek so that he could look into your eyes the entire time.

When you nodded telling him that you were alright, Cassian whimpered and he shifted you both in the tiny space before retreating and then thrusting in even deeper than before, the head of his cock caressing your cervix.

Cassian pumps in and out of you, small groans escaping his lips as he gets lost in the feeling of your sensitive walls tightening around him. He could feel your wetness slicking his cock each time he pulled out before he would thrust again. His golden eyes were locked with yours as he took in the way your face contorted with pleasure. Committing the moment to his memory.

He smirks feeling your body shake with each one of his hard thrusts. His hand gently caresses your cheek despite the roughness and eagerness of his movements. "Gods, you were made for me, doll." "I feel like I was made for you." You gasped in response and soon his fingers moved down to caress the swollen bundle of nerves making you cry out with pleasure.

Cassian leaned in closer to press his forehead against yours. "You are," He mumbles noticing the way you arched your back to meet each one of his strokes. "You are... Made for me— Mine."

His growls made you whimper and you felt your body stiffen above him. "Cass.. I'm close to—." He didn't allow you to finish your sentence, thrusting in even deeper and circling your clit desperately before you were coming undone on his cock.

A loud cry escaped your lips before he kissed you gently while your walls tightened around him, your legs trembling due to the electric current coursing through your body and struggling to support yourself over him. The sensation makes him groan and when you screamed his name, he's already tightening his grip over your hips.

He spills rope after rope of his thick and warm spend, flooding your insides as he closes his eyes. Cassian's forehead was still pressed against yours as he panted heavily against your face. He remained buried deep inside you pulling in and out slightly so that your tight walls would milk him completely before he pulled out.

And then you both opened your eyes. Glossy gazes locking with each other and tired smiles over your lips before it happened.

Your breath hitched as his speed dripped out of you and the golden bridge between both your souls constructed itself brick by brick. It left your already hazy mind feeling even more bewildered. You caught sight of Cassian's excited and tender smile before fully realizing it.

He was your mate.

Oh, damn it.

[srslyblvck]

so wrong, james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: You were a Slytherin, and he was a Gryffindor. Both of you despised each other—so why were you making out with the one person you hated the most?

warning: kissing, making out, suggestive content (?)

word count: 0.5k

author's note: this might be the closest thing i will come to writing smut lol

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ YOU WERE A SLYTHERIN, he was a Gryffindor. You were a pureblood, part of the Sacred 28—he was a blood traitor. You had been raised to despise everything he stood for: recklessness, rebellion, and that stupid, insufferable smile. You were elegant, poised, and always in control. Him? He was a mess—untidy hair that he ran his fingers through every few minutes, his shirt perpetually untucked, his shoes scuffed.

There were lists of differences between you two. Endless, insurmountable divides. But none of that mattered in this moment.

Because here you were, making out with James Potter in the Room of Requirement. Hands tangled in each other's hair, bodies glued together as if the space between you were the most unnatural thing in the world. You couldn’t remember how you ended up like this, with your back pressed against a wall, the dim light flickering around you, the scent of him—fresh grass and something undeniably him—filling your senses.

Neither of you said anything. There was no need for words, just the raw, burning tension that had been building for so long. His hands roamed over your body, fingers brushing across the thin fabric of your shirt, tracing the line of your waist, pulling you closer. You wanted to hate it. You should hate it. But you didn’t.

You hated James Potter. Hated the way his glasses always slid down the bridge of his nose, and how he’d push them back up with a lazy flick of his finger, as if nothing in the world could rattle him. You hated the way his hazel eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, as though everything was just a grand joke to him. You hated how he made everyone adore him without even trying, his stupid confidence spilling out in every careless gesture.

But more than anything, you hated how, right now, none of that mattered. How none of your disdain or hatred or carefully constructed barriers seemed to stop you from wanting him like this.

James' lips were on your neck now, trailing soft, deliberate kisses that sent heat rushing through your veins. His breath was warm against your skin, his hands firm as they slid up your back, anchoring you to him. A gasp escaped your lips, betraying the storm inside you. Your fingers tangled in his unruly hair, tugging him closer even as your mind screamed at you to stop.

But Merlin, it felt so good. His lips, his hands, the way his body pressed against yours, every movement speaking a language you didn’t want to understand but couldn’t resist.

His lips finally found yours again, and this time, it was desperate. His glasses were askew, but you didn’t care. Not anymore. All you could focus on was the way he kissed you—like you were the only thing that existed, like the years of rivalry and disdain had all led to this. To the heat between you, to the way his tongue danced against yours, to the way your body melted into his, craving more.

You hated him, truly. But in this moment, you hated yourself more for how badly you didn’t want to stop.

And it was so, so wrong.

[livviewritess]

♡..I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy, I just wanna be apart of your family.. ♡

Dad!daryl.

Summary: Y/Ns family isn't the best, so she finds comfort in the hot headed redneck.

Era: the quarry

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Tw: abuse (mental and physical), alcohol, methamphetamine use (drugs), PTSD, mentions of ADHD. (Let me know if I've missed anything.)

Smashed bottles, shouting and fighting was the norm for Y/N L/N. Its just how It was. She had developed PTSD as a young child, flinching from any sort of loud noise or screaming. And today wasn't any different.

She walked out of the trailer she called 'home'. Although it wasn't much of a home. She lived and breathed in it, but she didn't go there when she wanted comfort or seek warmth. No. Never. She hated it there. It always smelled of Alcohol or weed, and the smell would just never go, no matter how much of her sacred perfume she sprayed.

She only had socks on her feet, and was wearing a pink nightie with bows on it, her hair neatly tied up in a ponytail. Tears fell from her tired eyes, dripping down her cheeks and onto the bundle, her baby sister.

Her parents where drunk, so they probably didn't even notice the absence of their 14 year old and 3 month old. That was the norm for the L/N family.

She sat down next to the water, her knees brought up to her chest, leaving just enough space to rest the baby in her lap.

The sound of her tears dripping against the little pit of water in the sound calmed her and the baby. She wondered why, though. The tears that where falling from her pretty eyes where one's made shed by her own parents. The two people in her life that where meant to help her and care for her. She stared at her reflection, brushing a piece of stay hair out of the babies face.

She cuddled her sister, humming her favourite song. She rocked side to side gently, before singing quietly, careful not to wake up anyone near.

"Staring down the barrel of the hot sun.. shining with a sheen of a shotgun.. Carol has a little if we need some.. joa has a ride if you wanna come.."

She carried on singing, tears brimming her eyes again. Faint footsteps carried up the beach, but she was too indulged in singing and keeping the baby asleep to care.

"grocery store list now you get this, I don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy, I just wanna be apart of your family.."

Footsteps creep up behind her and she jumped, spinning around on her knees. It was the redneck man with the motorbike. Daryl, his name was. She stared up at him, the bundle still in her arms. She was confused about why he was up so late. Until she realised she was too.

"What are ya doin' out here this late, sunshine?" He asked. She stayed quiet, bowing her head for a second, before looking up at him again. "I just.. wanted some space and water." She said, standing up. Daryls eyebrows furrowed with confusion and something else.. empathy.

He could see her tear stained face, the little wet spots on the babies blanket. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He leaned his crossbow and string of squirrel and bird on the rock wall, before holding his arms out. Y/N looked at him confused, then passing him the baby. He rocked her, smiling a little.

"Cute lil' thing, huh? What's her name?" The gruff man said, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Oh, Rose," she said, bowing her head once more. "Ya named her, didn't you?.." daryl asked, taking int he girls expression as a yes. He knew her parents where horrible.. just like his. He scanned her face, seeing himself in her. A young, scared, innocent little kid just waiting for their childhood to be destroyed.

"I.. I'm sorry for waking you, Mr Dixon, I'm so sorry.." she apologised, daryl shaking his head in disbelief. How is she apologising for something she didn't do? Ah. She did it often. To her parents.

"Ya didn't wake me, kid. I jus' came back from huntin'. Nothin' ta worry 'bout." He said, before letting out a huff, swapping the little on to his other arm carefully before pulling the kid into a side hug. And, she cried. Poured her little heart out. Sobs wracked through her body as daryl swayed, shushing her, and doing anything he could to comfort her.

"C'mon. Let's get Ya to bed. Yer sleepin' in the tent next ta me. The little one can sleep in yer arms. That okay sunshine?" She nods, smiling up at him, picking up his crossbow and squirrels up for him, following him up to his little spot.

"Merle the Madman isn't here.. right?.." She said, making daryl smile. Although he had disappeared thanks to officer friendly, he liked the nickname. "Nah. He's not here. Went missin'." He said, and she let out a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry Mr Dixon.." daryl layed out the two sleeping bags, patting it, letting her lay down comfortably.

"Nah. S'its alrigh'. Bastard had it comin'." She laughed a little, before taking her sister out of daryls arms, making her comfortable too.

"And sunshine?" Daryl said, turning to her.

"Yes Mr Dixon?"

"From now on, it's Daryl." He said, they both settled, eventually falling asleep, a smile on both their faces.

Early in the morning, y/n woke up with an empty sleeping bag next to her. She yawned, and stretched. She sat up, picking up her little sister. She needed a bottle, but she decided to ask Carol for one instead of going back in that wretched camper trailer.

Her feet padded along the dirt, until she came to an abrupt stop around the camp fire logs. She stared at the sight infront of her, tears involuntarily falling down her face.

Her mother was lying there, a stab wound in her head. She had turned. She probably went outside to the RV to go to the toilet and got attacked. Or overdosed. One of the two.

Her dad was drunkenly screaming, as usual, Rick and Shane trying to calm him down, before his eyes landed on you.

He stomped towards you, and all you could see is flashes of the amount of times he'd hit you, and threatened your life. Your eyes widened as he got closer and closer, bottle ready to hit you.

Until someone hit him.

He fell, flat on the ground, groaning, blood trickling from the side of his head. Daryl had hit him with a nearby pole. She looked at daryl, tears in her eyes.

Daryl pulled her into a tight hug, comforting her and scowling at her dad at the same time. Nobody expected that from a dixon. The hitting thing? Yeah. The comforting a 14 year old infront of a group of atleast 20 people? No. Not at all.

Shane and Rick grabbed the man, hoisting him up, and putting him back in his trailer, slamming the door shut.

"Daryl! That is not how we deal with stuff around here!" Shane shouted, daryl shielding her from everything, but you looked under his arm.

"Maybe if ya lowlifes tried ta take him down 'Fore he started hittin' his own kid, I wouldn't have had ta hit him!" He snapped back at Shane. Shane scowled, shifting his weight onto one of his legs and putting his hands on his hips. "Let me tell you somethin'. Maybe if you pulled your head outta your ass, looked around and read the room you wouldn't have to hit people," he said, adjusting his awful cap.

"Maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass and stopped thinking with your dick we'd have a stable community we all could live and thrive in." She said. Everyone went dead silent. So did he. And daryl. He just trudged away to go and deal with her dad.

Daryl and Y/N got back to their tent, and liv placed her sister into the makeshift cot. "Daryl?" She asked. "Yes sunshine?"

"Can I call you dad?" She said, staring up at him with those beautiful puppy eyes he just adored.

"Sure thing, Darlin'."

An: I enjoyed writing this. One of my favourite fics so far I think. Thank you for reading <3

Tags:

[arts-bloody-rose]

Blood of A Rose - Part 3 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - As (Y/s)’s life blends into Art’s, she struggles to keep hold of her sanity with his influence as others continue to test her patience.

Notes - Shit’s getting juicy, y’all 🤌🏻 Let me know if you would like to be part of the tag list or have requests!

Word Count - 3,107

Warning(s) - Violence

Song Inspiration -

The Pretty Wild - Sleepwalker

The days bled into weeks, the weeks into months. As the bond between them grew stronger, so did the resemblance of (Y/n) in the abandoned building the clown called home. And with it, so did she. 

With much convincing, Art allowed her to make the bedroom her own safe space for when she spent her time there. With that being said, it also meant that if anyone other than either of themselves entered that room, there was no telling what that somebody would suffer through. 

Sure, it wasn’t as if it was common for others to wander into the building, and that alone would be a death wish. But anything that invaded what he considered to be her sacred grounds was subject to punishment of the highest degree. 

With countless hours of cleaning and rearranging, she was able to finally get rid of the dust and grime, save for a few particularly stubborn spots. And of course, the floors and walls were still rotted and peeling, but after getting a can of paint, roller brushes, and a pan, she figured it would be close enough to decent. 

With Art’s help, he opened the can of egg-white paint for her and carefully poured it into the pan, happily doing so with a large grin. Once he poured enough for her, he set down the can of paint and straightened himself up. 

“What?” (Y/n) asked him innocently when he looked at her mischievously. Then she noticed the hand behind his back. “No.” She warned him playfully, holding a finger out to him. 

He snatched her wrist and she shrieked as he launched his hand out from behind him, smearing what she assumed was paint onto her face. As the cold substance touched her lips she gagged and kept her lips tightly shut, refusing for it to get into her mouth anymore than it already had.

Meanwhile, the imp that was Art keeled over in silent laughter, slapping his thigh and mocking her gagging as she ran out to the basin in their work area before the paint dried up to clean it off. She dried her face and it flatlined as she glared at Art. He simply shrugged with a half-assed apology written on his face, letting her storm past him back into her room to start painting.  

The experience was peaceful, other than the rocky start and the fumes. Nothing could have prepared her for the fumes. The room wasn’t large and the building had no ventilation or filtering to protect her. The single window was broken and boarded so it wasn’t as if she could open it. 

Her stubbornness was unforgiving as she pushed through hours of work to get everything done, fueled by her excitement to turn the room into her own. 

The effects the smell had on her body didn’t hit her until the tail end of her painting as she finished the second and final coat of the remaining wall. 

(Y/n) practically threw the paint roller into the pan, taking a deep breath when her head began to spin. She was aware enough to mind the wet walls, but couldn’t stop herself from swaying. After a significant wave of disorientation, she leaned - or rather fell - back against the doorframe, her head thumping loudly against it in the process and only worsening her headache. 

With her eyes closed, her head spun as she heard the sound of rushed and heavy footsteps growing nearer, louder before they came to a halt beside her. She felt quick taps on her shoulder, light at first. 

No response. 

The next set nearly shoved her into the wall and her eyes sprung open, looking over at Art who had a panicked expression, his hands motioning around the both of them with haste. 

(Y/n)’s eyes began to close again as she waved him off weakly. “M’fine. Just dizzy.” She slurred and heard him stomp his foot. 

He suddenly bent down and picked her up bridal-style, taking her out of the room and outside to an old bench sat along the side of the building. He sat down and cradled her on his lap, albeit begrudgingly as he huffed and puffed to himself at the minor heart attack she caused him. 

As her head rested against him under his chin, she began to recover enough to know she would be fine to stand. But with equal mischief, she pretended she was still ill just to stay in his arms for a little while longer. 

The days following, Art was generous enough to help her bring in brand new furniture which they transported by a worker’s van - which he still hadn’t disclosed to her its origins - and the room was finally beginning to look decent. 

The process was interesting, to say the least, as far as putting the furniture together went. They both sat on the floor, Art eyeing the new tools that came with the pieces and picking them up in interest while (Y/n) read through the directions. 

What caught her off guard was how handy Art really was. 

After she had finished reading through the first bit, she began to look back and forth between the directions and the pieces in front of her to start the dreadful process. It wasn’t until she was halfway through putting the dresser together that she began to grow frustrated, sighing heavier than usual as she took off another piece that was incorrectly placed. 

Art looked over, sensing her frustration, and shooed her away from it. He took the tools from her and left to grab his own. When he returned, he sat where she had been and began to put everything together with ease while (Y/n)’s jaw dropped in both irritation and awe. 

No directions. No guidance. Just Art doing what Art did. 

Within fifteen minutes, the dresser was perfectly complete and he stood, presenting it to her with a large grin and flare of his hands while (Y/n) deadpanned. 

“You waited.” She accused grumpily and he proudly nodded. 

He then mockingly pouted at her and stepped his way over, squeezed at her cheeks and patted them before kissing her on the nose. 

“Okay, I forgive you.” She mumbled, unable to stay mad at his adorable mannerisms. 

With furniture complete, (Y/n) began to bring over some of her belongings and necessities. Clothes, toothbrush, toothpaste, bed sets, a lamp and then some. He helped her without hesitation, mostly because he wanted to snoop around her house and bring back some of what he found for himself, but she accepted and appreciated the help nonetheless. 

After a week, the whole room had completely changed. She could now call it her personal safe space, her home away from home. 

“Art look, it’s finished!” She called to him from the doorway, looking into her room. He practically ran over to her with shared excitement, his face resembling shock. He clapped and jumped up and down, then blew a kiss into the room to compliment their work.

Art then turned to (Y/n) and kissed her cheek, baring a look of mischief before he ran into the room and jumped onto the bed. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look, but once he star-fished with childlike glee her face softened and she chuckled. 

The hideout was nearly their permanent place of residence once the room was finished. She would stop by her house once or twice a day to check her mail or take a shower to freshen up. Her actual house very well turned out to be her new home away from home, finding an odd sense of comfort in the decaying building knowing that it belonged to the clown she so loved. 

With how busy they had been with their little project, Art had built up a strong urge to wreak havoc. (Y/n) had her own urge, however significantly less violent. She would only ever be found guilty by association. 

Or so she thought.

Following the familiar itch, Art tinkered away at one of his new inventions when they could finally rest after the more chaotic week. (Y/n) sat with him, staring at the latest newspaper that had been delivered earlier that morning to her house. 

The usual sting rose in her abdomen as her eyes skimmed over the words of an article covering her work: disturbingly grotesque, lacking depth, pure shock value. 

Each phrase felt like a hammer striking her soul, chipping away at the confidence in her work while Art was left to pick up the pieces. Her fingers tightened around the edges of the paper, crumpling it slightly. Suddenly, in the back of her mind, something stirred. Something darker than frustration.

She realized that her initial reaction wasn’t just sadness. It was anger. Uncharacteristic of her individuality, it simmered, threatening to boil at any moment. 

She grew antsy with the unfamiliar feeling and stood up, crumpling the newspaper and snatching a match from the workbench. 

Art watched incredulously as she struck the match and lit the article ablaze, dropping it into a nearby steel bucket on the floor and letting it burn. 

Her exterior was eerily calm while her thoughts began to rage and cause turmoil. She looked over at Art who continued to stare and her eyebrow twitched in contained irritation. He simply lifted the new weapon off of his desk and showed it to her with a sadistic expression. 

Over time, (Y/n) began to notice how the fits of frustration became more common. What used to be a simmer had indeed grown into a boil and only became harder and harder to contain, though she did it well. It’s what made her dangerous, and what intrigued Art further. 

No matter what was going on through her head, she somehow always remained calm and collected. Time and time again other’s words and interactions with them made her seethe beneath her facade, yet nothing ever came out of it from her. 

She had always avoided conflict, either by completely disassociating from it or just letting Art handle it in his own way. What they didn’t know was what went through her head in those moments. 

For the past few months, she’d noticed a change. Subtle at first, but soon became impossible to ignore. As she stood silently in her anger, her mind thought up of ways to release that rage. Whether it was ramming a bat into a TV or slapping someone in the face, the images flooded her mind as an initial reaction. Almost as an impulse, coaxing her into giving in and finally acting on it. 

She wasn’t aware of it yet, but the line between her calm, introverted nature and the darkness lurking beneath had already begun to blur. And soon, she wouldn’t be able to tell the difference at all.

It was nighttime, as was routine for them, to go on their walk, which Art preferred to call their ‘hunt’. They decided to take a different route to town for a change of scenery, but (Y/n) would be lying if she said it wasn’t more eerie than their typical route. 

There wasn’t nearly as much lighting and the tall trees lining the smaller street casted foreboding shadows over them. But (Y/n) felt calm. Not only because it was an environment she was naturally attracted to, but also because of the figure walking alongside her. She could even go as far as to say she felt almost invincible with him. 

Just ahead of them, a darker figure seemed to have the same idea of having a walk. From the look of it, they grew closer, walking towards them. 

Art stopped in his tracks, staring at the man menacingly with wide eyes and a smile to match. 

The man felt a chill run down his spine at the sight, but decided to stupidly go against his better judgment as he took a sip from the beer bottle in his hand. 

“A little early to be dressing up for Halloween, don’t you think?” He laughed as he resumed his walking towards them. 

“How about you mind your business.” (Y/n) bit back. Art’s head snapped over to look at her with an expression of shock, hand over his mouth as she casually put her hands in her pockets. 

“You’re a snappy one! I like that.” He slurred with a drunken wink and her mouth curled in disgust. Art looked between the two of them with a mischievous grin. 

“Then you’ll love it when I smash that bottle over your head if you don’t keep walking.” 

“He might,” The man pointed at Art. “But I don’t think you will, sweetheart.” 

In the blink of an eye, the bottle was snatched from his hand and broke over his head just as she warned. 

Art bent over in laughter after his initial surprise wore off, pointing at the man now collapsed on the ground and mocking him by pretending to cry, hands twisting by his eyes. 

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’.” (Y/n) spoke flatly as she shook off the beer that spilled onto her hand from the bottle. “Do you have a rag in your bag, Art?” She asked the clown in a softer tone. 

He turned back to her and held up a finger for her to wait while his laughter continued, digging through his bag until he eventually pulled out a rag, albeit a bit dirty, but it would suffice. As (Y/n) dried off her hand, he pulled something else out and she turned away, the man screaming behind her not long after. 

She wasn’t sure what came over her at that moment, and Art wasn’t exactly a good influence. She had made one or two threats in the past couple of months when her intrusive thoughts started to get worse, but never had she acted on them. 

The most unusual part wasn’t that she carried them out, though. It was that she remained frighteningly calm before, during and after. As if it was second nature to her. 

An hour before the sun was set to rise, they made it back to what they called home. Art remained his bloody self, heading to their work  area while (Y/n) wandered into her room without a word, her demeanor just a shell of who she was as she thought of the night’s events. 

She took the camera off from around her neck and set it on her nightstand, sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at the rug below her. 

She wasn’t sure how long it had been before Art showed up and paused in the doorway. His smile dropped ever so slightly, leaving his eyes as his brow furrowed with concern. He walked over to where she sat and began to reach a hand out, hesitated, then touched her shoulder and quickly pulled away as if she had burned him. 

Her eyes slowly lifted to meet his gaze and using a finger, he motioned up and down at her figure in question. With no response, she only looked back down and he was aghast, flinching back with wide eyes. 

Art quickly looked around in a panic, fingers twitching with an unfamiliar urge and then quickly took a seat beside her. At first, his fingertips caressed her back. Then his arm reached around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, rocking the two of them soothingly. 

After a few minutes, he felt (Y/n)’s arms slowly wrap around his torso, leaning into him as her head nuzzled into his chest. 

“I don’t know what happened…” She mumbled in what sounded like disappointment. “It just came out of nowhere, hardly even any provocation.”

Art tapped at her back and she watched as he stood up in front of her. He mimicked exaggerated anger and pointed at (Y/n), then flared his hands at the empty space beside him, an imaginary person. He pointed at her again and gave her two ‘ok’ symbols, telling her that it was okay and that she did a good job. 

“You don’t think I overreacted, do you…?” Art started to feel relieved when he noticed her usual, gentler side with him begin to show again. 

He aggressively shook his head, slicing his arms over each other to give a firm ‘no’ and (Y/n) sighed.

“I’ve just been becoming more angered with things that used to only cause me pain. Those urges have been in my head more frequently recently and that was the first time I’ve ever acted on it. I feel conflicted after, but in the moment it just felt right .” 

She looked up at Art with pleading eyes, but his smile remained and he lifted his hands to grab her cheeks. He pulled away and balled up his fists, gritting his teeth in feigned anger and motioning to what was around him with a sigh of relief. 

“If I hold it in, will it just get worse?” (Y/n) asked genuinely. 

He nodded his head and pointed at her. She looked off in contemplation as Art eagerly waited, fingers tapping against each other. 

“I guess I could try and see how it goes.” Art clapped and shuffled closer to her, taking her head and leaning into it to kiss the top of it, then patted where he kissed. 

Over the next few weeks, she decided to stick to her word and let the now impulsive thoughts take over. She hesitated at first, but Art nudged her inconspicuously from beside her when he noticed and prompted her to follow through. 

Depending on how much the person had angered her and what was nearby for use, it ranged from ramming their head into a wall to simply kicking them in the groin. But she never went further as that was Art’s part of the fun, and she never wanted to deprive him of such joy. 

It still felt strange at first, to say the least. But the more she gave in, the less she thought about it and just did it . The strange feeling turned into relief, the relief turned into satisfaction, and the satisfaction turned into pure pleasure . 

In doing so, (Y/n) gained a certain level of understanding as to why Art loved what he did. She would never torture as he did, if at all. And she still refused to watch. 

As she embraced the new aspect of herself,  they formed a newfound respect for each other. More than what they had before, which they never believed could be greater than what it was. 

Tag list: @callsignwidow @hoe-for-daddywise

[oceantornadoo]

pockets of possessiveness (john price x lieutenant f!reader)

you knocked on his door with your pillow in hand, feet freezing on bare tile. after a second, you heard a gruff “come in”, and pushed open the door to the sight of your captain smoking a cigar with paperwork spread around him. he looked up at you syrup-slow, eyes dragging up and down your body.

“whose clothes are those?” you peeked down at the oversized tee and boxers you wore. “mine.” he grunted. “y’ make it a habit buyin’ shit that doesn’t fit.” you rolled your eyes, stomping over to the couch you came for. “yes, actually. i like to buy oversized shirts and men’s boxers are extremely comfortable and cheap.” his hat was off, which meant you could see the slight rise of his eyebrows, disbelief in his vision. “‘s long as they aren’t johnny’s.” you took a while to answer that, instead dropping your pillow on couch and making yourself comfy, taking out the blanket he tucked away in a box underneath. “‘m not dignifying that with a response.” a small smile tugged at his lips, fond affection spreading slowly. he turned his desk lamp away from you so the harsh glare was no longer in your eyes. “g’night, sweetheart.” you closed your eyes. “night, cap.”

it was way too early in the morning for someone to be bothering you on your day off. you felt a presence standing over you and groaned, hand reaching out to push him away. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. was jus’ sayin’ bye.” your hand landed on his bicep, tugging him down to crouch before you. blearily, you opened one eye, watching the movement of your hand travel to his neck, wrapping around the strands with his hair. he understood you immediately, moving closer til your foreheads touched. you sighed on contact, his smell of cigars and pine seeping into your skin. “got to go, baby. i’ll lock the door so y’ can sleep ‘s long as you want.” you whined a little, then acquiesced with a nod. “‘m not sleepin’ with johnny.” he let out a big sigh. “i know.” you were both silent for a bit, breathing in each other’s presence. for a second, you could imagine it was under different circumstances. with no ranks between you and only lazy sundays like this. instead, you dropped your hand and he rose up, pinching your hip in goodbye.

“y’r not goin’. it’s a suicide mission.” you huffed at his attitude, crossing your arms over your chest so he couldn’t see your hands trembling. “but it’s made for my skills, cap. why else would they assign it to the team?” you looked to the rest of your task force around the room, making eye contact with them individually. “anyone?” gaz tried to speak and you shut him up with a look, already knowing he was going to take his captain’s side. johnny was oddly silent, eyes tracing patterns on the floor. “captain’s right. ‘s yer death if y’ go.” ghost’s voice was low and gravelly in the silence of the room. that was it - overruled by your fellow lieutenant. with him on your captain’s side, you had no shot. “fine. i’ll just not do my job.” you avoided john’s gaze, instead staring a hole into the side of simon’s face. the idiot turned and faced you, cocking his head in silent argument.

i hate you

no you don’t

you’re wrong

you know i’m right

whatever. you’re still on my shit list.

the meeting ended and you beelined for the door. despite your fervent strides, john caught up with you, tugging you into the nearest room (your quarters), before you could run away. you unlocked the door without acknowledging him, letting him follow you into your sacred space and locking the door after him. “‘s for your safety, sweetheart.” you whipped around, pushing him into the door with a finger on his chest. “no, john, it’s for you. you not trusting me, not trusting my skills.” he grabbed your finger with his hand, dwarfing it in his rough warmth. “‘s not that i don’t trust you. i don’t want- i can’t see you killed.” somehow in the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes pleading, an unusual vulnerability for your captain.

“you can’t be this possessive and still not fuck me, captain.” you mocked him with his rank, pointing out the one big problem between you. “y’ know it’s more than fuckin’, sweetheart. woulda done it a while ago ‘f it was jus’ that.” oh. oh. you had guessed, slightly, but to hear him say it was…new. “next time, can you tell me that before going all caveman in front of the team?” his grip on your finger had loosened, his hand spreading out your own so he could link the two together. your palms were over his heart and you could feel its heavy beating calm slowly. “y’ didn’t know?” you shook your head, eyes focusing on the sight of your hands intertwined. your left hand to be specific, his fingers rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly. “don’t want t’ see you hurt because i care for you. and i don’t mind using my position t’ ensure it.” he leaned in, and for a heart stopping moment you thought he would kiss you. instead, he kissed your forehead, lips resting for a second. “we okay?” you nodded against him, feeling the scratch of his beard. “yeah, john, we’re okay.”

john was two seconds away from tugging you off the dance floor, ripping off the scrap of fabric you wore, and taking you in front of the entire club. you had begged the team to go clubbing after the mission, and with gaz and johnny on your side, your prayers were answered. you’d found the perfect thing to wear in a local shop - a scrap of a dress in your favorite color that showed off almost all of your skin. of course, you’d done shots with gaz and johnny, and now the three of you were on the dance floor, dancing the night away. “gonna break that glass, captain.” ghost nodded towards the tight grip price had on his whiskey, knuckles white and strained. he loosened slightly at his lieutenant’s words, gaze never leaving your figure. “fuckin’ hell.” ghost muttered, tracking the figure of his captain’s obsession. johnny had joined you from the back and gaz from the front, the three of you grinding like there was no tomorrow. johnny’s fingers gripped your waist while kyle’s brushed your shoulders, occasionally running up and down your arms. “cap-“ but he was already moving, glass empty and dropped on the table as price made his way to the dance floor.

“‘m cutting in.” your captain peeled his two sergeants off you, sending them scampering and snickering with a glare. “didn’t know you danced, john.” he didn’t, just stood unmoving with arms akimbo and possessiveness flaring in his eyes. “come on.” you grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd, finding a dark corner for the two of you, away from the team. “took you long enough to come get me.” you giggled. he raised an eyebrow, resting his hands on your waist as you swayed to the beat of the music. “y’ sayin’ that was all for me?” you nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. instead of replying, he flipped you around, tugging you into him until there was no space between you. you started grinding, not the false imitation of what you were doing with johnny and kyle, letting the beat move your hips. “a worse man might take advantage of you, darlin’. so pretty an’ willing f’ me.” he was right next to your ear, beard scraping your soft skin.

“doesn’t make you worse, john. it makes you human.” huh. he’d never thought of it that way, that he was just a man instead of a captain. he contemplated it, that gray area, as you moved one of his hands from your waist to your lower stomach, pressing it above your core. “‘s not taking advantage, john. i’m not drunk, just tipsy.” he pressed harder against you, drawing out a moan in the darkness as you felt that familiar coil of arousal. you could feel the outline of his cock through his jeans, the thin material of your dress barely a barrier. “don’t want our first time to be in a filthy club bathroom, baby. when i fuck you, i’m goin’ to take my time.” he grinded his palm into you, noting the hitch in your breath as he found your cunt, hidden behind two layers of fabric. it was building up, your nipples hardening and scraping against your dress. he was rock hard now, hips loose and all yours. you couldn’t quell that one voice in the back of your mind, though. “will it- will it just be once? when you fuck me?” he shook his head, spinning you around until your back was to a wall, your captain pinning your hands up and looking down at you with a hungry gaze. his hips were still pressed into yours, cock rubbing against your cunt. “y’ gonna get it through your head. you’re mine and i’m yours.” his eyes were searching yours for confirmation that he hadn’t been grasping at straws. you nodded quickly, wrapping a leg around his waist and tugging him closer. “mine. yours. when are you gonna kiss me, john?” you whined that last part, turning on your biggest puppy dog eyes. he almost growled at it, you so helpless under him. the invisible limits he had on himself, on a relationship between a captain and lieutenant, broke easily under your heady gaze. he leaned in slowly, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your lips. and finally, finally, he kissed you.

it was slow and soft and john, the taste of whiskey rushing through your mouth. you were in a bubble, tugging your pinned hands out of his grip so you could pull him closer. his hips slotted further into yours but his lips told a softer story, biting and licking, exploring yours. you never wanted to stop, content to lie here forever and never let him go. “y’ taste like my dreams, sweetheart.” he whispered, just for you. he tasted like your future.

[nayatarot777]

what would your sexual energy like to tell you? 💌

• pile one •

many of you in this pile have been suppressed by overbearing parents/carers and overbearing expectations regarding sex. you may (to this day) be very sheltered from anything to do with your sexuality, as if your caregivers have tried to keep you cloaked from anything to do with that. a lot of you may be virgins too, holding onto your virginity because you view it as something extremely valuable (which is completely understandable. the first person who you choose to share your body with and your first sexual experience is very important regarding your outlook towards your future sexual experiences) however the importance placed on your virginity or staying “protected” and “pure” from any sexual experiences may be causing you a lot of mental conflict. for those of you who aren’t virgins, i’m seeing that you could be very closed off (out of fear) due to negative experiences and/or beliefs towards sex from the past. your sexual energy would like you to try to find a mental balance regarding your sexual energy, though. learn to value your body and to view your future sexual experiences as something that is also for you, not just for the pleasure of the other person. also, write down a list of sexual boundaries that you feel like you’d want to implement in the future. there’s an emphasis on understanding that you have control over your body. not your parents, not what random people think that you should do with your body. YOU. there’s a need to educate yourself about what healthy, safe, and positive sexual experiences are, because what you’ve been told or what you’ve experienced personally may have tainted your opinion and feelings towards your own sexual energy as well as other people’s. many of you are closed off from your own body. many of you still view yourself as a child who “shouldn’t” explore these things. for those of you who are virgins and stressing about when you’re going to lose your virginity, who you should lose it to, etc, please just know this: choosing a sexual partner that you feel comfortable with and that you can trust is very important, however, they don’t have to be the “one” or the person who you will marry or spend the rest of your life with. losing your virginity doesn’t have to be this extremely serious thing. if you meet someone who you like - and you decide for yourself that you’d like to sleep with them - as long as the energy’s right and you know them well enough to trust them with something as sensitive as your first sexual experience, go ahead and do what you want to do. you’re not a little kid anymore and you deserve to experience what all grown adults have the right to choose to experience. for everyone in this pile though, you all would benefit from solidifying your self esteem in your physical body. viewing it as attractive, viewing it as your safe space in a way, and viewing it as sacred (in your own way - not necessarily in the way of society, family, or religion). this applies to your sexual energy in general too.

• pile two •

the sexual energy of this pile seems to be very dependent on what other people think (or would think) of your sexual identity and sexual behaviours. whether that’s sexual orientation, sexual preferences, kinks and fetishes, etc. The main aspect of this that I’m picking up on is listening to what other people say about those who are sexually open and/or people who sleep with multiple people, resulting in them being called derogatory names in relation to their sexuality. you may want to explore the same things that have been the point of shame for other people (like multi-dating, having multiple sexual partners, moving into the sex work industry, etc.), and because of this fear of judgement, you hold yourself back. for others of you, you’re surrounded by people who take sex less seriously than you and they might urge you to delve into hook up culture when that’s not something that you’re sure would be best for you. you might want to wait until you’re in a relationship to sleep with others, and now you’re wondering whether or not you’re wasting your time waiting for that. to sum this up, you guys are listening to other people around you, or people that you don’t even know (online) about the standards that you should set for yourself sexually. i heard “stop listening to gossip and judgements”. i’m seeing that you guys in this pile are wanting to make some type of transition in the way that you express your sexual energy. you’ve learned something new about yourself sexually but because it would be looked down upon by others, it’s almost like you’re considering suppressing it. your sexual energy is telling you to listen to it. not other people. there’s also a strong need to learn how to embrace your sexuality too, without shame - in your own energy. nobody else has to know about this if you don’t want them to. and you can embrace your sexual energy completely by yourself in your own time, whatever that may be. learning how to develop love for the self and the body and your own personal opinions will propel you forward into freeing yourself from this mental conflict that you’re enduring. a lack of self love or self worth might be the culprit as to why you struggle to believe and listen to your own opinions, wants, and needs about yourself. and maybe this is why you look to others for guidance - but you won’t find the answer that you’re looking for externally. you already know the answer because the answer comes from you, but you’re suppressing it again. your sexual energy wants you to find your sexual truth by yourself - away from the sight of others first. write down who you are sexually in a world where no opinions about your sexual identity and behaviour could be projected onto you. what would it look like then?

• pile three •

pile three, your sexual energy is POTENT. wayyy more potent than you realise. it’s like people get trapped in your essence without even speaking to you and a lot of you have to deal with people assuming that you’re way more sexual than you actually are. this is the reason why. especially when it comes to men/masculines. they love to project what they assume you’re like sexually because what they assume is what they fantasise about you. you have a very blocked sexual energy though. not blocked to yourself but blocked to the external world - and this isn’t a bad thing. it’s guarded more than blocked. i’m seeing you as someone who has sexual energy that’s going to be felt regardless of whether you want it to be or not. no amount of covering up or keeping yourself small, quiet, and innocent-looking will change that (even if you are. even if you’re a whole virgin out here). but people know that it’s nowhere near easy to get into it. you seem to be very disconnected from others and their sexual advances. you could have a history of shutting down other people’s projections of you. and i’m also hearing that you challenge people’s ignorance (mainly men’s). the sexual undertone of your energy is what they attribute to a “certain type” of person (people who they’d consider “h0es” or people who they’d shame sexually in some way) but they can’t do that with you because the way that you carry yourself and your standards is the complete opposite of what they’d expect it to be based on your sex appeal. your demeanour comes off as very cold, direct, swift, and maybe even judgemental. and you clearly don’t focus on the attention from others. you have a “couldn’t care less” attitude. that alone puts people in their place even if you don’t verbally, and it often has people feeling rejected. insecure. like they don’t live up to your standards (because they don’t). your sexual energy is telling you that you embody the true archetype of a femme fatale. not the type that you see on tiktok lmao. not the manufactured version of a femme fatale where people think that you can force yourself to be one by dressing in black and being unnecessarily rude and bitchy to make up for low self esteem and suppressed resentment and pain - instead of actually just doing shadow work (no shade 👀). this isn’t forced. it comes naturally to you which is why i’m seeing that this may be something that you’re shocked to hear about. you don’t force yourself to be something that you’re not to be seen as a “bad bitch” or a “boss” or the “it girl” when you’re actually soft af. i mean, you could be, but you genuinely embody the energy that so many people try to but fail to. why? because it’s not them. you though? this is you. naturally. and there’s so much power in this. you know this deep down but feel like you’re being delusional, or big headed or something negative. you’re not. you just know that you’re the shit, so your stable sense of self weeds out the people who can’t handle you. i heard “you’re not for everybody”. not everyone can handle you. and that’s fine. let them take themselves out of your life and don’t let anybody try to “bring you down to size” just because they’re threatened by you. whether that’s because they want you but can’t have you, or they wish they were you. your detached and harsh demeanour also protects you from a lot of predators who’d think that they can prey on you if you were more open and friendly. your sexual energy is very threatening to people. and they know that you’re not one to be fucked with.

[viking-raider]

Two Hearts - Cotton Candy Goodness

Summary-> It's a special Valentine's Day for you and Henry.

Pairing-> Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count-> 1.4k

Warnings-> G: Fluff, Language, just two nerds in love

Inspiration-> V-Day!

Author’s Note-> It's stupid late!

-> Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS! -> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

“Perfect!”

Henry smiled as he sprinkled a few more white rose petals amongst the red that dusted the grass of the backyard of the Dorking mini-mansion he shared with you and Kal.

“Kal, quit trying to eat them!” He scolded the Bear. “You have to leave some for the surprise.” He sighed, brushing a hand through his curls and looking at all the work he put in with the trail of red and white petals, outlined with twinkling LED tealights, that led from the open back doors of the house into a heart shape underneath the gazebo, where you usually relaxed during the cool or warm, English days to grill, practice lines or Henry keep his sword skills sharp.

However, the sound of an engine coming up the driveway startled Henry back into action, a nervous panic filling his stomach as he dashed back into the house. Hiding the leftover petals, he took a deep breath, settling himself, before greeting you in the foyer as you came through the door.

“Hey, babe.” He beamed, taking your purse and coat. “How was your spa appointment?” He asked, putting them away, antsy and hoping you didn't suspect anything.

“It was positively lovely!” You answered, toeing your shoes off. “The full body, exfoliating massage with hot stones was pure bliss, and we may need to invest in getting our own vitality pool.” You smiled up at him, your whole body still feeling tingly, limp noodle, in all the right ways and places.

“I'm glad I booked you the correct treatment, then.” Henry purred, hooking an arm around your waist to pull you into a sweet kiss. “But, I have one more surprise for you.” He confessed against your lips.

“Really?” You frowned up at him. “I haven't given you any of yours yet.” You commented, hugging your arms around his waist.

“What could you possibly give me that I don't already have and need?” He asked, blue eyes soft and soulful.

“Oh, there's many things to come in our future, Henry Cavill.” You giggled, pushing up on your toes to kiss his stubbly jaw, then broke free from him, scurrying away upstairs to your office, a sacred place Henry never tread unless you were there.

Making it the perfect hiding spot for anything you wanted to keep Henry's paws off of.

Plucking up a cute Valentine's day gift bag, you returned downstairs to find your boyfriend patiently waiting for you. “Happy Valentine's Day, Puppy.” You smiled, handing it over with a giddy excitement.

“Thank you, Dove.” He winked, crossing the foyer for the den, plopping down into his gaming chair and removing the red tissue paper. “Holy!” He gasped, eyes flaring as his blue orbs were greeted with the bag's contents. “Babe!” He snapped, pulling out the latest GeForce RTX graphics card. “I've been trying to get this for weeks, but it's been sold out!” He looked up at you, mouth hanging open.

“How?”

“I sold what was left of my soul.” You chuckled, grinning, having listened to Henry's laments every time he checked for the card to be in stock. “I had my dad watch the site virtually around the clock, with my bank info, and the instructions to buy it the moment it came into stock.” You bit your lip and looked so guilty. “I confess, the card has been in the house for like two weeks.”

“You've had the holy grail of graphics cards in the house for two weeks?” Henry whispered, stunned. “I've been sleeping in the same space as it.” He grunted, shaking his head, gently setting it on his computer desk. “I'm canceling your gifts.”

You laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “No, you're not! There's one more.”

“I'll think about it.” He replied, narrowing his eyes as he dived a hand back into the bag, feeling around, until he caught the edge of an envelope. “What's this?” He frowned, opening the flap to discover a single swath of fabric.

“You know, how we started your family tree, and you wanted to know more about your Scottish side?” You reminded him. “To get; in touch with your Highlander side.” You quoted him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, rubbing his thumb over the soft stitching.

“Well, I've been fiddling around with it, and I found the Tartan for that side of your family tree.” You explained, pressing your lips together. “There's this company I found online that replicates it. I just had them do the pocket square, cause I wasn't sure how into it you'd be, for something more full blown, like a whole kilt or--”

Henry stood up and practically crushed you against his body, leaving just enough room to breathe. “Thank you.” He whispered into your hair, nuzzling your strands softly. “It means a lot more than the graphics card.”

You smiled and snuggled against him, inhaling his scent and warmth. “I'm glad.”

The two of you stayed in your embrace for a long moment, enjoying the quiet closeness. Until Henry spotted Kal charging in, petals in his mouth.

“Fuck.” He hissed under his breath.

“What's wrong?” You frowned, shifting in his arms.

“Nothing, nothing's wrong, my love.” He grinned, turning slightly so you didn't see Kal. “But, it is my turn to give you your last gift.” He cooed, removing a red blindfold he had tucked in his back pocket.

“Oh, I didn't know it was kinky Sunday.” You teased, allowing Henry to blindfold you.

Henry chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to the bridge of your nose, resting his hands on your shoulder and helping you turn around. Disoriented as you were, you trusted Henry to guide you wherever he was taking you. Back through the foyer and to the back patio, where the start of his rose petal trail began, thankfully still intact. Despite Kal's seeming intent to eat them like the strange goat that he was. He stepped around you, taking your hands to help you down the single step out of the house and navigate the patio furniture.

“Where are we going, Strider? Mordor?” You quipped, the scent and feeling of freshly mowed grass and the cool, fresh air greeting your nose, telling you where you were.

“It's closed this time of year, little Hobbit.” Henry chuckled back at you, bringing you to a stop under the gazebo and the center of the rose petal heart. “I thought we'd visit Rivendell instead.” He cooed, removing the blindfold.

Blinking a few times, you looked about you and admired the gazebo. Everything that normally adorned it cleared away, so it could be decorated with the rose petals and twinkling fairy lights. The four corner supports of the structure had photos of you and Henry throughout your relationship adorning them. To which Henry had made a sweet note on each.

“You went all out, while I was at the Spa.” You said, looking up at him, a wave of suspicious nerves hitting you.

“It was a double motive.” Henry smirked with boyish guilt.

“So, what was the other part of your motive?” You asked, a slight squeak in your voice.

Henry took your hands in his, massaging his thumbs over your knuckles, while trying to build the courage and words to speak what he was feeling. He took a deep breath, nervously kissing one of your hands, with a soft chuckle.

“I love you.” He blurted out, meeting your eyes. “I didn't think I could love anyone as much as I love you. When we're not together, even if it's a different room, I miss you, and I feel like I'm missing a part of myself. Then, when we are together,” He drew in a breath and sighed softly, the ghost of a fond smile on his lips. “I could care less about anything else.” He confessed to you, releasing one of your hands to access his front pocket, kneeling on one knee at the same time.

“Oh, cheese and crackers.” You sighed, eyes wide.

“Or maybe, Cavill and Cavill, if you say yes?” Henry replied, holding out one of the most beautiful rings you'd ever seen in your life. “To marry me?” He cocked a hopeful brow.

“Yeah.” You nodded, stunned, excitement building in you like carbonation. “Yes!” You giggled, bouncing on your toes. “God, Henry, YES!”

A beaming smile lit up Henry's face as he stood back up, taking a moment to get the ring on your finger, his hands shaking so bad. “Now, you can eat them, Kal!” He shouted towards the house, making you laugh, before he pulled you into a breathless kiss.

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Devil's Night~

hello everyone! i'm back with the part 02 of devil's night. it is finished, i think. it's not my best writing, i haven't had a great day. so i hope you enjoyed it a little.

the idea for this is inspired by @things-arent-what-they-seem66's AU of adam and lilith switching places.

i know harvest is over but i have a few more things to write!

hope you all enjoy it!

part 01 - part 02

@adamsappleweek

Lucifer was beside himself. A strange, prickling sensation crawled over his skin, making every hair stand on end as he paced his lavish, dimly lit office. He didn’t think he’d ever been this nervous before—hell, even ‘nervous’ felt like a poor word for it. Agitated, tense, almost terrified. As he glanced around the vast space, his gaze flickered over elegant but strange mementos that barely felt like his own, particularly a row of glass-encased rubber ducks on the wall. His other self shared his fascination with the odd trinkets, but even that taste seemed tempered, refined. Controlled.

Control. That was the key difference.

He’d only been in this twisted mirror world a short time, but it already felt like it might drown him. The day’s schedule—a rigid, suffocating list of duties and audiences—mocked him from the polished mahogany desk. Meetings. Meetings with the damned. Meetings with the Sins. Meetings with Heaven. How the hell did his other self, this polished, all-powerful version of him, keep it all together? And on top of it, somehow managed to be the kind of partner and father Lucifer could never imagine himself being. That reality sent an unfamiliar chill down his spine.

His jaw clenched as his eyes traced over the maddeningly neat schedule. His other self apparently held weekly meetings with Heaven—a feat he couldn’t even fathom. He’d spent centuries barely able to get Heaven’s attention, and here this alternate version of him was practically scheduling tea with them. Every cell in his body bristled at the idea. When did he find time for Adam? And Charlie? Yet somehow, this Lucifer was doing it all.

With a low growl, he sank into the plush velvet chair, feeling its cool embrace swallow him up. His mind drifted to Adam—Adam, who was evidently married to him in this version of Hell, and who was pregnant with their second child. It was surreal. In his universe, this possibility had never crossed his mind, yet here, he was everything Adam needed and more. It made his heart ache in a way he didn’t want to admit. Adam had confessed his love to him—him, the impostor—in that soft, genuine way that Lucifer knew was meant for the other man. Each declaration sent a flutter through him, a buzz he couldn’t ignore, even as it filled him with guilt. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was treading on sacred ground, some universe where he’d somehow gotten things…right.

Still, as he slouched lower in his seat, an unspoken question gnawed at him: What was wrong with him? How had this other Lucifer mastered an empire, commanded respect, and found time for a family, while he himself had barely managed to scrape by with half-hearted rule? Responsibility had always felt like an anchor around his neck. He avoided it. Yet here was a version of himself who carried it with ease, with honor. He was the King of Hell that mortals feared, that legends whispered of in terror. And then there was…him. Lucifer, the one who spent more time drinking or escaping into distraction than running his kingdom.

A soft knock at the door broke his spiral of thoughts, and he straightened, surprised by the twinge of anticipation that sparked through him.

“Come in,” he called, voice gruffer than he intended.

The door creaked open, and there stood Adam, his face bathed in a warm glow, a gentle calm that Lucifer found himself craving more with each passing day. Beneath Adam’s loose shirt, his rounded belly was unmistakable, the quiet yet powerful reminder of the life growing inside him. Lucifer’s gaze softened; his eyes drawn irresistibly to that swell.

How was this even possible? he wondered, still electrified and mystified by the thought. Lucifer wanted to look, wanted to part Adam’s thighs and see if he had a pussy. That had to be the only way Adam could be pregnant.

Did Adam have a vagina in his dimension?

“Hey,” Adam murmured, his smile a mix of shyness and insight as he caught Lucifer’s stare. “I thought I’d check on you. You look…tense.”

Lucifer chuckled, a low, dry sound as he gestured to the miserable stack of schedules spread before him. “You could say that.”

But when he saw Adam’s brow furrow in concern, Lucifer straightened and quickly tried to smooth down his unruly hair. “It’s nothing, really. Just…work.”

Adam slowly waddled across the office, and Lucifer’s sharp red-and-gold eyes followed him, softening with each step. There was something entrancing in the way Adam’s hand instinctively went to his stomach, rubbing it with gentle affection.

“You’ve been working hard. Then again, you always work hard.” Adam’s words were quiet, almost habitual, as he approached Lucifer’s desk.

Just as he reached the edge of Lucifer’s plush office chair, Lucifer jumped up, offering it to him.

Adam laughed softly but shook his head, remaining standing. “I’m fine, really.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to insist, then thought better of it and remained on his feet as well.

“I work too much, don’t I?” he asked, his voice softer than he intended.

Adam reached out, brushing a warm hand over Lucifer’s cheek, his fingers caressing the unfamiliar lines of his face.

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Adam replied, his smile touched with affection. “But you’ve always brushed me off, saying you had to work hard to keep Hell safe.”

Lucifer closed his eyes, leaning into Adam’s hand. The warmth of his touch melted the tension from his body, grounding him.

Safe? Lucifer wondered, feeling a flicker of doubt. Safe from what? Heaven?

But he stopped himself from asking, afraid of breaking whatever spell this was, of risking Adam pulling away from him. This moment felt like the very thing he’d been yearning for. Lucifer placed his clawed hand over Adam’s, holding it against his cheek as he gazed up at him from beneath long, dark lashes.

“We haven’t had much time together, have we?” he murmured, his voice low, almost apologetic. “I’ve been so caught up…in my duties.”

Adam blinked, clearly surprised by the admission, his expression shifting to one of bashful shyness.

“Well, no, we haven’t,” he replied, almost timidly. “But it’s okay…you’re the King of Hell and all. I understand.”

Lucifer swallowed hard, stepping closer to him, close enough that Adam’s pregnant belly pressed against him. A tiny, bittersweet realization hit him—even here, in this world, he still couldn’t quite match his counterpart.

Even their height was slightly different; he barely reached Adam’s should back in his world, but here, his other self reached Adam’s nose. Still, he closed the gap, his voice barely a whisper as he cupped Adam’s face, his claws tracing gentle circles on Adam’s cheeks.

“I know I haven’t been very present. But I’m going to change that. Hell won’t fall apart without me for a few hours.”

Adam’s gaze turned doubtful, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d heard such a promise. “Luci, you…you don’t have to say that just to make me happy. I know things are changing, and it’s important.”

His words had a practiced, almost automatic feel, as though he’d memorized them after hearing them too many times.

Lucifer’s stomach twisted. Had his other self made these promises before? The same empty reassurances Adam had quoted earlier in the kitchen? Did his other self regularly make promises he had no intention of keeping?

“Fuck that,” Lucifer said, his voice sharp with conviction. Adam’s eyes widened, a flicker of hope and wariness blending in his gaze.

“Fuck the changes. And fuck all that ‘it’s important’ crap. It can wait a few hours. No—scratch that. It can wait until tomorrow.”

Adam spluttered, his golden eyes lighting up with hope, though doubt shadowed them. Lucifer slipped his arms around him, pulling Adam close with a fierce smile.

“Actually, no, screw the whole week,” he declared, his voice firm. “I’m officially on vacation. I’m sure Hell will survive without me for a few days.”

Adam’s mouth dropped open, a mixture of surprise and joy crossing his face. “R-really? You’re not just saying that?”

In answer, Lucifer leaned up, ignoring the bump of Adam’s belly pressing into him, and kissed him softly, lingering there until the kiss deepened, as if it could make up for every broken promise.

“I’m not just saying it,” he whispered as he pulled away. “In fact, watch me.”

With a flair that felt more like his true self than ever, Lucifer flopped back into the plush chair, casting Adam a devilish grin as he snapped his fingers. Instantly, a golden screen shimmered into existence, who Lucifer assumed was his assistant appeared on the other side, wide-eyed and anxious.

“Sir!” his assistant blurted, sitting up straight. “You’re almost three minutes late! It would be unwise to keep Leviathan, the King of Envy, waiting!”

Lucifer’s curiosity prickled at the mention of Leviathan—a Sin who, in his own world, rarely bothered him. But before he could lean forward to ask about it, he caught Adam’s expression, the way his golden eyes dimmed as he took a small step back, already resigned to disappointment.

So this is how it was, Lucifer realized with a bitter pang. This other Lucifer really did make these empty promises.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Lucifer sat up and waved a hand dismissively. “I’m afraid not! Please clear my schedule for the entire week!”

“W-Wha-“

“I’m officially on vacation!” he announced brightly.

The assistant stammered, clearly taken aback, but Lucifer plowed on before they could interject. “I’ll be back next week. Reschedule all the important meetings and extend my regards to Leviathan and the rest. I’ll be unreachable—I’m sure you understand. My husband is heavily pregnant and needs my attention, and my dear daughter has invited us to her hotel for some well-deserved family time.”

The assistant gasped, visibly bristling. “Sir! You mustn’t cancel—”

“Thank you! Goodbye!” And with a final snap of his fingers, the screen vanished in a shimmering wisp.

Turning back to Adam, Lucifer grinned, pleased with himself.

“See? All done!” he declared, his eyes sparkling with pride.

Adam blinked at him, mouth opening and closing, clearly stunned. He stared at Lucifer as though seeing him for the first time, as if unable to believe this was real. Smiling, Lucifer rounded his desk, sliding his hands into Adam’s and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“There. I’m all yours again,” he murmured.

Adam stood there, utterly stunned, his golden eyes wide as he processed what had just happened. Lucifer couldn’t resist a soft, triumphant chuckle as he watched the expression on Adam’s face transform from shock to hesitant delight. A surge of warmth bloomed in his chest; it was painfully clear that Adam rarely received this kind of attention from the Lucifer he thought he knew.

And in this moment, if Lucifer knew anything, it was that Adam deserved every bit of it.

“You’re…really serious?” Adam whispered, his voice so low it seemed he feared any louder sound might shatter this moment.

Lucifer gave Adam’s hands a reassuring squeeze, pulling him closer, his usual devilish grin softened into something genuine.

“Absolutely,” he murmured, his tone carrying an earnestness that surprised even him. “I know I…I’ve probably made a hundred promises before. But this time, I mean it. You and Charlie… you’re my whole world this week.”

Adam let out a slow breath, his expression softening into something vulnerable and raw. Lucifer’s heart pounded, feeling something he couldn’t quite place. Without another word, Adam leaned forward, resting his head on Lucifer’s shoulder, and Lucifer’s arms wrapped around him instinctively, pulling him into an embrace so warm and steady that it felt almost too real.

They stood there in silence, Adam’s rounded belly pressing gently between them—a reminder of this life they could have shared, however miraculous and surreal it felt to Lucifer. He knew he should feel out of place, like an imposter in another man’s life, but in this rare instant, he felt strangely…at home.

“I’ve missed you,” Adam whispered, the words so soft they nearly vanished in the quiet. “More than I can say.”

The confession struck something deep within him. This other Lucifer had left Adam feeling fractured, alone even in their togetherness. Tilting Adam’s chin up, Lucifer met his gaze, trying to communicate with his eyes what he couldn’t explain with words.

“Well, get used to me,” he murmured, grinning in a way that he hoped was as comforting as it was teasing. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Adam’s cheeks flushed, his mouth curving into a tentative smile that Lucifer found almost too endearing. He leaned in and kissed him, savouring how Adam melted into him, as though the walls that had kept them apart were finally crumbling. In that moment, the weight of Hell, his duties, and the impossible situation he was navigating faded to the background. This was the only reality he wanted—one that, even if borrowed, he intended to treasure.

When they pulled apart, Adam’s hand remained entwined with his, giving a soft, almost reluctant squeeze.

 “So…what now?” Adam asked, a spark of excitement in his voice.

Lucifer’s smirk crept wider, amusement flickering in his eyes for two reasons. First, Adam looked positively adorable, his face lighting up with that innocent excitement Lucifer so rarely encountered. Second, he’d uncovered a weakness, a chink in the perfect armour of this other Lucifer—a slip in family obligations that he could easily exploit.

“How about we surprise Charlie with a visit?” he suggested, his tone velvety smooth, disguising the tiny thrill of mischief that was building. “I think our daughter would love a bit of family time.”

Adam’s eyes brightened, a spark of joy that made Lucifer’s heart stammer—a reaction he hadn’t anticipated. For a brief moment, the shadowed bitterness ebbed, replaced by a soft warmth. Here, Adam’s happiness felt… real, almost achingly genuine.

“She’ll be thrilled!” Adam laughed, the sound rich and bubbling, weaving between them like music.

“She’s been asking about you for so long.” He shook his head with a fond smile. “Charlie’s going to be so excited. She’s missed you terribly.”

"She… has?" Lucifer’s surprise was unmistakable.

In his own world, he and Charlie shared nothing close to such warmth; their relationship was strained, brittle—like glass, one wrong word away from shattering completely. She’d never reached out for him, much less longed for his company or well, that was before Lucifer came to her hotel and began to help her reach her dream. And yet here, in this strange universe, she wanted him around. She’d been asking for him, waiting for him.

Adam laughed again, a beautiful, unguarded sound. “Of course! She loves you silly. You’re her father. She’s been wanting you to come to her hotel for ages now, especially since she started working with the redeemed souls.”

The words hit Lucifer with a surprising force, his breath hitching slightly. This other Lucifer had something he didn’t—a daughter’s love and a husband’s unwavering support. But before he could sink too far into that unfamiliar ache, the old bitterness stirred in his chest.

“Oh, but I’ve been too busy,” he finished, biting back the irritation that threatened to curl his voice.

Too busy. It was exactly the sort of excuse that grated on his nerves, even though he had used it himself a thousand times before.

Adam nodded, looking sheepish, and squeezed his hands. “But it’s okay—Charlie understands! She knows you have to keep Hell in order. You’re doing the hard work.”

Adam’s faith, his quiet acceptance, only made the bitterness throb harder. Excuses.

His other self had managed to keep his family with half-hearted promises and sweet words. The unfairness of it sank in, twisting like a thorn in Lucifer’s chest. It would’ve been so easy for this other Lucifer to take a week—a single week—to be with them. Just as he would, if he had the chance.

Forcing himself to breathe, he swallowed the biting words on his tongue and pulled Adam closer, the tension in him slowly ebbing as he rested his forehead against Adam’s cheek.

“Well,” he murmured softly, his voice wrapping around Adam like a promise, “I’m going to change that. I’m not too busy anymore.”

He pulled back, meeting Adam’s gaze with a fierce determination that made Adam’s eyes widen, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I’m here,” Lucifer continued, his tone thick with conviction. “For you, for Charlie… for all of it.”

Adam’s face softened, his smile tender and filled with something Lucifer couldn’t quite name, a kind of love that felt almost foreign, almost painfully sweet.

“I know, love,” Adam whispered, leaning forward to press a warm kiss to his forehead. “And we’re here for you, too.”

The words settled around him like a blanket, unfamiliar but comforting, something he hadn’t realized he’d longed for. He could feel the power of this universe, of this life he’d stumbled into, settling over him, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt… at home.

“I can’t wait to see her.”

"Good," Adam murmured, tilting his face to meet Lucifer’s gaze. "It’s been so long since she’s seen you. You know how much she admires you, always telling everyone that her father’s the king of Hell yet has the biggest heart down there."

Lucifer’s chest tightened, struck by the weight of Adam's words. Admiration? In his world, Charlie rarely granted him anything close to admiration; disappointment was more the tune of their conversations. And yet here, this version of himself had managed to bridge that chasm. But beneath the sweetness lay a bitter bite. He was starting to despise this other Lucifer, the one who seemed to waltz effortlessly into a life of closeness and forgiveness while he, himself, had been shut out by his own daughter’s scorn.

Adam chuckled, a lovely blush blooming across his cheeks that made Lucifer’s heart race.

“Also,” he murmured, glancing down with a playful smirk, “I think you might have… given your assistant a few ideas about what we’ve been up to before you opened the channels.”

Lucifer blinked, furrowing his brows. “What do you mean?” he stammered, genuinely puzzled.

Adam’s eyes sparkled as he gestured down the length of Lucifer’s body, his blush deepening to an irresistible pink. “You’re… um, not exactly dressed for a formal meeting, my love.”

Lucifer’s gaze followed Adam’s, trailing down his own body until his eyes went wide. He was standing there, in full view of the channel, dressed in nothing but his ridiculous duck-themed boxers.

Heat flooded his face as he sputtered, “I forgot!”

But he quickly regained his confidence, flashing Adam a roguish grin. “Well, now they know just how much I adore my beautiful queen!”

Adam snorted, the blush never leaving his cheeks, his eyes warm with affection and just a hint of mischief.

“Oh, they know all right,” he laughed, squeezing Lucifer’s hands before gently tugging him toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get ready. If we want to surprise Charlie, we’ll need to leave within an hour. She was planning to come pick me up so I wouldn’t have to travel alone again.”

Lucifer’s brows creased as he followed, still gazing at Adam with an adoring smile before something curious crossed his mind. “Travel alone? Why don’t you just… open a portal?”

Adam gave him a quizzical look, chuckling as he leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Lucifer’s lips. “Very funny, Luci. I can’t use magic—you know that.”

Lucifer froze, his mind stuttering over Adam’s words. Adam couldn’t use magic? But in his own world, Lilith could wield dark magic easily after her fall. How could it be that Adam, his Adam, was different? Lucifer quickly masked his confusion, breathing a small sigh of relief when Adam turned away, unaware of his bewilderment.

The last thing Lucifer wanted was for Adam to discover the truth—that he wasn’t truly his Lucifer. This world had become so precious, so enticing, and Lucifer longed to keep his secret and continue living this enchanted life, to remain here with Adam, and even with Charlie. But his curiosity simmered beneath the surface. Why didn’t Adam have magic? And why were there these strange differences—the blue tones in the mansion instead of red, Adam’s striking blue horns, unlike Lilith’s blood-red ones? The blue glow seemed to calm him, like a gentle presence, so different from the harsh, fiery atmosphere of his own Hell.

Pushing the questions from his mind, Lucifer grinned and tightened his hold on Adam’s hand, swinging their joined hands playfully, earning another beautiful laugh from his husband. Adam’s laugh was light, rich, and filled with a joy that sent warmth coursing through Lucifer.

“You’re such a dork,” Adam teased, nudging Lucifer’s shoulder.

Lucifer nudged back with a smirk. “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

Adam’s smile softened, and he gazed at Lucifer with such pure adoration that it made Lucifer’s chest ache.

 “That’s right,” he murmured, voice tender. “You’re my dork.”

Overcome with affection, Lucifer cupped Adam’s cheek, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips. Here, there were no servants bustling around, no formality—just the two of them in the quiet intimacy of this strange and wonderful world. In his own dimension, Lilith had insisted on servants to cater to her every whim, but here, with only Adam’s presence filling the mansion, Lucifer felt free. Free to be his truest, most ridiculous self, free to love without restraint.

And he intended to cherish every moment he could get away with in this paradise, so long as fate allowed him to stay.

By the time they reached their shared chambers, Adam was breathless, his cheeks flushed a delicious shade of red. Gently, he pushed Lucifer back, laughing shyly.

"We don’t have time for that, Luci,” he murmured, his lips swollen from the countless times Lucifer had pinned him to the walls along the way, stealing one kiss after another.

Lucifer pouted, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Aw, but Addie… just one more kiss?”

Adam bit his lip, fighting back a shy smile as he lifted a hand to cover his mouth, stopping Lucifer’s advance.

“As much as I’d love for us to continue… we really don’t have the time right now.” He glanced down, placing a gentle hand over his rounded belly. “And besides, the last time we got carried away like that, we ended up with this little gift…”

Lucifer’s pout transformed instantly into a broad grin as he gazed at Adam’s stomach, his heart swelling at the sight of his husband lovingly cradling their unborn child. He longed to peel away Adam’s oversized shirt, to run his hands over every curve, to marvel at his husband’s softness and beauty.

But Lucifer resisted, letting the moment linger as Adam shyly added, “Maybe later… tonight?”

“Yes! Yes!” Lucifer’s voice was an eager whisper, his heart practically leaping at the promise. Adam’s laugh was light and sweet as he reached up to playfully poke Lucifer’s forehead.

“Now go get changed,” Adam insisted, his voice taking on a soft but serious tone. “We don’t have much time. Charlie will be here soon to pick me up—she didn’t want me traveling alone again. Don’t we want to surprise her?”

Lucifer’s ruby and golden eyes sparkled. “Right… we’re going to surprise Charlie.”

Adam leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to his cheek, then gestured toward the wardrobe, carved with a pattern of ducks that somehow looked endearing, especially with Adam’s warm smile lighting up the room.

Lucifer watched, utterly smitten, as Adam disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. He recognized it as the door Adam had stepped out of this morning when he’d first woken up here, alone and dazed, half-convinced it was all a dream. Letting out a dreamy sigh, he turned toward the wardrobe’s grand, duck-carved doors and pulled them open.

His breath caught at the sight—a vast, shared walk-in closet that seemed to stretch endlessly. It was a wardrobe fit for two, filled with racks upon racks of clothes, shoes, belts, bags, and more, all laid out perfectly. Here, in this universe, Adam had embraced the idea of sharing a wardrobe with him, something Lilith had always rejected back in his own world. A flutter of warmth rose in Lucifer’s chest as he ran his hands over what must be Adam’s section of clothing. He noted the punk-inspired themes, softened by cozy textures—clothes meant to be both stylish and comfortable. It suited Adam perfectly, especially now that he was… pregnant.

The discovery only deepened as he found matching pajama sets in various animal designs, including, to his delight, a series of duck onesies in a bright golden color. There was even a punk-rock version, complete with faux leather accents and silver embellishments. Lucifer let out a soft whine, imagining Adam wearing one of those duck onesies. They must have dressed up and snuggled together often, he thought, a pang of jealousy tugging at him before he managed to shake it off. Carefully, he smoothed out the fabric, placing the onesie back in its spot before moving further into the wardrobe.

As he walked, he froze, his gaze catching on a row of dark suits. He furrowed his brows, realizing every single one was black.

“What’s wrong?” Adam’s voice floated over, and he waddled into the closet, looking brighter and more at ease after freshening up. Lucifer turned to him with a frown.

“They’re black,” he murmured, still baffled.

Adam blinked, tilting his head before carefully approaching and inspecting the suits, his fingers skimming over the fabric with a discerning touch.

“You mean your suits?” he asked curiously.

His face scrunching up as he dropped the sleeve of one in favour of a different fabric, letting out a contented sigh as he found a softer texture. Lucifer noticed how particular Adam seemed about the feel of certain fabrics. Was he sensitive to textures, or perhaps had a sensory sensitivity?

“Yeah,” Lucifer said, taking the suit Adam seemed to prefer and holding it up to his body. “But… where are my white suits?”

Adam squinted, tilting his head in thought. “You don’t wear white suits, Luci. Well, you used to, but you got rid of them after Charlie kept drawing on them when she was little.”

“You decided it looked… unprofessional.” Adam shrugged, reaching for something on a higher shelf as if the idea was of little consequence.

“Unprofessional?” Lucifer’s frown deepened as he looked up, spotting a familiar white top hat perched on the topmost shelf, far out of reach.

“But I liked that suit… it reminded me of Eden.” Adam hummed softly, turning back to him with a warm smile spreading across his face, “But I think black looks very nice on you.”

With a shy glance, he reached out and traced his fingers along the sleeve of the suit Lucifer held, seemingly absorbed in the texture.

“Then I’ll get more white suits… to remind you of Eden,” Lucifer said with a grin, winking as he watched a lovely blush spread across Adam’s cheeks.

Adam’s smile softened as he continued touching the fabric.

“Of course, Luci,” he whispered, looking almost lost in the moment.

Lucifer leaned in, feeling a swell of affection so strong it made his heart ache. In this strange, wonderful world, he could live without the formality and coldness that had defined his life back home. Here, he could revel in these soft, intimate moments, with no one to serve or judge, no one to spoil the simple beauty of his life with Adam and Charlie.

“Tonight,” he murmured again, letting his voice brush over Adam’s ear as he took his hand. “When Charlie’s gone, it’s just you and me, Addie.”

Adam nodded, his blush deepening, and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Then hurry up and get dressed… I’d hate to keep Charlie waiting.”

With a final look, Lucifer released Adam’s hand and turned back to the suit, his mind lingering on the upcoming night. As he dressed, he thought of how he would make the evening one to remember, savouring every precious moment.

Lucifer stood in front of a row of six full-length mirrors, his reflection shifting as he took in the details of this version of himself. This body was different—taller, with a leaner build, but subtly more muscular. He tugged at the black jacket, adjusting the fit over his shoulders, and twisted to inspect how the dark, sharp lines sat against his frame. It was strange, not seeing the usual white and red but instead a black suit trimmed with a rich blue—a ringmaster’s design, certainly, but one with an air of authority, almost refined.

The coat draped perfectly, the eight gleaming golden buttons giving a striking contrast to the deep fabric. Beneath it, a black and blue-striped waistcoat hugged his torso, the two gold buttons adding a hint of flair. The black pants, unlike the puffed ones he wore in his own dimension, were slender and fitted, disappearing neatly into knee-high, heeled boots that comfortably accommodated his hooves. Lucifer stretched one leg, marvelling at how the boots didn’t pinch—they fit as though crafted for his steps.

He caught sight of his bare hands and paused, noticing the thin band of gold circling his left ring finger. His wedding ring. He stared for a moment, feeling the smooth metal, almost surprised to see it there, glinting with a familiar warmth. His heart gave a little flutter, realizing this world’s Lucifer—his husband—had the same symbol of commitment.

“One more thing!” Adam’s voice chimed, sweet and warm, pulling him from his thoughts. Lucifer turned as Adam approached, holding up a black top hat and placing it gently onto his golden curls.

"There. Dashing," Adam murmured, smiling with a soft, admiring look.

Lucifer turned back to the mirror and studied his reflection; the hat was a near replica of the one he wore in his own world, except this one was a deep, elegant black, crowned with a golden apple and spiked accents that looked almost like a regal crest.

Adam chuckled softly, and Lucifer’s gaze dropped to see a small green snake coiled around Adam’s hand.

“And let’s not forget Basil.” Adam raised his hand, and the snake slithered gracefully up to wrap itself around the hat’s middle, settling like a living band around the brim.

Lucifer’s eyes went from the hat to Adam’s fingers, where his own gold wedding ring caught the light. He exhaled, feeling an unexpected wave of relief and a bright grin spread across his face.

"And you,” he murmured, leaning close, his voice dropping to a playful warmth, “You look lovely too.”

Adam gave a small snort, glancing down at himself with a shy shrug.

“I guess I look okay,” he said, tugging lightly at his outfit.

Unlike the overly ornate robes worn by the Adam in Lucifer’s original world, this attire was simple and comfortable. Black leggings and an oversized blue t-shirt layered under a soft, black cardigan. The shirt hung loose, subtly concealing his rounded belly. Lucifer could see how Adam’s clothes were chosen more for comfort than style, a quiet effort to shield and protect his growing form.

A soft pout tugged at Lucifer’s lips. He stepped forward, sliding his arms around Adam’s waist, drawing him close.

“I think you’re beautiful no matter what,” he whispered, letting his fingers rest gently over Adam’s hands.

Adam’s blush deepened, a smile flickering at the corners of his lips.

“Luci…” he murmured, the warmth in his voice almost shy, a quiet fondness slipping through. He looked up at Lucifer, his blue eyes bright with love and laughter.

They lingered there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, before Adam cleared his throat, his cheeks still pink.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a chuckle. “We really should get going. Charlie’s not known for her patience, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Lucifer laughed, nuzzling Adam’s cheek affectionately before pulling back.

"Fair enough. But tonight…" He lowered his voice, brushing his thumb gently over Adam’s chin. “Tonight, we celebrate properly.”

Adam’s eyes softened, his fingers lingering on Lucifer’s chest before he nodded, an almost dreamy smile on his face.

"Tonight,” he agreed quietly.

Lucifer pulled Adam closer, his arm sliding around Adam’s waist, feeling the warmth of his husband’s body against his own. His clawed hand came to rest gently on Adam’s round, pregnant stomach, the soft fabric of Adam’s clothes warm beneath his fingertips. He breathed in shakily, the familiar and comforting warmth of the growing life beneath Adam’s skin making his heart swell with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe—an overwhelming love that was both tender and protective.

His lips curled into a smile, filled with affection as he looked up at Adam, his eyes softening with an almost reverent gaze. Lucifer tilted his head to rest against Adam’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, and whispered in a voice that was all warmth.

“Are you ready?”

Adam’s smile bloomed even brighter, and his eyes sparkled with love.

“Yep,” he replied, his voice light but filled with a deep joy.

Lucifer’s heart fluttered as he leaned up, capturing Adam’s lips in a kiss—slow and sweet, leaving Adam breathless in the best possible way. As he pulled back, he held up his hand, twirling his clawed finger through the air, summoning a spark of golden light. A portal slowly unfurled before them, its shape an elegant oval, glowing with a soft radiance as it opened to reveal the familiar, yet somehow different, doors of the Hazbin Hotel.

Adam stepped forward, and Lucifer helped him through the glowing threshold, his hand gently at the small of Adam’s back. As they emerged on the other side, Lucifer paused, looking up at the looming structure before them. This version of the Hazbin Hotel was not quite like the one he remembered from his world. It felt like a blend of his past and present—a bridge between destruction and rebirth, but with one clear difference: the blueish hue that softened its edges, lending it an ethereal quality. The once towering red stone was now a mix of deep blue, twilight purple, and soft indigo, with hints of shimmering black that caught the light.

The grounds around the hotel were a far cry from the barren, desolate landscape Lucifer had known. Instead of the harsh, red stone and crumbling debris, there was a garden. A lush, vibrant oasis of life—flourishing trees with thick, green leaves that whispered with the wind, and flowers of every shape and colour imaginable. The blossoms were unlike anything Lucifer had seen before, hues of violet, midnight blue, and soft lavender mingling together with delicate black petals. Strange, yet breathtakingly beautiful plants sprawled in every corner, their colours reflecting the night sky as if they belonged to some otherworldly realm.

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on the vibrant life growing around them, feeling something in his chest tighten with awe. The garden, so full of life, seemed so out of place in Hell, yet it thrived with an elegance that almost felt like it had been pulled from Eden itself. The soft glow of blue and purple plants bathed the area in a gentle light, like starlight captured in the form of petals and leaves. There were small pools of water that reflected the moonlit sky, their surfaces rippling gently with the breeze. The air was fragrant with the sweet scent of jasmine and lavender, and though the garden had its darker, more macabre elements—black thorns twisted up from the earth like tendrils, dark vines curling along the stone walls, and carnivorous flowers with jaws sharp enough to bite—there was a serenity to it all. The contrast of life and death, beauty and danger, only made it more captivating.

Lucifer’s mind began to race with questions. This garden—was it Adam’s influence? He couldn’t help but wonder, was Charlie also a gardener, or did she simply love this place because it reminded her of Adam? Had they tended to this garden together, perhaps in her childhood? He looked around, the beauty of it all almost overwhelming. It was a sanctuary amidst Hell’s chaos, as though the garden had been meticulously cultivated to embody peace and stillness in the face of the ever-present turmoil.

There were flowers that twinkled faintly, like little stars scattered across the bushes, while others bloomed with colours that shifted, as though they were constantly in motion. Some of the trees had dark trunks, almost black, but their leaves were a deep, lush green that shimmered in the soft light, casting shadows that played with the shifting colours of the garden.

Lucifer’s eyes were drawn to the centre of the garden, where a large tree stood—a twisted, gnarled thing with silver branches that seemed to stretch toward the heavens. From the tree hung long vines of tiny, glowing fruit, their lights pulsing like little stars—so different from the fiery, unforgiving landscape he had grown accustomed to in his world.

“This…” Lucifer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is like Eden, but…”

He trailed off, unsure of the word to capture what he was feeling.

Adam’s eyes glimmered, his lips curling into a soft smile as he looked around at the garden.

"You would have seen it earlier if you pulled yourself away from your work," Adam teased, his voice light and melodic, a soft hum in his chest as his golden eyes shone with pride.

He looked around the garden, eyes glowing with a love that radiated through every inch of the space. "Charlie and I worked hard on it. She's so amazing."

Lucifer puffed out his cheeks at Adam's words, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling up inside him. Why hadn’t his other self come to see this garden? Why hadn’t he made time for Charlie, for the world she was building here? It gnawed at him, the bitter ache of missed opportunities. He would give anything to have witnessed this, to see this beautiful space that Charlie had poured herself into, to feel this warmth, this peace. If only his Charlie had been able to create something like this, to nurture it with such love and care.

"I love it here," Adam continued, his voice gentle and thoughtful. "Charlie and I would spend so much time together here."

He closed his eyes, basking in the serenity of the garden before glancing at Lucifer. "It feels peaceful, doesn’t it?"

Lucifer nodded, forcing himself to breathe deeply, to calm the storm of emotions that raged within him. This was everything he had wanted. Everything he had dreamed of. His heart beat faster in his chest, the sensation of belonging overwhelming him. This place—this garden—felt like it was made just for him and Adam, a sanctuary born from their shared love. It was as if the garden itself was a manifestation of their connection.

He turned to Adam, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and affection.

“It’s beautiful,” Lucifer said quietly, his voice filled with tenderness. “Just like you.”

Adam blushed, the smile on his face widening as he reached out, taking Lucifer’s hand. Lucifer’s own heart swelled, and he added softly, “I know. I’ve missed a lot... but I promise to make it up to you and Charlie. I won’t miss anything else.”

Adam’s gaze softened, his golden eyes full of warmth as he squeezed Lucifer’s hand in return. “I love you.”

Lucifer returned the smile, the words flowing from his lips with a sincerity that he couldn’t hold back. “I love you too.”

They both turned toward the Hazbin Hotel’s grand doors, Adam stepping forward, ready to knock when, to Lucifer’s surprise, the door swung open before he had the chance.

Lucifer froze, his heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t breathe for a moment as he saw her—Charlie, their daughter—standing in the doorway. This world’s version of her, and yet, she was still so familiar. Her eyes glowed warmly, her lips forming a bright, loving grin that was a perfect reflection of Adam’s.

"Mum! You’re here?" Charlie’s voice was filled with excitement, her expression a mixture of joy and disbelief. "I was going to pick you up!"

Adam let out a sheepish laugh, his cheeks colouring as he scratched the back of his neck. "I know, but we thought we’d surprise you, so... surprise!"

Charlie’s eyes flickered between Adam and Lucifer, her smile faltering for a brief moment as she glanced at her father.

“Dad?!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with shock. “You’re here too? But I thought you had too much work to do?”

Her gaze softened almost immediately, a hint of confusion and curiosity in her eyes as she took in the sight of Lucifer standing there.

Lucifer stood frozen, the weight of the moment settling in. His heart was pounding in his chest as he looked at Charlie—his daughter, this world’s version of her. She was so much like Adam, and yet... so uniquely her own person. The recognition in her eyes, the warmth of her grin, it all hit him like a wave. He could feel a lump in his throat, the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He had been absent for so long, for too long, and now—now here he was, finally seeing her.

“Surprised?” Lucifer’s voice was thick, but he fought to keep the emotion from his tone.

He stepped forward, his hand still holding Adam’s, but his gaze focused entirely on Charlie now. His heart was still racing, but in a different way. The bond between father and daughter, though new and strange, felt instant and powerful.

Charlie’s eyes softened as she stepped forward, reaching out to Adam first with an affectionate hug, then turning to her father, her gaze still filled with wonder and warmth.

"I didn’t expect you to come here. I thought... well, I thought you'd be too busy with your work," she said, her voice quiet now as she stood before him.

Lucifer, still processing the sight of his daughter standing there, felt something shift inside him. The rawness of the moment was almost too much. His lips parted as he tried to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, his voice low but filled with honesty. “I’ve been... preoccupied with other things, but that’s no excuse.”

He took a step forward, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder, an instinctual act of closeness. "I’m here now. I won’t miss any more of these moments. I promise."

Charlie blinked, her eyes glistening as she looked up at him, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"You’re here now, and that’s all that matters." Her voice was soft, full of understanding. "I’m glad you’re here, Dad."

The words hit Lucifer like a wave, and he nodded, his heart swelling with a bittersweet mix of relief and joy. He stood taller, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. Adam, standing beside him, smiled as he gazed at the two of them, his heart swelling with pride.

Charlie gracefully stepped back, a radiant smile lighting up her face as she gestured for both Lucifer and Adam to enter.

"I'm so excited for you two to be here!" she said brightly, her voice warm and welcoming. The way she spoke, the energy in her tone, was so familiar, yet there was something undeniably different about her.

Lucifer trailed behind Adam, his eyes quietly studying Charlie as she hooked her arm with Adam's without hesitation. He couldn’t help but notice how she held herself, her aura confident and poised. There was a calm authority in her presence, but also a softness, a gentleness, that made her her. And yet, the longer he watched her, the more he realized that Charlie—his daughter—wasn't exactly the same as the one he had known.

Charlie, much like everything else in this dimension, was different. She was familiar, but yet unfamiliar. She was still Charlie—his Charlie—but not exactly his Charlie. The subtle differences were apparent the moment he took in her appearance.

She still had the same tall, slim build, her pale white skin the signature of a hellborn demon. Her hair, now a soft hazelnut hue, cascaded to her ankles in smooth waves, with thin streaks of light coral blending into paler brown highlights. It was tied in a low ponytail with two black bands, the strands framing her face in soft curls, and her bangs flipped to the left side with a gentle curve. Lucifer couldn't help but notice how her eyes—those yellow sclera with their crimson red pupils—held a certain calmness that was both endearing and powerful. The thick lashes and purple eyelids were familiar, yet her overall expression was more serene, less volatile than the Charlie he remembered.

The most startling detail came when Lucifer noticed the black animal-like nose she shared with Adam. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over him. Did Adam’s nose come from here? he wondered, studying Charlie’s features. Her blue-toed hooves, the fangs that peeked from her mouth, the pointed black nails—these were still her traits, of course. But there was an air about her now that felt different. Less chaotic, more controlled.

And then, there was what she wore. Unlike the Charlie he knew from his world, this Charlie's clothing reflected her new sense of authority, a professional edge that matched the maturity Lucifer had seen in the garden. Like him, she wore a black tuxedo-style jacket with dark blue lapels, the jacket unbuttoned in a laid-back yet still polished way.

On the left side of her chest, a small white tag caught the light, perhaps a mark of distinction, or just an aesthetic touch. Underneath, a blue waistcoat added depth to the outfit, paired with a crisp white dress shirt. She didn’t wear the small, cute bowtie he remembered, but rather a sleek, black tie that complemented the overall professional vibe. Her dress pants were black, with a thin blue stripe running up the sides, making the outfit even more striking.

Lucifer noticed the blue cuffs at the sleeves of her blazer, the elegant and understated details that elevated her look. And on her feet were white saddle shoes, the toes and heel tips black, a blend of practicality and style that still somehow managed to look refined.

Charlie was adorable, undeniably beautiful, and her appearance exuded a subtle air of authority. She had clearly grown into herself in this dimension, a far cry from the more innocent, chaotic version he had known. The change was striking, but not in a way that made her unrecognizable. It made her seem more... complete. And Lucifer found himself wondering if this Charlie, this version of his daughter, was different in ways that went beyond her appearance.

He glanced at Adam, who had a proud smile on his face as he walked beside Charlie. The warmth in Adam’s eyes as he looked at her was a silent affirmation that this was their reality. Their life together in this dimension.

"Wow," Lucifer muttered, mostly to himself, his voice soft but filled with awe. "Charlie, you’ve done amazing things here."

Charlie turned back to him with a radiant grin.

"Thank you, Dad," she said, her voice laced with affection. "It means so much that you’re here now."

Lucifer's heart swelled at the sound of her words. Dad. That one simple word carried so much weight, so much unspoken emotion. And yet, in this dimension, he felt like he could finally begin to understand the bond he had with her—this other version of Charlie, and the new dynamic that came with it.

He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the surroundings one more time, before he reached out, gently taking Charlie's arm in a gesture of solidarity, of acknowledgment.

"This place... it feels like home," Lucifer murmured softly, looking at Adam and then back to Charlie. "And I’m proud of you, both of you."

Charlie smiled warmly at him, her expression filled with a mixture of gratitude and love. “I’m just happy you’re here, Dad.”

As they moved further into the hotel, the atmosphere felt different than it had in Lucifer’s own dimension. The walls were warm and inviting, bathed in soft, golden lighting. Everything felt purposeful, yet cozy.

Charlie had built this place with love, and it radiated in the air. Lucifer could feel it in every corner, in the very atmosphere of the hotel. The gardens outside, the thoughtful decor inside—it was all a reflection of the life Adam and Charlie had created here.

And for the first time in a long time, Lucifer felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. Not just in this dimension, but with them—his family. And as they walked deeper into the hotel, together, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the past slip away, replaced by something far more powerful. Love.

Charlie beamed with excitement as she led them through the hotel, her energy barely contained despite the professional edge she maintained.

"I’m so glad you're here, both of you! Welcome to my home." Her tone was warm, yet there was a confidence to her voice that spoke of pride and purpose.

Lucifer couldn't help but notice the stark difference in this version of the Hazbin Hotel. It didn’t have the chaotic, disjointed feel of the one in his own dimension. This place, every room and hallway, had been thoughtfully curated. There was no mishmash of clashing styles, no broken elements haphazardly thrown together. Every inch of the hotel exuded an air of professionalism, yet there was an undeniable charm—a mysterious, cozy allure that made it feel inviting.

As they walked through the expansive lobby, Lucifer’s eyes were drawn to the rich blues and purples that washed the space. The walls, though adorned with intricate patterns, were sleek and polished. The floor was a soft, plush carpet in deep violet, and the polished beams above gave the room an open, airy feeling. Everywhere he looked, there was a sense of refinement—nothing felt out of place.

The lounge area was especially striking, the colour scheme of the room not just sophisticated but soothing. Soft blue lighting emanated from lanterns that floated lazily in the air, their gentle glow reflecting off the smooth surfaces around them. The furniture was modern yet comfortable, plush seating in varying shades of blue and purple, arranged in intimate clusters. And though it had the atmosphere of a well-designed space, it wasn’t sterile or cold. It was the kind of place one could relax in and feel at home, even in Hell.

Charlie led them further through the hotel, pausing here and there to speak about the different rooms they passed. Lucifer noticed the subtle contrast in each area—some had elegant glass floors that shimmered as they walked, others had warm wooden panels that gave the space a grounded, natural feel. There was an elevator, sleek and shiny, with silver accents, its design futuristic yet fitting for the mysterious hotel they were walking through.

"Each room is carefully crafted to give a different experience," Charlie explained, her professional tone almost as though she were giving a tour to an important guest.

"Nothing is by accident. Every detail matters." She waved her hand around the lobby as if it were an extension of herself. "I wanted it to feel like a home, but one that had purpose."

Lucifer smiled and nodded, thoroughly impressed. “It’s beautiful, Charlie. Truly. You’ve outdone yourself.”

As they moved through the halls, Lucifer couldn't help but glance around at everything with admiration. Unlike the chaotic atmosphere of his own Hazbin Hotel, this one felt complete. There was no unfinished business, no rushed repairs. This was a space meant to be lived in, built with care and attention to detail.

They passed a room that caught Lucifer's attention—a bar, but one that was more sophisticated than the lounge's former setup. This bar had its own dedicated space, separate from the main area, and it seemed to belong there in a way that made the old bar look almost makeshift.

“Here’s the bar,” Charlie continued, ushering them inside. “It has its own space now, so it’s less disruptive. It’s a bit more... refined.”

Her smile was almost mischievous. “You’ll have to try it later.”

Lucifer, taking it all in, gave her a genuine smile. “I think I’d enjoy that.”

It was strange to feel this way about the hotel. He remembered the first time he’d seen his own version of the Hazbin Hotel—the moment he had tried to tear it down in front of Charlie. This place, however, felt different. It felt right. And it made him realize just how much his other self had neglected to appreciate.

As they wandered deeper into the hotel, Charlie suddenly stopped and turned to them.

 "Oh! Before we go any further, I want you to meet someone," she said, her tone suddenly more cheerful than professional.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. Just then, a figure emerged from one of the rooms—another familiar face, but not one he had expected to see. A woman, her wings folded behind her, eyes glowing with a calm, yet intense light. She had striking greyish-lavender skin, her features sharp, yet undeniably graceful.

"Dad, this is Vaggie," Charlie said, her voice full of pride. "My girlfriend."

For a split second, Lucifer nearly blurted out that he already knew Vaggie, that she had been introduced to him before. But then it hit him—this was the first time he was meeting her. This was the first time he or his other self had stepped foot into this version of the Hazbin Hotel, and everything—everyone—was different.

Vaggie stood before them, a striking figure who, though familiar, exuded an aura of both elegance and strength. Her greyish-lavender skin shimmered slightly in the ambient light, a subtle moth-themed design tracing the outline of her features. Her knee-length hair cascaded down in soft waves of greyish-white, the faded purple tips gently curling as they met the air. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail with a blue ribbon, the strands flowing smoothly, save for the long-jagged bangs that framed the left side of her face, hiding part of her features in an almost mysterious way.

Lucifer's gaze naturally fell to her eyes, noting the contrast between the two. Her right eye had a soft pink sclera with a warm ivory iris, shimmering with a calm intensity, while her left eye was hidden beneath a slate-gray eyepatch, marked with a red-pink “X” shape that gave her an air of quiet mystery. The small fangs visible when she spoke only added to the fierce beauty that radiated from her, her black lips adding a touch of sharpness to her otherwise delicate features.

Her clothing was another detail that set this version of Vaggie apart. She wore a pale blue short-sleeved blouse that hugged her slim frame, a stark contrast to the deep blacks of her wardrobe. Over this, she wore a black waistcoat, cinched just enough to accentuate her slender figure, the edges of the waistcoat cut precisely. A delicate black ribbon, tied into a bow, sat at the back of her neck, adding a soft femininity to her otherwise sharp appearance.

Her lower half was adorned in a black miniskirt, paired with light criss-crossing black and blue tights, and she wore a set of fingerless opera gloves that were a perfect match for the colour scheme—light blue, matching the subtle undertones in her outfit. She moved with a fluid grace, the design of her clothing blending both professionalism and a sense of personal style, making her look every bit the powerful figure she was.

Lucifer’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, the realization dawning that this version of Vaggie, like everything else in this dimension, was both familiar and new. The Vaggie he knew had always been strong, but this one seemed more at ease, more confident in herself, her presence commanding respect while still maintaining that same soft edge that made her undeniably approachable. The changes in her appearance and attire hinted at a life that had evolved—one that had brought her to a place of balance and power.

Vaggie’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, soft yet respectful.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” she said, bowing her head slightly, her posture formal yet not stiff.

Lucifer, surprised by the respect she was showing him, cleared his throat. Her formality, unlike the more casual tone he was used to from his world’s Vaggie, left him feeling both honoured and unsure of how to respond.

Lucifer froze for a moment, unsure of how to react. The respect she showed him felt... foreign, but not unpleasant. It was clear that in this dimension, the dynamics were different. The Vaggie from his world had never treated him with the kind of reverence she showed him now, and it left him feeling oddly flustered.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to seem too awkward.

"It’s nice to meet you, Maggie," he said automatically, before he could stop himself.

At the sound of his slip, all three of them spoke at once, correcting him.

"It’s Vaggie," they said in unison, a mix of bemusement and mild amusement in their voices.

Lucifer blinked, slightly flustered. "Oh... right, sorry about that, um, Vaggie," he said sheepishly, looking around at the others.

Vaggie smiled, though there was a slight flush to her cheeks as she shook her head. “It’s okay, sir.”

Lucifer, still not entirely sure of what to make of the situation, leaned forward, offering a gentle smile. “You don’t need to be so formal around me. Please, relax.”

Vaggie looked surprised by his words, her eyes flickering with a brief moment of doubt.

“R-Really?” she asked hesitantly.

Lucifer gave her a reassuring nod, smiling warmly. “Yes, of course. We’re practically family now.”

His words were genuine, and as he said them, he realized that this dimension felt like a place where he could finally relax, where he could find his place among the people who mattered most to him.

Charlie smiled shyly at her girlfriend, clearly pleased by Lucifer’s words. Vaggie hesitated for a moment, but then she let out a small, relieved laugh, her shoulders relaxing.

“Okay, sir—um, Lucifer,” she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you."

Charlie’s eyes flickered nervously toward Adam, her gaze pleading for reassurance, while Vaggie quietly inched closer to her, sensing the tension in the air. Adam inhaled deeply, his breath steady and composed, before he nodded in silent understanding. He took a step forward, his voice low and soothing, like a melody meant to calm the storm inside Lucifer’s soul.

"Luci," Adam began, the name almost like a caress, gentle but laden with unspoken weight. "There's one more thing... you should know."

Lucifer’s brow furrowed, his senses sharpening as he caught the subtle tension in the room. He tilted his head, curious, yet guarded, the shift in atmosphere not lost on him. He flicked his gaze over the group, noting the strange expressions, the silent communication between Charlie and Vaggie.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice dripping with both suspicion and anticipation.

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a look—an unreadable one—before Charlie turned back to Adam, her expression a fragile blend of hope and worry. Adam smiled softly, his fingers gently brushing against Lucifer's hand.

Lucifer stiffened at the contact, his gaze snapping to Adam in confusion, but Adam didn’t break eye contact.

"About Vaggie," he began, his voice turning serious, his words deliberate. "There’s just one more thing you need to know. And you have to promise me, Luci, you won’t... freak out. Don’t get all dramatic, or start trying to pull some ‘authority’ nonsense like you usually do."

"Drama?" Lucifer arched a brow in mock surprise. "Authority? Me?"

His lips curled into a playful smirk, though the flicker of curiosity in his eyes betrayed his amusement. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Adam’s gaze never wavered. "Promise me."

Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes before he nodded. "Alright, alright. Whatever it is, I won’t see any of you differently."

But a flicker of unease crossed his face, his gaze shifting toward Vaggie, who remained unreadable, her eyes dark with unspoken thoughts.

"Is it about Vaggie being a fallen angel?" he asked nonchalantly, though a trace of knowing lingered in his voice.

Charlie gasped, her eyes wide in shock. "You—how do you know that?"

Her voice cracked slightly, as though the very mention of it was a secret she’d thought buried long ago.

Lucifer blinked, realization striking him like a bolt of lightning. He hadn't meant to reveal so much, so easily. But then again, he'd always had an uncanny ability to see through the veils others wore. He smiled, a lazy, knowing grin spreading across his face.

"It’s not rocket science," he said with a shrug. "I mean, I’ve always been able to spot another angel. Or rather, a fallen angel."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I’m a Seraphim—one of the highest-ranking angels there are. I can pinpoint another angel, halo or no halo, wings or no wings."

Charlie exhaled sharply, as though the breath had been held for far too long. She leaned heavily into Vaggie, who, despite her usual stoic demeanour, looked visibly shaken by the revelation.

Lucifer’s smile softened, a glimmer of affection for his daughter, and he added with a playful wink, "But hey, I don’t care if you’re a fallen angel, Vaggie. As long as my daughter’s happy, that’s all that matters to me."

Charlie’s face lit up with relief, the tension easing from her shoulders. It was as though the weight of the world had lifted off her chest. The fear she’d carried was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Lucifer’s gaze drifted, suddenly thoughtful. He didn’t quite understand the dynamic between Adam, Charlie, and Vaggie, but something tugged at the corners of his mind. Was the other version of him—the original Lucifer—so cold-hearted that he would disapprove of such things? Perhaps it was his prejudice against fallen angels that had kept him distant, or maybe there was more to the story. He shifted his attention back to Vaggie, his curiosity piqued.

"I also know you were... or maybe still are, an exorcist," Lucifer said, his finger lightly pointing at the faint X mark near Vaggie’s eye, a mark that carried the history of bloodshed and exorcisms. "Judging by the symbol on your face, I’d say I’m right."

Vaggie stiffened, her breath catching in her throat.

"And... you’re... okay with that?" she asked, her voice small, almost uncertain.

Lucifer’s shrug was nonchalant, but his eyes were warm with understanding. "Sure, I’m fine with it. I mean, Charlie’s forgiven you, so I’m not going to hold it against you. You were doing what you thought was right at the time. Who am I to judge?"

The relief that washed over Vaggie was palpable. She let out a long, deep breath, as though something had broken loose inside her chest. Her posture relaxed, and she bowed her head in silent gratitude, though her eyes still held traces of vulnerability.

Lucifer glanced over at Adam, seeking some sort of confirmation, a silent approval. Adam’s gaze met his with an expression so full of love and warmth that Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat. There was a soft affection in Adam’s eyes, a tenderness that Lucifer couldn’t help but return.

The world around them seemed to fade for a moment. For once, Lucifer felt... seen. Not as the devil or a fallen angel, but as someone who was wanted, cherished, and understood.

Adam’s lips curved into a smile, full of affection, and Lucifer’s own lips followed suit, the two of them locked in a moment of unspoken connection. The air between them buzzed with something more, something deeper than simple affection—a bond that only they understood.

Despite the sudden sense of calm that had settled over Charlie and Vaggie, Lucifer couldn’t shake the feeling that something still hung heavily in the air. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—an undercurrent of tension that clung to the room like a shroud. They were both standing straighter than usual, their movements deliberate, cautious even.

Charlie, usually so warm and open, seemed almost unnaturally poised, her fingers fiddling with the edges of her coat. Vaggie, normally fierce and unapologetic, kept her distance, her posture rigid, her eyes darting as though expecting something to happen at any moment. It was as if they were walking on eggshells, careful not to disturb the fragile balance that had settled between them.

Lucifer’s brow furrowed, and he cast a quick, uneasy glance at Adam, searching for some sign that he wasn’t the only one sensing the oddness in the air. Adam smiled at him, that same soft, reassuring smile that always made Lucifer’s chest tighten. But even as Adam’s expression seemed filled with warmth, Lucifer couldn’t shake the nagging sense of discomfort that lingered at the edges of his thoughts.

It was like he had stumbled into someone else’s life—a life that didn’t quite fit. Was it because of him? Or was it because of the other Lucifer? The one who had ruled this place with an iron fist, the one whose presence seemed to overshadow everything in the room, even now. He knew, without a doubt, that the Lucifer of this universe was far different from the one he had once been. The king of Hell—the devil—had been more domineering, more authoritative. This version, however, was... different. Gentler, softer in a way that almost unsettled him.

"Um..." Lucifer started, his voice suddenly awkward, uncertain. He glanced over at Adam again, his gaze asking silently if he, too, could feel the strange distance that had fallen between them. Adam simply gave him a warm smile, though there was a flicker of something else—an emotion Lucifer couldn’t quite place.

Before he could ask any more questions, as if the universe itself had decided to throw a wrench into the awkwardness of the moment, a shadow slid across the far wall, its movement liquid, serpentine. Lucifer's gaze snapped to it instantly, and he braced himself. The air shifted, charged with a dark energy. The ground beneath them seemed to hum with an unsettling force as the shadow grew, curling around the edges of the room before it solidified into a form. And there, standing in front of them, was Alastor.

The Radio Demon.

Lucifer’s stomach sank as the familiar figure appeared. Alastor’s wide grin split his face in a grotesque way, his red eyes glowing with a malevolent gleam. His presence was unmistakable—sharp, unsettling, and somehow mocking.

"Ah, you must be the one I've heard so much about," Alastor said with a voice that sounded like it had been pulled from a thousand static broadcasts, smooth and cold. "Finally decided to grace us with your presence, hm?"

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and despite the unsettling familiarity of Alastor’s voice, he stood tall, uncrossing his arms just long enough to give a pointed look at the radio demon.

"And who might you be?" Lucifer asked, his tone smooth but laced with a cold amusement. He crossed his arms once more, offering Alastor a tight-lipped grin and showing just enough of his sharp teeth to let the demon know he wasn’t intimidated.

Alastor’s eyes gleamed with territorial malice. There was a possessiveness in the air, a strange, almost desperate need for dominance over the hotel that radiated off him. Lucifer picked up on it instantly, though he would never show it. This was his domain now, not some other version of him self’s.

With an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Lucifer smirked. "Well, it seems that my arrival has been long-awaited. What is it? Some kind of bellhop?"

Charlie’s laugh was awkward, a little too high-pitched. Her discomfort was palpable, but she tried, gently, to diffuse the situation.

"Alastor, please be nice," she murmured quietly, though her voice quivered slightly.

"Haha!" Alastor let out a harsh, mocking laugh, his grin spreading even further as if he were enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

 "Not quite! I am the esteemed host of this fine establishment. Perhaps you’ve heard of me through my radio broadcasts?" He leaned forward slightly, his smugness clear.

Lucifer’s response was immediate and cutting. He couldn’t resist the urge to taunt.

"Oh, that explains why Charlie named it the 'Hazbin Hotel,' doesn’t it?" Lucifer quipped, giving a sharp, biting laugh. "Ha-ha!"

Alastor’s expression faltered for the briefest of moments before it returned to that ever-present, mocking grin. His stance shifted, his glowing eyes narrowing as he leaned casually against his radio staff, his fingers tapping rhythmically.

"Fuck you," he spat with venom, his voice dripping with disdain.

Charlie flinched at the exchange, looking between the two of them in sheer panic.

"Mummmmm, please,” she whined, her hands shaking as she pulled at her coat nervously. Charlie glanced towards Adam, “They’re gonna destroy my hotel!"

 Vaggie, ever the protector, stepped forward and rubbed her back gently, trying to soothe her in the face of the growing hostility.

Adam, ever the optimist, tried to reassure her with a sheepish smile. "No, they won’t—"

Before he could finish, a loud explosion interrupted his words. The wall to the left of them shuddered violently as a massive hole tore through it, the debris falling like confetti around them. The sound of the blast echoed through the room, the force of it shaking the very foundation of the hotel.

Lucifer blinked, holding up his claws defensively.

"I didn’t do it!" he called out quickly, his voice tinged with mock innocence. "It was... what did you say your name was again? Bami?"

He tilted his head with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

Alastor’s face scrunched up in outrage at the name, his eyes narrowing into slits. He looked ready to pounce, his grin faltering for the briefest moment.

Charlie, meanwhile, stood frozen, her expression one of absolute horror, her body trembling as she looked desperately at Adam, as if seeking a solution to the escalating chaos.

"Please, someone stop this," she pleaded.

But Lucifer couldn’t help but smile. Whatever strange tension had plagued him earlier, whatever sense of unease had clung to the air—he could feel it lifting. If only for a moment, he was ready to embrace this new world, this new challenge.

Adam was still reeling from the explosion in the wall, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process the tension in the room. His hands were shaking slightly, and his mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening between Lucifer and Alastor. He had never seen his husband act so territorial, so... possessive.

He had always known Lucifer to be authoritative, yes. But this? This was something different. Adam had never seen his partner act like this—furious, defensive, and so willing to go to war over something as seemingly trivial as an interaction with another demon. Then again, Lucifer had always been confined to his office, buried in his duties, ruling Hell with cold detachment. Maybe he’d never had a reason to show this side of himself. Maybe he had always been like this, and Adam had simply never seen it.

It made Adam’s chest tighten, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but admire how fiercely Lucifer was acting. He stepped forward, hoping to de-escalate the situation before it became something far worse than it already was.

"Um, Lucifer, Alastor, I think that’s—" Adam started, but his voice was immediately drowned out by Alastor, who was already stepping forward, a mischievous glint in his glowing red eyes.

“Well, well, well,” Alastor purred smoothly, his voice like honey dripping from his tongue, “Adam. It’s such a pleasure to see you again.”

His eyes glittered as he eyed Adam, and before Lucifer could react, Alastor smoothly glided toward him, his movements so graceful, it was almost like a dance. Adam found himself momentarily caught off guard by the way Alastor's charm oozed from every word and gesture.

“How are you, my dear? How is the little one? I trust you’ve been taking care of yourself?” Alastor continued, his words soft, almost flirty.

He leaned in just enough to be close, his gaze searching Adam's face as if he could read his every thought. “You look tired, darling. Surely Lucifer hasn't been working you to the bone? Surely, you haven't been on your feet all day?”

Adam was flustered, unsure how to respond. The gentle warmth in Alastor's voice was completely different from the way he normally spoke to him. Alastor was never rude, mean or cold towards him, but he was never���like this. It was unsettling.

“Oh, I—uh, I’m fine,” Adam stammered, his face flushing as he stepped back a little, caught in the radio demon's spell. "Lucifer, I—"

But before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off by Alastor’s cool, calculated gaze. The demon casually sent a glance toward Lucifer, his eyes gleaming with challenge.

“Tell me, Adam," Alastor continued, his voice silky as ever, "Has your beloved husband been taking care of you properly? I do hope he's been looking after your health, dear. It wouldn't do for you to be too worn out, after all."

Alastor's eyes flicked back to Lucifer, the unspoken taunt hanging heavily in the air.

Adam’s face flushed a deeper shade of red, unsure of how to respond. His eyes darted nervously to Lucifer, who was standing stone-still, but the tension was strong.

Lucifer's eyes widened, his pupils dilating as his gaze locked on Alastor’s every movement. He felt a sudden surge of something that made his stomach churn—not jealousy... maybe it was more like outrage. He didn’t even realize when he moved—only that in the next instant, he was wedging himself between Adam and Alastor, his body pressed forward in a clear, protective gesture.

“No, no, no, you don’t do that,” Lucifer hissed, his voice strained and sharp as he glared up at Alastor, his chest puffed out with indignation. “You don’t touch my Adam! And not that it is any of your business, I always take care of my Adam!”

Alastor’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. There it was—the crack he’d been waiting for. His lips curled into a wider, even more taunting grin.

“Oh? Is that so?” Alastor’s voice was rich with mocking amusement.

He stepped forward again, easily sidestepping Lucifer, his shoulder bumping Lucifer’s chest as though the fallen angel were nothing more than a slight inconvenience. Alastor closed the distance between himself and Adam once more, completely undeterred, his hand reaching out as though to gently touch Adam’s arm.

Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat, the vein in his neck pulsing with frustration and fury. He could feel his own irritation bubbling to the surface. The more Alastor pushed him aside, the more his chest tightened in some deep, primal way.

“Oi! I said don’t touch him!” he growled, “Don’t talk to him so personally either!”

Charlie and Vaggie stood by the sidelines, watching with wide eyes. Vaggie looked at Charlie, her gaze full of confusion as she leaned in closer to her.

“I thought you said your dad was pretty cold and... cares too much about his image?” she whispered, her tone soft and unsure. “Like…married to his job first, then your Mum and then you?”

Charlie awkwardly scratched the back of her neck, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. “Um, he is—or was, or... I don't really know. I’ve never seen him act like this before.”

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the scene unfolding in front of her. “Well, he’s certainly not holding back now.”

Meanwhile, Lucifer’s chest heaved with each angry breath, his body trembling as Alastor’s fingers brushed Adam’s shoulder. Every movement of the radio demon’s was like a calculated strike at his pride, and Lucifer’s jealousy burned hot and fierce. It was strange—unfamiliar. He had never felt this intense need to claim someone before, let alone in front of others. He was a king, a ruler of Hell... wasn’t he supposed to be above such things?

But Alastor's smirk, that gleaming, dangerous look in his eyes... it was a provocation, and Lucifer could feel the bite of it in every part of him. He clenched his fists at his sides, his wings twitching in agitation, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not yet.

Alastor had found his weakness. And Lucifer wasn’t sure if he hated it... or if he wanted to fight back. It was the same thing Alastor did back in his dimension with Charlie! Being another father figure for Charlie just to mock him!

Vaggie gasped, her eyes darting toward Adam, then nudging Charlie with urgency.

"Charlie," she whispered in alarm, "I think your mum's getting overwhelmed!"

Charlie whipped her head around to look at Adam, who was now shuffling his feet, visibly caught between the escalating tension of his husband and Alastor. The two demons continued to exchange mocking, pointed remarks, and Adam’s patience finally wore thin. Swallowing deeply, he placed a gentle but firm hand on Alastor’s chest, trying to ease him back.

“Um, that’s enough,” Adam said, his voice steady but weary. “Alastor, you've never shown that much interest in me before. You’re just doing this to mess with Lucifer, aren’t you?”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at Adam’s insight, a feeling of vindication washing over him. Finally! Somebody else saw Alastor’s shameless attempts at baiting him.

But Alastor’s face twisted into a theatrically pained expression, placing a hand on his chest as though wounded.

“Mess with Lucifer?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Why, Adam, you wound me! My interest in you is sincere. Your charm is as radiant as the sun—any demon worth his salt would see that.”

His voice softened, gaze meeting Adam’s in a way that bordered on tenderness. “After all, Hell’s a cold place. It could use a touch of warmth.”

Lucifer’s expression shifted, his face twisting with irritation. He’d had enough of Alastor’s sweet-talking. Stepping forward, he jabbed a finger toward the radio demon, his eyes narrowing with anger.

“Back off, Alastor. Adam doesn’t need any of your slimy charm,” he growled, his tone dark and dangerous.

“Oh?” Alastor replied, his voice dripping with faux innocence as he met Lucifer’s fury with an amused glint.

“Is that... jealousy I hear? From the oh-so-calm and collected Lucifer Morningstar?” He smirked, clearly revelling in the way he was getting under Lucifer’s skin.

Adam, exasperated, stepped between the two, his face flushed with frustration. “Can’t we just—”

But he stopped short as a sharp, sudden pain shot through him. His face twisted in discomfort, and his hand instinctively flew to his stomach as he stumbled back, grimacing.

Charlie gasped and immediately rushed to his side, her eyes wide with concern.

“Mum, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

Vaggie moved to help, wrapping an arm around Adam and gently guiding him over to one of the plush, blue leather sofas.

“You really should rest, Mum,” Vaggie said softly, her hand a steadying presence on Adam’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t be overworking yourself like this.”

Adam managed a weak smile, trying to reassure them. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

But he winced as another pain rippled through him, sharper this time, and he clenched his jaw to stifle a groan.

Charlie’s worry deepened. “Mum, are you in pain? What’s wrong?”

Adam let out a small chuckle, though his voice was strained. “It’s just... Braxton Hicks…”

“Fake contractions. They happen when…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced away, his cheeks colouring.

“When?” Vaggie prompted gently.

Adam sighed, looking sheepish. “When I’m stressed or overwhelmed.”

Charlie’s face hardened, her expression sharpening as her eyes darted to the scene unfolding behind her. Another loud crash sounded as Lucifer and Alastor clashed once more, their voices raised and their power radiating dangerously through the air. Keekee, their little demon pet, scrambled up the sofa to sit beside Adam, nudging him protectively.

Straightening herself, Charlie took a deep breath, feeling a new surge of authority bubble within her. She squared her shoulders, her demonic ruby and golden eyes flashing as they started to bleed into a deep red. Her hair began to slip free of its ribbons and swirled around her face like snakes, horns sprouting from the top of her head as she turned on her heels to face the two unruly demons.

“That’s enough!” she roared, her voice echoing through the hotel lobby like a thunderclap.

Her face was fierce, a new, formidable power radiating from her as she stomped toward the two demons. She grabbed Alastor’s tie, yanking him down to her level, and then tugged Lucifer’s collar, pulling him upward.

“Listen up, you two,” Charlie snarled, her voice dark and dripping with authority. “You are not fighting in my fucking hotel!”

Her grip tightened, and she yanked them both closer, her fiery eyes narrowing with dangerous intensity. “And I want that hole in my wall fixed—right fucking now! Do you understand me?”

Both Alastor and Lucifer nodded quickly, unable to form words as they stared at her with a mixture of surprise and begrudging respect. Charlie’s sharp teeth gleamed as she bared them in warning.

“And I swear to Satan,” she continued, her voice a low, dangerous growl, “If I catch you two having another pissing contest, I will personally cut off your dick and balls!”

Lucifer straightened himself as Charlie released him, smoothing his slick black suit and adjusting his tie, casting a dry look in Alastor’s direction. Alastor mirrored him, straightening his own attire with a sardonic grin as though they hadn’t just been thoroughly scolded by Hell’s princess.

Then, a shadowy tendril slipped up from the ground beside Alastor, creeping over to the wall to begin repairing the hole. Lucifer watched with amusement as Alastor’s magic inched over the crack, dark energy spilling and swirling as the wall slowly started to mend. Lucifer waited until Alastor’s magic spread across the damage, then raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Golden light washed over the wall, instantly erasing the crack as if it had never been there.

Alastor shot Lucifer a scathing look, his form dissolving momentarily into shadow before reappearing a few steps away. Lucifer smirked, basking in his small victory.

As he turned, his gaze landed on Charlie, who stood with arms crossed, glaring at the two of them. A faint flush crept up Lucifer’s cheeks. Seeing Charlie take charge with such authority—she truly was the princess of Hell. She had grown so much; her confidence radiated from her in a way that made him proud. She was still the same Charlie, his Charlie, yet stronger.

But then, his gaze drifted to Adam, seated on the couch nearby with Vaggie crouched beside him. Adam rubbed his stomach, a bit flushed as he tried to reassure Vaggie. Instantly, Lucifer’s face paled, and he teleported in a blink of golden light to Adam’s side, grabbing his hands.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Lucifer’s words tumbled out, concern and fear flashing in his eyes. "Do you need to lie down? Anything you need, I’ll make it happen."

Adam gave a small, sheepish smile. "I’m fine, really. Just… fake contractions."

He paused, glancing at Vaggie and Charlie, who were watching him closely. Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a hush, meant only for Lucifer. "It’s not like the first time… honestly.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. He didn’t fully understand what that meant, but he nodded, his voice dropping to match Adam’s. "Okay, okay... as long as you’re alright. You’re not still in pain, right?"

Adam squeezed Lucifer’s hand. "No, no, it’s passed. They come and go. I’ve been having them for the past month now."

He gave a wry smile, one that hinted at something he hadn’t shared before.

Lucifer’s breath hitched, his gaze hardening with quiet anger. Had Adam been keeping this from him? Had the other Lucifer been so closed off that Adam didn’t feel comfortable telling him about something as important as this?

The thought darkened his expression. “You should have told me, Addie. I wish you’d told me.”

Adam shrugged helplessly, a faint guilt in his eyes. "You were busy, that’s all. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

A pang hit Lucifer, but he softened his tone, reaching up to brush a hand against Adam’s cheek. “I’m never too busy for you.”

His voice was laced with sincerity, and Adam flushed, clearly taken aback. From behind, they heard two soft “Aww”s, and both Lucifer and Adam turned to see Charlie and Vaggie watching, grinning at the display of affection.

Adam cleared his throat, breaking the moment with a bashful smile. "I… think I might need to lie down now. Today has been a bit too… fun for me.”

Charlie stepped forward, her face lighting up with excitement. “Do you want to go to your room, Mum? Niffty’s been keeping it spotless.”

She took his other hand, her smile warm and full of affection.

Adam leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Lucifer puffed out his chest, straightening himself again as though preparing for duty.

“I’ll go with you,” he announced, ready to accompany him and keep an eye on him.

Adam shook his head, giving him a patient smile. “No, you should stay and spend some time with Charlie. You two haven’t had any father-daughter time in so long.”

He gave Lucifer’s hand a final squeeze, and Lucifer hesitated, glancing over at Charlie, who was suddenly looking bashfully off to the side, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. Vaggie offered an encouraging smile in Charlie’s direction.

Lucifer’s desire to stay with Adam nearly overwhelmed him, but seeing the hopeful expression on Charlie’s face, he softened. Of course, he wanted to spend time with her. Breathing out a resigned sigh, he nodded, eyes warm.

“Alright. But if anything happens—if you even feel a slight discomfort—you’ll let me know, okay?”

Adam beamed up at him, squeezing his hand once more. “Of course. I promise.”

With one last lingering glance, Lucifer finally pulled away, watching as Adam allowed himself to be guided toward the stairs by Vaggie. Then he turned to Charlie, his gaze settling on her with a softer, prouder look.

“So… what do you want to do, Princess?” he asked, offering his arm to her.

Charlie’s eyes sparkled, and she took his arm eagerly.

"Well, I think we have a very overdue talk to be had,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And maybe we can keep the pissing contests to a minimum this time?”

Lucifer chuckled, pulling her close. “For you, Charlie, I’ll do my best.”

Lucifer walked beside Charlie, making a concerted effort to ask about her life in small, thoughtful ways, slipping questions into their conversation that gave him glimpses of this version of his daughter’s world. Her responses were heartfelt and animated, and as he listened, he found himself both charmed and unsettled. This version of himself… was less engaged, distant. He kept learning small things that he should’ve known—a favourite haunt, an idea she’d shared with him once, years ago. And yet, Charlie didn’t seem to notice his inquiries. She was simply thrilled to be by his side, and it made his chest ache with pride and regret.

They soon reached a quiet hallway lined with twenty magnificent, golden-framed oil paintings, each with astonishing detail and care. Lucifer stopped, his eyes widening as he took them in. Each portrait depicted a sinner, but instead of twisted cruelty or anguish, there was a strange serenity, a quiet pride on their faces. The glow in the portraits was almost holy.

Charlie watched him anxiously, her hands clasped nervously. “These… these are my redeemed souls.”

He snapped his head around to look at her, shock plain on his face. “You really did it?” His voice was barely a whisper. “You redeemed them?”

Charlie hesitated, then nodded slowly, her expression shy. “I did. I know you wanted me to give up on it… but I couldn’t.”

Lucifer’s voice caught in his throat. He had discouraged her from this dream? He had… pushed her away from it? In his own world, he had harboured doubts about redemption as well, too scarred from his own failures to try it again. But here—here, Charlie had persevered. She had done the impossible.

Charlie’s soft voice continued, her gaze far away. “I know… you didn’t approve. You said they belonged here, that sinners had earned this place, that they should pay for their crimes. But I thought… I thought that if someone truly wanted to change, if they believed in themselves enough to make better choices, then they deserved the chance to try.”

She twisted her hands, struggling to articulate what had driven her through the years. “Redemption isn’t about forgetting their crimes. It’s about healing. It’s about accepting what they’ve done… and learning to build a better path.”

Lucifer felt a warmth and admiration fill him. He stared at his daughter, wanting to hear more, to understand what she had built without him. “How… how did you do it?”

Charlie smiled softly, though there was a weight in her expression. “It took me a long time to figure it out. At first, I thought it was about showing kindness, building trust, using little gestures and encouragements. But that wasn’t enough. You can’t save anyone with just kindness and smiles.”

She shook her head, sighing. “Redemption—real redemption—wasn’t about glossing over their sins. I learned that it required the sinner to confront the very things that got them here, the sins that had ensnared their souls in Hell.”

Her voice lowered, almost reverent. “Every sinner in Hell has a victim in Heaven. I struggled with that for so long… couldn’t understand why some souls seemed incapable of redemption. Then I realized they had to seek forgiveness, not just from others, but from themselves. They needed to accept their pain and what they’d done before they could truly move on.”

Lucifer continued to stare at her, awe-struck. This was her approach, her labour of love, poured into each soul who chose to change. He finally managed to ask, voice low and uncertain, “And what… what happens to them? When they’re redeemed?”

Charlie gazed up at the portraits with a bittersweet smile. “They go to Heaven, but…”

She paused, glancing at him. “I couldn’t send them to live with those who never fell. It wasn’t fair to their victims to make them live side by side. There was… a lot of tension about it, and I didn’t want anyone to suffer. So, I worked with Emily—she’s one of the angels—and we decided… to create a new place.”

Lucifer’s jaw dropped. “You… created a new ring?”

Charlie flushed, glancing down. “I… I don’t really know how I did it, Dad. It just happened. I met a woman—she was one of Sir Pentious’ victims. She was… so hurt, so angry. I realized I couldn’t send redeemed souls to Heaven and expect their victims to be okay with it. Something in me… changed. I don’t know how to explain it, but suddenly… the new ring was there. It was for them—for the redeemed. Mum helped me set it up.”

Lucifer’s mind spun as he looked back to the paintings, his heart thrumming with awe and pride. She had done it. She had found a way to bridge the gap that no one thought could be crossed.

“Charlie…” he began, his voice thick, squeezing her hand gently. “I am so proud of you.”

Charlie froze, eyes wide and trembling. “Y-you… you are?” Her voice was tiny, almost as if she was afraid, she had imagined his words.

Lucifer nodded, his own smile faltering with emotion. “I’m so proud of you, Charlie.”

“What you’ve done… it’s incredible. I thought it was impossible, but you’ve done it. All of this…” he gestured to the paintings, “It’s amazing.”

Charlie’s lip trembled, tears welling in her eyes. “I kept asking you to come and see… to see what I was doing. But you kept saying you couldn’t. That you were too busy with Hell.”

Her voice cracked, and she quickly turned her head to wipe at her eyes. “Even after the first redeemed soul, you didn’t come…”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Charlie melted into his embrace, clinging to him as tears trickled down her cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be proud of me, Dad.”

He held her even tighter, his own eyes misting with pride and regret. “I am, Charlie. More than you know.”

Lucifer chuckled, folding his arms and watching Charlie with a gentle smile, but inside he felt a tug—a reminder of all the moments this version of himself had missed. As if to heighten that feeling, Vaggie returned, her face warm and blushing, her usually flowing white and purple hair now braided neatly down her back.

Charlie’s face lit up immediately. “Aww!”

She pouted playfully, her eyes wide. “Mum braided your hair?”

Vaggie’s cheeks flushed a little deeper as she self-consciously touched the braid, fingers grazing the neat weave.

“Is it bad?” she asked softly.

Charlie shook her head, her expression full of admiration. “Of course not! You look beautiful.”

Vaggie smiled shyly, gratitude in her eyes. But Charlie’s pout grew, her shoulders drooping as she sighed. “I wish Mum would braid my hair…”

Lucifer perked up, puffing out his chest with pride. “I can braid your hair for you, Charlie!”

Charlie snorted, patting his shoulder in mock sympathy. “Dad, last time you tried to do my hair, I had knots for a month straight. Mum was soooooo pissed.”

Vaggie chuckled, a knowing grin on her face. Lucifer felt a pang in his chest, his playful confidence slipping for a moment.

“Your mother… he does a lot, doesn’t he?” He looked away, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips as he imagined how much Adam must have taken on, all while his counterpart focused solely on ruling Hell. It left a bitterness in him—this version of Adam had managed so much, carrying their family and all their dreams.

Charlie picked up on the slight dip in his mood. She stepped forward, a comforting hand on his arm. “You know, you could go see Mum now. I know he’d love to see you too, Dad.”

Lucifer looked at her, his eyes reflecting a hesitancy and reluctance to let this bonding moment with her go. “Are you sure, Charlie? I’m more than happy to spend more time with you.”

Charlie’s face softened with a warm, reassuring smile. “Dad, just seeing you here… hearing you say that you’re proud of me and what I’m doing… it means everything.”

She gave his hand a squeeze, her eyes earnest. “Mum missed you so much too. I think he needs to hear this from you just as much as I did.”

Lucifer hesitated for a beat, his mind filling with Adam’s face, his familiar voice, the light in his eyes when he smiled. He reached out to Charlie, pulling her into another tight hug.

“You don’t know how proud I am of you, my little star,” he murmured.

Charlie smiled, hugging him back tightly, and then pulled away, giving him a gentle nudge toward the door.

“Go on, Dad. I’ll be here when tomorrow. Besides, Mum might have more hair-braiding in store for me if I’m really lucky.” She winked, and Vaggie chuckled, giving Charlie’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

Lucifer took a deep breath, his heart full, and headed down the hall, his mind full of gratitude and determination. Today, he would tell Adam everything he had meant to say all along.

When Lucifer finally found his way to Adam’s room—a journey that had taken far longer than he’d admit, only to remember he could have simply conjured a portal—he hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle. Soft singing seeped through the walls, a familiar hum that wrapped around him like a spell, tugging his heart toward the melody’s warmth. Cautiously, Lucifer pushed the door open, his breath catching as he stepped inside.

Adam lay reclined on the bed, his head nestled against the pillows, a warm water bottle hugged to his chest and his feet propped up comfortably. His golden eyes were half-lidded, distant and peaceful, as he sang softly. In the dim glow, his cerulean horns shimmered as though filled with galaxies, each starburst of light a soft pulse in rhythm with his voice. Lucifer’s heart stumbled in his chest, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him, a strange, bittersweet ache spreading through him. This was what he’d dreamed of this was what he’d wanted—a family, a life beyond his realm’s shadows.

Entranced, he barely noticed himself shifting forward, trying to take silent steps across the room to avoid disturbing Adam. But his hoof met the edge of a cabinet, sending him stumbling forward with a resounding thud. Lucifer winced as he hit the wall, groaning as he rubbed his face, his blush blooming with embarrassment.

Adam’s voice cut off mid-song, and he whipped his head around, eyes wide with alarm before relaxing into soft amusement as he took in the sight of Lucifer kneeling sheepishly on the floor.

"Are you okay?" Adam asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in Lucifer's flushed face.

Lucifer scrambled to his hooves, trying to brush it off with his best nonchalant grin.

"Oh, perfectly fine! Didn’t hurt a bit," he lied, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Please, continue—I was enjoying the song.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t hide the slight tremble of laughter as he took in the red line running straight down Lucifer’s face. He chuckled, patting the bed beside him. "Come here, you klutz. How did things go with Charlie?"

Lucifer removed his top hat, setting it carefully on the side table. As he ran a hand through his sleek blond hair, ruffling it until it was charmingly tousled, he took a seat beside Adam, sinking into the mattress. His smile softened, brightening his face.

“It went really well,” he said, voice rich with a happiness he hadn’t felt in ages. He told Adam everything—how Charlie’s spirit, her vision, had grown beyond anything he’d dared hope. “I’m so proud of her! She’s accomplished something I thought impossible… she’s giving sinners a second chance.”

Adam listened closely, laughing at Lucifer’s enthusiastic gushes and nodding with understanding. His eyes sparkled, reflecting every word, full of love for the father and daughter before him. Lucifer felt an urge building inside him—a tender, timid question he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask. Swallowing, he reached a hand toward Adam, gesturing delicately to the baby bump.

Adam glanced down, his eyes softening, then met Lucifer’s gaze with a gentle smile. With a nod, he took Lucifer’s hand and placed it over the warmth of his belly. Lucifer let out a breath, feeling the radiating heat through the fabric, feeling the life beneath his palm. With reverence, he stroked his hand across the curve, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over the hidden little heartbeat within.

As he caressed the bump, he recounted Charlie’s accomplishments—the new ring she’d created, her work with redeemed souls, her unbreakable commitment to helping others find peace. He shared, voice quivering with pride, how she was blossoming into a remarkable young woman.

"She’s giving others what I couldn’t,” he said softly, “A chance to become something more, something good.”

He leaned closer, pressing his cheek to Adam’s belly, letting the warmth seep into him, grounding him in this moment.

Adam’s hand drifted to his hair, fingers carding through the unruly strands. Lucifer nuzzled into the touch, his heart brimming with gratitude and wonder as he murmured, “And she’s found love, Adam. Vaggie is wonderful to her. She has a real family.”

He closed his eyes, pressing his face closer to Adam, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. This was more than he’d ever allowed himself to wish for, a vision of what Hell could be transformed into, softened by compassion and lit by hope.

Adam’s fingers brushed soothingly over his scalp, and his voice was a low, reassuring hum. “And she has you too, you know… her family isn’t complete without you. You make it all possible, Lucifer. Just by being here.”

Lucifer tilted his head up, catching Adam’s gaze, and a silent, fragile understanding passed between them, filling the room with a quiet peace. Adam smiled, a glow of happiness warming his cheeks as he traced a hand along Lucifer’s jaw, cupping his face gently.

“Stay here with me, will you?” Adam asked, his voice soft, an invitation as much as a plea.

Lucifer’s hand covered Adam’s, his thumb stroking tenderly over his knuckles.

"As long as you'll have me," he murmured, his voice full of all the promises he’d never been able to make before, echoing into the quiet, a vow whispered only for them.

Adam’s eyes softened, though a shy smile tugged at his lips as he whispered, “You sure you don’t have to go back to work… tonight? Or tomorrow?”

There was a hopeful, almost timid lilt to his voice, as if he were afraid of the answer.

Lucifer’s frown deepened, and he leaned closer, his hand braced against the mattress, effectively caging Adam beneath him.

“No, I’m on vacation, Adam. For the whole damn week. You remember?” His voice was low, unwavering, and fiercely tender.

Adam flushed, his cheeks warming as he dropped his gaze. “I… I know,” he murmured. “I just… I just wanted to be sure.”

He looked away, biting his lip. “I didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night and find you gone... working in the office again.”

Lucifer’s jaw tightened, his lips curving into a soft, determined pout as he absorbed Adam’s quiet confession. The thought of Adam waking up alone, of his other self-abandoning their warm bed to chase work—even in the dead of night—left him with a bitter taste.

How could anyone choose work over this? Over him? He shook his head, cupping Adam’s cheek, letting his thumb trail over the flushed skin.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly, his voice rough with promise.

Leaning down, he captured Adam’s lips in a deep, unhurried kiss, sealing his words with the warmth of his mouth. When he pulled back just enough to murmur, he spoke against Adam’s lips, his voice a low whisper. “I’m here tonight, all night. All week. I’m yours. And when I go back, no more late-night work, no more leaving you alone in the dark.”

Adam’s face softened, his breaths growing shallow as Lucifer pressed small, teasing kisses along his mouth, each word laced with a kiss until Adam was breathless and flushed, his golden eyes dazed and glowing. Lucifer leaned back, a mischievous grin dancing across his lips, pride flashing in his gaze. Slowly, he loosened his tie, pulling it free in a single, deliberate movement, then began to unbutton his vest with measured grace.

“How about I show you,” he said softly, his fingers tracing a line down Adam’s side, letting his claws graze over the soft fabric, “Exactly how much I intend to make up for all those nights I wasn’t here?”

Adam’s breath hitched, a fresh blush spreading across his cheeks. Lucifer’s gaze held his, bright and unwavering, as he leaned in, bringing their lips together once more. But this time, his kiss was deeper, fuller, a promise of nights without interruption and mornings filled with soft, secret light.

Adam's eyes widened, and a nervous laugh slipped past his lips as he tilted his head against the plush pillows, his cheeks flushed.

“You’ve been acting so strangely today,” he murmured, his fingertips tracing gentle circles along Lucifer’s cheekbones. His voice was soft and curious, laced with affection.

Lucifer’s heart thudded as he met Adam’s gaze, feeling an electric warmth coil through him.

“I’ve been acting different?” he asked, feeling a slight tremor under Adam’s touch.

Adam nodded, pulling him down into a tender kiss. “Not in a bad way,” he whispered, his lips brushing softly against Lucifer’s, “It’s just… like another person, somehow. You’ve been so sweet and attentive, like I’m the only thing on your mind.”

Adam’s words were punctuated by soft pecks, each one making Lucifer’s stomach flip.

“Another person?” Lucifer’s heart skipped.

Was he that different from the Lucifer Adam knew? He didn’t care—not when he had this chance, not when Adam looked at him like this. He would savour every moment, every glance and touch. He’d take full advantage of this incredible second chance, no matter how fleeting it might be.

“Well then,” Lucifer murmured, his voice soft but laced with a playful edge as he traced his fingers along Adam’s arm, “I hope you’re liking my ‘new self,’ because I have no intention of going anywhere.”

He pulled his tie free with a slow, teasing smile, letting the fabric slide between his fingers before slipping it around Adam’s wrists, gently binding them together.

Adam’s eyes flicked to the tie, a spark of surprise lighting his expression.

“Um, Luci?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Lucifer grinned, showing the glint of his sharp teeth, his eyes glimmering with a heat that made Adam’s cheeks flush a deeper red.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “I’m just making sure you have all my attention tonight. Wouldn’t want you slipping away before I’ve had the chance to show you exactly what I’ve been planning.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his blush deepening as he swallowed, wide-eyed. But he could see the affection in Lucifer’s gaze, the way he looked at him like he was the only one in the world.

“Oh,” Adam smiled, sliding his bound wrists over Lucifer’s head and pulling him down. “Then, I hope you can live up to those words~”

The grin of Lucifer’s face swiftly became crueller and sharper like.

“Remember, you asked for it~”

The night had stretched on, vivid and electric, far beyond anything Lucifer could have anticipated. It pulsed with life, with something rich and raw that felt forbidden and precious all at once. Adam’s voice—those gasps and breathy whimpers—still clung to the edges of his mind, each sound branding itself into Lucifer’s memory. His hands had traveled across Adam’s body like a map, ensuring that every curve and edge would stay with him, every touch imprinted as much on himself as on Adam. The intensity of it, the sheer rightness, was undeniable.

As they finally curled together in the dim glow of the room, Lucifer felt a warmth he hadn’t known he could crave. Eyes closed, he let himself drift, Adam’s heartbeat a steady rhythm against him. Just a moment, he thought. Just a second, to savor this stillness.

But then—a shiver. Lucifer’s eyes snapped open, and the warmth was gone. He was standing alone, enveloped in a void as silent and consuming as the grave. Darkness surrounded him like smoke, thick and impenetrable. He looked around, heart pounding as he searched the shadows, calling out, "Adam?"

The silence was absolute.

“Adam?” His voice was sharper this time, laced with urgency. But the only answer was an unsettling stillness, one that made the air feel thin and the darkness suffocating.

Then, as if awakening from a trance, Lucifer looked down, realizing he was dressed in his usual red-and-white circus suit, his jacket missing, his bare chest catching the cold, empty air. Dread slithered into his veins, coiling around his bones. He swallowed, his eyes widening as he whispered, "No… no, I don't want to go back.”

“I don’t want to leave this—leave them. I want to stay. I want to stay with Adam. With Charlie. I want—"

The air itself seemed to respond, a cold voice slicing through the void.

“I want my life back.”

A chill crawled up Lucifer’s spine. He spun around, his eyes locking onto a figure that seemed to melt out of the darkness—a figure that looked just like him, but… different. Taller, cloaked in an obsidian-black suit that shimmered like an oil-slick, streaked with deep blues. This was no mere echo. This was him, yet not him, a Lucifer who wore a face twisted by something sharp and bitter.

It was his other self. It was the other worlds Lucifer.

Lucifer’s breath caught. "You…"

The word slipped out as he stared at the apparition. The other Lucifer crossed his arms, his frown cutting sharp lines across his face, eyes narrowed in cold accusation.

"This is my life. My world. You can’t just walk in and take over it."

Lucifer clenched his fists, a fiery heat rising in him. "And why not? You hardly deserve it."

The other Lucifer’s expression shifted, his cool composure cracking to reveal something raw, a jagged edge of emotion. "And you think you do? You think you have a right to steal my life?"

A bitter laugh escaped Lucifer, his anger stoking the embers of his voice. "You’ve been neglecting Adam. You don’t see him. You hardly spend time with him. And Charlie? You ignore her as if she’s a nuisance, a distraction from your precious work!"

The other Lucifer’s eyes flashed dangerously, a faint smirk twisting his lips. "Work? Oh, I’ve been working. You have no idea the burdens I carry, the weight I bear for all of us. But tell me—what makes you think you’re any better? You only wanted Adam because he made you feel again, didn’t you? You were desperate for anything that would break your cursed monotony."

“That’s not true!” Lucifer snarled, feeling something deep and sharp dig into his chest. "I didn’t want to feel. I wanted him. I chose him, long before you ever thought to."

The other Lucifer stepped closer, eyes darkening and let out a sharp, cruel mocking laugh. "Then why did you abandon him in Eden? Why did you pick Lilith? Tell me, if you care so much, why I was the one who chose him, who went to Hell for him!"

Lucifer opened his mouth to retort, but the words stalled. Shame clawed at his throat, bitter and sour. He had left. He had been afraid, unwilling to bear the weight of his choices.

A cruel satisfaction flickered in the other Lucifer's eyes as he watched the effect of his words. “You see? You wanted the dream, but not the cost. And now you come back, playing the saint, claiming my life—my pain, my sacrifices—as your own."

“I don’t want your pain,” Lucifer hissed, his voice low and trembling. “But you’re right. I made the wrong choice. I should have picked him from the beginning, I was distracted by pretty things and empty words. I was afraid. But I’m not that man anymore.”

He stepped closer, his gaze fierce. "I have learned, grown. I can be the partner Adam deserves; the father Charlie needs."

The other Lucifer sneered, bitterness twisting his features. "Spare me your redemption speech. You’ve been playing at change, but in the end, you’re still just a shadow. You’ll break, just as you did before."

Lucifer’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe. But I would rather break for them a thousand times than leave them to a man who cannot see what he has until it's gone.”

The void pulsed, a crackling tension building between them, each holding his ground. The darkness quivered as if it couldn’t contain their fury.

The other Lucifer’s voice crackled through the darkness, laced with fury, contempt—and an undercurrent of bitter sorrow that clung like the smoke of an old fire, too stubborn to be extinguished.

"I’ve seen it all. Every choice you made in your own world. Every twisted game you played in Eden." He spat the words, each one landing like a curse. "You toyed with Adam’s feelings, teased him with glimpses of love only to crush him in ways that would make Hell’s own demons cringe. And don’t think I forgot what you did after that—how you pushed him toward Lilith, only to steal her out from under him. You destroyed them both, and for what? For your own satisfaction? To feel like you had control?"

Lucifer staggered, each accusation striking him like a physical blow. His knees trembled, but he held his ground, feeling a chill seep into his bones.

"And let’s not forget," the other Lucifer continued, his voice a low, venomous hiss, “You were the one who gave Eve the apple, weren’t you? And then—you had the audacity to indulge in your own little threesome with Lilith and Eve the very night humanity fell. How could you ever think you’d make a good partner? A husband? A lover worthy of anyone, let alone my Adam?”

Lucifer felt his throat tighten, shame wrapping itself around his voice, strangling any attempt at protest. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He could only listen, trapped by the weight of his own past, his mistakes reflected at him with a cold, merciless clarity.

The other Lucifer laughed, a harsh sound that echoed through the darkness. “And the bullying afterward—wasn’t it enough to break Adam’s spirit, to rob him of every chance at love, but no, you kept going. Every council meeting with Heaven, every gathering where he had no choice but to face you, you twisted the knife. You flaunted your affairs and mocked him for Lilith, for Eve, for everything he lost because of you.”

He paused, eyes glinting with hatred. “And what did Adam do? Nothing. He fucking sat there and took it, and you never cared.”

Lucifer’s vision blurred as the memories resurfaced, a parade of sins he had long buried but never truly faced.

"And now you want to fucking lecture me?” The other Lucifer’s voice dropped, his face darkening, shadows seeming to twist around him as his anger took form. "Let’s talk about the Exterminations. In your world, both you and Charlie act like they are bad and unneeded, but they are needed.”

“Sinners are here for a reason. They’re not innocent; they’re the very worst of humanity, killers, deceivers, the ones who take and destroy without remorse. Charlie—my Charlie—she’s made strides, yes, but you and I both know that some souls are too twisted to save. And yet, you let her mock Adam, berate Adam for doing what he must. You know what those souls are capable of if they manage to escape. And yet, you still stand in the way, telling yourself you’re somehow better.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Lucifer choked out; his voice raw. "But we both know not all souls are beyond redemption. They need a chance.”

“A chance?” The other Lucifer’s eyes darkened, his mouth twisting in a bitter sneer. "What they need is to be kept from returning to Earth, from reaching Heaven and leaving destruction in their wake. I may have lost my way, but I did what I had to. I protected my Adam, even when he hated me for it. And you? You let your daughter turn her friends against him, against me, knowing full well what would happen if the worst souls were unleashed.”

The other Lucifer’s voice cut through the darkness, each word sharp as a blade, every syllable drenched in a fury that had simmered for centuries.

“You think souls deserve redemption? Let me make this clear—they don’t,” he spat, his words like venom. “Maybe a select few, those rare ones, yes—Charlie’s managed to save them. But even she doesn’t fully understand, can’t possibly see the way those souls are still tainted, still bruised, unable to truly let go of the sins they carried in life.”

His voice dropped, a low, menacing murmur. “Our world had an Extermination, too. When Charlie found out, she pushed back, fought me tooth and nail to change things. So, fine—things are different now, but it’s still happening. Just… slower. Only because I agreed to let her try her way.”

He laughed, a hollow, humourless sound. “But you and I both know the truth, don’t we? Some souls are beyond saving. They’re so far gone that keeping them here is a mistake, a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. And yet, you let her, your Charlie, and her naive ideals blind you. You play at redemption while ignoring what you know in your bones is true.”

Lucifer’s mouth opened, ready to argue, but the other Lucifer silenced him with a sharp glare, his eyes glowing crimson as horns began to press from his skull.

“You know this better than anyone,” he continued, his voice low and vibrating with rage. “No law, no redemption program, is iron-clad. Someone—one of those twisted souls—is bound to fool her. Eventually, one of those fiends will find a loophole, trick their way up to Heaven, and wreak chaos all over again! You know this, and yet you just let your Charlie berate Adam for doing what his job that he never wanted.”

The other Lucifer took a step closer, each word a lash of fury. “Exterminations are needed. But you’ll never convince her of that, will you? Just like I can’t convince mine. And yet, here you are—standing against me as if you don’t understand the danger. You let her mock your Adam, even encourage her little band of ‘redeemers,’ and for what? Just to protect your image? To pretend you’re somehow more merciful?”

Lucifer felt his chest tighten with something almost like shame, but he forced himself to hold the other’s gaze, even as those eyes burned like twin infernos.

“It’s the same in your universe and mine,” the other Lucifer hissed, his voice a dark, dangerous whisper. “These souls—they’re poison, festering deeper with every day they spend here. And each day more of them arrive. You know that. You feel it. And yet, you still taunted Adam, mocked him for doing his job.”

Lucifer felt the words hammer into him, each one ringing with a painful truth. He thought of the countless meetings, the jabs, the digs he’d made at Adam’s expense, a man forced to carry a burden he’d never asked for.

“A job that you know he didn’t want,” the other Lucifer sneered, his voice breaking with rage. “Heaven damned him, cursed him, forced this role onto him. He didn’t have a choice! Maybe he turned it into a game, a twisted dance to keep himself sane, but what else was he supposed to do? You know he barely has any power. You let your daughter and her friends tear him down, turn him into a villain, and for what? So you could feel sorry for yourself?”

The other Lucifer shook his head, disgust flashing across his face. “You knew about the Exterminations. You knew what those cursed souls would do if they escaped. And still, you hid, pretending to be the victim, playing up the tragic act while Hell turned into a battlefield and the man who once trusted you was left alone to hold it together. You abandoned him and let him bear the weight. And now, you have the audacity to stand here and claim you could do better?”

Lucifer’s voice caught in his throat, every defence he could muster dissolving in the wake of the other’s words. He had wanted redemption, a way to right his wrongs, but now he felt exposed, his mistakes, his cruelty laid bare before him.

The other Lucifer’s expression twisted with raw anger, but there was pain there, too—a pain that mirrored the ache buried in Lucifer’s own heart.

“Maybe I’m cruel. Maybe I’m harsh,” he murmured, his voice finally softening, though the fire still burned in his eyes. “But I’ve done it all to keep this world, our world, from collapsing. And as much as it tears me apart, I’ll keep making the hard choices—if it means keeping Adam safe.”

A silence fell between them, thick and heavy, laden with the weight of everything left unsaid. Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat, caught between apology and guilt, and a strange, hollow acceptance. He knew now that he couldn’t fix what he’d done. And standing here, facing himself, he saw that perhaps the other Lucifer’s harsh reality was, in its way, just another form of love—twisted, painful, but love nonetheless.

His eyes gleamed with a vicious light. “You did nothing. You ran away, played the victim. And now, because you lost your Adam, you think you can come and claim mine?”

Lucifer flinched, his chest tightening with the old ache of loss. The memory of his own Adam, gone—vanished into the darkness of his choices, perhaps forever.

The other Lucifer leaned closer; eyes hard. “Yes, I might have been neglectful. Yes, I might have lost sight of what matters. But I can be better. I will be fucking better. I’m not deluding myself about who I am, or the cost of what I’ve done. I’ve sacrificed my time, my love, my life, all to keep Hell in check—to keep the darkness from spilling over. So don’t you dare fucking lecture me on my sins when yours make mine look tame.”

His voice cracked, the rage giving way to something rawer, stripped of the bravado and bitterness. “You know nothing about what it’s like. Adam... he’s fragile in my world. He doesn’t have the immortality of the Adam you lost. His curse wasn’t Lilith’s barren womb—it was something far worse. No immunity. A body as delicate as glass. He can’t go anywhere alone; one illness, one attack, and he could die.”

The other Lucifer’s voice trembled as he spoke, his anger fraying into desperation. “If anyone here knew just how weak he really is… I would lose him. He nearly died when he bore Charlie, and I thought… I thought I’d lose them both. And now? I have another child on the way, and I’m terrified he won’t survive it.”

Lucifer’s gaze fell, shame tightening in his gut. For all his own sacrifices, he had never faced the same fears this other self-had endured, the endless vigilance, the agony of knowing the one he loved was only ever one step away from death.

The other Lucifer looked at him, and for the first time, the anger in his face softened into something like understanding. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been cruel, even reckless. But it was all to keep him safe, to keep Hell in order. I’ve seen the horrors that human souls can become, how they twist and corrupt even further in death. And Adam… he’s all I have. So yes, maybe I’ve gone too far. But you? You’ve done worse and still want to pretend you’re the better man.”

He shook his head, his voice a hoarse whisper. “You don’t get to take this from me. Not after everything I’ve done to keep him alive.”

Lucifer looked up, his voice barely more than a murmur. “I… didn’t know.”

The other Lucifer stared at him, silent for a long moment. “No. You didn’t. But that doesn’t excuse what you came here to do.”

He took a steadying breath, his eyes hardening again. “If you care about Adam, if you ever did, then you’ll turn back now. Let me protect him in the only way I know how.”

Lucifer swallowed; his throat tight. He had come here seeking redemption, a chance to rewrite his mistakes, to find a version of Adam he could love without losing himself. But standing here, facing the man he could have become, he saw something he hadn’t expected—sacrifice, duty, and a love that ran deeper than any darkness he had known.

Slowly, he nodded, stepping back into the shadows. “I… I’ll go. But know this. I’m sorry for everything I put him through, for every sin, every betrayal. I got a week off for you, don’t go back to work…spend time with Adam and Charlie, they-they miss you…a lot.”

His voice faltered. “And I hope… I hope you can be the man he deserves.”

The other Lucifer watched him go, his face an unreadable mask. But as Lucifer slipped into the darkness, he thought he saw a glimmer of understanding, a hint of forgiveness—if only a sliver, buried deep within those storm-grey eyes.

“You don’t deserve any Adam and you never will.”

Lucifer closed his eyes – it was painful to hear.

He agreed.

[khaire-traveler]

🩺 Subtle Asklepios Worship⚕️

Take your medications, if any; take medications if you need to (headaches, stomaches, etc.)

Try herbal teas as remedies for MINOR health issues (nausea, stomaches, etc.)

Try to visit the doctor when needed and if able

Take care of your physical health

Exercise; get some movement throughout your day, even just stretching

Have a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Keep a picture of him in your wallet

Wear jewelry that reminds you of him

Have a stuffed animal snake or horse (potentially a rooster; doesn't seem to be a confirmed sacred animal; horse is due to Chiron)

Have symbols of his medical staff (a single snake wrapped around a stick), centaurs, stars (specifically his constellation Ophiochus), or healing (anything you associate with it) around

Take regular breaks from screens

Take a walk/hike outside, especially under the sun when you can get some Vitamin D

Try to eat healthy if you can; eat fruits and veggies, drink milk or calcium-rich drinks, eat fish or protein-rich meats, etc.

Drink herbal teas or natural juices

Try to take care of your hygiene; take regular showers, brush your teeth, wash your hands, use moisturizer, etc.

Eat three meals a day

Try to work on maintaining a regular sleep schedule

Engage in relaxing or calming activities before bed or when you're stressed

Have a morning and night self-care routine

Be gentle with yourself, especially when you're having a difficult time

Practice mindfulness; try meditation if you can

Keep your space clean; make it comfortable and physically safe for yourself

Remind yourself that healing, especially mentally, is rarely a linear path

Look into healthy coping skills for any anxiety, depression, trauma, etc. - anything that can improve your mental/emotional well-being

Prioritize your own well-being

Practice compassion, especially toward yourself

Spend time with loved ones and pets

Try to feed your pet healthy foods; make sure to keep any pets healthy (measure their food intake, give them regular exercise, groom them regularly, etc.)

Support others who are going through a difficult time IF YOU CAN; sometimes we're not well enough to help, and that's ok!!!

Keep a self-care/self-love journal

Take a self-care bath/shower, especially with herbs

Try eating healthy snacks, such as nuts, seeds, berries, or granola

Learn about healthcare, anatomy, or any medical conditions you or loved ones have

Learn your rights when it comes to healthcare as well as your options; educate yourself on HIPPA (if in US)

Support healthcare, humanitarian, or homeless shelter organizations

Cook a meal for someone in need

Cook a meal for a loved one or pet

Donate clothes, food, hygiene kits to homeless shelters; donate warm clothes in the winter

Sit outside, especially in sunlight, for a while; meditate if you're able or do something relaxing, such as playing an instrument or drawing

Feed neighborhood cats, dogs, birds, etc.

Grow your own herbs or produce

-

This is my list of discreet ways to worship Asklepios! I hope it helps someone out. I may add more later on. Take care! 💚

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

[leighsartworks216]

Linger Longer

Zayne x gn!Reader

I need this man to release his chokehold on me today so I can sleep

Title from "Linger Longer" by Cosmo Sheldrake

Warnings: domestic fluff, food, alcohol mention, dancing, established relationship

Word Count: 581

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (Psst fill this out to be tagged in future fics!)

Strips of thinly sliced beef soaked in teriyaki, chopped vegetables and seasonings sizzle in the wok as Zayne stirs the food around, moving the pan in tandem with the skill of a professional chef. The rice cooker diligently completes its sacred duty, set up by you. It’s the one thing you feel capable of not screwing up when you make dinner with your husband, who seems to know no bounds when it comes to cooking the best recipes he can find.

The table is already set with utensils and napkins. A bottle of wine, thawing after being chilled by his Evol, waits next to two glasses. He doesn’t partake often, and he certainly won’t drink a lot when he does, but tonight feels special, like it deserves a small drink to celebrate.

Celebrate what?

Well, nothing.

Work has been generally the same for both of you. Nothing exceptional has happened in your personal lives, either, aside from winning a plushie from the claw machine that you’d been coveting ever since it was announced.

Still, something in the air felt different tonight.

As Zayne turns off the stovetop and transfers the contents of the wok into a container, the music playing from your phone can be heard again. You feel light as you hear the flowing orchestral melody. The only reason it’s on your phone in the first place is because of a dance you shared with Zayne at a gala hosted by Akso Hospital. It became one of many dances you’d shared ever since. He glances over with a smile as he connects the dots.

Once he sets down the cookware, you take his hand. There’s still some time left on the rice cooker, anyway.

He wordlessly steps away from the counter, holding your hand in his while the other finds your waist. You hold his shoulder, hand resting over the strap of the gag-gift apron you gave him one year, as he guides you in a waltz. The steps are small, accounting for the limited space in your shared apartment, but it feels like you’re in the center of a huge ballroom.

Zayne looks at you like you’re responsible for hanging the stars in the sky, eyes gleaming with adoration. You let go of his hand to wrap your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes even as he leans down slightly. His arms hug your waist, holding you close as you sway back and forth. You rest your head against his shoulder. He rests his head on top of yours.

It’s easy to close your eyes and bask in the moment.

The air is hot from cooking, which makes being this close to each other uncomfortable, but neither of you wants to let go. The song has skipped over to the next in the playlist, one far more upbeat and lively, but you continue to move as though the orchestra is still playing their sweet symphony just for you.

In two minutes, the rice cooker will beep. You’ll have to pull away. He’ll remove the lid and fluff the rice while you grab bowls for the stir fry. You’ll both sit at the table and enjoy your meal, talking about your days and your future plans. Afterward, you’ll work together to clean up the kitchen, and come up with a plan for breakfast tomorrow.

The world will move on.

So, for now, for as long as you can, you’ll linger here, in this moment. In his arms. Together.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44

[voraciouskingdom]

The rare Super Blue Moon of August 19, 2024, is a powerful time for personal and collective transformation. This event combines the intensified energy of a Supermoon, when the Moon is closest to Earth, with the rarity of a Blue Moon, the second full moon in a month. It symbolizes renewal, heightened awareness, and the closing of a significant chapter. Use this energy to set clear intentions for the next phase of your life. Reflect on your journey, release old patterns, and express gratitude. Engage in meditation, create a sacred space, and try best practices such as a lunar bath or burning a list of things you wish to release. Spending time outdoors under the moonlight can ground your energy, while paying attention to your dreams might reveal important insights. This Super Blue Moon is a reminder of our connection to the universe and the opportunities for growth it presents. Embrace it with an open heart and mind, ready to receive the universe's gifts and blessings.

🔥❤️‍🔥

[joshdonnas]

do you have any j/d fic recs? :D

Absolutely!! This fandom is really blessed with some of the best writers I've seen, so there's a lot of really good content out there to read, but I'll list some of my favorites under the cut ☺️

FAVORITE AUTHORS 💛

I thought I'd start by listing some of my authors, I’ll also be listing some of my personal favorite fics from theirs down bellow, but any of their works are totally worth the read: 

jessbakescakes | sam_writes_fics | BeneathAnOrangeSky | thotsandfeelings | littlefoolswritings | thefinestmuffins | joshatella (shuuuliet) | hanyolo | flowersinapril | spooky_spacegirl | hufflepuffhermione | mikaylawrites

FAVORITE FICS (in no particular order) 💛

running, by andyoureturntome (work in progress, rated M): "Matt Santos is running for president. Josh and Donna are just running away. Augmented canon for seasons six and seven. Ventures into AU territory from 6x18 on." (when I say this is one of my favorite fics ever you have no idea how much I mean it. it’s honestly so good, a must read in my opinion. it’s still in progress, and it’s not updated very frequently , but it’s still so so worth it (here’s to hoping we’ll get a next chapter soon!!).

the other side of the door, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated M): "Donna wanders out of the bathroom, baffled by how late it is for the hundredth night in a row, and she drapes her coat over a chair before moving to plug in her cell phone. The blinking light catches her attention, and she flips it open. One missed call. From Josh. Perfect. Post-ep for 7x13: The Cold." (I honestly read this one every time I watch the cold)

say you’ll never let them tear us apart, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "what would it be like in the santos era for josh and donna to get media coverage as a couple?"

love grows (where my donnatella goes), by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "the first year of the santos administration in four parts"

how i love the view when i'm beside you, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Josh and Donna on Valentine's Day; Chiefs of Staff era J/D"

cutting me open then healing me fine, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna are in the press room when it gets shot at, and the trajectory of a bullet changes the trajectory of their lives. Evidence of Things Not Seen AU."

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

even cnn is wrong, sometimes, by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "She snakes her hand between them, high instead of low, wrapping it around his bowtie. Starts to pull. And it’s this that snaps him out of it. Because Josh Lyman isn’t a press secretary and he isn’t a communications director and he isn’t Sam or Toby and he sure as hell isn’t Will, but he’s spent enough time around enough writers to appreciate the art of analogy (at the end of the night you wanna be able to pull it open like tony bennett), to recognize symmetry (donna? my tie’s falling apart), to understand that codas don’t exist merely in cello suites or stump speeches; that life makes space for sartorial bookends, too. Like bowties being tied, then untied." (utterly obsessed with the way this author writes)

gather ye rosebuds, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "A one and done smutshot, canon-divergent from 20 Hours in LA, in which Josh realizes where his rosebuds are and goes back to his hotel room to gather them."

we've been living on a fault line, by sam_writes_fics (finished, rated T): "6x02: Josh spends five days at Camp David, and every night all he thinks about is Donna."

burning slowly, my one and only, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated T): "I can't stop thinking about you."

sacred new beginnings, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): " But now, he doesn’t need her anymore – or he shouldn’t, anyway. So she’ll go back to her apartment, and he’ll go back to work, and things will go back to normal, whatever the hell that means. There’s something about that idea that makes his stomach churn."

an act of charity, by thatTWWgirl (finished, rated T): "A date with the White House Deputy Chief of Staff is put up for auction at the First Lady's fundraiser, and he's not too happy about it."

domestic days, by spooky_spacegirl (finished, rated G): "One day Josh and Donna look around and realize that, somewhere along the line, they have slipped into something that can only be described as Domesticated. One-Shot collection. Post-Canon." (so so so cute, never fails to bring a smile to my face)

this is the wonder (that's keeping the stars apart), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (work in progress, rated T): "A soulmate AU".

I want It all or nothing, no more in between, by scarmophogoghs (finished, rated E): "Want to go to Hawai'i? With me? Please?” (huuuge Hawaii fit we all cheered)

stuck with nowhere to go, by littlefoolswritings (finished, rated E): "what if it was only Josh and Donna who'd been left behind by the motorcade? just the two of them?)" (I love this one my god)

a pathological avoidance thing, by yanak324 (finished, rated M): "Josh isn’t sure what to make of the lack of surprise on the President-elect’s face when he explains why he’s taking time off. He has bigger fish to fry though." (this one is from Josh's POV, and this one is from Donna's!)

when a woman loves a man (who loves a woman), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (finished, rated M): "“You’re sensitive. It’s sweet.” She bites back a smile at the image she’s evoked. Everyone thinks they know the real Josh Lyman. Bartlet’s bulldog, political wunderkind, the man behind Washington’s curtain. But they don’t know him like this. She brushes a sweaty tangle of hair from his forehead and pretends not to notice when he leans into her touch. No, this side of him is reserved just for her. His mouth opens in surprise, voice pitching up a notch, “I am n—” “Your system,” she amends. “Your system is sensitive.”"

of the united states, by violet_storms (finished, rated G): "Fifty states, fifty sentences, fifty snapshots of Josh and Donna falling in love on the campaign trail."

on the line, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated G): "Josh and Donna and a pathological inability to hang up the phone."

you can run (but only so far), by swancharmings (finished, rated M): "The room is quaint, if a bit tacky, one sad sprig of holly greeting them at the door. A fine representation of how she feels this Christmas."

love is the only thing, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "The Moss-Lyman girls read Little Women; Josh has a lot of feelings."

it was like autumn, looking at her, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "His eyelids flutter open, gentler than usual. Blearily, he catches the alarm clock blinking a red 7:48 a.m. If this were five years ago, he would already be on his third cup of coffee. If this were five months ago, he never would have made it to bed in the first place. But it’s now—and he wraps his arm tighter around Donna’s waist."

it's paradise as long as I'm with you, by thotsandfeelings (finished, rated E): "Hawaii."

only bought this dress so you could take it off, by hanyolo (finished, rated M): "josh has a thing for donna in red (as he should)"

nothing that i wouldn't do (to make you feel my love), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Josh re-arranges his priorities. A Gaza hospital fix-it fic." (I'm always thinking about this one)

hell was the journey but it brought me heaven, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "On the drive, it starts to hit him. Leah was born on the anniversary of the Rosslyn shooting. What would this mean for him? Leah deserved a father who wouldn’t be absolutely miserable on his daughter’s birthday every year. Of course, he’d love to think that her birth could erase all of the negative feelings he’s ever had toward this day, that it could make all of the anxiety and trauma melt away. But if he couldn’t pull it together on the day she was born, the day she came into the world, what evidence does he have to support the idea that next year will be better? Or the year after that?"

there ain’t no need to go outside, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated E): "A lazy, rainy morning at home."

how to say I love you in subtext, by RhapsodyInProgress (finished, rated T): "If you know where to look and what to listen for, Josh and Donna have been telling each other how they feel for years. A series of vignettes on a theme."

annus primus, by hufflepuffhermione (finished, rated T): "The first year of the Santos administration, in twelve movements."

sit with you in the trenches, by swancharmings (finished, rated T): "”So you’ve got health and strength.” “And we’ll steal the rest?” “Bet your ass.” // Four ways they did exactly that."

oversight, by thefinestmuffins (finished, rated E): "War Crimes angst + hooking up" (a MUST read!!!)

can't call you a stranger (but i can't call you), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "King Corn. The elevator gets stuck."

for a long time, by onelargecoffeepls (finished, rated M): "Seven short glimpses into Donna falling in love with Josh based on "Love You For A Long Time" by Maggie Rogers."

this is how mythology is written (or: shards; scars; and whole again), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "The mosaic of Josh and Donna." (GOD this one!!!)

where the lovelight gleams, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated E): "Donna brings Josh home for Christmas and has some thoughts about him in a holiday sweater; takes place during Transition" (OBSESSED!!!)

the way old friends do, by mikaylawrites (finished, rated T): "Donna, Toby, Charlie, and the chaotic people they love."

the first 100 days, by BimadaBomily (finished, rated T): "100 moments in Josh/Donna's relationship during the first 100 days of the Santos Administration."

like we were in paris (we were somewhere else), by BeneathAnOrangeSky (work in progress, rated M): "Josh, Donna, and the worlds they transform together // or: an ode to Paris (Taylor's Version)" (again, the way this author writes??!!?!)

find ourselves in the winter snow, by swancharmings (finished, rated E): "It’s when he leads her to dance, holding her impossibly close and swaying gently through the upbeat tempo, that she truly doesn’t know what to expect of the evening."

please linger near the door, by cmbing (finished, rated T): "They’re definitely not dating when there is a presidential dinner and they don’t think to invite dates. Instead, they assume they’ll go with each other. Him in a black tux, her in a red dress. Their arms are interlocked as they enter the ballroom, and Donna even goads Josh into dancing with her. It’s friendly, nothing more. They’re just having sex. That’s it."

with one hello, I'll never be the same, by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "Josh and Donna and how 'hi' means so much more than 'hello'."

all you ever wanted from me (was sweet nothin'), by joshatella (shuuuliet) (finished, rated T): "Donna hadn’t had a nightmare about her ex since she started dating Josh, since well before she moved in with Josh after their week in Hawaii, since her life became better than it ever has been, since she became happier than she ever thought that she could be. Which is probably why she’s so shaken when the nightmare returns. Set post-series, in the Santos CoS era." (soooo sweet)

AUs 💛

i like shiny things (but i'd marry you with paper rings), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated T): "In the aftermath of the First Lady's birthday party, Josh, Donna, and the rest of the Senior Staff deal with the fallout of Donna's realization that she's no longer a U.S. Citizen. CJ, Sam, and Toby have taken it upon themselves to get this figured out, and it’s a good thing, because Josh’s brain can only present him with one solution: Marry Donna Moss."

my days now end as they began (with thoughts of you), by flowersinapril (work in progress, rated T): "A new neighbour moves in next door to Josh and she isn't happy with how loud and chaotic he is." (can't wait for the next chapter of this one!!!)

sometimes it's like you grew up down the street, by starsontheceiling (finished, rated G): "Afterwards, he’ll say he did it without thinking and all their friends will laugh at him in disbelief, and he understands why but it’s still true."

you came like a resolution (under a starry sky), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Donna, this is my brother, Josh. Josh, this is Donna. She lives across the hall"

an everlasting love, by sam_writes_fics (work in progress, rated T): "best man and maid of honor au" (has not been updated in a while but I love the idea of this pic so so much and I think about constantly)

think i missed the gun at the starting line, by ansatz (finished, rated T): "After qualifying for the Olympics in 2016, but being unable to compete due to an injury, Donna Moss is back, ready to run, and completely focused on earning a medal for Team Canada. Enter Josh Lyman, reigning Olympic champion with a heart of—you guessed it—gold. Two countries, two sports: one chance to fall in love?"

what if i told you, i feel like i know you? but we never met., by donnatellamoss (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss meets an unfamiliar face when she knocks on Sam Seaborn’s door for their English project. His name’s Josh Lyman and he’s good at bothering people."

absolutely smitten (never let you go), by JessBakesCakes (finished, rated G): "Josh feels all the air whoosh out of his lungs when he sees the teacher standing on the other side of the door. She looks at the group standing outside her door, puzzled for a moment, until her blue eyes lock with Josh’s. Her blonde hair is tucked neatly behind her ears, and pumpkin earrings dangle from her earlobes. She’s wearing a copper-colored fall sweater, adorned with leaves around the collar that match her bulletin board. Her ID badge dangles from her neck, one of those ink pens in a bright, funky color clipped to her lanyard.  “Miss Moss,” CJ says. “This is Mr. Lyman from the high school."" (always thinking about this one honestly I need more!!!)

the campaign around the corner, orphan_account (finished, rated G): "Donna Moss is working for Howard Stackhouse's presidential campaign in 1998. Josh Lyman is working for Jed Bartlet's presidential campaign in 1998. The two cannot stand each other. Little do they know the person each of them is beginning to fall in love with over email is the other." (you've got mail au!!!!!!!!!!)

everybody talks (it started with a whisper), by JessBakesCakes (work in progress, rated G): "Being the White House Press Secretary, Josh realizes, is one of the toughest jobs in the administration to begin with. But with her co-workers' propensity for going viral, CJ certainly deserves a raise. The West Wing, set 20 years later." (soooo obsessed with this one MY GOD)

darling, so it goes (some things are meant to be), by mikaylawrites (finished, rated M): "The story of rising country singers Josh Lyman and Donna Moss." (so good!!!)

ballerina, you've must have seen her, by thababes (work in progress, rated G): "It was always supposed to have been Josh and Mandy. After their successful run of Carmen, it had been expected that The Washington Ballet would stick to what worked. There was never supposed to be another audition. Company principles seemingly traveling from role to role was the usual. It had been an unusual season — schedule conflicts and last minute alternate class partners — and suddenly, everything seemed to have changed. And it had all started when he had danced with her." (I think about this one constantly)