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queensunshinee · 5 days ago

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So sweet- part 2 || Patrick Zweig x reader, Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (mention of p in v sex, oral sex), mention of an eating disorder, family drama, death in the family, cheating. It's a mess.

Word Count: 7.9k

(Part 1)

So sweet- part 2:

Art leaned against the doorframe as he looked at you. Since your back was to him, you hadn't seen him yet, and he felt like he had the upper hand. As if he didn’t need to be defensive. As if he was still part of your life. Your hair looked shorter than the last time he saw you. But then again, the last time he saw you, you told him you never wanted to see him again, so maybe he didn’t remember all the details as well as he’d like to.

Maybe he felt that "never" was subjective. That everyone could choose what to take from the word "never." That a year and a half without speaking to you was enough "never" for him, and you'd be a hypocrite if you said it wasn’t for you too. "Are you going to stand there much longer, Donaldson?" Your voice sounded the same. He'd recently discovered he hated a lot of things, but at the top of his list were all the times you called him by his last name instead of his first.

"You really do have eyes in the back of your head," he tried to joke, but he didn’t hear you laugh, not even a chuckle. He hadn’t seen your face yet, but he could guess you weren’t even smiling. "Aren’t you supposed to be in Atlanta?" you asked. If he didn’t know you, he might have thought you were fine. That this was just polite conversation between two acquaintances who hadn’t seen each other in a while and ran into each other by chance. "My first match isn’t for another two days. I couldn’t miss the funeral," he said quietly. "I’m really sorry for your loss, you know that, right?" He took a few large steps and sat on the bed next to you, hoping you’d give him this moment. Hoping you wouldn’t be angry. Not when he was trying so hard.

"She was a mean drunk," you muttered. "Not a huge loss," you added, glancing at him for a second, allowing yourself to surrender to the moment. He recognized the piercing gaze. Maybe a wrinkle that wasn’t there before, but your eyes were the same eyes. You were the same girl he used to love. Used to. Used to. Used to. Before he went on his path in life and you on yours. Before he made a decision, and then you made a decision, and then both of you made decisions. Before words were said. Before he left and you stayed. Before he opened up and you shut down. Used to.

"You’re a grown man, you should know how to tie a tie by now, don’t you think?" you asked, probably trying to lighten the sadness that filled your childhood room, located right across from his childhood room. He wanted to thank you for that. But he never knew how to talk to you honestly. Why would he start now? "Tashi usually does it," he said quietly, and you stood in front of him, starting to adjust the damn tie. You had no idea what you were doing to his heartbeat. "I’m sorry about your grandmother. I was at your parents’ house afterward. I don’t know if they told you," you mumbled.

He was so angry at you for not coming to the funeral. Because by what right did you take his tragedy and make him consumed with thoughts of you? About your absence. About your hand that could’ve held his tightly, just like you did when he was eight, and Jameson died. Instead, he held Tashi’s hand. She didn’t squeeze. She let go after a few minutes. He was so angry that at his grandmother’s funeral, more than anything, he missed you. So now, a few minutes before heading to your mother’s funeral, he squeezed your hand for a moment while you adjusted his tie, looking at him with big eyes filling with tears you refused to let fall. "Better," you said.

He didn’t think it was better. He didn’t want to argue. He just nodded. . . . Patrick couldn’t focus. Every time he hit that stupid ball, he thought about the fight he had with his dad a week ago and the dumb argument he had with you before leaving for Atlanta. He hadn’t told you yet that his parents decided to cut him off from the trust fund. He hadn’t told you that he was basically broke. Sometimes Patrick thinks you’re the only person in the world who looks at him like he understands something about life. Like he’s capable of pulling off magic at any given moment. Sparkling eyes and a smile. He wonders when was the last time you looked at him like that. It’s been a few good months. He can’t deliver. Not the damn ball and not in real life.

He hesitates. Everything he does comes with a certain delay. He knows that at 24, he’s expected to understand who he is and what he wants from life. But what he wants from life doesn’t want him back, and that’s something he’s not willing to accept. He blames his parents for the fact that he’s too spoiled. That he doesn’t know when to stop. That he can’t let go of dreams. That he has to be the best, even though he’s drowning in his own mediocrity. He moves too fast between knowing how good he is at what he does and the harsh slap of reality that comes with each of his failures. Every tournament he loses in the second round, every person who was once in his life and doesn’t want him anymore. They found something better. Something more put-together.

He saw Tashi from a distance for the second time in the last two days. Always alone, Art wasn’t with her. He wondered why Art wasn’t here. He knew Art was competing. Everyone knew Art was competing. The rising star of American tennis. Motherfucker. His dad screamed it at him when he lost it a week ago— “I wish Art Donaldson were my son, maybe then I wouldn’t be so ashamed.” Patrick won’t tell anyone that it hurt. Not because he cares what his shitty dad thinks of him. Not because he cares that Art is succeeding on an international level, breaking into the world’s top ten. Fulfilling all the dreams they once dreamed together. Patrick cares because he knows that at any given moment, he could beat Art. He’s better than Art. So how is it that Art is ranked eighth and Patrick is a nobody? No one takes him into account.

“You planning to embarrass yourself in another tournament?” Tashi’s voice crept up behind him. “You know that if he competes against me, I’ll win, right?” he asked. Overconfident. Always overconfident. “I know you’re ranked 243rd, and he’s ranked 8th. It doesn’t matter who wins this, you’ll still be a loser, and he’ll still get a Nike campaign. They asked us about a winter collection.” She was trying to hurt him. He couldn’t understand why it was so important to her—to hurt him. But he thinks only two people can: you and Art. Tashi isn’t on that list. He doesn’t think Tashi comes close to being on that list.

He thinks Tashi is beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful woman he knows. Maybe you’re the most beautiful woman he knows. He doesn’t really know- it’s blurry and messy. But hearing you moan or say his name softly, sweetly, is the most beautiful thing he knows. So maybe it’s the same thing. Maybe he measures beauty differently than he did four years ago. “Sounds good. I promise to buy a jacket with his name on it. Do you need anything, Tashi?” he tried to end the conversation. He didn’t want her to see the pathetic training session he was having with himself against a wall. “I don’t know, maybe to ask why you’re here?” She shrugged like it was obvious. Like she cared about the useless existence of Patrick Zweig. Like he mattered. “I’m competing, just like Art-” he started, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but Art’s not here. How is it that you are?” she cut off the monologue he was about to throw at her. “I don’t know why Art isn’t here, Tashi.” If it were possible, his eyes would roll so far back into his skull they’d get stuck there. “Because he’s at a funeral, obviously. She’s your girlfriend last time I checked- how are you not there?” The furrow of her brows showed she was genuinely confused. But now he stood in front of her, terrified too. Whose funeral? Who the fuck died? “What are you talking about?” he muttered, feeling his heart pound. Every muscle in his body tensed. “(Y/N)’s mom passed away, Patrick. How am I the first one telling you this?” She doesn’t understand. But he does. And right now he hates Tashi. And Art, who’s with you. And himself- mostly himself- because after four years, he’s still a selfish bastard who only cares about himself. . . . You’re not crying, and you suspect it bothers your father. He looks at you strangely. As if you’re making things difficult. Because this is an event. A funeral is an event, and you need to behave the way you're expected to behave. You just can’t seem to do it. Because you don’t think you have a warm spot in your heart for the woman you called Mom for the pathetic 24 years of your existence. To anyone else, it would sound sad. Pathetic. You don’t say it out loud very often. You don’t want to make things harder for anyone. You don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. You considered cutting an onion before you left, just to save yourself from the weird looks from the extended family you haven’t seen in years, but Art fucking Donaldson hasn’t left you alone since the second he heard she kicked the bucket.

His hand held yours like his life depended on it. Maybe yours. Someone’s life depended on it. Definitely not your mother’s. She’s dead. You wonder if the need for sacrifice died with her. You wonder if your constant need to make everyone feel comfortable all the time died with her too. It’s exhausting. You wish you could be less like that. Your hand is sweating into his. He probably thinks it’s disgusting. He probably doesn’t like it. You miss the time when your whole world was making sure Art Donaldson was comfortable. His parents hugged you, and you’re pretty sure his mom left lipstick on you. He’s been staring at you for an hour straight. Maybe two. Maybe your whole life. You can’t know; it’s an emotional day.

You try to move your hand away from his; there’s no way this is comfortable for him. He grips harder. Doesn’t let go. Doesn’t leave you alone. Your father says the Kaddish, everyone responds "Amen" and cries. You don’t. Maybe you really are crazy, like she hinted at a few times when she got drunk and called you at an inappropriate hour. Maybe you really are the reason for every problem she ever had. Maybe you didn’t sacrifice enough. Maybe you didn’t love enough.

Maybe you just don’t know how to love, and then it makes sense that you don’t deserve to be loved. Not really. Not unconditionally. Not like your father loved your mother. Not like Art loves Tashi. Not like Patrick loved Tashi. Not like Patrick hated you. Maybe he still does- sometimes you’re not sure. Patrick isn’t here. Art’s hand keeps holding you both steady. You finally cry.

When you walk into the house, your extended family is already there. Uncles, cousins- you think you saw the grandfather of someone your father goes to synagogue with. All you wanted was to sit quietly in your room for a second. Take off the heels and the damn dress. You felt the thong digging into your ass. That’s what happens when you let a dead woman dictate what you'll wear to her funeral. A woman who had conditions for her own funeral. Who told you what dress to wear. What underwear to put on. Sometimes you wonder how many years ahead you’ll keep dragging her advice, her judgmental looks. The tongue clicks. The general dissatisfaction with the world, wrapped in fake smiles. Maybe that’s where you learned to fake so well. To fake who you are down to your core. To fake and fake until you don’t know what you want or from whom.

“You disappeared. I figured you’d be here.” Art walks into your childhood room like it’s his. Like he always did. “You’re still here?” you mutter, and he hands you a plate of food he picked up from downstairs. “Where else would I be?” he sighs. As if that’s the only answer that makes sense to him. As if you two were in touch. As if you know anything about his fancy life or he knows anything about your painfully mediocre one. “In Atlanta,” you answer and place the plate on the nightstand beside you. “When’s your flight?” you ask, not looking at him as he sits next to you on the bed like he did before the funeral.

“I can stay-” he starts quietly. You know he’s looking at you, almost begging you to see that he means it. "Ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself, but you know he hears. “When’s your flight, Art?” you ask, your voice steadier, looking at him with an almost hollow expression. One that doesn’t show any emotion or maybe shows all emotions at once. A look that scared him. A look that worried you. A look you’ll think about a month from now. You’ll sit at home, writing the structure for one of your classes, and you’ll think about Art Donaldson and the empty look you gave him when your mother died. Embarrassing. Everything is so fucking embarrassing.

“Tonight,” he sums up. You glance at your phone’s clock. Sixteen missed calls from Patrick. Instinct says to call him. But it’s 6 p.m., and his first match is at 8 in the morning. “Don’t you need to pack?” He rolls his eyes, ignoring your attempt to dismiss him. “What are you doing?” he asks quietly. “Excuse me?” you snap back, not understanding the direction of the conversation. “Now. In general. What are you doing?” His gaze surrounds you from every direction. You can’t look anywhere that isn’t Art Donaldson. He reflects off the damn mirrors in this room. “Trying to sit quietly in my room, clearly,” you reply stiffly.

You remember how all your conversations used to be warm. Soft. You’d talk about dreams. About books you’d write. About tournaments he’d win. You’d kiss. He’d touch you. You’d touch him. There was curiosity. There was love. Or at least that thing you’ve spent years believing was love. The thing where you become exactly what he wants and needs and disappear when he needs something else, something better. That was the unwritten contract between you. Lately, you’ve been thinking that’s the unwritten contract between you and everyone you know. A depressing thought. You try not to dwell on it too much. On the way you please people in your suffering. Please in deprivation. Please to the point of tears, and more tears, and more tears. You try not to think about all the dreams you had when Art Donaldson -maybe- loved you. You try not to think about the joy of life. About how much you loved seeing him happy, how much you loved making him happy. How much you loved being responsible for his happiness. "Why isn’t Patrick here?" He quietly asked what he really wanted to know. He wanted to understand if you’d broken up. If you were alone. If he could laugh and say he told you so. That he told you; you had no business being with Patrick Zweig. "Because he has a match tomorrow at 8 a.m., and he trained too hard to miss it," you said it coolly, without breaking eye contact. As if it made perfect sense that you hadn’t told your boyfriend, the person who was supposed to be your confidant, that your mother had died. "He didn’t want to come?" Art continued, confused. Ice. That look again. The immediate shift in his mood confuses you, but it doesn’t throw you off balance. You know him. For the past four years, every time he’s seen you, all he’s tried to do is confuse you, to knock you off balance. It never works, at least not in his eyes.

"Hedoesn’tknow," you mumbled the words as if they were one. Quietly, knowing that what you’d done didn’t make sense. Wasn’t reasonable. Wasn’t acceptable. Didn’t fit into the unspoken rules of a relationship. "You’re an idiot." He stood up and started pacing back and forth. "A fucking moron, really." He was angry, as if he was the one who hadn’t been told your mother had died. If it were up to you, he wouldn’t have known either, but his mother told him. Whatever. "I’ll tell him when he gets back from the tournament, it’s not a big deal," you said and shrugged. Art stopped and looked at you like you’d just fallen from the moon. Like you were some natural phenomena. "If you did that to me, I’d kill you. If you thought some shitty tennis tournament in shitty Atlanta was more important to me than you, I’d murder you and then die myself. I don’t like what you have with Zweig, God knows I hate it, but how could you not tell him? Do you even understand the concept of a relationship?" He let out this Shakespearean monologue while looking at you with a half-pitying, half-angry expression. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he thought you were Tashi.

"Art, I’m not your problem. Do you remember that?" You didn’t know what else to say, so you said the only thing you knew for sure in a defeated voice. Art Donaldson was not a part of your life. "You’ll always be my problem. You should know that by now," he said, half despairing at himself. As if wondering how you both got here. As if wondering if there was anywhere else you could be. . . . Patrick was beyond frustrated. He won his first match after two and a half hours, barely. It didn’t come easy. All he could think about was how nothing came easy for him anymore, and how everything used to be so easy.

The thought that you didn’t tell him your mother had died, and then didn’t answer his calls either, hovered over his head like a rain cloud focused solely on him. He didn’t know how to approach it. He knew why you didn’t tell him- because unlike what Art thought, unlike what your dead mother thought, he knew you. He knew how you thought. He understood the mechanics behind your strange decisions. He hated that he had become someone you had to overthink things for.

That afternoon, he went to one of the courts and caught Tashi and Art’s practice. They both saw him sit down. He thinks it made Art play better. He wondered if Art imagined his face when he hit the ball. He thinks he does. Because when Tashi checkmated his relationship with Art, Patrick wrapped his life around yours as if that was how it was always meant to be, while everyone involved knew it wasn’t. While everyone involved knew that you had embroidered Art’s name on bags from the moment you learned how to stitch. While everyone knew that Art Donaldson didn’t know how to exist in the world without you.

So, Patrick took you for himself. Most of the time, he didn’t think of it as something technical, as a game he was playing against Art. Most of the time, he looked at you, really looked at you. Most of the time, he tried to make you laugh and understand the world through your own eyes. Most of the time, he tried to protect you from complex emotions you couldn’t express, from hunger. He tried to protect you from yourself, the way you protect some helpless creature. In some way, you were. In his eyes, you were helpless.

When you first started sleeping together, Patrick treated you with kid gloves, in a way he had never treated anyone before. Like you were porcelain. Like you could shatter and crumble in his hands at any moment. You had gestures and habits, ones you thought no one noticed. But he always saw. You tried to please everyone all the time. You switched from a smile to a sad look in a second, for the sake of the feelings of whoever was in front of you, for the sake of what you thought they wanted from you.

But Patrick didn’t want anything from you. He wanted to give you all the orgasms that you missed and for you to eat at least three meals a day. Some days, he didn’t know how to make you do it. Some days, he raised his voice. When he was desperate, he cried. When he was really desperate, he asked you to eat for him, so that he would be happy. That was the easy way, it always worked. He exploited a destructive mechanism someone had embedded in you (he suspects your dead mother) and used it to get you to do something he thought would be good for you. He wanted to throw up.

Art was playing well. He was playing against Tashi in front of him, and he was playing well. Too well. Patrick no longer thinks he can beat him. Not something he would ever say out loud. He wanted to ask him how you were. He didn’t want to admit that you hadn’t answered his million calls. He didn’t want to admit that he was a loser who didn’t know where his life was going. Not when Art had been with you at the fucking funeral of your awful mother. He hated that woman with everything he had. More than he hated his own father, and that had to be some kind of record. Art looked at him for a moment. The moment passed. Patrick thinks Art won. He’s not sure. . . . Patrick finds Tashi alone in the evening. Completely alone in the middle of the lobby restaurant. She suddenly looks small and fragile to him, holding a drink he can guess is whiskey or cognac or whatever it is that Tashi Duncan drinks these days. He doesn’t know anything about her anymore. Only that a few years ago, he thought he loved her, and in return, she took his best friend away from him.

When he stands in front of her, he is like a streetlight- impossible to ignore. It dawns on him, belatedly, that he is wearing her shirt. She must think he’s pathetic. He feels pathetic. He doesn’t think he cares about being pathetic in front of her. Because he sees her for what she is right now, and she is miserable. She doesn’t have much in life. She clings to what Art has. Which is fucked up on so many levels, but that’s reality. They both cling to things they shouldn’t be clinging to, and his eyes wander to her ring. Massive. Flashy. A bit like her, like the woman she tries to be when she’s not half-drunk and pathetic in front of him.

He places his hand over hers just as she’s about to take a sip of her drink, stopping her. He doesn’t know what he wants. Not from her, not from himself, but his lips find hers within seconds, and she doesn’t resist. He knew she wouldn’t resist- he saw it on her face. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Maybe more. And what a thought that is- that Tashi Duncan wants Patrick Zweig more.

They exit through the back door of the restaurant, go up to his room. Naturally. As if more than four years haven’t passed since the last time he was with Tashi. He wishes he knew what he was doing; it would make this easier. But it’s not particularly difficult, either- otherwise, he wouldn’t be pressing Tashi against the wall. Otherwise, his lips wouldn’t be kissing every inch of her body he can reach.

Hunger. Patrick feels hunger. It’s the only emotion coursing through him as he looks at her. He thinks he wants to hurt Art. He thinks about how Art was there for you at your mother’s funeral, and that was supposed to be his role, but you didn’t call him. So he strips Tashi of her shirt. Only to discover she isn’t wearing a bra. He compares her to you every few seconds. You never go without a bra. He can barely convince you to just be at home, without clothes, without defenses. Just be. He doesn’t think you’re capable of that. He doesn’t think you know how to feel at ease. That worries him more than he’s willing to admit.

“You’re thinking about her?” Tashi’s voice is almost angry as she kisses his neck. “No.” A lie. A complete lie. He can only think about you. He realized that a few years ago and stopped fighting it. You and tennis, as if that’s all there is in the world. What else even exists? What else even matters? “You’re a terrible liar,” she mutters against him, and somehow, the ugly shirt he’s pretty sure was Tashi’s -he doesn’t even know why he wore it- ends up on the floor. ‘You’re not thinking about Art?’ he should have asked, but he’s not here to ask questions. He’s here because he’s angry. At Art, at you, at Tashi for telling him, at the world. So he’s here. And they’re both shedding more pieces of their clothing and maybe their souls, because what they’re doing now has no way back. No forgiveness. They are bad people. Patrick knows it. Tashi knows it.

And after he wrings a heavy moan from her, one that follows an orgasm, she quietly tells him she thinks Art loves you. Patrick stares at the gaudy ring stuck on her finger, the ring that, in another universe, Art would have placed on yours. “Why do you think that?” Patrick asks softly, because what else is left to do? “I didn’t want him to go to the funeral. I wanted him to stay and train, but he went anyway,” she mumbles. Patrick says nothing, just nods. He would have done the exact same thing, and that’s why you didn’t call him. He would have come. Despite the dreams. Despite the tennis. Despite everything.

And Patrick remembers all the times Art called you sweet. All the times Art never wanted to tell him anything about what happened between you two. All the times Art didn’t want to talk about you. And it wasn’t because it wasn’t good. It wasn’t because other girls were better. It was because there was depth Patrick can only put his finger on now. So much happened beneath the surface- so much that Art had no words to describe it. So much that Art drowned in his own emotions. Repressed them and kept them bottled up until he found something shiny to bury his feelings in. Until he found Tashi.

And Tashi is safe. With Tashi, you can’t get lost. With Tashi, there’s a plan. With you, he just has to be himself. He doesn’t know how to be anything else. And that’s terrifying.

For the first time, Patrick understands Art in absolute terms. He lies in a hotel room, stroking the hair of a woman who isn’t you, and understands everything there is to understand about life. Mainly, he understands again- that you are so fucking sweet. And that there’s no way he can win. . . .

You're going over tomorrow’s lesson when you hear the door open. Without turning around, you already know it’s Patrick. Who else could it be? His scrutinizing gaze doesn’t waver from you, even when he says nothing. “How was it?” You find yourself breaking the silence, lifting your head toward him with a smile. He doesn’t smile back. He looks exhausted. The message Art sent you lingers in the back of your mind; He’s cheating on you. -Art Donaldson- Art has his reasons to make something like this up, but you doubt he’d be cruel enough to lie about it. Not while you’re mourning your horrible mother. No matter how angry he is at you. No matter how angry he is at Patrick. You don’t think Art is capable of that. You want to believe he isn’t capable of that. Then again, you also want so badly to believe Patrick wouldn’t do it. That Patrick wouldn’t cheat on you. That he wouldn’t find someone prettier, better, more cheerful and do all the things with her that he probably can’t do with you. You don’t want to think about the possibility that you haven’t sacrificed enough. That you didn’t try as hard as you were taught to. Your fault, your fault, your fault. You don’t want to believe it’s your fault. That another love will slip through your fingers, as if you’re trying to hold water. So, you choose to say nothing, because even if it’s true, even if he was with someone else, he came home. And home isn’t big, to say the least, not grand, not dazzling. But he came back. He’s right in front of you. You’re not alone. He knows you. He knows such ugly parts of you that sometimes you’re scared to acknowledge they even exist. He knows what you refuse to recognize in yourself, and sometimes he reminds you that you deserve more than you think. Which is a bizarre thought in itself. But you let him think it, you let him believe it enough for him to believe it for the both of you. “I lost in the third round. To Peter Michelson,” he says shortly, and you nod. “No choice but to make a voodoo doll with Peter Michelson’s face,” you try to joke. He usually laughs. At least smiles. He does neither. He just stands there like a block of wood, with the same expression. “I’m sorry you lost. I wish I’d been there,” you mumble, not knowing what else to say. “What about you? Anything special happen this week?” he asks, his gaze never leaving you.

Now you could tell him your mother died, but there’s no way to say it without it turning into a fight about the fact that you didn’t tell him the moment you found out. “No, nothing special, you know. My routine is boring.” You shrug and shift your focus back to the lesson you’re supposed to teach tomorrow. The Great Gatsby. A shitty book. “Nothing special at all?” he presses. “If you count the fact that Mr. Grace forgot to put in his dentures on Monday -again- and I had to sub for his class, then no.” It’s a half-lie because the thing with Mr. Grace and his dentures did happen, just not this week. Most of this week, you were at your parents’ house, helping your father deal with shiva and all the people who came by. He was completely heartbroken.

You see Patrick shake his head slightly and close his eyes. You know this is something he does when he’s trying to restrain himself. When he doesn’t want to lash out. When something is bothering him, and he doesn’t want it to turn into the biggest fight in the world. He has a bad history with fights that spiral out of control. “No one was born? No relatives died? I don’t know, maybe the woman who gave birth to you?” he says, his piercing gaze back on you. “Shit,” you mumble. Because what else is there to say in this situation? “Yeah, shit,” he stays exactly where he is, making you feel like a child being scolded. Like you dropped a lollipop and won’t be getting a new one.

“I’m sorry-” you start. “My mom isn’t dead; your mom is dead. I think I’m the one who’s sorry.” Patrick hated when you apologized. He said it was irrational with you. That you apologized more than was normal and more than people around you deserved. “Patrick,” you sigh, scrunching your nose as you try to think of a good way to explain it. “I really need to understand this, (Y/N). When were you planning on telling me your living mother was no longer alive? Another month? Two months? Two years? What was the timeline in that head of yours?” His words drip with sarcasm, like the way he used to talk to you before you became you and Patrick. Before you learned to love who he was and before he started treating you like you weren’t the worst person in the world.

“I didn’t want you to withdraw from Atlanta. You trained for it so hard.” You sigh again, quietly. This time, you’re the one closing your eyes, not wanting to look at him- and in doing so, you miss the fact that he moves toward you in giant strides. “I wish you’d told me, Little Dove. I wish I’d been with you instead of being there.” His hands cup your face as he crouches in front of you, looking up to catch your eyes. “I’m sor-” You stop yourself mid-sentence when you see his displeased expression. “How do you feel?” he asks, and you shrug in response. Because what you feel isn’t something you can say out loud, not even to Patrick. It’s not okay to feel relieved. A lot of sadness, of course. But also, relief.

“Tell me,” he insists. He has a habit of knowing the things you don’t want to say. He can look at your face and catch the slight twitch of your left eyebrow to understand what you’re feeling. To see what you try so hard to hide. You can’t beat him at this. You can’t lie to him, not too much. Not about your feelings. Not when he spent years of his life learning what to hate about you, and then a few more years learning to love it. “She wasn’t the nicest woman in the world,” you murmur quietly, like you’re confessing the most forbidden secret. Like it’s a secret that could start a world war. Like Patrick would tell someone.

“She didn’t like me.” Patrick lets out a dry chuckle, his eyes glassy as if he’s remembering something. “She used to call me Art all the time and then correct herself, like it was an accident, but she did it on purpose. So I’d know she wanted me to be Art.” His jaw tightens slightly. You can see the anger and frustration behind the fake lightness in his tone. “I’m sorry,” you say because you don’t know what else to say, and he sighs. His large hands wrap around you in an almost crushing hug. Almost making it hard to breathe.

But that’s how Patrick is. Everything he feels is out in the open. Everything he thinks, he says. Everything he wants, he does. And most of the time, he wants to be present in your life, which is ridiculous because there is no one more present in your life than him. He still acts like he needs to prove something to you. “I wish you’d let me take care of you, Little Dove. It would be easier.” He whispers into your hair, not letting go for a second. You can almost feel him thinking, almost see him guessing what might help you. “I know you care about me,” you say, shifting slightly to look at him, to show him that he doesn’t need to prove anything. That you’re okay.

“Did you eat?” he suddenly asks, stepping back slightly, scanning you, then moving toward the half-empty fridge. “What did you eat?” he follows up. “I don’t know, Patrick. I don’t keep a journal,” you roll your eyes. “Don’t give me that bullshit. What did you eat, (Y/N)?” He doesn’t let up. “A sandwich,” you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Since this morning?” His eyes stay locked on you. “Patrick, my mother just died. Can we not focus on what I eat for one second? It’s exhausting,” you roll your eyes and cross your arms, turning your face to the side as he steps toward you and nods. . . . "What do you want to focus on?" he asked. Patrick felt guilty. He looked at you and saw nothing but the fact that just a few days ago, he had been with Tashi. While you were mourning your unbearable mother, he was busy fucking Tashi in a fancy hotel room, at a tournament he lost and that Art Donaldson would probably win. "You," your voice was small as you looked at him, almost pleading for a break from the interrogation and the anger. He hated when you made him the center of your focus, when you tried to do what you thought he wanted you to do. So he nodded and placed a small kiss on the crown of your head, knowing exactly what he needed to do.

Patrick felt like a man on a mission as he dropped to his knees in front of you. "Pat-" you tried to protest, to tell him he didn’t have to. You always tried. As if going down on you was a burden to him, as if all it would take for him to spend a lifetime just like this was for you to fucking ask. "Baby, can you take these off for me?" It was a question, but there was no question mark at the end. Not in that tone. Not when he was looking up at you like that, completely in control of the situation.

So you slid your pants down slowly, trying to hold on to the last bit of control slipping away with every second he stared at you like that. He took care of your underwear himself. Leaving you bare in front of him. "Fuck, Pat," you mumbled, closing your eyes for a moment, leaning back against the wall, making him look up at you one last time with a smirk stretched across his face. And then he got to work.

His lips explored you like you were his source of oxygen. Like his natural place was buried under you, his mouth inside you. "Baby, I’d eat you for the rest of my life. Every day. Every fucking day." His grip on your thigh was ruthless. Patrick felt like he was holding on for dear life, like this was all there was left to do. Like it was all he knew. "Sweet fucking pussy," he kept mumbling into you, until his face was coated with his own spit and your slick. He was ready to take it all, everything you gave him. In these moments, everything that was yours became his, and the little that was his became yours.

So he was milking it. He licked your clit in slow, agonizing strokes- for both of you. He took his time. The euphoria would come, but he was going to enjoy it until it did. Your small whimpers made him growl directly into you. "Patrick, Patrick, Patrick," like a prayer. He felt it. He felt divinity in all of it. He sped up and slowed down and sped up and slowed down. Merciless to the near-sobs escaping from you. "You're so sweet, baby. Do you want to come?" And he wasn’t asking if you wanted to come for him, because he wanted you to come for yourself. Because he wanted you to always, always come for yourself. He wanted to be a vessel. He wanted to erase all the stupid patterns in your head and make sure every orgasm you had was yours and for you. "Patrick." He thought that was the only thing you were capable of saying coherently, and he was fine with that. He was selfish enough to be satisfied if his name was the only word you could say forever.

And when you came with a moan he had learned to recognize and nearly worship, he told you how good you were. How rare you were. That he was yours and that he would always take care of you. He looked up at you from below, saw the tears slipping down your face, and pressed another kiss to your thigh. One that emphasized the word always. Because he didn’t think he could ever let this go. He was too selfish to ever let this go. . . . Art peeked through the door of the room every few seconds, searching for you among the guests. At this point, he didn’t even bother lying to himself about it. Because he didn’t know what else was left for him besides admitting the truth to himself- things he was never able to admit before. Lately, he’d been thinking a lot about the nights he used to lay beside you. When you didn’t even fuck. When you just lay in that rickety twin bed in his dorm room. He was willing to take that. He was willing not to fuck you if it meant you’d hold him again. More than that, he was willing not to fuck anyone ever again. But you were too sweet, you wouldn’t let him go through life without sex. The thought made him chuckle for a second. But he was nervous. So fucking nervous.

He was about to marry Tashi, and she didn’t cross his mind even once. He accidentally saw her dress, even though he told her that he hadn’t really noticed it was there. He knew she would be a stunning bride. That months from now, people would still be talking about Tashi Duncan in a wedding dress. He knew people would envy him, he knew everything. His mind knew everything.

But all he could think about was what kind of wedding dress you would have chosen. He was almost sure it would be something less extravagant; you’d try to draw as little attention as possible. But the Art he was today wouldn’t have let you. He would’ve told you that you deserved all the attention the universe had to offer. That you deserved to be seen. He hated himself for how long it had taken him to realize that. Only when you truly weren’t there. Only when you belonged to someone else. Only when you chose Patrick Zweig of all people.

Patrick Zweig, who hated you with every fiber of his being. Patrick Zweig, who Art was almost certain had cheated on you with Tashi. It should have hurt him much more than it did. But all he cared about was figuring out if this would be the thing that made you get up and leave. You had to know you deserved better. That if not him- if not Art, the guy you both knew you loved with all your heart- then at least someone who didn’t want anyone else. That was the bare minimum you deserved. For years, he’d wondered if he had something to do with how little you thought you deserved, with how low your standards were.

He convinced his mother- who probably loved you even more than he did- to take upon herself convincing you to come to his wedding. Which was almost sadistic of him. Maybe masochistic. Maybe both. But he had to see you. He hadn’t seen you since your mother’s funeral. Sometimes he dreamed about that day and how his hand held yours, he wanted it again and again and again. He wanted everyone to die if it meant he could hold you like that again. If it gave him an excuse.

He noticed that everything about you required an excuse. It hadn’t been like that when you were his. Except you were never really his. He didn’t even understand why it had been so complicated- why you hadn’t told him that’s what you wanted (though he could have guessed). And more than anything, he didn’t understand why he hadn’t known what he wanted. Why it hadn’t been clear to him that you were his person. That you knew the deepest parts of him.

He saw you walk in and texted you, almost begging you to come to the room where he was. You could tell him to go to hell, but that wasn’t your style. No, you were sweet. So sweet that all you did was knock on the door and push it open. Looking at him while he already had his eyes on your little black dress. While he was already studying the red nail polish. While he was already focusing on the lipstick he so badly wanted to wipe off of you.

“Your mother asked me to prepare a speech. Was that your idea?” you asked. There was no coldness in your voice, which made him happy. You stepped closer and started fixing his tie. He wanted to close his eyes, but at the same time, he wanted to see you. To remember you like this; in a little black dress, in heels, standing in front of him, helping him with his tie. “What can I say? You’re my best friend,” he said. And it wasn’t a lie, just as much as it wasn’t the truth. “That’s really sad, Art,” you said, probably referring to the last four years you spent apart. “Are you saying you have a better friend than me?” he asked, hoping you’d deny it because a yes might make him break down crying.

“It’s a mediocre speech. I didn’t know what to say at your wedding,” you sighed, confessing a secret. “Saying you don’t want me to get married would’ve been a good start,” he said, taking a risk. Because he calculated the timing, and you were late, so he had a very short window for this risk. “Don’t be ridicul—” you started, quietly. “If you tell me not to do this, I won’t get married. Tell me not to do it. Tell me it’ll be okay. That we’ll be okay,” he whispered. Not looking away from you.

The silence in the room was deafening, and the chuckle that escaped him was bitter. Fake. He felt pathetic and small and miserable, and maybe he was all those things because he never knew what he wanted in time. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. Not knowing what else to add, because what was left to add? He could see the wetness in your eyes. He knew how unfair he was being. “I’m sorry,” he echoed. He didn’t think he had ever told you that before, but he really, truly was. “Did you write something good about me?” he added. “That you’re my best friend. And that my soul will always love yours,” you said, letting a single tear fall as his rough hand wiped it away with whatever gentleness was still left in him.

It was a nice speech. Everyone applauded. Art cried. . . .

Here we are- the second part of So Sweet! Hope it turned out good enough. Thanks for stopping by and reading what I write, it means a lot. Let me know what you think. Love you guys, stay sweet! 💕

#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #challengers fic #challengers #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut #so sweet

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gimmebackmyskeeball · 5 months ago

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Just friends? Fuck no.

author’s note: I love enemy!jj and I’m a hoe for an enemies you lover arc but I just want me a flirty best friend jj so bad so I had to write his headcanons (?). I don’t even know what this is actually. There’s hc and small little blurbs all together so it’s definitely a little longer than a blurb but not a one shot either. I’m confused but I hope ur not. Enjoy!

summary: just some hc(?) about best friend!jj !!

pairing: best friend!jj maybank x pogue!reader

First of all, you can’t convince me that this man isn’t clingy with his best friend. And honestly not just with you and Kie but with Jb and Pope too. So picture this, divorced parents, your dad lives in another country with his new wife and your mom lives with your sister whilst you stay in the château. Your best friend John B offered you a room after his father made it clear that he wasn’t going to be back soon if never. So now you’re practically living in the château, stopping by your own house to check on your mom and your sister every couple of days. That also means you’re practically living in the same house with the one and only Jj Maybank.

At that point you were familiar with the lines such as; “How can you wake up that early? What’s the deal with that?” or “Y/N open the door! I don’t care that you’re changing, I left my lighter in there!”. He would wake up in the spare room with his messy hair and in his John B’s shorts. No shirt, obviously. He has to show off those muscles. “Yeah, you know, this is what happens when you’re god’s favorite.” He act’s like this is totally from his genes and just basically from carrying stuff to help his dad and shit but his dirty little secret is that he works out for it. Not a lot but enough to keep him in shape.

He’d walk around the château looking for some kind of food, any kind. He’d see Jb standing in the hallway, fresh out of shower, hair wet, of course he wouldn’t miss the chance to make some kinda flirty comment. “Hey, Jb. Morning shower? Too bad, wish you had invited me.” John would scoff, rolling his eyes, “Stop saying shit like that, Jj.” But Jj being the Jj he is, of course he wouldn’t stop. “Cmon gimme a hug, babe.” “Get away from me.”

“Don’t be shy.” He’d playfully caress his shoulder, with a smile on his face. “I’m literally throwing up in my mouth.” John took a step back, replicating gagging noises. “Cmon, John B. Don’t hide the infamous John D from me.” The brunette boy would pick up a pillow from the couch, shoving it right in the middle of his face before speaking, “Dude, you creep me the fuck out.” In that moment you’d walk in door from the porch, you’d woke up early to enjoy to morning breeze because you knew you’d be burning and melting and suffering thanks to Jb who kept putting off getting his AC fixed. “There she is! Hey, peach.” he’d say smiling, walking over to you before grabbing your face and giving your cheek multiple wet sloppy kisses.

“Gross.” you’d mumble. You’re tripping if you think this boy wouldn’t call you some kinda cheesy lame nickname like ‘peach’ or ‘sugar’ or ‘cupcake’ that’s suddenly music to your ears when he says it with that crooked southern accent of his. “Okay, rude. You lookin’ mad cute today. Don’t wanna kiss?” you pushed his face away, not able to stop the smile growing on your face.

Since when did you pushed him? You made the blonde mad. He’d wrap his arms around your neck, placing his head on top of yours. He’d pull you towards him until your back was completely leaning against his chest. He was heavy, you had to give him that. He was hot too. Not that way. I mean, yes, that way, he was hot, everyone knew that, including him. But he was the type of guys whose body heat was always high. The heat from how he wraps his arms around you, hot. He’s hot. In every way, shape or form. “Jay, get off! You’re hot!” He’d raise an eyebrow, pretending to be impressed by your sudden compliment that he knew was not a compliment, “Oh, I’m aware. But too bad I’m not gonna get off of ya.”

Definitely the kind of guy that would get offended if you told someone he wasn’t your boyfriend, “No partners over! This is my house and y’all are using it as a motel six!” John yelled to Kiara who had just been walked in by the owner of that very house. “That’s not fair! Y/N and Jj stay here all the time!” Kiara bit back. You crossed your arms over your chest, furrowing your brows, “What does that even mean?” Kiara sighed, “It means that boyfriend and girlfriends do stay here together and that I’m allowed to too!” you gave her a disgusted look, okay, to be completely honest, it was kinda cute she said that but you couldn’t act like you find it cute. Obviously. “We are not!” you whined. Jj shot you a look, “I mean, you don’t have to say it like that…” he frowned. The man actually frowned.

“Huh?” you were genuinely confused, was he upset? “You didn’t had to sound so aggressive about it…”

Sometimes he’d come up to you in the middle of the night, tv noises coming from the living room, meaning Jb wasn’t asleep either. “Peach?” you saw his figure on your doorstep,“Yeah, Jay?” you sat up on your bed. “I can’t sleep.” he walked over to you, sitting on your bed. “Why?”

He pouted, “Hot.” Oh how the tables have turned, “Thank you.” you spoke as he’d grin, scooting over more to your side. “I always appreciate a self aware girl.” “Okay, back off playboy.”

You scooted back, closer to the head of your bed now. “I’m just being honest.” he kept moving to get closer to you as much as he can. “Well, keep your honest ass over there.” you gently pushed his knee, trying with everything you have in you to keep your distance.

Sometimes you’d wonder if you were really only best friends. You knew how you felt about him but this is how he was with everybody, so he was ridiculously confusing. All the long weed sessions in the Twinkie, the way he’d beg to be the one rubbing your sunscreen, how he’d get visibly happy every time you’d pick him to sit next to on the couch. He is cheesy. And he isn’t embarrassed of it. If anything he knows he’s cheesy and I feel like he’s proud of it.

He’d yawn and gently stretch his arms, one of them slowly going over your shoulders and he’d end up caressing your arm. You know what he’s doing, he knows you know what he’s doing. Is he ever going to stop? No one knows. The way he’d rest his hands (definitely and totally not gripping them like you’re gonna jump off the bike and run away) on your thighs on red lights whenever you’re on his bike for him to drop you off for you to see your mom.

How he’d wrap his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder despite your whines about how you want him off of you. It’s just him, it’s just Jj Maybank and you don’t know if he’ll change or not. Not that you want him to, anyway.

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asktheritochampion · 10 days ago

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Soo... What's your true opinion on Teba, Tulin, and Saki? :)

Why are you so intent on ruining every half decent relation I have and obliterating my dignity in the process?

Tulin is the only Rito in the past hundred years who has been able to harness the winds as I can. Not only I am unbelievably proud of the kid, but this ability we - and only we - share, connects us. I wish to train him everything I know. I feel immensely protective of him and would give my very life to protect him – not that I wouldn’t for most people I suppose. I had a brother once by blood; Tulin is more of a brother to me than he ever was.

The wind connects our souls, and we are both her children.

Teba is the most phenomenal Rito Warrior I have ever met, past or present.

The intensity of his training is admirable, even to me. While he may never have mastered the skies, his archery skills are so advanced that I believe that if he didn’t hold back, he would defeat even me in a contest of skill – and that is not an assumption I would award lightly.

Not only is he an unmatched warrior but a wise and confident leader to our people, and an incredible father to his son. He is the Rito all men should aspire to be. I admire him so much that it’s embarrassing. I feel pathetically desperate to make him proud and I don’t even know why.

He told me once that he would be proud to call me a son and I’ve been in an emotional war with myself ever since; both wanting to cling onto my title as his worshipped hero from the past, but also crumbling beneath the childish desire to feel wanted and loved. The notion should be terribly patronising shouldn't it?! I’m the Rito Champion and an adult grown man - I do not need a father or a parent of any kind. So why am I incapable of thinking of him without calling him dad in my mind? Why is it that all I want is for him to tell me he's proud of me all the time?! Why do I need that?! What is wrong with me?!

Then there’s Saki.

Ever since I awoke from my passing, I feel as if I’ve been broken. Consumed with grief and regret, remorse and guilt and devastation. I lost everyone I ever knew, I never even got to apologise for failing them, it has been tearing me apart from the inside out. At first she took me into her home as a kindness, as most anyone would do when a Rito turns up without a roof over their head – but even during my very worst days, in moments where I’ve wished I could have remained dead, where I’ve been unable to eat or even rise from my hammock like a useless, pathetic fool, she’s been nothing but patient and kind to me.

From day one, she’s been treating me as if I were a beloved family member - even when at my lowest moments I’ve been nothing but rude or disruptive or downright pitiful. Nobody has ever given me that kind of endless, unconditional care, not even as a chick. I pretend to myself and to any who pry that my family died in some heroic battle, but I’m not dense, I know they left me behind because I was unwanted – that perhaps I was simply too much effort for too little gain. I’m constantly afraid that one day I’ll awaken and be asked to leave because I am simply too inconvenient - too rude and unpleasant, that I’m too intense to put up with – that somehow, despite being the best, that I’m still not good enough.

I could move out at any time really, it wouldn’t take long to build my own nest. But she...she smells and sounds like the vaguest memories of my own mother and being close to her makes me feel safe in a way I’ve never felt before and I just...I don’t know how to handle going back to not feeling like that anymore.

Everything is terrible and I just... want my mom.

…And thanks to you, the lot of them will likely never speak to me again after this mortifying admission.

Now if you don't mind, I need to go and hide under a rock and never show my face in the Village again.

[6/10 🧪✨]

#revali #teba #tulin #saki #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #age of calamity #legends of zelda #rito #rito village

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little-diable · 2 years ago

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First Impression – Billy Butcher (smut)

I'm back on my Billy bullshit, y'all just have to endure it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader needs a date to a gathering, and since Hughie can't keep any of her secrets, she finds herself tangled in a fake dating situation with Billy

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, choking, fake dating, friends to lovers, the reader has awful parents

Pairing: Billy Butcher x fem!reader (2.5k words)

“Just say it.” Billy’s voice echoed through her kitchen, darkening eyes set on her frame. An expression torn between embarrassment and annoyance tugged on her features, forcing a sigh to leave (y/n). She momentarily turned her back on Billy, allowing her eyes to flutter close while she took a deep breath. “C’mon doll, spit it out, I don’t have much time eh?”

“Fucking Hughie.” The words left her like a whisper, making a breeze into a storm so furious no people surrounding her were safe. “Look, just forget it, okay? I’ll figure it out.”

“No, that’s not the way we do it, and you know it.” A somewhat amused smirk began to widen on Billy’s lips, hand running along his beard as he kept watching her. It felt like he was interrogating her, which he kind of was, though not because of any supe mess they were tangled in, but because Hughie couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut.

“Fine. I need a date for a family thing, I’m done with being looked down on because I apparently can’t keep a man for long.” Billy’s raspy chuckles flushed another wave of embarrassment through her, body finding shelter on the kitchen chair vis-a-vis his. Billy studied her for a few more moments, dragging out the passing by seconds he clearly found enjoyment in.

“And you want me to be your date? Could have just said so, love.” He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest. (Y/n) fought against the angry groan wanting to leave her, making a silent promise that she’d strangle Hughie the next time she crossed paths with him.

“I don’t want you as my date.” She stared him down, eyes challenging his without needing to speak any further words. Both knew that Billy had her trapped, both knew that Hughie knew all about the emotions both harboured, emotions not shared with one another once.

“Why don’t I believe that? But, you sure you want your parents to meet me?” Amusement dripped from Billy’s words, slowly rising to his feet to round the table, hand finding her chin before (y/n) could pick up on his movements. “I wouldn’t make the best impression as your boyfriend, would I?”

“You’re a fucking cunt, Billy, but Hughie’s right, you’re my best shot.” His thumb ran along her lower lip, tongue kissing his teeth as he pondered over her words for a few beats of his calmly pounding heart.

“Well, what’s in for me then?”

……

“Fuck, doll, you want me to concentrate on anything while you wear this?” Billy’s eyes wandered down her frame, taking in the dress she was wearing, fingers aching to feel the fabric. His cock twitched in his dress pants, begging to feel her close, wanting to bury himself inside of her as she’d choke on his name.

The memory of their first night together haunted Billy whenever he got a few minutes to let his thoughts wander, caught up in the sounds she had produced, her whimpers, moans, and the sweetest call of his name. Fuck, he wasn’t proud to admit that he had fucked his hand to the thought of her whenever he needed a quick relief ever since that night – something he had been aching for since he had been fortunate enough to bury his face between her tights.

“Don’t give me that look, Butcher, otherwise we won’t make it to my parents' house.” Her chuckles left him smirking, hand taking hers as he walked her to the car, helping her inside. She didn’t pick up on the “Would that be so bad?” leaving Billy, unable to let go of the memories of (y/n)’s naked body thumping through his mind like a shot of Compound V.

The drive went by too quickly, though (y/n)‘s eyes kept flickering down to the hand placed on her knee, thumb stroking circles into the fabric. The heat his touch pushed through her left her trembling, wondering if it was humanly possible to feel whatever she was now held hostage by.

“So, you always run around dressed up like this when meeting your parents?” Billie’s teasing grin had an all too familiar touch to it, and yet she still wasn’t used to seeing it directed at her. She had always envied those that managed to gain his attention for longer than just a few seconds, painfully oblivious to the way he stared at her for minutes whenever she wasn't looking.

“You‘ll understand once you meet them.”

……

“Fuck me, how did you turn out like this with an upbringing this fancy?” Billy murmured the words against her skin, breath fanning her neck as he held her close. Their eyes wandered through their surroundings, taking in the strangers that filled her parents' mansion. (Y/n) barely recognised any of the people walking past her and Billy, not sparing the two a glance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turned around in his grasp, eyes finding his as she sipped on her champagne, hand finding the back of his neck. He looked undeniably handsome, the suit hugged his frame perfectly, an unfamiliar, welcomed view, even though (y/n) would always prefer his Hawaiian shirts.

“Oi, you know exactly what that means, eh?” His smirk left her giggling, eyes rolling as she murmured a soft “You cunt”. Their bickering was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, forcing (y/n) to meet two pairs of all too familiar, curious eyes. Her parents stared at her and Billy, all too obviously wondering who the man was.

“Mom, dad, it’s good to see you.” She shared a quick hug with them, nothing warm nor soft, perfectly matching the rather distanced relationship she and her parents had never worked on. “That’s William Butcher, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you.” Billy shook their hands before his hand found his way back to (y/n)’s waist, softly squeezing her side. He could tell that she didn’t feel comfortable, counting the passing by seconds till they could leave without her parents noticing.

“Well, it was time for you to finally settle down. Let's hope you won't mess it up this time. You two should come visit soon, now, if you’ll excuse us.” With an almost pained gaze she watched her parents disappear, blending in with the big crowd all too easily. Only the pressure Billy used to squeeze her waist managed to rip (y/n) out of her thoughts, forced to blink away her tears before she dared to meet his dark eyes. He studied her for a few seconds as if he was looking at a painting, trying to decipher symbols, trying to match meanings to colours.

Wordlessly Billy began to pull her through the crowd, fingers interlaced to keep her close. The chilly air wrapped itself around them like a translucent veil, hugging their limbs as they walked through the quiet garden. (Y/n) wasn’t used to feeling Billy close, at least not this close, and yet it felt as if she had dared to taste the forbidden fruit, already addicted, unable to work against the crush she had harboured for endless weeks by now.

“You okay?” His murmurs broke the comfortable silence, hand finding (y/n)’s warm cheek. Their eyes didn’t dare break contact, forced closer together till not even a piece of paper would fit between them. Billy had always been gentle with her, not daring to toss her around like the rest of his crew, but the way he looked at her in this very moment was unfamiliar, nothing she could pinpoint.

“I’m used to it, it keeps on hurting, but I’ll be alright. Thank you though.” A few more moments passed before Billy closed the gap between them, lips finding hers. Her surprised gasp rumbled through her, vibrating on the lips that moved in sync with hers. (Y/n)’s hands found his neck, toying with the dark hairs she had pulled that night when he had fucked her into oblivion, making her forget her own name.

“Want to get out of here, doll?”

……

The door to her apartment fell close with a thud, sound swallowed by the moan leaving (y/n) as Billy hungrily kissed her. His hands worked on her dress, letting the fabric fall to the ground, with his suit jacket following moments later. Wordlessly she guided him into her bedroom, thoughts set on the orgasms he’d push through her system that night, desperate for any kind of distraction.

Both parted to allow Billy to undress, giving (y/n)’s eyes the chance to wander up and down his frame, already aching for his touch, needing to feel his hands on her skin, between her thighs and on her chest. With only their underwear clinging to their frames, they found one another again in her bed, sharing kisses as Billy pressed her against the mattress, trapping her.

“Won’t be gentle with you tonight, doll, hope you know that.” She could only moan in response, begging him to leave his marks, to remind her of the power he held over her. Billy’s mouth found her collarbones, kissing them as his hands worked on her bra, freeing her breasts. Ever since they had slept with one another all these weeks ago, (y/n) had tried to mimic his touch whenever she was needy for another high, and yet she had never managed to take care of herself the way Billy could. His big hands worked on her breasts, tugging on her hardening nipples, sucking on them to force a few more moans out of her.

She felt his cock pressing against her thighs, aching to feel her wrapped around him, to feel her close. Though before (y/n) could even dare to think of touching him, Billy murmured her name, commanding her to hold still.

“Hands over your head where I can see them, tonight is all about you, doll.” A whine of protest left her, a sound Billy couldn’t help but chuckle at. His eyes kept staring her down as he worked on her panties, pulling them down her leg to gain access to her dripping folds. “You’re soaked, baby. All for me, huh?”

“Fuck yes, just for you.” The second his tongue brushed her folds, (y/n) threw her head back, allowing her body to produce the most sinful sounds. Her heart was racing in her chest, working on the adrenaline he pushed through her, leaving her trembling beneath him. Billy’s tongue worked in wicked ways, pushing her closer to the edge in no time as he dug his fingers into her skin to keep her close.

“How many can you take, eh? Two? Three?” (Y/n) couldn’t reply, eyes squeezed shut in order to stop herself from giving in, not yet ready to let this moment pass. Without another warning, Billy pushed two fingers into her tightness, spreading her walls like his cock would do in a few minutes. His name rolled off her tongue like a prayer, and yet the moment was too sinful for any god to hear the call, letting the devil darken the clouds above them. “Atta girl, so good for me, don’t know how I’ve managed to refrain from fucking you for the past weeks.”

She wanted to reply, wanted to tell him that she had struggled just as much, and yet no words managed to push past her lips. All (y/n) could do was choke on her gasps, on the whines he coaxed out of her, about to let go. But Billy knew her body all too well, letting go of her before she could fall from the cliff, allowing the heavenly feeling to rush through her.

“Condom?” (Y/n) pointed towards her nightstand, watching him pull the silvery packet free as she was catching her breath, trying to find words she could use to curse him, hating him from pulling away too soon. Her lust drunken eyes watched Billy free his cock, rolling the condom down his twitching cock, aligning himself with her heat.

One of his hands found her throat, keeping her pinned to the mattress as he pushed into her, forcing her walls to adjust to his girth. Both moaned in unison, foreheads pressed together in a desperate try to ground themselves. Their hearts kept skipping beats, unable to hold back as Billy started moving, building a ruthless pace that made (y/n) claw her fingernails into his shoulder.

Their bodies moved together, skin meeting with every thrust that pushed them closer to the edge. Billy’s hand tightened its grip on her throat, heightening her senses, making her blood rush in her ears. (Y/n)’s gasps for air left him smirking, finding a sick sense of satisfaction in the way he had her trapped, how easily he could guide her body like he was owning her.

“Billy,” she moaned his name, glassy eyes finding his, begging him to keep on going. “Fuck I’m close.” The sensation he had ripped from her moments ago was back, flushing through her system like a drug, pushing her towards the edge once again. He didn’t reply, kept ruthlessly snapping his hips against hers, not daring to let go just yet.

“Look at you, drunk on my cock, so desperate for me.” His words left her groaning, eyes fluttering close as her orgasm washed through her without another warning. With a smirk tugging on his lips, Billy watched her come undone, fucking her through the sensation till his own orgasm started to rock through him.

Their trembling bodies stayed connected for a few more moments, trying to catch their breaths before Billy parted from her. He got rid of the condom, wordlessly cleaning her up with a towel, careful not to put pressure on the marks his lips and fingers have left on her skin.

“You okay?” He kissed her, arm finding her waist to pull her close. She nodded her head as a content sigh left her, head placed on his chest. His fingers drew shapes into her skin, letting his thoughts wander till her soft whispers interrupted them.

“Will you leave again?” (Y/n) could still remember the morning she had woken without him near, disappearing in the middle of the night. Back then she hadn’t been able to bite down her hurt, feeling used by the man she couldn’t help but long for.

“Do you want me to?” Their eyes met as (y/n) tilted her head towards him, hand cupping his bearded cheek. She gave it a few seconds before she softly kissed him, murmuring a quiet “Never”.

#Billy Butcher smut #Billy Butcher imagine #Billy Butcher x reader #the boys

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klausysworld · 1 year ago

Note

Hiii I was wondering if you could write a klaus oneshot where the reader is enemies with klaus but klaus finds out she has cancer and is all alone and begins to fall in love with her or something like that.

I totally understand if you don’t want to do or you’re uncomfortable with it.

I’ve Got You

(This is on a very sensitive subject, please don’t read if it will upset you too much and know that if you are suffering or know someone who is, nobody is alone)

Cancer was something that had torn up Y/n’s life. It caused her to push people away all of the time. She didn’t want to be too close to anyone, not when the doctors couldn’t tell her how long she had left.

For a while they thought that the cancer had gone but she didn’t want to risk anything only for it to come back.

So she continued to be closed off, even from her own family.

Being Elena and Jeremy’s sister was hard enough, let alone growing up having cancer. Having two parents who were involved in medical care was both a dream and a nightmare. They made her live according to their timetable and their rules as to what would ‘help’. She knew, even as a child, that her family struggled much like any family would struggle to afford treatment and research and she hated herself for costing them so much.

She was kept separate from her siblings, built little to no bond with them. When her parents died, there was nobody to care for her or at least give her hope. She couldn’t afford hospital bills on her own, she had to seek out other family, like Uncle John and he did help however when he lost his life, she lost the chance of hers.

The people at the hospital knew Y/n well, they wanted to help best they could. She was supplied with medication in the form of pills to at least somewhat control the cancer and they had hope that she would be able to take part in a chemotherapy treatment program that would take place within the next year. That was as much hope as she could have to go on.

And she tried to hold onto that, she would imagine the day that they told her she would be able to live her life full without so much risk.

But at the same time, she didn’t really believe it would happen for her. Not anymore.

Sometimes she wished that a vampire would just kill her, out her out of her misery. Other times she wanted to survive everything her dreadful life threw at her and live a long healthy life to its fullest.

It was why she was so up and down with how she behaved. It was why the way she was around certain people changed so drastically, like Klaus.

Sometimes she wanted to see how many buttons she could push, she wanted to make him kill her so at least it wasn’t cancer that took her out. Other times, she just wish he’d disappear and leave both her and her family alone.

She would wonder if, had no vampires ever turned up to Mystic falls, if she would have been able to connect with her siblings some more, if Jenna would have given her some hope.

Those thoughts made her mad, but also sad. That’s when she would get snappy. Sometimes she didn’t mean to annoy him but she couldn’t help herself.

But unfortunately it made people dislike her which in some cases was a good thing because it meant people wouldn’t miss her if she did die but it also meant that she was even more alone.

Y/n was too young to deal with something so big, it was no surprise she didn’t know how to manage it. The problem was that nobody else knew how to either and so she was forced to try do it herself.

The medication she had been on since young caused an imbalance of hormones and had stunted her growth in areas. It made her hair thin and caused her to become feeble and delicate to an extent. Of course she tried her hardest to build up her strength but she wasn’t stupid, she knew it was much easier for her to become out of breath, to become exhausted or hurt. It was because of this that people like Damon would dismiss her and why she would be cast aside without any explanation. Not that she needed a reason, she already knew.

In some ways, she liked that Klaus didn’t know that she had cancer. He would be boisterous around her, tease and taunt her like he would anyone else. Because to him, she was like everyone else. She wasn’t a delicate little thing that needed to be avoided and fixed.

Sometimes he could go a little far, once he had her by the throat, cutting off her airways as he threatened her. He didn’t know that after he left she was spluttering blood all over the floor as she coughed and wheezed for air. She struggled for it anyway, she didn’t like someone taking it from her. But she never said anything to him, of course she was a little more cautious but she enjoyed pissing him off when she could.

When she was little, kids were cruel. If she wanted to play, they would give her funny looks and say they didn’t want to play with her. They acted like she was contagious, or an alien. She hated it.

So even if Klaus’s attention was ill intended, at least it was directed at her.

————————————————————————

Klaus originally saw her as another inconvenience. He met her when he was in Alarics body, when he went over to the Gilbert’s house to harass Jenna and frightened the others. Turns out their sister Y/n also hadn’t been clued in on who he really was. She had wondered down the stairs still in her pyjamas, smiling subtly at him and going to the cupboard to grab some biscuits. Once she had sat down and began munching, Stefan was storming in and telling her and Jenna to run. At that point Y/n just looked tired and begrudgingly got dragged out the house by a hysterical Jenna.

The next time was at a hospital after he had taken Elena from senior prank night. She was sat in the waiting room, lead across the seats as though she had been there hours. He came and sat beside her, spoke to her and told her to tell Damon to never threaten him again. She agreed without compulsion and kept her trap shut about anything else.

The following few times he saw her, she was less tired and more firey. That’s when he began to take a strange liking to her. She always had something to snap back at him no matter how dark the last thing he said was.

Somehow she seemed to know exactly how to make him tick. Knew how to tease him enough to make him want her to shut up but not enough to physically make her. Though occasionally she went too far and he would break.

Sometimes he felt a weird sensation of guilt swirling inside him, he never knew what to do about that. He didn’t enjoy that.

When she became tired, she was moody and would say things to purposely make him angry. And klaus’s anger management had never been great. He didn’t always mean to react to quick and harshly but he couldn’t help it. Especially when he didn’t understand why she was so angry sometimes.

He knew that she was very much seen as irrelevant when it came to her siblings and the Salvatore’s etc. He couldn’t understand why exactly, she was not less useful than Elena was as far as he could see. Still he didn’t ask or dig on it, it didn’t matter to him if she was apart of the little gang or not. She seemed to hang around him anyway.

He took an amount of joy in their playful banter and teasing nature when around each other. He also liked to push at her buttons the same way she did his. But he wasn’t as good at knowing how far he could go, often she would end up storming off and he’d be left feeling guilty and there’d frustrate which lead to annoyance and anger.

————————————————————————

Klaus hadn’t once guessed that the reason for her mood swings or her pushed to the side nature was due to cancer.

He hadn’t been expecting to see her name on labels of samples of blood.

He was in the hospital for blood obviously, even though he drank mostly straight from the vein, with all his hybrids and his busy schedule sometimes blood bag was easier.

He happened to come across the samples and spotted a familiar name. His curiosity peeked. Of course he originally guessed that it was just normal things like she had given blood or that she had low iron. But something within him told him to look further.

So he began to compel people to get him her files and information. But turns out he didn’t need to, as soon as he said her name the receptionist was yapping on.

“Oh the poor girl, in and out of here since she was just a toddler” she began, sighing and clicking for Y/n’s name on the computer.

“Really?” He questioned, his brows furrowed.

“Uhuh, next appointment is…oh! Tomorrow” she smiled and Klaus nodded pretending to know

“Right for..”

“Collection and a check up” she smiled and turned around to find something, a bag. She placed the paper back infront of him with contained the prescription pills that would control the cancer to some level. He smiled back at her though it didn’t reach his eyes and picked up the packet, reading what they were and what they did.

His heart dropped a little and he hesitantly handed them back to the receptionist. “Thank you, I’d take them to her but if she has a check up tomorrow anyway then I expect it’s easier if she get them herself” he muttered, his voice quiet as he felt a strange sadness forming somewhere inside him.

“Of course” the woman answered “Will you be with her tomorrow?” She asks with the tilt of her head.

“I might be” he replied, unsure and she nodded slightly back

“I’m sure she’d like it if you did, nobodies been with her for a scan for over a year now” she sighed and his heart ached.

He left shortly after and tried to find her. Eventually he found her, much to his surprise, at his house. She was sat on his sofa with a glass of wine and one of his hybrids, chatting about whatever. Without caring he made his way over and grabbed her by the arm.

“Klaus!” She yelped as he began to pull her away from the hybrid.

“He just wants to drain you love, come on upstairs” he murmured, pushing her up the stairs and grabbing the bottle of wine from the table.

“Well he might just be nice” she muttered

“Perhaps but I don’t like the odds” he replied as he pulled her into his room

“Right, because you care if he kills me” she grumbled and his stomach turned uncomfortably. No longer did the joking of her death amuse him like it once did.

When she noticed his silence and the look he had in his eyes, she knew that he knew. It was stupid look of pity that everyone had and that slightly uncomfortable stance because they don’t know how to act around her anymore.

She sighed and glanced to the floor and then him. “Can you not?” She whispered and he frowned confused

“Not what-“

“Oh don’t do that. I know you know. Its fine. I’ve had it forever you don’t have to be weird” she mumbled as she sat on his bed, laying back and staring up at the ceiling tiredly.

“I don’t know what-“

“Cancer Klaus. It’s not a scary word, it’s not Voldemort” she grumbled

“What-?” He questioned confused

“Doesn’t matter it’s not the point” she whispered and he frowned

“You never said anything about it” he muttered as he sat beside her.

“It’s not really the best conversation topic. Plus we’re not that close” she mumbled

“Well…you’re in my bed so I’ve done something right” he joked lightly and she smiled

“I guess so” she whispered.

Klaus laid down beside Y/n quietly. It was a little odd to be so close to her without either of them having ill intentions. He did feel bad though that he made her uncomfortable but he couldn’t help but act a little off. His mind had been replaying every time he had hurt her, he wondered how much it had endangered her life.

It confused him as to why he had this care for her. He couldn’t have cared less about week ago if she had been killed but knowing that she actually, most likely, would die much sooner than expected made him feel something. To know that she was living in pain and fear of when it would catch up to her.

Klaus was a man who liked control, he couldn’t imagine having something like cancer hanging over his life everyday acting as a threat ever time she breathed.

“So you-“

“I don’t wanna talk about it” she mumbled, cutting him off. He fell into silence and sighed softly.

Y/n stared at the ceiling, wishing it would fall on her in this moment. She hated that he knew. Of course she didn’t exactly hide it from him but she also didn’t want him to know. Not because it was something she was embarrassed of, or because she feared he would used it against her. Simply because it meant there was one more person who would look at her like she was incapable and weak. She didn’t want to be stared at like an animal at a zoo by anyone else.

She’d rather he be cruel to her and tell her how pathetic she was just for being a human. She’d rather he scare her and hurt her like he did everyone else in town than look at her like he was now.

She felt her eyes drain of the life that they usually held when around Klaus. With a lump forming in her throat and a heavy weight of disappointment on top of her, she pushed herself up and got off his bed.

“I’m gonna go home” she muttered, ignoring the way he sat up and looked after her with worry.

“Love-“ he called, standing up to follow her as she made her way down his stairs.

“I don’t want to talk, I want to go home” she huffed.

“Sweetheart-“

“Shut up Klaus” she snapped “stop calling me cute little names and looking at me like I’m a three-legged puppy! You don’t like me, I’m annoying and useless to you” she sighed, her voice becoming desperate and she hated how pathetic she sounded.

“You’re dying” he whispered

“Everyone’s dying” she mumbled “I’m just doing it faster” before leaving his house, closing the door behind her.

Klaus left her alone for a little while, and she avoided him also.

He did however go back to the hospital after she had her most recent scan. He compelled the surgeon to show he what was happening, where it was and what that meant. He wanted to know why she wasn’t getting more help, they told him there was very little chance of her surviving even with chemotherapy. Klaus argued they should still try and they informed him of the treatment trial coming up in two months time. Demands were made, he would pay for everything and they would tell her that she qualified to have it free. He didn’t really care what lie they told her just so long as she accepted it.

And she did, Klaus received a phone call telling him so.

Klaus still had no explanation for his sudden change of heart, why he wanted her to get better so badly. He didn’t know why, he just did.

He felt a little sad that she wouldn’t hang around him anymore. Not many people willingly spoke to him, even if it was just some teasing and playful banter. He missed it.

When she had her first dosage of chemo, he found himself in her hospital room. It upset him that nobody had come with her or shown any care at all.

Klaus quietly wondered through the hospital, it was halfway into the night and quiet as he searched for her room. His expression softened when he saw her curled up in a bed, the machine beside her beeping quietly. A singular rose was placed beside her bed as he pulled a chair over to her and leaned down to kiss her cheek softly. It was an odd gesture coming from the hybrid but he tried not to dwell on it as he sat beside her for a while.

Klaus came back during the night as her treatment continued, he would leave her a rose and often a note. He would never know how much it meant to her.

One night he ran his fingers through her hair, only for a handful of strands to come out with his hand. His eyes had enlarged as he quickly put it in the bin and gently lifted to her head to find a clump of hair on her pillow. He didn’t want her to find it in the morning and be upset and so removed it himself.

He didn’t mean to wake her up. She knew it was him without a doubt when she felt her face against someone’s chest. She could hear his soft muttering and the sound of his hand behind her head. It took her a minute to figure out what he was doing and when the realisation hit her she just stared at his chest exhausted. Y/n could remember when all her hair fell out the first time, when she was little and the other kids would poke fun while the parents would tell her how brave she was while staring at her with that helpless, pitiful face. She didn’t want to see it on Klaus’s face as well so she pretended to stay asleep.

After a moment he laid her back down and pulled the blanket back up. “There we go” he murmured softly as he smoothed it over “it’s all going to be just fine” he whispered, stroking her arm gently. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady until he left, she couldn’t stop the tears rolling after he was gone. She hated feeling sorry for herself all of the time but it seemed she could never catch a break.

It wasn’t long before she was back home, still on chemo but home. Jeremy was living in Denver and Elena basically lived at the Salvatores so Y/n had the house to herself. She didn’t go out much, she never really had. She only did recently to annoy Klaus but she didn’t want to be around him anymore either so she found that staying inside was better.

However Klaus had different ideas and so wound up on her doorstep, nocking incessantly until she answered.

“Finally love, you and me worried” he sighed and she narrowed her eyes

“What do you want?” She snapped, she was wrapped up in a blanket and wore a hat on her head. Klaud wasn’t sure if it was because she was cold or because she had given in and shaved her head.

“It’s lovely to see you too” he smiled sarcasticly and she glared. “I wanted to see how you were doing” he answered.

“I’m doing fine. How are you doing?” She replied stiffly

“Ah you know…family troubles” he mumbled and she hummed

“Elijah?” She question

“All of them” Klaus muttered “three brothers, a sister and a mother. I can only be glad I’ve already killed my father…though that didn’t stop mother”

Y/n let out a breathy laugh and glance down “I’ll grab my shoes and we’ll talk and walk.” She told him before closing the door. Klaus smiled to himself as he waited a second before she came out ready. She was completely wrapped up, hat gloves coat. Still he didn’t ask, just remained happy to be with her.

They spoke about the sudden arrival of his family and the ball. He said he hoped she would come but her silence wasn’t convincing.

“You don’t have to” he told her “I know you don’t like people and you barely like me enough” he smiled and she returned it weakly.

“I don’t really think it’s a good idea” she mumbled and he nodded, of course he was a little disappointed but he wasn’t exactly surprised either.

“Then perhaps you’ll have to give me a dance another time?” He offered and she shrugged playfully with a smile

“I might be able to come for just one dance, but I go home straight after?” She compromised and he grinned

“Perfect” he whispered and cupped her face. The smile soon vanished from his lips as he felt how hot her skin was to touch “you’re burning” he mumbled before unzipping her coat and pulling her hat off. Immediately she made a sound of upset and grabbed for the hat. His eyes softened as she stared at him with a mixture of emotions.

She wanted to die. That was it. She wanted the cancer to take her in that moment. Stupid Klaus. She wasn’t sure why having no hair made her feel so bad, she had a nice shaped head but her past experience with peoples reactions caused her to hate it.

“Put it back” she whimpered but he shook his head. His hands gently pulled her coat off and then her gloves.

“You have a fever, you’re boiling, I’m taking you home” he told her as he leant down and lifted her up. She looked at him like he was crazy, she didn’t understand what kind of bond they had or what feelings they held for eachother. She didn’t why he would like her of all people. Was it pity? She hoped not, she’d be so pissed off it was.

“Fevers are normal” she mumbled “you don’t gotta worry”

“Normal or not, it’s best we get rid of it so that it doesn’t hurt you” he answered as he carried her towards her house. She couldn’t help but smile a little when he said ‘we’. In a way it reminded her of how her parents would care her and tell her that it was something they would all get through.

He felt her relax a little in his hold and glanced down to see her looking up at him with a lost look in her eye as he approached her door.

“I can’t come in but I trust that you’ll know how to cool off? I can take you to my house otherwise” he told her as he placed her down and passed her things back to her as she got inside.

“I’ll be fine, thank you” she told him with a small smile before closing the door.

Later that day she received a package containing a dress, shoes that matched and a silver necklace with her birthstone hanging from it. She smiled a little and put it somewhere safe ready for the next evening.

Then she continued to settle her fever and take a nap. She woke back up, watched a few films, messaged Klaus to let him know she was okay now, and finally took her meds when she ate her dinner before going to sleep.

In the morning she continued her everyday routine and lounging around until it was only a couple hours before the ball that the mikaelsons were throwing. She had argued with herself all day whether she should go. She knew people would talk, seeing the cancer kid with Klaus Mikaelson. Not that it was date. No no. That would be weird…

Eventually she decided she would go, dance the first dance and then go home. She just hoped that the exhaustion wouldn’t hit her too hard while she was out or that she wouldn’t fall sick until she got back home.

Y/n never got to go to events like Elena and Jeremy did when she was little, but her mother would dress her up when she was in the house sometimes to make her feel happy and pretty for a day. That was the only way she knew what she was doing when it came to her face. She had stolen some from Elena’s room as she only had the basics for herself.

She put on everything he had given her and looked in the mirror. Her hands touched her head with a small sigh before she called a cab that took her to the mansion.

She stood outside it for a few minutes, unsure whether she should just turn around and walk in. Klaud didn’t give her that option when he came wondering outside, his eyes looking around for her hopefully. She smiled a little to herself and began to walk towards him, his gaze met hers halfway and he quickly flashed beside her.

“You came” he whispered, pulling her in for an unexpected hug. He pulled back and cleared his throat “sorry” he muttered awkwardly before grabbing her hand and leading her inside. “You look gorgeous by the way, you always look gorgeous but…not that- “

“Thank you” she cut him off with a smile and squeezed his hand in appreciation. “Am I late? I didn’t mean to stand there for so long” she asked quietly, glancing around and seeing the entire town moving around his home.

“It’s okay, the first dance only just started” he told her, leading her further inside.

“I never really learned to dance” she whispered nervously

“That’s alright” he murmured “I’ve got you” he told her and she believed him.

She let him guide her throughout the dance, she kept her eyes on him and tried to ignore any stares. Klaus kept her close and offered a death glare to anyone who even glanced their way. Time flew, they danced for nearly six full songs before he felt her body go momentarily limp to his. Thankfully his arm was around her waist already so he kept her up. She regained her balance in seconds but it was clear that something was wrong.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, alright love?” He murmured to her but she shook her head

“I can’t do the stairs…I’m dizzy” she whispered and he nodded

“I know, I didn’t expect you to walk up them” he told her before gently tugging her away from the people. They walked straight past Elijah and Elena talking, both turned to face them with looked of confusion and surprise as Klaus told her to let him help her. He kept upright so that nobody would know she was being carried as he supported her weight up each step. Once at the top they walked past Finn and Esther, his mother eyed the girl with that same pity as most and shook her head at Finn in a way that told him to leave them alone as Klaus lead her into his room carefully.

He laid her down on his bed, propping her up with pillows and cupping her face gently. Her eyes focused on his as his cool hands soothed her skin.

“You feel okay love?” He asked softly

“Yeah I’m ok” she nodded as her head began to settle. She felt a little nauseous but less faint. “I should go home” she mumbled, pushing herself up but he shook his head and laid her back down.

“Stay here tonight love, I’ll look after you” he told her

“Can’t, gotta have my meds” she muttered and he nodded

“I’ll go get them okay? You stay in here, find a shirt of mine to wear to bed and I’ll go get your pills.” He decided, standing up

“Klaus…you’re not invited in” she whispered and he sighed

“Then I’ll go to the hospital and get some, I know what you need”

“It’s easier if I go home” she argued

“I want you here” he told her seriously and with a sigh she nodded.He nodded in return and stroked her face, and her smooth head gently. “You can wear whatever you like okay?” He smiled and she nodded, watching as he left.

Klaus quickly made his way out the room, rushing down the stairs and out the house. Stopping for only a second to tell Elijah to keep people downstairs.

Once he was back from the hospital with her medication she was wrapped in his duvet, dressed in his shirt and her panties with no makeup left on her face while scrolling through Netflix on his TV. He smiled at the sight and close the door behind him with a click. Her head lifted to see him and he made his way over with the bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Thank you Klaus” she whispered gratefully as she swallowed a pill before handing back the glass which he placed on a coaster on his bedside table.

He grabbed a shirt and some plaid pants before disappearing into his conjoined bathroom. He remerged from the room in a couple minutes ready for sleep. He had a sofa in his room, a mini fridge and everything. Y/n wandered if he ever actually had to leave his room.

Klaus opened a cabinet filled with blankets and pillows and pulled a couple out and setting up a bed on the couch making Y/n frown a little, guilt and confusion swirling.

“You done have to sleep there” she told him “You could sleep here if you want…or I could go on the sofa, I don’t mind” she offered, slipping out of the bed and making her way to the couch but he spun her straight back around and lead her back to bed.

“Under no circumstances will you not be in that bed” he told her, a level of authority in his tone as he put her to bed. “I don’t want to disturb your sleep by stealing half the bed” he teased.

“No it’s okay, I like sharing” she smiled and he raised a brow as he sat down infront of her.

“Oh? Do you share beds often?” He teased with narrowed eyes. Klaus didn’t like the thought of Y/n sleeping with anyone but himself. Even if it was just a nap.

“No” she whispered, her cheeks bushing pink “sometimes when I was sick my mom would sleep with me” she shrugged and he smiled.

“I doubt I’ll be anything like your mother sweetheart” he chuckled and she rolled her eyes

“Oh just come lay down, you know that’s not-“

“I know, I know” he murmured playfully as he laid beside her. She huffed out a breath dramatically and he grinned, pulling her against him. It was strange to be so close to him, teasing and laughing again. She liked it though, and so did he.

Klaus shifted himself under the duvet and pulled it around them. He hadn’t had a girl in his bed for a while, especially the past few months. All he could think of was her so why would he want some other woman? It had been even longer since he had a girl in his bed with no expectations of sex. That hadn’t happened in decades.

Something about it was nice, innocent.

Y/n on the other hand had never shared a bed with a man, never been touched or ever really thought that a guy would want to touch her. She didn’t think Klaus would either, especially not when she looked like she did. She’d lost a lot of weight from the chemo, her stamina was low, she bruised easy and she had no hair which threw most boys off. Boys her own age at least. Not Klaus.

He couldn’t have cared less about something so simplistic. Sure, she had pretty hair at one point but it didn’t define her. He liked her as she was, of course he wanted her to be cancer free and happy but he’d still love her while she wasn’t.

Love. Was it too strong of a word? He wasn’t sure.

Especially not when he was looking at her like he was now. Seeing her so openly vulnerable and curled up against him, sleepy eyes set on the tv and her body hidden under the quilt though he could feel her legs touching his.

It wasn’t long before they were snuggled up and half asleep. She was barely conscious when Elijah’s head popped into the room to check on Niklaus. The brothers had a brief conversation on how the night went, Elijah expressed his caution around their mother Klaus said he couldn’t be bothered with it anymore. Elijah left when Y/n began to stir and Klaus’s focus became her.

He slept with her throughout the night, he woke to find her missing and his heart sank. Thankfully she wondered back in from the bathroom a few minutes later and crawled back to bed with a yawn. Klaus’s lips upturned and he pulled her close again. She looked up at him with a small smile which grew when their eyes met.

“Hi” she whispered and he smiled

“Hi” he uttered back, pulling her as close to his side as he could before she was under him. She glanced to the time, seeing it was still really early. She groaned softly and closed her eyes. Klaus hummed softly and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek bones softly. “You look so pretty” he whispered.

Her cheeks tinted red and she rolled onto her side to hide her face from him but it only resulted in him spooning her. He kissed the back of her head making her go redder and her fingers to hold onto the sheets beneath. Klaus pressed close to her, too close. The second she felt something hard against her backside her body went tense and she panicked. Klaus felt her fear and quickly pulled himself away from her but she was already getting out of bed.

“I have to go, I’m sorry” she whispered, heading for the door but he sped infront of her.

“Love-“

“I gotta go”

“Let me drive you, and at least give you something to wear” he mumbled, disappointed with himself for scaring her. She nodded when she realised she was still in just her underwear and his shirt. He sped into Rebekah’s room which was unsurprisingly empty as she had ended up staying the night in Damon Salvatores bed.

He came back and she pulled the jeans on before he drove her home. It was quiet and he hated that he’d ruined the night. He should have thought about it and known she wouldn’t want that, he hadn’t intended to do anything other than sleep but she was so close and he couldn’t help but want. His desire always won though in this case it made him lose big time.

He apologised quietly when she got out the car and she told him it was okay and that she overreacted. Neither of them were particularly pleased with how they responded.

Y/n thought about how the moment could have played out a hundred times over and kicked herself for not just letting him have her. But she knew she would have regretted it.

They both decided to pretend the incident didn’t happen when they saw eachother next. Klaus had turned up on her doorstep that same night, it was clear he had been crying but she mention it. She wrapped her arms around him as he told her that his family had left again and that his mother wanted him dead. She ended up back in his bed, using his chest as a pillow once more.

In fact she ended up in his house, his bed a lot. Especially as her chemo treatment continued, when she wasn’t in hospital he managed to coax her to his house.

“I enjoy our sleepovers” he teased making her bite back a smile and glare playfully.

“Technically you don’t even need sleep” she reminded and he rolled his eyes.

“Well I like sleeping with you” he murmured with a wink and she laughed.

For a little while, things seemed to be getting better. She felt happier and somewhat healthier. She was more confident in herself when Klaus was around, he helped her see her beauty and her worth. For a moment she truly believed that everything would be better.

But things could never just be so simple.

At the end of her chemotherapeutic treatment, she went into the hospital as expected. Klaus didn’t go with her this time, Y/n had told him that the appointment wasn’t for another week because she wanted good news as a surprise.

How she wished it was good news.

She knew as soon as she saw the nurses face. When she told her that the treatment hadn’t worked the way they hoped, she just nodded and asked how much she owed. They shook their heads and reminded her that it was ‘free’ and she went home.

All this had done was just confirm that she wouldn’t live even half of what everyone else would. A quarter if she was lucky.

Vampire blood couldn’t save her, magic couldn’t save her. She just had to accept it and live with it for however long.

That wasn’t even the hard part for her, the hard part was telling Klaus.

After her appointment she went back to his home. He wasn’t in but she went up to his room anyway, besides it was basically her soon now too.

She stared at the bed, god she loved that bed. It was like a cloud and when she had Klaus holding her tight aswell? She only hoped heaven would be similar.

She tapped her fingers against her arm as she thought. With a sigh she went and had a shower, got back out and stared at herself in the full length mirror that Klaus had in his bathroom for whatever reason. She smiled and laughed through her nose at the thought.

Y/n had a lot of clothes at Klaus’s now, she pulled on one of the only actual sets of underwear she owned and sat down on the bed. She adjusted the straps on her bra for a few minutes and fiddled with her panties so they sat how she wanted them to.

Klaus was home shortly after and made his way upstairs to his room. His breath got caught in his throat the second he saw her.

They teased eachother and made little jokes about sex, they both entertained the idea in their heads but he never actually thought she would be the one to make the move.

He didn’t know what the final push was that made her give in but he wouldn’t push it away.

Within seconds he was on that bed, gently pushing her down onto her back and hovering over her. His lips met hers in a deep passion that heated them both. Her legs were nudged apart so he could lay between them. She kissed him back with as much love as should had in an effort to make him understand how much he meant to her.

His hands stroked up her sides gently, holding her waist perfectly. His mouth pressed to hers repeatedly before moving down to her neck. Y/n’s eyes kept shut as she felt the soft tingle of every touch, her hands slid down and unbuckled his belt. She pulled it through the loops with a tug and pushed it aside.

Klaus pulled back and looked down at her hands, he gently took them in his hands and lifted them to his lips, kissing the backs of them. “We don’t need to rush, we have all the time in the world” he whispered, the words made her eyes prick with tears but she held them back.

“I know…I just need you now” she told him quietly making him smile. He leant back down and kissed from her collarbone down. Y/n watched as goosebumps lined her skin and his hands slid her panties down her legs slowly so that she had the option to stop him.

He pressed soft kisses to her knees and then up along her thighs. His hands caressed her legs gently as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to her pussy. Y/n’s body jerked away from his mouth at the unfamiliar feeling and he smiled.

“It’s alright love, I’ve got you” he told her before running his tongue through her folds and up to her clit. Her legs went over his shoulder as her hands went to his hair, feeling the soft curls as her body filled with heat. Klaus rest his head against one of her thighs so he could look up at her as his tongue flicked gently at her little button. Her brows pulled together and a soft sound escaped her as she felt his teasing.

“Klaus” she whispered softly, a slightly tremble in her voice as his fingers made their way up and gently traced her pussy lips. He hummed quietly in response, letting the gentle vibrations tickle her nerves pleasantly. The words ‘I love you’ were on the tip of her tongue but she didn’t utter them, not yet. She worried that he would want to know why she chose now to tell him, why now to give herself to him. And if he did find out why, everything would be ruined.

A shaky breath left her and she put her focus back on him. She pulled at his soft hair gently, telling him to give her more and he eagerly obliged. He slipped a finger into her halfway, moving it slowly to help ease the foreign feeling upon her. His tongue still licked at her clit, though now with a little more pressure.

Her back arched a little and a breathy moan left her lips making him push his finger in so it was knuckle deep before pulling it out with a slight curve. He watched her tighten around nothing as her hips rolled a little to try get his touch back inside her.

“Do you like how it feels love?” He murmured with a kiss to her clit. She nodded and pulled at his curls gently.

“I do” she whispered “I love it” she confirmed and he smirked a little.

“I love it too” he smiled and sucked her clit into his mouth making her squirm and moan his name. She inhaled deeply and leant her head back against the pillows and two fingers began to stretch her open as they pushed in as far as they could’ve.

She took soft but long breaths as her body filled with heat and her hips ground her pussy against his fingers as they curled into her and found her spot. Her back curved off the bed and he smiled to himself, happy to bring her pleasure.

His fingers met the thrusts of her hips and his tongue lay flat against her clit, letting her rub against it as quick as she needed. A soft cry left her and her pussy squeezed his fingers tightly, her thighs squished his head making him chuckle and suck on her softly. He pulled away before she could come undone and pulled her down the bed so her legs were at his hips instead.

He leant down to kiss her lips making her wrinkle her nose and dodge him.

“Sweetheart, you can’t deny my kisses now” he murmured as she wriggled.

“You can’t kiss me after that” she whined and he laughed

“You taste lovely” he teased

“I’m good not knowing” she laughed and he narrowed his eyes before attacking her with kisses all over her face making her squeal and push at his chest playfully. Eventually he caught her lips and had her succumb to the kiss. A soft moan escaped her and he smiled.

“Can I keep going love?” He asked softly as he used one of his hands to undo his jeans. She nodded kissed his jaw softly, her eyes fluttering as she felt his bare legs against hers. Her body tensed for a moment as his cock rest against her thigh and her hand gripped his shoulder. “I’ll be slow” he whispered, “don’t worry Y/n”.

She nodded again and tightened her legs round his waist. Klaus cupped the back of her head with one hand while the other guided his tip into her weeping hole. She whimpered at the stretch and he kissed her cheek, holding her close.

She nuzzled close and clung to him as he pushed another two inches into her and gently rocked in and out of her, getting another inch into her with each thrust until eventually she took all of him. He stayed they for a while, stroking away the little tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes and kissing her lips softly.

“It’s okay love” he told her gently, “you know I’ve got you”

She nodded weakly and kept her face in the crook of his neck as he began to move again. Soft little moans slipped past her lips and vibrated against his throat as he thrust into her slowly. His hips moved perfectly to stroke all the right places inside her.

Y/n’s hands held onto him tightly, so did her pussy.

Klaus kissed her skin gently as he rocked into her, his hand slid down between their bodies and he began to stroke her swollen clit. She let out a little cry and he grunted as his cock was squeezed.

“You’re doing so good sweetheart” he murmured as he began to speed up. His eyes closed as he focused on pleasing her body, he could hear the repeated sound of his skin meeting hers along with the whimpers that tumbled past her mouth. He could feel her body growing tired and knew she wouldn’t be able to go on much more. He stroked her skin soothingly while his other hand rubbed quick circles on her pretty clit.

Her body tensed and she cried his name as her body let go around his. Klaus hugged her close as he thrust into her slowly, his hips came to a stop and she panted softly for air. He kissed her lips softly and pulled out. His hand stroked his cock quickly and he squeezed it tightly until he came onto her stomach. She moaned softly and tugged at him for a kiss.

His lips pressed to hers lovingly and rolled onto his back, pulling her ontop of him. Y/n smiled down at him and caressed his chest gently.

“I love you” she whispered and his heart warmed even more

“I love you too” he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist and sitting up. He stood up with her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and brought them both under the warm water.

“I can stand” she mumbled and he hummed but didn’t put her down. Instead he kept ahold of her as he helped clean them both off. She leant against him, her head in his neck as he wrapped a towel big enough to be a double duvet. He kissed her head and dried them off before setting her back on his bed. He pulled one of his shirts over her head and pulled some panties up her legs. “Thank you” Y/n whispered with a smile.

“Of course” he smiled back and laid beside her in his sleep pants. Klaus held her to him, his lips pulled up in contentment and he closed his eyes. He held her close they slept and woke up early to prepare breakfast.

Klaus wanted this relationship to be right. He wanted to treat her like he knew he could and show that he meant his love for her. So he went downstairs and cooked up some pancakes and bacon for his girl. He plated it up and poured them both drinks, he set the table for them and made his way back upstairs.

His movements faltered for a moment as he heard the sound of gagging. Hurriedly he made his way to the bathroom to see her heaving over the toilet. Quickly he kneeled beside her and caressed her back, her hand reached for tissue as she wiped her mouth, dumping the tissue ontop of her sock and flushing the toilet. He helped her up and wrapped his arms around her waits from behind as she brushed her teeth. She apologised quietly but he shook his head and kissed her cheek.

“I got you something love” he told Y/n softly before leading her downstairs. She looked up at him with a soft look in her eyes as he pulled out her seat at the table. She sat down and smiled as he pushed her in and sat opposite her with his food also.

“You know you didn’t have to?” She whispered softly and Klaus hummed

“Of course I did” he answered “I’ll always look after you”

Y/n’s smile wavered a little but she pulled back together. They ate their food and she helped him clean up. After they got dressed and he started to talk. When Klaus starts talking he doesn’t tend to stop until he absolutely has to.

Usually Y/n didn’t mind his rants and rambles but this time it was about them. He started going on about all the things they could do together and how once her cancer was gone then they would go wherever she wanted and he went on and on. After a while however, Y/n just couldn’t help it.

Her eyes had been watering for a full twenty minutes and as soon as the first tear fell, well it was like a waterfall. Klaus’s face dropped within seconds and his heart sunk. Panic flooded him and he quickly pulled her into his lap. He tried to calm her but had no idea what was wrong to begin with. Well not at first.

She tried to leave, push him away like she knew she should have at the start. He wouldn’t let her though. Not now. He had to block the exit, ended up yelling for her to tell him what was wrong. Instead of an actual answer she told him that she didn’t want to be with him, she began to say hurtful things. She needed him to not love her. Not if there was no hope of living. She didn’t want to leave him missing her, she would rather he hated her and was glad she was gone. Or at least that’s how she thought in that moment.

Klaus was never good when it came to emotions. He didn’t understand the sudden change of heart, the hatred that suddenly blossomed. But he knew something was wrong, she didn’t look angry or disgusted by him like she tried to claim she was. She just looked scared and borderline devastated.

He stared at her for a while and she didn’t dare say anything else. Klaud didn’t want to believe it to begin with. But it was the only thing that made sense. With slight hesitation he stepped to her, he overpowered her shoving hands and forced her into a hug. It only took a moment for her to collapse into it, cries shaking through her without a break.

“I’m gonna take you everywhere” he mumbled softly, kissing her smooth head continuously. She made a sound of distress and she shushed her gently “anywhere you want sweetheart. It doesn’t matter how long we have, I will not have you live it alone and in self-pity” he argued and she shook.

He picked her up and sat down with her on the sofa, he grabbed a world map and brought it over to her. “Come on love, you choose somewhere and I’ll get us in a plane, have you ever flown?” He asked, swallowing any tears or sadness down. Right now he just needed to keep her with him. He would go anywhere, do anything to ensure that she was happy for however long she had to live.

“We can’t just-“

“Yes we can. We will. We don’t even have to pack, I’ll buy you everything new from wherever we go. Just pick a continent, we’ll do a country from each and see how you’re feeling before we go again” he whispered, desperation seeping into his tone.

“You’re making it worse for yourself” she uttered, wiping her tears.

“It’ll be a hundred times worse if I’m not with you” he argued, a tear dropping from his lashes.

They both went quiet and let the situation fully dawn on them for a little while. Finally Y/n glanced to the map. “I’ve always heard Europe was pretty” she mused quietly and Klaus wiped his eyes, pulling a smile onto his face as he pulled her close and kissed the side of her head.

“It’s beautiful. I’ll call for a private jet and we shall leave in a few hours. Would you like to tell your family that you’ll be away?” He asked but she shook her head no. “Then please, just trust me my love?”

“I do…and I’m sorry for-“

“Don’t be. Just know that I love you and that I will always have you no matter what” he told her, a kiss to her lips to seal the promise.

“I love you” she uttered, they repeated it back to one another as she made her way into his lap and rest her face in his neck.

Everything else was forgotten.

The doppelgänger, hybrids, Salvatore’s, Mikaelsons. They would all have to wait.

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hotgirlbedtimescenarios · 4 months ago

Text

Loved You More

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader *no physical description* (one-shot)

Words: 1.4k+

Warnings: angsty and sad, mentions of loss, mentions of pregnancy / wanting children

Inspo song - Let Me Love You More Braxton Keith

Main Masterlist

It was falling apart around you, just as you had feared. You were fighting with Joel again, not because he had done anything wrong, but because of what he wouldn’t do.

He won't let you all the way in. He won't let you love him the way you know you can.

It was the silence he wrapped around himself, the walls he built, keeping you at arm's length.

No matter how many intimate nights you shared or happy moments passed between you, he refused to let you all the way in. You knew he loved you; he told you every chance he got, and the warmth in his eyes affirmed it.

So why won’t he give himself to you fully?

“Joel, please,” you cried, tears tracing paths down your cheeks. “I told you that doesn’t matter anymore. I want you.”

It shattered Joel’s heart to hear the agony in your voice, but his resolve had crystallized into something unyielding. He took a deep breath, fighting the tremor in his chest.

He fights the urge to pull you into his chest and rub a soothing hand across your back. “You can’t give up your dreams for me. You deserve a white wedding, a husband, kids, a bright, beautiful family. It’s what you’ve always wanted. Don’t deny it.”

“You’re enough, Joel,” you insisted, desperation clawing at your words. “I don’t need anything else.”

“That may be true now,” he sighed, sorrow etched deep into his features, “but what happens when you wake up one day and realize you want more? When it’s too late? You’ll resent me for taking those dreams away.”

“Then why!” Your voice rises, breaking. “Why did you let it go this far? Why don’t you want a life with me?”

“I do!” he admitted, anguish cracking his voice. “But I’ve done this before. I had a wife and a daughter, and when I lost it all, I nearly lost myself. Hell, I damn near didn’t make it. I don’t have it in me to be the man you need. Not anymore.”

“So, this is it?” you whimpered, the weight of finality hanging heavy in the air.

“This is it.” And with that, he turned, leaving a gaping void where hope had once lived, and he didn’t look back.

You sink to the cold, hard floor, sobbing until the tears dry, leaving behind only a hollow ache.

---

Two nights before, Joel decided he had to leave you. It was after watching your face at his niece's kindergarten graduation.

He saw how you beamed with joy and cheered for the little girl walking across the stage just as loud as her parents, Tommy and Maria. After the ceremony, you scooped her into your arms for a bear hug and looked at her precious face with love and longing, and Joel knew what had to be done.

Being a mother has always been your dream, and he knew it was meant for you. Joel had seen it in your gentle hands, how you braided hair and made flower crowns, how your voice soothed children to sleep, the perfect sweet tenor for singing lullabies and tucking babies into bed. You were born to nurture, to love, but he couldn’t give you the family you deserved.

He knew you'd be a perfect mother, but being a father was no longer in the cards for him. Of course, he's still a father; he will always be deep down. The love for his daughter Sarah and the void it left in him when she passed is exactly why he can't bring himself to go through it again.

Protecting her was his job, and he failed.

He'd had a wife then and failed at that, too. He hadn’t been enough for her to stay.

He didn't want to fail you too. So instead of dragging you with him in a lonely existence where he knew he wouldn’t allow himself to give you kids or marry you, he decided to let you go.

He loves you enough that he can't be selfish with you. He loves you more than he loves himself, so he sets you free. It is his final act of mercy. It is a bittersweet gift to free you from a future of sorrow.

He can't be everything you need, and he doesn't want to rob you of what you've always wanted.

Although you might never forgive him, he hopes you will understand.

He prays that one day, you will see that to love you more, he had to set you free.

---

6 years later.

Joel wakes in his empty home, the silence echoing around him like it always does. After a restless night and an early morning cup of coffee, he drives into town to load up on supplies for the job site he’s heading to this week.

Joel drives his pickup truck downtown with the windows rolled down, enjoying the cool brush of the autumn air against his skin and basking in the sun's warmth.

He parks on the curb outside the hardware store downtown and exits his vehicle, shutting and locking his door behind him. He stretches his tired bones in the warm sun and breathes in the fresh air. Today felt good, which is rare for him. But the day is beautiful, and he is determined to enjoy it, to try to allow happiness, no matter how small, a place in his life.

But then, a doorbell jingles from across the street, pulling his attention in that direction, and time seems to halt. He sees you—for the first time in years. His heart constricts painfully in his chest.

Over the years, he’s heard about you, your engagement, and your wedding, too. It hurt, damn, it hurt, but it's why he left you in the first place. To give you that chance, and now that he can see it all worked out for you, he's glad he made that choice.

He watches as two children, your children, exit a café across the street, bursting out the door, laughter dancing in the air. You follow behind, a baby cradled in your arms, your face alight with a joy he had never been able to give you. And there was your husband, a man younger and more suited for you, guiding you with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

Joel feels as if he were shattering all over again, a specter haunting a life he could never reclaim. He stands frozen, unable to look away. You were everything he had wanted for you, everything he had sacrificed for.

He left you crying that day, heartbroken, and without a proper goodbye. He's sure you hate him. He's sure you don't want to think about him ever again.

But then you look up. Your bright and happy eyes meet Joel's sorrowful ones, and your gazes lock. For a heartbeat, the world stands still; the pain of the past swirls between you, breathing life into the connection he had severed so long ago.

But despite the past, you smile at him, an acknowledgment that pierces through the years of silence and heartache.

You smile at him because now you know why he did it. Why he left you and never looked back. He was right, and he was a good man—a great one.

He set you free because he loved you more; you just didn't know it until now.

You have a happy family, a white picket fence, and an adoring husband, all because Joel gifted it to you. All because he was strong enough to break your heart.

So you smile at him across the street, the man you once loved more than anything in the world. Somewhere deep down, you probably always will.

Thank you, your eyes seemed to say. I understand now.

He smiles back, a bittersweet gesture filled with love, longing, and resolution.

He knows he shoudln’t linger, so with one last nod, Joel turns away and walks into the hardware store, leaving you behind for good, leaving you to live the life he wished for you. A life without him.

As Joel steps away, the ache that settled deep into his bones years ago seems to lighten just a fraction because today is proof that he had made the right decision. He loved you more than himself. He loved you more than you had ever known.

He loved you enough to let you go. And even if he has to spend the rest of his years missing you, at least he knows you're happy.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #tlou joel #pedro pascal characters #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #angst #game joel

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suikung · 6 months ago

Note

may i request some shikamaru x lil!sis headcanons?

| Brother!Shikamaru

| TW. Incest

Shikamaru was the prized sibling in the family, and the Nara clan. From the moment he started in the academy, his genius was noticed. Your parents equally loved you, however you could tell they knew you weren’t as gifted as Shikamaru. And Shikamaru obviously knew that. But to him, it’d be better for it to stay that way.

You started the academy a year after him, and immediately the instructors could tell a difference between your brother and you. They held you to such high standards because of him, and when they weren’t met, all you would receive was a look of disappointment. It crushed you to know you’d never be as good as him. But it didn’t deter you from training hard day and night.

He didn’t allow you to have friends, even if he did. It was always something along the lines of “They’re just a drag you know. No need to concern yourself with them.” It almost felt he took all the friends for himself so there wouldn’t be none left over for you.

He was and continues to be the biggest manipulator. His words might seem innocent to any pair of ears, but he knew to yours, they would crush your self esteem. “Come on, why train so hard? Just accept the way you are.” They might seem as if he encouraged self acceptance but in reality he was firm on the belief you’d never advance.

As the years went on, his words only weighed heavier. He tried his best to convince you not to take the chunin exams. Wasn’t being a genin enough for you? You already were assigned missions. And he hated it. You now needed to uphold a responsibility to the village and he sadly couldn’t keep you at home. Couldn’t you see he was doing this all for your safety.

When Asuma-sensei died, it further showed to him the cruelties of this shinobi world. And soon he know that the King, was not the Hokage or Feudal lord, but you. Just like the knight, he’d work even harder to protect you. Conveniently for him, you’d been dispatched on a mission and had come back severely injured. While he vowed to find those who did this to you, he also petitioned with Lady Tsunade to have you relieved of being a shinobi. “She’s not capable of continuing to do this Lady Tsunade. I say this with her best interest in mind.” Just like that, you had returned to being a normal civilian.

During the 4th Great Ninja war, you stayed home. Despite the village needing all the power they could get, Shikamaru did not let you join. “You haven’t done anything in forever. Do you seriously think joining the war would result in you coming back alive?” He was right. Your brother was always right, so you stayed home. You waited for both him and your father to return, however only Shikamaru came back. The loss of your father weighing so heavily on the family, your mother shortly followed suit.

Now he had nothing but you. He had lost the people who would always talk sense into him, give him a guiding push in life when his path might stray. But now? He had no one to tell him what he might do is wrong. So he let his instincts take over. His feelings suppressed for so many years, he could finally let them over when the time was right. And that time would be when you turned 18.

Shikamaru was now 19, you 18. He led the clan on his own after the war. But he needed someone to do it with him. You had now become his wife. Nothing out of the ordinary in this society. Pure bred clans were a normal things. However now he possessed so much more control over you.

Immediately you were left to uphold a traditional housewife life. He was cunning, already he kept you inside as much as he could but now as his wife he could finally put his ultimate move on the board. You had fallen pregnant.

Now he controlled every single thing in your life. What time you ate. What you ate. Who you were around, what if they caused you stress and in turn harmed the baby? But to him most importantly, when you went outside. He was still a Shinobi, he couldn’t be around you 24/7. But this allowed him to keep you inside, for what seemed like forever. Only ever being outside when he couldn’t take your begging and crying anymore to be free. But his plan worked. And if he had to, he’d continue to keep you pregnant if it meant you’d never have to step foot outside again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A/n I love him and his fucked up hairlime

#yandere naruto #naruto #shikamaru nara #shikamaru x reader #tw.dark content #tw.incest

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birdbaddie · 8 months ago

Text

I promise

yooooo

literally my first post ever so yippeeeee.

I got inspired by another post on here so I decided to make some glop of my own 😈. Reader's technique is basically just wings and healing, I will go in more depth in future oneshots.

ft. Satoru x f!Reader, mostly platonic!Megumi x f.Reader

Both Satoru and reader are around 20 and Megumi is around 8.

-discusses- violence, injuries, hurt+Comfort, poor baby Megumi needs a hug :( and Satoru being Satoru. Enjoy!

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

‘That worthless Tatsuya!’

Megumi kicked a stone as he stomped out of the school gates. Usually he wouldn’t care less when Tatsuya or any of his other goons picked on him but things just kept going wrong for him the past week and to top it off- that rat decided to start talking about you and Satoru and how weird it was that you were his guardians.

“Did you see that tall guy rolling around yesterday because he dropped his ice-cream?”

“Yeah my mom says to avoid them because they are dangerous to everyone”

Megumi didn’t understand when Tatsuya said dangerous. He understood the strength both of his guardians had but he couldn’t have meant that.

“No wonder Megumi is so strange, Do you think he’s as dangerous as his guardians?”

“Let’s not go near him, he can’t hurt anyone if he’s alone”

Megumi would’ve punched those bullies without hesitation but he made a promise with you last week after the 7th home call about his fighting.

“Megumi, you can’t keep doing this. You know that right?”

He remembers your soft voice and your equally soft hands cleaning the cuts on his hands. He kept quiet though because he knew if he spoke he might’ve either cried or became angry again and that would only make you worry more.

“Listen, I just don’t want you getting hurt. I know you have a good heart and have the right reasons but hitting others is never the right option no matter how right your reason is”

You quickly healed his cuts with your technique and he felt a rush of calmness envelop him, the way it always does when you have to use your technique on him.

“Promise me you will stop doing this, It makes me upset whenever I see even one scratch on you. I know we’re only your guardians but we love you and only want what's best for you, please Megumi….”

He looked at your face for the first time since coming back from school. You had tears ready to fall as you gently gripped his hands. He didn’t know if it was your technique or not but your emotions were always obvious, and with the way your eyebrows were as furrowed as they could be and you biting your lip to stop you from sobbing told him all he needed to know how you were feeling.

And it was all because of him.

“I promise”

Megumi sits on the sidewalk as he waits for you to pick him up.

It’s been 2 years since you and Gojo took him in and he hates to admit that he’s started getting attached to both of you. Attached enough now that if something happened to you or Gojo and it resulted in both him and Tsumiki getting separated from you two, he would give up on trying altogether.

Gojo was meant to pick him up today but with a surprise mission all the way in Osaka, it was your job. Tsumiki has been ill all week too so it was just him.

He sighs and rests his head on his hand as he pretends to draw pictures on the road with his feet. He contemplates releasing his divine dogs to play with or just to keep him company as he waits for you but he decides against it because he thinks you will be there soon anyway.

You were never late.

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

It’s been twenty minutes, where were you?

The sky was beginning to turn orange and he was the only one there.

Did she forget?........ No she never does when it comes to him and Tsumiki.

What if she just left him on purpose?

It wouldn’t have been the first time it's happened. Not with her specifically, but what if she’s just realised she can leave him just like his parents?

Megumi begins to curl in on himself as these thoughts keep coming.

‘What if that fight I was in last week was the final straw?’

His breathing started to become heavy as he willed himself not to cry.

What if that fight last week just revealed other things you didn’t like about him? What if you hated the way he’s only been cold and despondent since you took him in? What if you hated the fact you not only had to look after him but his sister too? What if you wanted to get rid of him because he took the rest of yours and Gojo’s childhood? What if-

“Megumi?”

He didn’t even realise when there was a large shadow blocking him from the harsh rays of the setting sun. And he especially didn’t realise the familiar comforting hand smoothing his hair.

He looks up to see your enormous white wings shielding him from the sun and your concerned eyes as you try and figure out what happened by not so subtly checking him for any injuries.

You reach for his face and he flinches. Your concern only grows as you reach again and wipe his tears away. Another thing he didn’t realise that happened.

“Are you okay?”

Megumi just stares as he once again couldn’t get the words out of his mouth, worried he might say too much.

“Did something happen in school?”

“He can’t hurt anyone if he’s alone”

He felt soft feathers surround him as he heard loud sobs and wailing. The hand that was in his hair went to his back and started rubbing small circles. As heard quiet comforting words come from the woman hugging him.

‘Is that me crying?’

The woman tightens her hug as she feels tiny arms wrap around her.

Megumi mumbled something in your neck so you strained back to hear him.

“What did you say?”

“I'm sorry”

His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“Sorry for what gumi?” At this point you were on the verge of calling Satoru to help you with this as you have never seen such a visceral reaction come from this eight year old.

“Please don’t leave us! I promise we’ll be good! I promise we’ll never do anything bad ever again! I promise!-”

“Megumi slow down! No ones leaving you, don’t you remember what I promised you last week?”

Megumi started to calm down as he remembered the rest of your conversation.

“I promise”

You sigh as you both get quiet, with you rubbing his now perfectly healed hands.

“Could you promise me something?”

You look into his eyes with surprise as he asks this. Megumi never asks for anything so it came as a shock, especially when it was as big as a promise.

You smile as you let go of his hands to put the baby wipes back away.

“I guess it’s only fair after I asked you to promise something”

Megumi watches your movements and waits for you to sit back down at the table beside him.

“Could you promise………that you’ll always be here for me and Tsumiki?”

Surprised at his bluntness, you didn’t realise how open Megumi would be tonight. But you just showed him a reassuring smile as you affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Well you’re in luck Gumi, that’s a promise I made to myself the day I met you”

The corners of his lips started to turn up into a smile before the front door burst open with the freak strutting in with the goofiest smile.

A scowl quickly made its way onto his face as he turned away from the idiot making his way over.

“Were you having a family bonding moment without me??? For shame!” satoru quickly threw the medicine for Tsumiki onto the table and decided to plop himself onto Megumi's chair, with Megumi still in it.

“Get off you overgrown lint-roller!” Megumi tries to hit him as Satoru faces you.

“So how was your day Sweets?” Satoru completely ignores the squirming Megumi trying to breathe.

And as you tried and failed to get Satoru off the complaining Megumi, Megumi realised although right now he’d rather be anywhere else- He also wishes to stay right here with them for as long as the universe would let him.

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By now, Megumi has fully calmed down as you helped him to his feet.

“Satoru will be home tonight and Tsumiki has been looking much better today, so why don’t we go and get some ice cream for later, hm?”

And as Megumi grabs your hand to start walking to the convenience store he realises he’ll never be alone as long as you, Satoru and Tsumiki were always with him. He doesn’t have to worry about any of you guys leaving him because you want him as much as he wants you. Screw what everyone else thinks, your little family works and no one could change that.

“Thank you, mom”

#jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #megumi fushiguro #found family #jjk x y/n #megumi needs a hug #mom reader #dad gojo #jjk x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n

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angelwhisp3rs · 1 year ago

Text

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ man like me

Pairing: RE!2 Leon x fem!reader

Summary: Leon has gone through so much training, life always made it look like he didn't luck out. Always the butt of the joke, he questioned if he would ever be a man. His partner seems to think he is man enough for her <3

Tags: Smut; bj; he cums in her face; slight sub!leon; leon gets called a fairy because he is not considered a "macho man" (i hate m*n)

Notes: First post! I'm so excited, i've been brainrotting for RE for years, and just now decided to add to the community. Love you all! Feel free to give me any tips for my writing or some prompts!

Also, please! If you are a minor, i don't feel comfortable with you interacting with my content, so no minors allowed ok?

Have you ever felt like you weren’t blessed? Well, Leon felt that every day of his life. His parents dying, his rough childhood in the orphanage, he had to work twice as harder than anyone of his peers to achieve anything. Now, as a cop, he believed that this was all in the past - he chose the manliest job of them all.

Oh, well. Turns out that stations were just an adult hangout spot for jocks that never grew out of their high school days.

The women would coo at him, calling him cute and adorable, while the older officers would sneak some comments about him being a “fairy”. Fucking idiots.

After some months working with them, Leon managed to gain at least some respect among his colleagues - he was a great cop after all, and he even managed to tone down some of the ridiculous teasing (and plain homophobia, if you ask him).

To the surprise of everyone there, a new recruit would be coming in, making Leon celebrate a little on the inside - maybe it would be his chance to stop being the butt of the joke and finally laugh along with the rest, not being the one laughed at.

He couldn't wait to finally turn his luck around.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

Turns out he is wrong. Of course things wouldn’t go his way once. The rookie was a girl - well, a woman, and a pretty one at that.

The men there went ballistic. The single, desperate for attention, and the married, aching for an affair. Used to the calm and pliant women in the precinct, the men didn’t wait for even 5 minutes to let out their disgusting comments, calling her a hot piece of their ass, some even suggesting that they could ‘teach her’ the ways around there.

They were so wrong. Cutting their comments short, she looked at them in disgust, and distributed answers that put them back into their places. Hell, she even dared to ask how the deputy’s wife wasn't arrested for animal cruelty for sleeping with a pig like him.

Leon looked at her with stars in his eyes - she was different from him after all, not letting those idiots run through her. The bigoted idiots decided that as a “punishment” to her, she would be his new partner, matching their work hours and patrolling together. That fact made him excited, but not for long. Unfortunately, his intrusive thoughts began swarming his head: “Do you really think she won’t make fun of you?” and “A woman like her would eat up a man like you”.

The only thing he could do was stand a hand to her, offering a handshake “Hi there, partner. I’m Leon Kennedy”.

She had a predatory smirk on her face, looking at him up and down. “Hi, Leon. I think we’re gonna be great partners”.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

When Leon thought she would eat up a guy like him, he didn’t think it would be like that. It was way after the time they had to clock out, and they were the only ones left in the station. Leon was backed up in the evidence room, his pants on the floor as her mouth worked around his cock, drenching it with her spit. The only sounds heard were the man trying to drone out his moans with his hand on his mouth, and her gagging as she took him as deep as she could in her throat.

To Leon, this had to be a dream - no way that would ever happen. But as he looked down, her sinful eyes looking up at him, he knew that he couldn’t even dream of something as good as this. He had to be careful not to knock out the evidence in the surrounding files, choosing to rest his hand on her ponytail - quite convenient for the situation.

“You are doing so well, baby. Why don’t you come in my face, and show them that you are the only man able to do that, huh?” She taunted him as she kept pumping his cock his her hands, slick with her saliva and the precum that drooled on his tip

Her mouth returned to his member as she kept her hands going, thriving at his blushing face and his desperate whines. The man was going crazy, it’s been so long since something other than his hand touched his cock, that the 8 minutes of her mouth - which he believed to be 30, were enough to bring him to the edge. Soon, her mouth pulls back as she jerks him faster, angling at her face as he coats it with his pearly cum, hitting her cheeks, mouth and chin.

While he believed that his soul had left his body and come back, she stood up and grabbed some tissues there to clean her face. All cleaned up, she helped him put his pants back on and pressed some kisses to his jaw, whispering to his ear “Why don’t you come over to my place and show my cunt who is the only man to fill it up?”. After that, she left the evidence room with a smirk, looking back at him once and throwing a wink at him.

Well, it turns out that luck was a person, and it finally caught up to him.

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lokischocolatefountain · 2 years ago

Text

Sundress

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Fluff, slight smut, no angst for once, slutshaming but not how you think)

She laughed freely at something his cousin said, all her nervousness from their journey to Texas leaving her little by little when his family embraced her as one of their own within minutes of meeting her. Oh and the alcohol helped too. He took her hand and played with her fingers as he sipped on his beer, smiling as he felt himself relax in the presence of the people who knew him the best.

It was unbelievable really, being back in Laredo not as the former sheriff who ran out on his bride but as a federal agent with a beautiful woman on his arm wearing his ring. She was here in a pretty sundress, sitting on the sofa in his home, laughing with his cousins as they shared embarrassing stories about him. Pops loved her, just as he expected and he just knew that if Ma was alive, she would love her too.

It could’ve just been his beer-addled mind, but he was so happy with her right there, right then that he would quit his job and just keep her right there in Laredo. He never liked the damn place, always wanted to break free and run off to explore the big bad world. But he also saw the appeal of a small town as he stared into the old picture of his parents on their wedding day. He wanted love like that. And he had it. He wanted to take care of the ranch with her, work where he lived so that he could slip into the house whenever he wanted to kiss her senseless. He wanted to wake up in the morning without worrying about going elsewhere for work and just bury himself in her warmth, make sweet love to her, have the big family he’s always secretly wanted.

“Why can’t I have a baby brother?” He recalled asking his parents, wishing to have a playmate at home. They’d tried. For many many years, they’d tried. But he didn’t know that. “It’s because you’re a naughty boy and I don’t have time for more naughty ones.” Ma said, pinching his cheeks before getting back to work with the newborn foal.

All his cousins had siblings and though he was close enough to them to not long for more kids his age to play with, he was jealous of them and angry at his parents. So he told himself all those years ago that when he was old enough, he would give his son a lot of little siblings to play with. It was stupid and childish really, but the sentiment hadn’t worn off over the years. He would like a big family someday. When they were away from all the dangers his job brought them.

Family and friends flitted out one by one, making Javier grateful that he didn’t have to kick them out to take his fiancé to bed. He loved his family and all but he had been around her for hours without being able to touch her inappropriately and that was getting to him. Kicking his family out to fuck his girl wouldn’t have been nice. And it wouldn’t have done well for his ‘Javi who left his fiancé at the altar’ reputation.

“I really like them,” she giggled as she cuddled into him on the sofa. He pressed a kiss to her lips and pulled back to find her smiling wide. He smiled back, unable to resist the infectious effects of her smile.

“Good. And they like you too. Especially pops.”

“Wooo!” She pumped her fist in the air, making him laugh. “‘S nice to have my future father-in-law’s approval.”

“Yeah well, let’s not rub it in my face,” he grumbled, recalling how unimpressed her father was with him. But he couldn’t fault the man. If his daughter came home with a guy who got shot at everyday for a living, he would be more than just unimpressed.

“Aww, Pobrecito,” she cooed before pressing wet kisses to his cheek. “He’ll come around. He’s just annoyed that you would be such a slut and have sex with his daughter under his roof before marrying her.”

“And whose fault is that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. She’d teased him all day, fucking grabbed him beneath the dinner table while carrying on conversation about work with her family.

“Whose fault?” She asked, making her eyes all soft and sweet just like the night she sneaked into the guest bedroom of her family home and begged him to fuck her. How was a man supposed to resist those sweet eyes and their filthy requests that contradicted their innocent act?

“Yours.”

“Mhmm?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay then,” she said, smiling sweetly. Nothing good came out of that innocent act. “I’ll be a good girl tonight. I’ll take my bag to the guest bedroom. Sleep there for our entire week here.”

He rolled his eyes at her and snatched her bottle of beer before emptying the contents in one gulp. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easy.

“Rude!”

“Better rude than cruel, you absolute demon of a woman.”

“Cruel!? How dare you! I’ve been on my best behavior all day. I made your family fall in love with me faster than you made my family tolerate you. Miguel loves me so much that he would marry me if you didn’t. Linda invited me on a shopping trip and José didn’t move from me for hours.”

“José is two,” he said, laughing. Babies loved everyone, right? They were just innocent little creatures who loved everything. Or that was just what he told himself when his base instincts told him to take her to his room and put a baby in her immediately.

It wasn’t his fault. It was the goddamn sundress making her look all sweet and homely and just like something he’d want to put a baby in. He was going insane. Just the sight of her fitting in so well with his family and cradling his cousin’s kid while wearing a ring that declared her his was enough for him to stop thinking practically about all the things they needed to get out of the way before having kids.

“So? He loves me. I’m just so dang lovable,” she said, poking his chest with her index finger. “Not my fault that I’m perfect and you’re a big grump my father doesn’t care for.”

“He doesn’t hate me for being a grump. He hates me because he heard his innocent little girl screaming my name at night.”

“Asshole!” She gasped and shoved him away from her, but he returned right back and kissed her on the lips. Before she could call him more names, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, laughing as he felt her grab his ass immediately. Becoming boring was one of the reasons he didn’t want to get married, but with a girl like her who wanted him so openly, there wouldn’t be a boring day in his life.

“You make me fuck you in your family home, I get to have you fuck me in my childhood bedroom,” he said, carrying her to his room.

“Around all the posters of half naked women?”

“You offended, baby?” He asked, slapping her ass. He wasn’t the half naked women plastered all over his walls kind of guy anymore. But it made him feel giddy to think she might be…jealous?

“Nope! Just regretting taking down my John Wayne and Sydney Poitier posters. I had a John Wayne poster where he’s on a horse, wearing a cowboy ha—” she gasped as he dropped her on his bed.

“He was just a fake cowboy, baby. I’m the real deal. Got a ranch and all. I’ll put on the clothes if you want me to. Get on a horse, wear the damn hat. You want that?” He asked, hovering over her as she unbuttoned his shirt.

“I don’t know, Javi…” she tutted, twirling his hair around her finger. “You might look like a clown in it since you gave up the cowboy life to be a slut in Colombia.”

“I gave up the cowboy life to chase Escobar,” he corrected, giving her a pointed look.

“Yeah, but you spend more time being a slut than chasing Escobar.”

He pinched her ass, making her shriek and slap her hand over her mouth. “Javi! Don’t make me scream. I don’t want your dad to think badly of me!”

“Oh that’s one thing I can’t do, baby. Making you scream and making you cream comes naturally to me,” he said, making her gasp in horror. She had no reason to react so dramatically seeing that he’d definitely given her worse lines in the past. But it was fucking cute.

“Slut,” she chided, pushing him away but then pulling him down to her immediately. She gave him a peck on the lips before blessing the rest of his face with her kisses. It had him smiling like a kid, laughing like he used to when he was a permanent resident of this room.

“How many girls you fuck on this bed before me, Peña?” She asked as he shrugged his shirt off and got to work on her sundress. She looked pretty as hell in it, the white cotton with lemons printed on it giving her the look of the chaste woman she was not. But she looked the part in front of his family, hair down and neatly combed, pink on her cheeks and lips, and a pretty dress that made her look the part of a fiancée any group of Tias would approve of.

“You’re the first. The only one,” he said, pushing the elastic off her shoulders and kissing the swell of her breasts. He breathed in her distinct scent mixed with her sweat and took her breast into his mouth. She tasted salty from sweating, but he was not one to be disgusted by that. He came home to her sweaty and disgusting every damn night and she took him anyway. He buried his face between her breasts and took in her scent, groaning as his cock twitched in response.

Images of her with her knees bent by her head, still wearing the damn sundress as he drilled into her cunt filled his brain.

“Riiight. Totally believe that,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You don’t trust me? You’re the only girl— woman, on this bed.”

“I don’t believe you. I know for a fact that you were a slut in high school.”

“Oh I was,” he agreed, hand diving beneath her skirt. “But I never brought girls back here. I sneaked into their bedrooms and sneaked out when we were done.”

“Of course you did,” she laughed, fucking herself on his fingers. It was sweet, having her in his family home, learning more about him and being delighted in what she found.

“It’d been a fantasy for a while actually, to bring a girl home, sleep with her on my bed. I just hated having to pull my pants up and run out before my girlfriend’s parents caught us and shot me.”

“You absolute menace!” She scolded and shook her head. He wondered if she would’ve given him her time of day had they gone to school together. He was quite the lanky kid with none of the muscles of his current body that she loved so much. He didn’t have much game either, not enough to impress her at least. She was a big city girl and all he knew at fifteen was Laredo and its oppressive walls. The Agent Javier Peña of now had slipped a diamond ring on her finger, but Javi from Laredo would’ve made a fool out of himself trying to get her to just talk to him.

Or not.

Maybe she would’ve liked him back. Maybe stupid boys with the worst pickup lines and too much confidence were her teenage self’s type.

“Would’ve sneaked into your room too,” he teased, bunching her skirt up at her waist before sucking her clit between his lips.

“Javi!” She squealed and not from pleasure. He apologized for hurting her with his desperation and placed a gentle kiss on the nub.

“My dad would’ve killed you for sure,” she said, running her hand over his arm. He flexed his muscles for her benefit and she took his offer, lavishing his arm with attention before moving a hand down his back as far as she could reach.

“Worth it for this pussy.”

He spent the night with his head between her legs, making her cry his name into her hand and then his pillow. In his head, he gave Javi from two decades ago a pat on the back. He’d gotten out of Laredo like he always wished, no matter the circumstance. He landed a pretty girl who wanted to fuck just as much as he did. He had love like his parents. He’d have a wedding he wouldn’t walk out on and someday maybe the grandchild his dad mentioned in passing.

Life was good.

Series Masterlist

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dat-town · 2 months ago

Text

so high school

Characters: Woonhak & female reader

Setting & genre: high school au, fluff

Summary: Woonhak decides to confess right after graduation before he loses his chance.

Warnings: nothing if a bit of cheesiness (and calling out Taesan) doesn't count

Words: 1.4k

Author’s note: happy bday to our giant baby! based on the prompt “wait, you knew?” “you haven’t exactly been discreet…” from here; work title was just obvious, so i ended up using the Taylor Swift song instead

Woonhak was going crazy.

He lost sight of you after Jaehyun shoved a huge bouquet of roses into his hands and insisted on taking a picture with ‘his baby’ because he was so proud that this day finally came. Woonhak however had bigger problems than taking terrible graduation pictures with him being half-distracted and his hyung’s dramatic ass looking like he was on the verge of crying for real. Sungho, being the supportive friend he was, still tried his best to take pictures of them until Woonhak decided he had enough.

“Okay, great, thanks, hyungs. Can you like… leave?” He blurted out, the words not coming out right in his hasty frustration and while Sungho was left speechless with a widened mouth, Jaehyun put a hand on his chest and faked a gasp. “I mean, to the BBQ place, jeez. I will catch up with you quickly. I just need to… uhm, do something real quick.”

There was no way he would tell his friends what he was about to do. They already babied him, god forbid they knew that he was about to confess to the girl he had liked the majority of his senior year. They would go on and on about how fast he grew up and all that. Or even worse! If you rejected him, they would turn the teasing into pity and comfort which would have been somehow worse even if appreciated. So no, Woonhak didn’t want anybody to know what he was planning not until, hopefully, he got himself a girlfriend he could brag about.

“Alright, but if you are late we get started on the food even if it’s your big day,” Jaehyun threatened at which Sungho rolled his eyes and thankfully whisked their big mouth friend away before he could further embarrass the tall boy in front of his high school classmates.

When Woonhak was finally left alone, he had his hands full with the flowers he got and a confession to make. He had half a mind to run after the guys to give them the bouquet to take with them but not wanting to lose more time he decided against it and headed to the classroom. Dropping everything he had onto his desk to collect them later he looked around in the room searching for your smile but he could only find some of your friends who were busy taking selfies to commemorate the big day.

“Hey, have you seen Y/N?” Woonhak walked up to Kyujin, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He wasn’t sure that’s why or just the question in general that made the girl raise an eyebrow suspiciously at him. He didn’t dwell on it though, glad enough when she answered.

“Yeah, she left with her parents. They have a reservation and now they are running late because of the principal’s long ass speech,” Kyujin grimaced but Woonhak was already halfway out the door by the time she finished her explanation, yelling a quick ‘thanks’ back while starting to sprint down the corridors towards the parking lot.

He was going crazy for real. If he missed you, would that be a sign from the universe that he shouldn’t even try? He had it all planned out (okay, well, he was still a P, so it was rather an idea that came to him before bed the night before), he couldn’t give up like this. After all, he wasn’t Han Taesan for heaven’s sake to miss out on this chance and then turn it into a heart-wrecking love song. He won’t be. He would tell you now how he felt and if you didn’t feel the same way it wouldn’t be as awkward as it would have been if you had to see each other every day afterwards. But he would rather have that no matter how broken he would be than losing touch with you and having to wonder about the what ifs.

It seemed like luck was on his side though because the parking lot was just as crowded as the corridors and a long line of cars was waiting to leave. He caught a glimpse of your hair as you put your flowers into a car’s trunk.

Woonhak called out your name, yelled it loudly for the entire yard to hear when you got ready to get inside the backseat and at any other time he would have been embarrassed for his actions and the attention he got for his behavior but now he had more pressing matters at hand. It was worth it in the end because your movements halted and you turned towards him instead of getting into the car.

Needless to say Woonhak was panting by the time he made it in front of you. He really should have put more effort into his PE classes because his lack of stamina was showing but for that he made up with sheer determination and a blinding smile as he looked down on you.

“Hey, what’s the matter? What happened?” You spoke up with furrowed brows and gosh, you were so cute with confusion and a bit of concern written all over your face, Woonhak wanted to smooch you but he was getting a bit ahead of himself with that.

“Nothing, I just need to tell you something,” he stated, rushing the words out before he could lose the courage he was running on.

You looked at him with big doe eyes, questioning and curious and the boy was seriously so gone because he adored the way your cheeks rounded with a smile or the moles just under your eyes. You laughed even at his lamest jokes and played video games with him until late instead of scolding that he should have been studying. You lended him your notes without him having to ask and hell, he even thought that your handwriting was cute with those doodles you tended to draw in the corners of your notebook.

“Y/N…” Woonhak called your name before he took a deep breath and looked you in the eyes. “I like you!”

He declared it right in the middle of the parking lot in earshot of at least a dozen people including your parents. This certainly wasn’t how he planned it but he didn’t want to prolong it any further or he would have gone crazy for real.

“I thought you would never say anything,” you giggled but Woonhak was too nervous to process it right away.

“You don’t have to answer right now, I know it must be sudden‒” He started before his thoughts came to a screeching halt and his eyes widened like saucers. “Wait, what? You knew?” He gasped and his voice went octaves higher as he stuttered.

“Well, you haven’t been exactly discreet…” you smiled so sweetly but Woonhak’s thoughts had been going back to replay all your interactions. Had he really been that obvious? Was it because he kept giving you his plus one drinks from the corner convenience store even when there was no such discount in place? Or that he carried hair ties with him in case you forgot yours? Or was he staring too much? Too easy on you when you played? Oh jeez, what if he blushed near you?

But if you knew and didn’t say anything, was it because you didn’t like him and he set himself up to failure? Is it the part where you tell him it’s better to stay as good friends? Are you‒

“It’s okay. I like you too,” you said before Woonhak could have hyperventilated and you tiptoed closer to peck him chastly on the cheek. Your soft lips left a tingle in their wake and the boy could feel himself redden.

“Really?” He mumbled dumbly but you just kept smiling brightly.

“Really,” you confirmed and giggled when you heard your father clearing his throat. Oh, right, you were late. Woonhak felt a bit sheepish that he kept you up and hoped he didn’t earn negative points in your parents’ favor as you whispered that you had to go.

“Text me later,” you mouthed through the darkened window after you got into the car and Woonhak felt stupidly giddy, he couldn’t stop smiling even when Sungho called him whining that they would eat up all the meat at this rate. Fortune indeed favored the bold and the lovesick.

#stories #bnd fluff #boynextdoor fluff #boynextdoor x reader #woonhak x reader #bnd x reader #woonhak fluff

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justauthoring · 10 months ago

Text

just hold me.

it's hard to find out the truth, but despite it; you still just want jesse.

a/n: no one will probably read this but i love jesse <3

pairing: jesse pinkman x f!white!reader

tw. for attempted sexual assault. also, you're walter white's daughter but no description of the reader is given.

Truthfully, you’re not even sure what you’re doing here.

But the tears pouring down your cheeks won’t stop, and your feet don’t stop moving beneath you. You’re just walking with no real destination. Your hands are shaking and everything hurts but you don’t want to go home to your apartment; it’s too silent. Going to your parents wasn’t an option either because then you’d just be riddled with questions. You thought about going to your uncles, but he’d be just as overbearing in a completely different way

And you certainly couldn’t go to Jesse’s.

He was the whole reason you were out here in the first place and you weren’t ready to face him.

Not yet.

You’re not sure if you ever would be.

“Oh, God…”

You take a sharp turn, not fully aware of where you’re even going. It’s late and dark and you don’t even really know what part of town you’re in, just that it’s far away enough that no one you know will stumble upon you–exactly what you want. You don’t want anyone to see you, not like this, and you can barely form a coherent thought in your own head so trying to explain your state would surely be nothing but bad.

No, it was best to be alone.

Try to sort out your thoughts.

Because what even were your thoughts?

It was one thing to find out your boyfriend was a drug dealer, but another to find out it wasn’t just the small things; which sure, were just as unsafe but still… not–not crystal meth and certainly not things as big ties to the cartel. You weren’t stupid and it wasn’t like you didn’t know who Jesse was. You’d gone to high school with him, and you knew the sort of people he hung around and the things he’d done… no. You weren’t stupid.

You’d known. Had a suspicion, even if you’d never asked. Because honestly, it didn’t really matter to you all that much. He was careful to keep it separate from you and he wasn’t like that with you. He’d never once tried to force you to try something or get you involved. There was a clear line he’d drawn and he refused to let it blur and you were okay with that, even if you shouldn’t, for the simple and plain fact that you loved him.

But the cartel was different. That was bigger, even if you didn’t understand the whole scope. That was a whole new scope of danger that didn’t settle right with you.

That you couldn’t just ignore. Couldn’t just turn the other way because of your feelings.

And to top it all off, he was doing it with your own father.

Cooking and selling meth with Walter White.

Your father.

You’re not thinking straight. You surely can’t be.

Because… because there was no way. There just couldn’t be.

But you remember everything that’s happened the past few months with him, starting when he’d been diagnosed with cancer all the way to the way him and your mother had been acting with each other.

Everything had been off. You didn’t need to still be living in the house to see that.

Skyler wouldn’t tell you, even when you pressed her on it but you knew she knew something. And now you had no doubt in your mind–she knew that your father was cooking and selling meth and…

“What the hell,” you huff, shaking your head in disbelief of the whole thing. It was crazy, plain and simple and it was entirely, without a doubt, true.

You realize somewhere along the way you’d stopped, found yourself in some sort of alley and had pressed yourself up against the wall to give yourself a minute. You’d been so upset and out of your mind that when you left Jesse’s you hadn’t grabbed a coat; you’d barely given yourself time to put on your shoes. He was coming towards you, trying to explain things, but you couldn’t handle listening to his explanation and had slammed the door shut in his face before he could reach you.

You’d heard him screaming for you but you’d gotten in your car before he could reach you and drove off, wound up in some bar to drink the thoughts away and now you’d gotten lost on your way back to your car.

And found yourself in an alley, all alone.

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you let out a shaky breath.

What were you supposed to do now?

You let your head fall into the palms of your hands, trying to push the heavy thoughts from your mind without much luck. It isn’t until you felt a hand fall on your arm did you look up, a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes settle on a man, a few years older than you, leering down at you with a small smile.

Your lips part but no words leave your lips.

“Hey there, little lady, you okay?”

His voice is gravelly, eyes sunken despite not being that old. His skin looks pale from what you can tell in the dark and somewhat sickly, but despite that, his eyes are set firmly on your own, and that smile never wavers.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer, remembering yourself. There’s a tightening to your chest as you feel his grip tighten on you the second you move and you’re pressing your hands against the wall behind you to try to push yourself up. “S-Sorry. Long night.”

“Looks like it,” he laughs but it isn’t pleasant at all. “You look like you’ve been cryin’.”

Raising your hand, you wipe at your cheeks, pulling back only to see your smudged and ruined mascara. “Oh,” you laugh lightly, forced, glancing to your right which leads back to the street; you hadn’t realized how far you’d crawled into the alley and just how sketchy everything around you looks.

“Yeah,” you nod at him, shuffling to the right. “Th-thanks for checking on me, but I should get going.”

“Now, hold on.”

Your chest tightens, letting out a small cry as his grip turns bruising around your arm and he gives a small tug. You’re still not sober enough, wobbly on your own feet as you stumble towards him, the movement surprising you. His free hand catches you by the waist and you tense.

“It’s too late for a lady like yourself to walk home all on her own,” he moves to explain, still with that ever unnerving smile. “Why don’t you come with me?”

“No, no, really–” you argue, pressing a hand against his chest as you try to pull your arm away. He just squeezes tighter, enough to pull an actual cry from your lips as your eyes widen, the panic doubling as your heart pounds against your chest. “Please. You’re hurting me!”

“Shh,” he says, leaning in to press his face into the crook of your neck, the hand at your waist slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “It’ll feel good. I promise.”

You try to push against his chest again but he just digs his nails into your arm and then he’s shifting, slamming your back against the wall you’d been leaning against a few minutes ago. The panic seizes you completely, your inebriated mind trying to get your limbs to work enough to shove him off but your body isn’t working the way you want and your vision is blurred. His grip is tight, shifting to press your hands together above your head and using the other to grab at your shirt, pulling it up.

“Stop,” you cry, “no! Stop!”

But he doesn’t listen. And no one else does if there even is someone else in the alley with you.

You’re completely alone.

His lips ghost across your neck and you feel like you’re going to be sick, the brick of the building biting into your skin and his nails digging into your wrist, harsh enough to draw blood. He’s raised your shirt enough to reveal your bra and his hands are working fast to unclasp the back, giving a tight squeeze before his fingers drift across the expanse of your stomach and around to the back.

You’re crying, you realize. Somewhere along the way the tears had started, pouring profusely down your cheeks, sobs wrenching from your lips as you’re defiled. The weight of him against you is suffocating and you can’t breathe properly.

You feel your bra loosen around your chest and you cry, trying to fight his grip on your hands with a new struggle, before suddenly the weight disappears off of you. You see a blur rush past you but you barely pay mind, your legs giving out beneath you as you sink to the ground, knees coming to your chest as you let out a cry.

None of your body listens to you and you can’t move even as you hear a cry and a familiar voice yelling. There’s a loud thud, followed by a repeated lighter thud, and you try to force yourself to move, push your body, and a small cry leaves your lips as you do and suddenly there’s a body in front of you.

At first you’re worried it’s the man but there’s a familiar voice calling for your name and then you recognize the blue eyes staring back at you.

Oh.

“Jesse…”

His name leaves your lips in a broken whisper and his face twists, a curse leaving his lips as he gently grabs you by the waist, pulling you towards him. “It’s okay,” he breathes, voice soft, gentle and it’s soothing in a way you can’t right describe. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

He’s wrapping something warm around you and you realize how cold you are in that moment, relishing in the warmth that envelopes you as you grab onto him. “Jesse,” you cry, this time your voice stronger but in a way that’s heartbreaking as your voice pitches and cracks. “Jesses, he… I couldn’t…”

“I know,” he huffs and he sounds mad. Is he mad at you? “I… it’s okay. He can’t hurt you, okay? Let me take you home, okay? Let’s go home.”

You grip onto him tightly, scared he’ll disappear from your own hands. “Yours,” you whisper, “i wanna go… to yours.”

He nods, even if you don’t properly process it and then his right arm is wounding around your waist, pulling against him as he slips his right arm under your knees. He holds tight but in a way that isn’t anything like the man before and it makes you feel entirely different too.

Safe.

It makes you feel safe.

Enough that finally, your eyes fall shut

When you open your eyes next, you’re in a bed.

And your mind is a lot more clear.

You blink, recognizing the ceiling, and then you’re pushing yourself up. You realize that you’re in one of Jesse’s shirts and a pair of your leggings, meaning he must’ve changed you when he brought you here. You’re thankful for that, and as you prop yourself upwards, you notice the bruises lining your wrists and the one on your arm and frown, touching it faintly, hissing at the pain that radiates as a response.

Then, a pair of footsteps pull your attention towards the door.

Jesse’s eyes widen when he sees you awake and he’s rushing forward, setting the cup of water on the table next to the bed as an afterthought. He falls on the edge of the bed and he moves to reach for you, before suddenly halting, his eyes widening and moves to pull back.

You grab for him before he can, hand falling on his and squeezing as his eyes snap up to yours.

“Thank you,” you whisper, quiet. “For saving me.”

“Fuck,” Jesse curses, face twisting. “I went looking for you everywhere… I couldn’t find you and then I found your fucking car but you weren’t anywhere near it. It wasn’t until I heard you crying that I found you and the sight of that… that man on you–like that, I just—fuck… I could've killed him.”

Letting go of his hand, you wrap your arms around yourself.

“I went to a bar after… after I left and drank too much,” you explain, eyes downcast. “I wasn’t thinking straight and I ended up in that alley and he just… that man just–” You can’t finish your words.

Jesse and you are quiet for a moment.

Then, Jesse shifts. “Listen… um… I understand if you, well—don’t want to see me anymore. I can bring you home and then go find your car for you. It’s no problem. I just…” He hesitates, scratching at his head as he avoids your gaze. “I just—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, especially with Mr. White too or–or for you to get hurt like you did… I should’ve–that never should’ve happened.”

“Jesse,” you whisper, shaking your head. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

He frowns, brows furrowing and he just huffs; “yes, it was…”

It wasn’t. You want to argue but you know he won’t listen.

So you move on.

“I do want to see you still.”

Blinking, Jesse’s eyes snap to yours.

“I know I shouldn’t,” you explain, letting your hands fall into your lap. “I know I should be… be angry or at least scared… but I’m not. I was, in the moment. But I’m not scared of you, I could never be. And I’m not angry or upset either. I just… I just want you.”

You turn to look at Jesse, begging with your eyes and he turns to look at you, hesitating–like he knows this is wrong.

So, so very wrong.

But you just look at him, pleading and he caves even if he shouldn’t. Because he just wanted you too.

So much.

So he caves and he reaches for you, arms grabbing you as he pulls you towards him, into his lap and against his chest and holds you as you cry and cling onto him.

And he never lets go.

#breaking bad #jesse pinkman #jesse pinkman x reader #jesse pinkman imagine #aaron paul

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deliciousangelfestival · 1 year ago

Text

His Silly Princess | Bucky (Oneshot)

Character: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Words Count: 1,671

Summary: A modern royal love story. A naive princess who wants to get away from an arranged marriage. She never knew that her guard had loved her since the beginning.

Main Masterlist || support me: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Zylovia is a country where monarchy still exists. It’s a developed country located near Western Europe.

It’s a prosperous country, and the number of unemployed is also the lowest. Tourists love coming here for the casino, race car, and music festival.

But this country has one outdated rule. It didn’t apply to the citizens. Only for the royal family.

“If the female royal member marries a commoner, she will lose her status."

You learned that rule when you were 12 years old as the youngest siblings and Princess Zylovia. You didn't put a deep thought into it.

But now, when you are almost 30 years old, and your older siblings are already married, you think this is good for you.

Because you realize you’re not fit to do the duty as a princess.

Your oldest brother has prepared since he was a kid to be the king. When he reaches the age of 40, he will be crowned as the king. Your second brother will be the second commander in the military.

While you have a job as a painting conservator at the museum, your duty as a princess is to welcome the official foreign guest at the castle. You learned some languages, but you’re not allowed to give any opinion on politics.

You don’t hate being a royal, but sometimes you feel like living in a golden cage.

And finally, you had enough because, on your recent birthday, your parents talked to you about marriage.

The king and queen don’t want to be separated from their youngest daughter, but they hint that they wish for her future husband from the royal circle. In other words: arranged marriage.

You clenched your jaw while smiling at your parents. If the man from the royal circle is a real gentleman, you wouldn’t mind.

But the problem is, please pardon the harsh language; none of the men from the royal family are your type.

Your type of man must have a stable job, look good in suits, and have a nice body.

That’s why, for a couple of days, you’ve made a list of potential future husbands. After you write it, you realize most of the men are from the knights. Perhaps because you always went to meet your second brother at the military training ground, so you know some people.

Steve Rogers

[Friendly, not married, nerd, loves to paint like me]

Ari Levinson

[Funny, beautiful hair, handsome]

‘Knock, knock!’ Suddenly, someone knocked on your door.

“Come in.”

You didn’t have to turn around to see who it was. You have known him for years, and your ears are familiar with the sound of his footsteps.

The person who walked into your room has been your exclusive bodyguard for years - James Barnes, but you always call him Bucky his nickname.

Bucky is a commoner and an elite soldier. If there’s a shooting competition, he will be in the top three. Your second brother always hates him.

He has received many medals of honors, but he rejects a knight title from your father. You don’t understand why he declined the offer. If he received it, he could enter politics, and he doesn’t have to follow her around anymore.

He’s tall, handsome, with perfect blue eyes and has fine muscles on his body. Bucky also has a primarily female fanbase when he wears the military uniform and rides a horse at the independence ceremony.

He became a celebrity overnight.

But you have never seen or heard any rumor about him with a woman.

“Your highness, in two hours you are going to attend the tennis tournament.”

You dropped the pen and dropped your head to the table. “Urgh. Do I have to?”

Bucky chuckled when he saw you unwilling to go. One thing you hate about your duty is to be the guest at the tennis game. You prefer to watch the race car, but it's reserved for your brother's.

Even though you didn’t want to go, you still dragged your feet to the dressing room to grab your coat.

When you were searching for the right outfit, you suddenly remembered. “Oh no!” You didn’t hide the potential list that you just wrote. You wish you could dig your own grave and disappear.

And you were right; Bucky saw your writing. He furrowed his eyebrows while he read your paper. “What’s this? Potential man for marriage?”

You stand beside him; you don’t know why you feel scared. This is the first time you have seen him like this.

His slender, pointed fingers scratched the two names with his nails. There’s a big X on your paper.

“Don’t marry any of those men.”

“Why?”

A small smile appeared on his lips, along with a soft voice, “Steve hasn’t moved on from his last girlfriend, and Ari, he loves to drink alcohol. I know you hate the smell of alcohol.”

You felt disappointed; you crumpled the paper and threw it into the trash.

“Marriage? Why all of a sudden?” There's an annoyed tone in his voice.

You rubbed your head and muttered, “I need to get married sooner, or my parents will arrange marriage for me, their friend's kid. And you know the truth, I had enough of being a princess.”

Bucky crossed his arms. “But, why them?”

“What?”

He clenched his fist; Bucky stared at her with an annoyed expression. “Why didn't you put me on the list?”

“....”

You waved your hand. “It doesn’t matter, as long as I got married.”

“So, would you like to marry me?”

Are you having hallucinations? Did Bucky just propose to you?

Bucky got on his knees. “Let’s get married.”

You still haven’t come to your senses. Bucky started talking again. “Think about it. Both of us have known each other for a long time. We’ve known each other's likes and dislikes. We’ve been through many things together.”

He’s right. He’s the safest choice if you want to marry someone. You shrugged your shoulders and accepted his hand. “Alright.”

Bucky's beautiful smile appeared on his face. Before he shook your hand, he felt you slightly pull his hand. When you saw him smile, your heart raced. “But, if in the end, we don’t like each other, please wait after three years, then we could get a divorce.”

Bucky chuckled; his attractiveness is not just in his physical appearance but also in his ability to manage his emotions gracefully and restraintfully. He leaned closer to you, and his hands gently grabbed your chin.

As his calloused hand touched your skin, a subtle warmth spread on your cheeks. You could feel you're blushing. “Silly girl, it will never happen.”

#######

[Bucky P.O.V]

Then he rests your arms on his. “Then you have the excuse to skip the tournament.”

“Hmm?”

“We should inform this first to His Majesty and Her Majesty.”

“Oh, right.” You nodded, then looked straight into his blue eyes again. “This soon?”

********

When both of you walk through the hallway to meet the King and Queen, Bucky tries his best to calm down. He almost lost his common sense when he saw you write another man's name, and there’s a word of ‘potential husband.’

He looks at you and thinks ‘his silly princesses didn’t realize his feelings for her.’

Didn’t she know he declined the offer to be a knight so he could be her guard?

If he became a knight, he would work with her second brother. That’s the last thing he wants to do.

“So, Bucky, don’t worry about money. When I resign as a princess, the kingdom will give us money.”

Bucky chuckled, seeing his sweet princess worried about their future, “That’s so sweet of you. But you don’t need to worry about that.” He gently patted her arms. He wants to tell you that he owns the famous casino in this kingdom and 5-star hotel chains in a few countries.

When both of you are married, Bucky will ensure you don’t have to work anymore. He is pretty sure that her parents will give their blessings even though he’s a commoner (and he’s super rich). The royal family has outdated rules, but because of it, he could marry you.

Both of you arrived at the king's office room. The guards bowed their heads to greet you. Then you said, “Princesses Y/N and her guard. Wait… and her future husband, James Barnes wants to meet the king.”

The guards and the butler who opened the door lost their composure. They should have known from your body language walking here together hand in hand when usually Bucky always stands behind you.

This news is shocking compared to the crown prince, who got caught partying too hard and the second prince, who had a messy love life before he got married.

It seems like your father, the King, hears your voice. Before the castle butler tells him, you hear the gentle voice, “Come in.”

########

[2 years later]

It's the biggest headline in the country after you gave birth. You feel overwhelmed; you can't believe that you're parents now.

The King and Queen hold your oldest son, while Bucky has the youngest son in his arms.

Bucky's eyes are full of love, looking both at his sons. He was almost scared to death since you gave birth one month early. But the doctor assured both of you this is normal since you're pregnant with twins.

Even though you're not a princess, you're still surrounded by your family.

And Bucky still treats you like a princess. You almost lost your mind when he told you his business, which turned into your parents, and your brothers already know it, too.

You want to knock your head; you didn't even know Bucky's business helped increase the country's GDP.

Everyone said Bucky was the lucky guy to marry the former princess, but they were wrong. It's you who is lucky to marry him.

-End-

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#bucky imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bodyguard!bucky #bodyguard!bucky x princess!reader #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine

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rainforestakiie · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! Please ignore this if you wish. I promise it will be the last time I ever bug you.

I was wondering about a story in which Adam is first orchestrated to be human’s representative in Heaven. Mutely translating to Adam picking up all the work Heaven rather not bother with. First, orchestrating the residence and basic necessities that would make humans comfortable. Emily helps but angels can only understand humans to an extent.

Adam is mentally exhausted and muffed that his afterlife has been inundated into a full time job. What made it worse was Heaven never acknowledges anything he’s done. The inventions. The farming. Parenting, etc. all of it is simply expected since he’s Adam. The one that ate the apple and nothing else.

He’s already tired by the time Sera gives him another job. Consulting with Hell. The population has basically tripled in hell after the flood and it’s beginning to be a problem. Adam, has only ever been reminded about how much of a fuck up he is. How much his descendants are sinners. How Lucifer tricked him. Or when Lilith left him. It’s all that’s ever spoken to the man that, on earth, as moved passed it. He’s had a life. The worse and the best of it. He’s suffered through his own hells of diseases, injury, disasters, child death. Winters. Bad harvest. Near starvation. All of it. And his reward has been to never stop hearing about that stupid apple, Lucifer. Lilith and Eve.

Now. He has to go and talk to them once a month. Because Heaven wouldn’t want to dirty their hands even a little.

So he goes. And the moment either of them even looks at him, Adam just mentally shuts down.

And pretends not to know them. At all. Greets them like he would any representative. Never calls them by name. Never raises his voice above monotone. And if asked about anything beyond the work, he just plays dumb. He’s just Adam. Just here to do a job. Eden? What Eden? Who’s wife? Oh, apples? Nah. I prefer pears.

If Lucifer gets annoyed and tries to get a raise, Adam just treats him like a stranger. Business. Ignoring them most of the time. Till Lucifer just snaps.

Anyway! That’s my idea. Had it for a whole year. Please ignore it. I was just happy to get it off my chest.

I’ll leave you be now. Thank you!

hello! i love this idea! i think i might have gone a little crazy? i hope you like this! i worked hard on it. i really loved how it came out~

Shut Down

Part 01 - Part 02

hope you enjoy it! and so so sorry for the wait!

The golden haze of Heaven shimmered faintly, eternal daylight casting soft halos on everything, but Adam’s heart was heavy with a darkness that could not be gilded. He stood at the edge of a celestial orchard, one he had designed—by necessity, not desire—watching humans wander the perfect rows of fruit trees. They laughed, basked in a perfection he had painstakingly carved from nothingness. Each fruit held just the right amount of sweetness. Each pathway was wide enough for families to stroll hand in hand. This place wasn’t handed to them; he had built it, from the dirt up.

But none of them knew that. No one knew, or worse, no one cared.

Emily was the only one who ever said thank you. She was small for an angel, slender and fragile looking, with eyes like quiet storms. She tried to understand humanity, tried to help Adam navigate the impossible demands Heaven had placed upon him. But angels were built for praise and worship, not empathy.

“I think the fountain by the entrance could use a little lighter,” she said one day, perched on the edge of the pristine marble basin.

Her voice was tentative, the kind of careful tone you use when you know the person you’re speaking to might break if you push too hard.

Adam wiped sweat from his brow—a pointless habit in Heaven, where no one sweated, but old habits die hard. He stared at her, his exhaustion a dull roar behind his eyes.

“Do you think that’ll make anyone notice it?” he asked bitterly. “Or me?”

Emily didn’t answer. She never did when he spiralled like this. She just stayed close, her silence a quiet balm he didn’t know he needed.

Heaven, for all its glory, had become Adam’s eternal workplace. He was its reluctant architect, its farmer, its mediator. He had planted the first seeds of the orchard. He had taught the humans how to tend them, how to live in this unnatural perfection. He had invented games for the children and written laws to keep peace. And yet, the angels looked right through him, their faces serene and empty, as though all of this had simply sprung into existence the moment humanity arrived.

And why wouldn’t they? He was Adam. The Adam. The man who had eaten the apple, ruined Eden, and dragged humanity down with him. That was the only story anyone cared about.

So when Sera appeared with another task, her wings glowing with soft, celestial light, Adam felt the last thread of his patience snap.

“You’ll need to consult with Hell,” she said, her voice dripping with divine authority.

Adam blinked at her, incredulous. “Consult? With Hell?”

“They’re experiencing… issues,” she said vaguely, as though the words burned her holy tongue. “Human souls. Integration. Something about inefficiencies.”

Adam laughed, the sound sharp and humourless. “Of course. Because when there’s a problem no one wants to deal with, it’s my problem.”

Tilting her head, Sera’s expression as blank as polished stone. “You were the first human. It is your role.”

“My role,” Adam repeated, his voice cracking under the weight of his frustration. “My role was to live, to love, to die. That was supposed to be it. I didn’t ask to be some… some cosmic janitor cleaning up Heaven’s messes!”

Emily reached for his arm, but he pulled away, the movement sharp and unkind. He regretted it immediately, but he couldn’t stop the words tumbling from his mouth.

“I gave up everything for this,” he said, his voice breaking. “My rest. My peace. My soul. And for what? So I can spend eternity fixing problems no one else wants to touch?”

Sera’s serene expression didn’t waver, and that only made his anger burn hotter.

“Why don’t you send an angel?” he demanded.

“They lack the… context,” she said, as though that explained everything.

Laughing again, hollow and bitter. Adam weakly smiled, “Of course. Because understanding humanity only matters when it’s inconvenient for you.”

Sera disappeared in a shimmer of light, leaving Adam alone with Emily and his fury. He sank onto the edge of the fountain, his head in his hands.

“Adam,” Emily began, her voice soft.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Just… don’t.”

But she didn’t leave. She never left. Instead, she knelt beside him, her presence steady and warm.

“They’ll never thank you,” she said quietly.

He looked at her, startled by the raw honesty in her voice.

“They’ll never thank you,” she repeated. “But that doesn’t mean what you’ve done doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t feel like it matters,” he said, his voice trembling.

“It matters to me,” she said, and for the first time, her voice cracked.

Adam looked at her, really looked at her, and saw the truth in her eyes. She cared—not because it was her duty, not because she was an angel, but because she had seen his struggle and chosen to stay.

The weight of her gaze was almost too much to bear. But in it, he found the faintest flicker of hope.

Maybe this wasn’t the eternity he had wanted. Maybe it was thankless and exhausting and infuriating. But as long as Emily was there, as long as someone saw him, maybe it wasn’t entirely unbearable.

And so, when the gates of Heaven opened, revealing the dark, twisting paths that led to Hell, Adam took a deep breath and stepped forward. Emily followed, her presence a quiet promise at his side.

Hell was nothing like Adam had imagined. It wasn’t the fiery pit artists had painted or the grotesque chaos preachers had warned of. No, Hell was a kingdom. Cold, sprawling, and alive. Its skies were the colour of bruised steel, its rivers slick with an oily shimmer that reflected the low, glowing embers scattered across its barren expanse. The weight of despair was heavy in the air, like the static before a storm.

Stepping through the gates; Adam’s footsteps silent on the cracked obsidian ground. He had been here so many times now that the surreal horror of it barely registered. Heaven’s emissary to Hell. What a joke. A cosmic errand boy for a celestial bureaucracy that couldn’t be bothered to handle its own messes. Hell’s population had tripled after the flood, and, naturally, it fell to Adam to negotiate solutions. Heaven didn’t want to “dirty their hands,” and Hell… Hell just enjoyed the game.

“Adam,” came the silken voice that made his stomach churn.

Lucifer sat on a throne of jagged iron, lounging with the kind of ease that only someone who ruled Hell could manage. Beside him, Lilith perched like a shadow come to life, her dark eyes gleaming with something between amusement and malice.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” Adam said flatly, bowing just enough to be polite but not enough to seem subservient.

Smiling wider, a wolfish grin that would have once made Adam’s heart race—not in fear, but in something he didn’t care to name anymore. “Majesty? Highness? Come now, Adam. When did we become so… formal?”

Adam didn’t answer. He placed his satchel on the obsidian table before the throne, pulling out scrolls and ledgers.

“The population problem is worse than Heaven anticipated,” he said, his tone devoid of inflection. “I’ve outlined potential solutions. We can start with increased partitioning of—”

“Adam,” Lilith interrupted, her voice a purr. “Don’t you even want to ask how we’ve been? It’s been, what… a century? We missed you.”

His hands stilled for the briefest of moments before continuing to unfurl the scroll. “This isn’t a social visit,” he said without looking up. “I’m here to work.”

Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin on a hand adorned with rings that glinted like fresh blood. “Work. Is that what they’re calling slavery these days?”

Adam didn’t respond.

“You always were good at taking orders,” Lilith murmured, her tone cutting but light, like a blade wrapped in silk.

He ignored her, pointing to the first chart. “Here is where the population density is highest. If we redistribute—”

“Don’t tell me you’re still sour about what happened in Eden,” Lucifer said suddenly, his voice a low hum.

Adam didn’t flinch, didn’t even glance up.

“Eden?” he repeated, as if the word were foreign to him. “What Eden?”

Tilting his head, Lucifer studied Adam like a predator watching wounded prey. “You know. The garden. Paradise.”

“Oh,” Adam said, his tone as dry as ash. “That Eden. No, I don’t think I recall.”

Lilith smirked, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—in her eyes.

“Come now,” Lucifer said, leaning back lazily. “You don’t remember the apples? The tree?”

“Apples?” Adam asked, arching an eyebrow as though the word itself was laughable. “I’m more of a pear person.”

Laughing, sharp and short, but it didn’t have the bite she’d hoped for.

Lucifer’s grin faltered, just slightly. He straightened in his seat, his golden eyes narrowing.

“And Eve?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous.

“Who?” Adam asked, tilting his head in mock confusion.

Lucifer’s expression darkened. “Your wife, Adam. The one who bit the fruit and became the mother of humanity? Surely you remember her.”

Adam stared at the chart in front of him as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Can’t say I do,” he said. “Must not have made much of an impression.”

Lilith’s smile twisted, her irritation starting to show. “You’re not very good at pretending, Adam.”

“Oh, I don’t need to pretend,” he said, finally looking up, his eyes flat and lifeless. “I don’t remember because I don’t care. Now, can we move on to the overpopulation issue, or are we going to sit here dredging up meaningless trivia all day?”

For a moment, the room was silent. Lucifer and Lilith exchanged a glance, their confidence shaken by Adam’s complete detachment.

Leaning forward again, Lucifer’s grin returning, but it was forced now.

“You’ve changed,” he said, his tone laced with faux amusement.

Adam met his gaze, and for the first time, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something cold and unyielding.

“No,” he said quietly. “I just stopped caring.”

The words hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Lucifer leaned back, his smile fading into something more thoughtful, and Lilith shifted in her seat, her sharp edges dulled by unease.

Adam turned back to his charts, his hands steady and sure. He felt nothing. Not anger, not sadness, not even relief. Just a hollow calm that carried him through the motions.

They could jab at him all they wanted. They could bring up Eden, the apple, Eve, all the failures they thought defined him. None of it mattered.

He was just Adam. Just here to do a job.

~#~

The grand hall of Hell was colder than usual, its vast expanse of jagged obsidian and molten gold eerily quiet as Adam stepped through the iron doors. His footfalls echoed, but the absence of Lilith’s pointed laughter or biting remarks gave the space an unfamiliar hollowness.

Adam’s gaze swept the room, pausing briefly on the empty throne beside Lucifer’s. His eyebrows twitched upward for a fleeting second before settling back into their usual indifference. He made a soft hum of acknowledgment, then casually unfurled the scroll of contracts in his hand.

“Well, Your Majesty,” Adam began, his voice as flat as ever. “If we could start—”

“Are you going to ask about her?” Lucifer’s voice was a low growl, the words cutting through the silence like the scrape of a blade.

Adam paused, glancing up at the fallen angel’s sharp, smouldering gaze. “Ask about who?”

Teeth clenching, the muscles in Lucifer’s jaw tightening.

“Lilith,” he hissed. “Aren’t you even the least bit curious?”

Adam blinked; his expression impassive. “No.”

He shrugged, setting the scroll on the obsidian table between them. “I don’t care enough to ask.”

The casual dismissal hit Lucifer like a slap. He rose from his throne, his wings flaring slightly, casting long, jagged shadows against the flickering walls. “You insufferable, self-righteous—”

“Are we doing this or not?” Adam interrupted, his voice carrying the faintest edge of impatience. He gestured to the paperwork. “I’ve got things to do. If this isn’t a good time, we can reschedule.”

Lucifer’s fingers curled into the armrests of his throne, his claws scraping the iron. His golden eyes narrowed, burning with a fury Adam didn’t bother to acknowledge. Finally, with a sharp click of his tongue, Lucifer hissed, “You’re really pissing me off, Adam.”

Adam didn’t even flinch. “Then perhaps we should—”

Before he could finish, Lucifer disappeared in a flash of golden flames, the heat licking at the edges of Adam’s sleeves. Adam sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Dramatic as always,” he muttered under his breath. He gathered his papers, turned on his heel, and left.

The next meeting was quieter. No jabs. No sharp comments. Lucifer lounged on his throne, his usual smirk absent, his posture uncharacteristically tense. Adam wasted no time getting to work, spreading the golden parchment Sera had drafted across the table.

“The contract outlines an extermination of souls to ease overcrowding,” Adam began, his tone monotone. “Heaven has already approved—”

“She left,” Lucifer said suddenly, his voice soft but strained.

Adam didn’t stop, his eyes scanning the contract as if he hadn’t heard.

“Lilith,” Lucifer continued. “She’s gone. Just got bored of me, I suppose.”

His tone was bitter, but there was an undercurrent of something raw beneath it. “She didn’t say much. Just… left.”

Stiffening, the faintest twitch betraying the crack in Adam’s mask, but he kept talking. “The terms are standard. A simple signature will—”

“She said I wasn’t enough,” Lucifer said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. His golden eyes were fixed on Adam, searching, waiting for something—anything—to flicker across his face.

Adam sighed, setting the parchment down. He finally met Lucifer’s gaze; his expression still as unreadable as stone.

“What does this have to do with the contract?” he asked, his voice flat. “The quicker you sign it, the quicker this is over.”

Eyes flickering with anger and something else—hurt, maybe. Lucifer stared at the golden parchment, his lip curling in disdain. “I won’t sign it.”

Adam’s patience was thinning. “Neither of us wants to be here, so—”

Lucifer’s bitter laugh cut him off. “That’s funny. Because I do want to be here.”

Raising an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised for the first time in a long while. But Adam recovered quickly, his tone slipping back into its formal detachment. “Very well, Your Majesty—”

Chair screeching as Lucifer shot to his hooves, fire erupting around him.

“Call me by my name!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber like thunder.

Adam stared up at him, unimpressed. “You are the King of Hell,” he said flatly.

Slamming a fist against the table, the impact sending cracks spidering through the obsidian.

“Don’t play this game with me, Adam!” Lucifer snarled. “You know who I am! I’m Lucifer! Lu-ci-fer!”

Adam didn’t flinch. His expression remained blank, disinterested, even as Lucifer’s fury blazed hotter.

“You were my friend once!” Lucifer bellowed, his eyes flaring blood-red, his horns curling upward as if they were reaching for the heavens. “Do you even remember what that means? Do you remember us? Do you remember Eden?”

Folding his arms, Lucifer’s gaze cold and unmoved.

“Eden?” he repeated, his voice like a dagger wrapped in frost. “Never heard of it.”

Lucifer’s wings flared wide, and his voice rose to a near scream. “It was our home! Our home! You and I—we in it together! We were supposed to be everything!”

Meeting his blood-red gaze without a hint of fear, Adam’s tone colder than Lucifer’s fire was hot. “And yet here we are.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lucifer’s chest heaved, his fiery aura flickering, but Adam remained still, a glacier unmoved by the storm.

Lucifer sank back into his throne, his horns receding, his eyes dimming. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Adam picked up the parchment, holding it out. “The contract, Your Majesty.”

Glaring at him but said nothing. The fire in Lucifer’s eyes burned low, smouldering with something heavier than anger.

He didn’t sign it that day.

~#~

The air in Hell’s grand hall was heavy with tension as Adam entered again, his steps slow and deliberate. Lucifer was already lounging on his throne, one leg crossed lazily over the other, his golden goblet glinting in the dim light. The contract lay untouched on the obsidian table between them, just as it had been at every other meeting. Adam’s eyes barely flicked toward it before he set his jaw and approached.

“Your Majesty,” Adam began, placing another copy of the parchment before Lucifer. “The extermination initiative—”

Waving a dismissive hand, cutting him off. Lucifer sighed. “Let’s not start with all that boring drivel, Adam. I’ve got time today. Do you?”

Exhaling quietly through his nose, a faint tick betraying his irritation, but Adam maintained his calm façade. “The contract—”

“Do you really not care about Eden anymore?” Lucifer asked, his voice softer now, almost wistful.

Pausing, Adam’s fingers twitching as they hovered over the document. Slowly, he looked up. “Eden is… irrelevant to the matter at hand.”

Laughing softly, the sound carrying a strange mixture of bitterness and fondness. Lucifer smirked, “Irrelevant? You loved Eden, Adam. I remember how your eyes would light up when you showed me your latest discoveries. Every new flower, every creature, every little thing—it was like seeing the world through your eyes for the first time.”

Adam’s expression didn’t waver, though his grip on the parchment tightened ever so slightly. “If you’re not going to sign the contract, we can—”

“You used to drag me all over that garden,” Lucifer continued, ignoring him entirely. His eyes glimmered with distant memories, glowing red and gold as he stared through Adam like he was looking at a ghost. “You’d get so excited whenever I came to visit. Remember? You’d grab my hand and pull me to show off some ridiculous little plant or how you’d taught a bird to sit on your shoulder.”

Adam’s voice was as flat as stone. “I don’t recall.”

Lucifer grinned faintly, his eyes narrowing with amusement, though there was a flicker of frustration behind them. “Don’t recall? I spent days with you at the beginning—night and day, making sure you didn’t poison yourself or drown yourself.”

He leaned forward, his voice warming. “You were so innocent. So sweet. So… human.”

“I’m still human,” Adam replied coolly, adjusting the golden feathered quill in his hand. “And this is still a waste of time. If you won’t—”

Gaze sharpened, Lucifer’s grin growing wolfish. “I taught you how to care for wings, remember? You surely used my technique on your wings?”

His tone turned teasing. “You couldn’t stop touching mine, asking a million questions. You were obsessed with the way they shimmered in the sun.”

Adam’s golden wings shifted slightly behind him, but his expression remained frozen.

“Sera taught me to care for my wings,” he said curtly. “I don’t remember an angel in Eden. Certainly not one who would let me touch their wings.”

The shift in Lucifer’s demeanour was immediate. His face darkened, his lips twisting into a sour frown. His gaze bore into Adam, intense and almost pleading, but Adam didn’t flinch.

“I was in Eden,” Lucifer snapped, his voice low and sharp. “I was your archangel. Your guardian. How can you pretend I wasn’t there?”

Shrugging, Adam’s tone dismissive. “Because you weren’t?” He said it like he was explaining something to a particularly slow child.

Lucifer bristled, his wings flaring slightly as the temperature in the room spiked. His claws tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his throne.

“Then how,” he hissed, his voice dangerously quiet, “Did you get that scar on your thigh?”

Adam’s composure faltered, just for a fraction of a second. His eyes flicked to Lucifer, then down to the table, before settling back on the contract. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Inching forward, Lucifer’s fiery gaze locking onto Adam like a predator cornering its prey.

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice low and insistent. “You fell down a cliff. Scraped your leg open on a jagged rock. I was the one who healed you.”

His voice rose slightly, tinged with anger. “Do you remember that, Adam? Your first taste of pain?”

Adam’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone neutral. “I don’t remember falling,” he said simply.

Lucifer’s wings flared wider, his patience fraying.

“You cried for hours!” he snapped. “You couldn’t understand what had happened to you, why you were bleeding, why it hurt. I carried you back to the spring and healed you myself.”

His voice softened slightly, almost pleading. “You trusted me, Adam. Do you really not remember?”

Adam finally looked up, his face impassive but his eyes faintly cold.

“I remember plenty,” he said flatly. “But not you.”

Recoiling slightly as if the words had struck him. Lucifer’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenching as his fiery gaze bore into Adam’s unflinching mask.

For a long moment, the hall was silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then Lucifer leaned back in his throne, his expression twisting into something bitter and raw.

“Of course,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why would you?”

Adam picked up the quill again, his focus returning to the contract. “If you’re done reminiscing, perhaps we can proceed with the matter at hand.”

Lucifer didn’t respond. His wings folded tightly against his back, and he stared at the parchment with a glare that could melt stone.

He didn’t sign it. Again.

~#~

The grand hall was eerily silent when Adam entered, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Lucifer was already there, sprawled across his throne with a confidence that felt exaggerated, almost theatrical. The obsidian table between them bore the familiar contract, but Adam didn’t bother expecting progress. He strode forward, his demeanour calm and professional, placing the golden quill beside the parchment before sitting down.

“Your Majesty,” Adam began, his tone flat and businesslike, “the extermination contract. Heaven’s representatives are still awaiting—”

Lucifer cut him off with a gleeful chuckle, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, Adam, must you be so boring every time? We have centuries together, yet you insist on skipping the pleasantries.”

Adam blinked slowly, unimpressed. “Pleasantries won’t sign the contract.”

Ignoring the quip, Lucifer’s grin widening like a Cheshire cat’s. “Let’s talk about something more interesting—like Lilith.”

Adam’s expression didn’t flicker, though he adjusted his posture slightly, folding his hands in his lap. Lucifer took the silence as an invitation to continue, his voice practically dripping with smugness.

“You do remember Lilith, don’t you?” Lucifer asked, his grin sharp and mocking. “The first woman? Your first wife?”

Adam tilted his head, a faint crease forming between his brows as though he were searching his memory.

“I remember… another woman,” he said slowly, his tone detached. “But I can’t say what her name was or why she left. If she did leave, though, I suppose it was for the best.”

Freezing, Lucifer’s smirk faltering. “For the best?” he echoed, his voice incredulous.

Adam shrugged. “I don’t even remember her, so she mustn’t have been very important.”

The words struck Lucifer like a slap, and his smugness dissolved into irritation. His wings twitched, his claws tapping against the armrest.

“She was important,” he snapped. “She left because of you. You were cruel to her, dismissive, demanding—don’t you remember what you put her through?”

Adam looked at him evenly, his face an unmoving mask of neutrality. He waited for Lucifer’s rant to burn itself out before cocking his head slightly, as though observing a child mid-tantrum.

“Are you finished?”

Lucifer blinked, his eyes wide and uncharacteristically unsure. He slumped back into his throne, glaring at Adam. “Do you really not feel anything for Lilith?”

Adam shrugged again; his expression unreadable. “Obviously not. I don’t even remember her.” He paused, tilting his head. “You mean the queen, right?”

Lucifer nodded stiffly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then no,” Adam continued smoothly, “I don’t remember meeting the queen before these meetings.”

Lucifer let out a frustrated huff, but his eyes betrayed something deeper—a flicker of desperation, perhaps. He leaned forward again, his voice softening as he pressed on.

“Lilith and I… we spent so much time together in Eden. Sneaking around, giggling, learning, experiencing everything for the first time.” His tone turned smug again, though there was a nervous edge to it. “We had so much fun, Adam. You… must remember that?”

Adam sighed, shifting his weight slightly. “I really don’t care what the king did with his queen. It’s not my concern.”

Lucifer bristled, his wings flaring slightly. “Of course it’s your concern! She was your wife!”

Adam frowned, his brows knitting together as though trying to make sense of the words.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” he asked, his tone flat and almost bored. “If what you’re saying is true, then you haven’t been much of a friend.”

Lucifer stiffened, his smug demeanour cracking. “What do you mean?”

Adam rolled his eyes slightly, twirling a finger in the air as if outlining the obvious. “Let’s say, for your sake, that your story is true. You just admitted to me that you—my supposed best friend—went out of your way to teach me betrayal. To show me what it felt like to be cheated on.”

He paused, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. “Imagine. My wife and my best friend.”

Lucifer sat in stunned silence, the words visibly sinking in. His claws dug into his knees, his wings trembling slightly as he stared at Adam with wide eyes.

“That’s… the truth,” he murmured finally, his voice quiet and almost hollow. “I’m a terrible friend.”

Adam’s gaze didn’t waver. “But hey,” he said dryly, “None of that actually happened, so who cares?”

Lucifer’s head snapped up, his golden eyes blazing. “It did happen!” he hissed. “And it should matter!”

Adam shook his head, his expression calm and disinterested.

“Not to me.” He pushed the contract forward again. “Now, about the extermination initiative—”

Lucifer ignored the parchment entirely, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something fragile.

“Did you… really hurt her?” he asked softly. “Like she claims?”

Adam looked at him sharply, his brows raising in faint disbelief.

“You know,” he said slowly, “for someone who claims to be my best friend once, to have known everything about me, you should already know the answer to that, shouldn’t you?”

The words hit Lucifer like a physical blow. He stiffened, his claws digging deeper into his knees, his wings shuddering as the weight of Adam’s words sank in. For a moment, he looked almost small, his fiery arrogance dimming.

Adam waited a beat, then tilted his head, his tone turning brisk and professional again. “Are you ready to focus on the contract now, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer didn’t respond, his wide eyes fixed on Adam as though searching for something—anything—beneath his impenetrable mask. But Adam simply stared back, calm and unmoved, until Lucifer finally slumped back into his throne, defeated and silent.

He doesn’t sign the contract then either.

~#~

Adam sat across from Sera in Heaven’s towering council chamber, his face calm but his wings faintly drooping with frustration. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, her eyes sharp as they bore into him.

"Adam," Sera began, her voice firm. "Why is this taking so long? The extermination contract should’ve been signed weeks ago."

Adam sighed, running a hand through his golden hair. "The King is being... difficult."

Sera raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to elaborate.

"He keeps wanting to go down memory lane," Adam said, his tone flat. "It’s always something about Eden, or Lilith, or Eve. He’s fixated on the past, and it has nothing to do with the task at hand."

Sera leaned forward, her tone clipped and impatient. "Then give him what he wants. Humour him. Anything to get this over with."

Adam frowned, crossing his arms. "I’m not going to play his games, Sera. This is about Heaven’s decree, not indulging the King of Hell’s nostalgia."

Sera huffed, but didn’t press further. She dismissed him with a wave, muttering something about how things always became messy when the traitor was involved. Adam left the chamber with his shoulders squared, but the weight of her impatience still lingered as he prepared for yet another meeting.

The grand hall was quieter than usual when Adam entered for his next session with Lucifer. The atmosphere felt heavier, and it immediately struck him that Lucifer wasn’t his usual smug self. Instead, the King of Hell sat slumped on his throne, his golden eyes dim, his expression unreadable.

Adam hesitated briefly before walking to the table and unfurling the parchment.

"Your Majesty," he began in his usual calm tone, "I’ve revised the extermination proposal to address—"

Lucifer raised a hand, cutting him off. For a moment, he simply stared at Adam, his cheek resting on his palm, his expression weary. Then he spoke, his voice soft and almost sorrowful.

"Do you know about Eve? About what I did?"

Adam’s pen paused mid-motion, but he didn’t look up.

"It doesn’t matter," he said simply, returning his attention to the parchment. "Let’s focus on the contract."

Lucifer exhaled sharply through his nose, sitting up straighter.

"I’m worse than a bad friend," he said bitterly. "I’m a scumbag."

Adam finally looked at him, his brows knitting in faint confusion. "What are you talking about now?"

Lucifer’s claws tapped against the armrest of his throne, his gaze hardening. "The apple…The apple of knowledge. I gave it to Eve. And afterward… I had sex with her."

Adam’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he clicked his tongue. "This means nothing to me. Why are you so keen to tell me these stories?"

"They’re not stories," Lucifer snapped, leaning forward. "They happened. And they should matter to you!"

Adam shrugged helplessly. "They don’t. I only care about the contract."

Lucifer ignored him, his voice growing louder, more desperate. "I lured Eve to the tree. Told her about the world outside Eden. Told her she was Heaven’s puppet. I offered her freedom. I offered her the apple, and she was so eager to take it. And after—"

"Your Majesty," Adam interrupted, his wings shifting as he let out a deep, weary sigh. "Please. Can we just get back to—"

Lucifer slammed his fist on the armrest, his voice trembling. "I betrayed you, Adam. I betrayed you in every way possible."

He rubbed his face, his claws dragging over his skin. His voice cracked as he went on. "I didn’t just betray you with Eve. I betrayed you with Lilith, too. I helped her cheat on you—with me. Your best friend. Your guardian angel."

Adam’s expression didn’t waver, but his chest tightened painfully at the words. He kept his face blank, refusing to let any emotion show.

Lucifer laughed bitterly, his hands trembling as he looked down at them. "I should’ve known it was all lies. The moment Lilith told me you were hurting her, bossing her around—I should’ve known. You wouldn’t even know how to do that. You were pure, untouched by sin. There were no sins in Eden."

He looked up at Adam, his golden eyes glassy. "And I failed you. I failed as your friend, as your guardian angel. I believed her lies because of my own pride. I didn’t question her. I didn’t think. I just… gave in."

Lucifer’s voice dropped to a whisper, filled with shame. "I stained you with Lilith. I stained you with Eve. I stained everything I touched. I’m a terrible friend, Adam. A terrible guardian. And I’m so sorry."

Adam’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to remain still. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but he wouldn’t allow himself to break. He cleared his throat softly and said, "If I accept your apology, will you be serious?"

Frowning, Lucifer’s wings shifting uneasily. "I am being serious."

Shaking his head, Adam gestured to the parchment between them. "Then sign the contract."

Lucifer’s expression darkened, his sharp teeth bared as he hissed, "Is the contract all you care about?"

"Obviously." Adam snorted softly.

Lucifer let out a growl, his claws digging into the table. "I’ve had enough of this game, Adam! I get it, okay? I’m a shitty angel. A shitty friend. Just… shitty in general. But come on!"

His voice cracked, and his wings drooped. "Enough’s enough!"

Adam didn’t react to Lucifer’s outburst, his face calm and dull. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the storm to pass.

Once Lucifer’s anger burned itself out, he slumped in his throne, staring at Adam with wide, almost pleading eyes. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Finally, Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, quiet and trembling.

"Do you seriously not care about anything?"

Adam looked at him steadily. "I care about one thing."

Lucifer’s face fell, his shoulders slumping further.

"It’s not the contract," he muttered bitterly. "You don’t care about the contract."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "What do you want, then?"

Lucifer’s golden eyes glistened as he stared at Adam, his voice breaking. "I want you, Adam. I want my Adam back."

Adam rolled his eyes, his tone flat. "You are acting childish."

Lucifer shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I know I’ve fucked up. I know I have a lot to make up for. But please… please, Adam, stop this game. It’s killing me."

Adam said nothing, only pushing the contract forward again. Lucifer stared at him for a long moment before golden flames erupted around him, and he disappeared without another word.

Adam sat alone in the grand hall, his chest tight, his wings heavy. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. Then, with a shake of his head, he rose and left the room.

Adam barely made it to the quiet sanctuary of his chamber before the dam broke. As soon as the heavy door shut behind him, sealing him off from the endless corridors of Heaven and the prying eyes of the angels, he crumpled to his knees. His wings drooped low, their golden feathers dragging against the pristine floor.

The first sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. It was raw, ugly, and filled with years of pain he thought he’d buried deep enough to forget. But Lucifer’s words from their meeting echoed endlessly in his mind.

"I failed you."

"I betrayed you."

"I stained everything I touched."

Adam clutched at his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his robes as though trying to dig out the ache that burned there. It hurt—a deep, soul-crushing hurt that he couldn’t suppress anymore.

Lucifer’s confessions had ripped open old wounds Adam hadn’t even realized were still there. He didn’t want to care, didn’t want to feel anything for the King of Hell. But hearing Lucifer lay himself bare like that—seeing the raw guilt and sorrow in his golden eyes—it was unbearable.

Memories flooded his mind, unbidden and sharp. He remembered Lilith’s laughter, her soft voice, the way she used to press her hand to his chest as though she could feel his heartbeat. He remembered the warmth of Lucifer’s wings as they shielded him from Eden’s rains, the way the archangel had always been there to steady him when he stumbled.

And then, he remembered the betrayals. Lilith’s coldness as she left him for Lucifer. Lucifer’s smug grin the first time he had bragged about it. Eve’s wide, curious eyes as she stepped closer to the forbidden tree, her hand reaching for the apple.

Adam’s sobs grew louder, shaking his entire body. His wings twitched and trembled, the golden feathers ruffling as though they shared his pain. It wasn’t just the betrayals that hurt. It was the weight of it all. The weight of knowing he was supposed to be the first, the purest, the perfect creation. And yet, all he’d ever was a pawn in someone else’s games.

His fists slammed against the floor, the impact sending dull echoes through the room.

"Why?" he choked out, his voice thick with tears. "Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?"

He hated Lucifer in that moment. Hated him for dredging up the past, for forcing Adam to remember things he didn’t want to remember. But more than that, he hated himself for still caring.

“Why couldn’t you have just gone alone with the game?”

The tears wouldn’t stop. They poured down his face, soaking the floor beneath him as his sobs wracked his body. He felt raw, exposed, as though every part of him had been torn open and left to bleed.

How much longer could he take this? How many more meetings could he endure before he shattered completely?

He pressed his forehead to the cool floor, his wings splayed out around him in a mess of gold and white.

"It’s too much," he whispered brokenly. "I can’t… I can’t do this anymore."

But he had to.

Sera was counting on him. Heaven was counting on him. And no matter how much it hurt—no matter how much Lucifer’s words ripped him apart—Adam couldn’t let them see him falter.

After what felt like hours, his sobs began to quiet, though the ache in his chest remained. He wiped at his face with shaking hands, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to compose himself.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him. His wings twitched, and he forced them to fold neatly behind his back, though the effort made his muscles ache.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room. His eyes were red, his face pale, and his hair dishevelled. He looked like a man on the brink of breaking.

But he couldn’t break. Not yet.

Straightening his robes, Adam took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He wiped the lingering tears from his face, forcing his expression back into the calm, stoic mask he’d worn for so long.

The pain was still there, sharp and suffocating, but he shoved it down. He had a job to do.

His pain could wait.

~#~

The moment Adam stepped into the throne room, he knew something was…off. Lucifer was sprawled sideways across his throne, one leg dangling over the armrest, and a half-empty bottle clutched loosely in his hand. His grin was wide and childlike, eyes half-lidded and gleaming with a mischievous light.

"Adam!" Lucifer exclaimed, his voice slurring slightly as he waved the bottle in greeting. "It's been forever!"

Adam stopped in his tracks, his wings twitching behind him.

"It’s been three days," he said, frowning.

Lucifer cackled, the sound rich and full, echoing in the cavernous space. "Forever!" he insisted, dragging out the word as he swung his legs around to sit upright—barely. He swayed dangerously and only just caught himself on the arm of the throne.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. "Are you… drunk?"

Lucifer gasped theatrically, clutching his chest like Adam had just stabbed him. "Me? Drunk? How dare you insinuate such a thing, Adam!"

He tried to look offended but immediately broke into a wide grin. "Okay, maybe just a little."

He held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.

Adam stared at him, baffled. He’d never seen anyone drunk before, let alone Lucifer in such a state. Heaven didn’t have alcohol—there was no reason for it. And yet, here was the King of Hell, giggling like a child and swinging a bottle of what smelled suspiciously like something sweet and fermented.

"Your majesty," Adam began cautiously, "We have business to discuss. This contract—"

"Business, business, business!" Lucifer interrupted, waving his hand dramatically as if to physically push Adam’s words away. He sat up straighter—or tried to—and pointed at Adam with the neck of the bottle. "You’ve got to read it to me! I wanna hear your angel voice say all those long, boring words. It’s so cute!"

Adam blinked. "You want me to read—?"

"Yes! Read it! Read it!" Lucifer chanted, giggling uncontrollably.

Sighing, Adam unrolled the parchment and began to read aloud, his voice even and measured. But every time he said something particularly formal or legal-sounding, Lucifer erupted into giggles, his hand covering his mouth like a mischievous child.

"Clause thirty-two subsection B states—"

"Pfft! Subsection!" Lucifer wheezed, doubling over and nearly toppling off his throne.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience fraying.

"You’re drunk," he said flatly.

Lucifer gasped again, this time more dramatically than before.

"I am not!" he declared, though his lopsided grin and glassy eyes betrayed him. He leaned forward, his face inches from Adam’s.

"Okay, maybe I am. Just a little," he admitted, his grin turning sheepish. "But that’s only because it makes me feel better."

Adam’s brows furrowed. "Feel better about what?"

Lucifer didn’t answer. Instead, he reached behind his throne and, with a flourish, produced another bottle. He held it out to Adam. "Here. You should try it!"

Adam raised an eyebrow and pushed the bottle away. "No, thank you."

Lucifer huffed, setting the bottle aside and slumping forward onto the table between them. He rested his chin in his hands, staring up at Adam with a dreamy smile.

"You’re so serious all the time now," he said, his voice softer but still tinged with that drunken lilt. "It’s not fair."

Adam crossed his arms. "What’s not fair?"

Lucifer sat up suddenly, pointing at him with a pout. "Before, we used to snuggle! Under the sun, under the moon! You used to play with my wings and my hair! You loved my hair!"

Adam froze, his wings twitching nervously.

"That… never happened," he said stiffly.

"It did!" Lucifer insisted, his voice rising in pitch as he nearly climbed onto the table. "You’d brush my feathers and laugh at my stupid jokes and—oh!"

His attention shifted abruptly to Adam’s golden wings, his eyes lighting up with childlike wonder.

Before Adam could react, Lucifer was reaching out, his fingers tangling gently in the soft, shimmering feathers.

"Your wings," Lucifer murmured, his voice filled with awe. He ran his fingers through them, his touch light and teasing. "So beautiful. Are they as sensitive as mine?"

Adam jerked away, his wings folding tightly against his back.

"Your majesty," he said warningly.

But Lucifer only pouted, ducking under Adam’s arm and pushing himself into his lap. Adam stiffened, completely frozen as Lucifer wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

"You don’t love me anymore," Lucifer mumbled, his voice muffled against Adam’s chest.

Adam blinked, utterly at a loss.

"Your breath stinks," he said flatly, his tone the only defence he had against the absurdity of the situation.

Lucifer pulled back just enough to grin up at him, his face far too close.

"You used to like my hugs," he said, his tone playful but tinged with sadness.

Adam opened his mouth to retort but snapped it shut when Lucifer began to purr—a soft, rumbling sound that was entirely unexpected. Adam stared down at him, his mind racing for a way to handle the drunk, overly affectionate King of Hell currently snuggled against him.

Lucifer’s grin widened as he nuzzled closer, his purring growing louder.

"Missed this," he murmured, his voice thick with drunken sincerity.

Adam sighed deeply, his wings twitching with barely restrained frustration. "Your Majesty, you’re drunk. And ridiculous."

"And adorable," Lucifer added, giggling.

Adam didn’t respond, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out how to extract himself from the situation. But as Lucifer’s purring softened and his grip around Adam loosened, Adam realized the King had fallen asleep.

For a moment, Adam just sat there, staring down at Lucifer’s peaceful face. His heart ached, but he shoved the feeling aside.

"Ridiculous," he muttered again, carefully shifting Lucifer off his lap and onto the table. Lucifer barely stirred, mumbling something unintelligible before snuggling into the smooth surface.

Adam stood, straightening his robes and wings with a sigh. This was going to be a long negotiation.

Clearly, Lucifer did not sign the fucking contract that day either.

~#~

The tension in the air was thick as Adam entered the meeting room, his steps slow and deliberate. His golden wings drooped slightly, betraying his exhaustion. He had endured over a year of these tiresome meetings with Lucifer, each one feeling more like a test of his patience than a genuine negotiation. The King of Hell refused to take anything seriously, flitting between drunken antics and cryptic ramblings. Adam’s patience was wearing thin, and Sera’s growing frustration with him only added to his burden.

This time, however, as Adam stepped into the room, the sight that greeted him was unexpectedly… mundane.

Lucifer sat at the table, two steaming cups of tea before him, his demeanour oddly calm. His piercing eyes lit up when he spotted Adam, and he gestured grandly to the tea.

"Adam!" Lucifer chirped. "Perfect timing. I’ve prepared tea!"

Adam froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the setup.

"Tea?" he repeated, his voice flat.

"Green tea, to be specific," Lucifer said cheerfully, lifting his own cup and inhaling the fragrant steam with exaggerated delight.

Adam stared at him, his exhaustion mingling with disbelief. "Are you drunk again?"

Lucifer gasped, clutching his chest as though Adam had insulted his very existence.

"Drunk? Me? No, no, no! I’m as sober as a judge," he declared, then winked. "Well, maybe not one of Hell’s judges, but you get the idea. It’s tea, Adam. Harmless, non-poisoned, entirely respectable tea."

Adam’s sceptical gaze shifted to the cups. "Non-poisoned," he echoed.

Lucifer leaned forward, grinning like a cat. "One little tea with me isn’t going to hurt anyone, angel."

Adam sighed, the weight of the past year pressing down on him. Against his better judgment, he sat down and picked up the tea. He took a cautious sip, and though he refused to acknowledge it aloud, the tea was… surprisingly good.

Lucifer beamed, watching Adam drink as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "See? No explosions, no hexes, no sneaky curses. Just good tea and good company."

Adam set the cup down with a soft clink and straightened his posture.

"Enough distractions," he said, his tone firm. "Let’s discuss the contract."

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair and cradling his tea.

"Actually," he said, interrupting Adam before he could dive into the terms, "I want to add something."

Adam blinked, his wings twitching.

"You want to add something?" he repeated, his disbelief evident.

Lucifer nodded, his smile warm and genuine, catching Adam off guard. "Yep. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now."

For a moment, Adam was at a loss for words. In over a year of meetings, Lucifer had never once shown interest in altering or even acknowledging the contract’s terms. His sudden change of heart was… unexpected.

"Like what?" Adam asked, his tone cautious.

Lucifer took a leisurely sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Adam. The intensity of his gaze made Adam grunt softly and take another sip of his own tea, as if the act might shield him from the King’s scrutiny.

This seemed to please Lucifer, who chuckled softly before finally answering. "I want to add a clause that states Heaven isn’t allowed to touch the Hellborns during the Extermination."

Adam frowned, his brows knitting together. "The Hellborns?"

Lucifer nodded, his expression unusually serious. "They have no part in this war between Heaven and Hell. They’re innocents, Adam. This mess between us is our fault, not theirs."

Adam stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the sly smirk, or the teasing remark that would reveal Lucifer’s true intent. But none came. The King of Hell seemed completely sincere.

After a moment, Adam nodded slowly. "I’ll run it past Sera…But I can’t imagine her rejecting the condition."

Lucifer’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands together.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, his cheerfulness returning in full force.

As Adam made a note of the amendment, Lucifer leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his hands as he watched Adam with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You know," Lucifer began, his tone light and teasing, "This tea really suits you. The golden glow of your wings, the calm, regal way you sip it… you’re practically a painting come to life."

Adam glanced at him, unimpressed.

"You’re being ridiculous," he said, returning his focus to the parchment.

Lucifer grinned. "Am I? Or am I just appreciating the finer things in life?"

Adam didn’t respond, his attention firmly on the contract.

Undeterred, Lucifer continued, his voice softening. "You know, back in Eden, I always thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot, Adam, I’d truly like to have a closer look someday.”

The words went straight over Adam’s head, as they always did, and he simply hummed in acknowledgment without looking up.

Lucifer’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew Adam wouldn’t catch on immediately, but the anticipation of Adam eventually realizing the meaning behind his words was a delight in itself.

"One day, you’ll figure it out," Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Adam. He leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea with a contented sigh.

For now, he was happy to play the long game.

~#~

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting warm shadows on the ornate table set with a spread of fruits, bread, and cheeses. It was absurd, and Adam knew it. Meetings with Lucifer had become increasingly ridiculous, but this one took the prize. Candles? Food? Was this some kind of prank?

Lucifer sat across from Adam, lounging with a lazy grin on his face, looking far too pleased with himself. He reached for a grape, popping it into his mouth as his crimson eyes glimmered with mischief.

"Are we really doing this?" Adam muttered, his golden wings shifting as he glanced at the table in exasperation.

Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Why not? You’re always so stiff, Adam. Meetings don’t have to be boring. Relax for once."

Adam frowned, the corner of his mouth twitching as he struggled to keep his composure. "I’m here for business, not… whatever this is."

Lucifer sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "You wound me. I go through all this trouble, and you call it whatever this is?"

He gestured at the table, his fingers trailing dramatically through the candlelight.

Adam rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Lucifer cut him off.

"Wait, wait," the King said, his grin widening. "I have an idea. Let’s play a game."

"A game?" Adam echoed, sceptical.

"Twenty questions!" Lucifer declared, clapping his hands together. "I ask a question, then you, and so on. Simple, harmless, and you might even have fun."

Adam’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Or, we could finish the contract."

Lucifer whined, reaching across the table to grab Adam’s hand. His touch was warm, his claws tracing light circles over Adam’s skin.

"Please," he whispered, his voice soft and pleading.

Adam’s frown deepened, his golden eyes narrowing at the King’s unrelenting smile. Despite himself, he sighed deeply and sank back into his chair.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But only to get this over with."

Lucifer purred, his grin so wide it almost looked innocent.

"Wonderful!" He leaned forward, practically buzzing with excitement. "I’ll start. What’s your favourite colour?"

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. After a moment, he muttered, "Blue."

Lucifer’s smile softened. "I thought so," he murmured. "It suits you."

Adam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your turn, then. What’s your favourite colour?"

Lucifer laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Green," he said without hesitation.

"Oh," Adam said, blinking.

The game continued, the questions starting out sweet and innocent. Lucifer asked Adam about his favourite flowers (he didn’t have one, he loved them all) and favourite food (he didn’t really eat). Adam, in turn, simply repeated Lucifer’s questions back to him, unsure of how else to participate.

Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed delighted by Adam’s awkwardness, his grin never faltering.

But then, the questions shifted.

"Have you been in a relationship since Eve?" Lucifer asked, his tone light, but his eyes watching Adam closely.

Adam frowned slightly, the question catching him off guard.

"No," he said honestly. "I haven’t been in a relationship ever."

Lucifer tilted his head, a soft, almost sad sound escaping his lips.

Adam, feeling obligated, asked, "Have you been in a relationship since the Queen left?"

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with amusement, his grin turning sly.

"Nope," he said, popping the "p" for emphasis. "I don’t want any repeats."

Adam blinked, confused. "Repeats?" he asked.

Lucifer shifted closer, his fingers tracing faint lines over Adam’s arm, the touch sending an odd shiver through the angel’s body. His voice dropped into a low, teasing tone.

"I’m only interested in one of a kind," he said, his eyes locking onto Adam’s, “The first, you could say.”

Adam leaned away, his frown deepening. "You’re the weirdest king ever," he said flatly.

Lucifer laughed, his grin nothing short of radiant. "Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the flickering candlelight dancing between them. Then, Lucifer’s expression softened, his gaze turning almost wistful.

"You know, Adam," he said quietly, "it’s been almost two years. And you still won’t call me by my name."

Adam frowned, confused. "You’re the King of Hell. Why would I—"

Lucifer pouted, the expression oddly endearing.

"I miss the way you used to say my name," he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Adam shook his head, unsure how to respond. He felt an odd tightness in his chest, but he quickly shoved the feeling aside.

"You’re impossible," he muttered, reaching for his tea again.

Lucifer only smiled, his gaze lingering on Adam as though he were the only thing in the room that mattered.

“Let’s eat Adam, I made ribs for you~”

“I don’t eat meat,” Adam grunted.

Lucifer paused in thought. He didn’t know that. It made sense.

So, Adam’s a vegetarian?

~#~

The next meeting caught Adam off guard the moment he stepped into the chamber. The table was spread with an elaborate feast, a stunning array of vegetarian dishes carefully plated like works of art. Brightly coloured fruits shimmered like jewels, crisp salads were adorned with edible flowers, and warm loaves of bread sat beside steaming bowls of soup. The centrepiece was a towering platter of roasted vegetables, perfectly seasoned and garnished with herbs.

Adam stopped in his tracks, his golden wings twitching slightly as he stared at the display. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and he turned his gaze to Lucifer, who stood nearby, beaming like a proud artist unveiling his masterpiece.

"As a vegetarian," Lucifer announced with a flourish, "I’ve prepared the best for you~"

His crimson eyes twinkled with mischief, and his voice was thick with pride.

Adam tilted his head, staring at Lucifer as if trying to decipher some grand puzzle.

"You’re a vegetarian?" he asked slowly.

Lucifer chuckled, shrugging with mock modesty. "Of course! I couldn’t possibly harm a single creature. It would ruin my delicate charm." He winked.

Adam didn’t even try to hide his scepticism. "I’m beginning to see these meetings are becoming... weird," he muttered, folding his arms.

Lucifer snickered, crossing the room to stand beside Adam. "Weird?”

“Weird in what way?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a softness in his gaze.

Adam didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the food, his stomach betraying him with a low growl. It did look good. More than good. The spread reminded him of the vibrant, abundant meals he and Eve used to share in Eden before… before everything fell apart.

Lucifer, ever perceptive, leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a playful purr. "Please, Addie~" The nickname rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, it made Adam’s wings twitch. "Please try my cooking! I’m sure you’ll like it. And I’ve made some beautiful pancakes for dessert."

He gestured dramatically toward the corner of the table, where a stack of golden-brown pancakes rested, dripping with syrup and adorned with fresh berries.

Adam sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First of all, stop calling me that," he grumbled. But when he glanced up at Lucifer, the King’s wide, hopeful grin made it hard to hold onto his irritation.

Lucifer clasped his hands together, swaying slightly. "But it suits you so well! Addie sounds so sweet, just like you~"

Adam rolled his eyes, his face heating slightly despite himself.

"Second," he said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track, "We’re supposed to be discussing the contract, not… indulging in whatever this is."

Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. "Business can wait. You look like you haven’t eaten in centuries. Come on, Adam. Just a bite?"

He stepped closer, grabbing a plate and holding it out like an offering. His grin softened into something gentler, almost pleading. "For me?"

Adam hesitated, his golden eyes narrowing. But the aroma wafting from the table was too tempting, and his stomach protested loudly again. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he grabbed the plate from Lucifer’s hands.

"Fine," he muttered. "But only because you won’t shut up about it."

Lucifer’s entire face lit up as he watched Adam sit down and reach for the nearest dish. The angel piled his plate with roasted vegetables and fruit, poking at the food with his fork as if expecting a trap. Lucifer sat across from him, chin resting on his hands, watching with an almost childlike anticipation.

Adam raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to stare at me the entire time?"

Lucifer smirked, not even trying to deny it. "Maybe. You’re adorable when you’re flustered."

Adam ignored him, taking a bite of the roasted vegetables. The flavours hit his tongue like a revelation—perfectly balanced, rich yet light, with just the right amount of seasoning. He blinked, caught off guard by how good it tasted.

Lucifer’s grin widened. "Well? What do you think?"

Adam chewed slowly, swallowing before muttering, "It’s… fine."

Lucifer gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Fine? Just fine? That’s the best you can do?"

"It’s food," Adam said flatly, though he couldn’t hide the slight twitch of his lips. He reached for more vegetables, trying to focus on his plate and not on the way Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with delight.

As the meal continued, Lucifer chatted away, his voice light and teasing. He asked Adam about his favourite foods, about his memories of Eden, about anything that came to mind. Adam, still wary, answered in clipped sentences, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind.

When they reached dessert, Lucifer slid the plate of pancakes toward Adam with a flourish.

"And now," he declared, "the pièce de résistance."

Adam eyed the pancakes warily before cutting into them with his fork. He took a small bite, and his eyes widened slightly. They were… perfect. Fluffy, sweet, and melt-in-your-mouth good.

Lucifer leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Adam.

"You like them," he said softly, his tone more serious now.

Adam paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. He looked at Lucifer, who was gazing at him with an intensity that made his chest tighten. "They’re… good," he admitted.

Lucifer’s smile softened, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "I’m glad," he said quietly.

For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Adam shifted uncomfortably, his golden wings twitching as he focused on his plate.

"Next time, I’ll make something even better. Maybe I’ll teach you how to cook!" Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, light and teasing again

Adam groaned, shaking his head. "There isn’t going to be a next time."

Lucifer just laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "We’ll see, Addie. We’ll see."

Later, Adam stood in the grand chamber of Heaven’s council, his golden wings folded tightly against his back as he faced Sera, whose cold, steely gaze seemed to pierce through him. The light of Heaven filtered in through the crystalline windows, casting shimmering reflections across the marble floors, but the warmth of it was lost on Adam. Sera’s displeasure was tangible, and the weight of it pressed heavily on his shoulders.

“It has been three years, Adam,” Sera said, her voice sharp and unyielding. She stood behind a towering desk, her silver wings spread wide, a sign of both her authority and her frustration. “Three years, and we have seen no progress on this matter.”

Adam shifted uncomfortably; his hands clasped in front of him as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Sera,” he began, his tone measured but tinged with weariness, “Lucifer is being… unreasonable. Every meeting is—”

Sera cut him off with a raised hand, her icy glare silencing him instantly. “Do not make excuses, Adam. It is your duty to secure his agreement. You were chosen for this task because of your… connection to him.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. “That connection doesn’t exist anymore,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then rebuild it,” Sera snapped, her tone cutting through the air like a blade. She stepped around the desk, her robes billowing as she moved closer to him. “You are an angel of Heaven, Adam. You were created for a purpose, and you will fulfil it. That traitor’s antics are no excuse for your failure. He may be the King of Hell, but he is not above persuasion. You simply aren’t trying hard enough.”

Adam’s wings twitched, and he glanced away, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low but firm. “He’s not just being difficult—he’s acting… strange. These meetings aren’t about the contract to him. He doesn’t take it seriously. He cooks meals, he laughs and talks with me, he—”

“Flirts?” Sera’s eyebrow arched, her tone laced with disbelief and disapproval.

Adam felt his face heat slightly, and he cleared his throat. “That’s not the point. The point is, he’s using these meetings to… distract me. To toy with me. He’s not acting like a king or a ruler—he’s acting…”

“Like the Angel you once knew?” Sera interjected, her voice quieter now but no less pointed.

Adam froze, his golden eyes snapping to hers.

Sera’s gaze softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “Whatever game that traitor is playing, it is your responsibility to rise above it. He is trying to delay, to manipulate you. You cannot allow yourself to be swayed by his charm or his tricks.”

“I’m not,” Adam said quickly, though the words felt hollow even to him.

Sera sighed deeply, turning away from him and gazing out the window at the endless expanse of Heaven. “This contract is not just a document, Adam. It is a pact that will shape the balance between Heaven and Hell for eternity. Every moment you delay, more souls are lost. Do you understand the gravity of this task?”

Adam lowered his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words.

“I understand,” he murmured.

“Then act like it,” Sera said sharply, turning back to him. “You cannot let your history with the traitor cloud your judgment. If he won’t cooperate, find a way to make him. Do whatever it takes to secure his signature, or I will find someone who can.”

The threat hung heavily in the air, and Adam’s heart sank. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to explain that Lucifer wasn’t just being stubborn—he was being Lucifer, the infuriating, unpredictable being who had once been his friend. But Sera wouldn’t care about that. All she cared about was the contract.

“Yes, Sera,” Adam said finally, his voice flat.

Sera studied him for a long moment before nodding curtly. “You are dismissed.”

Adam bowed slightly, turning on his heel and leaving the chamber. As he walked down the golden corridors, his mind churned with frustration and exhaustion. He had tried everything to get Lucifer to take the contract seriously, but the King of Hell was impossible to pin down. And now, with Sera breathing down his neck, the pressure was unbearable.

When he finally reached the quiet solitude of his own chamber, Adam sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Lucifer was breaking him in ways he hadn’t thought possible, and now Sera’s expectations were threatening to crush what little resolve he had left.

For the first time in centuries, Adam felt truly lost.

The silence pressing in on him as Sera’s words replayed in his mind. His wings drooped, and his golden eyes stared blankly at the polished table in front of him. The phrase “He is flirting with you” hit him like a thunderclap, louder with each repetition in his head.

Lucifer. Flirting.

“What?” Adam said aloud, his voice echoing faintly in the room.

He frowned, sitting up straighter as if the realization itself had physically jolted him. His mind began rifling through the past few years of meetings, replaying Lucifer’s behaviour, his words, the touches, the ridiculous closeness…

Adam’s heart sank.

“No…” he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss the thought. “He wasn’t… he couldn’t have been…”

But the memories refused to be ignored.

Lucifer leaning across the table, his sharp grin teasing and playful. “Addie~ You’re so serious all the time! Relax a little—this is our meeting, isn’t it?”

Lucifer tracing his claws over Adam’s arm, the sly purr in his voice as he murmured, “Only interested in one of a kind…”

Lucifer cooking extravagant meals, beaming as Adam reluctantly tried them, his eyes sparkling like he’d won some kind of game.

Lucifer crawling onto his lap during that drunken meeting, clinging to him with a pout and whispering, “Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Adam’s wings twitched, feathers ruffling uncomfortably as the memories piled up. Each one felt like another punch to the gut. He had been so focused on getting the contract signed, so focused on enduring Lucifer’s antics without letting them get to him, that he had completely overlooked… that.

Lucifer had been flirting.

Adam felt heat rise to his cheeks, his jaw clenching as a mix of emotions churned inside him. Confusion, disbelief, and a faint undercurrent of horror all warred for dominance. He buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly.

“Why?” he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms. “Why is he doing this? What kind of game is this?”

He sat back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of it all. Lucifer was the King of Hell, the former Morning Star, the fallen archangel. And yet… he had spent the last three years acting like—like—Adam groaned again, this time louder.

“He’s messing with me,” Adam concluded, his voice firm despite the uncertainty swirling in his chest. “That’s what this is. He’s trying to distract me, trying to throw me off so I can’t finish the contract. Typical Lucifer. It has to be that.”

But even as he said it, the memory of Lucifer’s soft smiles, his gentle touches, and the way he had looked at Adam—like Adam was the only thing in the room that mattered—gnawed at the edges of his reasoning.

“No,” Adam said firmly, standing up and pacing the room. His wings fluttered slightly as his frustration grew. “It’s manipulation. That’s all it is. He doesn’t mean any of it. He’s just trying to get under my skin.”

The idea of Lucifer genuinely… liking him in that way felt impossible. It was absurd. It was—

Adam stopped pacing, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt completely overwhelmed. Why now? Why after everything? Why would Lucifer even—

“Ugh,” Adam groaned, flopping back into the chair with his head tilted toward the ceiling. “This is ridiculous.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to focus. Sera was right about one thing—he had a duty to fulfil. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by Lucifer’s games, no matter how confusing or disarming they were.

And yet, as much as Adam tried to push the thought away, the lingering question gnawed at the back of his mind.

What if Lucifer wasn’t playing a game?

~#~

Adam stormed into the meeting room, his golden wings spread wide, their shimmering feathers casting an almost blinding glow across the dark marble floors of the hall. His eyes were sharp, jaw tight, and his steps echoed with determination. Lucifer, of course, was already lounging at the table, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile as he rested his chin on his hand.

“Addie! You’re so tense again,” Lucifer greeted, his voice lilting and sweet like honey. The tiny crown perched on his head caught the candlelight as he waved toward the spread he’d prepared—a small table with tea, pastries, and some fresh-cut flowers.

Adam didn’t falter. “Enough games, your Majesty. Sign the contract.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint that Adam had come to both dread and anticipate.

“You’ve come to see me after all these weeks, and this is how you greet me? No hello? No ‘how are you, Lucifer?’” He sat up, folding his hands under his chin as his tail curled lazily around the chair’s leg.

“I don’t have time for this,” Adam snapped, pulling out the rolled parchment and slamming it onto the table. His frustration poured out in the furrow of his brow and the tension in his voice. “Three years. Three years of these meetings, and you still haven’t signed it.”

Lucifer tilted his head, a faux pout playing on his lips.

“Three years, indeed,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost wistful. “Imagine how much time we’ve spent together, Addie. Doesn’t it make you wonder?”

“Stop calling me that,” Adam growled.

Lucifer ignored him, leaning forward with a playful grin. “It’s sweet, don’t you think? All this time you could have sent anyone else, but you didn’t. You kept coming back to me. Why is that, hmm?”

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the way Lucifer’s voice dipped into something almost intimate. His sharp response caught in his throat, and he quickly shook his head, scowling as he tried to refocus.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Adam barked, glaring down at Lucifer. “Sign the contract. Now.”

But Lucifer only chuckled, low and warm.

“Distract you?” he echoed, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “Darling, if I’m distracting you, that’s entirely your problem, isn’t it?”

Adam opened his mouth to retort, but his mind snagged on that word—darling. His wings bristled slightly, and for the first time, his voice faltered.

“Y-you—don’t call me that,” he managed, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

Lucifer froze for a second before breaking into a delighted laugh, the sound rich and melodic as he clapped his hands together.

“Oh, Addie,” he purred, practically glowing with glee. “Was that… did you just stutter?”

His crimson eyes gleamed, and his tail flicked behind him with excitement. “You did! You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“I—what?!” Adam’s face flushed, and he instinctively stepped back, his wings twitching as he tried to compose himself. “I am not—this is absurd—sign the damn contract!”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, beaming at Adam like he’d just won a prize.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” he mused, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I’ve been waiting years to see you crack just a little. And now? Oh, Addie, I’ve barely even started.”

Adam clenched his jaw, glaring at Lucifer with a heat that should have been enough to make him stop, but the King of Hell was unbothered, basking in Adam’s attention like it was the sun.

Lucifer reached out, gently tugging at the edge of Adam’s golden sleeve with his clawed fingers.

“You really are magnificent when you’re angry,” he murmured, his tone dipping lower, warmer, enough to make Adam’s chest tighten. “Do you know that? The glow of your wings, the fire in your eyes—it’s breathtaking.”

Adam swatted Lucifer’s hand away, stepping back as he struggled to steady his breathing. “That’s enough!” he barked, though his voice cracked slightly at the end.

Lucifer grinned wider, leaning forward again, his head propped on his hands.

“Tell me, Addie,” he began, his tone dripping with playful curiosity, “When was the last time someone complimented you like that? Or touched you? Or…”

He trailed off, his grin turning sly as he let the words hang between them.

Adam’s face burned, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. His mouth opened, but no words came out—just an unintelligible sound of frustration as his wings flared out behind him.

Lucifer’s laughter filled the room again, but this time it was softer, more indulgent. He rested his chin on his palm, looking at Adam with a gaze that was almost fond.

“You’re precious, Addie,” he said softly, his smile turning gentle.

Adam exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back to Lucifer, needing a moment to breathe. His heart was racing, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

“Sign. The. Contract,” Adam said through gritted teeth, his back still to Lucifer.

Lucifer didn’t respond right away, and when Adam glanced over his shoulder, he found the King of Hell watching him intently, his expression unreadable for once.

“Maybe,” Lucifer said finally, his voice quiet but firm, “But only if you promise me one thing, Addie.”

Adam frowned, narrowing his eyes. “What now?”

Lucifer smiled, a softer, more vulnerable one than Adam had seen in a long time. “Promise me you’ll stop pretending you hate being here.”

Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat as the words sank in. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the silence settling heavily between them.

Then, as always, Lucifer broke it with a playful grin and a wink.

“After all,” he added lightly, “You wouldn’t keep coming back if you really hated me, would you?”

Adam’s face burned again, and he turned away, muttering under his breath as he tried desperately to refocus on the contract. But Lucifer’s words lingered, far longer than Adam wanted them to.

“I keep coming back because I have to!” Adam snapped, his voice sharp and laced with frustration.

Lucifer, lounging lazily in his chair, only grinned, his devilish tail swaying behind him like a satisfied cat. The glow of the candlelight danced in his ruby and gold-flecked eyes as he leaned forward slightly, his chin resting in his palm.

“Come now, Addie,” he purred, his voice dripping with teasing sweetness, “we both know that if you really didn’t want to come here, you wouldn’t.”

Adam’s golden eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “I don’t have a choice. Sera says—”

Lucifer interrupted him with a soft laugh, the sound smooth and amused. “Oh, please.”

He waved a hand dismissively, his long claws catching the light. “You and I both know that if you really put your foot down, even dear Sera couldn’t force you into this room. Admit it.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, his posture infuriatingly relaxed. “You like coming here. You like spending time with little old me.”

Adam stiffened, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. He didn’t respond, refusing to dignify Lucifer’s claim with a rebuttal.

Lucifer took full advantage of the silence, his grin softening into something almost tender.

“And, if I’m being honest…” He stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he closed the distance between them.

“I keep coming back too, Addie.” His voice dropped into a low, velvety murmur. “Because I like spending time with you.”

Lucifer’s hand brushed lightly against Adam’s arm, his claws grazing just enough to send a shiver up the angel’s spine. He slid his palm upward, his fingers tracing a deliberate path before settling gently against Adam’s cheek.

“It reminds me of Eden,” he whispered, his voice warm and nostalgic. “When it was just you and me, under the sun, without the weight of Heaven and Hell between us.”

Adam stared at him, frozen in place, his heart pounding.

“I—I don’t remember that,” he managed weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer let out a soft snort, his smile turning mischievous.

“Now, now,” he said, his voice a playful hum. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not—” Adam started to protest, his tone sharper this time, but before he could finish, Lucifer silenced him in a way that stole his breath.

Lucifer leaned in, his lips brushing softly against Adam’s. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but quickly grew firmer, more sure of itself. Lucifer’s lips moved with practiced ease, coaxing a response, though Adam remained stiff, his mind spinning. The warmth of the kiss, the weight of it, felt impossibly familiar, like a memory long buried yet suddenly unearthed.

For a fleeting moment, it was perfect.

But then, just as Lucifer began to deepen the kiss, tilting his head and brushing his claws softly against Adam’s jawline, Adam snapped back to reality. With a sharp shove, he pushed Lucifer away, his movements quick and forceful.

Lucifer stumbled, letting out a startled yelp as he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. His wings flared slightly behind him, his golden and ruby eyes wide with shock as he looked up at Adam. “Adam—” he began, his voice soft, almost pleading.

But Adam was already turning away, his golden wings twitching with barely contained energy as he bolted for the door.

Lucifer remained frozen in place, staring after him as the sound of Adam’s footsteps faded into the distance. The door swung shut with a heavy thud, and the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, the tension draining from his body as he lowered himself slowly back into his chair. His fingers drifted to his lips, tracing over the place where Adam’s had been moments before. The warmth lingered, but it wasn’t enough to mask the sting of rejection.

His heart, the thing he thought he’d buried deep and locked away, thudded anxiously in his chest. His claws curled into his palm as he stared at the door, half-expecting Adam to come back, to burst in with an apology, to say something—anything.

But the door didn’t open.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he wrestled with the ache in his chest. After a moment, he stood, his movements slower, less confident than usual. A swirl of dark energy enveloped him, and he disappeared from the room, leaving nothing behind but the faint scent of brimstone.

When he reappeared in his chambers in Hell, the oppressive silence of the space wrapped around him like a cloak. The usual comfort of his lair—the flickering flames, the plush velvet, the distant echo of infernal laughter—felt hollow. Lucifer made his way to his massive, intricately carved bed and collapsed face-first onto the mattress.

Lucifer lay sprawled across his luxurious bed, his face buried in the cool silk of his pillows. The room around him was grand, as befitting the King of Hell—a chamber of dark velvet, glowing embers, and twisted beauty—but it felt emptier than ever. His claws dug into the fabric beneath him as his chest heaved with frustration and longing. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind: the soft press of Adam’s lips against his, the way the golden-winged angel froze beneath him, and then—the shove.

The harsh, rejecting shove.

His lips still tingled; his cheeks still flushed from the contact. Lucifer groaned, flipping onto his back as his tail thrashed against the edge of the bed. He stared up at the intricately carved ceiling, the glow of the fiery sconces casting shadows that twisted and danced, mirroring the chaos in his chest.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. His other hand—traitorous thing—lingered near his lips, brushing them softly as if trying to relive that fleeting, perfect moment.

It hurt. It really hurt.

Lucifer wasn’t accustomed to rejection. He was the King of Hell, the first of the fallen, the Morning Star. He could have anyone he wanted with a snap of his fingers. And yet, here he was, sprawled out and sulking because one stubborn, infuriatingly beautiful angel had pushed him away.

But it wasn’t just anyone, was it?

It was Adam.

Lucifer let out another groan, throwing an arm over his face as if to shield himself from his own thoughts. His mind raced, thoughts colliding and tangling into a mess of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He’d thought—no, hoped—that they’d been making progress. The past year, things had felt… different. Warmer. Adam didn’t hate him anymore, or so he’d thought. They’d shared conversations, tea, even quiet moments where Lucifer could pretend, just for a little while, that things were as they once were.

He had been so sure that Adam was softening, that the walls Adam had built between them were finally starting to crumble. And then today… that kiss.

Lucifer’s heart clenched at the memory. It had been everything he’d imagined and more. Adam’s lips were warm, soft, and for one blissful moment, it felt as if the universe had aligned. But then the push came, and it was like being cast down from Heaven all over again.

His clawed hand clenched into a fist against his chest, his tail curling tightly around his leg as he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t blame Adam. He’d hurt him in the past—so deeply that it was a wonder Adam even tolerated his presence now. The betrayal in Eden, the way he’d let Lilith manipulate him, the way he’d turned away from Adam when Adam needed him most…

He deserved the rejection.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Lucifer sat up abruptly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as he stared across the room. The purple curtains swayed gently, and for a moment, he thought he could see Adam standing there, his golden wings catching the light just so. His heart ached, and he pressed a hand to his chest as if he could physically calm its frantic beating.

“This isn’t a game,” he whispered to himself, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

It wasn’t. Not this time. Lucifer had played plenty of games in the past, but this? This was different. He didn’t just want Adam to fall for him, to become another conquest, another trophy. He wanted… everything.

He wanted Adam’s love, his trust, his companionship. He wanted to see those radiant golden wings spread out beneath him, trembling with pleasure as Lucifer showed him the depths of his devotion. He wanted to hear Adam laugh—really laugh—without the weight of Heaven’s expectations on his shoulders. He wanted Adam to stay by his side, to rule with him, to build something new together.

He wanted Adam to be his.

Lucifer’s cheeks burned at the thought, his hand flying to his mouth as he whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He hadn’t felt like this with Lilith. Or Eve. Or anyone. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and it terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Lucifer’s tail flicked against the bed again as a determined smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He’d messed up in the past—royally, catastrophically—but he was determined to fix it. Adam might not realize it yet, but they were meant to be together. Lucifer could feel it in every fibre of his being.

“It’s not over,” he said aloud, his voice firm as he pushed himself off the bed. His reflection in the dark mirror across the room stared back at him, and he straightened his crown, his crimson eyes burning with resolve.

Adam might not have been ready for him yet, but Lucifer was nothing if not patient. He’d waited centuries to fix what he’d broken; what was a little longer?

Sooner or later, Adam would come to see things his way. He would come to Hell, where he belonged. By the time the year was up, Adam would be his—mind, body, and soul. Lucifer grinned, his tail swishing with anticipation.

And if Lucifer had his way? Adam would be carrying his child, golden wings shimmering as they ruled together.

“Soon,” Lucifer whispered, his grin widening as he disappeared into the shadows of his chamber, his mind already spinning with plans for their next meeting.

“Oh Addie. Our wedding will be memorable~”

With a purring moan, Lucifer slipped a hand down his front. He slid his hand between his legs, his eyes sliding half-lidded. His long snake-like tongue slithered out from his lips as his mind immediately filled up with Adam.

Oh. He bet Adam would make the cutest sounds~

Lucifer lay back on the plush velvet sheets, fully spent and not quite satisfied, his golden hair was a mess. He gazed up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with memories. His golden and ruby eyes, normally so steady and unshakable, flickered with confusion and regret as they focused on the ceiling above him. His clawed fingers dug into the fabric beneath him, grounding him, though it did nothing to quell the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.

He had been so sure of himself, once. The King of Hell, the master of his domain. He had everything he could ever want—power, wealth, respect—yet he had never felt emptier. And it had taken him far too long to realize why.

Adam.

The thought of him, always lingering just out of reach, was what fuelled his every action now. His feelings for Adam had been growing for years, unnoticed at first, perhaps even unrecognized by himself. It had all started with the first time he was drunk, that one fateful meeting when his guard was down, and Adam had been there. He’d been so gentle, so calm, so… unwilling to yield to Lucifer’s charm. It had irritated him at first, that resistance, but as the weeks passed, Lucifer found it… endearing.

And then it grew into something more.

He hadn’t meant to feel this way. At first, it was just loneliness. Lilith had left him, disappeared without a word, and he had no idea where she had gone. She had been everything to him, once. But then, she’d betrayed him, just as he had betrayed her. When she’d left, he’d been swallowed by the void she’d left behind, unsure how to fill it. And when he saw Adam—saw his golden wings and unshakable resolve—he realized he could use that. He could use Adam to fill that void.

But that wasn’t what it had become, was it?

Lucifer rolled onto his side, staring out at the darkened room, his thoughts racing. His feelings for Adam went beyond loneliness now. They were something rawer, deeper, more real. Something that terrified him. At first, it had just been a distraction, a passing fancy. But the more time he spent with Adam, the more he realized how much he needed him.

Needed him. Not just for companionship, but for something more. For Adam’s forgiveness, for his love. For something Lucifer had long since forgotten: peace.

The King of Hell chuckled bitterly to himself. He had been a fool. A scumbag. He had let Lilith manipulate him, cloud his mind, make him think the only thing that mattered was control and power. He had seduced Lilith, used Eve—he had ruined everything. The shame burned inside him, a constant reminder of how wrong he had been. He hated himself for it. He hated himself for letting his pride and desire control him. He hated himself for being a blind fool who couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

Adam had always been right there, in front of him, and Lucifer had never appreciated him the way he should have. He had taken him for granted. He had acted rashly. He had been disgusting.

Trash.

No. Worse than trash. He had been a monster, and monsters didn’t deserve love. He didn’t deserve Adam’s forgiveness. Hell, he didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as him. But Lucifer couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about Adam.

The way Adam’s wings fluttered when he was nervous. The way his eyes softened when they spoke about things they both cared about. The way Adam would stare at him, like he didn’t understand why Lucifer couldn’t just leave him alone.

But Lucifer couldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t.

At first, Lucifer had convinced himself it was all just a result of his loneliness, that Adam was nothing more than a temporary distraction. But then the dreams had started. He would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, his heart racing, because Adam had been there. In his dreams, Adam had been everything he wanted. He had kissed him, had held him, had loved him. And when Lucifer had woken, his body aching, he realized he didn’t want it to end.

When Lilith returned, Lucifer had been so thrown off by his own emotions that he couldn’t even think straight. She had tried to speak to him, tried to rekindle their relationship, but all he could think about was Adam. He hadn’t even heard what Lilith had said—only that she was standing there, in front of him, demanding his attention. But all he could see was Adam. He couldn’t think of anything but the golden-winged angel who had captured his heart without even realizing it.

And when Lilith had left again, Lucifer had made his choice. He told her, without hesitation, to fuck off. He had no more use for her, no more desire for her. He had finally seen it for what it was. Lilith had never been what he truly wanted.

What he truly wanted, Lucifer realized with a bitter smile, was Adam.

The realization had hit him like a freight train. He had wanted Adam for years—he had just been too blind to see it. Too caught up in his own pride and his desire for control. Adam had always been the one, the one he had pushed away, the one he had hurt.

But that wasn’t going to happen anymore.

Lucifer sat up, running his claws through his hair as his chest tightened. He wanted Adam. And not just for a night. He wanted him forever. He wanted to make him his partner, his lover, his equal. He wanted Adam to carry his children. He wanted Adam to be by his side, forever.

But Adam didn’t remember him, did he? Adam didn’t even call him by his name. After all this time, after everything they had been through, Adam still didn’t see him the way he saw Adam. He still thought of him as just the King of Hell.

That hurt more than anything.

But Lucifer wasn’t going to give up. He couldn’t. He had made mistakes, yes. But he would make them right. Adam would come around. Lucifer would make sure of it. Because no matter what, Adam belonged to him.

And Lucifer was going to have him, even if it took everything.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #guitarduck #au #fanficiton #a03 #shut down

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