#she probably carries way more bones than just that skull

[slothquisitor]

Made a little character sheet for my Rook, Camina. Had a little fun thinking about what she’d have taken with her from the Necropolis.

[rainforestakiie]

Hey! Hope I’m not bothering you I just got this idea. Hear me out, when Adam wakes up as a sinner after dying and not only that but as a woman! Lucifer finds him/her and does the unthinkable. He makes Adam his mistress. Unironically. I’d think it be cool if Lilith was still there, not because she wants to but her soul is bound to hell as is Lucifer’s. I just love drama that’s all. It be like Anne Boleyn except we’re cheering on for our mistress. Mpreg is also an option. Again I just think it could add spice.

hello, thank you so much for the kind message! i have done my best to write this request; it might be a little different from what you wanted. it took on a life of its own, haha.

i really liked the thought of adam being forcefully turned into a woman and becoming a sinner. i wanted to try something different and new. i hope it's good.

i liked lilith being there, and originally lilith was going to be in a relationship with eve, but my lucifer x adam x lilith took over a little. lilith loves adam too in this! this has a bit of angst in it, so warnings for that. anyway, i hope you like it!

When Adam stirred, the world tilted, cruel and unforgiving, painted in streaks of red, pink, purple, and black—a grotesque palette smeared across his vision. His head throbbed with a searing, relentless ache, as if the universe had taken all its hatred and focused it on the fragile walls of his skull. A low, guttural groan slipped from his lips, raw and unsteady, as his hand weakly brushed the side of his head. Dampness. Warm. Sticky. Blood? Probably. He didn’t care enough to check.

He pushed himself up, every movement slow, heavy, excruciating. Pain blossomed in waves through his body—an ache so deep it felt like his very bones were fractured, like he’d been hollowed out and filled with shards of glass. It wasn’t the kind of ache you could laugh off. No, this was the kind that lingered, etched itself into every breath, every twitch of muscle. Adam sighed, eyes squeezed shut, the motion sending a fresh ripple of agony through his temples. The spinning didn’t stop.

He stayed like that, a trembling statue of resignation, until the nausea subsided just enough for him to crack open his eyes. He blinked once. Twice. Slowly, the shapes around him solidified. Where...where was he? The landscape looked alien, hostile, and wrong. A haze hung in the air, thick and stifling, carrying with it the scent of ash and despair.

He tried to piece it together, tried to remember. His chest tightened. Heaven? Wasn’t he supposed to be in heaven? The thought came unbidden, soft and fragile, like a thread he was afraid to pull. His lips parted, a quiet gasp escaping as fragments of memory clawed their way to the surface.

Oh.

Adam’s face twisted, his brows furrowing as reality set in. Not heaven. This wasn’t heaven. He tore his gaze from the scorched earth beneath him, scanning his surroundings with growing dread. No white light, no ethereal glow, no comfort. Just fire and shadow and a choking, unbearable heat that clung to his skin like a punishment.

Hell.

He was in hell.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him winded and trembling. His body burned—inside and out—with an unnatural, throbbing pain that made him want to claw his own skin off. He dragged himself upright, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him, threatening to buckle with every shaky step. The world tilted again, cruel and mocking, and he barely managed to catch himself against the rough surface of a crumbling wall. The concrete was warm, almost scalding, and he pressed his forehead against it, letting the pain ground him.

His breaths came shallow, each one more ragged than the last. He let out a broken laugh—short and humourless—because what else was there to do? He was so tired. Tired of the pain. Tired of the memories. Tired of everything. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to close his eyes and pretend this wasn’t happening. Pretend he hadn’t fallen. Pretend that it wasn’t his fault.

But pretending wouldn’t change anything.

He tilted his head back, his gaze lifting to the sky—or what passed for one. The light was dim and distorted, like the sun had been dragged down here just to mock him. Somewhere up there, beyond that burning, angry sky, heaven waited. And for a fleeting moment, it felt close enough to touch.

He had been there, hadn’t he? Hours ago? Days? He didn’t know how long had passed since...since he’d done it. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard against the lump forming there. What had it felt like? Falling? He couldn’t even remember anymore. Only the aftermath remained—the aching, the emptiness, the weight of knowing he had been there once, so close to peace, and now he was here.

Hell.

Adam closed his eyes again, letting his head rest against the unforgiving brick. This was where he belonged now. This was what he had chosen. Or maybe...this was what had chosen him.

The sinners closed in, their leering faces filling Adam’s blurry vision. Their jeers turned to sneers, their laughter growing crueller, sharper. Fingers brushed against his arm, his shoulder, his side—each touch slimy and unwelcome. His body stiffened as a cold chill crawled up his spine, his feet frozen in place, unable to move.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” one of them drawled, their grin twisting into something feral. “We’ll take real good care of you.”

Adam’s lips parted, but no words came out. His body trembled, his knees threatening to buckle under him. The air was thick with heat and malice, suffocating him, and for a moment, he thought he might crumble entirely.

Then it happened.

A blinding eruption of purple and black light burst forth, consuming the space around them in a violent wave. The ground beneath Adam’s feet quaked, cracks spidering out in every direction as the magic surged. The sinners shrieked and staggered back, shielding their faces from the raw, overwhelming power.

Adam fell to his knees, the force of the wave knocking him off balance. His head struck the side of the building with a dull thud, and a fresh wave of pain radiated through his skull. He winced, his vision swimming, but through the haze, he caught sight of a figure standing before him, framed by the swirling darkness.

His gaze flickered upward, peering through long, damp eyelashes, and his breath hitched.

Lilith.

She stood tall, regal and commanding, her form cloaked in shadows that pulsed with an otherworldly energy. Her violet eyes burned like twin flames, wide with disbelief as they locked onto his. Her lips parted, but for a moment, no sound came.

“A-Adam?” she breathed, her voice a whisper, tinged with shock.

She took a hesitant step closer, her gaze sweeping over him as if she needed to confirm what she was seeing.

Adam tried to push himself up, his arms trembling beneath him, but his legs refused to cooperate. He stumbled, his balance faltering, and before he could hit the ground again, Lilith’s arms wrapped around him, catching him.

His body slumped against hers, and for a moment, he was too disoriented to process what was happening. She was warm—surprisingly warm—and her grip was firm but hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure what to do with him.

Lilith glanced down at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and something else—something softer, though it was buried beneath layers of discomfort. She looked back at the sinners, who were frozen in place, their faces twisted with confusion and fear. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a sneer.

Before they could react, she snapped her fingers.

The air shifted violently as waves of purple and black magic surged outward, swirling around them like a protective barrier. The sinners stumbled back, their confusion morphing into panic as the magic grew stronger, crackling with power. They didn’t dare move any closer.

Adam’s head lolled against Lilith’s shoulder, the pounding in his skull reaching a fever pitch. The throbbing blurred his thoughts, his senses dulling under the weight of exhaustion and pain. He tried to lift his head, tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

Lilith looked down at him, her brow furrowed. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but she hesitated. For a moment, she seemed unsure—whether to drop him to the ground and leave him there or…do something else.

Adam’s vision darkened further, the edges fading into black. The last thing he saw was Lilith’s conflicted expression, the swirl of magic around them casting sharp shadows across her face. And then, finally, the darkness claimed him.

~#~

he first thing Adam noticed as he drifted back to consciousness was the voices—familiar, low, and tense, like a storm brewing just outside the room.

"Eve?" came a hushed, uncertain whisper.

"No," Lilith’s voice snapped back, soft but sharp, tinged with exasperation. "This is Adam."

There was a pause, thick and expectant, before the other voice—Lucifer’s—spoke again. "Are you sure?"

Lilith made a noise from the back of her throat, somewhere between a sigh and a growl. "Yes, Lucifer. I’m sure."

Another silence fell, stretching so long it began to grate on Adam’s nerves, though he wasn’t sure why.

"It’s just…" Lucifer began hesitantly, his tone uncertain, "He’s…different."

Adam groaned softly, the sound escaping his lips before he could stop it. His body ached as though every nerve had been lit on fire and then drowned in ice water. His eyes fluttered open, but the world was a blur of shifting shadows and dim light. He blinked, looking but not really seeing, his head pounding as he tried to move.

The whispering stopped abruptly.

"Be careful," Lilith said, her voice gentler now as she stepped closer to him. Her presence felt oddly steadying, like a rock in a chaotic sea. "We’ve had to heal your bones. Almost every one of them was fractured."

Adam didn’t respond, his throat burning with the rawness of disuse—or maybe something else entirely. He swallowed thickly, his stomach twisting. For a moment, he wondered if he was about to be sick.

"Are you Adam?" Lucifer’s voice piped up, unhelpful and blunt from somewhere behind Lilith.

Lilith shot him a dry look over her shoulder.

"Lucifer," she warned.

"What?" Lucifer shrugged, unapologetic. "You can never be too sure."

Adam squinted, turning his head slowly toward the source of the voice. The movement made his head spin, and he winced. Lucifer came into focus—or at least, what Adam assumed was Lucifer. He looked…different.

"Are you really Lucifer?" Adam croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy, though there was a flicker of something like incredulity in his tone.

Lucifer paused, visibly taken aback. His mouth opened and closed a few times, sputtering incoherently, while Lilith let out a snort of amusement.

"Yes," Lucifer finally managed, his voice rising defensively. "I’m really Lucifer!"

He shot Lilith a look, as though seeking backup.

Lilith’s lips twitched, her golden eyes dancing with humour. She reached out and playfully patted him on the head, smoothing down his dark curls.

"You still look handsome," she said teasingly.

Lucifer blinked at her, his expression shifting from indignation to delight in an instant. He beamed, his entire face lighting up, and the warmth in his eyes was almost blinding.

It was sweet. It was cute. Adam sniffled softly, his gaze dropping to the floor. He hated the way his chest tightened at the sight of their obvious affection for one another. He hated how it reminded him of what he didn’t have—what he’d never had.

When he glanced back up, his eyes caught on Lilith’s horns, the massive, elegant arcs of deep purple that jutted from her golden hair like a crown. He stared without realizing it, his thoughts sluggish and disjointed.

Lilith tilted her head, catching his gaze.

"What?" she asked, arching a brow. "You think they’re ugly or something?"

Adam blinked, startled by the question. He quickly shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment to steady himself.

"No," he murmured, his voice quiet but earnest. "I think they’re pretty."

Lilith’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across her face. She stepped back a half-step, almost as though she didn’t know how to respond.

"So this means you’ve fallen, then?" Adam asked after a moment, his eyes flickering between Lilith and Lucifer. His tone was soft but curious, tinged with something he couldn’t quite name. "I’ve…heard the rumours in Heaven about what happens. When you fall. You grow horns, claws…things like that."

Lilith frowned, her expression unreadable as she pushed her long golden hair out of her face.

"In a way," she said carefully, her voice quiet. "I suppose."

Lucifer crossed his arms, his dark wings shifting slightly behind him, his gaze flickering between Adam and Lilith.

 "It’s more complicated than that," he said, his tone casual but edged with something deeper.

Adam looked at him properly now, taking in the stark contrast to the being he once knew. This wasn’t the pristine, golden-haired archangel who had stood proudly in Heaven, clad in robes of white and blue. This Lucifer was darker, his features sharper, his presence heavier—less light, more shadow. But his eyes still held a glimmer of something familiar, something that made Adam’s chest tighten with an ache he couldn’t explain.

"Everything is…" Adam hesitated, searching for the words. "…different."

Adam’s head throbbed as the weight of their words pressed down on him. It felt like a vice was tightening around his skull, and he clutched the side of his head, his breathing uneven. He wanted to speak, to deny what they were saying, but his voice refused to cooperate.

"Er…" Lucifer cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. His usual suave confidence faltered as he glanced at Lilith, then back at Adam.

"Speaking of, uh…falling, Adam…" His voice was uncharacteristically hesitant. "Why did you fall?"

Adam blinked at him, his vision still swimming. He shook his head weakly, confusion etched into his features.

"I didn’t," he murmured, his voice hoarse and trembling.

Lilith’s brows furrowed, a flicker of concern crossing her face.

"You did, Adam," she said firmly, but not unkindly.

His gaze snapped up to hers, wide and desperate.

"No," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I couldn’t—I mean…"

He trailed off, his breath hitching as his mind scrambled to piece together fragments of memories that felt too sharp, too painful to touch.

Lucifer watched him, his own unease growing as he took in the turmoil flickering across Adam’s face. He lifted his clawed hands, golden magic sparking to life at his fingertips. With a small gesture, he conjured a mirror, the surface shimmering like liquid gold.

"You have," Lucifer said, his voice softer now. "Look."

He held the mirror out, his movements slow, almost cautious.

Adam’s hands trembled as he reached out, his grip on the mirror unsteady. He hesitated for a moment, staring at its glowing edges before finally tilting it toward himself.

The reflection was both familiar and alien. He knew about the changes—he had felt them in his bones, in the way his body moved, lighter, softer. His face was no longer angular but rounder, framed by long, cascading curls of thick brown hair. The length startled him; it reminded him too much of Lilith’s…or Eve’s.

His skin had lost its warmth, neither the sun-kissed tan of his Eden days nor the smooth alabaster he had once envied in the angels. Instead, it was ashen, a muted grey that seemed to swallow the light. His fingers brushed the sore bite mark on his neck, and he grimaced, quickly turning the mirror away.

Lilith caught the motion, her brows knitting together in worry.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice low but insistent.

Adam tilted the mirror slightly, and his gaze caught on the delicate blue horns that curled adorably from the top of his head. They were small, nothing like the imposing spirals of Lilith’s crown, but they were unmistakable. He blinked, shifting slightly on the bed, and noticed how his wings—no longer golden but a deep, ethereal blue—fluttered faintly behind him.

"Hm," he murmured, his voice distant. He stared into the mirror again, at the haunting black and blue of his eyes. "I guess…I died. When I jumped, makes sense…."

Lucifer let out a loud, sharp exclamation. "You jumped?!"

His wings flared slightly as he leaned forward, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "What do you mean, you jumped?"

Adam jerked at the sudden outburst, his heart lurching painfully in his chest. Lilith quickly placed a calming hand on his, her touch grounding.

 "Lucifer," she hissed, shooting him a glare.

Lucifer flushed, his sharp features softening as he muttered, "Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell."

Lilith shifted closer to Adam, her movements slow and deliberate. Their history wasn’t exactly warm; Eden had been a battlefield of misunderstandings and clashing wills. But in this moment, she wasn’t the rebellious queen or the scorned first wife. She was simply…concerned.

"Adam," she said softly, her voice like a thread of silk drawing his gaze back to her. His hollow eyes met hers, and she gave him the barest of nods. "Did something happen? Up in Heaven?"

Lucifer stilled at her words, his red-and-gold eyes narrowing as he studied Adam again. His mind reeled, piecing together the broken puzzle in front of him. His gaze lingered on the small, delicate details—the horns, the softened features, the long hair.

"You were a woman," Lucifer said suddenly, his tone sharp and certain. "Before you jumped, you were already a woman. Dying and being reanimated as a sinner, didn’t turn you into a woman, did it?"

Adam froze, his body going rigid. The words hung in the air like a blade, cutting through the fragile quiet.

Lilith’s violet eyes darted between them, the storm of confusion and bitter realization darkening her expression. It was a war on her face—one she neither wanted nor asked to fight.

“Adam,” Lucifer’s voice was a blade, cutting through the tension, low and biting. “Why did you leap from Heaven?”

Adam’s throat tightened, the burn rising as if the truth itself was acid. He swallowed it down, trying to steady himself, but his composure was slipping, crumbling like ash in his grip. Tilting his head slightly, he hesitated, his mind racing. Trust? What even was that anymore? Heaven had betrayed him, gutted him, hollowed him out until he could no longer recognize the thing they left behind.

“Heaven…” The word came out in a rasp, heavy with bitterness. Adam inhaled sharply, lifting his gaze to meet Lucifer’s piercing eyes. His voice firmed, but the anger simmered just beneath. “It hasn’t been what you remember in a very long time.”

“In fact, it has become the opposite.”

~#~

Adam lay sprawled across the queen-sized bed, his body sinking into the softness of the sheets. Long curls of chestnut hair fanned out over the pillows, framing a face etched with exhaustion. His frame felt foreign now—smaller, more delicate, undeniably feminine. And yet, every nerve in him throbbed with relentless pain. It wasn’t just his body; his mind twisted with confusion. Why in all the realms would Lucifer and Lilith—Lucifer and Lilith—be the ones to help him? Why offer him shelter in their castle, of all places? Their spare room? Nothing about it tracked, and the unanswered questions gnawed at him.

It had been a week since Lilith had found him, broken and alone, and for some reason, took pity on him. She had whisked him away to their home without hesitation. Lucifer, however, remained a ghost. Adam had barely caught a glimpse of him, and he wasn’t eager to delve into what schemes the fallen angel might be concocting. Just thinking about Lucifer made his chest tighten with bitterness and sorrow, emotions he was too drained to untangle.

Lilith, though—Lilith was the surprise. She was the one who came to his room, who sat with him, who spoke to him despite the fact he never answered. When the time came to change his bandages, he’d hesitated, reluctant to bare himself under her gaze. He had expected disgust, judgment, perhaps even scorn. But there was none of that.

Lilith’s hands were steady, careful as she re-dressed his wounds. Her touch was soft, her words kind, her presence almost… calming. It unsettled him, the gentleness of it all. He hadn’t known what to say, so he’d stayed silent, letting her care for him while his thoughts spiralled in the quiet.

Think of the Queen of Hell, and she will answer.

The soft click of the chamber door announced Lilith’s arrival. She swept inside with an air of quiet command, a purple tray balanced in her hands. On it sat a bowl of steaming water, its heat curling faint wisps into the cold air. Adam forced himself upright, every movement igniting fresh aches, as she approached the bedside table and set the tray down. His eyes flicked to its contents—bandages, ointment, the tools of her careful ministrations—and then back to her.

“I’m worried,” Lilith admitted, breaking the silence.

Adam paused, fingers hesitating as he gripped the hem of the soft purple nightdress she had given him. With a deep breath, he pulled it off, baring his bruised and battered back to the Queen of Hell. Her lavender eyes scanned the canvas of his suffering, her gaze sharp and unwavering as it trailed down his spine. Her lips pressed into a tight, displeased line, betraying the thoughts she wouldn’t voice.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, confusion pulling at his brow. Worried? About him? It didn’t make sense. They were never close in Eden. Lilith had always been a force of her own, too bold, too defiant for Heaven’s chains. She had challenged everything Adam clung to, her sharp opinions cutting through his docile obedience. That defiance had captured Lucifer’s heart—something Adam had secretly admired, even envied. Lilith had escaped unscathed, but Adam… no. Saying no wasn’t an option for him. When he tried, it only brought punishment. Pain.

Her hand rose, sudden but gentle, her fingers brushing his raw skin. Adam flinched at the unexpected contact, the warmth of her touch startling him. Lilith’s head tilted, golden waves spilling over her shoulder like liquid sunlight as her expression softened.

“I’m worried, Adam,” she repeated, her voice low, almost tender. “You’re not healing like you should. Not nearly as fast.” Her fingers lingered lightly on his shoulder, careful, but her words were laced with something heavy. “You’ve become a sinner now. Hell’s power should have bonded with you. Wounds like these—injuries from before you jumped—they should have healed by now. Fully regenerated.”

Her words hung in the air, their weight pressing into Adam’s chest like stones. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

When Adam stayed silent, Lilith let out a soft sigh, setting to work. Her hands moved with practiced care, dabbing at his bruises and cuts, her touch as light as the brush of a breeze. Her gaze sharpened, narrowing on the cruel patterns etched into his skin—the bite marks, the fingerprints left in bruised shades of purple and black. Her lips pressed thin, displeasure radiating from her as her fingers lingered on one particularly deep mark.

“You were never this quiet in Eden,” she said, her voice low, but tinged with something coaxing. “In fact, I remember you couldn’t stop talking—always singing, always laughing. Never…this.”

Adam clenched his jaw, his lips locking tight as his golden eyes remained fixed on the far wall. His gaze flickered down briefly to the absurd little rubber duck perched at the end of the bed, a strange anomaly that had appeared out of nowhere the night before. He’d asked Lilith about it, pointing silently, but she had only smiled—an amused, enigmatic curve of her lips—and offered no explanation.

“Adam,” Lilith began again, her voice softening but with a dangerous edge creeping into it, “Did… they hurt you for speaking so much?”

Her words hung in the air, an accusation and a plea all at once. Without thinking, Adam shrugged, a small, almost dismissive movement, but one that made her hands freeze in surprise.

“It’s not different,” he murmured, his voice a raw, cracked whisper, as though the act of speaking after so long had physically hurt him. The sound startled even himself.

Lilith’s hands stilled, her lavender eyes searching his face as he continued, his words halting but heavy.

“I mean… in Eden, you didn’t like me making much sound anyway. Heaven just… found a way to reinforce what they wanted.”

The bitterness in his tone cut through the air like a blade, but Adam winced at the roughness of his own voice, as though the words themselves were too sharp to say. Lilith’s expression shifted, the anger in her narrowing eyes no longer directed at him but something far, far worse.

"Is this… how Heaven kept you in order?" Lilith’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp and oddly restrained. There was a dangerous edge to it, something simmering beneath the surface that Adam either didn’t notice—or chose to ignore.

"Did they hurt you to keep you in line? Even after you became an angel?"

Adam’s fingers curled into the rich, opulent fabric of the quilts beneath him, twisting the crimson and violet threads until they frayed under the tension. His shoulders tensed, his head dipping slightly as though bracing against the weight of the question.

"I mean…" he began, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. “It was always like that.”

"Always?" Lilith echoed, the word slipping from her lips in a hushed whisper. Her lavender eyes widened, brows rising in genuine surprise, though her tone betrayed a growing fury—one she was clearly trying to keep in check.

Adam’s golden gaze remained distant, unfocused, as though he were staring at something far away—something he wished he could escape.

"I had rules to follow," he said, his voice distant and cold. "And if I didn’t, I got punished. It didn’t matter whether I was alive or not. It didn’t matter if I was human or an angel. It all started in Eden."

His words hung in the air, heavy and raw, spoken with the kind of detached blankness that only came from someone who had lived too long in their own pain. Lilith’s jaw tightened, the gentle touch she had used moments before now a thing of the past as her hands clenched at her sides. This wasn’t just cruelty—it was a pattern, a system, an indoctrination. And it burned her to her core.

Adam’s fingers continued to pull at the fraying threads of the quilt, his golden eyes distant, staring past the room, past Lilith, and into something only he could see. His voice dropped into a soft, almost dreamy cadence, words spilling from his lips unbidden.

“Eden,” he murmured, his tone caught between bitterness and longing. “I used to watch you in Eden, Lilith. You probably never knew that, but…I admired you. Even back then.”

Lilith froze, her lavender eyes widening in surprise. Her fingers, which had been tending to his bruises, stilled completely. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to say anything like this.

“I know we had a lot of disagreements,” Adam continued, his voice gaining a strange, unfiltered momentum. “You didn’t like me. I could tell. You thought I was spineless, maybe even pathetic.”

A faint, humourless laugh escaped him, barely audible. “But I liked you. I really liked you. I…looked up to you. A lot.”

Lilith’s breath hitched, but Adam didn’t notice the way her entire body had gone rigid, her eyes locked on his profile with a mixture of shock and something she couldn’t quite name.

“I always wished I could be like you,” he admitted, his voice breaking faintly, though he didn’t seem to notice. “But I wasn’t allowed to. I wasn’t allowed to be anything but what they wanted me to be.”

“You walked away, Lilith. You got out. And I…” His voice faltered, but he pushed through, his tone heavier now. “I tried once. Just once. And Heaven made sure I’d never try again.”

His hands clenched tighter around the quilt, knuckles turning white. “The welts on my arms and legs didn’t go away for a month after that. They made sure I understood—pain was what waited for anyone who disobeyed.”

Adam let out a shaky breath, his gaze softening as it drifted somewhere further away, a faint hum of wistfulness threading his voice. “I admired you so much, Lilith. I wanted to follow you and Lucifer. I wanted to stand up, to question Heaven’s reins and reach for freedom. But I was scared. I only ever knew pain. And that pain—it always came when I questioned them. So, I stopped questioning…and I never tried to be like you again after that.”

His voice dropped to a near whisper, barely audible, but the fondness in it was undeniable. “I missed you, Lilith. You were my best friend, even if you didn’t think so. And if I’d had the chance… I would’ve followed you. I would’ve followed you and Lucifer to the end of the worlds.”

Lilith’s breath caught audibly, her chest tightening as his words hit her like a tidal wave. Her lavender eyes stung, widening so much they ached. She wasn’t sure what to say—what could she say? She sat in stunned silence, the Queen of Hell rendered speechless by a man she thought she’d known but clearly never understood.

Adam blinked suddenly, the fog of his memories dissipating as reality snapped back into place. His body stiffened, and he let out a wobbly, hollow laugh, glancing over his shoulder at her. His grin was crooked, but not the one she remembered from Eden. It lacked the boyish warmth, the gentle sweetness she once knew.

This grin was smaller, colder, empty of everything that made it human. It was the kind of grin that braced for rejection, that expected nothing but pain in return.

Lilith stared at him, her hands trembling as she clasped them in her lap. For the first time in centuries, she felt utterly unprepared for what to say next.

Lilith’s breath hitched as her gaze fell once more on the bruises, the cuts, and the bite marks—God, the bite marks. Her lips pressed into a tight line, a flicker of anger flashing behind her lavender eyes. She stood suddenly, the air around her shimmering with magic, soft hues of purple and lavender swirling in her hands as she conjured a fresh nightdress.

“Here,” she said quietly, her tone firm but not unkind. She helped Adam slip the new garment over his frail frame, her movements careful and deliberate as though he might break if she wasn’t gentle enough. The old nightdress disappeared with a flick of her hand, and she took a step back, giving him space.

“You should rest now,” she murmured. “I know you haven’t been eating, but you must try. Even just a little.”

Adam nodded, humming softly in acknowledgment, though his movements were slow and hesitant. He sank back into the bed, the pillow cradling his head as his gaze drifted, once again, to the strange rubber duck perched at the end of the mattress. What a peculiar little thing. It didn’t belong here, yet it lingered, much like himself.

The sudden touch of cool fingers threading gently through his hair startled him. The gesture was almost…loving. Adam blinked, his golden eyes darting upward to meet Lilith’s.

“Adam…” Lilith’s voice was softer now, barely above a whisper. “I want you to know… you can stay here as long as you like. Neither I nor Lucifer will force you to leave.”

Adam blinked rapidly, his brow furrowing in confusion as he looked up at her.

“Why?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

Lilith’s face tightened for a moment, her lips pressing together as if holding back something sharp. Adam flinched slightly, mistaking the subtle shift in her expression for annoyance—or worse.

Oh no. He had upset her already.

“You can hit me, if you want,” he blurted, his tone startlingly innocent. “That’s usually what makes the others feel better. After how I was in Eden, you definitely should get to… land some strikes on me.”

Lilith froze, her eyes widening briefly before she closed them, drawing in a deep, measured breath. Her head shook slowly, and when she spoke again, her voice was calm but weighted with something unspoken.

“No,” she said firmly. “That’s not necessary. I’m not displeased with you, Adam. Not at all. You’ve done nothing to deserve that.”

Adam’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion, the words clearly foreign to him, like an unfamiliar language he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Then…” he hesitated, his voice soft and uncertain. “What can I do to repay you for being nice to me?”

His tone was childlike, almost pleading, and Lilith stilled. For a moment, she truly saw him—not the man she had known in Eden, but someone stripped bare, raw and broken.

“Nothing,” she said finally, her voice steady but gentle. “You don’t need to do anything. Just focus on getting better.”

Before he could respond, she leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead, the gesture tender and deliberate. It was strange, even for her—too nice, too soft for someone who was supposed to be hardened by centuries in Hell. But Adam didn’t protest. He only watched her with wide, cautious eyes as she pulled away and smiled faintly.

“Rest,” she reminded him as she moved toward the door. “And eat something this time.”

Adam remained silent, his golden eyes tracking her until the door clicked softly shut behind her.

Once outside, Lilith leaned against the door, her head tipping back as her hand rose to cover her darkening eyes. A cold, simmering rage coursed through her veins, clawing at her chest as tears threatened to spill. She sniffled, blinking hard to push them back, her fingers curling into a fist against the wood of the door.

What the fuck did Heaven do to him?

Adam’s voice echoed in her mind, his words replaying like a cruel melody she couldn’t escape. The weight of them settled heavily on her, the quiet admission of pain and submission cutting deeper than she wanted to admit.

For the first time in centuries, Lilith didn’t feel like a Queen of Hell. She felt powerless. And that terrified her.

Adam’s offer had hung in the air like a curse, haunting Lilith long after she left his room. The words circled in her mind, relentless and accusing. He had offered her the chance to hurt him—like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like pain was all he had ever known. And for what? For “past actions” that, now that she thought about it, weren’t anything close to deserving of punishment.

In Eden, their clashes had been nothing more than disagreements—sharp but trivial. They had butted heads over their purpose, over Heaven’s suffocating control. Adam had clung to the rules because he was terrified to break them, while Lilith had rebelled against them because she couldn’t stand being bound. But now, in the aftermath of Adam’s confession, Lilith was beginning to see the truth.

Adam never had a choice.

The realization struck her like a thunderclap, her chest tightening with a white-hot rage that burned through her like molten steel. She stared down the darkened corridor, her lavender eyes narrowing as they fixed on the heavy office door at the far end. Her lips curled back, baring sharp, predatory teeth as her hands clenched into fists.

Did Lucifer know all this time?

The thought slithered into her mind, unwelcome and venomous. Her jaw tightened, the flickering torches along the walls casting shifting shadows across her face. She trusted Lucifer—loved him with a devotion that had spanned eons—but even he had his secrets. And this? If he had known, if he had been aware of what Heaven had done to Adam and said nothing, done nothing…

Lilith’s nails dug into her palms, drawing pinpricks of blood that dripped to the stone floor. The Queen of Hell didn’t take kindly to betrayal, no matter who the betrayer might be.

Her footsteps echoed loudly as she began walking toward the office door, her long golden hair trailing behind her like a comet’s tail. She wasn’t sure what she would find—or what she would say—but the fury coursing through her demanded answers.

Lilith wasn’t just angry for Adam; she was furious for him. For the childlike way he had asked what he could do to make things right. For the hollow grin that begged for punishment instead of kindness. For the bruises and bite marks that marked his body, and the scars Heaven had carved into his very soul.

If Lucifer knew—and had stayed silent—there would be hell to pay.

~#~

The air in Lucifer's office felt heavy, suffocating, as Lilith stepped inside. The dimly lit room, with its opulent yet oppressive decor, seemed to close in around her as she stood in the doorway, her piercing lavender gaze fixed on the figure behind the desk. Lucifer sat slouched in his chair, his pristine white top hat tilted just enough to obscure his face. He didn’t look up as she approached, but Lilith’s every step echoed like the countdown to judgment.

It wasn’t like him to hide. Lucifer hated this room, hated the work that came with running Hell. He’d spent eons rebelling against the bureaucracy of Heaven, tooth and nail, defiant and proud. Yet here he was, buried in paperwork, avoiding her, avoiding Adam. It only confirmed her worst fear: he knew.

Lilith stopped a few feet from the desk, her voice calm, cold, deliberate—like a shark circling its prey.

“He offered to let me hurt him, Lucifer.” Her words cut through the air, sharp and jagged. “To make up for our disagreements in Eden. To atone for staying in this castle. Like some kind of... twisted reparation.”

Lucifer’s hand, resting on the desk, twitched but didn’t move.

“He’s... childlike,” Lilith continued, her voice steady, but her gaze burned into him. “Did you know that? When he speaks, it’s with the innocence of someone who doesn’t understand that kindness doesn’t require payment in pain. He thinks he deserves to be punished for breathing, for existing.”

Still, Lucifer didn’t look up, and Lilith’s patience frayed. Her eyes narrowed into reptilian slits as she leaned forward.

“His wounds,” she hissed. “They’re not healing. Hell’s power should have mended them by now. But they linger, Lucifer. Like Heaven wanted them to stay. Like someone wanted him to remember every bite, every bruise, every scar.”

Lucifer’s grip on the desk tightened. His knuckles whitened.

“Were you aware of this?” Lilith’s voice dropped lower, quieter, deadlier. “That Heaven has been assaulting Adam since the moment he was created? He told me about Eden, you know. How they hurt him if he questioned them. How they silenced him when he said no. How the marks from their ‘punishments’ stayed for weeks. They’ve been doing this to him his entire existence, Lucifer.”

The desk shook as Lilith’s clawed hand slammed down on its surface.

“Did you know?” she demanded, her voice a whip crack. “Did you know this all along?”

Finally moving, Lucifer slowly lifted his head. When he met her gaze, his golden eyes were hollow, exhausted, the weight of ages etched into every line on his face.

“No,” he said, his voice hoarse. “No, Lilith, I didn’t know. I swear to you, I didn’t.”

Her stare didn’t waver, reading every flicker of his expression, every twitch of his body.

“Then explain,” she said coldly.

Lucifer rose from his chair, his movements slow, deliberate. He ran a hand through his silver hair before speaking.

 “There were times,” he admitted, “When I noticed. He’d have marks—wounds—that didn’t make sense. But when I asked about them, I was told they were accidents. And Adam... he loved the angels, Lilith. He was so excited to be near them. I just assumed he’d pushed their boundaries—touched their wings, hugged them—and they reacted…It made sense. I wasn’t like my brothers or sisters, I always allowed Adam close. If he asked to touch my wings, I said ‘of course’, if he asked for a hug, I would open my arms for him. But the others, they were different.”

Lips curling in disgust, Lilith spat, “So that makes it okay, then?”

“Of course not!” Lucifer snapped, his voice breaking with frustration. “But they always said it was a one-time thing. That they apologized. And when I spoke to Adam, he never said anything. He never seemed frightened of them. I thought it was misunderstandings—nothing more.”

Lilith stared at him; disbelief etched into every line of her face. She rubbed her temples, her claws scraping lightly against her skin.

 “Is that why you’ve been cowering in here?” she hissed. “Because you’re realizing you ignored every red flag?”

“It’s... part of it,” he admitted quietly.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed further. “And the other part?”

His expression darkened, and with a sharp snap of his fingers, a golden parchment appeared in the air between them. He grabbed it, his grip tight enough to crinkle the edges.

“This,” he said, his voice low and venomous. “They sent this a week ago.”

Lilith snatched the parchment from his hand, her eyes scanning the elegant yet hateful script. Her rage boiled as she read, her magic flaring darkly in the air around her.

“They’re fucking insane,” she snarled, her voice dripping with contempt. “They’ve fucking lost their minds.”

Lucifer snorted bitterly. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve already told them to fuck themselves. I’m not giving him back.”

 “Well, good for you for finally standing up for him,” Lilith huffed, crossing her arms.

“I’m trying, Lilith,” he said quietly. Lucifer flinched as if struck. “I didn’t... I made the wrong call. I know that now.”

“You made the wrong call?” Lilith repeated, her voice rising. “They turned him into a woman, Lucifer. They assaulted him, hurt him, drove him to kill himself. And you ignored the signs. You let this happen.”

“I didn’t know!” Lucifer shouted, his voice cracking with anguish. “I saw things, yes, but I believed their lies. I believed Adam was fine. He never told me otherwise—”

“Of course he didn’t!” Lilith interrupted, stepping closer, her fury radiating from her. “Because Heaven conditioned him to never speak out. To believe that pain was his fault. That he deserved it.”

Lucifer’s shoulders sagged, the fire in his eyes dimming.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I know. I failed him. And I will never forgive myself for it.”

The tension in the room thickened, a weight neither of them could lift. For the first time in their long existence together, silence stretched between Lilith and Lucifer, thick and suffocating. It was a silence of guilt, of failure, of realizations that couldn’t be undone. Lucifer sat back in his chair, running a hand over his face, while Lilith stood rigidly, her arms crossed as if trying to hold herself together.

Chest rising and falling as the memories of Eden clawed at Lilith like thorns. She had been so focused on her rebellion, on her freedom, on dragging Lucifer with her, that she hadn’t stopped to see what it had cost Adam. She had left him behind—left him to the very angels who couldn’t understand him, who didn’t want to understand him, who had hurt him because he was different, because he was human.

Her stomach twisted painfully. She had blamed Heaven for so much, but now she saw her own culpability. She hadn’t been there for him when he needed her most. She had taken Lucifer, left Adam alone to endure whatever cruelties Heaven inflicted on him. And for what? Because she had been too wrapped up in her own anger, her own fight for freedom?

The thought sickened her.

Lilith’s voice broke the silence, low but resolute. “He’s not going back.”

Her words carried the weight of a promise, unyielding and absolute. “I don’t care what Heaven threatens. If they want a war, I’ll bring one. I’m not letting Adam go back up there.”

Looking up at her, Lucifer’s golden eyes weary and heavy with remorse. He nodded, his voice soft. “I know, Lilith. I know. I’m not letting him go back either.”

Lilith’s arms tightened around her chest as her expression darkened.

“Why would they even want him back?” she asked, her voice sharp. “He’s a Sinner now. He’s fallen. Heaven doesn’t just take back the damned. Not without some hidden agenda.”

Sighing deeply, Lucifer’s broad shoulders rotating as if to ease the tension building in them. “I don’t know. They won’t say. But I hardly believe it’s for anything good. Their silence speaks louder than any of their proclamations.”

Scoffing bitterly, Lilith’s lip curling. “So much for their talk of righteousness and morals. Heaven seems more fucked up than they want anyone to believe.”

Lucifer didn’t respond to that. He didn’t have to. The truth of her words hung in the air, undeniable and damning.

Letting out a frustrated breath, Lilith’s long, clawed fingers flexing at her sides. She turned sharply on her heel, her long dark hair whipping behind her like a curtain of shadows. Before stepping out of the office, she cast one last withering glance over her shoulder, her gaze pinning Lucifer in place.

“Stop being a fucking coward,” she snapped, her voice cold and cutting. “Go see him. Adam misses you, even if you don’t think he does.”

Lucifer’s head dipped slightly, but he said nothing.

“He can’t stop staring at that damn rubber duck you left on his bed,” Lilith said sharply.

At that, Lucifer’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing in curiosity.

“He... likes it?” His voice was soft, hesitant, almost vulnerable.

“Who knows?” she replied, her voice sharp. “Lilith shrugged nonchalantly. “Why don’t you find out?”

With that, she stormed out, the door closing behind her with a definitive click. Lucifer was left alone in the suffocating quiet of his office, staring at his desk. His mind churned with guilt, regret, and a spark of something else—hope, perhaps?

He leaned back in his chair, his hand brushing the edge of his white top hat. After a long, tense moment, he stood up, straightened his jacket, and strode toward the door.

Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

…Lucifer missed Adam just as much.

~#~

Adam’s legs trembled beneath him as he swung them off the edge of the bed. His body, still weak and sore, protested with every movement. He gasped, his arms flailing instinctively to catch himself, but the floor loomed like an unforgiving abyss. For weeks, Lilith had been tending to him—keeping him in bed, forbidding him to move. She had said his wounds weren’t healing properly and warned that any sudden motion might make things worse. But Adam had grown weary of lying there, staring at the draped curtains of the queen-sized bed, feeling like the world was slowly closing in on him. He needed to move, needed to feel something beyond the suffocating confines of his thoughts.

With a soft groan, Adam forced himself upright, his legs stiff and aching. The hem of his delicate purple nightgown swayed gently around his knees as he slowly, almost painfully, shuffled across the room. He hoped to regain some sensation in his legs, as though his muscles could remember their purpose. But his eyes kept straying to the purple blanket draped over the mirror—an obstruction he had asked Lilith to put there without hesitation. She had done it without question, as she always did when he requested things. But now, with every step he took, he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

His fingers trembled as he reached out to tug at the blanket, the soft fabric almost mocking him with its stillness. With a shaky breath, he yanked it away, exposing the polished surface of the mirror.

Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat. There, reflected back at him, was the stranger he had become. The face staring back at him was a reflection of Eve and Lilith, yes, but still... it was his own. His thick brown curls, now longer than before, cascaded down his back like a wild tangle. They were fuller than Eve’s, more unruly, more him, but all the same, they were different from anything Lilith or Eve possessed. His hair reached his knees now, and he suddenly hated how it hung there, heavy and long, as though it didn’t belong to him. Maybe, he thought, he’d ask Lilith to cut it.

His body, once broad and masculine, was now delicate and slender—more feminine than he had ever imagined possible. His arms and legs were smooth, smaller, and the curve of his stomach was subtle, almost chubby. He wasn’t as fragile or slight as Lilith, but there was no denying the change. His face, too, was rounder, softer, the faintest hint of chubbiness in the cheeks. He sniffled, unable to fight back the overwhelming wave of self-loathing. He looked down at his feet, wishing with all his heart that he could be more like Lilith—more elegant, more beautiful. Her golden hair, always so flawless, seemed like the very definition of perfection. He, on the other hand, was nothing more than a mockery. His hair was nothing more than dull brown, and his horns, blue and twisted, felt like a cruel reminder of his inadequacy.

Suddenly, Adam’s gaze shifted, drawn to the small rubber duck resting at the foot of the bed. For days, he had stared at it, unsure whether he was allowed to touch it, unsure if it was some kind of cruel joke. But now, something inside him stirred—a longing, a need. His hands shook as he reached for it, unsure of what to expect. It was neither too small nor too large, fitting perfectly into his palms as if it had been made for him. But it wasn’t the rubber texture he expected; it was soft, plush, almost comforting in its simplicity. Without thinking, Adam pulled it close to his chest, holding it like a lifeline.

For a fleeting moment, Adam felt a warmth stir within his chest—a small solace amidst the storm of his sorrow. It was brief, fragile, but it was enough to push through the weight of his thoughts. He buried his face into the soft, plush rubber duck, his breath hitching with the effort to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overtake him. But then, his eyes began to burn, the heat creeping up in a strange, uncomfortable way. Surprised, Adam jerked back, blinking rapidly, confused. He felt something—liquid, warm—fall from his eyes, landing on the duck’s plush surface. He stared at it, wide-eyed, as the tears soaked into the fabric.

Was this… crying?

He had seen others weep. Winners, Sinners, even Heavenborns. But Adam had never experienced it himself, not like this. The sensation was alien, overwhelming. His body trembled as the reality of what was happening settled in. His legs buckled beneath him, and slowly, as if the weight of his own confusion had become too much, he sank to his knees. His arms gripped the rubber duck, pressing it to his chest as he looked into the mirror again.

The reflection staring back at him wasn’t him. Not truly. His body was a woman’s body now, his nightgown swaying like a dress, the length of his hair cascading down in soft, feminine waves. His face, though familiar, was different too—softer, rounder, a stranger’s face wearing his own expression. His hands, trembling, squeezed the plushie tighter as the tears continued to fall, unchecked. His breath caught in his throat, choked by the weight of everything he didn’t understand.

He was a woman when he had always been a man.

His breath hitched again, harder this time, and Adam sobbed, the rawness of it crashing over him like a tidal wave. He didn’t know why he was crying. He didn’t know what had triggered it, or why the tears felt like they were pouring out of him uncontrollably. They just… came.

Suddenly, a hand brushed his shoulder. The touch was soft, gentle, but it sent a shock through Adam’s already fragile state. He flinched, jerking back with wide, golden eyes, fear rising in his chest like a sudden storm. His head snapped up, his gaze locking on the figure kneeling beside him. It was Lucifer. The shock was evident on his face—his red and golden eyes wide in surprise, perhaps even a little guilty.

"I—I'm sorry," Lucifer murmured, his voice trembling slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The words seemed to slip from him, desperate, as though he could somehow undo the hurt with his apologies.

Lips quivering, Adam’s heart swelling painfully with a mixture of confusion and relief. Before he could stop himself, his arms shot out, and he threw himself into Lucifer’s chest, clinging to him with all the force his trembling body could muster. His sobs were uncontrollable now—shuddering, broken cries that tore from deep within him.

Lucifer’s arms wrapped around Adam instantly, pulling him close, pressing him against his chest as the weight of Adam’s anguish seemed to fill the room. His voice was a constant stream of apologies, soothing and frantic.

"I'm sorry, Adam. I’m sorry. I never wanted this for you. I never—"

Adam clung tighter, his hands clutching Lucifer’s clothing as he let the tears flow. For the first time in so long, he allowed himself to break. To fall apart, piece by fragile peace. Lucifer didn’t pull away. He held him, a solid, steady presence, and Adam wept into his chest, letting go of everything—his confusion, his pain, his fear of never being enough.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry.”

~#~

The room was quiet except for the soft rustle of the sheets as Adam and Lucifer lay side by side on the queen-sized bed. The night had fallen, and the pale glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. Adam was still, his body stiff and curled slightly towards Lucifer, though they held hands, fingers intertwined. His golden eyes were closed, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say anymore, or perhaps he didn’t have the strength to voice the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. His breath was slow, the only sound breaking the stillness, a rhythm that matched Lucifer’s own.

Lucifer, on the other hand, couldn’t stay silent. His chest ached with guilt, a heaviness that seemed to weigh down his entire being. He kept his gaze on the ceiling, not looking at Adam, but his fingers gently tightened around Adam’s hand, a silent connection. The warmth between them was a stark contrast to the coldness that had lived in Lucifer’s heart for so long.

“I should have known,” Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, soft, raw, full of regret. “I should have seen what was happening, Adam. I should’ve been there for you.”

His words seemed to tremble in the air, and he closed his eyes for a moment, the shame creeping in as he exhaled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His other hand reached up, rubbing his face in frustration, as if he could somehow erase the years of neglect, the moments where he had failed to protect Adam. He turned his head slightly to glance at the still form beside him. Adam’s face was peaceful in sleep, but the expression was strained, as if the comfort he sought in sleep was fragile at best.

“Eden wasn’t right,” Lucifer whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “None of it was right. What they did to you... what they forced you to endure. It shouldn’t have happened.”

His chest felt hollow as he spoke. “Heaven had no right to treat you like that. No right to break you the way they did. And I... I wasn’t there for you. I should’ve fought harder for you, Adam. I should’ve been by your side, standing against everything that tried to hurt you. But I wasn’t.”

Lucifer’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening around Adam’s hand, as if holding onto him now would somehow make up for the lost time. The weight of his own failure pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.

“I couldn’t protect you, and that’s my fault.”

The words felt jagged in his throat, like shards of glass. His golden eyes, usually bright with fire, were dull, filled with sorrow. He turned his head fully to face Adam, his voice a soft rasp as he continued, speaking more to himself than to Adam.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I’m sorry I didn’t notice the signs. I let you suffer... and I wasn’t even there. I shouldn’t have left you in Eden. I should’ve never left you at all.”

Lucifer’s hand found Adam’s hair, brushing the strands gently away from his face as if to somehow smooth away the damage Heaven had caused. The guilt was unbearable, twisting in his chest as he looked at the man beside him, the man who had always been there for him in ways Lucifer had never fully understood until now. Adam had been broken, and Lucifer had failed him.

“You didn’t deserve any of this, Adam,” Lucifer murmured softly, voice thick with emotion. “You deserved so much better. And I swear, I’ll never let them hurt you again.”

There was silence again, but it wasn’t the same heavy silence that had filled the room before. Now, it was a silence of shared sorrow, of regret that hung thick in the air between them. Adam still didn’t speak. But Lucifer didn’t expect him to. He didn’t want to push Adam, didn’t want to force anything. This moment wasn’t about trying to fix what was broken. It was about understanding that some things couldn’t be fixed, only healed with time.

Lucifer settled back into the bed, not pulling away from Adam but drawing him a little closer. His eyes lingered on Adam’s face, watching the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. In that moment, Lucifer realized the weight of the world didn’t rest on fixing the past. It rested on protecting Adam now, ensuring that no more harm would come to him.

“I’ll be here,” Lucifer promised, his voice a soft vow. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay. I’ll fight for you, Adam. I’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens again. I swear it.”

And in the quiet stillness of the room, as Adam’s breathing evened out and Lucifer’s hand remained locked around his, it was enough to hold on to—for now.

Adam shifted on the bed, his body trembling slightly from the effort as he propped himself up on his elbows. The soft rustle of the sheets was the only sound in the room for a moment as his tired, golden eyes slowly flickered open. He blinked a few times, as though struggling to bring the world into focus, before his gaze landed on Lucifer. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and his expression was a mix of confusion and a deep, unspoken sadness.

He looked at Lucifer for a long moment, as if weighing the decision, before his voice broke the silence. It was quiet, almost a whisper, but it held so much weight.

“Why?”

The word hung in the air like a delicate thread, fragile and heavy at once. Adam swallowed, his throat tight, and continued in the same small voice, barely audible.

“Why did you leave me alone in Eden?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in shock, a deep, unspoken pain flashing across his face. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. He hadn’t expected Adam to voice the question out loud, and it hit him harder than he imagined it would. His lips parted in an attempt to speak, but for a moment, no words came.

He swallowed hard, the pain of his guilt evident as his face twisted with a mixture of regret and sorrow. There was no excuse, not really. He had no answers that could undo the damage, no way to take back the moments when he should have been there, should have seen the signs. His voice was thick with emotion when he finally spoke.

“I... I have no excuse, Adam,” Lucifer admitted quietly, his voice strained. “I was being selfish. I only thought about myself. I was angry with Heaven, angry with everything they were doing to humans. I wanted to give them the freedom to think for themselves, to live without their chains, but... in doing all of that... I didn’t see when you needed me most. I didn’t see you.”

He looked down at the bed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as if holding himself back from something, some deep well of emotion that threatened to burst. His gaze was far away, haunted by the weight of his own failure.

“I should’ve been there. I should’ve been with you, and I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

dam’s eyes welled with tears as he heard Lucifer’s words, the soft sniffle escaping him as he lowered his head again, his face pressed into the cool fabric of the pillow. He didn’t say anything at first, but his chest trembled as he mumbled softly, the words barely escaping his lips.

“I missed you...” His voice was thick with emotion, barely a whisper. “I didn’t like it when you left me all alone in Eden. I tried... I tried to find you and Lilith... I thought if I apologized, if I just... said I was sorry, you wouldn’t be mad at me anymore.”

Lucifer’s breath hitched in his throat, his own eyes filling with tears at the sound of Adam’s voice, fragile and full of heartbreak. He reached out, almost instinctively, but he hesitated, afraid that Adam might recoil again. Instead, Lucifer leaned forward slightly, his gaze soft and full of sorrow as he whispered the words that had been waiting on his tongue for so long.

“We... we were never mad at you, Adam,” Lucifer said, his voice breaking slightly. “We were... we were mad with Heaven. It was never you. It was never your fault.”

Lucifer’s hand gently brushed a strand of Adam’s hair back from his forehead, a tender gesture, as if trying to offer some form of comfort, even though he knew words alone couldn’t heal the wound they both carried. Adam didn’t look up, his face still buried in the pillow, but Lucifer’s words seemed to seep into him, gentle, like a balm for a wound too deep to see.

Lucifer could feel the weight of his own failures, could feel the distance between them, but he was determined to bridge it now. For Adam, for both of them. They couldn’t change what had already happened, but they could heal from it. They had to.

"I’m sorry, Adam..." Lucifer whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled Adam into another tight embrace. The warmth of his chest was a stark contrast to the cold ache that had gripped Adam's heart for so long.

Adam hesitated for a moment, but then, with a soft, trembling breath, he whispered back, “It’s okay.”

Lucifer’s breath caught at the words. His hand tightened around Adam, a desperate need to hold him close.

“It’s not,” he muttered, almost to himself. His voice cracked with rawness as he pulled Adam even closer, pressing their bodies together as if to shield him from the world that had broken him. “It’s not okay. But I will make up for it. I will protect you. I won’t let you be hurt ever again.”

Adam lifted his head slightly, his eyes still dull with exhaustion and sorrow. He looked up at Lucifer, his small frown tugging at Lucifer’s heart. “I... want to stay here. I don’t want to go back.”

Lucifer’s throat tightened painfully, a wave of protectiveness and guilt crashing over him. Without another word, he pulled Adam closer still, wrapping his arms tighter around him. He buried his face in Adam’s hair, inhaling deeply, as if trying to ground himself in the moment, in the reality that Adam was here—safe, and in his arms. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

Lucifer’s wings unfurled from his back, large and dark, a silent promise of safety and strength. With a soft rustle, they cocooned around the two of them, enveloping Adam in a blanket of warmth and protection. Lucifer let the wings encase them, surrounding Adam with the comfort of his presence, of his vow.

“You’re not going back,” Lucifer said, his voice low, filled with unwavering determination. His lips brushed the top of Adam’s head as he spoke, the words full of fierce love.

“You will never be going back to Heaven ever again. I won’t ever allow that to happen.” His voice was firm, unyielding, as if the very concept of Adam returning to that place of pain was something he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, bear.

Adam remained silent, but Lucifer could feel the way his body slowly relaxed, as if his words had finally begun to settle into Adam’s heart. Lucifer held him close, pressing him further into the safety of his embrace, as if nothing and no one could ever take him away again.

~#~

A week had passed, and Adam found himself standing on shaky legs, forced to take the next step—a step that felt both impossible and necessary. His golden eyes were wide with exhaustion, their usual glow dimmed by a mix of weariness and uncertainty. Lilith stood before him, her hands enveloping his gently, like a lifeline. Her smile was soft, but there was a quiet determination in her eyes as she lightly tugged him forward, guiding him across the room.

"You're doing so well," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm to the aching tension in his muscles. Her gaze lingered briefly on the bruises that marred his legs, but she was quick to mask her concern with a warm, encouraging expression. The dark, angry marks had finally begun to fade, shifting into a soft golden hue. Healing, slowly but surely.

"I knew you could do it."

Adam’s feet shuffled, his steps uneven, his legs trembling as if betraying him with every move. He could feel the sting of the effort, the burning reminder of his body’s fragility.

"I can walk, Lilith," he mumbled, his voice tinged with frustration. "It just hurts to take more than a few steps."

Lilith chuckled, a sound that wrapped around him like a soft breeze. She gave his hands an affectionate squeeze, as though reassuring him that each tiny victory mattered. "And yet, you're doing it."

Adam sighed, the weight of the day pressing on his chest.

"Yay me," he muttered dryly, his voice laced with a touch of self-deprecating humour. "I've made the same progress as a toddler."

From behind them, a low laugh echoed—rich, deep, and warm. Lucifer lounged lazily on the queen-sized bed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, watching the scene with a mixture of affection and amusement. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting with that characteristic knowing smile.

"You're not wrong," Lucifer teased, his voice light yet laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of something softer—pride, perhaps. His lips curled into a smirk as his crimson and golden eyes gleamed mischievously. "But think about it this way: for a toddler, those small steps are monumental achievements. You're practically a prodigy."

Adam shot Lucifer a withering glare, his golden eyes narrowing sharply.

"Why are you even here?" he muttered, his voice tinged with annoyance. "Don't you have a kingdom to run or something?"

With an over-the-top dramatic groan, Lucifer rolled across the queen-sized bed until he was upside down, his cute little hooves stretching up the pillows to tap against the headboard. Basil, his golden snake companion, hissed softly and slithered away, clearly unimpressed as Lucifer’s white top hat tumbled to the floor.

"Running a kingdom is soooooo boring and exhausting!" Lucifer complained, his tone theatrical as he tilted his head all the way back to lock eyes with Adam.

"I’m in desperate need of a break. Besides," he added with a sly grin, "I have far more pressing business to attend to."

Raising an eyebrow, Adam glanced between Lilith and the lounging devil. "Oh? And what’s that?"

Lucifer propped himself up on his elbows, his grin widening. "I’m moving rooms."

Adam blinked in confusion. "Moving rooms?"

He glanced at Lilith, puzzled. "Don’t you two share a room? Why would you move out?"

Lilith smirked, her lavender eyes glittering with amusement as she tightened her grip on Adam’s hands and leaned in conspiratorially. "We did share a room… until Lucifer’s little obsession got completely out of hand."

Adam tilted his head curiously. "Obsession? What kind of obsession?"

Lucifer’s grin turned triumphant as he sat up dramatically, his wings fluttering slightly behind him. "Oh, Lilies, don’t act like you don’t adore them! They’re masterpieces!"

"Masterpieces?" Lilith scoffed, rolling her eyes with mock exasperation. "He’s filled our entire room with rubber ducks, Adam. I can’t even begin to explain how this started, but let me assure you, it’s neither charming nor practical. It’s downright overwhelming."

"Negative, negative," Lucifer muttered, wagging a clawed finger at her as he flopped onto his stomach and cupped his face in his hands, his black tail swaying lazily behind him.

Adam found his gaze drawn to the tail, its slow, deliberate movement oddly mesmerizing. Lucifer caught him staring and, ever the showman, swished it more alluringly, his grin widening.

"It stopped being cute when you started putting them in the bed," Lilith deadpanned, though Adam caught the subtle curl of her lips betraying her amusement. She turned her attention back to Adam. "So, you see, we have no choice but to move rooms. Apparently, uprooting these so-called ‘residents’ is too heartbreaking for Lucifer to bear."

Adam’s jaw dropped as he turned back to Lucifer. "Are you serious?!"

Lucifer gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Of course! They’ve lived their entire lives in those sheets! They’ve gotten married, started families, raised their little ducklings. To displace them now would be inhumane!"

Lilith sighed, shaking her head in amused disbelief. "They’re rubber, my love."

"You wouldn’t understand!" Lucifer exclaimed, throwing his arms wide.

The absurdity of it all was too much. Adam burst into laughter, the sound ringing clear and bright—a sound that hadn’t graced the room since Eden. His cheeks flushed with warmth, his golden eyes sparkling.

But when he noticed both Lilith and Lucifer staring at him, his laughter faltered, and he clamped his mouth shut, suddenly self-conscious.

"I… I mean, if you want to," he stammered, glancing down and then back up at Lilith, "you could… stay in here? With me?"

Lilith tilted her head, her expression softening as Adam quickly backtracked. "Not—not in a weird or creepy way! I just… I miss you, Lilith. I miss when we used to… you know, back in Eden, when we’d watch the stars and make up silly stories about the animals and flowers."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "I miss that. I miss you. I’m sorry."

A tender smile spread across Lilith’s face, her lavender eyes shimmering with a mix of nostalgia and affection.

"I miss you too, Adam," she murmured. "I miss our nights in Eden, the way we’d laugh and dream together."

Reaching up, she gently brushed her fingers against his cheek, her touch light and reassuring.

"I’d love to rebuild that with you," she said softly. "To create new memories together."

Adam blinked up at her, his golden eyes wide with disbelief, tears threatening to spill once more.

"What?!" Lucifer’s voice cracked, shattering the moment.

Both Adam and Lilith turned to find him sitting up on the bed, looking utterly scandalized. His dishevelled hair and flustered expression made him resemble a frazzled bird more than the King of Hell.

"That’s not fair!" he whined, his voice pitching slightly. "I wanted to move in here with Adam!"

Lilith chuckled, her lavender eyes gleaming with mischief.

"You know, Adam," she began with an exaggeratedly thoughtful tone, "I wouldn’t be surprised if Lucifer had this all planned out. Tricking you into letting him move in here, too."

Lucifer, who had just opened his mouth to retort, froze. His cheeks turned a radiant shade of red, quickly followed by streaks of glowing gold creeping up his neck and ears.

"T-Tricking?!" he sputtered, sitting upright. "I would never! That’s—that’s absurd!"

Lilith’s smirk widened, and she leaned down to blow a playful raspberry at him. "Oh, really?"

"I—!" Lucifer floundered, flustered beyond words. His pout deepened as he sulked and flopped dramatically back onto the bed, burying himself beneath a mountain of quilts and blankets.

"It’s not fair," he mumbled, his voice muffled and petulant.

Adam blinked at the lump of blankets where Lucifer had disappeared, tilting his head like a curious bird. He didn’t recall ever seeing Lucifer act like this before. It was… strange. Endearing, even. Was this because of him? Surely not—Lucifer didn’t sulk over Adam… did he?

"Jealous, are we?" Lilith teased further, her voice sing-song and brimming with amusement.

From under the blankets came a low, grumbling whine, almost cat-like in its crankiness. Lucifer shifted, burrowing deeper into the covers as if trying to escape the accusation.

Lilith let out a delighted laugh, but Adam found himself tilting his head in thought. That made sense, didn’t it? Lucifer was jealous, wasn’t he? He must have felt left out, watching Adam and Lilith together like this.

Humming softly, Adam glanced down at his trembling feet before slowly stepping back, releasing Lilith’s hands. His knees wobbled as he turned toward the bed, his golden eyes fixed on the quilt-covered lump. Carefully, he shuffled closer, his shaky hands gripping the polished wooden frame for support as he leaned forward.

“Luci,” Adam called softly, his voice tender and curious.

The lump stilled.

“Luci, are you feeling left out?” Adam asked, his tone laced with gentle concern. “You don’t have to be. You can stay in here too.”

For a moment, there was no movement. Then, the pile of quilts shifted slightly. Bit by bit, Lucifer peeked out, his tousled hair and bright red-and-gold eyes emerging from the shadows. His gaze was hesitant, almost vulnerable.

“R-Really?” Lucifer asked, his voice quiet, tinged with disbelief. “I can stay in here too?”

Adam nodded, his smile growing warm and bright. “Yeah. Of course, you can, Luci.”

Blinking, Lucifer’s eyes wide as he fully emerged from his cocoon of blankets, looking almost childlike in his cautious hope.

“You mean it?”

Adam reached out a hand, resting it lightly on Lucifer’s arm.

“I mean it,” he said sincerely. “There’s no reason for you to feel left out. You’re important to me too.”

Lucifer’s face lit up with a mix of joy and relief. His tail swished behind him, betraying his excitement, and he quickly pulled Adam into a warm, slightly squishy hug, tucking his chin against Adam’s hair.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice soft and heartfelt.

From the side, Lilith watched with a knowing smile, her heart swelling as she saw the tenderness between them.

"Well," she teased lightly, "I guess that means the three of us are sharing a room now."

Lucifer grinned, his confidence quickly returning as he looked over Adam’s shoulder at Lilith.

“That’s right!” Lucifer declared, his grin as wide as ever. His arms remained securely wrapped around Adam, holding him close like a treasured possession. “I’ll bring some of my ducks too! I bet you’ll love them, Addie!”

Lilith let out an exaggerated groan, pinching the bridge of her nose. But her expression softened almost instantly, betraying the undeniable fondness she felt for the both of them.

“Just... don’t put them in the bed, please.”

Lucifer didn’t bother responding to her plea. Instead, with a sudden burst of playful energy, he yanked Adam onto the bed with him. The motion drew a startled gasp from Adam, but before he could say a word, Lucifer had already curled himself protectively around him. His clawed hands looped securely around Adam’s middle, pulling him into a warm embrace. Without hesitation, Lucifer buried his face into the crook of Adam’s neck, a low, contented purr rumbling from deep within his chest.

“I can’t make any promises,” Lucifer murmured cheekily, his voice muffled against Adam’s skin.

Lilith sighed dramatically, crossing her arms beneath her bust and shaking her head with mock exasperation. She pushed a golden curl off her flawlessly curved shoulder, her lavender eyes closing as she sighed.

"I suppose this means walking practice is officially cancelled for the rest of the day?”

Lucifer didn’t so much as acknowledge her. His tail—long, sinuous, and arrowed at the tip—swayed behind him with unmistakable glee, almost like a puppy wagging its tail. He nuzzled further into Adam’s neck, his purring growing even louder, an audible symbol of his delight.

Adam, for his part, trembled slightly in Lucifer’s hold. His golden eyes darted up toward Lilith, wide with worry. He hoped she wouldn’t be upset about this. It had been so long since he’d been hugged—truly hugged—that he’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. This warmth, this closeness... it felt fragile and fleeting, and he was terrified of it slipping away.

“Lily,” he called out meekly, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Lilith blinked in surprise, her attention immediately drawn to him. "Yes, Addie?"

His gaze dropped momentarily, shy and uncertain, before flicking back up to meet hers.

“Don’t you want to cuddle with us too?” he asked timidly, his cheeks dusting with pink. “Like we did in Eden?”

Lucifer’s head shot up so quickly it was a miracle he didn’t bonk it against Adam’s. His red-and-gold eyes sparkled with excitement as he chimed in enthusiastically, “Yeah, Lilies! Come here! Come cuddle with us!”

Lilith raised a delicate eyebrow, her lips curling into a slow, amused smile.

“I see,,” she purred, her tone as smooth as silk, “I can’t exactly say no to such a wonderful invite, now can I?”

With a graceful sway in her movements, she approached the other side of the bed. She sat down delicately, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight. Her cool, gentle fingers reached out to run through Adam’s long, fluffy curls, the motion soothing and affectionate.

“Aw, Addie,” she cooed, her voice brimming with tenderness. “You’re so cute~”

Adam flushed deeper, his face a bright shade of red as he squirmed slightly under her touch. Yet, despite his bashfulness, there was a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.

Lucifer, clearly pleased with how things were unfolding, grinned like a satisfied cat. His tail swished even more exuberantly, and his arms tightened protectively around Adam.

 “See?” he said triumphantly, glancing at Lilith. “Now this is what I call perfect.”

Lilith chuckled softly, resting her chin atop Adam’s head while her fingers continued to thread through his curls.

“I have to admit,” she murmured, her lavender eyes glowing with warmth, “It does feel a bit like Eden again.”

It was a strange experience, a strange feeling—one Adam hadn’t felt in what seemed like eons. Being nestled between them like this, it felt like Eden. Like coming home.

Adam blinked wide-eyed up at the soft purple and black curtains draped elegantly across the beams of the canopy bed. The rich fabrics criss-crossed above him, casting gentle shadows over their shared sanctuary. His chest rose and fell in steady breaths, but his heart felt anything but calm.

He sniffled, the sound quiet and raw, his body tense even in the embrace of the two beings who had once been his entire world. Lucifer’s warm breath ghosted over the delicate skin of his throat, while Lilith’s gentle exhale tickled the top of his curls. Her arm cradled his head like a pillow, soft and protective. Adam’s hands were folded over his stomach—a stomach that was softer and more tender than it had been when he was a man. It wasn’t as large, but it still felt unfamiliar in this new form.

“I’m sorry.”

The words came suddenly, trembling and small, breaking the stillness of the room. Both Lilith and Lucifer stiffened, their golden heads lifting slightly in surprise.

“What for, Addie?” Lilith asked softly, her voice a soothing melody as her hand continued to stroke through his curls.

Adam hesitated, his throat tight as his emotions swirled.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated, his voice faltering. “For how I acted in Eden. I wasn’t very nice. I yelled, I cried, a-and I was mean. I’m sorry.”

Lucifer tilted his head back, his long lashes brushing lightly against Adam’s flushed cheek. His crimson and gold eyes softened as he gazed at Adam, his expression filled with a tenderness that was almost overwhelming.

 “Adam,” he murmured, his voice warm and gentle, “You don’t need to apologize.”

But Adam sniffled again, his chest swelling with the weight of unspoken words.

“No, I do,” he insisted, his voice cracking slightly. “I was mad, and I was upset. I didn’t understand why you two were pushing me away, why you were leaving me out, and it... it scared me.”

His voice trembled, and he swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “I was... I was always left by myself. You two always went off without me, and I—I wanted to be with you both too. I wanted to leave the garden, to explore the earth without fear... with you. But I was scared. I was so scared. Every time I tried to—”

His words broke off, his breathing shaky as he fought to continue. “Every time I tried to do something I wanted, something that wasn’t in line with Heaven’s rules... something that went against what the angels told me to do... I was punished for it. I was hurt for it. A-and I didn’t understand why.”

His voice dropped to a trembling whisper, his words fragile and heavy with pain. “I didn’t know why I was always hurt for trying to be like you. Like you both. A-and why you both left me...”

The room fell into a profound silence, broken only by Adam’s quiet, shuddering breaths. Lilith’s hand froze in his hair, her lavender eyes wide with an anguish that mirrored Lucifer’s.

“Oh, Adam...” Lilith whispered, her voice trembling. Her other hand moved to cup his cheek, her touch cool and comforting. “We never meant to hurt you. Never. I wish... I wish we had seen how much you were struggling, how much you needed us then.”

Lucifer’s grip around Adam tightened protectively, his claws pressing just shy of painful against Adam’s middle. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came at first. He looked lost, pained, his tail curling tightly around one of the bedposts like a lifeline.

Adam’s golden eyes glistened with unshed tears as he turned his head slightly, looking at both of them. “I just... I just wanted to be with you. That’s all I ever wanted…”

“I just wanted a friend…”

Lilith leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently to Adam’s.

“You’re with us now,” she murmured. “And we’ll never leave you again.”

Lucifer let out a soft, almost broken laugh, burying his face back into Adam’s neck.

“Never again,” he echoed. His voice was laced with a vow—a promise that even Hell itself couldn’t break.

Lucifer’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, but the weight of his words made Adam’s chest tighten. “What happened to you, Adam?”

Adam froze. His breath hitched, his golden eyes glistening with tears as he looked down at his trembling hands. His fingers curled into the soft fabric of his nightgown, clinging to it as though it might anchor him. He sniffled, trying to wipe away the tears that spilled freely, but they just kept coming.

Lilith leaned closer, her delicate hand brushing his cheek as she pressed a tender kiss to the wet trail of tears.

“It’s okay, Addie,” she murmured, her voice soothing and warm, like a lullaby. “You can tell us. We’ll never judge you, I promise. Whatever it is, you’re safe now.”

Adam’s lips quivered, his chest heaving as he tried to form the words. The memories were tangled and dark, like thorns wrapped around his heart, and each attempt to speak felt like they dug deeper into him. His teary golden gaze dropped to his feet, and he curled his toes together, pressing them tightly against each other in a small, childlike gesture.

“I... um...” he stammered, his voice barely audible. His throat felt raw, his mouth dry, but he forced himself to keep going. “I was good. I think I was. I followed everything they wanted. I-I did everything that was asked of me. I never fought against them after Eden. I never spoke out, a-and...”

Lilith’s fingers wove through his hair, her touch comforting as she hugged him close.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, her tone filled with unwavering love. “We’re here for you, Adam. Take your time.”

Lucifer shifted, sliding himself further up Adam’s side. His warmth was a steady presence, his cheek brushing against Adam’s as he nuzzled him gently.

“What is it, Adam?” he asked softly, his voice like velvet but carrying an edge of concern. “You can tell us. You can tell us anything.”

Adam shuddered, his entire body trembling as his skin prickled. A tingling sensation swept through him—a strange mixture of fear and safety all at once. He swallowed hard, his dry throat aching, and his nose twitched as though it might betray him with another sob.

“I-I...” Adam’s voice cracked, his vision blurring with fresh tears. He took a shaky breath, his chest tightening to the point it felt like it might collapse in on itself. “I was a good boy. A good soldier. I-I did everything they asked of me. I thought—I thought I was doing well for them. B-But then... then they wanted to do something I didn’t like. Something I couldn’t accept. And—and...”

The words caught in his throat, and the memories surged forward like a tidal wave. His entire body jerked as if struck, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

Lucifer’s reaction was immediate. With a sense of urgency, he crawled fully up Adam’s body, his arms wrapping tightly around him. He pulled Adam into his chest, pressing his head firmly against him, as though shielding him from whatever ghosts haunted his mind.

“What did they want to do?” Lucifer’s voice was low, a growl laced with anger and something darker. His crimson eyes flared, blazing with demonic magic that danced like wildfire in the dim light of the room.

Adam clung to Lucifer, his hands gripping at the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt as though it were his lifeline. His body trembled violently, his words caught in a storm of fear and heartbreak.

“They—” Adam choked, his voice muffled against Lucifer’s chest. “They wanted to take something from me. S-something that was mine. I couldn’t—I wouldn’t let them. But they... they hurt me for it. I don’t understand why.”

Lucifer’s arms tightened protectively around Adam, his expression darkening further. His tail lashed behind him, his fury barely contained. Lilith reached out, her hand resting on Adam’s back as she leaned in closer, her lavender eyes shimmering with a mix of sorrow and rage.

“They had no right to hurt you,” Lilith whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “No right at all.”

Adam shook his head weakly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I-I thought if I was good enough, they’d stop. But they didn’t. They just kept asking for more. More obedience. More sacrifices. More of me.”

Lucifer let out a low, dangerous growl, his grip on Adam unrelenting.

“They’ll never touch you again,” he vowed, his voice a deadly promise. “I’ll burn Heaven to the ground before I let them lay a hand on you.”

Adam’s breath hitched at Lucifer’s words, the intensity of his protection both frightening and comforting. For the first time, he felt like someone truly saw him, truly cared about what he’d been through.

Lilith pressed a kiss to his temple, her touch like a balm on his frayed nerves.

“You’re safe now,” she murmured. “You don’t have to fight anymore. We’ll protect you. Always.”

Adam’s fingers loosened slightly from Lucifer’s shirt, his trembling subsiding just enough for him to take a shaky breath. The warmth of their embrace seeped into him, chasing away the cold that had gripped his soul for so long.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Adam allowed himself to believe them. To believe that maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t alone anymore.

“T-There’s more, Luci!” Adam blurted out, “T-There’s still more I need to say!”

Lucifer’s hand stilled on Adam’s back for a fraction of a second before resuming its comforting rhythm. His frown deepened as he shifted to look down at Adam, his crimson and gold eyes soft with concern but sharp with curiosity.

“What is it, Adam? What more is there?”

Adam hiccupped through his tears, his breath catching as he tried to find the courage to speak. His hands twisted the fabric of Lucifer’s shirt, his entire body trembling as he forced himself to continue.

“Heaven… Heaven wants to blindside you. In the next meeting.”

Lucifer’s expression darkened, his free hand clenching into a fist.

“Blindside us? With what?” he asked, his voice low but dangerously steady.

Adam gasped for air, his tears streaming freely. He couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out in a rush, his voice trembling with urgency. “Heaven wants to force your hand! They—they want you to agree to something called the Extermination.”

Lilith, who had been quietly rubbing Adam’s arm, froze. Her lavender eyes hardened, her beautiful face darkening with an intensity that made Adam’s stomach twist. “

Extermination?” she repeated, her voice laced with venom.

Adam nodded frantically, his words spilling over each other in his desperation to get them out. “I tried—I tried to stop it, but they wouldn’t listen to me! They want to hold an Extermination—a whole week where they send special Heavenborn angels down into Hell to… to slaughter thousands of sinners.”

Lilith’s lips curled into a snarl, her anger flashing like lightning in her eyes. “What?”

Adam’s voice cracked as he sobbed, his small hands gripping Lucifer’s shirt even tighter. “They’re scared of you, Lilith! They’re terrified that you’re gathering the sinners, that you’re holding them together and teaching them to think for themselves. They think you’re going to lead a rebellion against Heaven’s rules.”

Lucifer’s grip on Adam tightened protectively, his body stiff with tension.

 “And their solution is to murder them?” he hissed, his voice like the crack of thunder.

Adam hiccupped again, struggling to keep himself from breaking down completely. “They think the population of Hell is too dangerous to ignore. They think if they… if they kill enough of them, they’ll scare the rest into submission.”

Leaning in closer, Lilith’s hand cradling Adam’s tear-streaked face as she looked at him with a mixture of fury and sorrow.

“And you?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What did they want from you, Adam?”

Adam swallowed hard, his entire body shaking as he forced the next words out. “They wanted me to lead the army. They—they wanted me to be the one to lead these warrior, soldier angels into Hell. To kill them. But I… I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.”

Freezing, Lucifer’s eyes widening as he hissed out sharply. “They did this to you because of that?!”

Adam buried his face in Lucifer’s chest, his muffled sobs wracking his small frame. “

Yes!” he cried, his voice cracking. “They turned me into this because I refused! I wouldn’t lead the army against the sinners. They—they’re part of me, Lucifer! They’re my children. I couldn’t just… cast them aside because they made mistakes. I couldn’t do it!”

Lucifer’s entire body went rigid, his tail snapping behind him in agitation. His glowing eyes burned brighter, the flames of his fury almost palpable.

“They punished you for protecting your children?” His voice was low and dangerous, a quiet storm building in his chest.

Lilith’s face was a mask of rage, her fingers trembling as she gently brushed Adam’s hair back from his tear-soaked face.

“They dared to do this to you,” she murmured, her voice dark and filled with promise. “Because you wouldn’t become their monster.”

Adam looked up at them with wide, teary eyes, his golden gaze shimmering with pain. “I just… I just wanted to protect them. I couldn’t stand the thought of leading them to slaughter. But Heaven… Heaven hates me now. They said I was weak. That I was… broken.”

Lucifer let out a low, guttural growl, his protective embrace tightening around Adam.

“You’re not broken, Adam,” he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. “You’re the bravest soul I’ve ever known. And if Heaven wants a fight, then they’ll get one.”

Lilith leaned down, pressing a kiss to Adam’s forehead as her eyes burned with fierce determination.

“We won’t let them get away with this, Addie. Not to you. Not to anyone.”

~#~

The grand meeting hall was filled with an uneasy silence. Light poured in through the stained glass windows, casting distorted images of angels and heavenly battles onto the polished marble floor. At the long, obsidian table in the centre of the room, Lucifer sat, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on the surface. His crimson and gold eyes flickered between calm and blood red every few seconds, a clear sign of his barely contained rage. Every so often, his horns threatened to break through the blonde strands of his hair, only to recede as he forced himself to stay composed.

Lilith sat beside him, the picture of poise and elegance. Her lavender eyes sparkled with a dangerous calm; her hands perfectly folded in her lap. She reached out and placed a gentle hand over Lucifer’s, stilling his restless fingers.

“Lucifer,” she murmured, her voice soothing yet firm. “Stay calm.”

He looked at her, his frown deepening as his jaw clenched.

“I’m trying,” he hissed under his breath. “I really am. But I’m so angry. Why aren’t you angry?”

Lilith tilted her head slightly, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She closed her eyes briefly, as though to centre herself.

 “Oh, I am furious,” she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of steel. “You just can’t see it. I’ve always been good at masking it.”

She opened her eyes, the lavender hue darkened by her hidden fury. “Believe me, my love, I want to rip every angel in this room apart with my bare hands. But we must keep our heads.”

Lucifer let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as his tail flicked irritably behind him.

“I know,” he muttered, his voice strained. “I know. It’s just… I can’t help it. This is all my fault.”

Lilith’s calm demeanour faltered slightly, her gaze softening as she looked down at her lap. “It is as much your fault as it is mine,” she replied quietly, her fingers tightening around his hand.

Lucifer shook his head vehemently, his golden curls bouncing slightly with the movement. “No, Lilith. It’s my fault.”

He looked away, his gaze fixed on the intricate patterns carved into the table. “I was Adam’s guardian archangel. I was supposed to protect him. And I failed him. I wasn’t there when he needed me the most.”

Lilith’s brows furrowed, her calm mask slipping further as her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Lucifer…” she began, her voice gentle yet firm.

“No,” he interrupted, his voice cracking slightly. “You don’t understand. Adam trusted me. He looked up to me, and I…”

His fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms. “I left him behind. I let him fend for himself in a world that was designed to break him.”

Lilith reached up and cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at her.

“You didn’t fail him, Lucifer,” she said firmly. “You were fighting your own battles. Heaven doesn’t allow its angels to care, to feel. You were punished for trying to love him, for trying to protect him.”

Lucifer’s eyes shimmered with a mix of anger and regret. “But I should’ve found a way. I should’ve done more.”

Lilith leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And yet, here we are now. Together. Fighting for him.”

She placed her other hand over his, her touch grounding him. “That’s what matters.”

Before Lucifer could respond, the doors to the hall creaked open, and a procession of angels began to file in. Their pristine white robes and glowing auras were a sharp contrast to the dark and ominous presence of the two royals seated at the table.

Lucifer straightened his posture, his anger simmering just beneath the surface as he tightened his grip on Lilith’s hand.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, his eyes flashing blood red once more.

Lilith’s smirk returned, her lavender eyes narrowing as she watched the angels take their seats.

“Stay sharp, my love,” she said softly. “The game is just beginning.”

Lucifer nodded, the weight of his guilt momentarily pushed aside by the resolve to protect Adam—and the damned souls that Heaven sought to destroy. As the angels began to slip through those mocking golden doors, he exchanged a brief glance with Lilith. Her calm, unwavering gaze was all the reassurance he needed.

They were in this together, and Heaven had no idea what they were up against.

And they weren’t about to give Adam back.

The tension in the grand hall was palpable, the air thick with unspoken animosity as the angels of Heaven and the royalty of Hell faced off. The obsidian table between them seemed to hum with the weight of centuries-old grudges and bitter resentments. Lucifer sat rigid in his chair, his fingers gripping the armrests so tightly they might splinter. Beside him, Lilith radiated an eerie calm, her lavender eyes fixed on the gilded double doors that creaked open with slow, deliberate menace.

Michael entered first, his golden armour gleaming as though freshly forged, his face a mask of divine authority. Behind him, Seraphiel—Sera to those who dared address her informally—followed, her robes flowing like liquid light, her expression serene but her eyes sharp as a blade. Together, they strode forward, their steps echoing ominously in the cavernous hall.

Lucifer’s eyes burned with barely restrained fury as he watched them approach. His horns, though suppressed, seemed to pulse faintly beneath his golden curls. Lilith reached over and rested a cool hand on his forearm, a silent reminder to stay composed. He exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t break his piercing gaze.

Michael and Sera came to a stop at the opposite end of the table. Michael stood tall, his hands clasped behind his back, while Sera surveyed the room with an air of condescension, as though the very existence of Hell was an offense she tolerated only out of necessity.

"Lucifer. Lilith," Michael greeted, his tone even but cold. "I see you’re both punctual. How... refreshing."

Lucifer smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

 "We do aim to please, Michael," he drawled, leaning back in his chair. "Although I can’t say the same for your entrances. The dramatics are a bit much, don’t you think?"

Sera’s lips twitched, almost imperceptibly, before she composed herself.

"Coming from you, Lucifer? That’s rich," she said smoothly, her voice like honey laced with venom. "But we’re not here to trade barbs, are we?"

"No," Lilith interjected, her voice silky but firm. "We’re here because you requested this meeting. Let’s not waste time pretending otherwise."

"Save the pleasantries," Lucifer cut in sharply, sitting forward now. His eyes glinted dangerously as he laced his fingers together on the table. "Let’s get to the heart of it, shall we? Is this meeting about your so-called 'extermination' plan? Or is it about Adam?"

The question hung in the air like a thunderclap. Michael and Sera both froze, their carefully crafted composure cracking for the briefest of moments. Michael’s brow furrowed, while Sera’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Michael was the first to recover.

"Did Adam... tell you that?" he asked, his voice steady but tinged with suspicion.

Lucifer snorted, leaning back once more.

"And if he did?" he replied coolly, his tone daring them to challenge him.

Sera’s gaze narrowed as she stepped forward, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.

"So he is already disobeying?" she said, her voice like ice.

Lucifer’s calm facade shattered. He slammed a hand down on the table, the force sending a crack spiderwebbing through the obsidian surface. His eyes flared blood red as his voice boomed.

"Disobeying? Disobeying? Heaven broke him! You turned him into—!"

Lilith was on her feet in an instant, her hand on his shoulder.

"Lucifer," she hissed softly but firmly. Her touch and tone were enough to pull him back from the brink. He exhaled shakily, his rage simmering but controlled.

Lilith turned her attention to Sera, her eyes sharp as daggers.

"Adam is hardly disobeying Heaven," she said, her voice cold and biting. "Not when Heaven is the one who hurt him. Or do you see his suffering as some kind of obedience?"

The words sent a ripple of discomfort through the angels gathered around the table. Michael’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mixture of guilt and anger, but it was Sera who answered first, her voice as cold as ice. “It was necessary.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his body trembling with restrained fury. “Necessary? Necessary to destroy an innocent soul? Necessary to turn him into something broken? You’ve turned a blind eye to your own sins, Sera, and now you come here, expecting us to bow to your will?”

Lilith’s hand tightened around Lucifer’s, her calm demeanour like a storm contained. “If Heaven wants a war, you’ll have one. But don’t think for a second that you’ll get it so easily.”

Sera’s expression darkened, and for the first time, Lucifer saw a flicker of something like regret in her eyes. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by cold resolve.

“This meeting was supposed to be civil, Lucifer,” she said, her tone sharp. “But if you want to play this game, fine. We’ll play it.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that matched the fire in his soul.

“I’m done with games, Sera. If Heaven wants to make its move, then let it. But don’t think for a second that we’re going to sit back and let you destroy everything we’ve fought for.”

The room grew heavy with the weight of their words, a silent tension building between the four of them. Lilith’s gaze was steady, unwavering, while Lucifer’s eyes glowed with the promise of a war that Heaven had no idea was coming.

For a moment, it felt as though the very walls of the meeting hall were holding their breath, waiting for the next move.

And then Lucifer spoke, his voice cool and deadly. “So, let’s get this straight. You want to exterminate Hell, erase all the sinners, and wipe everything out? Or is this just about Adam?”

Both Sera and Michael paused for a moment, clearly caught off guard by his directness. Michael’s eyes flickered with a hint of something—doubt?—before he quickly masked it, his jaw tightening.

“It’s about both,” he said carefully, his gaze not quite meeting Lucifer’s. “But don’t pretend you don’t know this is a war you started.”

Lucifer’s smile was all teeth. “I didn’t start it, Michael. Heaven did, the moment it abandoned Adam. And now, you want to finish it?”

The silence in the room grew suffocating, the air thick with the weight of the conversation. Lucifer’s golden eyes blazed with fury, his teeth bared like the predator he had become. Lilith’s cold gaze flicked between the angels, her posture calm yet poised to strike. She barely moved, but the tension around her was palpable.

Lucifer broke the silence with a low growl, his voice dripping with contempt. “I know exactly what you did to Adam in Eden. How you hurt him every time he tried to step out of your precious little line. You were the ones who twisted him. You turned him into something he wasn’t because he had the audacity to question your rules.”

Sera’s eyes flashed, but she said nothing, her lips pressed tightly together in that usual, cold expression. Michael, on the other hand, remained still, his wings flicking ever so slightly behind him in irritation. They knew exactly what he was referring to, but neither one wanted to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

Lilith’s voice was ice-cold, but her words cut like a dagger. “And what purpose did Heaven’s punishment serve? Making Adam change his very nature, forcing him to become a woman... for what? What’s the point of this?”

The question hung in the air, cutting through the tension. Neither Sera nor Michael answered. They couldn’t. They had no good excuse for their cruelty, their manipulation. They simply remained silent, their lips tight, unwilling to confess what they knew to be the truth.

Lucifer, sensing their silence, let out a bitter laugh. “That's right. No answers, just silence. But we both know you can’t justify it.”

Instead of addressing the question, Michael shifted the focus. “Enough. This meeting is about the Extermination plan. The plan Heaven has to rid Hell of its tainted population.”

Lucifer's gaze turned sharp, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Ah, yes, the Extermination. Another 'righteous' purge that Heaven thinks is necessary. But no, Michael, you didn’t come here to talk about that. You came here because you’re scared. You’re terrified of what we’re going to do next. Of what you’ve pushed us to do.”

Lilith’s voice was steady but cool as she responded, “I’m sorry, did you just accuse me of building an army? Maybe you should ask me to my face before making assumptions.”

Michael’s narrowed eyes didn’t leave her, though there was a subtle flash of doubt in them. “I know what you’re doing. I know you’ve been stirring something under the surface, preparing for something more. I won’t let you jeopardize Heaven’s place in this world.”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, arms folding across his chest. “Jeopardize Heaven? Oh, no, Michael. Heaven’s own actions have already jeopardized itself. If you think for one second that your precious celestial realm is safe from what’s coming... well, you’ll learn that lesson soon enough.”

Sera was losing patience now. “What are you talking about, Lucifer?”

Her voice was sharp, her eyes blazing as she stared him down. “What plans are you speaking of?”

Lucifer’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Before? There were no plans. No thoughts of raising a rebellion. We weren’t foolish enough to think we could overthrow Heaven. But that’s changed now.”

He leaned forward, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that would have made the heavens themselves tremble. “Now we have a plan. And it doesn’t matter what you say or do. It’s too late to stop it.”

Michael’s jaw clenched, his fists visibly tightening at his sides. “So, you're threatening us, Lucifer?” His voice had grown cold, almost mocking.

Lucifer let out a harsh laugh. “What’s Heaven going to do, Michael? You’re the ones who hurt Adam. You turned him into something he wasn’t, and now you want him back under your thumb? To use him for whatever twisted purpose you have next?”

Sera’s eyes flashed with anger. “Enough of this. All of this over the first human? You think he’s worth all this disruption? You’ve fallen so far from grace, Lucifer. It’s pathetic.”

That was the spark Lucifer needed. His fury erupted. “Pathetic?”

His voice was a snarl now. “You think I care about Heaven’s rules now? You think I care what you think of me? You took Adam, and you broke him. You abused him, and now you come here acting like you’re in the right?”

Lilith leaned forward, her voice like a blade. “Heaven didn’t just hurt Adam. It used him, like a puppet. You took away his self-worth, bruised him, and made him feel less than what he was. Heaven pushed him until he couldn’t take it anymore. And then you forced him into becoming a woman. You didn’t just strip him of his masculinity, you stripped him of his identity.”

Sera’s face twitched with a flicker of discomfort, but she quickly masked it. Michael, however, clenched his fists, the veins in his hands showing, his eyes narrowing with coldness.

Lilith wasn’t done. “Adam mentioned something interesting. You said you were going to send special Heavenborn angels to Hell, right? Well, you weren’t planning on using him to birth them, were you?”

Both Michael and Sera froze. There was a brief moment of complete silence. Neither spoke, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of Lilith’s words had sunk deep into their minds.

Michael quickly recovered, though there was something strained in his posture.

“That’s none of your concern,” he snapped, brushing it off with a wave of his hand.

Lucifer leaned forward, his voice dripping with anger. “That’s not an answer, Michael. What exactly are you planning? Using Adam to breed your army of Heavenborn angels? Is that your grand plan?”

Michael’s gaze remained cool, his eyes meeting Lucifer’s without flinching. “We demand that you return Adam to his rightful place. Heaven. His place is with us, not here with you.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, the rage in them evident. “You’re really deluded if you think Adam belongs in Heaven anymore. After everything you’ve done to him, you can’t just take him back like a toy. He’s not yours to command anymore, Michael.”

Lilith raised an eyebrow, her voice cutting. “Heaven may have been his birthplace, but Hell is where he’s meant to be now. And you have no right to tear him away from what he’s come to love.”

Lucifer’s gaze didn’t leave Michael’s as he spoke again, the weight of his words heavy. “We’re not just going to sit here and watch as you destroy everything we’ve built. Not this time.”

The tension in the room escalated, the weight of Lucifer’s declaration pressing down on the air like a thick, suffocating fog. The words hung in the space between them, ringing out with the force of a thunderclap. Lucifer’s sharp, predatory grin only widened as he leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous and unyielding certainty.

"Adam will never be returned to Heaven," Lucifer snarled, the power in his voice rippling through the air. "He belongs to Hell now. And there’s nothing you can do about it."

Sera huffed, her expression one of barely contained frustration. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her wings flaring slightly in agitation.

"Hell has no claim to Adam," she spat. "You’re in no position to keep him. He’s still Heaven’s responsibility, and you can’t change that."

Lucifer’s grin widened impossibly more, the sharpness of his teeth sending a chill down the spines of those who dared to meet his gaze.

"That’s where you're wrong," he said, his voice dripping with malicious satisfaction. "I can put a claim on him. I can keep him here in Hell. And I am fully within my rights to bind him to me, if I choose."

Sera's eyes narrowed dangerously, her patience growing thin. "And how exactly do you intend to do that, Lucifer? Please, enlighten me."

Lucifer’s gaze shifted to his brother, Michael, who had been standing silently by Sera’s side, his features cold and unreadable. Lucifer snickered darkly, his voice dripping with derision. "Do you wish to tell her, or shall I?"

Michael’s cold expression didn’t change, but his voice cut through the air with an icy finality.

"He’s right," he said flatly, his tone devoid of any warmth. "He can make a claim, if he so wishes. And he is well within his right to do so."

Sera blinked in confusion, her gaze flickering to Michael in disbelief.

 "What?" she demanded. "How? How can that be?"

Silence fell over the room, heavy and thick, as Sera turned toward Michael, waiting for an explanation. Lucifer’s smug grin never wavered as he enjoyed the chaos he had just unleashed. He was in control now, and he relished in the discomfort it caused the celestial beings in front of him.

Lilith, who had remained eerily calm through the exchange, couldn’t help but allow a sly smirk to curl on her lips. Her eyes gleamed with quiet triumph as she addressed Sera, her voice dripping with superiority.

"Isn’t it obvious?" she asked, her tone cutting through the tension like a blade. "Lucifer and I are bound to Adam, and he is ours. We are his consorts now, and there’s nothing that Heaven can do to change that."

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his expression almost mocking as he turned his attention fully to Sera and Michael.

"We will wed him at noon tomorrow," he continued, his voice a dangerous whisper filled with undeniable authority. "And when we do, you’ll see. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. He belongs to Hell now, and no amount of your petty threats will change that."

The room seemed to grow even colder, and the silence that followed was almost suffocating. Sera’s eyes blazed with fury, but there was a flicker of uncertainty beneath the surface. Michael remained stoic, his eyes locked onto Lucifer with an intensity that matched his brother’s.

Sera's jaw tightened as she struggled to process the full weight of Lucifer’s words. The idea of Adam, the first human, being bound to them in such a way was incomprehensible to her. The sheer audacity of the act, the rebellion against Heaven’s will—it was a violation of everything she had ever known.

She finally spoke, her voice shaking with barely contained rage. "You can’t possibly think this will hold. Heaven will not stand for it. We will not allow you to take him from us."

Lucifer’s grin never faltered, his voice cool and mocking. "You underestimate us, Sera. You underestimate Adam. He’s ours now, and there’s no going back. So enjoy the last few moments you have of thinking you can control him. Because tomorrow, everything changes."

The tension in the air was thick, a crackling energy that threatened to erupt at any moment. But there was a dangerous finality in Lucifer’s words, a certainty that made it clear: this wasn’t a negotiation. It was an ultimatum.

Turning her gaze to Michael, Lilith's voice was low but cutting. "You’ve pushed him too far. You’ve hurt him for too long. This is the price you pay for your cruelty. Adam is with us now, and he will never return to your false paradise."

The silence that followed felt like an eternity, and in that moment, the battle lines were drawn. Heaven and Hell stood at odds, and nothing would be the same again.

The doors to the hall slammed open, the weight of Lucifer and Lilith’s words hanging heavily in the air as the two factions stood on the precipice of war. And at the heart of it all was Adam—no longer a pawn, no longer an angel caught between two realms. Adam was with them now, and nothing, not Heaven nor Hell, would ever take him away again.

[mumms-the-word]

First Confessions

Day 21 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

How could I not write first confessions for ALL my Tavs/Durges?

Each little flash fic below is the first time my Tav/Durge has said "I love you" to their LI. Some confessions happen really early! And some, surprisingly late. I had a fun time trying to think how each Tav/Durge would confess and what the LI's might say or do in that scenario. Hopefully you guys will be enjoy one or two of these as well.

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

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21: Love confession (by any character)

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Dani 

“Gods, I love you.”

It fell out of her mouth in the middle of a laugh, her nose slightly scrunched, her sharp teeth flashing, her eyes misty with mirth. They’d been swapping stories around the fire, telling jokes, sharing funny memories, until at last Gale had sent half of them into fits over a tale about a student at Blackstaff who’d convinced him to play a prank on a much-despised instructor, resulting in a marble bust of the instructor spouting a colorful variety of insults thanks to a well-cast magic mouth spell. 

She said it casually and instinctually, the way she did when she was with her Rovers. Without thought, but also meant with her whole chest. Affectionate and warm and light. It didn’t strike her until a moment later, wiping her eyes, that it was the first time he’d heard her say those words to him. The first time she’d said those words to anyone other than the Rovers. His face had seemed warmer after she said it, but that could have been from his laughter too. If he thought anything of it, it didn’t show on his face.

She couldn’t have known then that it would be the first many I love you’s between the two of them. But even so, in the moment, she wouldn’t have taken it back for the world. He often made her smile, often made her laugh, and she loved him to bits for it. 

So the words came easily. They always came easily, meant with as much affection on that first utterance around the fire, with all her friends as a witness, as they did one thousand reiterations later, when she spoke the words softly into the crook of his neck as they lay together alone in their bed. 

But she had no way of knowing what lay in her future that night around the campfire. That night she said the words with a laugh, bright and affectionate, falling a little bit in love with him but thinking nothing of it. 

She didn’t know, of course, that at the very same moment he was falling a little more in love with her too. It would only be a handful of days before those words returned, murmured softly under a starlit sky, carrying the weight of a different, deeper kind of love. 

But for now, as a far as first confessions go, the words were out there, but her love remained a fledgling little secret, tucked away in the back of her heart to grow over time.

———

Invi

“I love you.”

She whispered it into Astarion’s blood-flecked hair, sinful red on bone white, holding him tightly as he shook under the weight of his world crashing down around him. Cazador was dead just a foot away, the ritual ruined, seven thousand and six spawn alive but with nowhere to go. And one broken, shuddering spawn who was shattering in her arms.

She probably shouldn’t have said it. It was probably the worst thing she could have said. She didn’t even know if he could hear her over the roar of grief and pain in his skull. She could sense it in his body as he pressed his hands into the blood-soaked stone of the ritual platform, his chest heaving with choked sobs. She could sense it in his mind where they were connected by the tadpoles, all barriers gone. His thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, relief mixed with sorrow, anger mixed with frenzied joy, and grief, so much grief. It was too much for his mind alone so his body has responded for him, releasing the energy in a torrent of tears and wailing cries.

Still she held on, embracing him as best she could, grounding him the only way she knew how. She understood what it was to lose control like this. She remembered all too well the night she’d struggled against her bindings, every cell in her body urging her to break free and kill Astarion, while the person inside, the girl known as Invi, screamed in the prison of her mind that she loved him and fought with all her strength to resist. He’d stayed with her the whole night. She could do no less for him now.

Still. Maybe she should have saved the words for later. Maybe they would have been better said in a quiet room where it was just the two of them. Maybe this confession would be another mistake in a long road of mistakes she’d already made. But the words were out there now. And she said them again, pressing a kiss to his hair as he struggled to regain composure. 

I love you. I love you. I love you.

She wanted to say so much more, but she didn’t know how to communicate it. Those were the only words she had, and in the end, those were the words that calmed him.

He didn’t say them back. She didn’t expect him to. She didn’t even know if he had really heard them. But now that the words were out there in the world, she could deny them no longer.

She had wanted to say them the morning she woke up, still bound, and found Astarion safe and well by the smoldering campfire. She had wanted to say them before they entered this room to fight Cazador, just in case she never got the chance to again. Both times she had choked on them, unsure of the timing, or how he would respond, unsure if she even really knew what love felt like.

No more. She said the words now, because they were the only words she could say. Whether he was ready to accept them or not, she had said them, and she refused to take them back.

———

Freyr

“I love you.”

He murmured it softly into Minthara’s ear as they lay together in a shared bed at the Elfsong, the darkness of the room interrupted only by a few sputtering candles. He traced his fingertips lightly across her nightshade skin, slowly up the curve of her spine, following the paths laid out by scars, pausing at old wounds as his fingers brushed against them. She lay against him, cheek on his chest, fingers at the pulse of his neck, dozing lightly. But at his words, she stirred. 

He didn’t know why he said it. He didn’t know what had possessed him. Or perhaps, that itself was the problem. Nothing possessed him. He was free of his dark urges at last.

It was the first night his mind had been quiet, the first he could easily remember. In the dark of the room, with Minthara drifting away into a meditative doze, there was nothing whispering in his mind anymore. The only voice in his head was his own. 

And so, unable to sleep because of the quiet, he had contemplated the woman in his arms. Turned every drifting thought back to her. Admired her beauty, her strength. Replayed the words she had spoken earlier that day, the words she had whispered as she had guided him to lay back on the bed, trying to commit them all the memory now that he had a mind to remember things. And in his contemplations of her, the words had simply fallen from his lips.

She turned her head, resting her chin on his chest, blinking sleepily at him. He waited for her to scoff, tell him love was a weakness, or even ignore his words entirely. But instead she smirked faintly and traced the curve of his lips with pad of her thumb. 

“I know,” she murmured, her voice a gentle rasp. 

Of course she knew. How could she not? He’d been drawn to her from the moment he met her in that ruined temple months ago. He’d devoted himself to her the moment he’d watched her fight. Sworn to protect her when he saved her from Moonrise. Vowed to kill Orin as vengeance for her as much as for himself after hearing how Orin had tormented her. Now with Orin dead and his madness at an end, he saw his actions for what they were, what they had perhaps always been. The actions of a man madly in love.

Yet he didn’t feel any weaker for having said the words. If the dark urge were still a part of him, it would have churned his gut with revulsion. But there was no more dark urge. There was only him and the woman in his arms.

Perhaps he would say it again, another time. Perhaps it would be a phrase that came easily to his lips, and perhaps one day she may even say it back. But for now it was a simple truth that they shared between them. No more need be said. 

———

Ardynn

“Halsin? I love you.”

She said the words as casually as she was able, trying desperately to ignore the pounding of her heart in her chest or the way her hands trembled with fine tremors. They were walking hand-in-hand through the newly cured lands around Reithwin, the air quiet but for the sound of a few intrepid birds that had been among the first to return. She spoke the words into the still air and held her breath, trying not to look as scared as she felt when Halsin turned to look at her.

She must have said it a hundred times in her head before this moment. A fleeting, silly thought when she’d had too much to drink at the tiefling party. A yearning plea when she was in the depths of the shadow cursed lands, clutching a token infused with his nature magic to her chest. A whispered prayer as she lay across from him with the campfire between them. 

When they’d lain together for the first time, under the stars with the river drifting lazily by, when his lips were on her skin and his hands on her body, the words had laced together in a pattern in her mind, locked behind her teeth as she clenched them together and arched her back with pleasure. When she fell asleep in his arms each night since then, it was the last thought she cradled close to her heart before drifting away. When she woke with her body against his and opened her eyes to find him smiling gently down at her, it was the first thought that sprang to her mind. 

She screamed it in her head in the midst of battle, urged the words to form on her tongue in desperate moments where he was hurt or in danger. But she hadn’t said them. She had nearly choked on the words several times, at the Iron Throne, at the Netherbrain, when she had run and jumped into his arms a tenday after the defeat of the brain, having reunited with him in Thaniel’s lands, each time nearly letting them escape only to bite them back in a hurry. These days she felt the words fill her mouth when they were doing nothing of consequence at all, sitting in silence over a meal or contemplating the landscape together. But she had never once said them out loud. 

Because he had never said them, either.

She didn’t doubt his love, of course. He proved it daily with his tender looks, his desire, the very fact that he had stayed by her side in a city that he could barely tolerate and still found time for her as he worked to build a new community for refugees of the smoldering city. She heard it when he called her “my heart” and cradled her face in his warm hand. She tasted it on his lips when he kissed her, felt his love press into her skin when he kissed her forehead. 

He loved her in his own way. In the way that wood elf bear druids who were over three centuries old loved. She was content with that. And she would be content if he never said the words that rang daily in her skull, beating with her heart. She just didn’t know how he would respond if she said the words. 

A part of her worried he would react negatively, withdraw, create space between them to remind her of his nature to roam. But even if he did, it wouldn’t change what she felt. She loved him. Roaming and all. 

So she said them now, trying to sound casual, as though this were part of their every day speech when it very much was not. He turned to looked at her, only the barest hint of surprise on his features, and for a brief moment she regretted ever putting a voice to her thoughts at all. But then he smiled warmly and bent to kiss her, her hand still in his.

“And I love you, my heart,” he said quietly. 

Just as naturally as if he’d said it a hundred times before.

[or13m]

A Reprieve (Undertale) Chapter 004

Your leg just wouldn’t stop moving!

You sat in the booth next to your sibling, your other side occupied by a snoozing Sans, and your leg was bouncing up and down a mile a minute!

“stars, kiddo,” Sans abruptly spoke, breaking you out of the staring contest you were having with the basket of biscuits sitting oh-so-innocently in the center of the table. “you’re baking me nervous. wheat's up?”

His bad puns had your mouth twisting into a smile, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The busy atmosphere in the bar was too intense for you to stay calm and loose, especially without your protective teddy bear. Neither Ash nor Poplar felt comfortable enough to get out amongst these sorts of crowds, so they had remained home. You didn’t either, but Alice had left you no choice. S/n had been dragged along, too, mainly for your benefit, but you had no intentions of leaving them alone in a place you were unfamiliar with. This was not the same establishment that your sibling worked at with their two hotheaded bosses.

It didn’t help matters that it was a Friday night, which meant it was busier than normal.

“People,” you signed back at him, looking around at all of them. The majority were humans, but there were some monsters milling about. The building was nowhere close to full capacity, but it was crowded enough to put you on edge. Thankfully, you and s/n had snagged a corner booth near the barkeep. With the way it was made, it easily sat eight people—human or monster—with an open side that left enough space for three chairs to be pulled up to it. It made for a crowded experience, but it worked...until someone needed to get out of the booth that couldn’t just teleport away...

“Everything’s fine. We’re fine. I’m fine,” s/n spoke in a low voice, but loud enough for you and those close enough to hear. Your good eye glanced over at them to make certain that their words were true. Logically, you knew that you were both safe. If not for the fact that this was a good city with a good track record when it came to low crime rates, then the multiple monster friends surrounding the pair of you was a good start.

Emotionally, on the other hand...

Your head was a mess of horrible scenarios and worse outcomes. You were still in the process of healing and your insides were a mess of bruised bones and organs. If something happened again like the situation from a couple of months ago, then you weren’t sure if your weakened body would be capable of standing between the danger and your precious sibling...

That was not something that you were willing to let your guard down for.

“hey, sweetcheeks, we get what it’s like to be on edge all the time,” Red spoke from the opposite side of Sans as he leaned on the table, a bottle of mustard in his hands. Sans had the ketchup cradled in his arms beside you but was running the phalanges of his free hand along your thigh to calm you down. Red’s scarlet eyes didn’t miss the motion and they narrowed at the skeleton sitting next to him, but he didn’t speak on it.

“We got the drinks!” Alice announced her presence when she pranced her way back to the table with her prizes. Beside her, Edge, Nox, Paps, and Blue—the more-active of the eight skeletons here—had bottles of booze and plenty of glasses balanced in their arms. From behind the group, you could spot the bartender watching with sweat on his brow at the precarious load the guys carried. You couldn’t say that you blamed him, but it did put you at ease to see the concern on the man’s face. It probably meant that damaged property wasn’t a common occurrence in this place. That was a good sign.

Some of your nerves settled at that thought.

“I FIND IT AMUSING THAT YOU LIKE COFFEE-FLAVORED LIQUOR, PET” Nox piped up with a sharp grin on his skull when he set down a whole bottle of Kahlua’s coffee liqueur onto the table in front of you. You turned to s/n and gave them a look.

“What? He asked what you liked, and I told him. Would do you good to loosen up a bit tonight, kiddo,” they taunted with a sly grin of their own.

Your cheeks heated up at the embarrassing nickname they’d given you for your height difference despite being the eldest.

“having a small problem there, kiddo?” Sans snickered beside you, his finger bones stilling on your leg beneath the table. You tried to poke his hand off you, but it wouldn’t budge.

“well, ain’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Stretch chastised in a good-natured way from the booth seat next to Red. His top half laid sprawled on the table, and he looked half-asleep. If it wasn’t for his white eye lights peeking through the cracks of his sockets, you’d have assumed he was.

Your hand started tugging at the bandages over your left eye. Sans’ fingers curled around your wrist much like Ash’s would, stopping your nervous habit in its tracks. You didn’t even acknowledge him when he did so, your good eye staying trained on a group of guys a couple of tables away from you and your group. They weren’t being obvious about it, but you could see the way they kept glancing over every now and then, their eyes flashing with something you knew quite well.

You could feel the danger in the air grow with every second that passed, your muscles tightening every instance you caught their gazes on your sibling, Alice, or yourself. You forced yourself to calm down, however, trying not to stare at the human males. More times than not, that would just encourage them...

“Oh! It’s karaoke night! That sounds fun, right?” Alice squealed, her delighted gaze sweeping over the table of monsters and humans. All eyes drifted to you and you had to wave off the concern, cheeks burning at the unwanted attention. You didn’t mind listening to them sing. Being unable to speak at least got you out of having to go up stage and do it yourself, so this was a perk in your books. “Oh, right...um...”

“Go. Have fun,” you signed at her, Blue and Paps translating for you when she looked confused. Her smile returned and she bounced off to the stage where the crew was setting up the equipment. She was certainly in her element. Your gaze went to the young men you were keeping a watch on, eyeing how they ogled your neighbor as she went. From the corner of your vision, you took note of Blue, Paps, and even Stretch trailing after. You let out a breath of relief, glad that the unsavory men had yet to make a move and that those three had went to accompany the girl. Though you had a feeling Stretch did so to keep close to his older brother.

“Drink and calm down,” s/n ordered from beside you, shoving a glass full of your coffee liquor into your hands. You’d been so engrossed in your survey of your surroundings that you hadn’t even noticed them pouring you a glass. Trying your best to shake off the discomfort, you started to sip at the surprisingly chilled alcohol. How it was cold was beyond you since you could have sworn that the barkeep had all the bottles of his inventory out on display behind him, but you wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. The bite of alcohol in your mouth was evened out by the smooth coffee flavor. You were not a drinker by any means, but your sibling had a point. Taking a night to enjoy yourself was a good idea.

“you going to get up on stage, sweetness?” Rus asked s/n from their other side. They hummed a “nah”, clarifying that they were not interested in singing in public. They continued to talk about random things, Edge and the others interjecting every now and then. You were content to just sit back and savor your drink, relaxing further into the cushioned seat when it became clear that no one was going to approach your table while the guys were here.

“WE WILL SURELY WIN!” Edge announced out of the blue, startling you from your content state.

Perking up in your seat, you watched as he and Nox bickered back and forth about some competition they had abruptly decided on. Their brothers were beside them, both fidgeting in place and sweating bullets but keeping up their guard dog appearances.

“AS IF! WE WILL!” Nox snapped back, the cocky grin slipping onto his face displaying all the confidence in the world.

“What’s going on?” you asked your sibling after getting their attention.

“They’re going to have a karaoke competition, apparently,” s/n explained with an exaggerated roll of the eyes. “There’s some kind of prize with a pasta dish, but I’m not sure?”

“Oooookay...” you mouthed, not sure what was going on but more than willing to sit back and watch this show play out.

You, s/n, and Sans watched as your friends and family each had their turn at the mic. You clapped when you could, s/n cheering from their spot, while Sans waved, clapped, and cheered when his brother took the stage. The alcohol was starting to make you overheated, but Sans was right beside you to prevent you from shrugging off your pullover. He may have caught a flash of skin to realize that you didn’t have any clothing on beneath the hoodie...

“this is nudes to me,” Sans grinned, sweat pouring down his skull which you found fascinating. You weren’t drunk, but you were feeling a little lightheaded. “didn’t realize you were a tease when you drank, kiddo.” His eye lights were large and fuzzy just like this morning, but it looked like they kept shifting as if trying to form different shapes rather than the circles they were now. It reminded you of when Blue’s would slip into those pretty blue stars...

“I’m hot,” you defended, the heat in your cheeks helping clarify that fact. You could’ve sworn you heard him grunt an agreement, but his voice was so soft that you weren’t certain.

“Eep! Hey!” Alice’s voice cut through the normal bustle of the tavern, drawing your attention to where she stood on the complete opposite side of the building. Every skeleton was there with her, but no one seemed to know what was going on if the confused expressions on their skulls were anything to go by.

Sans let out a sigh, giving the hand he still had a hold of a gentle squeeze before telling you he’d be right back. He then popped out of existence, reappearing beside Red who gave a slight jump at his sudden appearance. It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like Alice was chewing out a table of guys sitting beside the stage. To be fair, they also looked very confused and were openly staring at the infuriated young lady. You assumed the wet spot on the front of her skirt which hadn’t been there prior must have something to do with her ire...

Almost the second Sans had left to go see what had happened with Alice and the others, the trio at the table you’d been watching hopped to their feet and started to make their way over.

You were unable to speak or even growl at the men, but you were plenty capable of glaring at them. An uncomfortable warmth sprang into your chest, sparking a raging fire just beneath your ribcage but you didn’t care. Your single working eye narrowed at the obviously drunk youths as they sauntered closer to your booth. The imminent danger presented to your younger sibling had you disregarding the nervous glances coming from the monsters in the establishment in your direction. Your soul burned all the hotter when the drunkards stopped at your table, leaning heavily onto its wooden surface. Whether it was for support or “cool” points, you didn’t know nor did you care. One of your hands had a protective grip on s/n’s wrist while the other was tearing gashes into the pleather of your seat.

“Hey, you.” As he spoke, the stink of beer washed over the two of you, making your sibling crinkle their nose in disgust while you continued to give him a murderous glare. One that he either ignored or was too drunk to even notice. “Me and my buds saw ya two babes over here and we was wonderin’ if ya wanted to join someone who could give ya a real good time.” He smirked, white teeth flashing in the low light of the bar. S/n rolled their eyes while you struggled to not rip his throat out, but it was getting harder to control your instincts, especially with how close he was to your only family. You’d have to crawl over the table to get to him while s/n was right next to the opening that he blocked.

You’ve moved quicker with greater distance than this...

Your muscles tightened further, like a spring ready to snap. Your gaze steady on him rather than his two friends who were giggling like drunk sorority sisters behind him. Your eye darkened when he leaned in closer, his blue eyes flicking between you both but not really seeing how much danger he was putting himself in by doing so.

“Not interested,” was s/n’s short but firm reply. For a moment, the guy looked shocked and confused. Probably not used to being rejected, judging by how “socially-acceptable” his looks were. Then there was a flash of something you were quick to latch onto because you noticed it was a warning sign.

Before anything terrible could happen, Sans, Red, and Rus blipped into existence between you, your sibling, and your new “friends”. Sans had a hold of you since you were suddenly out of the booth and inches away from the idiotic male when he stumbled back. Had Red and Rus not yanked the dude off when they had, he’d have an iron grip on his jugular courtesy of you and your fast reflexes. Your expression was dark and your eye wild. You’d seen that hand of his heading for your sibling’s face...

“whoops. looks like you fell flat with that one, man,” Rus jeered, his expression harder than you’d ever seen it. Red mirrored him, his golden tooth glinting in the dim fluorescents.

By this point, Nox had joined Sans in restraining you. It wasn’t obvious, but you were still quite tense and struggling to regain control of your emotions. The only thing that was stopping you from fighting off your friends and going for the guy’s throat was that he hadn’t managed to touch your younger sibling. The facts that you still had a buzz from the alcohol and was tired to boot helped.

“Y/N?” Blue finally joined the fray, his brother right behind him. While Stretch kept his glare on the three drunk humans who looked ready to throw down for being dragged through the verbal mud by Red and Rus, his older brother kept his focus on you. “Are You Okay?” he asked, his blue eye lights dropping down to your chest before glancing back to your eye. His brow bones creased in concern.

With your bone friends back beside you, you started to feel the heat in your chest ebb away. It did so slowly, but at least it did. Unfortunately, it left behind an ache that you knew wouldn’t be leaving any time soon...

“Sorry,” you sign once you get your hands back, gaze dropping to the floor once the trio of drunks were tossed out of the bar by the barkeep. Guess they were looking for an excuse to get rid of them with how quickly they’d taken care of the situation. Frankly, you were surprised by how friendly the employees and patrons were being to your little group. You’d half expected to get thrown out yourselves since you personally knew how racist some humans could be. Looks like you all managed to find a little diamond in the rough here.

“what do ya gotta apologize for, sweetcheeks?” Red asked, pulling your face up to meet his. “ya didn’t do anything. those assholes should be begging for your forgiveness.”

“i’m with him,” Rus nodded his head at Red, more relaxed now that the threat was out of the vicinity although he remained on alert. You could see both of their eyes scanning the area for any further problems.

“Never Felt An Aura Quite Like That Before,” Nox mumbled beside you, one of his gloved hands petting the top of your head like a dog. Oddly, you didn’t find yourself all that bothered by it. “Especially Coming From A Human.” His eye lights drifted to you. You just gave him a curious look, not sure of what he was going on about.

“Hey, you guys okay?” Alice came rushing over from wherever she had disappeared to. You’d lost track of her with the whole ordeal of those idiots approaching your table. “Something happen? I saw some guys being thrown out when I came out of the bathroom...”

Well, that answers the question of her whereabouts.

“yeah, doll, everything’s just peachy,” Red reassured, hooking an arm around the girl’s neck before heading towards the door. You could smell Alice’s peach schnapps from here. “we should leaf now, though. i’m board to death in this place.”

Everyone else was in silent agreement. Rus would have copied Red’s actions with s/n as his recipient if s/n hadn’t cuddled into your side and grabbed your hand like the little kid they used to be. You could feel their telltale trembles from what had nearly occurred, something that triggered your protective instincts all the more. You lead them out the door, keeping a watchful eye out alongside your skeletal comrades while trying your best to comfort your younger sibling with whatever gestures, hugs, and hand-holding that you could.

The trip home passed in silence. You, s/n, Rus, Edge, Nox, and Red all piled into Edge’s fancy, black car; while Alice, Stretch, Blue, Paps, and Sans went into Paps’ pretty, red convertible. S/n curled into you in the middle of the backseat, Red on your side while Rus was on s/n’s. Nox and Edge sat up front, one or the other glancing back every now and again to make certain the humans were still alive. None of them had seen the younger of the two look so shaken or vulnerable before; and you weren’t sure yourself about the whole ordeal. While you certainly had your demons to deal with, you were more concerned for those of s/n. Clearly, it was time to look up the therapist that they’d insisted that they didn’t need...

You were close to falling asleep by the time the car pulled into your neighbors’ driveway, your fingers pulling through your sibling’s hair in a soothing manner. Red tapped your shoulder, pulling you slightly back. When he saw how easily you followed his movements, he dragged you the rest of the way out his open side. You watched as Rus did the same with s/n who’d fallen asleep due to your ministrations. Instead of feeling that instinctual fear clawing its way out of your chest, you felt a soothing warmth settle there. You curled into Red’s arms when he picked you up in a princess carry. He hadn’t even bothered to let you try to stand and walk on your own.

“they fell asleep?” a voice you recognized but couldn’t put a name to thanks to the haze in your head asked the one who carried you.

“well, s/n did. sweetheart’s still semi-conscious.”

“They Can Stay Overnight, Can’t They?” someone who was usually-loud spoke as softly as they could. You appreciated their attempts.

“heh. yeah, sure... alice already went home, so...”

You stopped listening by this point, your mind drifting in and out of consciousness. Your limbs felt like lead and sleep dragged your thoughts down into its murky depths...

.

.

.

...and yet...

You awoke with a start, your breathing fast and your chest burning. Fear of something clawed at your mind, but you couldn’t remember what it was that you were running from. Your eye flashed here and there in the dark, seeing nothing but blackness pressing in on all sides. Swallowing your panic, you waited, straining your eyelids to make sure they were open. After what felt like an eternity, your vision adjusted to the dark. You could make out the familiar shapes of furniture that you’d find in a bedroom. The problem was: it wasn’t your bedroom...

“hey, kiddo,” a voice you recognized as Sans’ breathed in your ear. You felt your muscles tense before relaxing at his presence. “you can’t sleep, either? wanna join me for an interstellar time?”

You cocked your head at what you guessed was a pun, but you didn’t understand what it was supposed to mean. You just nodded, reaching up to grab his boney hand when he offered it to you. You didn’t even get the chance to ask how he knew that you’d been woken by a nightmare before the darkness of what you assumed was his bedroom fell away.

You suddenly found yourself on the roof, Sans holding your hand tightly. You still had the blanket you’d awoken in wrapped around you, but instead of a mattress, you were sitting on roof shingles. The skeleton settled down beside you as your eye drifted over to what you knew was your house. You could even see the glimmer of moonlight bouncing off the trowel you’d forgotten to put away that afternoon.

“pisces for your thoughts?” he started off with a pun, waving a hand up at the stars despite the constellation he named not being visible at this time of year.

You bit your lip, fingers twitching in his hold when your eye began to itch uncomfortably. You took a calming breath, fighting the urge to pick at your healing wounds. Slipping your hand from his warm bones, you did your best to respond. Being honest about everything would be beneficial for your sibling, if nothing else. Besides, it wasn’t like you’d done yourself any favors at the bar that night...

“Nightmare,” you made the motions with your hands, careful to not make an error.

“sounds sirius,” came Sans’ simple response, though the bone between his eyes creased and the lights in his skull tightened when they gave you their undivided attention. You waited a moment, but when he said no more, you continued.

“You know about the knife?" you signed, motioning to your dead eye. At his nod, you took a deep breath and continued. "It wasn't a kitchen A-C-C-I-D-E-N-T. S/n and I were attacked in an alley for being monster A-L-L-I-E-S. I got these," you pointed at your eye and then passed a hand down your chest, stomach, and hip to the long scar hidden beneath your clothes. "so s/n wouldn't get hurt." The story tumbled out of you. It was probably something that Sans had already guessed had happened, but he just didn't know the details.

“what about your family?” Sans asked but the frown on his face told you that he’d already guessed what your answer would be.

“D-I-S-O-W-N-E-D me,” you signed, a heavy sadness weighing on your heart. It had hit you like a ton of bricks when you’d caught on to the reason why your family and friends hadn’t bothered to visit you in the hospital. The doctors and nurses were friendly enough, but even they hadn’t been too keen on sticking around for longer than necessary to perform their duties. Only the very few monsters that had managed to garner a foothold in that closed-off community had ever shown you any sort of empathy. The officer in charge of your case had been a feline monster. She had been very kind and considerate of your situation. She’d gone so far as to get you in touch with a friend of hers on the other side of the country to help you out. She was the reason why you were even in this city in the first place.

“they cut you out...because you protected your sibling?” Disbelief was thick in his voice. You flinched at the tone but didn’t dare look up. You didn’t want to see whatever expression was on his skull.

“Yes and no.”

It wasn’t that simple. You had defended s/n, yes, but the way you protected them was what caused the fear in your family. Even you didn’t fully understand it, but it was something that wasn’t in line with humanity. That alone was enough to unsettle your rather racist family. While not violent towards the monsters, they did look down upon them. It was not a sentiment either you or your sibling shared. You had both called them out on their prejudices multiple times since the monsters had freed themselves from their underground prison. Unfortunately, it hadn’t changed their behavior and had just created further strain on your relationship.

“They hate you,” you indicated at him to try and get him to understand, unwilling to divulge information that you didn’t understand yourself. It pained you to say it. Tears were gathering in the corners of your eyes—even the dead one—at the admission that you came from such vile people. You hadn’t even realized you were crying until Sans pulled you into his arms and held you close. Your chest ached and you clung to the front of his hoodie, trying to ignore the hurt.

“they hate monsters, and you don’t,” he stated. It wasn’t a question, just a matter of fact, but you nodded against his collarbone anyway. He sighed, his breath fluttering the strands of hair covering your bad eye. “their loss. i happen to think you’re out of this world.”

You gave a silent chuckle at this, which only provoked an onslaught of astrology puns to come tumbling out of his teeth. It didn’t take long before your high-strung emotions had been laughed out and your body was sagging against him.

“stars, kitten,” Sans breathed into your hair when he was certain that you were too far gone to hear his words. “you’re making this harder than it needs to be.” He pulled back just enough to press his teeth against your forehead, nuzzling a skeleton kiss against your soft skin. He then spoke something he’d never thought he’d do again in his lifetime since escaping the Underground...

“i won’t let you get hurt again, kitten...i promise.”

[moreclaypigeons]

Lorem Lore Masterpost (The Infinite Dungeon)

Maybe you've heard of Lorem Ipsum. Or maybe you haven't. Either way, she's heard of you. Probably. Or will at least pretend she has.

So, what's her deal?

A while ago I was struck with the perfect character name- lorem ipsum. It's the pseudo-latin filler text everyone uses in design. How fucking funny would that be? I set the name aside for a while and decided next time I got to play DnD i'd use it.

And then that day came along. @siriwesen announced they were looking for players for a mini campaign, called The Dungeon. They said they would put our characters through hell. Yippee!! The perfect opportunity for my silly guy.

Lorem is a 22 year old human sorcerer. From afar, you wouldn't expect much from her, just your typical adventurer. But there is more to her than it seems! Up close, you could see a faint opalescent shimmer on her skin, the result of spending her formative years traveling between the outer planes. She never really had one place she called home, as she was always on the move, but the closest thing she had was Elysium. That was where she had felt safest, among celestials, phoenixes, and moon dogs alike. As she grew up, the magic of the outer planes imbued her with power, which aside from her powerful spellcasting, can be seen in the shimmer of her skin or the glow of her eyes as she wields that magic.

[ art by @siriwesen ]

Being a messenger between planes was great and all, but she felt lonely and out of touch with her roots. In an attempt to reconnect with her past, she returned to the prime material plane with only the clothes on her back and her trusty messenger bag (which actually carries a lot, to be honest!).

However, things didn't exactly go to plan. She was only there a few days before... well... she can't quite remember what happened.

She wakes up in a cell, in a dungeon. She notices the walls are well lit, despite a lack of any light source. Fucking weird but not the worst she's been in. She takes her ring of miscellaneous keys and opens the cell door. As she walks down the hallway, she's greeted by one of these fuckers. Some bug skull thing. Ick.

[ art by @siriwesen ]

She tried to attack it with sacred flame, no success. Then, from the hallway, she hears footsteps as a pale human man makes his way down, quite afraid. She says fuck it and casts firebolt, which fuck- did not work on that bug. Barely missed the man. He flips her off before running down the hall.

Lorem quickly discovers they are not alone, as she takes out the bug with a spear, then discovers that the hallways lead to other cells. Altogether, there are four people in the dungeon. And the bugs remain defeated. As they try to figure out what the shit is happening, they discover another cell, which is empty, and a paper which alluded to an "author" visiting the realm for inspiration.

The group discovers a staircase, and as they climb them, a white fog clouds their vision, and they find themselves in a different room, with 4 of the bugs waiting for them. They do some badass shit and take them out, with minor hiccups. Lorem aligns with two of the bugs and shoots her firebolt through them, searing them both at one instant.

As those bugs lie dead, the team notices a pile of bones nearby. Recognizing it from the previous floor, they decide they should figure out if it would also turn into a bug.

[ art by @amberflatwoods ]

Which... yeah may not have been the best idea. Youch!

Quail boy did a bit of a dumb but it ended up being alright with a heal from the half-elf. Meanwhile, blondie engages in combat and then runs away, which *dm voice* you're going to provoke an opportunity attack! And he's pretty injured. Lorem casts aura of vitality to give him a heal, and they take down the bug.

But blondie decides that he hasn't had enough yet, and investigates the pile of bricks, which, fuck. is a mimic, hungry for blood. Stabbing it kind of helps, and then the half-elf bard casts thunderwave on it, which Lorem saved for. But, fuck. The other guy is still in range. He's low on health.

[ art by @lexarga ]

He does some more attacking, and.. well.. yet again tries to run. Some people never learn... in an opportunity attack, the mimic mauls him.

Lorem sees this stranger across from her as he bleeds out. She shouts out in protest, watching the pile of bricks descend upon him.

[ art by @amberflatwoods ]

And then everything goes white.

And she's back in her cell again.

Anyways, antics carry out from here. In the second cycle, they finally introduce themselves to each other.

The human(?) rogue is Damien [ played by @abstractbabble ]. The half-elf bard who healed Lorem is Lyr [ played by @lexarga ]. And the avian halfling who shot her in the arm (which healed. only physically...) is named Guthrie [ played by @amberflatwoods ].

They do some more digging, and discover: 1. a few bottles filled with liquor, 2. a rope hanging from the ceiling in the empty cell, which leads up to the second floor.

The second Lorem sees those bottles, she goes, "MOLOTOV COCKTAIL!"

Together, the gang devises a plan, where Damien will climb the rope and cast minor illusion to distract the bugs, and Guthrie will launch the bottle at them as they gather in one spot

[ animation by @amberflatwoods ]

And it's pretty successful... I mean they don't die immediately, but a little fire never hurt. Lorem immediately adds fire to fire, killing the big guy with sacred flame, and shooting another with firebolt. Which, well. Shit. Sets the table on fire. No big.

And here is when we learned Lorem is a fan of arson. My fault, really, for giving her two fire-related spells.

[ art by @siriwesen ]

They do some puzzle shit, get to the next floor, and discover they are on floating platforms in a void that extend repeating infinitely outward. The usual. After some investigating and physics testing (he threw a candle over the gap and it was fine!!!) Damien makes a running jump for it, but he kind of slows down in the air, like he's moving through jello, and Lorem sees as he misses the ledge and plummets downward.

And then everything goes white.

Third time's the charm?

[ art by @amberflatwoods ]

The second floor is tougher this time around. The damn bugs keep respawning. But they have nothing on Lorem, she takes no hits.

Meanwhile, Damien is being crushed by a cabinet and they realize the items don't restock each cycle. After defeating the enemies for realsies, the four of them sit around a table and rest with some wine.

They talk about whether they'd reunite after they escape, and Lorem assures them she'd be able to find them. One way or another. Guthrie gives her a feather just in case. She says, "my dog will find you," which sounds threatening but moon dogs are not scary.

This time they successfully make it past the third floor, through a series of bridge-forming puzzles. There's a fifth platform set that seems to activate on its own, but uhhhh let's just ignore that for now guys.

They end up in a village, which is pretty obviously fake. There are characters all around it (!!! other people !!!!) but after approaching them all, they discover they are NPCs. WHEN WILL IT END?

Lorem tries to exploit the infinite fish glitch, which doesn't work. Whatever, lame. They head to the next floor.

CUE BOSS BATTLE MUSIC

They find themselves in an enclosed rundown castle, with an atrium. Floating above a tree is a GIANT monster bug skull. Holy shit. Fear for my life. Lorem finds out fire doesnt work on it (RUDE), needs a heal from Lyr, and Damien rushes up the stairs.

Where he is.. promptly killed by taking one hit after the other. Yikes dude

You know the drill.

The next time they reach that floor, they're smarter about it. They have a lot more HP, and do more heals. Guthrie hides behind the left staircase, while Damien goes up it. Lorem leads Lyr up the right staircase, as Lyr casts vicious mockery. Cornered between two skull bugs, Lorem casts spirit guardians, and a swarm of winged spirits in shifting colors swirl around her. They completely desecrate the bugs.

Lyr moves forward, and the spirits part like the curtain of a waterfall as she makes her way closer to the enemy. As Lorem follows, taking cover beside a tree, the spirits follow her in a 15 foot radius, but they're moving slower.

Through the spirits, Lorem sees as Damien approaches the giant from behind. As he casts color spray, a paint-like substance splatters everywhere in the direction of the bug, and from his balm glows a brilliant a blinding light.

[ art by @siriwesen ]

As the light dims, in the spot where Damien once stood, is a giant white figure. It's long, and cylindrical, and has 6 legs. And it is staring down at the bug with an eyeless grin.

[ art by @amberflatwoods ]

Aaaand that's where we last left off a few days ago. Pretty exciting!

I love this campaign so much and I love our little adventuring crew and all the Situations (tm) they get themselves into.

[witches-and-weirdos]

Nillan Seil

“Ignorance and bigotry are the banes of peace.“

[[This art was made by @equleart]]

Briefly

Nillan Seil is a female human necromancer

She is a Death Shepherd, a wandering holy woman of the goddess of undeath. Her divine role is the creation, protection, nurturing and guidance of the undead, so that they may prosper.

Due to the widespread distrust and fear of necromancy and undeath, she typically passes between the common folk as an ordinary nobody, and is quite cautious about who to trust and to what extent with her true nature

Age: 28

Height: 173 cm (5′8)

Visual Identifiers (Nillan): Looks perfectly ordinary, pale greyish-blue eyes, short black hair, almost always appears very calm

Visual Identifiers (Shepherd): Skull-painted face, a bone chest-piece molded from a human ribcage, white cloak, partially painted hair

Main Goals/Motivations: - Help make unlife better - Minimize conflicts between normal people and the undead - Follow her goddess' guidance

16 personality types test: not done yet

Alignment: True Neutral

Shipping: Nillan is bisexual, she isn't currently looking for anyone, but she isn't outright rejecting the idea either

Playlist

Trivia

Nillan carries a shortsword "for self defense", though her magic is much more effective

She likes hiking, staying up way too long and just enjoying peace and silence.

Her skin is usually a bit cold to the touch, quite enough to notice and to maybe worry a bit, and it is fairly difficult to make her look anything but calm

Nillan's body is slowly transitioning from living to undead, though she is very much alive for now, the truly perceptive might notice that a few things are off about her.

Her goddess is Ginerva, The Grave Queen, in most places she is considered a Dark God, and thus knowledge about her is limited and her worship is forbidden

[This was made by Stepan Alekseev]

Verses

Multiverse

Fantasy: This is probably already home territory for her. If necromancy is more accepted in the setting, she might be a bit more open about it.

Sci-fi: Probably no need to change anything here either, as long as the supernatural exists, though she probably also has a handgun here

League of Legends

Noxian, from the rural edge of the empire

Focuses mostly on neutral, "natural-born" undead, rather than the ones from the Shadow Isles or the Noxian revenant troops

Warhammer 40k

Ginerva is a Greater Demon of Nurgle here, joyously focused on creating various different types of undeath, rather than the more "common plagues"

As such, Nillan is a wandering Chaos Sorcerer with high psychic potential

Dead by Daylight (no recurrent memory erasure)

Killer

"This is not the afterlife I expected..."

Ingame Power: At Totems or anywhere after hooking a Survivor, she can raise Skeletons that harmlessly follow her. She can make Skeletons break breakable objects. or dangerously guard a small area. Skeletons can be destroyed with a holy Survivor item, but this notifies her, and they self destruct shortly if too far from her. Mostly a chase power to deny certain paths and loops from survivors, but also serves as a short term mid range info power.

Usual Playstyle: "Good guy killer", careful in chases, kills the guy pointing out your location, noobs get it a bit more easy

Stories

None yet

“Unlife is a difficult blessing. I am here to help you with the difficult part, and to see beyond it.“

[iviarellereads]

Nona the Ninth, Chapter 31

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(Ninth House icon) In which you can't take loved away.

The truck lands somewhere in the Ninth. Nona feels "an insistent tugging" at her top, middle, and bottom thoughts all at once. She wants something, but knows not what. Pyrrha picks Nona up again, and she's grateful, as she doesn't know how she had the strength to walk or drive. Kiriona declares it "Home, sweet home."(1)

Paul asks Kiriona where they are, and she names the precise part of the shuttle field. Paul congratulates Nona on the landing, to which Nona says drearily that she "didn't do it on purpose." Pyrrha says maybe not even John could land so precisely after that journey, and asks what the hell that was in the River.(2)

Kiriona takes a few steps into the darkness and draws her sword. Nobody else hears anything, so Kiriona says she's going ahead alone, and they can keep up or probably die. Paul has a short discussion with some of the people still on the truck, which Nona can't quite hear as she goes fuzzy, and then Paul comes back and they and Pyrrha take off after Kiriona.

Nona is sleepy, but dares not sleep, and feels that twinging need in her spine. Paul and Pyrrha aren't talking to her or each other, just walking in the silence. Nona remembers that Pyrrha would once have been joking with her and is sad. Their only exchange is about the darkness, and how Anastasia could have made fairy lights shaped like skulls, even if she thought "the skull was the least interesting bone".

Eventually, it gets lighter, and they come to a round room with dark walls, with Kiriona standing in the middle, her sword red and wet, and several dead bodies around her. One man, the oldest man Nona's ever seen, is still breathing but surrounded by blood, and his face looks like it's trying to escape its skeleton.(3) He looks at Nona and remarks that she (assuming she's Harrow) has come home to them.

Paul leans in to examine him, and he protests, and Kiriona suggests leaving him alone, but Paul says they can save him. Kiriona kicks over one of the corpses, and suggests Paul look at it, and trust her.

Beneath the light of the powerful lamp, the dead person’s face was startling. The eyelids hung slack, and there were rows of dark purple pinpricks above and below them—like something fine and sharp had come through. Hanging out of the eyelids—Nona at first did not know what she was looking at—was a shrivelled object, wet and red, like a slug. Like a muscle. The tongue hanging out of the mouth was a lot longer than a normal tongue—and pointed, triangular, deep blue in death. For some reason, the sight started a shudder at Nona’s feet that carried on all the way up to the top of her head. The awful pain tightened in her chest, and nearly shuddered her out of her body. The back of her neck itched so badly it felt as though it were bleeding.

Pyrrha cusses, and Nona starts to chastise her, but then says no, Pyrrha can say what she likes at this point. Kiriona says they shouldn't be here, they've been confined to Antioch,(4) or so "he" said.(5) Paul says their memory is split, and asks Kiriona where they've seen this before. Kiriona reminds them: Colum Asht's possession in Canaan House. John calls them "devils", but he said they couldn't travel.

Paul asks why he can't heal the man, and Kiriona explains that the devils have revenant magic to take over bodies. The old man taunts Kiriona about daring to come back looking like she does.

Nona tells Pyrrha she can feel more of them outside. Pyrrha tells Kiriona they have to get moving further on, and when Kiriona doesn't start moving, Pyrrha asks if she got that Cohort uniform from a dress-up box or if it means anything to her. Kiriona is pissed, but sheathes her sword and helps with opening the cage of the elevator to put the man in, then get in themselves. Nona feels bad for keeping Pyrrha from helping, by needing to be carried.

They get the elevator going, with Crux coming along. Kiriona asks where Aiglamene is, and Crux says, as good as dead, she went on ahead to the monument. Pyrrha distracts Kiriona from her reaction to the news by asking about the devils. They started coming about four months ago, on Antioch.

Then Pyrrha asks Crux how long they've been on the Ninth. He says a night and a day or so but he's only answering because Pyrrha carries Harrow('s body). At least two hundred of the residents have been converted. Paul asks if they can be cured, but Kiriona says it's "spirit shit", you can ward against it but you can only disable and burn the bodies of the afflicted.

The elevator stops moving, and they get out into a room full of machines.

The dying old man rasped: “We barricaded behind the Anastasian. Sister Canace and Deacon Davith were left here. Why have they abrogated their duty?” “Holy shit, Sister Canace is still alive?” said Kiriona, startled. “She used to oversee me on oss duty. If you’re using Sister Canace as a last line of defence, how bad off are w—you?”(6)

Crux and Kiriona snark about Sister Canace's loyalty and dysfunctional knees, but Pyrrha observes that this area ought to hold out.

This seemed to fox Crux. “Who are you, foreigner, that you know the mysteries of the Anastasian?” “I was here before it was the Anastasian,” said Pyrrha absently. “Painted a nursery. Mint green.(7) Look, if your watchers aren’t here they’ve pulled back behind whatever bailey you’ve set up. Let’s keep moving. How are we going to move…?”

Paul picks up Crux easily, despite Camilla's lithe frame, standing the old marshal up. Pyrrha suggests Kiriona take point, and she'll take the rear, at which Nona laughs. Crux stares at Nona for this, and then his face closes up, and Nona notices that Kiriona also looked at her laughing with an expression even Nona couldn't translate.(8) Pyrrha said Nona can't be doing too badly if she laughs at an ass joke.

Nona did not want to tell her that something terrible was going on in her body and had been ever since the period where her heart and her arm had hurt. She snuggled down into the halo of Pyrrha’s arms for warmth—she was starting to feel blue all over—and the zip fastener of Pyrrha’s jacket caught her arm and scratched her. She stared mildly at the rough red graze and the little square flaps of skin that had risen off her arm.(9)

They continue down the tunnel, until huge white bars of fresh bone block the way, and there are people in Ninth facepaint and robes. Kiriona asks where Aiglamene is, and she emerges, the "most asymmetrical person" Nona's ever seen. The bars open to let her through. They discuss for a bit, but then Aiglamene notices Nona, and declares the Ninth welcomes back the Reverend Daughter, and everyone in robes go to their knees. Nona is embarrassed, and horrified to realize it's for her.

Aiglamene rises and banters a bit with Kiriona, then takes another look at Nona. Kiriona clarifies that it's not Harrow, just her body, as Nona cringes back into Pyrrha's arms.

Pyrrha says they need to get to the rock. Aiglamene is unmoved, but Pyrrha says they "have a Lyctor's rights". Aiglamene's face lights up with something adjacent to hope, and Pyrrha puts her at ease asking about her service, until Aiglamene asks if they can be saved. Pyrrha says, maybe, if they can make it to the rock.

Aiglamene suggests they take Nona in and get her a heater. Pyrrha says Nona doesn't get cold, but then realizes that she has, in fact, got cold. Nona doesn't have time to protest that she doesn't feel cold before they go into the room. Pyrrha lays her down near a glowing heater, and starts warming her hands, then notices the cut on Nona's arm and asks when she got it. Pyrrha calls Paul over, and they check Nona's vitals as Crux looks at her again.

“Lady,” he said, in a much softer creak, “you’ve gone away again, my lady; where have you run? Remember your catechism and your lesson, and remember them well now: this is where you come back to—you have your little escape. You’ll feel better for coming back … you remember that, Harrowhark.” Nona whispered, “I’m sorry—I’m not Harrowhark.” “Ay, and you’ve said that before,” said the old man. “Who are you this time, if not my Lady Harrowhark?”(10) [...] “There’s a box,” she said, “and … there’s someone in the box who isn’t me. I’m me. I don’t know who’s in that box, not really, only—when you open it—I’ll be gone, because I can’t survive … knowing. And I think—inside that box—there’s something that looks like a girl…”

Paul gives an update: her healing mechanism has obviously stopped, and her body is collapsing. They asks Nona how she feels, and she says, fine, but the body is not. Paul suggests this is an "ecstatic seizure" and she's not healing, but not worsening either right now. They just have to get her soul back in… Pyrrha suggests "Now" but Paul says better five minutes ago.

Nona reaches out and takes Paul's wrist, looks up into their face, and says the more she (Nona) remembers, the more it will hurt her (Harrow). Paul says not to talk, not to stress herself.

“I might not help you when … I’m back,” she said, not quite understanding I. “I’ll be different. I’ll remember everything … I’ll remember the thing I’m trying to forget. And Palamedes—I won’t love him. I won’t love Camilla, or Pyrrha, or Hot Sauce, or even Noodle. I won’t love anything … I won’t know how. I won’t be me at all, or … I’ll be the me who knows the thing, and knowing the thing means I’m not Nona—I’m someone else.”

Paul tries to warm Nona, and tells her not to worry. Nona says she's just explained why she's worried, and that matters.(11)

“Camilla and Palamedes were loved by Nona,” said Paul. “Pyrrha was loved by Nona. It’s finished, it’s done. You can’t take loved away.(12) We loved you too. Palamedes and Camilla loved you.” Pyrrha was there too, floating into view above Nona’s head, in the darkness. Her mouth was set in that unmistakable need-a-cigarette shape. “Don’t worry, kiddie,” she said tiredly. “I’ll keep loving you—my problem is I don’t know how to stop. And, you know … who you are … were … you’re capable of more than you think, right now. I liked you. He liked you—Gideon liked you. My necromancer and I always liked you … and hey, what’s like except a love that hasn’t been invited indoors?”

Pyrrha ruffles Nona's hair and Nona's borrowed heart thumps, but she complains that she never got her six-month birthday party or any gifts. Pyrrha says of course she got Nona a birthday present. It's a t-shirt, a good one, still back in the sink cabinet. Nona asks her to describe it exactly, and Pyrrha says, well, she hadn't cleared it with Cam or Pal, but it had a mustache on it, and… it's inappropriate to finish describing. Nona needs to know what it said.

“It advertised cheap moustache rides,” said Pyrrha. “We’re talking low prices.” Nona started to cry softly, overwhelmed. Paul said, “Palamedes wouldn’t have let her wear that outside the house.” Then: “Camilla wouldn’t have let her wear it inside, either.” “Yeah, but what about you?” said Pyrrha. “Her choice,” said Paul. “I think moustache rides should be free.”(13) “It would have been my favourite present except for the handkerchief,” said Nona breathlessly. “I’m going to go back and fetch it. I’ll remember. I’ll make myself remember. And I’ll wear it all the time, inside the house and outside the house, and then you’ll know it’s really me. I’m not going to be gone forever … I’m ready. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

=====

(1) The bittersweet return of the last children of the Ninth. (2) I assume she's talking about the Tower. I wonder if everyone sees it a little differently. (3) Anyone have a good guess what this means? Could be a simple reference to skeletons trying to escape their bodies but twisted around, but it feels more specific than that. (4) Antioch isn't just from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It was another real ancient city. The BOE aren't the only ones naming things with references. (5) Presumably, John lied to her, or something's outside his control amounting to the same. (6) Old habits. Kiriona grew up here, this was the only life and loyalty she knew until it all fell apart. I can't imagine the jumble of feelings she might be feeling in these moments, and it's frustrating as a reader (though, dramatically effective, I think) for Muir to not give us this return from her point of view. We spent two books there, it'd be greedy to want more, and yet. (7) Whose nursery did Pyrrha paint, here of all places? (8) Kiriona hasn't heard Harrow laugh very often. Once in GtN, once when she laughed in Harrow's body in HtN, and now. It must seem a very strange sound. (9) The death is coming harder. Harrow's body longs so much for its own soul, it's starting to not even be able to use Nona-Alecto's superhealing. (10) Recall that Harrow struggled with identity even before losing part of her memory. True, the reveal of this was in that strange chapter in HtN where she recalled her childhood, and how attentive and indulgent Crux was, never invalidating her perception of reality. If you read the acknowledgements on Harrow, I believe, it's made all but clear that Harrow has lived with some sort of mental illness, much as Muir herself, though with no antipsychotics to mitigate the effects. (11) Feelings always matter, and Nona is so used to being treated like a child and probably quite sick of it as she lays dying. (12) And it's true. You can choose to act and react and go forward however you like, but you can't take away that you loved or were loved by somebody. (13) I think I like this Paul pal. Also, moustache rides are another meme in the fandom, LOTS of art of Nona and Alecto wearing this tee.

[floralscented]

( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤTHREE !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART THREE. half - past five !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMINORS DNI!! includes, fictional locations. fictional bandmates. weed mentions ( brief ). semi-public fingering. finger sucking. praise if u squint & minor degradation if u don't. jensen is wearing rings (that's it that's the whole warning and it's necessary). reminder that this is a slowburn!!

parts will get longer, probably, as relationship develops.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 3.6k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤㅤA/N. me calling it a slowburn vs them getting raunchy in chap 3 i am A LIARRRR. I STILL SAY IT'S A SLOWBURN ... IT'S NOT ALL SUNSHINE N RAINBOWS ... also what did i say huh. parts wld get longer! almost double last one! i got carried away aftercare!jensen is jus really sexy ok leave me alone.

mirrored glass shakes against the dance studio’s walls, making your reflection warble along with it. one of the mirrors is significantly looser where it’s pressed to the wall, and you just wait for it to fall, because it wants to, doesn’t it? why doesn’t it just give in? 

there’s some pent up frustration in you. clearly. the person —  well, the main one contributing to the literal and metaphorical walls in your life starting to crumble — responsible is just thirty or so steps away. and, of course you’d know that exactly, wouldn’t you? 

you’ve been pacing since you showed up. first outside of the building, when you saw the sunset blvd sign hung up and alight in one of the dingy windows of the venue. it was like a physical sign, really, that jensen was there to stay. much to your chagrin. 

even the instructor at the studio, lindsey, had something to say about your fidgeting. you’d gotten out of class early that day, and what better way to relieve your stress than to go over routines you knew in your sleep? 

except you couldn’t. at least one step in every song you tried to practice, you stumbled on, and with each song you tried again and again, you messed up more, like giving the thought of your failures any attention was exactly what they wanted to burrow in your bones. 

that’s when lindsey, who’d been cleaning off the mirrors in preparation for her upcoming class, said something. “laurel hit you with a hard routine?” 

“no,” you snap without meaning to, guilt washing itself over you the moment the words leave your mouth. she was innocent in your little problems. “just— thinking too much.” 

“i’d argue that the point of dancing is to stop you from thinking.” 

and she was so right that you could have cried. it was infuriating, knowing your problems and what was causing them, and being completely incapable of doing something to stop them. 

you didn’t answer her; nothing productive would come from this conversation when you were too in your head to see outside of your thick skull. instead, you snatched up your phone and clicked play on the sleeping beauty track you’d been working on. 

“why are the mirrors so loose?” lindsey asked, then, incredulity laced in her words, and that was what started your pacing. 

you’d take fifteen of the thirty seven steps from the inside of destiny dance to sunset blvd, and turn back. rinse, repeat. sometimes more than fifteen. most times less. it was so stupid, wanting to pick this fight, knowing it wouldn’t go anywhere. 

but you were at your wit’s end. and maybe, just maybe, you’d started to miss those piercing green eyes that watched you from outside of the venue next door while you practiced. 

masochism is a hell of a thing. 

you don’t even know what caused the breaking point to hit you, but it did, probably an hour into your relentless back and forth with yourself. and suddenly, you were pushing open the glass doors to sunset blvd.

for once, it’s dead silent. but you know that they’re all here, all four members of whatever-the-hell band, whatever-the-hell their names were. the parking lot had four cars in it.

it’s easier like this — empty stage, empty seats — to stomp your aggravated little ass up to the side of the stage. there’s a couple of steep steps leading up to the stage, and your steps echo on the hollow wood of each. 

your hand closes around the tall, dusty curtain leading backstage, when someone else shoves it back fiercely with all of the confidence of someone who thinks they’re alone. 

you jump, but the person screams. a high, piercing scream that echoes around the ( admittedly pretty good ) acoustics of the room.

it’s a guy — lanky and tall with long hair to his shoulders. he holds a hand over his chest, knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping onto the ripped band t-shirt he wears. metallica. at least you’d heard of that one. 

“jesus christ,” he wheezes out, and you can’t help the way your eyes drop to the blunt in his fingers at his side. surely smoking weed wasn’t good for him. 

you keep that to yourself, though. you did just scare the life out of him, after all. “where is everyone?” 

he blinks a couple of times, and you visibly watch his eyes focus on your face. recognition flares in his deep brown eyes. “our local little dancer, here to grace us again.” 

you roll your eyes. “i have a name—” 

“yeah, yeah, but you never asked for mine, so i’m sure as shit not asking for yours.” he raises the blunt to his parted lips, sucking in a deep inhale. he says, around the exhale of smoke he releases, “reggie, by the way.” 

oh. this was reggie. the little pissant that tried to blow your eardrums when you first showed up here. last time you saw him, you didn’t pay much attention to him. 

you still weren’t going to, unfortunately for him and the way his mouth opens to keep talking to you. 

“guess we’re even.”

reggie grimaces and at least has the decency to look apologetic. you take a step forward to pull the curtain back again and step backstage when he speaks again.

“noa’s in the ladies room. steven’s in the men’s, with—” 

jensen. god, what the hell was wrong with you? there was no reason for your heart to stutter at the sheer thought of him. 

this was your problem, after all — the one buried beneath the ones that you tried to claim as your problems instead: you wanted to see him. he hadn’t been outside consistently, not even when you were leaving. there were a couple of days in that week where you didn’t see him, only knew he was there at all by the number of cars in the back parking lot. 

you say a quick thank you before you finally do step underneath the lifted edge of the heavy curtain, a puff of dust clouding in your lungs the moment you let go of it. 

you break into a ticklish cough as it coats your tongue and the inside of your mouth, too focused on trying to catch your breath again to pay attention to where you’re walking. 

“what, you take a hit of reggie’s blunt but not mine?” he says, his voice still as deep as you remember, smile just as chastising. “didn’t know you were into scrawny guys. never stood a chance, did i?” 

then, and only then, do you manage to shoot a glare up at him. and of course, jensen is smirking, dimples embedded in his cheeks, eyes practically glimmering with the taunt. 

no— they were really glimmering. the green was so much more pronounced today, with the whites of his eyes stained pink. oh, hell. 

“it’s dust.” 

jensen whistles lowly under his breath, leaning back in a mock gesture of surrender, before he settles back fully on his feet. “yyyeeah, reggie’s shit is shit.” 

“no—” your face flushes, both with a twinge of embarrassment and irritation. “i mean, it’s literally— like, it’s literally dust. this place is covered in dust.” 

jensen laughs, loudly and heartily, and it makes your toes curl in your pointe shoes. you really were a wreck; reduced to rubble by this man whose sole purpose, it seemed, was to get on your last nerves.

“s’what happens in abandoned places, princess,” he says slowly and drawn out, like he was talking to a toddler. you bristle at it, nose twitching, and that only makes him laugh a bit harder. “oh, come on. thought we were friends now.” 

your mouth closes, then opens, and closes all over again. friends. you certainly weren’t aware of when that happened, especially since— 

“you haven’t been outside in three days.” god, could your voice sound any smaller? your face flames with embarrassment, not having wanted that to be the thing you say to him in response, but what could you do now? 

jensen’s smile softens. softens! as if you could feel any less mortified. “my pretty princess is missing me, is she?” 

“oh, go to—” 

“hell?” he finishes, eyebrows shooting up as the word leaves his mouth. “only if you come on down with me.” 

you can’t even bristle again before he’s crowding your space. one step forward from him, and two steps back from you. it’s not a very wide hallway, though, and before you knew it, you were trapped.

trapped in the cage of his strong arms, back to the brick wall. this close, you can see the swirls of ink adorning his skin, black wisps of fire and symbols that you don’t know. his hands come up to properly cage you in; palms flat on the wall by your head. 

“you want to, don’t you?” he murmurs, his gaze dropped to your lips. everywhere his eyes land, your skin burns. he’s fire, and you’re ice, and you’re completely molten, melted at his feet. “c’mon, princess,” he says just as softly, “tell me what you want.” 

the words to leave are right there on your tongue. they’re right there, heavy and palpable, and yet they don’t leave the confines of your closed lips. 

jensen’s smile widens, becoming more devilish than sweet. his breath reeks of alcohol and weed this close, but there’s the faintest underlining of mint. your senses are turned up too high to handle this properly — and he can tell. “oh, i see,” his voice is so deep and rough that it makes your skin tremble, “my pretty girl wants me to show her, does she?” 

no, you try to say, but it’s stuck just like the rest of your protests, right there behind your teeth. if only you had the strength to lift your arms and tug your jaw open, to force the words out, because suddenly your head is nodding. 

“good girl,” he says, and one of his hands slips from the wall to your chin, index and thumb holding it between his fingers as he tilts it up to meet your eyes. “but i’m sure you’re used to hearing that, aren’t you?” 

his voice is soft and rough at once, like he’s sharing painful secrets right in her ear. his tone, though, is full of a venom that you don’t want to think about. shame is already so thick on your skin that it feels like paint; the last thing you want is to let his chastising words get to you just as much as your desire for him. 

“pretty,” jensen continues as his hand slips lower, running over the thin fabric of your leotard. it’s innocent at first, the backs of his fingers running down your shoulder. still, it lights you up as if he’d just kissed you. “good. innocent.” 

his hand slips further down, his ring-adorned knuckles tracing over your breasts. they peak beneath that little brush of a touch, nipples aching against the skin-tight of the leotard. 

“i was sure that even good girls get tired of being good,” he mumbles, his face inching closer to yours, nose to nose. “but then i met you, and you just can’t help it, can you? that incessant need to be good?”

jensen’s head drops into the crook of your neck, his facial hair on your sensitive skin making your breath hitch. his laugh is breathless in your ear, against your shoulder, as he presses his lips on the space above your collarbone. 

and his hand keeps moving. it outlines a straight line down the center of your breasts, down your sternum, and stops just below your navel. 

“or maybe…” he trails off, his other hand dropping from the wall and grasping at your skirt, tugging it up in one quick movement. it draws a shuddering gasp from your parted, dry lips, another thing that makes him chuckle. “maybe you do it because you like it. is that it, princess?” 

you can’t even bring yourself to answer him. your skin feels hot and alive, like electricity dances through your veins. livewires sparking beneath the surface of your skin. 

your hands, though, reach for the leather flaps of the jacket on his shoulders. you need something to touch to keep you from slipping too far into the abyss of this. 

his fingertips brush across the thin strap of fabric covering your throbbing, sensitive pussy, the heat in your lower stomach burning and crackling and tight. you can feel the edges of his fingertips grazing the edge of the inseam of the leotard. “yeah, i thought that was it,” he rasps, another of those breathless laughs pressing into your collarbone, “of course the good girl likes to be told she’s a good girl.” 

one of his hands still holds the edge of your skirt up, and the other sweeps the thin fabric away, letting cool air dance across your exposed, slick cunt. 

your mouth finally finds the words it wants to say, and they stumble out in a quick succession, an unintelligible sentence. “jensen— there… people—” 

“reg is off his ass,” he mutters, his mouth still grazing and nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbone, “steven’s in the fuckin’ bathroom doin’ lines still, and noa’s probably in the bathroom doin’ him.” 

his eyes flick up to meet yours, the green now just a thin ring around the deep intensity of his pupils. “no people around, pretty princess,” he assures, his lips curling into that teasing smile of his — though now, it’s much softer. 

you barely get a chance to acknowledge any of his words before his calloused thumb slips between the slick folds of your pussy. you stutter out a gasp as the electricity of his touch travels your lower stomach and up, up, up, sending your heartrate fluttering quicker.

jensen massages the sensitive, swollen nub of your clit, his eyes locked onto yours, gauging your reaction to his painstakingly slow circles. his teeth hold his bottom lip captive between them. somehow, his eyes look even more blown now that your gazes are locked. 

you try, you do, and it’s an honorable effort, to keep any sound from slipping out of your lips in response to the tantalizing grazes of his hand between your legs. but a muffled whimper starts low in your throat and shudders out, and it’s enough to encourage him to keep going. 

“little louder, baby, i can’t hear you,” he whispers with his nose pressed against yours. he uncurls his fingers, letting you feel every brush of his fingertips as they drag across the expanse of your spread pussy. “i know it feels good, baby, can feel how fucking wet you are.” 

it’s cruel, the way he can touch you like this and say such things about it, while you’re completely spread out for him and at his mercy. “fuck you,” you seethe through your teeth, though it holds none of the malice you wish it did — instead coming out like a whimpering whine. 

“uh uh, not yet,” he laughs breathlessly across your face, and his long middle finger stops at the dip of your entrance, traces the wetness dripping from it, smears it further up your spread pussy. “you’re not ready for that yet, pretty girl. and i wanna make you feel good. don’t you want it to feel good? when you do get to have me?” 

he talks to you like you’re something innocent, something he’s more than happy to break and ruin. chastising and seductive all in the same breath. jensen doesn’t even give you the time to answer before he pushes that same finger inside of you. 

he’s wearing a ring. you didn’t even see the ring when you were talking to him — admittedly, you were only looking at his swollen lips, darkened eyes, sweaty hair hanging just below his ears. but you felt it now; his already thick finger stretches you out, and the ring adds to it the moment he’s deep enough inside of you. 

it’s a shockwave of pleasure all at once. you don’t even try to stifle the moan this time, your head falling forward to knock against his. “there she is,” he praises, his voice much deeper and raspier than it was moments before. “i knew you had it in you.” 

that’s when he starts to move. it’s still only that one finger pushed to the hilt of his hand inside of you, but the ring scrapes the edges of your walls with every thrust he pushes it into you. the pace is slow, deep, like he was making love to you with nothing but his hand. 

of course he wasn’t, though. jensen didn’t seem like the type to make love, and the point is proven when his fingers curl, and stars erupt in your vision. 

“god,” you choke on the word, gasping and panting on his face, your breaths mingling with how close you are. 

jensen grins. he’s always fucking grinning, like he knows exactly the effect he has on the people he touches. “mmm, close, but not my name.” 

“go — to hell.” 

he pumps his finger in and out of your soaked pussy, so hard that the sound of each wet movement punctuates each moan you loosen. “told you already,” he grunts, pulling his ringed finger out of you just enough to where you can only feel the tip of it teasing your stretched entrance. “not without you.” 

there’s never any warning with him, never any indication of what he’s going to do before he’s already knuckles deep into it. and he adds a second finger, another ring adorning it, and pumps the both of his fingers deep into your pussy. 

it’s too much all at once. the feeling of his fingers curling inside of you like quotation marks to each of his thrusts, the fact that there were three people scattered around the rest of the small building, potentially seconds from walking out into the hall and seeing the debauchery he was inflicting on you— 

you hook your leg up and curl it around his waist, giving him a better angle to keep fingerfucking you, and for you to be able to take him deeper, harder, faster—

the invitation isn’t lost on jensen, either. the hand that’d been holding your skirt up releases it and hooks under your thigh to keep it held there. “look at you,” he grunts between his clenched teeth, “bein’ so fucking good for me.” 

your throat feels raw from the effort of trying to keep your voice down, trying to keep every single noise clamped behind the barriers of your tight lips. and it’s too much. and you can’t even really think straight, not with the cool metal rings so tantalizing on your inner walls, with his thick fingers so deep you can feel the tips teasing your cervix. 

your lips part on a shuddering moan, finally uncaging the desperate, guttural sounds that’d been building since he started to touch you. the tightness in your lower stomach coils, tighter and tighter; a snake capturing its prey, a girl clenching tightly around the fingers that thrust into her. 

for once, jensen is dead silent, and you really wish he’d talk, even if it was just to continue teasing you, because all you can hear in this hallway is the gushing sound of his fingers in you and your crescendoing moans, and—

your head falls back against the brick wall behind it, the thud hardly registering in your mind as your leg tightens around his waist, as his fingers keep up there relentless pace, as you pulse around his knuckles and against his palm in tune to your heartbeat.

it’s overwhelming, how fast you fall apart right there in his hands. “fuck— jensen—” your body goes still and taut for a second before it goes completely boneless, your face burying in the smoky smelling leather of his jacket. even as your pussy throbs around him, even as you’re still so sensitive that your body is practically trembling, he doesn’t relent. 

not for another ten or so seconds. and you do count, because it starts to feel like a punishment instead of for pleasure, even as you grind your hips down to take him deeper. 

his fingers slip out of you, wet and glistening with your juices. his eyes are somehow more glazed than they were, still rimmed red and glimmery. “open up, princess,” he rasps, the smile on his face more lazy than the smirk he wore earlier. 

who are you to deny him anything right now? you barely know your name, your legs numb, your heart racing from the comedown. 

“good girl,” he praises lowly once your lips pop open again. jensen pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, pushing down on your tongue to push your mouth open wider. 

tasting yourself around the salty smoke flavor of his fingers is almost enough to make your legs buckle. his eyes watch you intently, glancing between your eyes and your mouth. 

and maybe you are sick of being good. maybe he was right all along, with every word you deemed chastising and prodding. it only takes a blink for you to close your lips around his fingers and swirl your tongue around them in your mouth, around the rings. 

“goddamn,” he chuckles, breathless and exhaling. “maybe you are more fun than you let on.” 

you didn’t know, then, that this was the worst possible thing either of you could do. because now, you knew he’d let you in when you came around, and now he knew how easy you were to break.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFEEDBACK & REBLOGS APPRECIATED!! < 3

tags! @happyladyduck, @casatoan, @mo0nwalker, @manicjk, @stereotypicalbarbie, @inpraise0fbacchus, @fitxgrld !

[titanicfreija]

Sunny wasn't sure what she was looking for, but she hoped she would know when she found it.

Freija's corpse had been out here alone, mostly buried by the sand blown into the narrow inlet where she died the first time. She was lying on her back between a cave wall and a massive stone. Her arm was broken. So was one hand and every rib along with a flail chest break, indicating pre-Freija had been crushed. Skull was intact, teeth were not, which was odd, but could have been a lot of things.

The ghost suffered a pang of resent that she spent over eight hundred years looking for someone that hadn't been born yet. Nine hundred for someone that wasn't dead.

Actually, maybe. Her age was impossible to tell.

I would have spent nine hundred years looking no matter what. If I didn't start until she died, I'd never find her. Most guardians found in the last five hundred years probably died post-collapse.

Still.

Sunny scanned the area for signs or traces of the person that once carried the image of her guardian. Sunny remembered her being softer at the time, the smile was shy and awkward. A robe over a plain shirt and trousers looked more Warlock than Titan until it tore on one side. Decidedly civilian Awoken and probably an older fashion. There was a helmet with a visor, but that could have been for riding a sparrow, which did come naturally to Freija...

Pieces of the shattered helmet remained, even after the few years since Freija's rising. Sunny scanned the ground, checking density deeper and deeper until she found what she hoped was every last fragment.

Scanning and putting them together didn't show any symbols that might have been painted on, but it was about fifty years old and was associated with militia groups in the Reef. It didn't belong to the body of civilian, unarmed pre-Freija.

Sunny was saddened to recognize the murder. She fought back hard and lost.

Sunny hoped for a fall. A sparrow accident. She couldn't be certain, maybe it was stolen or came from a different incident in the same spot...?

She discovered a long coat buried the same depth as the helmet. The buttons were also old, and these did have a family crest carved into the front. She didn't have enough data about the Awoken and their history and bloodlines to know whose the crest was, but an information network was only a few steps away.

She wondered if Freija would dig it up as she scanned the area for pockets of density. She found a few stray, unspent bullets but nothing else. No bones, so no other corpses.

Freija clambered up, knowing this place from their trips for Sunny's Found-My-Guardian Day, and she stood on the dirt path without saying anything, rocking side to side and chewing on her tongue.

As much as Sunny knew she wouldn't like the idea, she didn't expect the stiffness in her guardian. "Kay, I was short about it because I feel like it's stupid that I feel this way, but at the same time, I'm gonna actually throw up the first time someone calls me the wrong name and looks hurt when I'm confused. I don't want it."

Sunny hovered to meet Freija's eyes and blinked. "You really feel that way?"

Freija reeled away, taking several steps before she spun to face Sunny again. "Can you imagine? What if I had children? They call me Mom? Even adults? They get to see me stare at them like I've never seen them before in my life because I haven't. I might even recognize someone as looking like me and at best I'll have that sense where I fucking swear I can almost remember it and I can't. Or I won't, and they won't even bother me like that, I'll just be confused and sorry."

Sunny could imagine. "If I--"

"If you contact them, they'll know you're mine and they'll want to see me. And they'll even think they're ready to see me not know them."

"Did you hear a horror story?" Sunny asked, wondering where that came from.

"Yes."

Even under the helmet, Sunny could imagine the firm scowl. She wanted to argue but she hadn't heard any stories that weren't horror. "Then I won't ask anyone. I'll just see if I can find any identity indicators and look you up in written accounts."

Freija settled on her feet but set her spine and shoulders. "Okay." She hesitated and looked under Sunny to see the big rock and narrow space between it and the wall. "Did you want me to dig up... my.... Well, I'm using my bones. I dropped those clothes on the shore as soon as I found some real armor." She looked around awkwardly and swung her arms again. "I don't remember what that was, either. I remember I had those thin boots, fancy indoor stuff with the busted soles, I hated those."

"You also had a robe, a shirt, and trousers. I remember what they look like, but I don't think you're interested, are you?"

"Nope." Freija put her hands on her hips and leveled her chin with her ghost. "I really, really do not want to know."

"I believe there are scraps of coat and buttons about five inches down," Sunny sighed, hoping to move to business.

"Anything that looked like an ID? Anything to aim for or avoid?"

"A block of soft organic material near the buttons may have carried personal belongings, a purse or card carry. Approximately here." Sunny pointed a light at the ground.

"If we actually find anything, I'm not gonna help anymore," the guardian lied.

~

Another dramatic miniseries

Sarah's Death (long)

Curious (medium)

Search (long) <- you are here

Uncover (medium)

Insisting (medium)

Learn (medium)

Move on (long)

Every Second (short)

[respondedinkind]

Khan's gaze lingers on her green eyes for a second longer, even after she offers him a truly personal piece of her own; He can sense part of her emotions, and they are similar to how he feels in return - her cheeks are tinted pink, like his own ears must have a close appearance to glowing hot metal.

Perhaps that's why they just remain silent for a heartbeat, with Vega still holding out her piece of art for Khan to take, who continues to hesitate in probably the worst way possible. His gaze flicks to the paper, and him not immediately reaching for it isn't made of negativity, even if it may come across as such - the sentiment, the intensity of it, simply struck him unprepared; He swallows, idly so, and it takes a considerable amount of force for him to finally move his hand and take the art from between her fingers with his own.

The paper's texture can be felt beneath his fingerpads, and Khan makes sure he's only touching the empty space, places where she hasn't used the pencil on - handling it with such gentleness that he might as well be holding a butterfly's wing, as if the gift he's just received is the most precious, brittle thing that could evaporate into dust if he only dared to breathe too harshly.

Drawn Khan, the one made of shades of grey, looks back up at him - his gaze is fierce, but calm at the same time, his eyes conveying something that his outer exterior does not. Despite him only having been created out of graphite, he carries a weight with him - and the real Khan, made of flesh and bones, can see how much emphasis Vega has put into his expression, the way he presents himself.

That's how she sees you, a thought provides within the shape of his skull. That's how you are seen from the eyes of others - but most importantly: Hers.

She's not only seeing Khan, but also Ka'anh - without her even knowing.

Minutes must have passed at this point, he's vaguely aware of it, and yet he hasn't spoken ever since having taken the art from her hands; He's never received something like this, has never seen someone put so much effort into something that regards him in any way. It hits harder than he expected - not only the sketch of himself that stares back up at him, but also the knowledge that she, Vega, has sat down a while ago, created this... and sang her song while doing so.

Hello, darling.

These might be the lyrics of whatever melody happened within her head, but...

Finally, Khan blinks. His nostrils flare as he inhales, then he forces himself to exhale more slowly, measured, obviously calming his nerves in the most discreet way possible. He almost cradles her art, not holding it too close but his fingers are treating the paper like it's delicate, and it takes about twenty more seconds before he is finally able to lift his head and look back at her features once more.

"---You did this.", he says, albeit knowing it must sound incredibly stupid for a fraction of a moment; He allows a heartbeat to pass, but then continues to speak with his voice quiet, low, soft.

"You... made this sketch. You drew me." Usually I only paint galaxies and constellations. Celestial things. Her words echo inside his mind. Celestial beings. It's almost ironic, the fact that Khan isn't human - and how she doesn't know, yet here she is, saying things that could be taken differently if the context of his heritage were known.

Besides all of those thoughts, Khan is aware of the fact that he should thank her; He's just received a gift, after all. A present. Something that has been made by steady hands and gentle fingers. It's just... hard, somehow. Khan never really received something like this, has never been the subject of having things being gifted to him. He blinks because of that, a moment of him losing control, accompanied by his gaze flicking to the side, then to the painting, back up to her. Unusual, as he's known to be able to hold his gaze with confidence.

Emotions. They're hard to contain.

Thank you. "---This is remarkable.", is what Khan says instead, jaw working as his molars grind together. His back straightens, ever so slightly, in an effort of him regaining previously lost control over his own appearance. "You're... very talented."

It takes her a moment to discern his demeanor, the usual cool tempered, ever precise way he carries himself stuttering. It's new, something she is unaccustomed to, and if Vega didn't know better, she'd have considered him nervous. That doesn't seem right-- she's only been singing to herself, and while that is not oft a trait befitting of a war queen, it isn't so dangerous, is it?

The way his gaze fixates behind her, then back again, the way he looks at her, as if...

--Oh, fuck.

Blanching, Vega straightens, forcing herself to look away from him, to a far corner of the room that is suddenly quite interesting. Chewing on the bottom of her lip, she wonders what to say, if words might suffice. They often do not. Hunted never yet ensnared twice, with a rabbit heart thrumming in her chest so loud it deafens. First in melody, then in artistry, the ways in which she is so achingly vulnerable.

She is tempted to run.

Instead, an inhalation that flares her nostrils, the only visible symptom of her embarrassment aside from the slight flush of pink that rises to her cheeks. A very human response, she notes bitterly, so preoccupied in her own swell of diffidence that she hardly notices his. Eyes flecked in jade meet his once again, her attention recentered.

"You haven't."

The pencil is still in her hand, threaded and unthreaded between fingers as an unconscious habit. Spine straightens before she leans back into the chair, maintaining a neutral expression despite the blush that plagues her. "Too much downtime is bad for me."

Sometimes-- when it allows her thoughts to run wild, the ghosts in her head to surface. Silence is not an ally. Sketching and humming are pastimes she speaks very little of, if ever, though they certainly allow her a reprieve.

Vega reaches behind her, taking the drawing, hesitates before offering it to him.

"For you. It's not done-- I don't have my paints here. But it's... something."

Screaming it to a crowd would be far simpler, announcing to the entirety of the galaxy that she only draws pretty things, stardust and nebulas and things that speak the language of her heart.

"Usually I only paint galaxies and constellations. Celestial things. I hope it's... okay."

[lubdubsworld]

The Devil’s own.

Jungkook x OC

Mafia Au!

Warnings : Non-Con ! Manipulation, Degradation, Shitty hero with no redeeming Qualities you have been warned. ( i mean he does get better but not much.)

Summary : Just Mob Boss Jungkook doing mob boss things.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed there , staring at the ceiling and trying to come to terms with what had just happened. It was revolting. It was nauseating. It made me want to claw my own skin off. I stared at the intricate designs , carved into the ceiling, the panels that reflected life and made the room seem bigger than it was. The scent of jasmine and rosemary clung to the sheets and the drapes in the room, cloyingly sweet and meant to arouse the occupants.

I wondered how I’d got here.

I had memories of satin silk sheets and bright lights. My father had always spoiled me, the best of the best only for his only daughter and I’d indulged in luxury to my heart’s content. More shoes than I could possibly wear in a life time. Every season’s collection, straight into my wardrobe whether I asked for it or not. Diamonds and rubies and emeralds set in platinum and gold , jewelry to match my clothes and even my car if I felt like it.

I shut my eyes in despair. I didn’t miss the luxury as much as I missed the solitude. The option to just not do anything. My father hadn’t cared enough to see what I was upto and everyone knew that I was betrothed to Jungkook.

And that meant no dates or party invites because after the third guy got his arm in a sling after accidentally brushing past me , word kind of spread.  Stay away from Elena Gong or the Jeon kid will break your bones.

I shuddered. It had been an obsession, I thought vacantly.

Jungkook had been obsessed, even back then. I just hadn’t paid much heed to him. Because Jungkook back then had been terrifying but also ridiculously endearing in some way. He had seemed for lack of a better word…..insignificant. I was beautiful and rich, never lacked for attention and he was just one among the dozens. Even if I was betrothed to him, I hadn’t given much thought to him.

And Jungkook had taken my indifference in stride. He’d laughed and played around and I hated to admit it, treated me like a queen. Flowers, chocolates and gifts every other day . He would follow me around like a puppy , and I wondered if perhaps my dismissive attitude towards him back then had been a mistake. Did it push him over the edge?

My heart ached fiercely and when I finally willed myself to move, my body protested.

Every inch of me was sore and aching. My head because of how hard he’d gripped my hair. I sat up on shaky legs, fingers trembling as I pulled my shit up to stare at my body. Bite marks littered my skin, marring the smooth surface and I felt bile in my throat at the memory of his teeth on me.  Finger shaped bruises were beginning to bloom around my thighs and I couldn’t breathe over the agony ripping up my insides.

I glanced down between my thighs, at the sticky mess of his release dripping down into the sheets, staining the sheets a murky pink. I shuddered, disgusted. God, I hated him. Where was my phone? My clothes were still there at the foot of the bed and I noticed the small door on the right wall. Crawling off the bed on shaky legs , I limped carefully to the bathroom.

I took Hoseok’s shirt off dropping it in the corner before turning the showers on.

The water felt like a whip on my skin as I sat on the tiled bathroom floor , a small washcloth gripped tight in my hand as I carefully cleaned myself up. I had no idea what the time was… It must be very early or very late. No matter. I had to get out of here and get to Jisoo. I swallowed, imagining her alone all this time. The doctors had said she would be up in Guilt churned as I quickly grabbed a towel from the closet and wiped myself down.

It took me another ten minutes to finish dressing up and just as I finished slipping into my shoes, the door opened.  I glanced up, catching sight of Hoseok as he leaned against the door. He looked a little haggard, a black silk shirt unbuttoned to his chest and tucked into fitted jeans. I stared at him, watching the way his gaze roved over every inch of exposed skin, looking just a tad bit worried.

“The Hospital called. “ He said gently, “ They’re ready to release you sister. They want to know if you can come pick her up. The baby’s going to have to stay in the NICU for a couple of weeks.”

I groaned. Great. More bills.

“I need a job. “ I said miserably. “ Help me out.” I stared at him beseechingly and Hoseok gave me a look.

“you know the kind of jobs I provide. You’re not built for it. “ He said shortly and I shook my head, impatient.

“that’s not what I meant and you know it. You and your friends pretty much own every club in the city. Get me a job ….” I whispered, moving to stand in front of him and he recoiled.

Just as always, I thought bitterly. Coward.

As much as a coward now as he’d been ten years ago, when he’d pretended that he didn’t have any feelings for me. Pretended that he didn’t give a damn about me.

The throb in my skull grew in intensity.

My throat was dry and I felt my vision swim a bit. I was tired. Exhausted . I hadn’t slept in….how long really? I hadn’t eaten in a day…for sure… And I likely wasn’t going to be eating for a long while, let alone feeding Jisoo if I didn’t get a job right away. I had twelve thousand won to my name and that was it.

“Jungkook-“ He began but I was sick of his name so I growled.

“Fuck, do you want me to beg Hoseok? I will… I can’t … I need a job… Please.” I said desperately, staring at him and his gaze softened.

“Elena, stop looking at me like that, fuck.” He swore, turning and punching the wall hard. “ fuck.”

“Just help me get a job. I’m not asking you to give me money or something.  You don’t even have to get it for me… Just tell me who’s hiring ? Somewhere away from Jungkook and his men.” I whispered , and the sheer irony of it didn’t escape me. Jung Hoseok was possibly one of Jungkook’s main men.

He ran his hand over his forehead, shaking his head.

“You’re going to get me killed someday.” He muttered, “ Fine. There’s a club down in Itaewon. It caters to cops and lawyers exclusively so Jungkook and his men usually keep out of it. My friend owns the place. His name is Im Jaebum.  I’ll get you a job there , waitressing. Is that alright?” He said softly and I wanted to sob in relief as I nodded. Itaewon meant pretty close to where the bakery was. I could take the bus.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him and call you. Here…” He held out a wad of cash and I took it greedily, eyes widening at the 100,000 written on the margin of each note. This was a lot of money.

“Hoseok…”I said stunned and he shrugged. “ Get food and baby stuff for Jisoo. If she’s going to feed the baby she needs to eat well. Fruits and veggies and lot of protein. If you run out, tell Jaebum you need some advance. He’ll pay you well.”

I nodded, stuffing the money into my pockets quickly . I swallowed when my insides throbbed, aching something fierce.

“Thank you.” I said softly, staring up at him and he hesitated, before reaching out and gently cupping my face in his palm. I flinched at his touch and he recoiled.

“Was he… Did he hurt you?” He whispered quietly and I smiled bitterly.

“Wasn’t that the whole point?” I sighed, shaking my head . I hesitated . I wasn’t sure if Hoseok would listen to me but I had to try at least.

“ Can you not tell him? That… That I was a virgin?” I asked quietly and he nodded.

“Wasn’t planning to.” He said casually.

I stared at him. I’d always found him handsome. Beautiful. Perfect . And I wondered where we had gone so wrong.

“Do you regret it.” I whispered. “ All those choices you made.”

“Which ones? …” he asked bitterly.

“you know… “ I snapped. “ the ones that lead us here. You and me…. Standing here like strangers. “

“I wouldn’t risk my life for a stranger. Which is what I’m doing every time I help you .” He said quietly.

“So what are we then?” I demanded.

“Old friends” He said casually.

I snorted.

“Fucking coward.” I whispered , loud enough for him to hear as I brushed past him and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I trudged all the way to the VIP room in the hospital flinching because that was probably a lot of money to be repaid , now owed directly to the devil spawn that was Jeon. I had grabbed a small meal on the way before quickly getting the bus to the Hospital. It was little past eleven in the morning and the hallways were packed with people. Sighing, I moved to the room where Jisoo was, slowly opening the door.

Min Yoongi sat on the chair next to the bed, gazing idly at my sister in law.

To say that I was shocked would be the biggest understatement of the century. My lips parted in shock, panic bubbling up inside me as I exhaled sharply.

“What-“ I swallowed gazing between him and my Jisoo, who was sitting up against the backrest on the bed, a tray of food on her lap and a small smile on her face.

“Lena!! You’re here!” She cried out softly, tears filling her eyes at once as she held both her hands up. I moved to hug her but my mind stayed on the man near the bed, his sultry feline eyes trained unblinkingly on her. I wrapped my arms around her, trying to get my breathing to regulate but it was impossible.

What on earth was Yoongi doing here?

“Mr. Min came to see me. He told me he knew Daehwan.” Jisoo said softly, looking sad but hopeful and I felt my heart turn over as I turned to stare at him.

Min Yoongi knew Daehwan as a target . A hit he had carried out himself.

But I couldn’t say a thing. Not in front of Jisoo.

“I’m only here to offer my help. It pains me to see you suffering, Jisoo. I know your husband would want you to be taken care of.” He said softly, his gaze still fixed on her and I didn’t like it. At all.

Bile rising, I gave him a glare.

“I’ll take care of her. Please don’t trouble yourself.” I said shakily and he glanced at me, lips parting a bit, turning into a smirk.

“You look… well rested.” He smirked and I flushed.

“Lena, come on… I know all this…this must be expensive. We can use all the help we can get and Mr. Min-“

“Please call me Yoongi, sweetheart.” Yoongi said charmingly and my sister in law blushed. I felt my skin crawl.

“Y-Yoongi said he has a spare room. I can’t stay in the bakery.  And it’s not like he’s a murderer or anything. He showed me his card. He’s a lawyer.” She said softly and I sighed in despair. Jisoo was naïve bordering on stupid and I wasn’t equipped to deal with this.

As I watched she went back to the food, eating ravenously and I felt my heart clench. I could see the twin damp spots at her chest and I noticed the breast pump on the table. It looked brand new. I hadn’t even thought about things she may need after the baby, too preoccupied with all the hospital bills and medicines I would have to pay for.

Diapers. Baby wipes. Those little flannel pieces mothers used to wipe down the baby. I felt my head spin, turning to Yoongi who was staring at me casually.

“Can we talk?” I said quietly and he straightened.

“Jisoo ssi… Please enjoy your meal. And here…” He gave her his phone. “ If you’re done, just give me a buzz on this.” He showed her something on the phone .” Go on try it.”

Jisoo pressed down on the screen curiously and Yoongi’s watch rang .

He grinned as she smiled.

“See? One touch and I’ll be here yeah?” He said softly, and I felt like I was stuck in some kind of drama, glancing between the pair of them.

“Are you leaving?” She asked curiously and he shook his head.

“I’ll be right here, outside. Having a word with Elena. You can finish your food and I’m guessing it’s time for you to pump again? The pediatrician said you’d have to pump every two hours with the milk so… if you get it ready, I’ll drop it off at the NICU.” He said calmly.

Jisoo nodded, staring at him with wide eyed gratefulness and I sighed in despair.

Yoongi moved to the door and I gave her a small smile before following him.

I waited till the door had closed behind me before turning to him, furious.

“What do you think you’re-“

“I want her.” He said shortly.

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

“No.” I hissed, furious and helpless with rage. “ Yoongi-“

“Don’t make me put a bullet in your head for this, Elena.” He said calmly and I exhaled shakily.

“She’s… You know she’s not like us. She doesn’t know anything about this life. As far as she knows my brother was a surgeon who got killed in a hit and run. You want to …. What do you really want? Did Jungkook put you upto this?”

“If Jungkook would have his way, your sister in law and your new nephew would both be dead. You know this.” Yoongi said casually. God, could I ever have a conversation with anyone without Jungkook being dragged into it? When did my life get twined so intimately with him?

“Where is he?” I asked quickly and Yoongi shrugged.

“He’s out of the country. He left an hour ago.”

“Switzerland….” I said before thinking and Yoongi stiffened.

“How did you know?” He demanded and I froze.

“I… I overheard …..someone.” I muttered and Yoongi moved so fast I barely caught it. The next second I was pressed up against the wall, his forearm pressing into my throat and holding me down while he held a knife right against my jugular.

“Nice try. Now the truth.” He hissed.

“Ouch..” I choked out , coughing  a bit. “ Fine.. Hoseok.. Hoseok told me.”

Yoongi pulled back.

“You fukcing him?” He asked casually and I glared at him.

“none of your business.” I snapped.

He laughed at that.

“I know you aren’t. Hoseok loves his dick too much to risk having it castrated.”

I sighed, shaking my head. I wasn’t here to talk about these bastards.

“Just leave Jisoo alone.” I said quietly and Yoongi sighed.

“What are you going to do with her, Elena. You can barely afford to feed yourself. You should be thankful I’m taking her off your hands.”

I ignored his nonsense and moved till I was pressed up against him, fingers curling into his chest. Yoongi looked surprised, lips twisting in displeasure when I blinked up at him.

“please.. Yoongi…” I begged, “ Don’t do this to me.” I said quietly. “ I … she’s all I have… She… My brother had nothing to do with any of this. You know that….He left this life decades ago. I don’t… I don’t know why Jungkook wanted him dead in the first place. I loved my brother and my brother loved his wife. I owe it to him … Please…just…Please leave her alone.” I whispered softly, letting my fingers drop to grip his arm.  

He tugged his arm away at once.

“ She needs more than empty platitudes and good intentions. She needs food and a place to stay with her baby. I’m giving her that.”

“And what do you get in return?” I demanded angrily. “ She just gave birth, fuck you. You can’t touch her , not unless you’ve lost the last shreds of humanity in that conscience of yours.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m not doing this for sex, Elena. If I wanted easy pussy, I would have come to you…” He smirked.  “ Don’t forget that Jungkook and I share our toys, yeah?”

I opened my mouth to retort before remembering that I was trying to get him to listen to him.

“Then why? What do you want…tell me?”

“I told you. I want her. As she is.” Yoongi shrugged.

“You killed her husband.” I said , voice shaking as I remembered what Jungkook had said. About my brother begging for his life because Jisoo was pregnant. And how Yoongi hadn’t given a shit and shot him anyway.

“A minor inconvenience. Trust me if I’d seen her before I killed him…” He sighed, shaking his head in regret and I frowned.

“You would have spared him? “ I asked bitterly and Yoongi laughed.

“No.. I would have killed him sooner.” He smirked. “ Is there a point to this whole conversation… I’m getting bored and Jisoo’s waiting inside.”

“We’re supposed to get her out of the hospital today and-“

“I’m taking her home.” He said briskly. “ I’ve already spoken to her. And She’s agreed that a ramshackle , dilapidated bakery isn’t the right place for a new mother and a tiny baby.”

And the worst part was that I couldn’t even disagree.

And I couldn’t help but feel angry, betrayed. Jisoo was…. How could she? She hadn’t even bothered to talk to me about it… Just agreeing to move in with Yoongi. She was older than me. Supposed to be the smart one. My body ached. If that was the bed she was going to make , she could lie on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Going somewhere?” Jungkook’s voice made me freeze.

I swallowed, straightening and stepping back almost instinctively. He stood in the doorway, a cigarette held between his teeth as he stared at me . He looked like he’d showered as well, hair still damp and the smells of citrus and mint permeating the air around him.

It was exactly ten days since I’d last seen him and I’d settled into a routine of sorts. Im Jaebum’s bar, Venom was an exclusive club in Itaewon and I could easily disappear into the shadows, staying low and using the beret ( a part of the uniform ) to keep my face hidden as I served the patrons. Like Hoseok had said, the place was filled with cops and lawyers. Yoongi was a frequent fixture here , stopping for just a drink on most days before heading home to my sister in law.

It made me sick but there was nothing I could do about it. Jisoo and little baby Yunsu were both home and needed a l,ot of care. And Yoongi apparently had a cook, a housekeeper and a nanny who helped her out. Jisoo was wary, her senses finally returning but she was also clearly glad to be out of the streets.

“I’m going home after I finish my shift. “ I said softly, trying not to stare as he stepped into the room. I turned away from him moving to the shelves and pushing the small canister in place.

“Where’s home?” He asked casually. I flinched when he stepped right behind me, fingers reaching out to curl on my shoulder, pulling me back till I was flush against his chest. The heat of his body seeped in through the thin fabric of my blouse and I felt my body heat up.

“You got what you wanted.” I said shakily. “ Let me go.” I whispered, dropping the cleaning cloth in the tray on the lower shelves, before moving to grab the mop. I just had to finish mopping the floor . And then I could leave.

But his grip on me stayed firm. I couldn’t move. Foreboding rose inside me.

Jungkook hummed at that, stepping closer, till I felt his chin brush the top of my head as he bent over me, arms coming around me  and fingers lightly unbuttoning the first two buttons of my  shirt. I stared at the dark ink on his forearm. , swallowing as he kept coming closer.

“What I wanted? That pathetic little display ten days ago?”  He whispered softly “ Just think about this Elena ……  I’ve been chasing you for years, I got rid of your entire family and yet I let you live. Why do you think that was, huh? “ He shook his head, “ For two minutes of you lying underneath me like a frigid bitch? You think that’s what I want Elena? Think I’ll be satisfied with that? ” He laughed.

I stared at the wall in front of me  and I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t play this sick game with him. Not when he kept changing the rules . Not when there was nothing left for me to gamble or lose.

“Jisoo. I have to go see her. Just… Just let me go see her. I need to see if she’s alright and then we can talk. ” I whispered. Jungkook smiled, tilting my  head to the side with his fingers. I felt the damp press of his lips against my jaw and my skin crawled.

“Don’t worry, Yoongi’s taking care of her.” He whispered softly and I felt my heart turn over in my chest at the reminder. I’d been forced to relent because Yoongi had taken her home to a fully finished and decorated nursery , a closet full of baby clothes for her son and nursing clothes for her. She had been bowled over and when I’d told her to think about the why of it…she’d given me a helpless sort of smile. . As far as she was concerned , Yoongi had been nothing but generous and kind… And she wasn’t going to say no to him because she couldn’t afford to..

“I… he promised me he’d let me see her. And the baby…every day. That was the deal.”

Jungkook laughed.

“I thought I made this clear . You don’t get to make deals with anyone because you belong to me. I get to decide what happens to you. Anytime. Anywhere. Do you need another demonstration , Elena?” His hand moved to my breast, groping the flesh, fingers rough and hard and I whimpered in pain.

“No..” I choked out , eyes widening in terror and he made quick work of the rest of the buttons on my blouse. Junkook hummed, kissing the back of my neck and slowly turning me around in his arms.

“Relax. You don’t have a job. How are you going to feed her and the kid? Yoongi isn’t like me. He doesn’t hold a lot of grudges. And for some reason he seems to have a hard on for your sister in law. He wants to marry her. ” He chuckled and I felt nausea bloom.

“No.. Don’t… Don’t do that to her. She’s not like us. She doesn’t know… She doesn’t have anything to do with this life.” I begged, heart racing at the thought of Jisoo, helpless and scared and alone with a baby , trapped with a fucking assassin. Yoongi killed for a living . That was his job. Jisoo was delicate and sensitive.

“She still needs to eat and live right? With what?  He’s feeling particularly generous so he’s taken her home . You don’t have to worry about them anymore… Isn’t that nice?” he smirked and I felt my throat go dry.

I clenched my fists, feeling my breath catch.

“The only person you need to worry about yourself is yourself. Isn’t that how you prefer it anyway? Beautiful selfish Elena who never gave a fuck about anyone but herself. Isn’t that who you truly are, angel?” He smiled.

“Not anyone…. Just you… I don’t give a fuck about you.” I said defiantly, staring right up at him.  

Jungkook stared at me and stepped closer, reaching out and running his fingers up and down my cheek. I flinched because he still held the lit cigarette.

“None at all?”  He asked curiously, lightly tapping on the end of the cigarette, and I flinched when the hot ash spilled onto my shoulder.

“Did that hurt, baby?” He whispered, leaning in and pressing the cigarette to my lips.” I’m sorry. Breathe in for me.” He stuck the cigarette into my mouth and I pulled away , coughing and disgusted.

I closed my eyes as his free hand went to my wrist, tugging me closer. I stiffened as he wrapped his arms around me, drawing me in till my face pressed against his chest, his body flush against mine, one hand moving back to stroke my back.

“I missed you. You’re terrible at pleasing me but I think…with a little bit of training, you can make me cum… ” He smirked. “ Let’s start with a blowjob, yeah?”

I stiffened.

“No.” I said softly and he smirked, pulling back.

“No?” He asked softly. . I felt my throat go dry in fear as I noticed the way his gaze shifted.   I bit my lips to stifle the pain as He carefully pressed the lit end of the cigarette right against the curve of my breast , pressing in for a couple of seconds and pulling away just before the skin began to singe. He glanced up at me, and I blinked through the tears, pain spreading all over my chest at the burn. That would leave a scar, I thought miserably.

“Wrong answer. Try again.” He whispered.

“Go to Hell.” I choked out.

I flinched when his fingers slipped up into my hair, gripping hard. My scalp burned, sharp and insistent and instinct made me grip his wrist, trying to get him off but it was impossible.

“Let me go..” I snapped, glaring at him. God, How I hated him.

“Was I your first??” He whispered, dragging me close enough that his lips brushed my ear. “ Never had a cock before? Was that why you were so fucking tight?”

I bit my lips, glaring at him, defiant and furious. Did Hoseok actually tell him? That two faced snake…. God , why did these fuckers never leave me alone?

“Seokjin hyung told me…Told me he was looking forward to breaking a virgin and that made me think….God, I was the first cock she ever had….” He hummed, looking infinitely pleased.

“Yes. And I got to say… I don’t know what the fuss is about. You couldn’t even make me cum.” I snapped and Jungkook grinned, grip tightening and the other hand moving to curl around my waist, squeezing hard.

“Did I make you bleed from between your legs Elena? Tell me I did….Cause that’s fucking hot. ” He whispered, voice low and gruff.

Jungkook, I thought vacantly, was a psychopath.

“Go to Lisa. Go fuck her and make her bleed if that’s what gets you off….  and leave me alone.” I whispered and he smiled, bending down pressing a kiss right where he’d burned my skin.

“I don’t need you to tell me that. She’s my fiancé. The woman I’m going to marry. And you know what that means? I actually give a shit whether she cums or not. And trust me she does. Multiple times. Sometimes so hard she passes out.”

“Or maybe she fakes it. Maybe she passes out because she can’t stand your touch either.” I shrugged. “ Because we all know that’s what she’s good at Jungkook. She faked her friendship with me , she’ll fake her loyalty to you.”

“Always got something smart to say, huh Elena? Let’s see how mouthy you get when I’m shoving my cock down your throat.”

I flinched when he pushed me, hard enough to send me sprawling on the floor. I caught myself with difficulty , throwing my hands out to keep my head from hitting the floor. I flinched at the pain that shot up my body, every inch throbbing because of how rough this fucker had been with me.

Ten days and the aftermath of that night still lingered on me.

And it was three in the morning  and I’d spent eight hours on my feet bussing tables , I was exhausted.

I closed my eyes, before pressing my palm against the floor, trying to pull myself up when I felt the press of his shoe at the base of my spine, pushing me down.

I whimpered in shock, my hands giving out and shoulder crashing down into the floor.

“Stay down for a second, baby.” He whispered and I exhaled.

I pressed my palm against the floor, head dropping on to the carpeted floor . I whimpered when I felt him crouch down, foot digging in harder into my back and I curled my fingers into the carpet to swallow the pained sound that bubbled up in my throat.

“I’m going to fuck you again. And this time I want you to do all the work.” Jungkook’s voice came from over me and I flinched. I considered the odds of me putting up a fight and actually winning. It was laughable. I wasn’t going to fight a force of nature. And that was what Jeon Jungkook was.

“ You can’t make me do anything Jungkook.” I whispered finally. “ You can hit me and rape me and kill me but you can’t make me do anything to you. You just have to live with that.”

His foot lifted off my spine and I felt hands on my arms, pulling me up till I was kneeling. I watched as he moved around to stand in front of me.

“Look at me.” He said carefully.” From now you only speak when I tell you to.”

“ Whatever.  Let’s get this over with so I can go see my sister and my nephew.“ I said shakily.

He sighed deeply at that, shaking his head.

“See, if it was upto me, I’d just put a bullet in both their heads. Cos at this point they’re just proving to be a nuisance.”

My blood turned to ice in my veins.

“ But,  Yoongi’s just getting to know your pretty little Jisoo…And he’s my favorite hyung. So I’m going to let her live. But, let’s not invade their privacy for a while.” He began unbuckling his belt and I felt nausea rise inside me.

“Jungkook?” The voice came from the door and I stiffened.  Jungkook groaned.

“Baby, what the fuck are you doing here?” He said gruffly, standing up and using his knee to push me out of the way roughly. I swore, gripping the edge of the table near me to steady myself before turning around to stare at the woman at the door.  I stumbled to my feet, still feeling a little out of it. I needed food. Before I collapsed in a heap on the floor.

“You were supposed to come see me tonight. I went looking for you everywhere and I find you here about to get with some common whore?”  she shouted and I stiffened, glaring at her.

She stood framed in the doorway, staring at me for a second before letting her gaze wander all over the room. She stared at me, eyes taking in the unbuttoned blouse and I quickly moved to put the buttons back on.

“Did you fuck her?” She demanded angrily and Jungkook hummed.

“Since when did I owe you answers, angel?” He asked casually and I watched the woman’s eyes widen, before her brows furrowed in a frown.

“ So what, I can’t ask you who you’re with ?” She asked angrily and Jungkook groaned , kicking out at the nearest stand with enough force to send it toppling over the side, crashing to floor and breaking on impact. I stumbled, back, wrapping my arms around myself as he fairly growled.

“What the fuck is up with all you cunts today?” He demanded, glancing at me in distaste. “ I come back after busting my ass at work for ten entire days . I just needed to get my dick sucked and you two.” He shook his head, hand reaching into his jacket and I felt my eyes widen when he pulled his glock out, releasing the safety and loading the gun before pressing the muzzle right against her skull.

The woman whimpered, hands held up as he tapped the firearm against her.

“You. You don’t come anywhere near me unless I send for you. Is that clear?” He asked sharply and she nodded frantically, abject terror written all over her face.

He turned to me.

“And you. You’re coming with me.” He said quietly and I felt my eyes widen. I opened my mouth to protest but the girl at the door beat me to it.

“I think not…. You’re not taking her anywhere, Jungkook, I’ll-“ She began, reaching forward to grab him and Jungkook moved so quickly, I could barely blink.

The shot rang out , making me jump and I watched as she crumbled to the floor, crying out in pain. I stared in horror, watching the hole in her arm, spilling blood all over the floor and the hallway and my throat went completely dry,  staring at the girl on the floor and the blank, absolutely merciless look on his face.

“Just because I let you sit on my cock once in a while, doesn’t mean you get a say in how I live my life.” He said quietly, using his foot to prod her hip. He glanced at me and I felt my throat go dry as he pulled the glock back to reload it.

He aimed the gun right at me, eyes dark and heavy.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby? Or do you need a physical demonstration as well?” He tilted his head to where the girl was on the floor, pressing her palm against her arm.

“She’s  bleeding out.. “ I choked out. “ you need to get her help, Jungk-“

Another shot rang out and I jumped, heart in my throat as I tried to understand what had happened. It took me a second to realize that he hadn’t shot me. That he had fired at the ceiling.

“Answer the bloody question Elena.” He growled and I flinched, nodding.

“I… I’ll listen… Just…” I glanced back at the poor girl on the floor.” Get her some help.”

Jungkook smiled a little. He turned to the girl on the floor and shook his head.

“Get up baby. Go find Hoseok and get that patched up, yeah? And don’t provoke me the next time, yeah? ” He said casually and she stumbled to her feet, looking disoriented and scared as she moved out of the door.

“ And you. “ He glared at me. “Finish dressing up and follow me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where are we going?” I asked nervously, fighting the instinct to just take off at a sprint, as we walked down the road to where his Mercedes was parked.

“My home. Where else?” He said casually and I stiffened.

“Jungkook-“

“Didn’t I tell you not to speak unless I ask you to, Elena? I’m jet lagged and angry. Trust me , you don’t want to piss me off now.” He said casually and I swallowed.

He opened the door for me, the polite gesture so at odds with what he was doing that my head began to throb.

But I climbed in nonetheless. I stayed quiet for the short ride to his apartment , eyes fixed straight ahead and Jungkook was quiet too. I was too exhausted to be scared, I thought despondently, my eyes drooping because of how long I’d been up. Glancing out the window, I watched the cars whizz by, people living their lives, completely unaware that almost all of them were merely tiny little gears in a machine run exclusively by men like Jungkook. That all their lives, spent working and earning and dying…it was all meaningless. They had no say in anything. People like Jungkook were the ones who got to shape the world to their liking. The ones who got to play God.

And Jungkook was definitely the closest to an omnipotent human I’d ever come across.

Powerful, untouchable and terrifying.

So perhaps, it was a little flattering, that I was the one thing he couldn’t get out of his head.

I glanced at him discreetly.

He was beautiful, I thought with a pang. One of the most beautiful men on this planet. Despite the years, his boyish charm was still right there on his face and he could slip on a plaid shirt , a white t shirt and stone wash jeans and pass off as an innocent college student. I stared at the taut jaw, the long column of his neck and the broad back. His biceps bulged when he gripped the steering when and my eyes lingered on the long fingers curled around the wheel.

I jumped when his hand moved to grip the stick shift , curling on the knob and yanking it back with force. I swallowed, thighs pressing together as my mind shifted to that night in Hoseok’s club. I hated myself for how often I relived it. And not always with disgust.

My fingers fell on the ring on his finger. His engagement ring, I thought with a pang. Lisa. Beautiful, wonderful Lisa who had been a dear friend . Once. For all her shortcomings I knew she loved the man who sat next to me. Cared deeply for him, even. Why else would she do this to me? She must have strong feelings for him , if  it had prompted her to throw away our friendship of over a decade.

“You’re cheating on her then.” I said quietly.  His reminder to not talk to him rang in my head but I couldn’t stop myself. He wasn’t a stranger. And that ring…the ring that promised to bind two people forever….. I’d worn it too. For him.

Jungkook didn’t reply, merely glancing at me in passing.

I sighed, looking at my knees, feeling my shoulders tremble a bit.

“Is she going to be there?” I asked quietly.

He exhaled sharply. I noticed the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“No.”  He said shortly.

“She lives with you right? You said we’re going home ….then where is she-“

“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” He snapped and I swallowed. “ I’m not taking you home to my fiancée Elena, do I look like a fucking idiot? “ He shook his head.

Before I could demand more answers, he was pulling over into a side alley. I watched as he carefully parked the car before stepping out.  Second later, he was coming around and opening the door.

I stared at him, gripping the hem of my blouse, tight. My stomach twisted into knots.

“Can’t you just let me go?” I whispered softly, pride forgotten in the wake of my tiredness. Jungkook stared at me, face eerily blank.

“Get out of the car.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Like it?” He asked softly and I stood on the threshold, taking in the lavishly decorated apartment on the top floor of the building. I noticed the portrait right up front, a large full sized photo of me and Jungkook from nearly a decade ago, wrapped around each other in a hug , showing off our engagement bands.

“What is this?”

“It was supposed to be your wedding gift. From me. I bought it for you. Nine years ago. Thought you should see it.” He said quietly.

I stayed perfectly still , as he wrapped his hands around me in a hug.

“Why did you leave me, Elena?” He asked quietly and I felt my throat go dry.

“Why do you still have this place? Get rid of it.” I snapped. He laughed at that , pulling away and turning me around till I stared at him.

“ Will you stay here, with me?” He asked softly and I froze.

“You’re out of your mind.” I said shortly.

He hummed.

“Possibly. But then, the problem is this. If I tell you , you can’t leave this place ever again….There’s not much you can do about it, right?” He said thoughtfully and I felt a sob building in my chest.

“I… Don’t.” I said shakily.

“You should see the bedroom. Come.”

His fingers wrapped around my wrist dragging me past the lavish couch and sofa, past a well kept bar onto a wide hallway dimly lit. He stopped at the second door on the right, reaching out to open the lock.  The room was plunged in darkness and I hesitated.

“Go on… After you, Mrs. Jeon.” He said softly . I could feel distaste creeping up my spine at the name, shivering a bit as I stepped into the darkness.

“Can you imagine, if we’d gotten married. This is what our first night together would be like…” He pressed against my back, arms coming around me , so gentle that I shivered.

“Jungkook…what are you doing?” I asked shakily.

“Shush…. “ He whispered, moving to unbutton my blouse again. I grabbed his wrists quickly.

“We aren’t married. I’m not your wife.” I said sharply and I felt him go still behind me.

“Shut your mouth and play along like a good girl.” He said quietly. He shook my hands off, moving to undo the buttons again.

Not sure what he expected, I stayed perfectly still as he hummed, pressing soft feather light kisses down my jaw and past my shoulders. His hands stroked up and down my arm as he laughed .

“Did you miss me Elena…..all these years…” He said quietly. “ Because I missed you. So much.”

He hugged me close, tight and hard.

“Are you scared?” He whispered, “ honey?”

“Oh, God…” I choked out, nausea rising up in my throat at the endearment.

“My wife…” He whispered, pressing a few more kisses against my skin before pushing me a bit towards the bed. “ Should I turn on the lights? I wanna see you.”

He nudged me towards the bed and my legs gave out when I hit the edge of it, legs turning to jelly as I sat on it, shaky and creeped out and terrified. Jungkook moved to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, a soft golden glow lighting up the bed .

“Look at you… so beautiful.” He whispered and I watched as he tugged off his shirt, before moving to his belt. He was watching me like I was something precious. Like I was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“What are you doing?” I asked quietly and he smiled, running his fingers over the tattoos decorating his chest. He stopped at a large ornate tiger lily, inscribed right over his heart.

“Do you like it?” he said softly. “ I got this for you. My Elena…. As delicate as a lily and as brave as a tiger.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“Either fuck me or let me go, I’m not here to talk about-“

He slapped me, so hard that my head whipped to the side, my face feeling like it had caught fire. I gasped, the pain spreading all over my jaw and I couldn’t quite grasp what had just happened. I pressed shaky fingers to the throbbing skin near my mouth, eyes watering at the sting.

“Didn’t I tell you to play along, angel?” He whispered sharply and I closed my eyes , shuddering.

Play along. Do it if you want to get out of here alive. ‘

Fucking psychopath.

“ It’s beautiful, Jungkook.” I whispered softly, glancing at him with teary eyes. He nodded.

“We’ll get one for you too. A wolf. With the initials JK on it…. Right here…” He lightly traced a path over my collarbone and I hoped to God, this was some sick fantasy. That he wasn’t seriously considering tattooing his initials on me.

“Strip for me baby… All of it. I want to see you.” He whispered and I hesitated just long enough to take a deep breath. I reached back, quickly undoing my bra clasp and pulling the fabric off.  I hooked my thumbs into my skirt and my panties, tugging both of them off me, swiftly. I dropped all of it on the floor next to the bed, before moving to kneel in the middle of the bed, staring at him with a smile that felt physically painful.

“I’m going to make you feel good, baby.” He whispered quietly, crawling over on top of me.

“Lay down for me.” He said, and I felt repulsed, as he kissed my lips, soft and gentle, pressing in till I was flat on my back, legs parted so he could lie in between.

It was so different from last time and somehow ten times worse.

Jungkook pressed kisses all over my face, whispering gentle words against my skin that felt like acid.

“So beautiful…. Mine. You were always mine Elena. Mine to touch and mine to break . Mine to love and mine to fuck.”

I stared as he loomed over, his face inches from mine, his gaze deceptively affectionate, his eyes warm and almost soft. I watched as he came closer, his lips closing over mine. Instinctively I kept my lips together but his fingers curled around my thigh, squeezing hard enough to make me whimper, lips parting . He pressed his tongue in then , licking into my mouth and I brought my hands up, instinctively wrapping around the bare skin of his shoulders and my body thrummed at the feeling of his muscles under my fingers.

Curiosity made me foolish, and I found myself tracing the hills and valleys of his skin, fascinated by the way the muscles flexed, every time he moved his arm.

“You like that? I worked hard on those…” He chuckled, watching me curl my fingers around his biceps. He was so… big. I moved my fingers up to the hardness of his chest, splaying my palm on his pecs and my fingers caught a hard little scar, almost perfectly round and deep.

“What is this…” I asked , curious my finger dipping into the healed skin and he hummed.

“Your father . He shot me when I was chasing his car down in Jeju Do. Foolish bastard. Thought he could outrun me.” He laughed .

I glanced at him, catching his eyes and the ebbing laughter , my heart twisting.

“Then why am I here? You hate my father. You killed my entire family. So why am I here, Jungkook?”  I asked foolishly, my heart breaking a bit and he hesitated.

“Because you’re mine.” He said simply.

I closed my eyes in despair.

“If this was our wedding night…. What would you say…?” He asked suddenly.

I stared at him, confused.

“What?”

“If we got married back then… When you were eighteen. And it was our first night together….. what would you say?”

I sighed.

“I’d ask you to ….to be gentle.” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Tell me , then.”

I stared at him, feeling helpless.

“Go on, Elena.” He said again.

“Jungkook…” I began but he shook his head.

“Ggukkie.” He said softly. “ Call me GGukkie… That’s what you used to call me …when we were young.”

I clenched my fists, on his chest, resisting the urge to push him off. That wouldn’t end well for me.

“GGukkie…” I whispered, finally, glancing up at him, licking my lips and parting them gently, eyes as wide as they could go, “ you know its my first time right?”

Jungkook’s eyes fairly danced at that and he hummed, leaning closer.

“Is it, baby?” He asked, reaching up to brush my hair away, fingers gentle on my face.

Get into it. Get into it and get it over with.

“You know it is…” I pouted, “ No one else can touch me. I’m yours , aren’t I GGukkie…”

He laughed, rubbing his nose against mine.

“That you are, kitten.”

Kitten? That’s a new one.

Shut up and stay in character , fuck.

I was so fucking screwed.

“ So… will you be gentle?” I whispered , “ I don’t want it to hurt.”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around me rolling over and taking me with him till I was lying flat on top of him.

“Then how about this angel? You can ride me…. As slow and gentle as you like. Make yourself feel good on my cock, yeah….?”

I stared at him.

I’m gonna fuck you and you’re going to do all the work.

He’d played me like a fiddle.

“Well baby? Go on…. Take my pants off.”

I exhaled angrily, before moving down, to tug on his pants. He helped me take them off kicking off his boxer briefs as well.

That’s a beautiful dick. Objectively. Very pretty.

Shut the fuck up.

“ Get it wet for me baby….” He said softly. I glanced down at the hard length of it, jutting out of the small thatch of hair and felt my mouth go dry . Which would be counterproductive if I wanted to get it wet. So I swirled my tongue around my mouth, trying to get my mouth moist, before leaning down and carefully wrapping my lips around the head.

Fuck, he tastes good.

I shook my head a bit to clear the voice in my head, glancing up at him with my lips stretched around the soft pink head and he was looking right back at me, eyes heavy and dark .

“Go on baby, take more of it in, use your tongue…make me feel good.”

I closed my eyes, letting the spit coat the hard length of his cock, sinking down till the tip began to inch down my throat. I sucked lightly, running my tongues back and forth on whatever skin I could touch and it was like sucking a lollipop except the lollipop was thick enough to stretch my mouth wide and hit the back of my throat.

I felt his hand reach into my hair, gripping hard and I whimpered.

“Be gentle…” I whispered, pulling off and his eyebrows shot up , clearly in surprise . He stared at me for a second, as though considering my request and then his fingers loosened , threading through the strands soothingly.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whispered . I went back to sucking him off, somehow my natural tendency to work hard making me bob up and down, using my tongue and taking him as deep as I could. I felt a sick sort of satisfaction when he moaned in pleasure and for some damn reason I wanted to draw more sounds out of him.

This is a dream. Either that or you tripped over a pothole and fell into another dimension.

“ Are you wet ? Come here, so I can check….” Jungkook said softly and I pulled off moving up to straddle his hips. I flinched when he reached down, tracing my slit with carefully fingers before slipping in two. I tightened against the intrusion, still sore on the inside and he pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to my mouth.

“Suck…and get them nice and wet if you don’t want it to hurt.” He said quietly and I wrapped my lips around his fingers, letting my spit coat the slender digits.

When he pushed them back into me, the slide was easier , wetter and I gripped his shoulders, trying to relax around him. It felt foreign but also good… I felt good…

I stared down at him, the broad muscled body and the handsome face and for a crazy moment I imagine what it would have been, if I had married him. Would it have been this….this… weird pleasure that was somehow both painful and exhilarating at the same time. I bit my lips as he curled his fingers inside me, rubbing at some spot high up inside me that sent heat shooting straight up my spine, slick dripping out of me and onto the hard planes of his stomach like honey from a comb.

“Now sit on my cock.” He said quietly. I trembled, reaching down to lightly grip his cock, moving till the head lined up right against my slit or where I thought my slit was. Biting my lips, I lowered my body, feeling my body cleave to let him in, his cock pressing in and in and in.

My knees gave out and I slid down the length of him, the sudden, incredible fullness knocking the breath right out of me.

“ Fuck…baby….you alright?” He whispered and it messed with my head, the way he actually looked concerned and worried and I couldn’t take anymore of it.

“Please… Please… I just… I want to go home…” I whimpered, feeling full and stretched out, my thighs trembling and my insides wet and warm and somehow stuck between wanting more and wanting it to end.

Jungkook grunted, fingers curling over both my hips and lifting me lightly and with ease.

“Come on baby…. Ride me….” He whispered, “ Put your hands on my chest and roll your hips, up and down .”

I did as he said, one hand braced against his chest, the other gripping his shoulder as I tried to move on him but it was hopeless. I had no energy or inclination to do this and the pleasure was fast ebbing into frustration. Jungkook seemed to sense it because he growled.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking bad at this… Fine… Just lay there and let me use that stupid cunt of yours.” He snapped,  gripping my waist and folding his knees just enough to brace his feet on the bed. I gasped as I got lifted a bit , his cock slipping in impossibly deeper , the tip nudging close to my cervix , the lightest brush of it send sharp jolts of electric pain pleasure up my spine.

“Oh fuck,..” I breathed as he pistoned into me, hips hitting my ass with brutal force as he fucked up into me and I could only tremble, eyes fluttering shut, fingers going numb from how hard I was gripping him.

“You’re gonna cum today… I’m gonna make you cum on my cock…” He growled, reaching down and pressing his thumb against my clit, rubbing softly, slow circles that were almost gentle compared to the brutal pounding oh his hips and I felt my mouth go slack, wetness slipping out of my tongue and dripping down my chin because of how excruciatingly good it felt, having him so deep, pressing in against the edge of my womb and I and to press my palm, right up against my belly , stunned because of how my body seemed to open and shift to make room for him.

“I’m gonna cum inside you, right inside your womb, fuck…. Gonna carry my babies for me, right sweetheart? Gonna watch you get round and full with my seed , watch you drip milk all over me with those beautiful tits….fuck…”

The shock of his words sent me over the edge, my body clenching down on him as I came, my orgasm so strong that I felt like I was cramping up on the inside and I toppled forward onto him, landing on his chest and bouncing a bit. Jungkook grunted a little, wrapping both his arms around me, holding close as he fucked me right through the aftershocks, body stilling only when I stopped shuddering and I felt warm wetness spill inside me, so deep that I knew I would have to swallow three morning after pills after this, although I was on birth control.

Because one could never be too sure with these things.

Jungkook stayed still under me and it took me a few seconds to catch my breath. I finally levered myself off of him, legs shaking as I rolled over and onto the bed before breathing in huge lungfuls of air.

“Can I go?” I choked out.

Jungkook grunted. “ Get the fuck out of here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I stumbled out of the cab, exhausted and out of my mind with self loathing, I didn’t expect to see Hoseok sitting on the pavement outside the bakery, leaning against a streetlight, face warm but determined.

“Hobi?” I asked stunned. “ What are you-“

He cut me off with a kiss.

I stared wide eyed as he pulled me into an embrace, wrapping me in warmth and scent of his cologne, his hands impossibly gentle around me as he all but cradled me against his body, his lips moving gently against mine.

“Elena…” He breathed against my lips, eyes glinting . “ I love you. I’ve been in love with you for years. I’m so fucking sorry for being such a coward but you deserve to know… you deserve to know how I feel about you.”

I stared at him in disbelief, my heart pounding as I punched his chest in desperation.

“No… No fuck you… what are you doing…. He’ll kill you…” I hissed and he tightened his arms around me.

“I don’t care.” He hissed. “ I don’t… I can’t just… I can’t let him hurt you like this. I won’t. I’m going to tell him. I’m going to tell him to let you go or lose our friendship.” He said angrily and I trembled.  

My heart raced because Hoseok was the only one I’d ever loved. In every way a girl could love a boy. He was and had always been this confusing breed of brother and friend while everyone had drooled after Jeon Jungkook , I’d always been drawn to him…drawn to his quiet strength and to the way he had always treated me as an equal…

But… but Jungkook…. Jungkook who would put a bullet in his brain without a thought if he thought that Hoseok was trying to move in on something that belonged to him…..

“Hoseok…just… Don’t. I… I love you too…” I breathed out, tired and scared and so fucking worried because what if someone was listening even now..what if word got to Jungkook and he tried to hurt ….i couldn’t even think it.

“Come find me when Jungkook is busy . When he can’t find us…” I said softly, reaching out and pressing my palm against his face.

“I’m not scared of him.” Hoseok growled  and it was ridiculous.  

“But I’m scared of losing you. “ I said quickly. “ We can’t… He can’t know. Ever.”

Hoseok nodded before pulling me close again.

“Was he too rough?” He whispered and I blinked, flushing. I shook my head.

“No.. I. No. I think…”

“I hate that he was the one to touch you, first. You.. You deserve to know how good it can be…. How gentle.. I want to… fuck…” He shook his head pulling away and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“We can’t…” I said quietly. “ you know we can’t.”

He glanced at me, eyes blazing and lips parted and I groaned.

“Don’t look at me like that Hobi…” I whispered, shaking my head.

“Tomorrow. He’s going to Jeju Do , to inspect a new resort. He won’t be back till the day after. Call in sick at work.” He said quietly and I bit my lips, feeling a bit like a whole idiot.

I nodded.

He reached forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

No self preservation skills at all, I thought miserably.  

If Jungkook found out…….

Author’s Note : I’ll add the taglist here tomorrow

[heliads]

Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

masterlist

You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

[sgt-morgan]

Moonlight 🌗

Summary: sadness permeates his life, but loosing you was too much. How are he and his daughter to cope.

Warnings: Grief,bodily fluids, hospitals, Cancer, AFAB and female identifying reader, mentions of broken glass, death of a character. This one is sad, read at your own risk.

A/N: I’m writing this for me, I needed to process my own grief, so I’m doing it this way. Sorry it’s not the normal fluff I usually post, but sometimes life and sorrow demand to be felt.

Moonknight Masterlist

Grief never fades. The poets will tell you this, the artists, bards. Whatever you want to believe about it, grief leaves a mark. It stains. It leeches itself into the corners of your life. Grief creeps, it crawls up over your mind and burrows itself in your bones. Grief lurks, hiding itself in the big places. Holidays, anniversaries, birthdays. Those things. But oh yes, it also hides in those small places too. It hides away in mundane places. Hides where it makes itself most known. That’s what hits Marc the hardest.

The Illness strikes fast. It digs in its roots, and blooms in your skull. Marc has to laugh, this would be his luck, because just like with his own brain, disease clings and doesn’t let go. It starts with a seizure, you’re with friends, and he suddenly receives a call. It’s the hospital, then it’s floods of texts, then it’s his daughter calling. His stomach sinks like a stone, they never call when he’s on missions. He’s never run faster than when his daughter cried and told him you were in trouble. Then it begins. He’s in a hospital with you ‘ just for a night’, then two, then months, then a year. Then it’s scans, and chemo, and surgeries, and blood, and tears, and vomit, and radiation, and bedside mannerisms. He remembers the nights he spent in misery clutching cold and frail flesh and willing it back to life, he remembers wishing to never set foot in a hospital again. Then his wish is granted, and funnily enough? He starts thinking, God, what he wouldn’t give to spend even just five more minutes in a hospital, so long as you’re still in it.

He also thinks about the life at home with what illness ferments. He remembers the sea of well-wishers, remembers the casserole parade, the mourners and the do gooders. Remembers how their offers slowly faded when you settled into your lives ‘with cancer,’ how they all left once you seemed settled. Remembered their return when you were gone, remembers them leaving again. Human kindness comes and goes like the tides, all you can do is surf and nod. Making them feel like they’re helping you is the only way to rid yourself of the burden of their guilt.

He remembers the tears when you had to explain to your daughter. God, the sadness, the bargaining with Gods he can and can’t see, the anger, so much anger. He and his daughter were ticking time bombs for months until they saw what it did to you. A volatile mix of grief and confusion that turned them into whirlwinds of curses and broken glass. You thought he’d at least spent over a thousand dollars on new glassware in that first month, you were probably right. He thinks how funny it is that while she looked just like you, your daughter was just as volatile as him, just as hurt. It made him sad to think there was nothing he could do to change that, to take her pain. He remembers thinking, god, if only I could take their hurt, carry their burdens. Its a shame that it doesn’t work that way, but even if it did, Marc knows you’d attempt to take it all on yourself, so he supposed it’s for the best.

He remembers when you first came home after chemo, and pulled out your first chunk of hair. You were scratching your head, Steven was reading to you and your daughter, then he hears a gasp. Then there you were, numbly holding a fist full of hair, watching as the sadness and shock sunk into his and his daughters bones. He remembers you balling it up, walking to the trash can, throwing it away, and sitting back down. Remembers the moment he was thrust to the front to catch you as you fell into a puddle and sobbed in his arms, clutching him and your daughter, as if they were the ones disappearing and not you. Steven didn’t front too often after that.

He remembers coming home to you and your daughter laughing in the bathroom and smiling, going to see what all the laughter was about and finding his two most precious girls perfectly bald. He remembers relinquishing control to Jake. Remembers him nodding with an overdrawn frown and shaving a stripe right down the center of their head, causing you both to squeal in delight. He remembers how mad Jake got when you and your daughter started joking about the tumor, about your ‘skin tag.’ Remembers when you started calling your daughter ‘Pinky’ and how she referred to you as ‘The Brain.’ Remembers the coffee cup he smashed when he tried to convince you both there was nothing funny about this tumor, and nothing funny about you leaving them alone again. He wasn’t around much after that, you said you missed his tamales. You never ate them again.

He remembers the mission he went on where he thought you died without him. Remembers the horror he felt when he stopped dead in his tracks and took your sister’s phone call. The relief he felt when she just said you were finally resting. Remembers Konshu yelling at him for stopping for such trivial matters. He remembers how he smashed every artifact the old bird asked him for. Remembers telling him if he couldn’t fix her, he was useless anyway. There was no use saving the world when his was collapsing all around him. He remembers responding to Konshu’s guilt trap of his gift of life. Remembers telling him to take it back and give it to you. Remembers when the god said no. He gave up Moonknight that night for the final time. The God never bothered him again.

Now there’s this. Theres the laying awake, and the memories. There’s this staring at the ceiling and thinking about how big the bed feels, how empty. There’s the utter desolate sadness that fills him when he realizes how quiet the room is when your breath isn’t filling it. There’s the abject horror of realizing your pillow doesn’t smell like you anymore, and the clawing anger he feels when he realizes that it never will again. He longs for you, even the stuff he never thought he would miss. He misses your warmth, sure, but he also misses your terrible morning breath, your bed head, your snores, the crust of sleep in your eyes. He longs the most to feel you climb over him to get into bed like you always used to, gently so as not to wake him, though it always did. He longs for you to wrap him in your embrace and to fall asleep. Marc cries himself to sleep.

The. It happens. A dip in the mattress, the smell of your shampoo, a sudden warmth in his sheets. He’s startled awake, is it a miracle? He turns eagerly to try to glimpse you crawling back to him, longs to be wrapped in your embrace. It’s not you though. He deflates. There is however, your daughter. She’s clutching one of your t-shirts. She has your nose, hair, eyes. She is your mark. She is your perfect little clone. Then he sees the way she’s sobbing, and his heart shatters in ways he thought it couldn’t after all the heartbreak he’s already experienced.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” He coos, wrapping her up like he used to hold her as a baby. He is longing right now more than ever for you to play with her hair like you used to when your little family would lay like this. But you don’t, you never will again, and it kills him.

“Daddy.” She cries, pressing your shirt to her nose, “it dosent smell like her anymore!” She sobs, gasping and stuttering. Oh how it kills him to see her cry. “It won’t ever smell like her again! What am I gonna do without her!? She’s not her she’s-“ then they’re both crying. How he wishes he could give you back to her. How he longs to march into the field of reeds and bring you back. How he wishes he could give his daughter that gift. They’re both Heaving and spluttering and then slowly just when they think they will cry forever, the tears fade. Now they’re lying on their backs, holding hands, staring at the glow stars you put on the ceiling. That’s when the miracle happens.

“Do you know why those stars are there?” He asks.

Then they’re reminiscing. They tell stories, they laugh, they cry, they smile. They remember you, and in that remembrance they conjure you into being. Steven and Jake chime in and his daughter smiles for the first time in ages. She had missed all of her fathers, he’s glad they decided to speak to their daughter. She needed them all, now she’s got them. With your memory, Marc can once again hear your peeling laughter, smell your hair, taste your lips, feel the way you used to hold him. Then the grief turns into joy, nothing to mourn when your presence seeps into the room, your memory fills their home. Grief is profound, but love? Oh love beats it by a mile, and their love for you is endless. They talk, and talk, and talk. Then all at once, Marc swears he can feel you with him. That’s when he realizes, the stain of grief is lifting, and all that’s left is the picture of love you left for him. The picture that molds its shape into your daughter. That’s when he decides that maybe grief doesn’t stain, it polishes, and when it’s done your love shines anew, and with your little girl, it glimmers like moonlight.

[princecharmingwinks]

Sterek Fic Rec - May 2021. New rec list for you. Hope you enjoy these delightful reads featuring our favourite werewolf and human dorks <3

May I Interest You in an Apology Muffin? by Leslie_Knope (1/1 | 1,478 | Teen)

“Wait, seriously? Who is it? C’mon, just tell me.”

“Uh…,” Stiles said, buying for time while he looked around as surreptitiously as possible. “That guy over there,” he whispered finally, jerking his chin toward the dark-haired guy three tables over, a guy so hot that Stiles’ only chance with him would most definitely be in an imaginary scenario.

Scott looked over his shoulder at the guy and got that determined glint in his eye that Stiles recognized, just about three seconds too late. Scott was gonna do something that he thought was heroic but was actually dumb.

“Scott!” he hissed, grabbing for his backpack and nearly knocking over their coffee cups in his haste to follow him. “Oh, holy shit.”

you all over me by Poe (1/1 | 3,705 | Explicit)

The thing about Stiles is, Derek thinks, is that he has no idea how enthralling he truly is. He’s easy to overlook, right up until the point he isn’t, and at some stage, Derek started looking, and now, it’s all he can do.

(or: the one where the pack is happy, healthy and alive, and Stiles and Derek are sort of inevitable)

a bad case of the wilds by kaistrex (weishen) (1/1 | 6,446 | Explicit)

“I could smell you all over town,” Derek growls.

Stiles squints back at him, trying to parse what Derek wants from him with that statement. An apology?

“Okay?” he says instead, which, as with everything else he says around Derek, seems to be the entirely wrong thing to come out of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes go red and Stiles bolts upright in his chair, trying to scoot backwards, banging into his desk.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Get away from me, Stiles,” Derek bites out, hands clenched into fists.

Stiles rolls his head on his shoulders. “Dude, this is my room. You get away from me.”

–

Basically, I wanted Derek fucking Stiles up against his bedroom window on a full moon with the blind up, so I wrote it. Happy Valentine's Day!

Cabins, Confessions, and Cockroaches by Nutellargh (1/1 | 4,009 | Teen)

That's how Stiles found himself in the middle of a forest, trying to grab the one bag of clothes and a bajilion bags of mystical powders, liquids, books and weapons, and instantly dropping them as he spotted the cabin dude.

Derek Hale chopping wood with an axe while shirtless was not a sight Stiles was prepared for.

the rescue by EvanesDust (1/1 | 860 | Teen)

Stiles has spent every moment of the last four months tracking the hunters who took his mate. Now that he’s found them, nothing will stop Stiles from taking back what’s his.

A Crooked Way to Fly by andavs (1/1 | 14,980 | General)

“We can’t just leave him here to die.”

“He’s an emissary, Scott.” Derek tried to make his tone empathetic, but Scott’s tendency to fight back on everything always grated on his nerves. “His pack is gone, he won’t survive more than a day or two either way.”

“Then we should stay with him.”

Derek sighed as he studied the man for a moment; he was too pale against the fur rim of his hood, almost grey from lying out in the snow, and his cloak was stained with dark dried blood around a protruding arrow shaft. It was unlikely he would even last the night. They would probably be able to carry on in the morning with little time lost, if any.

It wasn’t a horrible idea, Derek decided reluctantly. They hadn’t been able to set up a real camp for a few weeks in the open foothills, and they were all on edge from sleeping in exposed areas. A defensible place to sleep would be good for them, even if they were surrounded by death. They would be able to give the pack proper burials, at the very least.

“Fine. One night,” Derek relented, already moving away to check on Isaac. “He’s your responsibility.”

Big Bad Wolves by NotThatIWillEverWriteIt (1/1 | 1,144 | General)

"What's one more canine?"

But it's better when it's you by Tails89 (1/1 | 9,707 | Mature)

Shuffling slowly towards the front door, Stiles throws it open.

“What?”

Stiles’ brain short circuits - just a little - because standing in front of him is Derek Hale.

He hasn’t seen Derek in almost four years and now he’s standing on his doorstep, in shorts and a tank top with a canvas bag clutched in one hand.

Teen Wolf Fic Fest Prompt: Someone breaks a bone and someone unexpected winds up on their doorstep with a bag full of groceries

My Soul to Keep by jacyevans, Jmeelee (7/7 | 18,660 | Teen)

Stiles came with a whiteboard, and blue dry erase marker, flapping it over his head like a white flag on a battlefield.

"Come on," he coaxed. "You must want to say something. You've never gone this long without telling me to shut up." He waggled the marker in Derek's face. Stinging alcohol and pungent polymer singed Derek's nose hairs.

His fingers itched to pick up the board, and not because he wanted to tell Stiles to be quiet. He enjoyed the babble that filled the apartment every few days, the hearty food, Stiles' particular, reassuring smell: maple sugar buzz, spicy-sweet deodorant, milk-sour frustration, floral shampoo, and spring grass at night. It soaked into Derek's couch, his bed, his skull.

If any of it were real, Derek would take the board and write: thank you.

Lost Without You by ash_mcj (1/1 | 7,799 | General

Derek made a deal. A very stupid, no-good, mortifying deal because he couldn’t bear to tell his idiotic (secret) mate no. -- “You guys didn’t know that Derek plays piano?” Cora asked, her eyebrows furrowed. “He’s played since before I was born.” “He was good,” Peter recalled. “He used to sing, too. Put on little concerts for the pups.” “That was a long time ago,” Derek clipped. “Doesn’t matter now - I don’t play anymore.” "Derek," Stiles whined childishly. He scooted closer to him and grabbed onto his arm to gently shake him. “C'mon, Sourwolf, my life will never be complete until I hear you sing. I’ll do anything. I’ll streak across the lacrosse field during our final match, if you perform for us right now.” "When you graduate," Derek relented. --- And then Stiles graduated. And Derek had to perform for him. And then the fact that Derek saw Stiles as his mate wasn’t a secret anymore. ---

(For~ Sterek Valentine Week 2021; Day 3 and 4: Secret Crush and Love Song)

**Songfic to "Lost Without You" by Freya Ridings

princecharmingwinks special mention (i have never read a merman AU for sterek and this was a delighful introduction to the trope! Also it has meddling erica which we all know any mention of her is my weakness!)

Beacon Gills by kitsunequeen (1/1 | 4,226 | Teen)

“Derek,” Erica singsongs loudly. Rather than knocking on the rather flimsy-looking piece of driftwood, she grabs a coconut filled with seashells and shakes it violently. “We’ve got a surprise for you!”

“I hate surprises,” Derek answers, voice slightly muffled through the door. “Aren’t you supposed to be out exploring the caves with Isaac?”

“He has some special guests tonight,” Boyd says. “And so do you.”

Derek doesn’t answer right away, and Stiles can almost imagine him sighing.

“Come in,” he yields finally. “You know it’s unlocked.”

Erica flings the door open, nudges Stiles inside, and slams it behind him.

“Surprise!” she yells, and then Stiles can hear her and Boyd’s footsteps quickly retreating.

Oh, shit.

---

When Stiles accompanies Scott on a trip to his uncle's beach house, he gets more than he bargained for after running into a pack of mermaids with a particularly attractive leader...

And that’s it for the month folks! Thank you to the amazing fandom always giving me so much content to enjoy, sterek fandom is the best fandom ;) 

[fathertaurus]

A Nate Jacobs Blurb part 2

A/N: Here it is! The long awaited part 2 I’ve had so many of you ask for lol. I want to mention before reading that the opening scene takes place after an hour or two into the party scene and kinda just opens up on a random scene. I didn’t feel like there was any real need to make this super long as I only wrote the most definitive moment for these characters to carry the storyline along.

I hope to continue this story as I do have many ideas but anything I post will probably just continue to be written as installments such as this and the one previous to it, as I don’t want it to be my main line of work. I’m always coming up with new ideas and I don’t like simply having one on the forefront as it places to much pressure on writing.

Regardless I hope you enjoy!

a disclaimer: If you have seen the show Euphoria you know what the character Nate Jacobs is like and what he’s done. This is not me condoning the actions of this character--in fact, I urge you to view him as the bad guy he is when reading this. That’s how I wrote it, that’s what I wanted to portray because I’ve yet to write a character as such. Though his actions may not come off as terrible when reading this remember who he is written as and try and read it in that way. 

WARNINGS: alluded sexual assault, foul language 

The crystalize haze taking over her entire perception of reality right now was almost near blinding to what was happening. The alcohol and whatever that asshole had slipped into her drink had truly and officially taken its toll on her physical being, her vision and balance being hit the worst. Her body laid skewed across the pile of blankets and sheets, having little to no strength to even shuffle through them and find her way up. 

She couldn’t determine though if that was solely for the obvious roofie or also from the shock of watching Nate barge into the room—practically snapping the door off it’s hinges, and ripping Chris from atop of her before (with a speed she had never witnessed in her life) wrestling him out the door and down the hallway. 

Through it all though and the now busted open door she was able to make out the figures of everyone still filling the living room from her placement on the guest bed, the energy to move no longer permitted in her body but simply her eyes which watched with as much intent as they could muster up.

There was yelling, screaming, and a series of other loud noises, all echoing back to her a million times louder than they probably actually were. Figures moved in flashes and the lights burned into her skull as they danced across the catastrophe spilling all over Elias’ parents’ living room wood. Her hands were on her temples before she could even feel them, body making the intent of covering her ears to attempt to silence all the overstimulation.

Bleary eyed she breathed a deep sigh and tried to find herself, but that moment being ripped away as another set of yelling broke out, the shrills emitted from Nate himself. 

He was in the dead center of it all, hands (from what she could tell) wrapped around the throat of Chris Daniel’s as he looked to be throwing him to the floor. Followed by more commotion, a body hitting the floor—it looked to give the tall brunette new access to whomever’s torso, as he barreled his foot into it repeatedly. 

If only she wasn’t swimming her own vision, her own thoughts, maybe then she could truly make it all out. But the way that pill made her skin ripple over her bones and her own brain pound its way out of her skull was too much, focus was lost on her. 

Before she even had a choice to say or do otherwise her eyes slipped closed and she sunk into the abyss of her body again.

Though she was nearing unconsciousness her ears pricked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were distinctively heavy and almost mismatched—like the person was stumbling over their own two feet. 

Crossing the carpet until they were near her own body she could hear mumbling above her.

“God dammit.” 

Even in her current state she could recognize that voice, the one that belonged to the person who was just moments ago beating the life out of someone. Nate.

“Look at you.” He whispered. 

The feelings of hands along the sides of her hips heightened her senses for a split second, a whine rolling from the back of her lips as to protest. 

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay it’s okay.” The fingertips grasped at the length of her dress and slowly they pulled it back down-- the whole movement now familiar to a piece of her memory somewhere in the back of her mind, “You’re okay I promise.”

There was a brush of her hair out of her face, the touch cascading down her face to her shoulders where she could make little notice of her sleeves being pulled back up. 

Within seconds the same arms were now wrapped around her form and she was being lifted from the bed. The rocking of her motionless figure was the only distinctive thing she was able to recognize before sleep finally took her under in one vast swoop of both of her eyes shutting close. —————————

(POV SWITCH)

Swaying gently back and forth on his feet Nate turned the hall into her bedroom, careful to watch her head as he shuffled through the door. 

The memories of their infamous night flooded back to him instantly, but now as he carried her unconscious body to her bed, he was able to take in the details surrounding them. Her room was a light shade of blue, decorated with huge posters starring various artists and movie stars. 

It triggered a memory from a month or so ago. Sat around a lunch table only one over from her own he could vividly remember overhearing her and April Denavive discussing that Timothée Chalamet kid and how Y/N had such an affinity for him. 

”He was so incredible in Little Women, I swear I’d give anything to just hold his hand or something.” Nate from his seat could see that her rambles caused April to snort into her fruit cup, the red head shaking her head at her friend.

”God Y/N you’re such a virgin.” 

She made sure to swat at April’s arm, poking her finger into her side for sure measure, ”Oh fuck off.” 

April laughed aloud once more as she pushed back before managing to maneuver her arms around her friend, squeezing her in a tight embrace before pressing kisses to her cheeks. 

”No no no, it’s cute!” She gushed, “It’s cute how much you want to fuck that French boy but can’t work up the nerve to say it.”

”April! God--He’s American his dad is just French--oh you know what never mind I hate you.” “N-Nate?”

Returning back to reality Nate was almost startled at the sound of another voice, completely forgetting where he was for a moment. Drawing his eyes downward he found himself back in Y/N’s room, still hovering over her side.

“Shh,” he cooed, fingers tangling in the ends of her hair as he brushed them off of her forehead, admiring the array of glitter from her eyeshadow decorating her skin. It made her shine even brighter than how he always saw her. “You’re safe now..sleep.”

She rustled amongst her blankets, nose curling and eyebrows furrowing as she struggled, a huff following.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, instantly taking notice of her discomfort. She whined innocently, sitting herself up with her eyes still wired shut and began to tug at the sleeves of her dress. 

“Itchy,” She breathed another huff as she tore at the seems, “Need it...off.”

Nate’s entire demeanor shifted. He watched her meticulously as she pulled at the material until it was up and over her chest—but the poor drunk girl seemed to lose all momentum as her arms suddenly dropped, the dress now a mess sagging off of her neck. 

Another shrill moan echoed from Y/N, not having the energy to pull the rest of the dress off and expressing her frustrations. Nate waved her off.

“Shush, I’ve got it.” Reaching forward he pulled the rest of the dress up and off of her figure, careful to not get her earrings or hair caught, before tossing it to the side just shy of her hamper he noticed upon entrance into her room.

A deep, noticeable breath expelled from her lungs before she fell back amongst the pillows, body now severely bare to Nate—the only thing keeping her covered being her bra with a pair of matching panties around her hips. 

It was pink, the bra, lace yet exuded softness with its subtle tone of color and petite bow in the middle to add a touch of innocence. Her underwear resonated in the same way; they were different than Nate had pictured when his fingers grasped at them earlier that night. He was expecting something more revealing as was common with most girls at parties like that, or in high school in general. But they weren’t—they were form fitting, far from raunchy and bore a soft pink hue like her bra, which was different than the deep red he once imagined.

And it all looked so right on her.

Y/N had seemed to finally settle in her sheets, sleep overtaking her whole figure as she noticeably sank deeper into the mattress. Nate took that as his moment to breathe in, truly, the sight before him. 

His eyes nearly followed her every move with adamancy, in an effort to note every singular detail possibly manufactured by her sleeping frame that he could then later remember at his pleasing. 

“You are so,” his fingers traced down the length of her arm, watching as the touch triggered a wave of goosebumps even as she was unconscious; He smiled, “Perfect.” 

Drawing back he grasped at the blanket before tugging it up and over her body, covering her up to her chest. Tucking in the sides of the cover to her skin he rustled them until he deemed her absolutely comfortable and then took his place  at the flank of her bed once more. 

“And you are all mine.” -------------------------

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests for more if you liked!

[whirling-fangs]

Inosuke didn't realize that he was holding his breath. For a split second, he wondered if his heart might not have stopped beating too. He watched the rock soar across the gardens and hit its mark with a great bonk... but the window did not shatter. As he had expected, the glass wasn't so thin and fragile that a simple rock would blow right through it.

He waited to see if his break-in attempt would garner any response. Sure enough, a silhouette soon walked past the window he had aimed for, the outline of a face hardly visible through the glass. Some sort of guard, probably. They could have ruled out the noise as an unfortunate bird, or perhaps a twig. It was a rather windy day.

If the windows were no good, there was still one obvious way in.

Inosuke hurried back to the house, and walked to the entrance by going around the walls rather than running straight to the front. A wooden gazebo overhang the front door, offering a pleasant yet simple view to the visitors.

Ding-dong!

It wouldn't be long before one of the maids opened the door, wearing a customary smile.

"Hello, dear guest! How may I help..."

Confused painted a slight frown on her features. She looked left and right, noticing the pink car parked in the background, but there was no one there. It must have been another of these youth pranksters. She closed the door with a sigh, and returned to her duties.

There was the softest of thud as Inosuke's bare feet landed on the floor. Years of climbing up caves to snatch some food from the bears had come in handy.

He had to be quick. Even in the stuffed atmosphere of the corridors, he could feel several obstacles roaming. He had to find the shady guy again, the one that looked like he would break bones first and ask questions later. Given how fast he had reached the window, his guarding spot couldn't be too far.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, yet something did bother Inosuke. There was no sign of rainbow-eyes. His presence was one that Inosuke could spot from several rooms away, yet he seemed to have completely vanished...

Until Inosuke felt it. The slight howl of the wind pouring in through the vents, sending the air flowing anew across the house, carrying all sorts of presences with it. Like scuttling bugs inside an anthill.

Inosuke crouched down, arms spread by his sides. The vent was right there, covered by a metal grid that would most likely make noise if Inosuke were to open it. He had to distract the goons, somehow.

As he raised his fists to punch at his own skull, Inosuke caught sight of the long forgotten charger cord. He clambered back on the ceiling and crawled to the very corner of the corridor, making sure to keep himself out of view. With a powerful throw, the cord was sent hurling across the hallway, landing on the opposite side of the door with a dull thud.

Inosuke felt the guards stir. One of them moved to check the source of the noise, while the other's attention was inevitably caught in the same direction.

There was no time to dawdle. Inosuke dropped back to the ground and practically threw himself at the vent, dislodging the grid from the wall with a sharp tug and carefully setting it down. He shoved his head first, making sure that it fit – and it did, just barely. To make the rest of him fit was a matter of a few adjustements. There were a few sharp cracks before his arms fell limp by his sides, allowing him to slither inside head first.

It wasn't long before the presences became more oppressive, and the sound of voices reached his ears. One louder than the other, tearing a scowl from the teen.

"...to talk to you about business."

So rainbow-eyes wasn't lying. This was all just some sort of boring meeting. But why bother going all the way down to the basement? Was the conversation so secret that they had to take such precautions?

Something didn't add up. Inosuke crawled further and further, trying his best not to make a noise as he approached the source of the voices.

The first thing he noticed was how dry his throat felt; when he reflexively tried to swallow. Thick lashes flickered open and he instinctively flinched. Bright cold light stung his eyes; the buzz of flickering lightbulbs fading in. With a small grunt, he begun to run a hand over his face, only to realize it was detained by something. Something that pressed, thin but hard into his wrist. And that was the first sign prompting him to move. A subtle rock, left and right as his senses fade in, one by one. The room smelled like it had been mopped with hand sanitizer and left sealed and humid for way too long. It was very quiet, but he could tell there were other people. He just hadn't seen them yet.

Still, Dōma's expression merely wrinkled with a pout when he looked down at his own legs stripped bare. They'd tied him to some chair with naught but his underwear on; and as memories returned to him, he realized they were obviously worried about wires. Anything that could record their exchange.

Another, much more pungent stench enters the room when the flick of a lighter prompts Dōma to look up. Uncle Sano stands just as he remembers him; a plump man in his sixties, with short fingers nursing his cigarette and a balding spot that has only expanded since the last time they saw each other.

❝ Heeey there Uncle— ❞

" Be quiet. " The man cuts Dōma's bubbly tone before it has a chance to blossom. There's a short-lived pause in the room while Uncle Sano puffs some spoke. During that silence, Dōma tests his wrists against the zip ties pinning him to the chair; his gaze incospicuously scans the room through the corner of his eye, noting the position of those two goons standing by the room's entrance. It seems to be some sort of storage room, judging from the metallic shelves mounted on the walls and the stock of unlabelled carbdoard boxes.

The mobster takes a deep inhale and sighs contently. With a hand atop his diaphragm, he pulls a second chair and sits opposite the bound captive without much of an expression. Save for that characteristic tinge of displeasure with life that older people sometimes carry on their faces.

" You have been audacious enough, to come to my home uninvited. You don't need to disrespect me further. " He rubs his eyes, beady yet tired, surrounded by wrinkles. It's a stark juxtaposition to Dōma's dewy complexion. The latter leans forward ever so slightly with a conspiratory smile.

❝ Would you have ever invited me yourself? ❞ Uncle Sano squints. ❝ Case in point; my options were a little limited, don't you think? I had to find you somehow, though, because I needed to talk to you about business. ❞

A tense pause follows as Uncle Sano leans back, hands rubbing up his hips as if he suddenly gained interest in the conversation. The men say nothing. There's no sounds from outside.

This house in itself is rather quiet. Or maybe that's because they are in the basement. Maybe it's soundproofed — oh, what a horrible notion. Why would someone soundproof their basement ? Even as he begins to speak, his mind takes in the room; a boarded window that's probably on ground level, a vent overhead that's probably too narrow for him to climb in... He's in a tight spot. Well, that plus all his clothes and personal items are missing.

❝ So, here's what I'm— ❞ He's interrupted by the sound of a small, subtle cackle. And when he takes in the man's expression, there's an unpleasant smile on Sano's features.

" Why would I do business with a good-for-nothing scammer like you? "

In the meantime, the rest of the estate seems empty. Apart from the occasional maid shuffling past, the hallways are vacant. The home, albeit clearly belonging to a wealthy man, is far from oppulent. A minimalist but luxurious set up. Mei-Mei's voice is heard sniffling quietly through a wall, while a couple of men in dark suits stand by a particular door leading to the lower house levels. And on the corridor beside that door; a small, metallic gate opening leading down to the ventilation system. If only one could sneak around those guys and prop it open...