#so i like to remember ones that i loved through a good part of the year

[revelboo]

Hello Happy new year.

I really wanted to thank you for all your transformers writing. Humans meeting Cybertronians will always make me happy, especially when it's followed with several angs and misunderstanding shenanigans.

I love how cybertronias either get their humans by picking them randomly (Autobots and Decepticons on earth) or the humans literally appear in front of them (Lost Light crew). Its like the universe is telling them "now bond" in the most awkward get alone T-shirt (*cough* transformers one au).

Also, where are you storing all the souls people are offering you? I would like to sacrifice mine for more of the sweet Murder Machine Tarn or (but just if you can and would like to) some Sunder.

Gotta save the Cybertronian race somehow- scenarios with the three least okay Cybertronians

Obsessive Cybertronians Scenarios 18+ 🌶️

Sunder x Reader, Tarn x Reader, Vortex x Reader

Sunder

• “Where were you?” That husky, low voice strokes over you as the inner door seals behind you. Can hear the shivery sound of his chains sliding as he strains against them. You know he can’t get loose, that he’s trapped, but the fine hair at your nape still prickles with a combination of fear and excitement. Unlike the Cybertronians on the ship, Sunder can feed off your memories but can’t shred them and destroy your mind. Understand that, but you can still feel it when he gets in your head and sometimes it goes both ways. His twisted thoughts and emotions spilling over into you. Spreading like poison through you. “I need you.” Eyes closing as he shifts restlessly, you gather your strength and remind yourself that you’re in charge here. Starting up the scaffolding that had been erected to give you access to his berth, your breath comes quicker. Fear and need. “I missed you, little love.”

• Head turning, he watches you, glossa sliding over his denta. They’d forced him to mass displace to make him manageable and bound him, giving him you thinking he can’t manipulate you. Fools. Though he’s enjoyed playing with you, dabbling in your memories. Finding all sorts of lovely insecurities. Like the fact that you’re surrounded by Cybertronians, but so lonely. “You’re just hungry,” you mutter, drifting closer anyway. Because you’re as hungry as he is. Afraid of what the crew will think of you if they find out what you do with him. To him.

• “Starving.” Hands bound at his sides, he flexes his servos. “What has you troubled? Come here.” Those blue optics stare at you, his lips parted as his hips lift as much as they can. Taunting you. “Let me taste.” Know he means your memories, but as he slides that glossa over his denta you shiver. Because you don’t trust him, know exactly what he is, how awful and ruined he is.

• “Not happening,” you say as you toe off your boots and strip off your lower coverings, leaving the rest on. Hips lifting again when you lay a soft hand on his chassis and shift over him. That little touch sparking through him, letting him in. Clever fingers finding the panel and releasing his erect spike. Optics shuttering and lips parting as you grip him and guide him to you. Letting you believe you’re in control as you take his spike deep into your wet heat. Taking your pleasure as he uses the contact to delve into you, feeding off of your memories. Living through them as you brace your palms on him and undulate against him.

• Is It how wrong it is that makes it so good? Or is his corruption spreading to you, making you as twisted as he is. Head tossed back as you bounce on him, your breath catches. Feeling him in your head, spreading like smoke through you. Whimpering as you remember the last victim. Hunting another Cybertronian, so hungry. Eager for the kill, his hunger twisting through you as you devour their memories. Under you, he’s whispering in that silken, terrible voice. Crooning to you as you ride his spike. “Let me go, little love. We could be free,” he groans as you move faster against him. “Take such good care of you.” Hear his chains rattle as his hips rock up against you, voice growing strained. Know he’s lying to you, but you want it a little more every time. Want him even as you fear someone checking on you and finding you on his spike.

Tarn

• Servos tightening on your hips as he kneels behind you, you whimper as he buries his spike inside you. “Weak,” he snarls, hips moving urgently against you to stroke deep. “Blasphemous.” Cheek resting on your outstretched arm, hips up as he ruts against you with deep, hard strokes, his optics glint at you from behind his mask. Because no matter how much he insists this is wrong, he doesn’t stop. Sneering at humanity and weakness in front of the rest of the DJD, but when it’s just the two of you, he can’t seem to stop reaching for you.

• Running a palm up your spine as he thrusts against you, lost in the feel of you gripping his spike, he hates it even as he needs it. Needs you. “Tarn,” you moan and his optics shutter, hips pumping frantically as you tremble under him. Every single time he claims you, he swears it’s the last time. That he won’t succumb to this weakness. This shame. And then he finds himself bearing you down, mounting you again. Wishing he was stronger. That he could just break you and be free of this addiction, but never able to. How many times has he wrapped his servos around that delicate throat while you rest against him, thinking how easily he can end this? But never following through. Unable to lose you.

Vortex

• “Do it,” he groans, mask retracted and denta bared as you press that little blade, the one he’d given you, to the mesh of his neck under his chin. Hands on your hips, he rocks himself against you. Feeling the way you tighten on his spike. “Is that what you want? Me to beg? Please.” Laughing, he lifts his hips and throws you off balance. Feels the little bite of pain of the blade cutting him, before you yank it away from his throat, eyes wide. “Frag, a bit harder. Deeper.” Not sure if he means the blade or his spike stroking inside you. Servos tightening on your hips as he rolls. Hears you swear as the little blade goes clattering and that lovely coppery scent fills his senses.

• Back hitting the floor as his hips surge against yours, you hook your legs around his waist. Feel the wetness running down your wrist where you cut yourself. Spike pounding deep, he catches your arm and drags your hand to his mouth. Latching onto you, the side of your hand gripped in his denta as his glossa slides over the shallow cut to make you squirm. Pain and pleasure spangling together as you dig your thumb into his neck, finding that little nick and pressing against it until he shudders against you, biting hard enough to make you cry out as he releases. Hips surging against you, as he runs his glossa against the inside of your wrist and stares down at you, venting raggedly. Slipping free of you long enough to flip you onto your belly, then he’s inside you again, hips pumping as his mouth brushes your neck and shoulder and he bites again. Gripping you in his denta as he ruts against you and you scream, coming apart. Trembling as he keeps moving against you, both of you unable to find pleasure without pain. The same kind of broken.

If they fully bond to him, he could, but they’re refusing to give in completely so far

[g4rvez-r3id]

A Chat About Books

S5! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Synopsis: Spencer catches you reading a rather disturbing book on the jet and a discussion about books and reading ensues.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of a case, discussions about a disturbing book called ‘Playground’, talks about gore (not explicit, just mentions of it in the book), mentions of murder & children dying, mentions of the Foyet arc and 5x09 “100”, reader has a fear of flying, reader is lowkey embarrassed about what she’s reading? spencer is also *lowkey* a simp? reader loves reading (heh), reader & spencer have crushes on each other but the other doesn’t know (i think that’s it, but please let me know if there’s anything i’m missing 🙏)

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so i’m in the middle of reading “Playground” by Aron Beauregard and oh my god???? 😧 anyways, i wanted to write a little blurb because i get embarrassed about the amount of books i buy and read and ik spencer would never judge 😌 i love ✨projecting ✨ but i’m thinking of writing a part two with smut🤭 let me know hehehe

The case was a quick one. Sometimes, they usually weren’t and the team would probably be holed up in some random state for about a week. The longest you stayed was two.

You’d been on the team for a couple of years now and still, sometimes you never got used to flying high up in the air. You were usually terrified to fly, but over the course of you being on the team, you eventually got used to it.

And then you remembered the one thing your colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid, always suggested. Reading while flying. And it actually helped for flying on the way home. Usually flying to the case often consisted of debriefing and going over the M.O. and victimology. Flying home was always the better opportunity to get to reading your novels.

And you loved reading, so it gave you more of a reason to catch up on it. You often stuck to romance, but occasionally drifted into the horror genre, like you were now.

After the case in Minnesota — regarding your unsub killing prostitutes and then graduating to lower risk victims that reminded him of his wife who left him for his best friend — you were curled up in your seat on the jet, it’d been a while since you indulged in your reading without having your head full of thoughts. Since what happened with George Foyet taunting Hotch and his ex-wife and child going into witness protection and it ending with Haley being killed in the process, your head had been filled with so many thoughts and worries and stress for Hotch and his family that you could’ve even bury your face in a book until everything calmed down.

Spencer had noticed that you’d started reading again as he passed through the aisle on his cane and seated himself right next to you. He didn’t know what book you were reading but you’d been so focused on it, you didn’t even see that Morgan tripped over nothing in the aisle and tried to play it off like he didn’t. Usually, you’d laugh and tease Morgan like a brother since that’d always been your friendship with him but you didn’t even remove your focus from the book. Spencer thought it must’ve been that good of a book that you didn’t draw your attention to anything else.

He leaned over, trying to get a look at what you were reading but the book was nestled in your lap. “Whatcha reading?” Spencer finally asked and suddenly, your attention was finally drawn from the book. You almost flinched because you didn’t realize he was sitting next to you.

You quickly try and hide the cover since it’s a pretty gruesome sight so you turn it towards you in your lap. “Oh, it’s a— it’s a horror novel.” You tell. “You, uh, you wouldn’t like it.” You quickly add before he can ask what it was about.

“Why do you think so?” Spencer asks as he leans his cane over in the aisle.

You knew Spencer wasn’t one to judge, it’s what made liking him so easy. And yes, you’d admit it, you harbored a crush on the genius. And honestly, why wouldn’t you? He was amazing, sweet and insanely hot. He was everything you wanted in a man. You knew he probably didn’t feel the same way and that was okay. But finding out what type of horror novels you were into was probably a dealbreaker. Not just in a hypothetical relationship but in a friendship.

You see, the book you were reading was called Playground by Aron Beauregard. It was about an old woman who lured three families for their children to try out a playground structure for money. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the playground structure is basically a death trap for the children and their parents are forced to watch as their children try and survive the playground structure of death. It was your first time reading it and well, one time was definitely going to be enough.

And part of you worried about telling Spencer the exact kind of book you were reading and you worried that maybe he’d think you were some type of monster for reading a book such as the one you were holding now.

“It’s—It’s pretty gruesome.” You said and pretty gruesome was putting it lightly.

“So is what we see on a daily basis.” Spencer retorts and you nod with a small shrug, “Fair point.” You sit to face him and you begin to explain the book to him.

“It’s a different type of horror. Splatterpunk, if you will. Do you know what that is?” You ask and he nods, “A, uh, literary genre characterized by graphically described scenes of gory nature. In most cases, the gore described is extreme.” Spencer explains, literally giving you the definition he’d most likely read on paper on in a dictionary.

“Right,” You nod. “Well, the plot follows a woman by the name of Geraldine Borden. She was working on building revolutionary playground equipment for years. And she decides to invite three low-income families to the estate. All the parents have to do is have their children test out the playground equipment but — there’s a twist. The playground structure is actually full of death traps and the children are pretty much in danger the entire book and unfortunately, the parents are forced to watch as the children try to escape. Spoiler alert: I’m pretty sure none of them make it.” That was just a guess, it was your first time reading it after all.

“I thought you only read romance books.” Spencer stated and you shrugged, “I change it up a bit once in a while. I found this book online on some blog. A lot of people were talking about specific pages and parts in the book and well, curiosity killed the cat.”

“Why do you read splatterpunk?” Spencer decides to ask you and you look down at the book and then back at him as you admit — “Is it bad if I say it helps with my profiling?” Spencer furrows his brows as he looks at you curiously — “Really?”

“Yeah, in some of the books I read in this genre, the main character is usually a serial killer. Or killing is involved in the most extreme of ways. It helps you really get into the mind of a killer and see why they do what they do. If it makes sense without sounding totally crazy.” You explain, hoping to God that you don’t sound insane for using extreme books such as the one you’re reading now to get a deeper understanding about your job.

“I don’t think it sounds crazy,” Spencer interjected with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s just a different perspective on things.” You stare into his eyes with a smile and surely enough, you can just get lose into those hazel pupils of his. How a man can be as beautiful as him should be a damn crime.

You turn back to the cover of your book and set it down, the cover facing upwards and seemingly feeling a little secure in what you’re reading without feeling embarrassed. “Yeah, well, this is my first time reading this book and well, probably will be my only time.”

“I’m assuming that the next time we’re in this position, you’ll be reading romance.” Spencer tells, considering that every time you’re on the jet, you’re reading a new romance book. The last time you were on the jet, you were reading a book called Praise and the author was Sara Cate. Spencer had gathered it was an erotic book, solely based on the fact that your face had flushed a couple of times while reading it and commenting that you needed to put a pause on reading until you got back home. He’d wished to know what exactly you were going to do once you got home that night.

“Oh, for sure. Those usually cheer me up from stuff like this.” You gesture to the book in front of you. “I’ve got to stop buying books, though.” You sigh sadly.

“When I was younger, my mother had always commented that I bought too many books. Said I should use the money for something a tad more useful. I can’t tell you how many Stephen King books I bought when I finally got a job. Every paycheck, it was a new book. I guess I need to outgrow the habit, sometime.” You look down, growing embarrassed again that you just spewed all of that to Spencer.

“I don’t think you can never have enough books,” Spencer tells. “No matter if it’s silly little romance books or anything of the horror genre, reading is a part of life. We shouldn’t shame other people for what we like.” He explains and you find yourself smiling again at him. “You’re right.”

Before you can go back to reading your book, you yawn behind your hand and Spencer leans over, “You should get some rest before we land.” He suggests, considering the fact that the entire time you were both in Minnesota, you barely slept. You drank coffee the entire time you were there, not wanting to bat an eye and have the unsub strike again. The most you slept was two to three hours at most. Both of your young minds working together would be the death of you one day.

You shake your head, “Oh, no. I’ll be fine.” Spencer looks at you carefully, “I know you’ll be fine, but you should get some rest. A short nap can often improve memory, improve job performance, lift your mood, make you more alert, and ease stress. They can also be good for your heart, too.”

You nod, your eyelids seemingly growing heavy after Spencer had talked to you about naps. “If you insist, pretty boy.” Stubborn as you were, the only person that could get you break was Spencer. He knew you were independent and always assured everyone you were fine. But Spencer always saw through it. You weren’t sure how he did, but he did, every single time.

So, you put your book down on the table and curled up in your seat as your head fell towards the armrest. Spencer had been in arm’s reach of the couch and grabbed the throw blanket that was perched there and quickly tossed it over your body. You looked down at you with a small smile on his face.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he always liked you. Like liked you more than a colleague. He liked you-liked you. There was something about you that lit up a room, something that he often noticed. And the fact that you’d had so much knowledge of books and the way you seemed to enjoy explaining a plot to him reminded him of himself a lot. You were so passionate about reading and books and he loved that little fact about you. He loved you. He loved your smile, your personality, your body.

And he wondered if he’d ever get the chance to tell you that. And he hoped that maybe one day, he’d stop being a chicken for once and actually tell you how he feels about you.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Saving What Was Lost Part 6: New Introductions with a Cup of Hot Chocolate✨

Pre-Outbreak! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: The frequent need to write about these two is always sitting in the back of my mind. The slow burn is burning, friends 🥹 I have so much more left for these two, so this is a little New Year’s present because the writing bug hit me this week. I hope you enjoy 🩷

Chapter Summary: An unexpected guest appears in Joel’s front door, but it’s not just any guest. It’s his daughter Sarah, and he wants you to meet her.

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter Tags: Fluff, angst, meeting Sarah, soft! Joel, age gap (reader is late 20’s and Joel is late 40’s), slow burn, mentions of being trafficked, hurt Joel, yearning, so much yearning

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

  November autumn leaves fall from the oak and maple trees outside the view of the floor to ceiling windows, stacking vivid piles of bright orange and dark red colors across the front lawn. Whiffs of pine and cinnamon permeate through the house, creating the perfect atmosphere to read by the crackling fireplace in the living room. 

   That’s what you spend most of your time doing these days. Reading anything and everything you can get your hands on. Joel has hundreds of books scattered around his house, so you don’t have to go far to find something you want. 

   You love the afternoons. Love being in the comfort of a home where you feel warm and relaxed. Where you feel… safe. Yes, safe. Joel does that. Makes you feel like you’re in the presence of a knight in shining armor. You guess that’s what he is to you. Your savior. But mostly, you love afternoons because that means he’s here, and he’s choosing to spend his time with you. 

   The other night when he watched Gone with the Wind with you was the first time you actually had fun in a long, long time. And he made sure you were comfortable and taken care of, made sure you got to bed okay. But the one thing that burns like flickers of embers in your brain is the moment he picked you up and took you upstairs. 

   He was so… careful. Gentle, even. You latched on so tight to him that he had to pry your fingers from his flannel. He tucked you in, that much you remember. But also, you vaguely remember the faint brush of his fingers on your cheek, a lock of hair pushed behind your ear, and whispered words of affirmation. 

   Beautiful. He called you beautiful. Even if you were falling in and out of sleep, you still heard his slow drawl float through your ears, and you’re still blushing from the electric moment. He doesn’t need to know you heard it. You’ll just keep it tucked away in your locket, save it for a rainy day when you can repeat it a thousand times in your mind. Maybe one day he’ll say it again. Or maybe, one day you’ll be strong enough to look him in the eyes and tell him exactly how he makes you feel. Safe, beautiful, whole, seen. 

   Thumbing through the colorful bookcase, you slip a book out and start scanning the back. Just when you start to flip the front page, the click of the front door opens, and then you hear voices. Joel’s and someone you don’t recognize. Pressing the book against your chest to hug away the anxiety that’s building in your system, you pause when in comes Joel with a girl with big doe eyes and long strands of curly dark hair. You take a good, long look, your brain suddenly registering who she is. 

   Sarah. 

   You drop the book from your arms and it goes tumbling to the floor, your mouth parted open in mere shock as you register the situation. 

   Joel steps forward, enough to feel the heat from his body against yours, his arm placed gently around Sarah’s back, pushing her forward to present to you. He clears his throat and smiles. “Have someone I’d like to introduce you to, sweetheart.” He flicks his brown eyes to you and then back to Sarah as she stands gleaming in the sunlight with a bright smile. “This is Sarah, my daughter.” And then he says your name, introducing you the same. 

   You stand there lock-jawed, eyes wide, arms down at your sides, your mouth parched of words as you take her in. Big smile, as kind as her brown eyes. Eyes like Joel’s. She has a light dusting of freckles across her nose, cheeks warm and pink. She looks so kind. Kind like Joel, you think. 

   She says your name brightly and flashes you a genuine smile. “It’s so good to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much.” Before you register what happens, she’s throwing her arms around your back and pulling you in for a tight embrace. 

   Your eyes widen in confusion, mouth hanging open as she squeezes you tighter with your arms still draped to the sides of your body. It’s like you’re a long-distance cousin she hasn’t seen in years, but you’ve never met her in your life. But you think it’s okay because she’s a survivor like you, and you feel like you do know her. Joel’s told you so much. 

   Briefly flicking your eyes up, Joel chuckles under his breath from the foyer and gives you an encouraging smile, his eyes sparkling with glee as he takes in the sight of his sweet daughter pulling you in for a hug. 

   As if he’s encouraging you, you cautiously snake your arms around her back and hug her right back, embracing her like a sister that got lost along the way of the kidnapping. And when you finally breathe in her strawberry scent, you hold her tighter for just a few seconds knowing that she had everything stripped from her years ago too. 

   When you release your arms from her, Joel gives you a small smile and slowly retreats back from the room. “I’ll get out of your hair, let you two talk.” And then he’s disappearing around the corner, leaving you alone with Sarah. 

   “You want to go out on the back porch?” Sarah asks brightly, brown eyes as big as the moon. 

   You give her a shy smile and hesitate because you’ve never actually been out there before. You kind of just locked yourself in the house, afraid to venture far from closed doors and warm air. Afraid to go far because you’re still scared. Scared someone could take you away from Joel again… “Umm, sure. I’ve never really been out there before.”

   “You’ve never been out back?” she asks, shocked, jaw dropping like you just said you’ve never seen colors before.

   You shrug meekly and say, “Kinda keep tucked away in the house.”

   Registering your answer, she closes her lips and nods. “I understand. It’s nice and cozy in here, but come on. You’ll love it.”

   She tugs your wrist and pulls you along with her toward the back glass door, only stopping momentarily to pick up two fleece blankets from a little basket tucked next to the fireplace. Handing you one before she slides the door open, she encourages you forward.

   When you step out onto the wooden back porch, your jaw drops as you take in the beautiful view. Acres upon green acres expand over the horizon. A small pond that glistens in the sunlight sits a couple miles out. A flock of birds soar in the blue sky, only disappearing behind some forming grey clouds in the near distance. And the trees… so many tall, green, large scatters of them expand over the open land. It’s almost like home…

   “Whoa. This is…” You pause, mouth suddenly dry as you join Sarah on the porch swing, eyes still roving across the beautiful view. How did you not know this was out here all this time? 

   “Pretty great, right? Dad owns all this. All the way back behind that line of thick trees.”

   You scan the horizon, but you don’t see an end anywhere in sight. He must own hundreds of acres. 

   Taking a deep breath, you part your lips and smile, pulling the blanket up over your lap to dissipate some of the November chill. “I’ve been kind of a recluse since I’ve been here. I just can’t believe I missed this. It’s beautiful…” And it is. Breathtaking, actually. It kind of takes the ache away, fills you with a little happiness that replaces all the bad things that have happened to you over the past couple of years. 

   “That’s okay,” she smiles encouragingly. “You’re seeing it now.”

   You take another moment to soak it all in. The crisp smell of autumn, the yellow and red tinted leaves that blend in with the deep greens, the open land that’s filled with picturesque views that you swore would never be in Texas. But this? This is as close to home as you’ve felt for a long time. 

   Sarah’s warm voice pulls you back to the present. “Dad’s told me a lot about you.”

   You turn your head, eyes a little weary. He’s told her about you? “Really?” you ask, taken aback.

   “Mhm,” she hums out with a smile plastered on her glossy lips. 

   “Nothing bad I hope,” you breathe out.

   She shakes her head, curls bouncing with the movement. “Oh, no. Only good things. He really likes your company.”

   He likes your company? 

   You smile to yourself, feeling a blush set in on your cheeks as the cool air blows against your skin. He likes your company… “Well, I like his too.” But really, you mean to say you just like him. More than his company. You like being in his space, nuzzling into his soft flannels that smell like him—Pinewoods, mahogany, and a hint of black coffee. You like talking to him, watching his dimples cave into his tanned cheeks when he’s smiling. You just like him. All of him. You like everything about him. Especially how kind and soft he is with you. You like it all. And that scares you a little, but you shouldn’t be because he makes you feel so safe. 

   Yes, safe.

   She pulls her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her pink hoodie, the blanket loosely draped across her shoulders, and then she takes a good look at you, like she’s doing a deep dive into your mind. “How are you doing, really?”

   You let the question simmer, let it bubble inside you as you contemplate exactly what you’ll say. How are you really feeling? Drained, worn down, discarded, hurt. But there’s a chip inside you, one that’s filled with a little warmth, a little healing. A part of you is being stitched back together. One thread at a time. And it’s not because you’re away from that awful house, away from their clawing hands and sharp commands. You think maybe, just maybe, Joel’s healing a teeny tiny part of you. Inside and out. He’s making you whole again. Even in the short amount of time you’ve been here, you think he’s making you brand new. 

   He’s making you feel not so alone. He’s making you feel safe, wanted. He’s giving you wings…

   “I’m hanging in there,” you say quietly, fingers brushing lightly over the fleece blanket. ”Kinda just taking it one day at a time.”

   “It’s been a little over a month now, yeah?” she questions, tilting her head as her brown eyes glisten through the clouds now hanging over the covered porch.

   “Yeah, that’s right,” you nod, eyes wandering back to the big, open field. You could get lost in those sea of trees. Run, disappear forever. But you don’t think you want to anymore. At least, not right now. 

   “How long were you gone for?”

   You fiddle with your bottom lip, wincing at the lost time that’s gone by. “Almost two years. Seems more like ten, if I’m being honest. Time seems to blur together when you’re… Well, when you don’t know if you’ll make it through the night.” 

   A lump forms in the back of your throat, making your eyes a little blurry from the thought of being gone for so long. How had you managed to survive all those days of abuse and torment? How’d you ever get saved by the likes of someone like Joel? Warm, kind, safe. 

   She twirls a strand of her dark curls around her index finger, eyeing you with big sad eyes that make you want to choke out a sob, but you don’t. “I wasn’t gone nearly as long as you. And I can’t imagine what you went through. Two years, that’s… God. I’m so sorry.” Regret fills her eyes, and then she places a hand softly on your shoulder, saying just as much in her touch. 

   “Yeah, I am too,” you say a little dazed as her hand slips away from you, back into her lap.

   You mull over what you’ll say next while your emotions are running rampant. You feel everything all over again. The fear, the blinding pain, the inconsolable ache in your bones that won’t go away. You’ve been scared for so long, so how are you supposed to navigate your way through life again? How are you supposed to go on when the weight of the world rests like cement on your chest?

   Turning your head toward her slowly, you ask something that’s been bothering you. “How do you do it?”

   “Do what?” she questions; her tone gentle and patient.

   “Keep living a normal life,” you whisper, letting your words float across the frigid air, right back to Sarah.

   She shifts in her seat and takes a beat before answering, her voice calm and collected. “I wouldn’t exactly call my life normal. It’s gotten almost to that point, but there’s still days I can hardly get out of bed, nonetheless eat. But my boyfriend, Ryan, helps me when it gets like that. Or I talk to Tess. Have you seen her yet?”

   Tess. That’s right. You forgot about Tess.

   You shake your head. “Not yet.” But you’d really like to.

   “She’s great. She’s really helped. Even my dad sees her sometimes.”

   “Your dad sees her?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

   She nods. “Yeah, she’s actually helped him a lot too with everything. Especially with his line of work. He really needs someone to lean on on the hard days, you know?”

   You let your mind settle on her words, your thoughts turning back and forth over the endless images of Joel’s sleepless nights. The deep shadows under his chocolate eyes. The restless image of him hunched over a laptop with his fingers lacing frustratedly through his dark locks. The late night runs he has to do periodically. The stressful calls he takes right when he’s about to head to bed. The times he’s not home when it’s three in the morning. The pacing back and forth he does when Tommy’s talking to him about a job. But there’s one thing you don’t ever miss. The pain that flares behind his brown irises, blending in with the inky flecks that remind you of dark chocolate. 

   Something hurt him. Something continues to hurt him, and you don’t even know what that something is.

   Jesus. You don’t even know half of what Joel goes through, but you think he might need someone just as badly as you do. Maybe, just maybe, you can be that something he needs because he’s that to you. He’s your foundation when you had nothing.

   “Your dad, what he does, he’s helped so many girls…” you murmur, your voice caught in your throat as you think about everything he’s done specifically for you. But really, it just takes a toll on you thinking of everyone he has saved. He’s… incredible. 

   She smiles, her cheeks bright from the crisp air. ��He’s saved countless lives. And for that, I really couldn’t ask for a better dad.”

   No. She really couldn’t. He is the best dad, and she’s so lucky to have him.

   After a moment of silence passes, she speaks again. “He seems happier lately.”

   Your eyes flick over to hers while your heart does a somersault in your chest. “Really?”

   “Yeah,” she smiles gently. 

   “What makes you say that?” The knot tightens in your stomach, and maybe you’re a little scared of the answer. Was it… was he happier because you were here? No, that couldn’t be possible, could it? 

   “I don’t know,” she laughs, shrugging casually as her hair tumbles past her shoulders. “He just seems lighter, maybe a little brighter. His eyes, they’re a little clearer. I think… I think ever since you came here. Yeah, that’s when I noticed the change.”

   Your eyes widen, lips part in awe. Did she just say… No. You must’ve heard wrong.

   “Me? But I…”

   She stops you mid-sentence and smiles. “He likes your company, like I said. I can tell. He’s never been… Well, he hasn’t been happy in a while. It’s nice to see him smiling for a change.”

   You bite your bottom lip out of habit and curl your fingers into the fleece of the blanket, tossing ideas back and forth in your mind. Maybe he has been smiling more lately. Like on movie night. You’ve never seen him laugh so carefree before. He did seem happier. A little more teasing, maybe even playful in a way. You wanted to see more of that. Carefree Joel is heart stopping.

   “And you think I’m the reason he seems happier?” you laugh, a pang of disbelief flowing through your body. Could you really be the reason he was happier? 

   “I really do,” she confirms with the imprint of a dimple in her cheek, solidifying the question. 

   You’re the reason he’s happier… 

   “Hey, umm. I just wanted to say you can reach out to me anytime. I’m always available if you need a friend,” she smiles, her eyes sincere and warm. “And just know that you’re a survivor. You’re a strong one, and there’s nothing you can’t overcome. Never give up. Keep fighting the long fight. You’ve got this. I believe in you, my dad believes in you, Tommy does too.”

   They believe in you. Joel believes in you. And that in itself means so much to you…

   “Thanks, Sarah. I’m so glad I got to meet you.” A tear forms in the corner of your eye, but you brush it off just as Sarah squeezes your knee in encouragement. 

   Before you can say another word, you hear a shuffling noise by the door. “Hope I didn’t intrude on anything.” Joel slides the glass door open, balancing mugs with two hands and one braced against his flexed arm, making you almost lose your balance at the sight of him. Tall, fitted blue flannel around his muscular arms, slicked back hair with silver streaks glistening even under the cover of a grey cloud. So handsome, so put together, so…

   “Oh, no. Not at all, Dad!” Sarah chimes in, giddy as she reaches for the pink tinted mug in his firm grasp.

   “Thought I’d whip up some hot chocolate for you two. It’s a bit chilly out here. Don’t want ya to catch a cold. Plus, I know how much you like my homemade recipe, Sarah.” He smiles as she takes a big gulp, groaning when she swallows the first taste.

   “Yes! I knew you’d make me your famous hot chocolate. Thanks, Dad. You’re the best.” She throws him a toothy grin and settles back against the swing, kicking her legs carefree while she indulges in the warm hot chocolate, eager for you to try a taste yourself.

   “Here ya go, sweetheart. Reckon you like hot chocolate.” He smiles, reaching his arm out, offering you a warm mug with swirls of steam billowing out the top.

   “Yes.” You extend your arm, palm open with an invitation. And when he slides the cup into your hand, his calloused fingers brush against yours, causing goosebumps to rise on your shivering skin. You gasp, feeling how warm and welcoming his hand feels against yours, but it’s only there a second, the next he’s whisking his arm back to his side. You already miss it—his hand sliding against yours implicitly. 

   Physical contact is not in your book of things that make you feel good anymore. But with Joel? It feels more than right. It feels… perfect. Like his hand was made to brush against yours. Or maybe it was made so he could intertwine his fingers with yours, thread them together like your stitched-up heart. You think you’d like that. One day. And maybe he would too.

   “Put some extra whipped cream and marshmallows in jus’ for you. Know how much you like everything extra sweet.” He gives you a gut-wrenching smile. One that could bring you to your knees. Especially once that dimple forms on the middle of his cheek. 

   God. What did you ever do to be worthy of looking at that angelic face? Carved to perfection, tanned, smooth like his tousled curls. And his eyes. Big pools of warmth that instantly make my insides all fuzzy and warm. 

   “Thanks, Joel. You didn’t have to go through all that extra trouble though,” you smile bashfully, still trying to get a grip on this reality.

   “‘Course I did. You’re worth the extra mile.”

   Your mouth parts at the words. You’re worth the extra mile. Sarah giggles under her breath, but she keeps to herself. But you can’t help but notice her eyes keep roaming from Joel and then back to you. She must see it. See just how much we affect each other. Just one look and you’re melted butter. It just takes one glance from those big brown eyes until you’re nothing but dust in the wind. 

   “Dad makes the best hot chocolate!” She brags, taking another sip of her steaming hot chocolate. “Don’t for a second let him tell you it’s nothing special.”

   But it is special. Every single particle of him is special. How’d you ever get so lucky to be sitting here on his porch, drinking his hot chocolate that he made specially just for you? 

   “You know,” he drawls. “Thanksgiving’s next Thursday.”

   Thanksgiving? How had you forgotten it was Thanksgiving? To be fair, you weren’t really in the mindset to think about holidays. You overlooked Halloween already, what used to be your favorite. 

   “Already?” you laugh uneasily, afraid he’ll be upset you forgot.

   “Sure is,” he chuckles back, but he gives you an encouraging smile, saying you’re just fine. 

   “Dad makes the best cherry pie you’ve ever tasted! I’m so excited,” Sarah squeals excitedly beside you. “Well, I guess everything he makes is the best, but this is to die for!” 

   “Oh?” you ask while Joel nods shyly. “What about blueberry pie?”

   He tilts his head and looks at you a beat before he says, “I can make that, but only if you help me.”

   “You want me to… help you?” you gawk, mouth parted in surprise. You’re not a cook, never really been one in the first place. Do you even remember how to do anything? 

   No… you really don’t.

   He nods as he takes a sip of his warm coffee, brown eyes locked on yours. “Can’t do it without you. Take it or leave it, sweetheart.”

   He’s not making this easy, is he? 

   “Okay,” you break after a beat. “You’ll just have to guide me. I’m not the best at baking.”

   “Well, I’ll jus’ have to teach ya then,” he smirks, sending a wink your way and making you blush all over again.

   “Perfect,” Sarah giggles, like she knows something we don’t. But she’s been watching us like a hawk; silently tapping her talons and sharpening her ears. Maybe she sees the chemistry swirling between us like the smoky fog hovering over the glassy lake. If she does, the only thing that gives her away is her sneaky smile and bright eyes flicking between us.   

   He shakes his head and chuckles under his breath while he leans against the wooden porch fence. One elbow propped lazily up on the edge, his other hand flexed around his royal-blue coffee mug. You follow the map of lines on his forehead, memorizing every crevice, every wrinkle like the constellations in the sky. 

   He catches you staring, which makes you look down, a deep blush burning in your cheeks. But when you look back up, he’s still watching you. Almost like he’s memorizing your face just the same. 

   Soft. His eyes are so soft. Warm, big, his brown irises full of promises of something. It makes your breathing hitch, makes you a little off center. But yet, he keeps watching like he can’t quite believe you’re there, sitting right in front of him too. 

   And it stays just like that until Sarah starts up the conversation again. But he still doesn’t take his eyes off you. It’s almost like he’s just as mesmerized as he makes you feel. 

   There’s a spark, a lapse in time where fireworks go off somewhere in the far distance. You can almost hear the sizzling and booms as they light in the sky. But instead, you hear Joel’s name whooshing around your mind, lighting you up a variety of colors. He painted you a multitude of shades and brought life back in your eyes when all you could see was black and white before. 

   You’ve never seen such pretty shades of brown before until you looked up and saw his eyes. You think he lit you up the very moment you became his that night he saved you…

   “Joel?” you call, a few minutes later when the only sound is the faint rustle of leaves in the distance.

   He turns his head toward you, coffee cup snug in his big hand. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

   You hesitate a second, looking from Sarah and then back to Joel. Yes. You think it’s time. “I think… I think I’m ready to talk to Tess.”

   His brown eyes light up like Christmas lights, a soft smile splaying across his lips which nearly takes your breath away. And the way he’s looking at you? All soft and warm. Well, you think you’ve just fallen all over. “Why don’t you give her a call this week? I’m sure she’d be happy to get you in soon. In fact, I’ll drive you to your appointment. Whenever you’re ready, you can count on me.”

   You can count on me. He’s so reliable, so sweet, so genuinely caring. It makes a smile crack over your lips, makes another wave of warmth rush through your chest, filling you up with sunshine and the hot chocolate he made for you. With extra sugar, you can’t forget that part. 

   When Sarah congratulates you on taking that step forward, Joel can’t help but to smile even bigger and brighter. He even goes so far as mouthing the words “I’m so proud of you” to you through the air. Even though you didn’t hear them, you swear you can taste them as they simmer through the chilly air, along with his thick Southern drawl. 

   And just like that, you’re falling through cloudless skies, crashing down to earth. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore of dying because he’ll be right there waiting to catch you. 

   Later, when Sarah’s gone for the night, you’re wrapped up in your favorite fluffy blanket, knees tucked up underneath you while you silently read under the bright lamp. The fireplace crackles in the corner, making for the perfect night to read in the living room. But this is kind of a ritual now, a normal routine you’ve slipped comfortably into. 

   And then there’s Joel—the man who completes these relaxing nights. He’s here. Right where you need him. He’s perched on the leather couch, his guitar between his legs, gently taking a rag and dusting off the smooth wood, carefully cleaning each string with rapt attention. It’s a little distracting you think—watching his hands slide over the instrument, oh-so-carefully polishing and refining something that seems like it means the world to him. 

   To be honest, this is the first time he’s actually taken the acoustic guitar out of the reading room. He’s never really talked about it before. Which means, it’s something he hides deep inside his chest, careful not to show emotion when he glides over the colorful moth that’s etched in the wood. You think it means a great deal to him, whatever it symbolizes. 

   Putting the book down on your lap, you sit up straighter and muster enough courage to call his name. “Joel?”

   He looks up, his brown eyes crinkling in the corners when he focuses on you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

   “I, umm. I was wondering…” You bite your bottom lip, suddenly nervous as he zeroes in on you, waiting for your question. You muster up enough courage to ask, but you don’t want to overstep. “Would you… Do you think you could play me something?”

   His jaw ticks, his lips quiver as he muddles over your big ask. There’s a glimmer in his eye, a faint recognition of something hiding deep behind those brown pools. Uncertainty, maybe. Or was it just sadness? 

   Grazing the tip of his thumb up one of the strings, he sighs. “Haven’t played in quite some time, sweetheart.” His deep drawl is filled with anguish, and the last thing you want to do is make him sad. 

   Taking back your ask, you whisk it back in. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… You don’t have to…”

   He stops you before you can finish your stammering. “S’alright, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything.” But it feels like you did. After a beat, he huffs out a breath. “I’ll, uhh. I’ll try, sweetheart. For you, I’ll try.”

   Those words mean more to you than he knows. He’ll try for you. That’s all you can ask for. Putting him in a vulnerable position, and he still wants to try? You don’t think you could be more smitten. 

   He straightens his back, mulls a little more over what he’s doing, then he’s placing the guitar carefully over his lap, adjusting his arms as he cradles the instrument like it’s the most fragile things he’s ever touched. 

   You fall silent and watch the way his thick fingers flex, eyebrows thread together, eyes close, lips slowly part. It almost feels like he’s keeping something down—something that’s hurting him, cutting him deep, bleeding him dry. You wish you could sew the wound up, wipe away his invisible scars that only show beneath the surface. You want to take his pain away like he takes yours. 

   After a silent fist fight in his mind, he slowly places his fingers gently on the taut strings and oh-so-carefully begins to play a steady, melancholy tune. You can feel the weary emotion he wears on his face, can see the hurt lined in his weathered stare, can feel the debilitating pain he wears on his slouched shoulders, can even hear the grieving through the deliberate cords he strums. 

   You feel the backs of your eyes burn with held-back tears the longer you watch Joel wear his heart on his flanneled sleeve. And as the melancholy tune carries throughout the stifling room, you feel every single emotion he’s ever poured out into that guitar. That special, one-of-a-kind, gem of a guitar. Whatever it means to him, you see it so clearly now, even if you don’t really know what’s got him so torn up. Was it the moth etched to perfection in the wood, or was it the person that gave him that guitar. Or, had he lost someone, too?

   When he plays the last note, his jaw goes slack, and he lays the guitar flat on his lap, his thumb slowly tracing the edge of the little moth. Tears well in his big brown eyes, but he doesn’t dare let one fall. He holds them back, like the strong man he is. But strong men are allowed to break too. And right now, you’re fighting every single particle in your body not to tiptoe over and fall into his arms. 

   Joel deserves that. Someone to take his pain away, lock their arms around his neck and promise him that he’ll be okay. Just like he promised you…

   He looks up slowly, steadily, his head still hanging low, but his eyes meet yours for a brief second. It almost kills you to see those big, sappy brown eyes lathered in such sadness. Makes you want to just rush into his arms and never let go. 

   Who hurt Joel? That’s what you want to know. Who tore his heart from his chest and ripped it in two? 

   You slowly peel yourself off the couch, leaving your book open, laying face down in the blanket. You silently tiptoe over to him, careful not to disturb his sulking, keeping your eyes glued to the way he’s brushing the pads of his fingers against the scarred strings. He’s got his heart spilled all over them like black ink. 

   Carefully, you slide in next to him, fully aware you’re about to play Russian roulette in the next few seconds. “That was beautiful. The song you played,” you whisper out, afraid you’ll shatter his glass box that’s cased around him. 

   He shifts against the leather, dragging his thumb smoothly across the polished wood. A sad smile crosses his lips, but it doesn’t meet his darkened eyes. “I uhh… I wrote that for someone. Someone who meant a lot to me…” The pain in his strained voice is etched in his clenched jaw, his palms a little shaky as he speaks. 

   You almost reach your hand out for his, but you think better of it. Someone did hurt him. Or maybe, he lost them… “Joel, that’s… that’s…” You can’t even finish your sentence without your own voice cracking. What could you say to that? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

   He rasps out a sigh and slumps his broad shoulders a bit more, one hand dragging over his silvery scruff, all the way across his mouth. And his eyes. Still glistening with held-in tears. 

   Oh, Joel… 

   “Do you want to talk about it?” you ask bravely, clenching your fingers as the words leave your lips. 

   Sniffling, he murmurs, “Not tonight. Not right, at least.” 

   You let his words simmer, let them soak into your sweater until you feel it’s safe to respond again. Shifting just a little closer, you brush your fingers just inches away from his hand, enough to where he might be able to feel the warmth coming from your palm. “Joel?”

   “Hm?” he hums, his deep bravado echoing around the room. 

   Your fingers dance closer, just enough to lick flames from your skin. If you were brave enough, you’d thread your fingers through his until he let you take away some of his held-in pain. “You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything.”

   He lets out a breath and slowly looks up at you. His eyes are hazy, a little cloudy with the fog from his watery eyes. It makes pain flood inside your chest. You freeze when he brushes his knuckles gently down your cheek, a light touch that means he appreciates you when words surely fail him in this moment. And then there’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the center of his gravity, making a tear leak from the corner of your eye. But of course, he wipes it away before you can blink. 

   “Thank you, sweet girl,” he smiles, letting his thumb trace your jawline before he snaps his hand back to his side. And there you go, wishing his warm palm was still lingering across your skin. 

   The way he touches you—it’s not sexual. Not in the least bit. It’s warm, filled with so much care and attention. Just like the special recipes he conjures up in the kitchen. It’s filled with extra care. And God, how he cares for you. Just like you care for him…

   He stares at you for a beat, crystallized brown flecks dancing across your vision, soaking you up like you want to do with his pain. He tilts the guitar against the leather couch and lets his palm drag down it, eyes flicking back and forth from it to you repeatedly. He looks like he wants to tell you something. Maybe the reason he’s hurting?

   Please, Joel. Give me your pain. 

   Once he’s settled his mind, he blinks a couple times and looks at you with hurt-filled eyes. He focuses on a strand of your hair, lets his fingers fall over the silky surface while you hold your breath from the contact. And he fixates on it while his mouth twitches to let the words he really wants to set free out. “The reason I haven’t played in so long is because… Because I…”

   You hold your breath, waiting for that something to come tumbling from his lips like an old wound he just won’t let go of. But before he can finish, his phone starts ringing off the hook, deflecting him from the one secret he was about to share with you. The one thing you might’ve been able to remotely help him with. 

   Pulling his phone free from the front pocket of his denim jeans, he sighs, carding his free hand through his slicked-back curls. You get the faint view of Tommy’s name scrolled across the screen which means it’s probably going to be another late night for Joel. He deserves a break. He works too hard, pushes himself past his limits most nights. He deserves someone to stop the madness for just one single night. 

   Could you stop it? Press pause on the world for just one night? Just long enough for him to get a decent night’s rest. The dark circles beneath his tired eyes never go unnoticed. He’s got so much weight on his shoulders, so much baggage to pull around. Would he let you take some of that weight off, just for one night? 

   Groaning, he pushes off the edge of the couch and stands, his thumb hovering over the answer button. “I’ve gotta take this,” he mumbles heavily, dragging all his pent-up frustration and pain right back on his shoulders. But before he clicks the button and walks away, you recklessly reach your arm out and wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling the thick flannel just enough to get his attention. 

   Stay, Joel. Don’t go. That’s what you really want to tell him, but you’ve said enough through your rampant movements.

   Looking down at your closed hand around his wrist, he lets the phone keep ringing, just stares into your eyes while his big, wide brown irises cross with yours. There’s a hesitation there, a moment in time where everything just stops. It’s just you and him for the second, the flickering embers that crackle like pop rocks in the flames of the fireplace. 

   Parting his lips in awe, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, tears pooling in the backs of his irises, you think he might crack right on the spot. But the world begins to spin again, bringing you back to the present where his phone continues to ring and ring and ring repeatedly. 

   Don’t answer it, Joel. Let it go to voicemail. Stay. Stay with me. But the disappointment bubbles up inside you the moment he clicks the green button to life, letting Tommy’s voice slip through the end of the receiver. “Yeah?” His voice cracks, strains as he swipes at his teary eyes. It makes you crack just the same.

   Just when you let a puff of air leave your lips, he fills the empty space by just a smidge. Slowly, carefully, he reaches over and cups the back of your head affectionately, letting his fingers linger in your hair, tangling for just a second as he fights to pull away. He’s talking on the phone, nodding his head and repeating what Tommy says, but his wide eyes are tethered to yours in a wave of emotions tossing through his beautiful brown eyes. He’s said enough in that touch, even as he pulls away. He’s saying thank you, that he appreciates you being here, that he revels in the way you’re trying. He’s trying to let his walls down too. Just enough to let you creep in and slip into the parts he keeps tucked away, afraid to show just how vulnerable he is too.

   Taking one more good look at you, he snaps his hand back inside his pocket and disappears around the corner, leaving you alone with the flickering fireplace and solid guitar next to the now empty couch. 

   You close your eyes and let your head fall back into the cushions, tucking your knees against your chest as you blow out a heavy breath. You were this close to getting a glimpse into his mind. And now? You didn’t know if you’d get that chance again.

   Joel… He barely touched you, barely grazed his fingers across your skin. But that last touch? The way he ran his hand down your hair and cupped the back of your head? That was everything all at once. He was everything. Gentle, kind, and so very soft. 

   You don’t know how long you stay there, but it’s long enough that you’ve faded off to sleep. Long enough that you feel him slip his strong arms around your body and carry you back to bed in the early morning hours of dawn. This time you don’t fight the need to sleep; you just curl into his chest for those few short, blissful seconds, breathing in his woodsy scent until he tucks you safely into bed. And you don’t miss that same brush of knuckles across your cheek before darkness takes a hold of your body. The last thing you remember is hearing his soothing Southern drawl whisper sweet nothings through the air.

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[hw4-l1z]

OMG I JUST REMEMBERED YOU DO ATEEZ TOO

CAN YOU DO OT8 BP! HEADCANONS LIKE YOU DID WITH SKZ

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

BOYPUSSY SUPREMACY 🛐 made myself horny writing the last part 🥲

Sub!bp!Ateez x Dom!gn!Reader

Cw: gender neutral but reader has a dick//boypussy// pussy eating// fingering// use of toys// lingerie// unprotected sex// squirting// overstimulation// bondage// face sitting// thigh riding// public sex// slight dollification// bit of power!bottom!seonghwa

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Hongjoong

Cutest most sensitive pussy ever

He'll always trap your hand between his legs whenever you play with him

You know how sensitive he is so you'd always rub his clit in gentle circles which gets him SO wet

Anytime you do something he finds hot or even if you're teasing him then he'd clamp his thighs together as he feels his panties starting to soak through

And my god he get WET

If he was sitting on your thigh whilst you tried to tease him he'd end up leaving a wet patch behind on your thigh

Sometimes it's so bad he has to actually change his clothing before anyone else but you notices it

It's why he begs you not to do anything when he's in outfits given to him by the staff since it's not his

He has quite a big clit with a hood which you'd surprised at the amount of other guys he's been with STILL couldn't find it...

But you'd always be right on point with it

I would imagine he had quite a bit of hair on top

Not like a bush but still quite a fair amount

He can squirt but it takes alot of time and effort to make him do it so you never do it unless you REALLY want to see him squirt

Salty in taste but you'd absolutely devour him cause you love how he tastes

Seonghwa

OHHHH MOTHERRRRRRRR

He'd wear such BEAUTIFUL panties

Only for them to get completely soaked through...but HEY that's what washing machines are for

Let's just start of to say...he does squirt but like hongjoong it takes him some times to get there

So more of a creamer but god he looks beautiful when he cums

Lip sucked between his teeth, eyes dazed and glossy, back arched as his hips jerk a little

Will moan so pretty for you as you eat him out.

One hand circling his bud whilst the other grips his thighs harshly

You'd eat him like he was your last meal on earth

His clit is small but sensitive asf

He's usually clean shaven but will sometimes let some hair grow out

He likes to shave it into certain styles though if he's keeping the hair

I'd see him more on the brownish side

Like a light brownish colour

He tastes sweet though and you LOVE it

Sometimes you like to make it taste even sweet by rubbing a lollipop between his folds and eating him out after

He can definitely still be on the more dominant side

That pussy can drive you crazy 😵‍💫

He's so tight

And he clenches around you even more when your cock is inside of him

He sends you into another world when he's riding you

He's sooooo fucking good at riding you cock

He'll force about 4 loads out of you before he's even cum once

He likes it raw

Sorry actually

He LOVES it raw

Wants you to fill him to the brim everytime

You'll always need towels under you when fucking cause it gets messy

Your cum mixed with his own release oozing out of him at once

If he's riding you, you'd feel it dripping down your cock and balls

The pussy is FIREEEEE

Yunho

Bald, slender pussy 😋

And oh he is just MADE for your cock

His walls wrap so perfectly around you

Squeezing so tight as you take him apart

Pillow princess part 1.

Let's you do all the work since he gets too weak and sensitive the minute you start touching his pussy

Shakes when he cums

He doesn't get superrrr wet but still enough for your finger to glide between his slit

Tastes like PUSSY

You swear the scent and taste of it is like some kind of drug

Your eyes rolling back as you turn into a fucking animal

Growling and snarling as you vigorously eat him out

The way he reacts to his clit being touched or rubbed is SO adorable

You love to make him cum multiple times with a vibrator held firmly to against his bud

Creamerrrrr

He releases so much cream when he cums

He's not a squirter unfortunately, you've tried many times

Yeosang

Ohhhh make him wear so many cute lingerie sets

He's so embarrassed when wearing them but he knows how much you love it

You'd always ravage him when he's in pretty clothes for you

And especially seeing that little wet patch on the panties

Drives you CRAZY

His smell is quite strong but AMAZING

Makes you feel like your going into rut once you catch a scent of his arousal once his panties are off

Sweet in taste

Too much will make you feel full

SO tight

You've tried stretching him more to get him to loosen up a bit more

But it doesn't work

Always needs a few minutes once you're inside him to adjust

You love how much he tightens even more when he cums

Loves to ride your thigh

Will make a wet mess on thigh

PINK

Cutest pussy ever

Small clit that's very sensitive

Can squirt but it doesn't happen often

Probably waxes, I don't see him being hairy down there at all

San

Where do I even start...

Veryyy sensitive and produces so much slick

His panties are ruined because of how wet he gets all the time

Waxes but sometimes has a small triangle patch of hair when he can't be bothered waxing fully

It's definitely pink

Squirts only when you eat him out or finger him

He's SO good at riding your cock

It's like pure ecstasy

He's got some strength to his legs so he can bounce on it for quite a while until he gets tired

So so so squirmy when you play with him

Holding his hips down against the bed as you fuck him with your fingers

He looks so cute struggling to move :(

Tie him up and tease the fuck out of his pussy

Using vibrators and dildos on him as he just sits there and cries unable to do anything

Would love to ride your face and cum all over it

Rocking his hips back and forth on your tongue as he moans so loud at the feeling

Mingi

Pillow princess part 2.

Will just lay there and let you do whatever you want to him

Usually has no hair but when he does he decides to experiment with it to make it looks pretty

He's dyed it pink before and you thought it was actually quite cute

Although he tried to bleach it blonde once and...yeah bad idea. It hurt alot for him

Shy but a huge cockslut

He's always horny for you and wants you to fuck him almost everywhere you guys are

But he's always do shy about asking

He's almost like a doll when fucking

He's so limp like he's just your doll to fuck whenever you please

You can do anything you want and he won't complain about it

He just lays there whimpering and moaning

You realized why he's so limp all the time one day though

It's because of how sensitive he is inside his pussy

Your cock hits all those prefect spots and makes him weak

You found this out when you fucked him in one of those mini bathroom stalls and he had to stand up for it

He was bent over the little sink as you pounded his hole from behind

His legs kept on giving out and you were basically holding him up the entire time or else he would've ended up on the floor

You found it adorable how weak he got

Pretty pink and sickly sweet

Wooyoung

Pillow princess part 3.

Only does nothing cause he's a brat and wants you to put the work in

So when you're punishing him you lay back and make him do all the work

He can't refuse it either since he's incredibly horny and has nothing else to help him but you

Gets tired so quickly

He's just not used to having to do all the work

He'll end up begging you to fuck him eventually

He's bitter-sweet in taste but you'd never miss a chance to get your mouth on him

Don't see him as a squirter tbh

Big clit big nose 😼

Turns into putty in your hands as soon as your cock is in him

Acts like a brat yet is a little whiny bitch when you fuck him into the mattress

Basically tried to make you suffocate when you eat his pussy

He doesn't mean to but it just feels too good he can't help but push your face into his core and squeezes your head between your thighs

Jongho

Chubby pussy 🙏

He's so cute and sensitive

Super shy super shy

He wants to moan so loud when you eat him out but he's too shy

He just bites his lip and grips your hair tighter

You LOVEA when he sits on your face but he's so scared incase he suffocates you or something

But that's what you want

So once he's finally straddled over your face you slowly pull his hips down until his pussy is flush against your tongue

You get so carried away and pull him down further whilst keeping his thighs locked in place with your arms

Rides your thigh almost all the time

It's his favourite thing to do

It just feels SO good on his little clit. He'll cum everytime

He's so incredible sensitive and cries everytime you fuck that he actually prefers anything but penentraition

Doesn't mean you never get it or it's necessarily a rare thing but he just gets so overwhelmed and he feels pathetic

Doesn't help that the lack of being inside him drives you a little crazy so when you do fuck, you're rough

It doesn't hurt, it's just too much for him to handle

You can rip about 3 orgasms out before you've even came once

Arms wrapped around him tightly as his heads buried into your shoulder

Fucking him so hard and deep whilst he just sobs

FUCK I'M MAKING MYSELF HORNY BYE-

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[nerdygirlramblings]

omegaverse 141

a/n part of this once again inspired by @dragonnarrative-writes and their comment on a previous chapter. also, if you have ideas for a title, that'd be great 😂

cw: a/b/o dynamics and typical omegaverse breeding (m! and f! omegas can get pregnant) mentioned

previous

In the interim between your meeting with Captain Price and dinner with the task force you call your family pack. You know your moms and dad will give you their honest opinions, and right now you want that more than anything.

"Hey pretty girl," Dad says when he picks up the video call. "Everything okay? You usually don't call on a weekday unless we've planned it." For a moment you simply take in his smile and the way he's trying to reassure you.

You deflect. "How are you feeling, Dad?" He's carrying another litter, and after losing the last two, you know how important it is to everyone that this one is successful.

"Your moms have pretty much put me on bed rest," he says, rolling his eyes. "But you called us, honey, what's going on?"

You sigh. This is what you called them for. "Well, I wanted your opinion on something," you tell him.

"Just my opinion, or do you want the moms' too?"

You tell him you want everyone's opinion, so he moves through your childhood home to where your moms are, each room he passes drawing forth another bittersweet memory that has you missing him and your pack even more.

He finds your moms in your childhood bedroom, being transformed into a nursery, again. He sits on the rocking chair you remember, the one that floated between the three kids' bedrooms each time there was a new litter. Once your moms are standing behind Dad, you tell everyone about the offer to join Price's task force, and by extension his pack.

The more you tell them, the more your mind snags on how appealing being part of a pack is. But you can't help but be scared of the implications of that desire. Despite how Price laid things out, it's going to be hard enough to prove you're worthy of being on the 141, and if you become part of their pack, you'll never escape the talk about sleeping your way on the task force.

Your parents can tell your mind is somewhere else when you hear Mum insert your name into Bowie's "Space Oddity."

"Sorry, Mum. Wha' was i'?"

"I was just saying this - the task force, I mean - sounds like a great career opportunity. But I can't abide how much more danger this puts you in."

Mama adds, "Sounds like this alpha knew how to broach this. Didn't cock it up. And I agree with Mum, this is much more dangerous than what yer doing now. But sweetie, ya didn't see yerself when ya talked about what this would mean ya you. And what doors it might open for other omegas like your brother."

You tear up. Both your moms see this for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity it is. You notice no one's mentioned the other half of Price's offer. "Dad?" you prompt, "Wha' da you think?"

Dad watches you for a few minutes, smiling but sad: you can see it in his eyes. "I think you need to say yes, honey. Even if it scares us more, i's the right thing fer you." Your moms don't chime in; they don't need to. But you need want their thoughts on becoming a pack omega, Dad's in particular.

"And the other part?" you ask quietly, looking away.

"Honey, becoming pack omega fer yor moms was one of the hardest and easiest decisions I ever made. I love yer moms," you watch their faces through his declaration, both putting a comforting hand somewhere on him, "and they gave me all of you pups. If Price is as good an alpha as he is a Captain, if 'e's a guiding hand for his pack, then you couldn't have a better mate. In the end, trust your omega."

And that's the crux of the matter isn't it. Your omega has been scratching at your hind brain all afternoon because she wants to take Price up on both offers as soon as possible, but you need to be smart about optics and your career.

You tell your parents you love them and thank them for their honesty, promising to tell them what you decide before the ink dries. You end the call with a few minutes to spare before dinner and take that time to pull your emotions together.

next

[oceanicwriting]

you... love me?

part one. part two.

summary: one afternoon, while you're going home from work, you run into that man who had become a complete stranger in your life. how much had things changed? how much could you remember from that encounter?

pairing(s): theodore nott x fem!reader

a/n: this is part two of another story that's addressed above. you don't need to read the first one, but you might like it! i really liked this ending :-).

maybe angst...

ㅤㅤㅤ—mattheo's an asshole —hellen, your best friend, whines on the other end of the phone—. i swear i had no idea he'd invited everyone, including...

ㅤㅤㅤ—you don't have to worry. —you try to sound calm, but you weren't calm at all—. it's been a long time since we last saw each other. we must be over it, right?

ㅤㅤㅤ—that's the question i should ask you, don't you think?

ㅤㅤㅤit's been three and a half years since you last saw your ex-boyfriend from school who, at the last moment of the relationship, ended up being a complete stranger. so many things happened in the last months of the relationship that, after ending due to the tiredness of the repetitive arguments, avoiding him was a game in which you became an expert.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm completely over it. —you lie, stopping the supermarket cart in the fruit section.

ㅤㅤㅤ—of course. —the voice of your friend on the other end of the line extends the letter o, making you roll your eyes—. is that why you haven't been with anyone since then?

ㅤㅤㅤ—because i haven't wanted to, hellen —you answer, laughing as you grab some apples to put in the bag.

ㅤㅤㅤ—do you really think i've believed you every time you tell me that? i feel like you're always waiting for him. you want him to show up in your life as a completely different person, but every time i try to talk about him with you, you...

ㅤㅤㅤin the middle of the speech, one of the apples slips out of your hands, rolling across the neat floor of the supermarket until it hits the feet of a man on the other side of the displays. you turn around, still hearing your friend's voice prattling about everything that's wrong with your love life, but as soon as that man turns to pick up the apple, the entire world succumbs to silence.

ㅤㅤㅤbrown hair, messy and wavy, falling over his pale forehead. those blue eyes, hidden behind long, almost sleepy, drooping eyelashes, are glued to yours. you had the feeling that he had grown taller, or perhaps it was the musculature that widened his shoulders. he was well dressed in a black suit and long coat that gave him an overly adult air.

ㅤㅤㅤ—theodore —you say, perplexed.

ㅤㅤㅤ—yes, i'm talking about theodore. are you listening to me...?

ㅤㅤㅤ—hellen, i'll call you later.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore hasn't moved, and you have the feeling that he's as stunned as you are by the materialization of your body in front of him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—hello. —the sound of his voice hasn't stopped affecting your heart rate, giving you goosebumps with the simple, carefree greeting—. you look... good.

ㅤㅤㅤyou smile, unable to do anything else in the face of the comment.

ㅤㅤㅤ—miss, could you let me pick some apples? —an adult lady with more wrinkles than you could imagine appears next to you, forcing you to move your cart—. thank you.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore has also moved, being closer to each other. in your nose, you can feel the scent of his body hit hard, making you smell the air around you more than necessary.

ㅤㅤㅤ—this is yours —he says, extending the apple that was in his hand.

ㅤㅤㅤ—yes, thank you...

ㅤㅤㅤyour hands wrap around the fruit, brushing your fingertips against theodore's skin. it was as cold as you remembered, rough as unused sandpaper and electrifying as it had always been. everything felt so familiar that a current of panic runs through your spine.

ㅤㅤㅤ—what are you doing here? —you ask, feeling your voice shoot out in a fear-filled question—. i mean, here, in london.

ㅤㅤㅤand you weren't going to lie because more than once, you heard the voices of his friends saying that he was still in italy.

ㅤㅤㅤ—work and mattheo's engagement party —he says. with each word that left his lips, the air became lighter, allowing you to lower your defenses—. who knew he would be the first to get engaged?

ㅤㅤㅤyou laugh softly, noticing how theodore doesn't take his eyes off your happy expression. maybe after a long time things were different for both of you and you had to make the effort to disassociate your last experiences with him.

ㅤㅤㅤ—hellen can be very insistent when she wants to. —your whole body reacts to the smile you swore had gotten over, but he manages to send all kinds of sensations to your body—. you...? would you come with me? i still have things to buy.

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore looks at you, calm. his eyes have not left yours at any time, and you are sure that everyone has started to look at you strangely for standing there. then, he nods, making you release all the air you have been holding in your lungs.

ㅤㅤㅤas you wander around the supermarket you discover that theodore is still working as an astronomy teacher at the italian school of wizards and witches, he hasn't seen the boys since he left but they write letters to each other frequently, and he's had more than two partners since he finished school.

ㅤㅤㅤ—how about you? —he asks, picking up your bags to help you with them to the exit door—. are you going with someone to the engagement party?

ㅤㅤㅤand it's a moment, small as an ant against the planet, that you have the memory of that conversation between you. you remember how theodore dreamed of seeing you wear a white dress, walking to the altar where he would wait for you, surrounded by the people you loved and full of emotion. that had happened that year of your relationship, where everything was dyed pink before burning to ashes.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i... i'll go alone —you answer, unable to look at him because of the shame. theodore had gotten over you, and you had waited for him for a long time in the hopes of finding a new man—. thanks for carrying the bags.

ㅤㅤㅤhe could notice the way your uneasy gaze falls to the ground, handing over the bags and feeling the current from your body pass through his.

ㅤㅤㅤ—you're welcome.

ㅤㅤㅤand the truth of the matter is that not seeing each other for so long, right after breaking up the way you did, hadn't given way for either of you to grow. it's like you've both stopped in time because something was still tying you so tightly that moving forward was impossible. you turn around, ready to walk to the opposite side of theodore, but his voice stops you.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i lied to you. —he's firm, chasing away any trace of fear that blooms in the darkness of the sky—. i lied to you when i said that i've had partners in these years. since you left me, i haven't been able to move forward with my life.

ㅤㅤㅤyou turn to see him, noticing his blue eyes shining with honesty.

ㅤㅤㅤ—because you were right. —that makes you frown—. when someone loves you, they trust. when someone loves you, they listen. and if i loved you... i should never have done all the harm i did to you. and i know that i didn't love you, not like i should have.

ㅤㅤㅤ—theo...

ㅤㅤㅤ—and i waited all these years for you to come back like every time we argued when we were younger —he says, laughing bitterly—. that shows that i haven't been able to change.

ㅤㅤㅤeven though his words were loaded with a farewell, instead of shedding tears for the beating of your heart, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i have to learn to love, and i'm sure i couldn't do it with you, because after a long time, i was still waiting for you to come back as if nothing had happened.

ㅤㅤㅤ—and i was hoping you'd come back a different man, theodore —you admit, smiling melancholy—. if you had said what i wanted to hear, i don't think anything would have stopped me from accepting it. would we have ended up in the same circle as years ago? no?

ㅤㅤㅤtheodore nods, letting out a long sigh.

ㅤㅤㅤ—i'm happy we can accept it —you say, smiling at the way all your fears have disappeared, and not because of his presence, but because you've cut that tie that bound you two—. i feel like i can move on with my life now.

ㅤㅤㅤhe agrees, and you both smile one last time before walking in your directions. sometimes, two people who love each other aren't made to be together, even if they feel so strongly attracted to each other. theodore and you loved each other a lot, but at the same time, you managed to understand that a life together wasn't for you.

dedicated to @lorenzozurzolocanruinmylife, sorry if it isn't what you expected, and i hope you like it! xoxo

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. abuse is depicted in this one right off the bat,ptsd/nightmares, panty sniffing, face sitting, over stim, biting, squirting, i think our wolf just hates us okay? because everytime i write her, she comes out so mean.

please click this link! each click helps me earn some extra money, as well as each person that clicks the link and signs up (its completely free, and takes 0 time), a completely harmless way to earn some extra cash that doesn't involve giving me any of your own!

happy new years :) feel free to send thots/ideas to my inbox for these babes (or even for the other 141 fellas)

series masterlist here.

PART THREE: hurts si’

“You dumb bitch, look what you did!” Glass clattered and a hand made contact with your face, causing something to drop from your hands as they flew to your face for protection, a whimper leaving your puckered lips as sharp shards scatter about the ground and imbed in the skin of your legs, stinging. “Are you fuckin’ dropping shit now? Huh?” Another blow, this one landing on your ear, causing it to ring and your eyes to blur for a moment as you wobbled on the balls of your feet, swaying from side to side. The man yelling at you was larger than you, older. His breath was hot and sour as he screamed in your face, his words sounding a million miles away as you tried to focus. What had you done this time? It wasn’t you that had knocked over the glass of water..you weren’t even near that side of the table..it was all your brother, all the boy who sat and watched as your father threatened to beat you black and blue again for something that you didn’t do. 

The ringing becomes too much, you fall to your knees and groan, head pounding and eyesight blurry, you barely notice the shards of whatever dish had fallen from your hands pushing further into the skin of your shins as you sink to the rough wood floor of the kitchen. 

“...OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR, OMEGA!” He screamed, your hearing seeming to come back around, or maybe he just bellowed loud enough to overpower the ringing..you shook violently, fear and pain ringing through your body as he grabbed you by the hair on your scalp, dragging you across the ground, pushing the sharp bits of glass deeper into your skin..you would have to go digging to get them out now..

“No!NO! Papa, Papa please!” Your voice was frantic, shrill eyes wide as they finally focused enough to comprehend where he was pulling you off to, the familiar dingey wooden door of your own personal hell hole coming into sight. You’d only just been allowed out after..you couldn’t even remember how long..long enough that the days blurred together and you couldn’t tell how many tomorrows had come and passed. “No! I’ll be good, i’ll be good!” You clawed at his arm above you, trying desperately to pry his alpha strength off of your head, kicking your legs in an effort to slow him down, to buy yourself enough time to talk him out of it. 

“There’s no such thing as a good Omega, you’re living proof!” He growls, throwing open the deadbolt to the door before swinging it open. The darkness awaiting you seemed thicker than usual. “You all deserve to be punished! To be hid, to be locked away and never looked at again! You deserve to be treated like the runts and vermin you fucking are! Your mother tricked me into thinking that she was sweet and innocent, that she needed me to protect her, to fill her with little alpha pups, and then she gave me you! And then you killed her when you breathed life and stole hers, and i saw you for what you are, nothing but a conniving, evil monster!” He held your hair tightly at the top of the stairs, forcing you to look up into his eyes as he ranted at you, for something that you didn’t even remember. Weren’t capable of remembering..

He raised you off of your feet and your eyes widened, a shrill plea leaving your chest “NO, NO! N-AHHGH!”

Simon lay in bed, hands balled into fists behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling, the moon dancing across it as it shined through his window, jaw clenched as he listened to you whimper and moan through the thin wall separating your room from his. His senses were on high alert, his wolf haywire in his mind. It took every ounce of self control he had not to jerk off to the smell of you, once he started he knows he probably wouldn’t ever stop, not until he’d had the real thing and not just the thought of you. He knew that his cock was probably going to be perpetually hard now, never going to go down until he’d stuffed the meaty length of it into your sweet smelling cunt, not until he’d fucked it good and stuffed it full of his pups would he even be able to think like a normal alpha again. 

The smell of you was intoxicating. It flooded his senses and over powered his mind. You were sweet smelling, decadent he could even say. He had noted it before you’d been in heat but now that you were, even in just the beginning stages, it was more powerful, more endearing and mouth watering. It was enough to make a man forget how to behave. It was enough to drive an Alpha into delirium, to trigger his own rut. 

He grit his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to think about anything other than you, shoving a knife into someone's chest, pizza and a cheap pint, johnny- no! Not that scottish prick! His wolf howled and he grunted, fisting his own hair just to feel something to keep himself grounded. Johnny wouldn’t shut his trap, his intrusive thoughts and his lack of a thought process allowing him to just blurt out how good you smelled, he could just hear his voice in his head, could hear him “Bet that lit’le cunt is nie’ n warm, wet ‘n sloppy, eh LT? Smells like a fookin’ dream..” He was just shooting up in bed with a growl at imaginary Johnny when your scream pierced his ears, his bedroom door slammed against the wall, ricocheting as he busted through yours after flying down the hallway, practically ripping it off of its hinges. He looked around wildly, looking for any sign of an intruder, ready to fight off some stray Alpha or Beta that might have followed your pheromones from town in hopes of mating and breeding you against your will in the middle of the night. 

He saw nobody, saw nothing but you thrashing wildly in the middle of the king sized bed you had built your nest upon, spotting the hoodie he’d shrugged off of his body and laid in the middle of your spot while you took a hot bath earlier in the day, satisfied that he could leave you alone with something to scent to help calm you down. He had paid enough attention in Omega anatomy class to remember that that was something that you guys craved, and just the scent of a strong Alpha could help ease the pain wrought by your heat. You were in pain, he decided, that was why you had screamed as you had, there was nothing for him to protect you from, nothing for him to keep you safe from in your vulnerable state. 

He had just wrestled his wolf back from the forefront of his mind and was slowly backing away from your bed and back towards the hallway when you let loose another scream, this one was one of pure terror. You were sat straight up in bed, his fight or flight triggered, he throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around you as he throws you back down, tucking you into his body as he looses a mean growl, baring his teeth as he looked all about, trying to find what you were so terrified of. 

“No!NO!” You screamed, thrashing and bucking under him, your eyes squeezed shut. He looks down at you, wolf going crazy. “Help her! HELP HER YOU BIG DUMB OAF CAN’T YOU SEE SHE’S SCARED?!” His wolf whimpered, howled, only making Simon’s heart race more as he tried to form a coherent thought. 

“Rosie..” He grunted, patting your face lightly,  still clutching you to his body as best as he could, legs on either side of you as he hovered over you on the bed. “Rosie, lovie, wake up-wake up, lovie..” He patted your face, again, a little harder this time and your eyes finally fluttered, looking up at him. 

“S’mon?” You whispered, hands clutching the chest of his tank top from where your arms were trapped between the both of your bodies, unable to move with his weight pressed against yours. “Had a bad dream..”

He sighs, head leaning down so his forehead is touching yours, noses brushing against each other. “I know, lovie, i know.” He says after a moment, shifting his body so that you’re laying on top of him, using his chest and shoulders as a pillow, legs entwined with his own. All thoughts of breeding you gone and out the window for now, his only thought and instinct to keep you safe. “Not goin’ anywhere okay? Gonna stay right 

‘ere an’ keep you safe..” 

And he did, letting you doze back off on top of him, his mind still reeling as he tried to imagine exactly what had happened in that head of yours to make you scream with such terror, to have you so scared that he could feel your body shaking. He wanted, no he needed to know so that he could make sure you were never scared of it again. So he could take it and obliterate it for ever making you feel anything but safe under the same roof as him. 

Eventually, his wolf and his mind calmed down and he was able to lull himself into a light sleep of his own, his arms not moving from around you. 

You wake to a warmth spread from your head to your toes, a dampness to your skin that had you wriggling out of your sleep shirt with eyes closed still, not registering the soft body beneath you until you went to plop your head back down and it didn’t sink into the soft down of your pillow, but the scraggly hairs of a muscular, wide chest that was poking out of the top of a gray tank top, the kind a man would wear under his tshirt if he wanted the extra layers, or sleep in, you supposed. You knew immediately that it was Simon and as if on cue your wolf fought her way to to the front of your mind, your aching cunt clenching around nothing but your sopping panties as you realized that your mound wasn’t too far from where his cock would be, your leg thrown over his waist, held there by one of his large, meaty hands gripping your equally meaty thigh. 

“Look at him, our pretty Alpha..so handsome, so strong..” She wasn’t wrong, he was pretty. His skull mask was nowhere to be found, and to say it was strange to not see it adorned on his face would be an understatement, but it wasn’t unwelcomed. “Want to give him pretty little pups, let him fill us, please, please, please! I’ll be so good! I promise!” You groan, trying to shut her voice out, though it was hard to do. At this stage, your mind belonged to her, this was her time, and you had always let it be, but you hadn’t had an Alpha home during your heat in..awhile. 

You let your eyes roam over his face for a while, failing to notice the way his breathing changes as he fully wakes up, aware of your gaze. He has such a strong jaw, a strong, handsome face, sweet looking even, you would say, despite the scars lingering along his pale skin. Your lips quiver at the realization that someone had probably put them there and that thought alone made you want to cry because how could anyone ever want to hurt this perfect specimen of an alpha? His nose is terribly crooked, as if it had been broken on more than one occasion..you would know, yours had been broken at least three times that you remembered. You wanted to sit on it. To feel his nose brush against your aching, throbbing clit, to feel his scruff of a beard that had grown over night against the apex of your thighs, leaving beard burn as he fucks you with his wet, strong tongue. 

You don’t notice that your hips are bucking against the side of his hard stomach, don’t realize you’ve whimpered until his hand squeezes your thigh, fingers marking the skin from the way that he grips at it, brown eyes suddenly shot open and staring you down, full lips tugged into a wicked smirk. 

“Easy there, babygirl..” He grunts, voice thick and raspy after not having used it for a bit. 

You pout at his words,  wolf whimpering. The desperate noise leaves your throat and you feel no shame as your hips buck again, needing the friction. 

“Hurts Si’..” You whimper, not giving a damn to ask why he was in your bed in the first place. You remembered having a nightmare, remembered him vaguely waking you from it. You assume he had stayed to make sure you were okay. “Need you..need you to help me, Simon..please?” 

He closes his own eyes at your words, fingers digging further into the fat of your thigh, as if he’s trying to control himself. You don’t want him to, you want hm to lose control, to use you in any way he saw fit, you wouldn’t fight him, would be as pliable for him as you could possibly be, you just wanted to breathe in his scent, suck his cock into your aching pussy for a bit..like a chew toy for the wolf taking over your mind. 

You can’t help but to giggle for a second at the thought, you couldn’t help but to think that his cock was probably big enough to pose as a chew toy anyway, no way you could get your mouth all the way around it if he let suck it. 

“Rosi-”

“Simonnn” You preen, pouting at him and you can just feel the resolve break. Oh! What a good Alpha, not making us beg! “Please help me..hurts..need you so bad..please!”

A growl bubbles in his chest and you could how in excitement knowing you’ve won, “Fine!” Knowing he’s about to bully his cock into your cunt until he’s had his fill, until you’re crying and begging him for more, until he’s knocked you up good with one of his little blonde pups- “But i’m not going to fuck you,” A whine as you pout and you watch his eyes widen, watch him fight with himself for a second as he shakes his head, as if shutting up that voice that you  know he hears too. “No-don’t do that babygirl..You listen to me now.” The sternness in his voice catches your attention, your cunt pulsing at the way it radiates through you. “I want to fuck you so bad, lovie, want to sit you on my cock for fuckin’ hours, believe me, it’s all ‘ve been able to think about since I walked into that garden..but I can’t do it when you’re not all the way there, when you’re delirious in heat..” A pout that damn near breaks him, that definitely breaks the wolf in his head, howling ricocheting in his ears as he tries to talk. “I’m going to fuck you, lovie, but not until your heat is done, yeah? Don’t worry babygirl, m’still gonna help you though, know it hurts, baby, know you need my help..” 

You hadn’t realized he had bunched the waistband of your panties in his hand until then, letting go of your thigh to pull at the seam of the fabric, ripping it apart and tugging it from your mound. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the soaked cotton to his crooked nose, closing his eyes as he takes a long sniff, a deep growl radiating through the room as he opens his eyes, staring straight into yours as his fist clenches around your panties. 

“Cm’ere, babygirl.” He grunts, pulling at you so that you’re sitting directly on his chest, pussy leaving a wet swatch in his chest hairs as he squeezes both hips. “Wanna sit on my face, don’t you? Saw the way you were looking at me, know just what you were thinkin’ huh?” You nod your head, but make no move to actually do it. You’re so big? What if you suffocate him? Bitch shut the fuck up and let him eat your fucking pussy, you whiney brat! He’s a big boy, he can fucking take it! You had the random thought that your wolf might actually try and kill you if you didn’t let her enjoy this, if you didn’t swallow your self conscious thoughts and let this glorious man eat you for breakfast. “Aht-aht, stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking-” He pulls your hips so you’re sitting just below his neck now, your hands immediately catching yourself on the headboard, preventing him from pulling you up past his chin. He narrows his eyes at you, you see him shake his head, the firm line his plus lips are set in. A warning to behave and let him be in control. “Don’t-you want this, don’t you..want me to help you? Need me to make it better?” 

“Pleas-ungh” In a show of pure strength, he has you fully sat on his face before you can finish the word, warm, thick tongue devouring you as swirls it around your clit, you can’t help the rock of your hips or the way your head throws back as you moan when his tongue teases your aching whole, nose rubbing against your clit the way you imagined it when you tilted your hips. 

He groans beneath you, hands splayed on your bare ass cheeks, holding you in place as he grips so hard you’re sure his fingerprints will be permanently indented into your skin, not that you think you’d really mind it. “That’s it lovie, ride my face..”

You didn’t have to be told twice now that you had started. The way his tongue worked you open, the way he held you in place but still let you rut your hips against his face, making a slimy, glistening mess..his stubble brushed against your inner thighs, keeping you grounded from coming on the spot, though it doesn’t last for long. He’s got you coming within moments, skilled tongue going between clit and your pulsing hole, giving you what you needed as you rocked back and forth, taking what you wanted. “Tha’s a good girl, lovie..give me one more?” 

You’re not sure how many ‘one more’s’ you give him, but by the time he’s got you on the brink of over stimulation, he’s got his whole tongue buried in your hole, his teeth nibbling at your clit as you buck and tremble, tears brimming your eyes as you grip his hair in each hand, tugging harshly. His hands pushed up your shirt, exposing your soft, pudgy belly to him as he squeezed your tits in each of his large palms, fingers playing with your nipples as he fucks you with his mouth, cries and whimpers leaving your own. 

“Si-oh-mm, please! I can-so good, feel’s so good!” You’re a babbling mess, cheeks red as your thighs shake, still clenched around his head. He’s been at it for almost an hour and you swear he’s barely come up from air, he’s barely let you move off of his face for more than a moment, his mouth leaving your cunt only to praise you or bite into meat of your thighs, leaving a harsh imprint of his mouth, a reminder that this is in fact real. You’re on the brink of another when you realize that this one feels different, feels almost painful, even. “Si-mo-n, si-ugh-umf..hur-urts…” You screech out, swatting at the top of his head, he only grunts, pulling you down farther onto his mouth, his hands going back to grip your tighs, leaving your precious tits unattended as he does, holding you there as he brings another harsh bite to your clit, sending you over the edge. “Simon!” You shout, vision going blurry as something snaps in your lower belly, a gush of fluid coming from your cunt that has your cheeks heating as Simon groans out below you, lapping it up as quickly as it comes out, slurping even as he continues to make out with your pussy as you slouch against the headboard, being sure to avoid your overly sensitive clit as he does, leaving open mouthed kisses to your mound that honestly could have had you coming again if you weren’t entirely fucked out just from his mouth. How many was that? Five? Six? 

“You okay up there babygirl?” His voice is thick and raspy, sexy as he peeks up at you from between your still shaking legs. All you can do is nod meekly, unsure of what to say, mind oddly quiet as you pant out breaths, trying to come down from such an epic high. “Squirted al’over me lovie, legs are still shakin’” He’s chuckling at you, big warm hands rubbing your thighs in an effort to soothe the shaking. 

“M’sleepy, si’” You whimper out, still sagged against the headboard, mind gone numb, legs gone soft, heat and wolf satiated for the time being. 

“Yeah?” He asks, voice soft as he sits up slowly, sliding you down his body. Your clit catches on his chest hairs and the fabric of his now soaked tank top on the way down and your hips jumps, your whimper ringing out as he shushes you, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. “Need’ta nap baby?” 

Your eyes are already closing before you can get the words out, before you can even nod your head, you barely register the way his lips kiss the side of your head as he leans back with you in his arms, the way his scent floods your senses, easing you into an easy slumber, as if that had been his plan all along. The last thing you remember before sleep takes you completely is wondering what the hell you had gotten yourself into with him..

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree

[mayababes19]

Wrap Around Me, Darlin'

⚠️ MDNI, Toji x F!Reader, Toji x Afab!Reader, Dom!Toji, Sub!Reader, Degradtion, smut ⚠️

A small (late, I apologize pookie 🙇🏾‍♀️) birthday gift for, @screampied. Please. I struggled on the ending for the past week, I didn't know how to end this 😭.

---‐--------‐-------------‐---------------------------------------------

Christmas. 

One of the holidays Toji didn’t care for. Toji was your long-distance boyfriend. Always sending gifts and face-timing when he could, but this year? Oh, this year was different. 

He had a plan. A real good plan. 

“Toji,I miss you. I haven’t seen you in 2 months.” once again. You decided to annoy your boyfriend in the wee hours of the morning. 1 am on Christmas to be exact. 

“And you decided to call at 1 am to complain?” He smirked. Damn. He looked so good. He gave you a clear view as he walked around in the streets. A bomber jacket, a white low v-neck,  and black cargo pants. “Hey darlin’, want your gift early?” He looked directly into the camera. Early? He was going to give it to you early? “Um,” you debated internally if you wanted to wait a couple of hours or not. ‘Fuck it’, you thought. Right now, you wish you had Toji instead of the small jewelry, bouquet of roses, etc he would usually get you. “Yes, please”.

Suddenly, the call got cut leaving you alone in the dark. “What just?-” you sat up in bed, frantically looking for your charger in the dark thinking your phone died. As you were searching, a knock was heard on your apartment door. You froze. It was 1 am, why was someone or something at your door? Without a second thought, you grabbed a bat just in case as you walked closer peering through the peephole. You couldn't believe your eyes. Eagerly, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

“Hey Darlin’”.

Shit.

Here he was. Toji was standing proudly in front of your door, his voice deep and silky. “Missed me?” “Are you crazy?! It’s 1 am, I wasn’t expecting you to show up!” He only smirked. Loving getting a rise out of you. “What? You wanted your present.” You stepped aside letting him in from the freezing air. “C’mere..” Toji gently pulled you into a soft yet rough kiss as you closed and locked the door. You wanted this. You missed him so much.

Toji carefully led you to your bedroom, the back of your knees hitting the edge of your bed. "You'll love your gift, Darlin'" He mumbled. Toji soon moved to your neck, leaving love bites as he tasted your skin. He was rough but also gentle. Little did you know that'll change soon. Toji pulled away, admiring the hickeys he left on your neck. He knew you'd have a hard time covering them and that gave him an ego boost.

"Strip," Toji ordered. He had a smug grin as he leaned back against your dresser. "Strip for me, darlin'." You knew he was serious. You started taking off your clothes, slowly, teasing and giving him a show. Toji grunted as he watched, trying to keep it together. "Teasing, huh? You know what'll happen if you keep going, Darlin'". He was right. Last time you teased him when he visited, you couldn't walk for 2 days. You got wetter as you remembered Toji dominating you that night. "Look at you," he cooed. "You're dripping down your thighs and I only kissed you. That needy, baby girl?"

Toji lifted himself off of your dresser and strode towards you, pushing you down on the bed. "All that beggin' and whining over the phone and now you're shocked? Tell me what you want, baby" he muttered as he got on his knees, kissing down your thighs. "Toji-" you gasped. Toji parted your thighs, licking his lips. "I missed my favorite dessert". Before you could even respond, Toji attacked your pussy eagerly licking and sucking like a starved man.

Lick after lick, you got wetter. He knew exactly how to get you going. "Tell me, baby girl," he parted your folds, sliding two fingers in. "What do you want?" He whispered, his hot breath fanning against your clit as he thrusted his fingers in and out. You moaned, arching your back. "Mmph.. Toji, fuck.." He barely even started and already made you speechless.

His fingers were so thick.. so long...

You looked down, your gaze meeting Toji's as he stared up at you through his bangs, sucking your clit and fingering you. "F-fuck Toji... I want you. I need you" you whined, squirming. Toji placed one of his arms across your stomach, holding you down as he continued to feast. He was driving you crazy and he's only been here for twenty minutes.

"Toji, please!-" Toji finally let up. A string of saliva connected his lips to your cunt as he pulled away. "Such a good girl for me, darlin,'". He smirked. He lifted his arm off of you and kissed up your chest. "A very good girl". You were breathing heavily, trying to process what he just did.

Toji sat up, removing his jacket, shirt, and shoes teasing your nipples in between - leaving him only in his boxers. He slid his fingers down, teasing your cunt once again. "On your knees, baby girl". You bent down, coming face to face with his bulge. Even with his boxers on, you could tell he was big.

You looked up at Toji, his eyes lidded as you pulled his boxers down. "Mm, you look so pretty on your knees for me." He teased. His thick, curved, and veiny cock sprung out - nearly hitting you. "Toji, did you.." you paused, too stunned to even finish. "Grow? Maybe, maybe not". He was so cocky. So.. fuck. He irritated you at times but damn did you love him. "Use those pretty lips, darlin'".

You wrapped your lips around his veiny cock, gagging as you try to take him in your throat. "C-come on, open that pretty mouth of yours, darlin'," he grunted. Toji's eyes glossed over as he watched you. "Such a pretty slut for me.." he cooed. Toji loved this. You were so sloppy whenever you sucked him off and every time he went back home, all he thought about was you on your knees using that sloppy mouth of yours.

You took Toji deeper causing the 6'2 foot man to moan, his eyes closing as he tilted his head back. Fuck. You thought he looked so sexy. Toji's eyes opened halfway and he pulled you head away, picking you up and tossing you on the bed. "Toji!" You glared at him but he didn't care. He couldn't wait anymore. And neither could you. "Shut up..." He kissed you, his tongue sliding between your lips as he crawled on top of you. The kiss was rough amd bruising, yet, passionate. He pulled away, a string of saliva connecting the both of your swollen lips.

"I'm going to fuck you all night until the only think you can remember is my name and the feeling of my dick pounding your little cunt, understand darlin'?" You nodded and Toji sat up positioning himself. "Toji, please.." you pleaded. You were aching for him and all he did was smirk and tease you. Such an asshole. He rubbed his cockhead against your enterance, slightly pushing in before pulling right back out. You whined and squirmed. "Beg for it," he mocked. "Beg for it like a little slut".

"I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Toji. I need you" you begged. "Good girl". Toji looked directly in your eyes as he pushed in, causing you to gasp and moan.

He was big. You felt every inch, every vein..

"Gasping already, darlin'? I only just started" he was indeed just getting started. "Nah.. we're not doing missionary. I'm going to give you something better. You're going to feel every inch of me as I rearrange your guts, baby girl. It's christmas, darlin'.." Toji flipped you over onto your stomach into the pronr bone position and started pounding into you.

You moaned, grabbing the sheets as your eyes rolled back. Toji leaned down kissing your neck, leaving hickeys. "Keep moaning for me, darlin'." He groaned. "Fuck, you feel so good baby girl. So wet and tight for me".

You reached a hand down rubbing your clit before Toji yanked it away causing you to whine, "ah, cute. Tryin' to cum early, hm? No baby... not gonna let you. You're going to take what I give you." "I'm sorry, Toji-" "Too late for that, slut."

Toji pulled out and grabbed your hips, flipping you onto your back. "Aww, look at you. You're clenching around nothing, baby. Such a needy whore for me". He propped up one of your legs onto his leg shoulder, still holding your hips before sliding back in. "Wrap your pretty cunt tight around me, darlin'". You grabbed his bicepts for support as he started thrusting again. You arched your back as you cried out. "F-fuck Toji..!"

He was smirking, "Take it like a good girl, baby.." Toji was hitting your g-spot repeatedly causing you to moan louder and louder. "You're so loud, darlin'. Trying to let your neighbors hear how much of a whore you are? Hm?" He teased, his movements speeding up. At this rate, you were close to seeing stars and babbling. He was like beast. He was fucking you so good. Toji spat on your clit and rubbed it with his thumb as he fucked you. He was so nasty. You heard slushing noises every time he moved deeper and deeper, nearly bottoming out. "Mmm, close t-toji.." you cooed. "Beg for me to let you cum. Say it, slut. Use your words and beg".

Every thrust and rub against your clit got you closer. You could feel your stomach tightening. "Please. Please let me cum, Toji." You begged. "Aht, not good enough" Toji added more pressure onto your clit. "M-mmph. Fuck. T-toji please..." you eyes rolled back as you moaned and your breathing hitched. "Please let me cum, Toji. I'll be g-good". Toji finally let up. "Cum for me, baby girl". After he said that, your climax hit you like a train and he slowed his thrusts slightly amd removed his thumb. Toji kissed you through your climax before pulling away. "Good girl.." Toji pulled out and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling you with him.

"You can cum again? Right, baby?" He questioned. You nodded as he slid you down onto his cock. You bit your lip and wrapped your arms around his neck as you bounced up and down.

"Look at me as you ride me, darlin'" You looked at his face and it was so pretty. Bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead, eyes lidded, and his breathing labored as he made eye contact with you. The moonlight shined through the curtains highlighting his features. You sped up your movements causing the black-haired man to moan "fuck baby.." he groaned, throwing his head back. You kissed his neck as you rode him causing him to moan louder and more whiney. You left hickeys in every spot you kissed. Toji gripped your hips for support as you rode him faster. "I'm close, baby girl.."

You grinned. You knew this was perfect opportunity for revenge. You sped up your movements once more causing the buff man to moan your name and whine. Not long after, you both came together, moaning.

You collapsed onto Toji's chest as he fell back onto the bed. "Fuck darlin'.. I might have to stay until New Years..." He huffed, wrapping his arms around you.

This was the best Christmas present you could've wished for.

[pinkolve]

A Missing Lunch and Soft Kisses

Summary: Your boyfriend forgets his lunch at home so you decide to bring it to him.

Genre: Fluff only!

CW: A bit of social anxiety on reader's part, first person point of view, use of y/n, a little ooc Aaron Hotchner, a few little kisses <3

Word Count: 556 (very short, sorry!)

A/N: I wrote this really quickly just to have the motivation to post more stories here, so pardon any mistakes or poor word choice! Let me know if I missed anything that should be a CW, and if you'd read more fanfics written by me!! (I promise I usually write longer stories than this.)

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

I walk out of the elevator, looking through the glass doors that await me. There’s a brown paper bag in my hand and my bag is slung over my shoulder. I’ve never met any of Aaron’s coworkers, I’m nervous as to how the first impression will go. I originally wasn’t supposed to be here, this was never planned. Aaron and I haven’t even started planning an occasion for us to meet. If only he had remembered to bring his own lunch, I wouldn’t be here. 

I push open one of the glass doors and walk through. No one looks my way which is already a weight off my shoulders. I completely expected everyone to immediately stare at me, like they did in highschool when someone was late to class. I shiver at that memory. 

I start to walk past some desks and avoid any gazes sent in my direction. I obviously don’t recognize anyone. The nightmare is almost over as I reach the steps leading to Aaron’s office. I knock and wait for a response. 

“Come in!” He orders. I push open the door and watch as his face lights up at the sight of me. I push the door closed behind me. “Y/n! How are you doing, sweetheart?” He walks over to me and kisses my forehead, resting his hand on my hips. 

“You forgot your lunch.” I smile as I lift up the bag in my hand. 

“Thank you for bringing it all the way here.” He grabs it from me. “You know you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I couldn’t just let my man starve, now could I?” I blush at my own words. 

“Mm, how thoughtful of you.” He hums before kissing me again, longer this time. A knock interrupts us, pulling us apart. 

“Yes?” Aaron calls out and the door opens. His hand is still on my waist. 

“Hotch, I found-” A bubbly blonde woman stops mid-sentence. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you had company!” 

“Don’t worry about it, I just came to drop off his lunch.” I respond.

“Ah, well, it’s wonderful to meet you! I’m Penelope.” 

“I’m Y/n, it’s nice to meet you too!” 

“How have I never met you before?” She asks. 

“You know Aaron, he never tells anyone about his personal life. He’s been keeping me a secret for a couple years now.” I whisper. Aaron groans at me. 

“Honey, I was not ‘keeping you a secret.’ No one asked me anything about my love life so I never mentioned anything.” 

“Whatever you say.” I shrug. He rolls his eyes at me and smiles. 

“Do you ever believe anything I tell you?” 

“Depends on what it is.” I smirk up at him. I look back at Penelope and her eyes are wide. Her mouth hangs open as she stares between us both. 

“Are you two…?” She finally asks. 

“Yes, Garcia. We’ve been together for two years now.” Aaron chuckles. Penelope’s face stays the same. 

“Excuse me, I have to go talk to…Someone. Bye!” She practically runs out the door. I look at Aaron with a puzzled look. 

“She’s about to tell everyone in the bullpen about this whole thing.” He smiles. 

“She doesn’t seem like a very good secret keeper.” 

“Trust me, she is not.” He laughs, placing another gentle kiss against my lips. 

[bokutosbabe]

i didn't know the spotify wrapped event was ending n u were starting a new event ... 🍊 🍫 w sae😈😈

dawg I'm coming back to ur acc every day now I love ur works

💌

awee thank you so much, that's so sweet :,)

a sae itoshi chocolate covered orange

જ⁀♡⊹｡° don't you say you've missed me

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event !

♡ content — sae itoshi x gn! reader, ex bf! sae, sae itoshi x gn! reader, second chance romance, slight pining?, angst (kinda)

♡ synopsis — sae itoshi broke your heart years ago, and this simulation is giving him the perfect opportunity to do it again.

It was almost cruel how life worked sometimes. Out of all the people in the world, it had to be him.

Sae Itoshi stood across from you, his posture perfect, his expression unreadable as the instructor explained the expectations of the marriage simulation program. He hadn’t so much as glanced your way, and you hadn’t said a word to him either.

You wondered if he was as shocked as you were when his name was called alongside yours—or if he even cared.

The last time you’d spoken was years ago, back when the two of you were more than just strangers passing each other by. Back when his hand used to find yours in crowded places, and his words carried a softness that now seemed impossible to imagine.

Back when you still believed in him.

The shared apartment was unnervingly quiet that first evening. Sae unpacked in silence, his every movement precise and deliberate. You tried to busy yourself by organizing your side of the space, but the weight of his presence was impossible to ignore.

“So,” he said finally, his voice cutting through the stillness like a blade. “This is awkward.”

You turned to face him, surprised he’d broken the silence. His expression was calm, but there was a faint edge to his tone.

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Neither did I.” He looked at you then, his teal eyes sharp and assessing. “But it’s just a program. Let’s get through it and move on.”

His words stung more than you wanted to admit.

Despite his detached demeanor, Sae was annoyingly good at the simulation.

He remembered every detail the program tested on—your supposed "anniversary," your "favorite" flowers, even how you took your coffee. He played the part of the perfect partner effortlessly, charming the instructors and the other couples with ease.

But you knew better.

Behind the façade, he was as distant as ever. Every word he spoke, every gesture he made, felt rehearsed, like he was reciting lines from a script.

It reminded you of how things had been near the end of your relationship—the way he’d started pulling away, hiding behind excuses and half-truths until there was nothing left between you but empty space.

One evening, as you sat together at the kitchen table, going over the week’s assignments, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Do you even care about this?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

Sae didn’t look up from his notebook. “What do you mean?”

“This.” You gestured around the room. “The program, the simulation, us. Do you care about any of it, or is this just another thing you’re good at?”

He finally met your gaze, his expression unreadable. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” you said, your chest tightening. “It matters to me.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his teal eyes piercing. Then he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“It’s just a program,” he said quietly. “None of this is real.”

But it had been real once.

You remembered the late-night phone calls, the stolen moments between his games and your busy schedule. The way he used to look at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

And you remembered the way it all fell apart.

The arguments, the distance, the day he told you he was leaving for Spain—and the way he didn’t ask you to come with him. The way he didn't bother when you offered to do long distance.

The way he got over you so easily.

You’d told yourself you were over it. That you’d moved on.

But sitting there, across from him, the weight of everything unsaid between you pressed down like a storm cloud, and you wondered if you ever really had.

The final week of the program arrived, and with it, the “partner reflection” exercise.

Each couple was tasked with writing a letter to their partner, summarizing their experience in the program and what they’d learned. The letters would be shared during the final evaluation.

You spent hours staring at a blank page, the words refusing to come. What could you possibly say to Sae that hadn’t already been said—or left unsaid—years ago?

When the day came, you sat in the evaluation room, your letter clutched tightly in your hands. Sae sat beside you, calm and composed as always, his letter folded neatly on the table.

When it was time to read, he went first.

His words were precise, calculated, perfectly crafted to impress the instructors. He spoke about teamwork, communication, and personal growth, his tone polite but detached.

It was everything you expected—and nothing you wanted to hear.

When it was your turn, you hesitated. The letter in your hands felt heavy, the weight of all your unspoken feelings pressing down on you.

In the end, you set it down on the table, unopened.

“I don’t have anything to say,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

The instructors looked surprised, but they didn’t press you.

Sae didn’t say anything either.

The program ended the next day.

As you packed up your things, Sae lingered by the door, his expression unreadable.

“This was… interesting,” he said finally, his tone carefully neutral.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something more. But then he turned, his hand on the doorknob.

“Take care of yourself,” he said softly, without looking back.

And then he was gone.

As the door closed behind him, you felt a strange sense of finality settle over you.

Maybe this was how it was always meant to end—two people, once close, now strangers again, moving on in opposite directions.

You told yourself it was for the best.

But as you stood alone in the empty apartment, your chest ached with the weight of everything you’d lost.

i'm obsessed with 2nd chance romance

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[linlinmoon]

"Look Of Love."

a/n : hi! just to note this isn't my best work as it is something i've done to crawl out of the deep pit of writer's block i'm currently suffering with so i suppose it is better than nothing 🙂‍↕️ i do appreciate if u suggest prompts in my ask box so i get the motivation to write and to write better 😻 enjoy!

🍰 : (they/them), fluff! riddle roseharts x reader.

The housewarden of Heartslabyul trudged his way back to his own dorm after dealing with miscellaneous events that wasn't even part of his agenda. His feet were practically dragging itself across the checkered tiles, his body so heavy he just wanted to do nothing but lay on his bed the whole entire evening after. 

It was one of the things left unsaid when being a housewarden, that you'd also have to be the one to pick up after the people who are more careless with following the rules and laws of the dorm. 

He couldn't let those things slide of course, yet fortunately he was a bit more considerate than before. After the overblot incident, he had become more lenient with certain rules, although it didn't mean that he'd let things slide way too often. 

And finally after a day of housewarden duties homework, and a lot of spellcasting on rulebreakers. He had arrived at the front of his dorm. Thank the Seven.

He opens the door to see them currently studying on the desk, the only other person that would make him feel like not everything has to be perfect all the time. The person that reminded him it was okay that his files didn't have to always be in proper order or the colors of his pens weren't in sequence according to their shades. Through them, it's also how he learned to be more expressive with how he feels and is in the process of learning how to do so in a proper manner, to  avoid any pent up negativity that would possibly bottle up inside of him.

Perhaps he was even more than lenient with them when it came to the laws of the dorm, though he'd say that it had just slipped his mind.

Definitely wasn't favoritism. ( Of course it was, he just wouldn't say it out loud )

“Ah, good evening. You're back later than usual.” they smiled, the corners of their lips tugging at their cheeks. They had taken his hands in theirs, slowly intertwining their fingers with each other's.

“Mm. Got held back a little.” he spoke, visibly exhausted. 

“Want to talk about it?”

“Please. It would truly help to let it out.”

They get up from their seat and had sat themself down at the bed and had laid on their back, pulling the housewarden down with their movement. After a few moments of comfortable silence, they shift to lay on their stomach to fix their eyes on the redhead who was to talk about the day they've had.

Riddle had rested his eyes before looking back up at their partner, giving them a knowing look to subconsciously ask them if it was alright to rant and let out whatever he could about what had happened through out his day. 

“Go on, I'm listening.” they assure, nodding a little as a signal for him to begin

“My day was usual, but it was a rather hectic with the sudden things that would come up out of nowhere, completely unannounced. As always, there would be atleast a number of students who are careless to forget certain rules. The assigned students had forgotten to wear pink when taking care of the flamingos today, they should know that by now. It's just once every week, how hard it is to remember..”

He continues on and on for awhile shifting their positions as their limbs entangle with one another. His head had rested on their chest as they ran their fingers through his hair. Eyes half lidded as they continued to listen, now just noticing this is the most he's ranted in awhile. 

They weren't complaining though, they "were" listening or they supposed to be but they couldn't help but stare while he just spoke. The way his lips would move when he pronounced certain words differently, the way how his brows would furrow when he talked about some event that irritated him or the way his eyes would shift from them then towards the ceiling as he recalled about thing that happened. Overall entranced by how... pretty, he looked when he spoke.

Riddle had noticed that they seemed to be just hum and nod in agreement at a certain pace, as if they were on autopilot or something. Noticing the way they looked at him, the way they only blinked or glanced elsewhere only if it was necessary.

“Are you listening?”

“Mhm.. huh?”

“I think you've just been staring the entire time.”

“No no no.. I was listening I promise. The doormouse had jam spread on it's nose, the herbal tea is better than any other and-”

“That's not.. Oh, you're impossible.” he stifles a laugh, playfully hitting their chest. They had moved closer to his embrace and laughed along with him. 

The sweet melodic sound of their voice rung in his ear, tinting his ears pink.  He could listen to them laugh over and over again like a broke vinyl. 

He had moved his hand onto theirs before making its way to their cheeks, holding their face in place to admire the way their features complimented one another. Riddle would be completely lying if he said he didn't like the way they would look at him, how could he? They looked at him as if he was the only one he could see, the only one in this world. Their gaze so full of love that it was overflowing, all the love that the world could hold in those eyes. And they were his, all his. They were his world, and he was theirs.  

“Sorry I can't help but stare. But I swear I listened.. to the first half I suppose.”

“Not to worry. I'd be happy to tell you all about it over and over again.”

“You would?”

“Mhm.. For you, I'd do it over and over again.”

[luimnigh]

And finally, December:

22 Movies Watched, with 8 Partial Watches

1 TV Special

25 Comic Book Issues

And I started 1 Game.

Now, that 22 movies is clearly an outlier. And with 20/22 of those being watched over the Christmas holidays, it turns out I watch more movies when I feel the need to spend time with my family rather than go to my room. I watch more stuff when I'm not in charge of starting the watching. Go figure.

Details, as always, under the cut:

Movies:

A Christmas Carol (1984): The one with Patton as Scrooge, which notably has Scrooge as a commodities trader. Fairly good adaptation.

That Christmas: Netflix animated Christmas film, co-written by the creator of Love Actually. Pretty great movie, it's definitely stuck in my head since.

Sing: The Illumination franchise not featuring Minions. Fun, feelgood kid's movie. Solid stuff.

The Holiday: One of my Mom's favourite Christmas movies, she watches it every year. It's a fun little thing, mostly about romance than Christmas, but still.

Oppenheimer: I finally got around to this one by virtue of my Mom putting it on and then falling asleep watching it. It's a fascinating movie about the road to hell being paved with good intentions, how justification for immoral acts grow and spread, and how you cannot control what you put into the world once you've done it.

Batman Begins: Directly after Oppenheimer, seems they were doing a Nolan marathon. Gotta say, I feel like after this one Nolan leaned too far into realism and I feel it was detrimental to the rest of his trilogy. This one had a gothic Gotham and while the more fantastical elements were stripped, it still had a secret society of Ninjas who burned society down every so often. I feel like some more magical elements absolutely could have coexisted with this Batman over the latter two films.

Peter Rabbit 2: The Runaway: This did something The Fall Guy joked about, and tried to make up for a weaker Act Three by lampshading the weakness of it's Act Three.

The Muppets Christmas Carol: Because of course I did, it's mandatory.

Moana: Still a fantastic movie, one of my favourites of Disney's 2010s films.

Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl: It's Wallace & Gromit, it continues to be a series of hilarious films. I like how it touched on AI art and how the effort of creating something is part of the enjoyment of it, but in a subtle enough way that it doesn't come off as preachy.

San Andreas: You know, I think this is the only movie I've seen where falling glass from a breaking window is depicted as dangerous.

The Quiet Man: For those that don't know: It's a movie by John Ford, starring John Wayne and Maureen O'Hara, about an Irish-born American returning to his family home and trying to make a life. He falls in love, and falls afoul of local customs. It is absolutely heavy on the stereotypes, and the romance is questionably consensual the entire way through (not helped by the ending, in which our hero seems to treat our heroine terribly... until it turns out to have been an act they planned). If you can get past that, it is a fun movie.

We Own The Night: Cop drama. Not great.

And Now For Something Completely Different: Compilation of Monty Python sketches into a movie. Some of them are better in the TV versions, but it's Python, it's still mostly funny.

Romancing The Stone: Eh. It's a fair enough romantic comedy/jungle adventure.

Superman II: ...y'know, these Superman movies play a lot heavier into the Jesus angle than I remember.

Spider-Man: No Way Home: Y'know, I've seen people say this doesn't hold up now that the Marvel Multiverse stuff in full swing, but I gotta disagree, I still like this a bunch.

The Sound of Music: I gotta admit, the confrontation at the end between Captain Von Trapp and Rolfe is really well-done. You genuinely think he's gonna get through to this kid, and then the guy's true colours shine through.

The Railway Children: ...the pacing is weird on this, because what seems to be the natural climax is just the halfway point. In any other movie, preventing the train crash would happen just before the reuniting with their father.

The Second Best Exotic Marigold: I didn't really pay attention to this, to be quite honest, but I paid enough that I feel I can't call it a partial watch.

Black Panther: Technically, my last movie of 2024, as the next one I watched after midnight on New Year's Eve, but the rule is that it's not the next month until I go to bed. Anyway, still an all-time great superhero movie.

The Guard: An Irish comedy about a corrupt small-town cop who turns out to be less corrupt than the rest of the cops. Genuinely hilarious.

Herself (Partial): Irish drama about a mother escaping an abusive relationship and trying to build a home for her daughters. Harrowing, honestly.

Gosford Park (Partial): Proto-Downton Abbey. You can see the bones there, but also see where edges got sanded down from this.

Cheaper By The Dozen (Partial): Smallville Superman gets bullied by Sam Supernatural for being a farmboy. This is the only subplot I remember, it's mostly chaos.

Elf (Partial): Honestly I gotta get around to watching it in full, it seems fun enough.

Chicken Run (Partial): Animated classic.

Ghostbusters Afterlife (Partial): Technically I saw the whole thing, I just didn't hear any dialogue after the first thirty minutes thanks to everyone visiting on Christmas Eve.

The Italian Job (1969) (Partial): Quite possibly the first ever use of a hacker in a heist film. The prison scenes are very clearly filmed in Dublin if you've ever seen Killmainham Jail. I saw the car chase, that's the best part of the film except for the iconic line.

Forces of Nature (Partial): Ben Affleck, Sandra Bullock romantic comedy? Wasn't great, but it's the only romantic comedy I've ever seen where the engaged lead decides to get married to the person they're engaged to. That's the end. Our leads go off on seperate lives, happy for the time they spent together but knowing they made the right choice. Insane this happens in an otherwise forgotten romcom from the early 00s.

TV Series:

Doctor Who Christmas Special: Joy To The World: Fun little romp. Nice poignant moments. Unsubtle ending.

Comics:

Alpha Flight (2011): Issues 5-8. I was confirming some confusing wording on the Marvel Wiki regarding a kid someone protected that made it sound like it was there. Canada spent some time as a fascist state in Marvel.

Strange Tales (1998): Issue 2. The below comic continues the story, turns out Man-Thing might be a direct descendant of the Biblical Adam.

Man-Thing (1997): Issues 7 and 8. Man-Thing's son nearly gets corrupted by a demon(?). Psychadelic art style. Hard to read.

Howard The Duck (2002): Issue 6. And wow, this series was trying incredibly hard to be edgy. Quite unsure if the cosmology it lays out is canon.

Namor, The Submariner: Issue 4. Double-checking some characters who pretended to be Poseidon's kids.

Uncanny Avengers Vol 2: Annual. Checking out the full story of the Emerald Warlock.

Scarlet Witch (2016): Issues 1-4. Continuing machinations of the Emerald Warlock.

Fantastic Four (2013): Issue 5. In which Julius Caesar is replaced by a Caesar-fanboy alien.

Blade: Vampire Nation: Single Issue. Honestly, I was just checking out why Henry Kissinger was a Vampire.

Master Of Kung Fu (1976): Issues 36 & 37. Shang-Chi meets a dude who claims to be related to Pan. Incredibly confusing story.

Kidpool & Spider-Boy: Single Issue. Sometimes I get asks and have to look up comics to answer them.

Elektra & Wolverine: The Redeemer: Three Issue Series. More of a book than a comic. Interesting story, but added another kid to Wolverine's list.

Wolverine (2010): Issues 305-307. Wolverine fights a Redneck Stereotype Mad Scientist named Dr Rot, who stole pieces of Wolverine's brain and grew them into shapeshifting minions.

Videogames:

Ace Attorney Investigations: Miles Edgeworth (Partial): Fun detective game so far, but I kinda miss the courtroom stuff. The Testimony/Rebuttal just doesn't feel the same.

Looking back, I spent most of last year in a depressive funk. There were some high moments, but after about March I just stopped doing the stuff I enjoy. I didn't read books, I didn't watch movies, the last videogame I played to completion was in May, I only went to the Cinema twice...

I just took the quick dopamine hit from stuff like youtube videos and social media scrolling.

I gotta fix that. I gotta get back to the things I enjoy.

So my New Year's Resolution, probably the first time I've ever seriously done one, is to enjoy more art.

I'm gonna record every movie and series watched, every book read, every game played- and I'm gonna finish a bunch of those I started and never ended.

No goal, just more.

[zepskies]

Outlander - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Ready for some more Cowboy Dean? Here we go with Outlander Part 1! This is a sequel story directly following The Honorable Choice, where Dean not only saves the member of a Native American tribe, but falls in love with her. (She saves him a lot in return.) Now, he’ll have to learn how to live in her world if he wants to stay with her.

This sequel series will be 4 parts! 💜

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Suggestiveness/implied smut and spice, hunting (in the more traditional sense), angst, hurt/comfort, and romantic fluff. **Pronunciation guide at the end!

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Two Worlds

Her people call this river Little Cheyenne. It’s because Big Cheyenne cuts through the land of the Sioux Indians by half, but Little Cheyenne almost meets it in the south, stretching all the way up to the Black Hills.

Mila’s tribe has always lived near this river. Its waters have bled red during battles with other tribes, and sometimes during battles with White Men.

The White Men’s fort, the one her husband came from, lies farther down in the south. The tribe had to move their village higher north along the river after Mila returned with Dean Winchester, just to be safe.

On a cloudy afternoon, Mila scrubs at a bundle of dirty clothes until they’re clean. She rinses them off in the river and is thorough about her work, but she knows she can’t be here much longer. She has a stew simmering on hot coals in her tipi…

Well, the one she now shares with her husband.

Unconsciously, she smiles. She remembers leading Dean through the tribe, to the place where she hoped he would find rest. They stopped at the foot of her tipi. 

“This one’s yours?” he asked.

She paused, giving him another small smile. 

“Ours.”

Mila continues scrubbing, though she frowns when her fingers slip through a tear in one of the new tunics she made for him (even though he keeps calling it a shirt). The tear was made by a blade, or maybe an arrowhead, she realizes. 

The crunch of feet on the riverbed’s gravel makes her raise her head and look over her shoulder. Unease prickles down her spine. She braces herself for a familiar shadow, come to disturb her peace.    

But then she relaxes. She’s being joined by two of the older women in her tribe. Mila has known them her whole life, and so she calls them tunwin. Aunt. They both greet her kindly and kneel beside her with their own bundles of clothes for washing, but Eyota, the older one, has a sharper eye. She is their tribe’s medicine woman. 

“Your husband wears out his clothes,” she remarks.

“He’s been working hard training with Šóta and the other men,” Mila explains.

“He seems to be learning quickly,” says Misae. She has a more playful glint in her eyes. “Who knew that you could catch and tame a White Man. Looks like they are no different from wild horses.”

Mila smiles slightly, but it’s not genuine. She nods in agreement. “He’s learning quickly.”

She holds her tongue from saying anything else, even though she wants to. Dean isn’t a man to be tamed, any more than she was, in his people’s eyes. She aims to change the subject. 

“Do you have any good herbs or spices for wahonpi? I’ve had the stew simmering all morning,” she asks Eyota. Not only is she a gifted healer, but Eyota is also one of the best cooks, and she knows it. She nods and straightens her shoulders the way she always does when someone asks her for advice—and even when they don’t ask for it.

“Of course, child. What you need is…”

“Goddamn it,” Dean huffs under his breath.

The jackrabbit flees from him again, or more accurately, from his terribly aimed arrow. He’s an excellent marksman…just not with a bow, it seems.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong here, and he’s not likely to figure it out. Not by the way Takoda, Šóta, and the other men are laughing at him.

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows when he’s being hazed.

These men are bare-chested warriors, each of them richly tanned under the sun. Most of them wear their hair long, half of it gathered high on their heads, or braided in some way. Šóta is his wife’s cousin, and as the Chief’s son, he wears a small adornment of eagle feathers threaded into his hair. His closest friends are Takoda and Otaktay. Both of them laugh at Dean the most, and in their language, using just enough gestures and body language that Dean knows he’s being talked about. They point at his boots and his brown Stetson hat—two of the only things he’s kept of his own that make him feel comfortable in his own skin.

Finally, Šóta goes over to him. “Good try,” he says, in his usual patronizing tone.

Dean knows he can’t punch out Mila’s cousin, no matter how bad he’s asking for it. Somehow, Dean manages to hold onto his temper.

“What’re they saying?” he asks lowly, gesturing at the two chuckle brothers.

Šóta’s lips twitch. He glances down at Dean’s feet. “They say your…shoes are loud on the earth. You give yourself away before the animal even catches your scent.”

Dean’s given up a lot of things, but his boots won’t be one of them. He wants to learn. He wants to belong here, in Mila’s world, but he also wants to stay himself.

So the men move on, mounting their horses. Dean rides with Baby at a plodding clip. Her black coat ripples with a healthy sheen. He thinks she’s come to enjoy the more natural surroundings and freer pasture of the grasslands, and he can’t deny, this part of it all feels right. The sun peeks through between the dappled leaves of oak trees, painting the ground in red, green, and gold. It’s quiet and beautiful here as Šóta leads the pack through the forest, just southwest of the village.

Eventually, he stops them between a denser thatch of trees and shrub. He raises a hand signal that Dean’s come to recognize. He raises his bow belatedly after the others though. He follows Šóta’s line of vision, and there is a deer grazing in a small clearing. A young buck.

Šóta signals at Dean. Try again, his eyes say.

Dean takes in a deep, quiet breath through his nose, and he takes aim.

He really misses his damn rifle.

Dean shoulders the sting of failure while he makes his way through the camp, leading Baby by the reigns. He drops her off at the large horse pen. There he feeds her and brushes her long coat, all while murmuring soft affectionate things. She’s still one of his only friends here.

But even she leaves him short to join her new friend, Mato. The two have become thick as thieves. Mato greets the black mare with a friendly whinny. Their noses touch in affection, and Mato playfully nips at her ear.

Dean raises his brows. “Well, that’s a little more friendly than usual. You guys start courting when I wasn’t looking?”

He walks over to Mato, who’s softened up to him in recent weeks.

“You sly dog,” Dean remarks, smirking. “Didn’t even ask me for her hand.”

Mato blows a hot breath through his nose at Dean, who has to blink, wiping his face.

“Now that’s just rude.” Still, he offers the mustang an apple from his pocket. Mato takes it from his palm, letting Dean rub his neck while he munches on his snack. “As fathers-in-law go, you lucked out, pal. See? I’m a delight.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Baby had her first foal by spring. Dean grins at the thought, but it soon falls. If only his father-in-law were so easy to please.

His mind dwells on it as he starts making his way back to the heart of the village. Chatan, Mila’s father, hasn’t warmed up to him any better than Šóta or the other men. Tahatan is the only one of them who treats Dean civilly, and overall, he seems to be a good leader.

Dean has that thought, just when he sees the older man himself walking with a woman Dean sort of recognizes. She wears a long necklace made of blue beads and seashells. Tahatan goes into her tipi, even though Dean knows…that woman isn’t the Chief’s wife.

Dean raises his brows, but he subtly pivots on his heel and takes a different route back to his own tipi. Whatever he just saw, it’s definitely not his business.

“Honey, I’m home,” he teases.

She welcomes him into her arms, her hands traveling warmly up his shoulders. He bends to kiss her, soft and slow at first. And then deeper, sucking on her lower lip and teasing her with a sensuous tongue. She hums in surprise into his mouth, making him smile.

He’s exhausted and feeling low, but he doesn’t want to let on to her. He just wants to forget about his day, and hopefully recharge with a better night.

“How did it go today?” she asks, after he allows her to breathe.

Dean nods (and lies). “Pretty good.”

She waits for him to continue. When he just continues to hold her, she raises her brows up at him.

“Dean?”

“What? I’m workin’ on archery. Lots of progress.”

She eyes him in suspicion, and he knows he doesn’t have her fooled. Actually, she looks like she’s going to press him about it, so he releases her from his hold and goes to change out of his dirty clothes to avoid her gaze.

“Hey, uh, maybe it’s none of my business, but I saw the Chief go into some other woman’s tent today. Holding hands, bedroom eyes, the whole deal,” he says while he changes. He glances back at her and waggles his brows. Mila smiles slightly.

“Did she wear her hair in a half-braid, or did she wear a necklace made of seashells?” she asks.

Dean’s surprised that she doesn’t seem surprised, but he thinks back to what he saw.

“Uh, seashells. Yeah, she wore seashells,” he says.

Mila nods. “Yes, that woman is also his…the chiefs of my people are known to take more than one wife.”

At that, Dean becomes even more surprised. He finishes dressing and leaves his boots by the tipi’s entrance. His raised brows even out into a smirk.

“Well, okay. Guess it’s good to be Chief,” he says.

Mila’s lips purse as she eyes him narrowly. She goes back to stirring the stew with a wide, wooden spoon. Dean doesn’t see her reaction, but he does notices that something’s missing from his side of the bedding. He frowns.

“Hey, where’s my gun?” He asks Mila, who shakes her head without looking at him.

“I moved it,” she curtly replies.

Dean’s frown deepens. He touches her arm to get her attention.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that, baby,” he says. He’s made sure that she knows the basics of a gun well enough, but he doesn’t want to take the chance of her hurting herself.

“Don’t leave it out, then,” she snips back. “It shouldn’t go where we sleep.”

Dean tilts his head at her. He’s a bit confused at her tone, especially because they’ve had this conversation before.

“I have it there just in case something happens at night,” he reminds her. His pistol is really just for emergencies though. There are only three bullets left in it, and he can’t exactly go shopping for more. 

Dean realizes then that Mila’s mood has shifted. He approaches her from behind.

“What’s wrong, huh?” His hands find familiar purchase along the curve of her waist. He swipes her braid away and presses a kiss where her neck meets her shoulder. More teasingly, he asks, “What’d I do now?”

Mila remains tight-lipped, until she glances at him over her shoulder.

“Do you want another woman?” she asks.

It’s a simple question, but it succeeds in completely tripping him up. He blinks at her, incredulous and bewildered.

“What?”

She continues shredding another herb to put into the stew. Somehow, it makes the broth smell a bit worse. 

“You seem to admire the Chief for having three wives, so you must want another one too,” she says.

Holy shit, three wives? Dean wonders. The man must be a saint. Look at the hell I’m catching with one.

He can’t help but laugh, a deep belly chuckle that does nothing to take away Mila’s ire. She glares at him now, genuinely upset, and Dean knows he’s starting to shit the bed on this one. He sobers up and raises his hands in surrender.

“Sweetheart,” he says, in a placating tone.

Despite her annoyance, she allows him to hold her again. He plies her with more tantalizing kisses along her neck. He breathes in the sweet-smelling oil she uses on her hair.

“You’re more than enough woman for me. You know that, right?” he whispers against her skin. It earns her slight shudder, and he smiles. He teases the spot just under her ear, grazing with his teeth, then soothing with his tongue. She can’t help but writhe against him a bit. It stirs a well of desire in his lower belly, especially when he squeezes her hips, pressing himself to her from behind.

She tries to remain strong as she clears her throat, no doubt feeling his growing hardness against her. She starts to blush hotly.

“It’s all I can do just to make sure you stay sweet for me,” Dean says, a hint of teasing returned to his voice.

Mila finally breaks into a laugh. She reaches back to swat him on the head, but his ministrations work. Once she manages to escape from his grasp with a teasing smile of her own, she more happily serves him a bowl of stew.

Dean smirks. Fine, he can be patient. He’ll just have to wait until dessert, then. After a moment to calm himself, he sits down on the ground beside her and brings a large spoonful of stew to his lips. There, he pauses. The strange taste that assaults his tongue nearly makes him choke, but he does his best to swallow it down. The meat’s tough as nails, for Christ’s sake…

Hearing a spoon clatter against the bowl, he chances glancing at Mila. She sits stock still, her brows furrowed as she frowns. Slowly, she sets the bowl down and says,

“Stop eating.”

She looks angry at herself. Dean feels bad for her, his sympathy striking at his chest.

“What do you mean? I’m hungry,” he says, and gamely takes another couple of bites.

She just watches him. Her upset worsens while he tries and fails to cover up a hacking cough.

Finally, Mila can stand no more. She takes the bowl from him, making some of the foul broth slosh over their hands and onto the ground. She tried to make wahonpi, one of the most basic soups in her people’s culture, made from bison, potatoes, corn, and carrots stewed in the broth.

Eyota told me it was simple! she thinks in dismay. How did it go so wrong?

“It’s no good,” she says, her voice hard. “I will go to my mother and see what she cooked. She may have extra for us.”

She rises to her feet, and Dean quickly follows her. He catches sight of her tears, even though she turns her face away from him to grab her shoes. He reaches out and stops her with a hand on her arm. He tugs her back to face him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Why’re you getting so upset?” he says. “I’m not picky. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

Or maybe next time, I’ll try doing the cooking, he thinks.

“Because!” she blurts. Tears well up in her eyes and begin to slip down her cheeks, no matter how much she tries to brush them away. “Because you shouldn’t have to eat it. Because it should be good. You deserve to eat something good!”

Mila finally realizes why her mother tried so hard to teach her these things. She’s embarrassed, feeling sorry for herself, but it’s also far worse than that. Her heart hurts knowing what Dean has gone through, and what he continues to go through for her sake. The least she could do is make sure he eats well, and it seems she can’t even do that.

“Mila,” he says with a sigh. He guides her into his embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

She can’t allow herself to be comforted. She pushes at his chest to look up at him.

“You think I don’t know what happens outside?” she says. “It’s a small village, and people talk when they think I’m not listening. I know what the men are doing to you.”

Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“You should not have to,” she insists, resting a hand over his heart. “You have proven yourself to be a man of honor. Tahatan said it himself. They should not be this way.” 

Dean smiles ruefully. “I can handle it.” 

He bows his head and captures her lips, plying her with a deeper kiss. The heat of it grows and becomes more than a distraction, more than comfort. It strips everything else away, until it’s just the two of them again, like the night she found him at the riverbank and held him until he woke up in her arms.

What they eat doesn’t matter. Other people don’t matter. All that matters is this.

He squeezes her hips and presses her harder against him, so she can feel every part of his desire. She moans into his mouth, curling her fingers into his shirt. So he guides her down to the bedding, where he shows her what he’d rather get a taste of.

Later that evening, Mila and Dean have dinner with her parents. Her mother, Weaya, is a gracious host, treating Dean both like a guest and a proper son-in-law. She gives him a special cut of braised bison meat, not to mention extra corn and potato hash. Chatan says nothing to him and eats in gruff, stoic silence. 

Dean can tell it both hurts and annoys his wife, but he has to focus on answering Weaya’s many questions about his life—mainly about his family and the farm he grew up on. In some ways, raising crops and rearing up cows, chickens, and horses there isn’t so different from the Lakota village.  

“You must miss that place. Your home,” she says. Dean meets his mother-in-law’s eyes, pausing in polishing off the meat sauce on his plate with a piece of bread. Chatan looks up from his meal, and so does Mila, who hesitates too. He sees the thread of her concern there, behind her eyes, so Dean hides the stab of sadness that hits him every time he thinks of Lawrence. 

“Sometimes,” he admits. He looks over at Mila. “But I’m not alone. That’s what matters.”

She smiles at him softly. Dean has the urge to take her hand, maybe raise it up to his lips, but he’ll leave that for when they’re alone. He doesn’t want to upset her father any more than he has just by sitting in Chatan’s house. Tent…whatever.

He’s glad when, after almost another hour and a round of hot tea, Mila finishes chatting with her mother and stands. It means they can finally get the hell out of here. No disrespect to her parents, but with so much change happening so quickly, Dean had been able to put Lawrence out of his mind for a while. Tonight he thinks about his mom and his brother more than makes him comfortable on their way through the village. He follows Mila inside their tipi, then starts up a candle while she gets ready to rest for the evening. 

Living here is like going back in time—before the lantern, before indoor plumbing and the water heater. It’s not a huge hardship for Dean, who’s spent a lot of his life sleeping on hard, dusty ground, or military bases with less than most modern amenities, but it’s still another adjustment. 

He undresses down to his pants and settles down to the bedding and furs, waiting for his wife. She kneels beside him after undressing down to just her shift. He lays on his back with an arm tucked behind his head, and he watches her unbind her long, dark hair, undoing the braid from the bottom strands. She has this concentrated look on her face, like her mind is far away, even though she’s right here next to him. He threads his fingers through her loose hair while she works, giving her a smile.   

“You okay?” he asks. 

Mila pauses. She lets her tresses escape from her fingers and reaches for him, laying her hand on his chest. Dean holds it there and finally allows himself to press a kiss into her palm. 

I’m sorry, is what she wants to say, but she knows he’ll only reply, For what?

So she lowers down and slips into his warm embrace, as if this can make them both forget the day. She rests her cheek over his beating heart. 

“You will never be alone,” she promises. 

Dean quirks a smile. Instead of answering, he brushes her cheek tenderly with his hand, and he closes his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he finds sleep.

The candle slowly flickers out.   

On most nights, Mila falls asleep before Dean, and so his light snores don’t bother her. Tonight, even though she’s tried, she can’t tune out his rumbles. Or maybe it’s her own mind she can’t tune out.

She carefully maneuvers out of his hold and slips on her shoes. Maybe the moon will give her clarity tonight. 

She pushes open the front flap of the tent and steps out into the cooler air. She looks up at the moon’s white-blue glow, a wide crescent peeking out from between two large clouds. A strong breeze tugs at her hair and flutters her lashes when she closes her eyes. She crosses her arms when goosebumps spread across her tan skin.

“What troubles you, Kimmímila?”

The voice is steady and male, and all too familiar. Still, the intrusion startles her. Her eyes fly open wide and she jolts, inhaling sharply. She frowns when she realizes it’s him. 

“What are you doing? It’s late,” she says.

He steps out from the shadows with his pipe in hand. He smells strongly of tobacco. Her father and uncle smoke as well, but she doesn’t like it herself. She’s glad Dean doesn’t either.  

“Easing my mind,” he says, raising his pipe. “I see you’re up to the same thing.”

Mila shakes her head. She returns her attention to the moon. “Go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are we not friends, Mila?” he says. “Can’t we talk and share like we used to?”

His voice is disheartened enough that it earns her gaze. She sighs at him. 

“I am sorry, but I can’t give you what you want,” she says. “Don’t test me anymore.”

He pauses with his pipe in hand. It drops to his side, and he takes measured steps closer, until he’s looking down at her. Even with the litheness of his form, he’s still taller and broader than her. His long, dark hair is half pulled onto the top of his head, threaded together with a beaded leather string she made for him when they were children. He has used it ever since. The rest of his hair lays loose down his back, brushing his arms. 

“If you actually loved him, it wouldn’t be a test,” he teases.  

He tries to touch her cheek, but she guides his hand down. She shakes her head and steps away from him. 

“This isn’t a game,” she says. “You know I mean what I say.”

His anger and frustration surfaces, with a sharp exhale of breath and the crunch of his dark brows.

“You would choose the Outlander over your own people,” he accuses.

Mila’s gaze is firm as she heads back to her tipi. If he will not be reasonable, then she will make it clear enough to hurt. 

“I choose him over you,” she says. 

Then, she slips back inside.     

The shadow outside remains, just long enough for the moon to become clear past the moving clouds. 

In the morning, Mila goes to her uncle, Chief Tahatan. She finds her parents there in his tipi as well, all of them sharing breakfast. Her aunt passes around more bread and wojapi, a sweet mixed berry sauce, while her father is resting a broken ankle. He’s complaining again, even though it happened over a week ago now. 

“If you hadn’t let the horse buck you off, you wouldn’t be hurting,” she says sharply now. She’s become annoyed with his griping. “Or better yet, you can finally admit that you’re beyond the years of breaking young stallions.” 

Chatan is the Horsemaster of their tribe, and has been since Mila was a little girl, inheriting the position from her great uncle, the former chief’s younger brother. Mila knows, however, that Chatan is getting too old to do the harder work. Many years have meant many battles too, and they’ve taken their toll on his bones. 

An idea grows in her mind, and she goes to sit beside her father. She applies the poultice Eyota gives Weaya for him, before rewrapping his ankle.

“Father,” she begins, imploring him gently, “perhaps Dean could help you care for the horses.”

Chatan eyes her with a frown. “Your husband already has his hands filled with training.” 

“Šóta and Takoda can’t do it all themselves, and Dean has experience with breaking young horses,” she reasons.  

Chatan ignores her and hefts himself to his feet without her or his wife’s help. He leaves with her mother on his heels, even though she looks back at her daughter apologetically. You know your father, her eyes say. 

Mila frowns at his back, both frustrated and upset. When they’re gone, she heaves a sigh. She remains determined though. 

She goes to Chief Tahatan next. He sits in his chair of whicker and wood while he smokes his pipe. Her aunt has gone to help the other women harvesting chokeberries and wild onions. Mila will go there soon, but first, she has business here.

“Uncle,” she says. 

He makes a sound of acknowledgement, crossed between a grunt and a groan. He knows what's coming. She kneels at his feet and touches his hand in a sign of humbleness, reverence, and familial love all at once. 

“Uncle,” she repeats. “Dean has done nothing but try to please Father, but still, he’s being stubborn…will you talk to him? Please?”

Tahatan sighs deeply. “You must understand your father, child. The decision you’ve made affects us all.”

“I do understand, Uncle. But the truth of it is, none of you have given Dean a chance to prove himself.”

“His chance is right now,” Tahatan says, his tone more stern. “Have I not been gracious? Did I not allow him to stay and live among us?”

“Yes, but you continue to judge him in your mind, like everyone else,” she says. The Chief remains quiet. She moves to stand before him, holding his gaze directly. “Let us perform the Huŋkápi.”

Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. Her people first created the tradition to make peace between Lakota and rival tribes, like the Ree. It can even be used to unite extended families within the tribe, especially in times of marriage. There is no better time for it, she thinks. 

The Chief shakes his head. “Kimmímila.”

“Is he not my husband?” she says. “In the eyes of our people, this is the joining of two families, and accepting an outsider into our tribe. That is exactly what the ceremony is for.”

“He has no family,” Tahatan snaps. “It is not exactly the tradition.”

“Then let us make it new,” she argues.

Tahatan hesitates. He shakes his head and rubs at his chin in a gesture of long-suffering. He thanks the spirits that he never had daughters. While he loves his niece, he has never envied his brother. 

“I will think on it,” he says. 

Mila frowns, but she tries her best to accept this, for now. She thanks him respectfully and leans in to kiss his cheek. Tahatan grunts an acknowledgement and watches her go with another shake of his head, despite a small smile. Between her and his sons, they will keep adding years to his life. 

On her way out of the Chief’s tipi, she runs into her cousin, Šóta. He walks with all the comfortable cockiness of a rooster among his harem.

“Good morning, sister,” he greets, even as he playfully pulls at her braid and tosses it into her face.

She flicks it away and meets him with an irritated frown. She’s in no mood to be teased, especially by him. “You’re still a child.”

“Ho-ho, hey now,” he chuckles, and he cuts off her path by standing in her way, crossing his arms. “Watch it. When I become Chief, don’t think I’ll let you talk to me so disrespectfully, my sister.”

“Just because you will be Chief one day does not make you wise,” she says. Her voice is as sharp as the snap of a blackberry vine. “And don’t call me sister. You have lost that right.”

Šóta finally becomes serious; he realizes that she means what she says.

“What are you talking about? What have I done?” he asks, more earnestly.

“It’s what you haven’t done,” Mila snaps. “If you were a good leader, you would take your father’s words to heart when he accepted my husband into our tribe. If you were my brother, you wouldn’t let the men mock him. If you were a man at all, you would do what is right. You would be guiding him right now, instead of letting the others ‘train’ him.”

She storms away from him, leaving Šóta feeling irritated, but also with an uncomfortable feeling beginning to churn in his gut. 

Mila moves brusquely through the camp until she reaches the clearing edged by the forest. There the horses are fenced in. They’ve been given their food and water for the morning, so they’re rather frisky as they clop around and graze.

She looks for Mato. Baby is no doubt with Dean today, so the Kiger mustang keeps to himself underneath a large sycamore tree. His tail flicks when she approaches, and he turns to her with a sound of greeting. She allows her hand to run along his dun-colored coat as she draws closer.

“I need you, my friend,” she whispers. 

She holds his snout, pressing her forehead against his as she squeezes her eyes shut against the burn of frustrated tears. Mato bumps her shoulder with his nose, softly whinnying. She smiles, sniffling, and rubs his cheek. 

“Let’s go for a ride.”

AN: Well, here we go! Sorry for ending on some angst, but here we've got the pieces in motion for a fun-filled, four-part sequel. 😂💜 Dean and Mila are both struggling in their own ways while he tries to navigate this new world he's trying to live in.

And how do you think he's gonna react to the "mystery man" trying to win her back? 😬

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

Next Time:

But she feels a shadow at her feet as she ventures through the village. They are getting bigger as a tribe, harder to move when they need to, and it’s more mouths to feed, but it’s also a good thing. Despite all the challenges the past few decades have brought, their people are enduring. 

However, she pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind when she feels a prickling down the back of her neck. It’s followed shortly by the strong hand that closes on her wrist, and the man that calls her name. 

She gasps and whips around. He is there, gently shushing her. She glares at him and tries to pull her hand out of his grip. 

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[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.

[eternal-love]

IT’S TOO LATE

Pairing: Austin Butler x Female!reader

Summary: Austin was your childhood sweetheart, years later, things weren’t just the same. And now your relationship was lead by guilt.

Warning: Angst. Mentions of religion. Mentions of death.

Note: I’m back with my fucking angst🤭 Too much love lately. Have to go back to my roots. You know the drill. The small and pink part are memories.

You and Austin were teenage sweethearts, you grew up together. Basically. Even your grandmothers were friends, that’s how you two met. As small children, drinking cold lemonade on the hot days of Anaheim while playing on the green backyard, swinging on swing sets and jungle gyms.

Then as you two grew older, you grew closer too. And suddenly you were dating. Then you got married and then started your own family. But things hadn’t been easy. At least not with your careers. You two had been lucky enough to have your big break in Hollywood.

But, being a celebrity wasn’t easy and your marriage was crumbling down. This wasn’t a problem you could point at Austin or viceversa. This was a two-way street. You were both at fault. Never being together, never interacting, you two had stopped having sex, hugging each other, laughing with one another. You two were always very physical so you were in serious problems.

To try and make it work between you, the two of you planned a trip back to Anaheim. To try and rekindle your relationship that seemed to be dead by now. But at least he accepted.

You were with him inside the car as he drove around, you felt like a teenager again somehow. It was a funny feeling. You still remembered him driving you both around, the Stones on the radio, then parking behind some abandoned place to make out on the back. Good old days.

You guys went to his grandma’s home. The small, green house.

The old woman opened the door, her big smile appeared once she saw you. Albeit it faltered when she didn’t see her great-grandchildren

“Oh, my dearest loves!” His grandma said with excitement, hugging you first and then Austin. Typical.

Austin was happy to see his grandma and you too, this woman was basically your second grandma. As you made your way inside her house, you felt like a child again, the smell of grandma’s home was something you wish you’ll never forget. Because you were getting used to that god-awful smell of loneliness in New York. One that started to appear once Austin and you spent less and less time together.

When you two walked inside his childhood bedroom, you both were washed with a feeling of nostalgia, this room held too many memories. Still the same. The plaid sheets, the skateboard he only used once because he got scared, shelves full of trinkets, an old tv in the corner, movie posters as well as some Playboy posters.

“I remember this!” Austin ran to his bed and grabbed a stuffed animal. Like a little boy, he held it close to his chest and smelled it. Home. That’s what it smelled like.

As you looked around on your own, you stopped right in front of his cork board. It was filled with stuff from back then, dates and concert tickets. You saw a picture of you two, but eighteen years ago. Doing the math, you were fifteen. You looked extremely young, babies actually.

“I remember them.” You pointed out softly. How stupid and in love you both looked. Austin came to stand by your side, his hand reached to touch the photo, not his young self, but yours. He ran his finger through your face in the photo.

“Hey, we were tiny babies.” Austin spoke with a small smile. “We looked so in love.”

That was the problem, looked. Past. Austin looked like he was in love with anyone he met, except with you these past months. You weren’t blind, everyone could see it.

He acted so nonchalant after saying that, he moved away and went to the abandoned guitar. “Oh, remember this? How many times did I play you Wonderwall?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Enough to make me cringe.” You answered, still looking at the photo. You could still recall how many times you had to sit through him playing you Wonderwall by Oasis once he learned it. You hated that song now.

“Hey, it wasn’t so bad. Playing you that song made you want to sleep with me. Don’t deny it.” Austin said as he kept admiring his guitar.

“That was you. Not the guitar.” You rolled your eyes as you turned to look at him. How things have changed, how nostalgic everything was.

Back when you two actually loved each other, and when it wasn’t just the fact that you two were used to each other what kept you together.

Sitting on the backyard of his grandma’s house, you stared at the old jungle gym you two used to play in. As a matter of fact, the giggles and voices still lingered in the air, far, but audible.

“I remember how much of a brat you were. Always accusing me of things.” You said. “Oh! Grandma! Y/n pushed me again and I scrapped my knee!” You imitated a child’s voice.

God, you could still remember the scoldings you got from your own grandma. Sometimes he just lied because you didn’t let him get on the slide first.

“I always got I wanted.” He spoke, a small smile forming in Austin’s face as he stared down at his glass of lemonade. “I still do.”

“You still do.” You spoke as the same time as him. You both chuckled to which you both know it was true, Austin could get whatever he ever wanted or desired.

That’s why you were still here. No matter how miserable everything was. He had something that made you want to stay by his side. Perhaps it was the fact that for more than 20 years you had thought that he was the one.

“You weren’t an angel either. In still looking for a replacement of my Workin Out Barbie. You broke it. And filled it with sand.” You scoffed, side eyeing him.

“Oh, you and your stupid doll.” Austin rolled his eyes. Smiling. “I told you I would get you one.”

“Well, I’m still waiting.” You smiled at him. Waiting? For what?

For him to love you as he used to do? To make as much effort as he did before? You didn’t know but you were still waiting. For something.

You can still remember that one special, core memory. When you were young teenagers.

“Stop. This a really old magazine.” You groaned as you sat under the tree, covering you both from getting sunburns.

“Oh, an old magazine. Please, I wouldn’t want to ruin your stupid magazine.” Austin imitated your voice, albeit his was laced with sarcasm.

“Don’t be stupid. This is my grandma’s.” You rolled your eyes. An old vintage magazine from the early 70’s.

“Lemme see it. The women back then were hot.” Austin said as he took the magazine from you. He started to eye it, skipping through the pages until you stopped him.

“That’s how I want my wedding dress to be.” You pointed at a page filled with wedding dresses, 70’s dresses, long, flowy, with bell sheer sleeves and lace. Perfect.

“You will look pretty in our wedding.” Austin said, turning to look at you with a sheepish smile.

“Excuse me, our wedding?” You asked, confused and a bit flustered. To which he nodded, his smile even wider now.

“Actually…” Austin looked through the pocket of his shorts, pulling a small lip gloss ring. Plastic, with glitter. Which probably costed him few cents. “I got this last week when I went out with Ashley and my mom. This, is while we grow up and I have the money to buy a good one.”

You blushed, smiling shyly as he took your hand and placed the ring on your finger. It was cute and you two were also fifteen. He leaned in and kissed your lips. You corresponded, although you two never told each other if you were dating or not. You both acted like a couple as soon as you discovered that you could.

“And the lipgloss is strawberry and pink. Your favorite.”

He knew you too well. It made you pull him closer and kissed him once again, this time your arms went around his neck. You both giggled in the kiss.

But as you pulled away he grabbed the opened magazine and ripped off the page where the dress of your dreams was displayed.

“What are you doing?” You freaked out and took the magazine from his hands.

“So you remember. For our wedding.” He gave you the page. You took it, your eyes wide open still.

“If my grandma sees the magazine—” he cut you off as he looked at you, a smile forming on his lips.

“Fuck your grandma.” He said, finding it funny. You found it funny too. The old woman was always uptight but she was your grandma.

“Austin!” You giggled as you shoved him softly.

Your giggles filled the backyard, as the air felt fresh and light.

Now, staring at that very same tree, all you could feel was the uptight flickering, as well as the sharp sting of words stuck in your throat.

“Do you remember when they would take us to church?” Austin mentioned, playing with his rings. You wished his hand was in your face, you always loved when you felt his cold rings against your cheek as he caressed your bottom lip.

“Yes. Yes I do. Why do you think I don’t take the kids to church?” You shook your head.

“I won’t ever get over when the preacher’s voice cracked while giving his sermon.”

The moment lingered in your minds. You both started laughing like there was not an end, like in the old times. But the laugh died early, vanishing with sighs.

“We should have taken them here.” He cleared his throat.

In reality, Austin would rather fill this uncomfortable silence with the sound of your kids running and screaming. He hated the fact that you both were so close yet so far apart. It’s like he couldn’t even reach for you. And he hated that.

“We should visit the church. Maybe it’s still as small.” He stood up and fixed his belt.

You were in for a ride.

That talk with Austin had been way too bitterly nostalgic, what was the point in dwelling of something that couldn’t return, because it had slipped from your fingers, vanished with the wind, like dirt, you could see it fly away but you couldn’t stop it or see where it landed afterwards.

You hadn’t been here in so long, Church. The church your grandmas forced you to go to when they hung out. You still remembered the altar to pray in the corner of the small church.

So you two knelt in front of the altar, it was weird. You remembered vividly being young and never actually praying, you only closed your eyes and placed your hands together.

“I don’t even know what to pray for.” You chuckled, before turning to look at Austin.

Then, you saw it. Your worst nightmare, you saw him. Yes, Austin, but not him now. But his younger self, 17 years old. The one that took you to pray after your grandmother passed

“Whatever you wish. Is just between you and whoever you’re praying to.” He looked at you, smiling. To which you only stared in complete horror.

From his perspective, he couldn’t even stare at you, staring right in front of him strictly, he forced himself to not turn his head around to face you, because if he did, he remembered your seventeen year old self. The one that didn’t know who or how to pray, whose breath was shaky.

It was heartbreaking, very. Gulping and while you forced yourself to look at him due to the guilt, he couldn’t even look at you because of the guilt.

“Austin…” You tried to speak to him, but it was too much.

“It’s too late.” He said before standing up and leaving the small church immediately.

Without knowing what to do, you looked at him and then turned around, you took a deep breath and then followed him out the church.

“No, it’s not too late. We can work on this.” You raised your voice at him.

“Really? Because I couldn’t even fucking look at you.” He turned around. Almost growling. “There’s nothing we can’t do anymore. Nothing that we haven’t done already.”

“If there’s guilt then there’s love!” You tried to excuse everything. “Why would we feel guilty if we supposedly do not care for each other anymore?”

“It’s not love. We’re just used to each other at this point! Listen, we can’t even stand each other anymore. That’s the point.” Austin spoke, his hand in his hip while his other rubbed his temple.

You stared at him. Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that your heart was breaking, but the fact that you would lose that certainty that he would always be there. Because he had always been.

“No, listen. From the beginning I knew this wouldn’t work. I just did this for the sake of nostalgia. But I cannot keep pretending. I really, really care for you. But all of this— it’s over.”

Definitely, it was the whole fucking truth but you just didn’t want to accept it.

The more it hurts, the less it shows.

“Listen, I’ve talked about this with my lawyer. Alright? It sounds bad but I just— I had to. We can get to an agreement. A quiet and calm divorce.”

To see Austin, the man who swore to never get a divorce, who didn’t want to repeat the story of his parents and childhood, ask you for a divorce. It hurt quite a lot actually, a burning pain in your chest.

“You know what? You may be right. This won’t work.” You tried to act tough. But you were crumbling inside.

As soon as you both were on your own. You both sobbed your hearts out privately. How weird. If you guys wanted a fictive so bad then why did it hurt so fucking much that it burned?

You nodded your head as you stopped the tears from falling.

“A divorce it is.”

[fuzzyduckduckyfuzz]

after all this time I still found you Timebomb part 8

Summary- months after jinx’s “death” Ekko had gone into a spiral, making everyone around his worried. He can’t stop the feeling that maybe she’s still out there, and it’s only when he finally goes looking for her that his dream and nightmare comes true

warnings- hella angst, some fluffity fluff, uh oh curse words, also mentions of depression and alcohol abuse.

Once again, Ekko found himself literally sprinting through the undercity, manoeuvring his way through bustling streets as he ran towards the fire light base. He was happy he had finally opened this place up to the public, happy him and his allies didn’t have to make a difference in silence anymore. He smiled fondly as he remembered vi and Caitlyn’s reaction to the news.

flash back

“What?!?” Vi exclaimed jumping up from her chair.

Caitlyn grabbed her by the shirt and tugged her back down to sit, a warm smile on her lips

“that’s a lovely idea Ekko. Opening your services to the public” she says kindly

“damn right it’s a good idea!!” Vi explained. A proud grin on her face as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest “I’m proud of you little man…but how exactly are you guys gonna pull that off?”

“wellll…i was thinking…with your guises help?” He says, his voicing getting higher pitched as he goes on. He knows it’s a large ask especially after…everything. But this is something he new he couldn’t do without there help.

“oh! Well…” Caitlyn trails off, she shifts her gaze to vi and then to you. Vi looked at her with a pleading puppy look that made Ekko snicker, and Caitlyn told her eyes “fine fine…we can help you out Ekko” she says, a fond smile in her lips

vi jumps up again and pumps her fist in the air “Hell yeah!!” She pauses when she notices one of the maids of the kiramman estate looking at her. She was unaware she had even walked in.

vi clears her throat and sits back down, feigning a calm persona as she clears her throat. “Ahem.i mean, yes Ekko that sounds great”

the maid quickly walks away from the awkward situation and Caitlyn and vi burst out laughing, but at the back of Ellis mind all he can think is “jinx…powder, would’ve loved this”….

end of flash back

Ekko chuckles to himself at the memory, but quickly shakes his head. He can’t dwell on the past when he has such an important mission to take care of. He soon reaches the entrance to the base and sprints inside, passing by other firelights quick so they don’t try and start a conversation, stalling his plan.

he must have looked like a goddamn crazy person, practically tearing the base apart trying to find this stupid clue from jinx, with literally no explanation from him to the other people in the building. When he finally thinks he thought of the wrong goddamn place, he remembers. His room! He hasn’t checked his room!

He raced through the building, making a b line to his room. He practically kicks in the door as he enters and he immediately starts tearing his already disastrous room apart even more. He has to step over clothes and empty booze bottles as he frantically looks around. He glances in the direction of his bed and, he had to admit, his bed looked extra comfortable after being out since the last night and the sun now almost fully risen.

he was having no goddamn luck finding this clue. Non at all. He lets out a frustrated huff and slams his fist into the desk, causing the area and surfaces around it to vibrate, and guess what falls on his head in that very moment. You guess it! The fucking clue! He lets out an annoyed grumble as he picks up the tin monkey.

“this is getting old.” He mutters as he takes the piece of paper from the monkeys hands. He unfolds it and reads the next clue

“haza! Haza! You found the damned clue! The next one my friend is rather close to you. A friend of mine and yours both very close bonds, holds the next clue that defines the odds”

he reads it am immediately knows who this person is but isn’t any less confused. Vi? How? Was she in on this? Did she know jinx was alive??

he continued to ask questions in his mind when he glasses at the window and sees…a peak of blue hair from the other side…that was without a doubt jinxes hair.

“jinx?!” He cries, running over to the glass door. He frantically opens it but just as he does, her hair disappears out of sight. He looks around in absolutely every direction calling out her name…nothing.

“…I think I’m starting to go fucking crazy…”