#soon i will return soon i promise i promise i promise

[pathologicalreid]

christmas (baby please come home) | s.r.

in which Spencer isn't home to put his kids to bed on Christmas Eve, but they wake up to a surprise on Christmas morning

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: spencer's first post prison christmas, frankensteined the plot of "surface tension", the same family as "here with me", crying, christmas word count: 3.19k a/n: merry christmas!! this is kinda like my gift to you, mostly since it's been sitting in my brain for forever!!!!!!! i love u all! also happy first day of hanukkah if you celebrate <33

“But Daddy’s not home,” your daughter whimpered as she shuffled under her covers, she looked up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You carefully smoothed out the top of her floral comforter, “I know, baby,” you whispered, reaching up to pinch her cheek affectionately. You’d let them stay up late to watch the Santa tracker, but eventually, Finn fell asleep on you, and Livvy’s yawns were enough to convince you that it was bedtime. “You still have to go to sleep. Santa will come whether Daddy’s home or not, and we’ll just do the gifts from Mommy and Daddy when he gets back.”

At three years old, Olivia was beginning to understand Spencer being gone the same way Eleanor did; she knew his absence was entirely out of her control, and that didn’t sit well with your middle child. You knew you had gotten incredibly lucky when Spencer had been home for Finn’s birthday and Livvy’s had fallen during his sabbatical, but you also knew that you were due for a missed holiday, you just wished it could’ve been Thanksgiving or New Year’s.

You kissed her forehead before leaving, making sure to leave the door open a crack so the monsters wouldn’t get her before you went to Nell’s room. “Hey, honey,” you whispered, closing your eldest’s door behind you before going to sit on the edge of her bed. She had her own Christmas tree set up in the corner of the room, the artificial purple tree providing the glow that her nightlight normally would. “Are you ready for bed?”

Nell was lying on top of her covers, staring at her still ceiling fan as she ignored your question. While Livvy was just starting to understand what it meant when Spencer was gone, Nell understood it best, and she had for years now. She’d understood when Spencer was in prison, and she understood that he was missing Christmas now.

Slowly, you laid down next to your daughter, propping your head up on the bed and smoothing her hair back. “It’s still Christmas,” you tried to reassure her, but part of you knew that it was a thankless effort, there was nothing you could tell her that would fix her father’s absence. “We can call Dad in the morning while we open presents,” you offered, hoping she’d appreciate you coming halfway. “If he’s not busy, maybe we can video chat, and you can show him everything Santa brought you.”

“It’s not the same,” she told you, furrowing her brows and turning away from you on the bed.

Sighing, you pressed a kiss to the back of her head, “I know, Nellie. I know it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to be here for Christmas, but Daddy will come back.” There was a sense of urgency in your voice; you were afraid that if your five-year-old lost the joy in Christmas, you’d somehow failed her as a mother. “He’ll be home for your birthday, I promise,” you whispered.

“You can’t promise,” she reminded you, knowing that you and Spencer were generally very specific about your promises, leaning toward the ‘I promise I’ll try’ variety.

You hummed in response, “I’d pinky promise you that. Dad will be home for your birthday.” You held up your pinky finger, waiting for her to roll over and reciprocate.

Eleanor rolled over, holding up her pinky finger while brown eyes watched you apprehensively, “Okay,” she breathed, hooking your fingers together and kissing them.

As soon as Spencer told you about the bureau’s contingency to him returning to the BAU, you’d done the math. Eleanor’s sixth birthday would fall near the beginning of his next sabbatical, so you didn’t hesitate to make this promise. “It’s time for bed, my girl,” you whispered, smiling at her softly as she pulled the sleeves of her Christmas pajamas over her hands. “Santa can’t come if you’re not asleep,” you reminded her, sitting up on the bed and getting up, tucking her purple comforter under her chin before you made your final stop of the night.

You’d brought Finn to his room before getting the girls settled, but now that you knew they were alright, you came back to his room. The white noise machine was going, and he was fast asleep in his crib. His pacifier, which you were trying to wean him off of, had fallen from his mouth and onto the sheets, so you set it to the side. To you, the second Christmas was always more exciting than the first, now that he was fourteen months old, he had the dexterity to help open presents.

Ruffling his hair, you kissed him goodnight, just like you’d done with the girls, and you left his room, closing the door so that no one would disturb the light-sleeping baby.

There was a late night ahead of you, but first, you settled yourself onto the couch in the living room and pulled out your phone. Upon opening your messages with Spencer, you couldn’t help but be disappointed to find that there was nothing unread. You thought about sending him a text telling him that you all miss him but eventually decided against it. You didn’t want to make him feel guilty. At least, no more guilty than he likely already did.

You turned on the TV, quietly playing a Christmas movie as you began the festivities. All of the gifts had been expertly hidden in the master bedroom, split between being shoved under your bed and in your closet, but a new playhouse for the girls had been dropped off earlier. It was too big for your room, so your parents had stored it in their basement in the interim.

That would be a struggle to bring in from the garage, so you decided to start small, pulling all of the kids’ stockings from their hooks and laying them out on the floor before going upstairs to get the stuffers.

With the movie playing, you filled the stockings with treats and little toys. A few times you imagined your phone buzzing, but each time there was nothing on the screen. The loneliness started to set in as you rehung the stockings, making sure the kids’ names faced forward above the fireplace.

This wasn’t your first Christmas alone, Spencer had been in Idaho for Olivia’s first Christmas, but neither of the girls remembered it.

They’d remember this one, you thought to yourself, walking back up the stairs to grab a load of boxes. Thankfully, they were already wrapped, but you did have to avoid getting ribbon in your mouth as you carried the armful of gifts down the stairs.

Masterfully, you adjusted them beneath the tree, trying to visualize where they’d all end up in the end as you heard something distantly, but you brushed it off as someone leaving your neighbor’s holiday party. You stood up, wiping your hands on your pajamas as you evaluated your handiwork, shrugging before you turned around for the next load, “Oh,” you breathed, watching the handle on the door from the garage turn.

The door opened slowly, revealing your husband on the other side, his black peacoat draped over his arm and purple scarf looped around his neck. He hooked his car keys on the key hook before he noticed you, brown eyes finding your pajama-clad figure. His lopsided smile was all-knowing as always, he knew he had surprised you. In fact, it had been his goal.

You remained exactly where you were, watching him from the den as he put his shoes away and hung up his outerwear. It was almost as if you’d convinced yourself he was a mirage, and any sudden movements would cause his visage to dissipate. “Hey,” Spencer said, cocking his head at you as if he were confused why you hadn’t come any closer to him. He peeked around you to look at the tree, “Did the kids get to bed okay?”

Instead of answering him, your body naturally responded to what seemed like the miraculous appearance of your husband by producing tears. At first, they just welled along your lash line, but as they started to fall, you buried your face in your hands.

Spencer was there, not only in the house but also taking the initiative to approach you, he wrapped his arms around your torso, taking your tearful form under his care, “Is everything alright?” He asked, slowly dragging his hand up and down your spine, humming as you reciprocated his embrace and pressed your face into his shirt, drying your eyes and taking in the moment.

“Everything is wonderful,” you responded, your voice muffled by his shirt. He smelled like stale dark roast and the jet, but you were too relieved by his arrival to truly mind.

Tightening his grip briefly, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “Right, well. You’re crying, so I had to make sure,” he murmured, swaying gently to the music coming from the film.

You loosed a breath of relief, “I can’t believe you’re here. The kids were miserable at bedtime, Nell wouldn’t even talk to me until I told her you’ll be home for her birthday,” you informed him, keeping your arms wrapped firmly around him while you tipped your head back to see him.

Spencer nodded in understanding, reaching up a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “We made the arrest at eight and wrapped up around nine. Somehow, Emily convinced the pilot to leave in the middle of the night, and we were on the jet by ten. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent holidays in worse places, but I’d rather be here with you than in Milwaukee.”

“I will kiss Emily Prentiss on the mouth,” you told him candidly.

He raised his brows curiously, “Mhm, and what about me?”

Grinning, you pushed up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his, an amalgamation of a welcome home and a Merry Christmas kiss, but you pulled away before you could get carried away. “Merry Christmas, Spencer Reid, we have work to do,” you told him, taking on a mock seriousness as you nodded your head toward the Christmas tree, which only had a fraction of your kids’ gifts beneath it.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” Spencer reciprocated, pressing one more kiss to your lips, “Let’s get started.”

Spinning out of his grip, you found you had much more pep in your step with his arrival, beaming as the two of you went through the house as quietly as possible, gathering the gifts for the kids without rousing any suspicion. Even grabbing the playhouse from the garage didn’t seem like as much of a task with him around.

You adjusted the stockings as it neared two in the morning, Spencer returned from upstairs with the last few gifts, having changed his clothes into pajamas that neatly matched yours—a family set that was a gift from your Penelope. “They look great,” Spencer assured you, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he stood back, admiring your handiwork.

Walking backward until your back was against your chest, you tilted your head to the side, appraising the mountain of gifts beneath the tree, “Do you think we went overboard this year?” Between the gifts from Santa and the gifts from the two of you, the heap was rather intimidating.

“No,” Spencer answered, “bigger kids, bigger gifts.” He put his arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head, “besides, they’re good kids.”

You hummed in response, leaning into him ever so slightly. Part of you felt like Spencer was still experiencing guilt surrounding the three months he spent away from you and the kids while he was in prison. No amount of time at home or therapy would ever absolve him of that guilt, but it never hurt to try, “Hey,” you whispered up to him, “I got you something.”

He frowned down at you, “I thought we said no gifts this year?”

Scoffing, you walked over to the home office, “We say that every year and neither of us ever stick to it, so go get whatever it is you got for me.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, but even so, he made his way upstairs to where you knew a gift was hiding in his bedside table. Upon his return, he faltered at the large box you’d placed on the coffee table and held up the small box in his hands; you beamed at him as he eyed the behemoth of a present.

He handed you the smaller box, instinctively, you admired the wrapping before starting to open it, recognizing the jewelry box before you had even discarded your wrapping paper. “Oh, Spence,” you said, looking at the necklace in the box, a dainty chain with five small gemstones on it. His birthstone and yours, followed by Nell’s amethyst, Livvy’s sapphire, and Finn’s tourmaline all strung next to each other, “it’s perfect,” you told him, lightly touching the gems with your fingertips. You’d mentioned wishing you had an everyday necklace a few weeks ago while getting ready, and he must’ve been listening more attentively than you’d thought.

Finally, you had him open his gift, and he was entirely speechless as he opened the cardboard flaps. His mouth gaped as he lifted one of the books in his hand, the title and edition identical to one that had been previously ruined in your house. “Fuck,” he cursed, looking from you to the books and back again.

You shrugged, “It’s not all of them, but a pretty good amount of them. Some of those editions are proving difficult to recover, but I’ve—” You’re cut off, startled by Spencer pressing his lips to yours. “I’m still looking for some,” you said breathlessly once he pulled away.

Spencer seemed unsure of what to do with himself; you’d managed to find replacements for three-fourths of the books that had previously been burned by an accidental fire set earlier this year. The only time your marriage had ever been on the rocks was when Diana lived with you, but even then, you’d been planning this surprise. “You are…” Spencer started, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, “This is incredible,” he told you, shaking his head in disbelief, setting the book down in the box and nearly tackling you in a hug.

Laughing, you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound, “I love you,” you murmured to him, his body now next to yours on the couch.

“I love you too,” he said, looking at you with glassy eyes. “Wow,” he said, sniffling, “I need to get you something else. A necklace isn’t enough,” he told you, likely already thinking of options for addendums.

You shook your head, “Trust me when I tell you that your being here is worth all of the rare books in the world to me,” you reassured him, running your fingers through his hair. Humming, you adjusted your head on the pillow, “Are you gonna fall asleep like this?”

He nodded, “If you keep playing with my hair like that. How long do you think we have until they wake up?” He asked, keeping his eyes closed while you peeked over him to check the time.

Last year, Finn had woken up the whole house on Christmas Day at four in the morning, and seeing as it was nearing three, you wondered if it was worth sleeping at all. You continued combing through Spencer’s hair, “Do you want to go upstairs?”

“This is a really great couch,” he mumbled, already falling asleep on the couch, leading you to grab the blanket that was thrown over the back and haphazardly drape it over the two of you.

Unfortunately, it felt like you’d gotten no sleep at all when you heard the first stirring upstairs, “Mommy,” Olivia called out, which would likely wake up Finn and Nell.

You got up from the couch, waking up Spencer in the process. Your poor husband, who was probably already running on little sleep, got up and folded the blanket you had been using, returning it to its home while you went upstairs to get the kids.

Livvy’s eyes went wide when she saw you come from downstairs, “Did Santa come?” She asked you, nearly bouncing with excitement.

As you expected, the door to Eleanor’s room swung open, revealing your sleep-deprived five-year-old in her rumpled pajamas, “Yes, Santa brought gifts for everyone,” you answered, ruffling her hair before going into Finn’s room, hoping to wake him gently before the voices did a less delicate job. “Hi buddy,” you whispered, looking back to see the girls gathered at the door, completely unaware that their dad was waiting for them downstairs. “Merry Christmas,” you said softly, his scrunched face not processing what you were saying, but happy to see you, nonetheless.

You picked him up from the crib and herded the girls to the stairs, letting them lead the way down while you carried the baby. Right behind them, you watched the realization dawn on their faces as soon as they caught sight of Spencer, “Daddy!” Nell shouted, leading her little sister as they ran to him.

Laughing lightly, you let a squirming Finn down, running to Spencer in the same way the girls just had. From a distance, you watched as all three of your kids entirely bypassed the gifts under the tree and on the mantle and went straight to what was more important—their father was home for Christmas.

Spencer crouched down to get Finn, and at the same time, Livvy jumped in excitement, leaving Spencer falling backward and sitting on the ground while the kids formed a less-than-graceful dog pile on the floor. You took that as your cue to join in on the festivities, kneeling on the floor next to the familial pile, uncontrollable giggles emanated from everyone involved.

You wrangled the two littles in your arms, giving each of them dozens of kisses and receiving more laughter in return as Eleanor settled down. Your eldest took her moment of alone time and laid her head on Spencer’s chest, the grin on her face overtook the rest of her face, “Best Christmas ever,” she whispered before rolling off of him, Spencer instinctively lifting his hand so she doesn’t hit her head on the leg of the coffee table.

Nellie sat up giving you a toothy grin, sticking her tongue through where she was missing a front tooth. Everyone took notice of Olivia pointing at the tree, her mouth shaped like an “o” in awe, “Can we open that one?” She asked, pointing to the largest present in the stack—which, of course, had her name on it.

“Stockings first,” Spencer said, leading to a pout from your middle child, but it was quickly wiped away when he kissed the crown of her head. Your husband got up first, taking Finn from where he was tucked into your side, and set him on his hip, “Okay, who wants their stocking?”

Everyone’s hand went up—including yours.

[ryescapades]

*ੈ‧₊༺ SANDY BEACHES AND SINFUL BLISS.

characters: itoshi sae (bllk) x afab!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! explicit, unprotected p in v, fingering, semi-public, implied masturbation, anal/double pen. (use of a toy), backshots, blindfolds, dirty talk, petnames (amor, baby, babe, love), established rs, sae takes a pic of u (lmk if there's more ..) wc ~ 2.2k

a/n: a generalized version of another secret santa entry !! i’m glad you liked my gift @lumiambrose <3

Spain's beaches are always a sight to behold, no matter the time of day.

The sun has long disappeared into the horizon, the sky now pitch black with only the night lights from the festivities a few metres away illuminating the area. The balcony you’re currently lounging on is two-storey high, the sound of joyful chatters and laughter filling your ears as a cool draught of air softly whips over the tresses of your hair.

Leaning against the railing as your eyes remain locked on the waves gently lapping up the shore, you tuck a loose strand behind your ear and reminisce about the times you’d spent in other wonderful places such as this, most of the time courtesy of your boyfriend.

Sae, the ever-so-nonchalant man that he is, rarely says it outright, but you know he loves having you around, loves having you close and within his reach, loves knowing you’re there waiting for him after each grueling day. Why else would he always have two tickets ready whenever he has an away game if not to bring you along on his trip? Why else would he book an entire beach house instead of staying at the hotel like the rest of his teammates?

Sure, the hours when he’s away for practice would feel a little lonely at times, but that’s the more reason for you to anticipate his return, for the reward he’d been saving for you at the end of the day will only grow sweeter.

Life with Sae can be gradual and relaxed, yet thrilling in the way that he would try to explore anything and everything with you, if only you’d so much as ask for it.

Life with him makes you feel… full. In more ways than one.

The sound of the door unlocking catches your attention, and the soft pitter patter of footsteps that follow only sends a rush of excitement through you. Soon enough, a pair of rough hands settle on your hips, a strong chest leaning against the span of your back.

“Have you been good, amor?” Your boyfriend whispers in your ear, his breath brushing against your skin almost in a seductive way. No ‘hi, hello, how’s your day?’ and whatnot. He gets straight to the point, as always.

That’s your man alright.

The corner of your lips curls upwards. “Hello to you too, handsome. What can I help you with today?” You cheekily ask.

The redhead scoffs, though in a lighthearted way. “You could help me with many things, love. How about we start with answering my question first, hm?” He says, causing you to playfully pout at his response, “Well, what do you think?”

Sae’s hands start to slowly move up and down on the side of your waist, warmth seeping from his touch through your clothes. A meek gesture, giving and nearly domestic in a way if not for the promise of his next words.

“If I tell you what I think, you wouldn’t be able to properly stand in the next few minutes, amor.” He murmurs, hands drifting lower beneath the shirt you’re wearing before his fingers firmly spreads your asscheeks.

A gasp is pulled out of your mouth, the buttplug you’d been keeping inside you accidentally dragging against your ribbed walls from his ministrations.

Oops, he already figured it out, hasn’t he?

You were supposed to stay good. Keep the plug nice and warm inside your hole, no touching nor masturbation whatsoever until he gets back. But how could you not?

When Sae kept sending you those godforsaken thirst traps from his gym and practice sessions? The way his sinewy muscles stretched oh so deliciously against the fabric of his sweat-soaked shirt, the way his thick veiny thighs were bulging after the rigorous workout, and the freaking post-session shower?

You should’ve been considered a saint for the only thing you did was get yourself off one time the whole day with your fingers.

“Can’t blame a girl for having such wild fantasies,” you huff, feeling his fingers dipping into the heat between your thighs. With the lack of underwear on your side, Sae lowly hums when he makes contact with your slick, sounding both pleased at himself and dissatisfied with your answer.

“Well, would you look at that… you’re still dripping wet. This all from the pics I sent you?” Your eyebrows pinch together, trying to come up with a sarcastic remark as you eye the people who are walking by in the distance.

“I –“

“Fingers or tongue?” Sae cuts you off, catching you off guard. “W-wait – here?” You ask as you finally turn to look at him. His auburn hair softly blows with the night wind much like your own, and Sae tentatively reaches up to bring the thick locks over to one of your shoulders. His lidded teal eyes gauge yours with a perfectly raised eyebrow as if in challenge.

You’re not one to say no to any of his advances, of course. After all, you’re just as freaky insatiable as he is, if not more.

Seeing an answer enough from the relaxed expression on your face, Sae decides for you. “My fingers it is then.”

Almost immediately, he plunges two digits into your sopping cunt, causing you to let out a surprised squeal. Gripping hard on the railing, your body starts squirming as he straight away sets a quick pace.

“Oh shit, Sae–“ Your breath trembles with each thrust of his thick fingers, more of your juices trickling down the inside of your thighs.

He doesn’t let up his speed. If anything, it only seems like he’s going faster with how much louder the gushing sound of your pussy can be heard. Your back bows slightly over the railing from how hard he’s going, though you don’t stay there long before you swivel your head back again, hand fisting at the collar of his crisp white shirt to roughly pull him down into a kiss.

Your little growl mixes with his grunt as your lips and teeth clash in a fiery dance. Your legs are on the verge of trembling, and you’re so so close to coming on his magical fingers.

Your boyfriend has always enjoyed seeing you unravel before him, enjoyed seeing you come undone so quickly even when he’s not using his dick to fuck you silly. You’re so pliant, so malleable under his touch, and yet you still got that fire in you to somehow fight him back.

You’re an insufferable brat, but you’re his insufferable brat. One whose pussy that he loves making a mess of.

At this point you don’t even care about the mass of passerby who could probably see you even from that far away. They can watch for all you care. In this moment, only you and Sae and the earth-shattering orgasms he’s gracing you with exist in this world.

(Though you’re a bit glad the house he rented isn’t smacked right on the centre of the beach where lots of people will see if that was ever the case.)

“Come on, baby. Give me one before I have to fuck you dumb on my cock,” he mumbles. “Or do you need someone below to see how slutty you look right now, hm?” His other hand moves to the buttplug, slowly pushing it deeper inside your ass.

If it wasn’t in your stomach already, then it certainly is now.

You don’t bother giving him an answer because soon enough, you’re coming all over his hand with a whiny moan, your slick running down his wrist like rich honey.

Sae pulls his fingers out with a few last taps on your sticky clit, casually sucking and licking your cum off the digits before planting a kiss on the side of your head. “Good girl.”

True to his words, your legs feel like jelly from how hard he was going as you lean all your weight back against his body for support. Taking note of this, Sae spins you around before lifting you into his arms, walking you both to the bedroom just adjacent to the balcony.

All the while he’s carrying you inside, you mouth at the exposed skin of his neck, occasionally sucking and biting until the fair canvas turns raw and red from your teeth. He can reprimand (or punish) you later for giving him such visible hickeys where other people might notice. For now, you decide it’s best to indulge yourself first.

Sae sets you down onto the bed before he reaches down to pull his shirt over his head, helping you get your clothes off as well right after. “Turn around, amor. Let me see,” he instructs.

You know exactly what he means, and with a teasing smile thrown his way, you maneuver yourself to settle on your elbows and knees.

Your inner thighs are still coated with a light sheen of your arousal, wet and shiny under the dim light of the room. Using both his thumbs to soil the wetness further on your skin so near to your core, he takes in the way your cunt clenches around nothing as the plug sits cutely in your other hole. Without waiting any second longer, Sae unbuckles his belt to push his pants and boxers off, pumping himself a few times before guiding the tip against your tight entrance.

Your immense slick makes it so much easier for him to slide home, so warm and wet and tight around his cock. He lets out a low groan as your walls envelope him as easily as a sleeve, your pleased moan singing in his ears like a dirty melody.

Very much filled to the brim, both of your holes are so stretched out until there are tears clinging to your lashes.

“Fuck, stay right there, baby.” He bites down on his lips, hips stilling after bottoming out before reaching over to the nightstand, the movement causing his blunt head to involuntarily nudge against your cervix. Sae curses just as you keen at the contact, his hand grabbing the tie he’d left haphazardly after leaving the press event yesterday.

Breath hitching at the sight of the fabric in his hand, you let out a breathless chuckle as your cheek presses on the bed. “You wanna tie me up, babe?” You drawl teasingly, already half-drunk from the feeling of his cock filling you up.

A hint of a smirk appears on the midfielder’s lips. “In a way,” he replies. You’re about to ask what he means by that when he leans towards you, pulling the tie over your eyes instead, hiding away the green hues he adores so much. “Oh,”

The grin on his face grows wider now that your sense of sight has been stripped away as he neatly knots the tie behind your head. “Yeah, oh.”

“Now hold on tight, would you?” That’s all the warning you get before he begins pistoning his hips against yours in a fervor, eliciting a choked moan out of your parted lips.

“O-oh, god - fuck!” The pleasure is intensified, zaps of electricity creeping up the back of your spine and piling over tenfold as the lack of vision only makes everything feels more sensitive and raw, amplified. “That’s it. Take my cock, amor.” His cock continues to drill into you, your cries and whimpers of his name and his deep grunts bouncing off the walls of the room.

Ass jiggling and drenched pussy lips stretching around his girth every time he plunges in, Sae has never seen such a staggeringly addicting sight in all his life.

He makes good use of the buttplug by shallowly moving it in and out, the dual stimulation making you bury your face into the comforter as you muffle your scream.

He can feel you clamping down on him, squeezing him so tightly that he swears he could see stars behind his lids. With both of you now close to reaching that peak, his pace only increases albeit becoming a little sloppier.

A few bruising thrusts later and you’re sent over the edge, your climax coursing over you like a tidal wave. Your pleasured cries become the final push that Sae needed before he quickly pulls out, roughly stroking himself using your cum until his own shoots out in thick ropes of white onto the globes of your ass.

He groans, a low throaty sound of satisfaction rumbling from his chest as he stares at the mess he left on your skin. Grabbing his phone that had dropped onto the bed sometime prior, he takes a quick snap before reaching over to slip the blindfold off.

Your eyes blink at the sudden brightness, thighs shaking and body spent as your top half remains laid on the bed. “Sae…? Did you just take a picture?” You ask out of curiosity from the brief sound you’d heard.

He gently pulls out the plug, rubbing at the sore skin when you let out a little yelp before he wipes his cum off your ass, smearing them right on your pussy instead. He then gives you a non-committal hum, “Yes. Now lay down properly. I’m not finished.”

Much to both of your delight, he’s not even close to being done with you. Hasn’t scratched the surface of what he had planned for you, even. Not now, not anytime soon.

Oh, you’re in for a long night ahead.

character development but it's just rye writing (lots of and more detailed) smut

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[the-medieval-husbands]

It just keeps happening.....

Merlin doesn't know if he wants to stop it, or if he should? And the worst part is Arthur doesn't even notice he's kissed him.

First time:

After dinner, Merlin cleared the plates, then returned to ready the royal clotpole for bed. After making sure he was dressed in his sleep shirt, Arthur simply leaned down and gave him the lightest kiss, turned and started getting into bed, saying goodnight. He could see the moment it clicked in Arthurs head, yet he just kept going. Merlin excused himself and the next morning nobody mentioned it.

Second time:

Before his tournament match against sir chamberlain, Merlin was putting on his armor.

"Please Arthur. You need to listen. Be quick. Don't underestimate him. I watched him train." Merlin pleaded.

Arthur leaned in and cut off any further words with a kiss. "I'll be fine love. Now hand me my sword."

In a daze Merlin retrieves the sword and hands it off, turning back to Around seeing on his face that he again knows what he's done. They need to talk about this but not now. Not before he goes out there. So Arthur nods once, and walks out of the tent.

3rd time :

Duke Bohun would not leave him alone. Everywhere Merlin looked, there he was. Honestly it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so handsy. The amount of times thay Merlin has had to subtly remove himself from groping range is getting out of hand. He's just glad Arthur hadn't seen...... Or we'll, was glad.

The Duke was seated next to Arthur at the farewell banquet, which meant that while Merlin was ensuring that Arthurs cup was always full, Lord Bohun would have plenty of grab time.

Maybe if he approached from the other side?

As the night wore on, and the wine seated in their stomachs and minds, it also loosened their lips.

"That is a lovely man servant you have there. I don't suppose you'd lend him to me for a night? I promise I'd return him just as I received him." Duke Bohun slurred while leering in his direction.

"Lord Bohun, I don't know how things are done elsewhere. But here in Camelot our servants are people, not objects. We do not give them away, nor lend them for a night." Arthur could feel himself getting more and more angry with every word.

Before the situation could escalate further Merlin out a gentle hand on Arthur shoulder.

Taking that as a sign, Arthur took a deep breath. " If you'll excuse me, I think it's best that I retire for the night." he turns to his man servant "Merlin"

"Coming sire"

No sooner are they in the hall does Arthur have Merlin against a wall and locked in one of the most passionate moments he's ever experienced. Arthur is holding Merlin like he might lose him.

Slowly they part. Merlin strokes the back of Arthurs head gently. As soon as their breathing returns to normal, Arthurs entire body tenses in realization.

Merlin, instead of getting mad gently lifts his head to look at him. They stare intently. He can see how scared Arthur is.

Merlin leans forward, and for the first time, he kisses him.

"It's okay." he gently tugs on the hair on the back of his head. Not hard. Just enough to show that he's in the moment with him.

Arthur smiles.

[human-monokuma]

"Thanks, Uncle Mikado. I appreciate hearing you say that." *Monokuma chuckles.* "I promise to do every thing I can to make up for all of y mistakes when we get back home."

"Returnign home....Actually, that is something I want to talk to you guys about. I...don't think I'll be returning home any time soon."

"What? Why?"

"Because I thought about it. Looking back at everything that's happened with Aiguo, the tree, future foundation, Danganronpa, and many other things, I feel like if I did return to the Earth, I'm just going to end up dragging everyone into another mess that'll get them hurt or worse. And besides, I'm a sinner anyway. Isn't it fair that I pay my dues? So basically, I think I'm going to be staying in Hell from now on."

*Achlys knocks on Husk's tent, trying to get his attention.*

"Hey. Husk, was it? I need you help with something. Something that's really important." @nastrond-and-valhalla

Husk looked to see Achlys. "Oh, hey Achlys. Sup? How can i help?"

[paceprompting]

cinnamon buns

written for ‘christmas’ | wc: 736 # | steddie | rated: t | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: post season four, pre-relationship, fluff, steve has a crush on eddie, and vice versa, christmas together

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Wayne always managed to get Christmas off. Every year.

Eddie didn’t know what exactly he promised in return to manage it, but ever since little eight-year-old Eddie Munson shuffled into the trailer to live with his uncle, every Christmas had been theirs.

Wayne always woke up first, setting out the presents collected throughout the year and hidden under his bed—and Eddie hadn’t peeked since that first year—nursing his first cup of coffee while in his pajamas until Eddie emerged.

When he was still little, he’d bum-rush the tree and tear open the presents, but soon the little traditions emerged.

Playing Rudolph and Year Without a Santa Claus on VCR tapes that survived years of rewatches, but no interdimensional portals.

Cinnamon buns from tins for breakfast, always burnt around the edges and covered in icing—but they split the best one from the middle.

And the last present was always, always Wayne’s. It took several years for Eddie’s wrapping skills to actually look like the box he was wrapping, but Wayne never said a word.

It was one of those Christmases that Eddie got his first set of dice.

Government hush money bought a decent house for them, with real insulation and top-of-the-line boiler. Just in time for Christmas. Wayne actually had a real hiding place for the presents this time, and no matter how hard Eddie had looked, he’d have to wait until next year to find it.

They could get real lights, too. Not just the couple of strings that wouldn’t overload the trailer’s generator.

They also had to, since those lights were carted off to some Area 51 with the rest of the things the government wanted to pretend had never happened until maybe they could use it to their own benefit.

One other thing had changed this Christmas, too.

There were three of them this year.

Eddie heard the crunch of tires on asphalt from the kitchen. He was supposed to be setting up the ham to go in the oven—which he’d never done in his life, yet he’d volunteered—and he’d only gotten as far as preheating the oven.

So, he headed straight for the front door, sans any sort of jacket or shoes.

Eddie had hated the cold most of his life.

When you lived in a metal box with shitty heating on a good day, the cold months meant shivering through showers, mainlining coffee just to be warm for a couple minutes and layering blankets because sweating was better than losing a toe.

But there was something about Steve Harrington in the cold.

Or, more specifically, in the snow.

He eased out of the driver’s side of the Beemer, running a hand through his hair. His shoulders filled out the blue denim of his jacket, which matched his jeans—which stretched over his pert butt.

Not that Eddie was looking. For too long.

Maybe Eddie liked the cold a little bit more now.

But the whole reason Steve had bent over in the first place was to bring out a few things from his backseat. He held them behind his back as he straightened, and Eddie pouted as he trudged through the snow onto the porch.

His cheeks were pink when joined Eddie by the front door, ducking his head as he offered a hello.

“Hey, Eds,” he said.

Eddie leaned over to try and peer at what Steve had behind his back, eyes widening when Steve brought out a Tupperware that looked like it had several stacks of cookies, warm enough to steam up the inside.

“For me?” he asked, raising his brows.

Steve let him take the cookies with no comment.

“No, I thought it’d be rude not to bring something.” He shrugged, and it took Eddie a moment to realize that his other arm was still bent behind him. Eddie stared pointedly, and Steve smiled before revealing a more Christmas-y gift—in red and green plaid wrapping paper and white ribbon. “This is, though.”

Eddie immediately swapped cookies for the present, holding it close with a wide grin.

Steve cocked his head, sliding his hands (probably cold) into his pockets. “You’re not going to open it?”

He propped his present on his hip and reached forward to grab onto Steve’s wrist. With probably wild eyes, Eddie met Steve’s gaze, waited until Steve leaned forward just a bit and said, with every bit of seriousness, “We haven’t had the cinnamon buns, yet.”

[ao3-rex1223]

𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐈𝐕

Pairing: DBF!Leon x Fem!Reader

Tags: vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, cunnilingus,

Summary: Leon is called away to a mission in Spain before Christmas and you wait anxiously to see if he'll make it home in time.

“I’m going to try my hardest to finish in the next couple days,” Leon reassures you over the phone. He’s been away for two weeks on a mission in Spain since a rogue military faction started snooping around for remnants of Las Plagas. You pace Leon’s living room; ever since you two got together, you spend a lot of time waiting at his place. You tell your parents your ‘house sitting’ since they still don’t know you’re secretly dating him, though sometimes you wonder if your father at least suspects and isn’t saying anything. He never questions what you’re doing anymore. As soon as you say you’re going to Leon’s, he simply smiles and nods, never pressing you for further details. 

You flop onto his bed, twirling your hair in your fingers. “Think you’ll be home by Christmas?” you ask, hope rampant in your tone, the holiday only one week away. Your eyes glance around the bedroom you share with him more often than not, lingering on photos of you two placed in simple frames all over. You smile to yourself, feeling the warmth from the happy memories. 

“I wanna be there. I’ll do everything I can, baby.” 

“I’ll make sure your house is nice and Christmas-y for when you get home,” you promise, already envisioning so many decorations, it’ll be like Christmas threw up all over his house!  

I’m sure you will, sweetheart,” Leon replies with a chuckle. 

You hear gunshots ringing in the background, causing your heart to race wildly. “Leon!” you choke out, plagued with worry.

“I better go, baby girl,” Leon says suddenly. You can hear rustling, like he’s moving quickly. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, Leon. Please be careful!” you cry, tears pooling in your eyes. The line goes dead and, as always, you never know if it’s because he hung up or something awful happened. You won’t know until he calls again. It could be hours… It could be days. You take a deep breath and sigh, hands trembling as they hold your phone, eyes staring at the screen with Leon’s image and contact information still displayed. “Just come home,” you whisper to that digital picture. 

In an effort to distract yourself, you make a trip to the local hobby store to find some decorations for Leon’s house. Your mood lifts slightly as you wander the store, picking out every tantalizing Christmas decoration you see, filling the large shopping cart full before you’re even half way through the store. You glance down at your haul so far; reindeer, Santas, porcelain houses, lights, fake snow, candles, garland, nutcrackers, bows, stockings, ornaments, even a few gnomes dressed in holiday garb. You return your gaze to the aisles ahead…and then…in the distance, you spot an eight foot tall synthetic tree, decked out in colorful LED lights and your eyes shine like a small child padding down the stairs on Christmas morning to see all the presents that good old Saint Nick left for them. Beaming, you rush to the nearest employee and ask - no, beg - them to help you get one of those magnificent trees. The twenty something year old worker clearly suppresses an eye roll - not that you’ll let it get to you - and tells you he’ll ‘check the back’. After a few minutes, he returns and tells you there are no more of the trees you wanted in stock. “The closest we have in stock is a nine-footer,” he explains, his tone detached and apathetic, as though he'd explained the lack of stock a dozen times already today and couldn't muster any more effort.

Unwilling to let this Grinch steal your cheerful attitude, you gleefully exclaim, “Oh! I’ll take the nine-foot one, then!” You practically jump up and down. 

“Great,” the worker replies, coldly and turns on his heel, heading back to the stockroom. You bob your head and sing softly along with the Christmas music playing overhead. Finally, the worker returns with a flatbed carrying your beautiful tree. 

After struggling to get it into your car, eventually you strap it to the top and carefully drive back to Leon’s place with your massive purchase of holiday decorations. You link your phone to the stereo in his living room and start playing more Christmas music, along with which you are all too happy to sing. You immediately start putting up the nine foot tree. With tender, loving care, you add lights, ornaments, and tinsel. You string more lights along the mantle of his fireplace and garland on the banisters. The small statuettes you bought find places on his coffee table and end tables. 

Throughout the afternoon, you’re constantly checking your phone to see if Leon has called or at least texted. Nothing. You know he must be pinned down somewhere. He will always let you know he’s okay when he can. You clasp your hands together in a silent prayer for his safety. 

Meanwhile…

Leon forces himself to breathe quietly as militia men scour the decaying laboratory - the one that used to belong to Luis. He stays hidden behind a cabinet, clutching his handcannon in position to fire if needed, but he’s hoping to avoid a direct confrontation, not that it wouldn’t be the first time he’s faced down a hoard of enemies…and it wouldn’t be the first time in this location, either. Flashbacks from that day he came here to rescue Ashley Graham back in 2004 fill his mind. That was long before he met you, before you changed his whole goddamn life. Christ, he misses you. He misses the warmth of your body pressed against his; he misses your smile; he misses your laugh, your kisses, your warm, wet mouth around his-

“Hey! Check over there!” one of the men commands, pulling Leon from his reverie. Fuck, he thinks to himself as he hears heavy boots approaching his hiding spot. He cocks the powerful magnum, ready for a fight. Some big burly motherfucker pokes his ugly head around the corner of Leon’s hiding spot. He growls, bearing his sickly teeth which are quickly blown to pieces by the bullet fired from Leon’s weapon. Shit, can’t catch a break. Guess we’re doin’ this, Leon realizes. He pushes the large man’s limp body away and gets into position, ready to take out anyone else who dares come his way. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will keep him from returning to his girl. 

Back at Leon’s place, you decide to bake some cookies, hoping to have a nice treat for him when he gets back, as if you didn’t practically buy out the store’s entire stock of Christmas decorations. You inhale the warm, homey smell of the delicious dessert, soothing your weary heart, which still worries for Leon’s safety. You take a deep, centering breath, reminding yourself to trust in Leon’s abilities. 

Two days before Christmas, you finally hear from him. “Hey, baby girl. I'm coming home!”

You shriek with joy, jumping up and down in his living room. You spend the day meticulously cleaning the place, making sure it's perfect. 

And on Christmas Eve, near midnight, The door opens, his face marred by fatigue and restless nights, but still handsome as ever. The soft glow of the fireplace illuminates his features in a warm hue. “Baby…” he whispers, his voice barely loud enough to hear. Tears pool in your eyes, your nose tingling as emotion overwhelms you. You rush toward him and throw yourself into his embrace. 

Just like that, with the love of his life in his arms again, Leon feels whole once more. He crushes you against him, soaking in your warmth, soothing his aching soul. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your unique scent. It reminds him why he fights, why he continues to battle the evils of the world, because, as bad as things are, if he can make it a little better for you, it’s worth the pain and effort. For a while, you simply hold each other, the crackling of the fireplace and the quiet whispers of the cold winds outside the only soundtrack for your heartfelt reunion. When you finally part, he gently cups your face and presses his mouth to yours in a tender and passionate kiss. The softness of your lips is a balm for his wary heart. Your tongues slide together in perfect synchrony, a dance of love and devotion. 

You finally break for air, gazing with longing into each other's eyes. “I missed you so much, sweetheart,” Leon coos, his voice cracking slightly from the weight of all his emotions. 

“I missed you too, Leon,” you reply, pressing a delicate kiss to his nose. 

He smiles, his tense muscles finally relaxing after the long and grueling mission. “Hey,” he begins, his voice smooth like butter again, “got something for you…” He bends down to pick up a box with a bunch of holes in it. You look with curiosity at it, certain you hear it…whimpering? A giant red bow adorns the top. He holds the bottom while you lift the lid. Inside is a small, fluffy white puppy, looking up at you with innocent, golden eyes. It yawns, inadvertently showing off its sharp little teeth. Adorably ferocious, you think to yourself. 

“Leon…it’s…” You try to speak, but feel too choked up. Your hands carefully reach in to pick up the helpless ball of fur. Holding it in your arms, it sniffs you cautiously before licking your face, drawing out a genuine, joyful grin from your lips. 

“You remember me telling you about that dog that helped me out all those years ago?” Leon asks. After you nod in affirmation, gently scratching your new friend’s furry cheeks, he continues, “I found him again. Had a litter of pups around. This one was the runt; he wouldn’t do well on his own in the wild, so I brought him home. Thought he could keep you company while I’m away. Merry Christmas, baby.”

Tears fall down your face at the thoughtful gift. “Oh Leon! I love him!” you exclaim, kissing him deeply once again, your soft pup nestled between the two of you. 

After settling the pup - who you decide to name Buddy - into his new home, you and Leon share a bottle of champagne to celebrate his safe return. You clink your crystal glasses and snuggle together on the couch while Buddy snores softly, fast asleep on the recliner. 

Hearts yearning to share the most intimate of connections, Leon lifts you into his arms, bridal style, and carries you to the bedroom, the champagne glasses long since drained of their titular contents. He lays you on the bed with infinite gentleness and crawls over the top of you. He kisses your lips then peppers kisses all along your cheeks and jaw. He pecks a few more just below your ear before whispering, “I love you so much baby. More than anything. I fucking need you.”

You moan softly, cunt getting slippery with your essence, arousal growing, unobstructed. “Leon…I need you, too. I love you!” Tears pool in your eyes again as your feelings for him overwhelm you, yet again. 

He hums his approval at your response, hand gently lifting your shirt, grazing your perfect breasts as he removes it entirely. He growls hungrily as his eyes take in the plush mounds. “Missed these two, as well,” he adds with a smirk and kisses both breasts before taking one hardened bud into his mouth. 

Your teeth take your lower lip between them, biting gently as pleasure begins to fill you, originating from the gentle nibbles on your tits. You can feel his cock hardening, throbbing against your thigh through his pants. He sucks on the fat of your breasts, definitely intending to leave hickies there. Your hands reach down to tug at his shirt. His mouth releases you for mere seconds, long enough to whip his shirt off and throw it across the room. He continues to kiss his way down your taught stomach. His hands grab the waistband of your sweatpants and panties, pulling them down and off, effortlessly. “My Christmas feast…” Leon growls and pushes your legs apart. His thumbs part your wet folds and he looks hungrily at your glistening, pink sex. He licks his lips before diving in, hot, open mouthed kisses claiming your neglected pussy. Your hips roll in time with his expert licks, angling your clit toward his tongue. He closes his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking on it like it’s a rare delicacy. Your abs tighten as your body begins to respond on its own, your back arching hard and your head digging into the bed. Your hands death grip the sheets, nails nearly cutting through the fabric, a mind numbing climax imminent. 

“Leon! I’m cumming! Fuck! I’m cumming!” you cry out, the pleasure worth the wait you had to endure while he was gone. Orgasm ripping through you, he pins you in place with his strong arms while he continues to lick you though your waves of euphoria. As you pant, gasping for air, he kicks off his pants and gives his aching dick a few strokes, precum leaking from the tip. He pushes your legs apart again, which practically fall open whenever he looks at them. 

“Can’t wait to be inside you again, sweetheart. Not at home until I feel your perfect cunt wrapped around my shaft,” He guides his throbbing cock toward your willing entrance, notching the tip past your eager barrier. He drops onto his hands above you, arms caging you in as he slides further inside, the familiar sensation of his thick length filling your tight channel and kissing the entrance to your womb like a warm embrace, a feeling of completeness. “Fuck…you’re so goddamn tight, baby girl. Never gonna get tired of this,” Leon purrs. His mouth connects with yours once more, pouring all of his pent up love and passion into the heated kiss. With tender thrusts, he begins to move inside you. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock rubs your g-spot, teasingly slow. You moan and whimper, begging for more with incoherent babbles. “Yeah, baby girl. You want more? Want me to put a baby in you, honey?” His mouth returns to your neck, licking and sucking, his own arousal and need growing beyond his control. 

His words make you arch into him even more, the thought of him impregnating you is once again a potent aphrodisiac. “Yes! Please! God, I want it so bad!”

He groans at your impassioned affirmation. He begins snapping his hips forward hard, your tantalizing breasts jiggling with each movement. He withdraws nearly completely out before slamming back inside you again, driven by primal instinct, an innate desire - no, a need - to breed you, to watch your belly swell with his child, to claim you in every way imaginable. He laces your fingers together, pressing them gently into the mattress. His rhythm is frenzied and irregular as he begins chasing his own high. As you cum a second time, you tense, hard, then cry out as your walls collapse on his dick, sucking him in deeper. With a guttural, rough moan, Leon thrusts into you one final time, filling you with his hot, sticky seed. For a long time, he simply remains buried inside you, unwilling to sever the connection just yet. He pulls you with him as he rolls off of you, deciding to keep himself warm inside your delicious heat for the night. “Need you to cockwarm me, baby girl. Been too damn long.”

Your pussy quivers weakly as the last remnants of your orgasm trickle out of you. “Always, Leon. Merry Christmas, baby,” you coo softly, running your fingers tenderly through his hair. 

He closes his eyes as you caress his scalp and rub it gently. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he replies, wrapping his arms tightly around you, pulling you close as he begins drifting off to sleep, comfortable and happy for the first time since he left for the mission to Spain. 

[user1smvtysturniolo]

With you m'love | Matt Sturniolo

Pairing: clingy!Matt x reader

Summary: you finally are able to see your boyfriend Matt after two weeks without seeing him, and the only thing you want is be with him.

Disclaimer: slightly smut, but majority fluff

It was a winter evening, the kind that made you want to curl up by a fireplace with a warm cup of something delicious. That's exactly what you planned to do when Matt invited you over for a cozy night in, complete with Christmas movies and hot cocoa. As you pulled up to his house, he greeted you at the door with a beaming smile, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Sweetheart, I've missed you!" he exclaimed, peppering your face with affectionate kisses. You giggled, returning his enthusiasm as he led you inside.

The living room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the twinkling lights adorning the Christmas tree in the corner. Matt guided you to the plush couch, where he draped a soft, fuzzy blanket over your laps. "Make yourself comfortable," he instructed, settling in beside you. You sipped your steaming mug of hot cocoa, relishing the rich, chocolatey flavor as it warmed your chilled bones. Across from you, Matt looked equally content, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at you. "Ready for our holiday movie marathon?" he asked, setting his drink aside. You nodded enthusiastically, reaching for the remote control to start the first film. The Grinch's grumpy face appeared on screen, and you both settled in to enjoy the festive tale.

Laughter filled the room as the Whos' cheerful town contrasted hilariously with the Grinch's sour demeanor. Occasionally, you'd glance over at Matt, admiring the way the soft glow of the TV highlighted his features. He caught your gaze and winked, making you blush slightly. By the time The Grinch concluded, you felt pleasantly full from the emotional rollercoaster, but eager for more cinematic cheer. Matt agreed, suggesting they switch to Home Alone. As the opening credits rolled, you snuggled deeper into the blanket, enjoying the warmth and closeness sharing this special moment with your boyfriend brought.

The mischievous antics of Macaulay Culkin quickly had you both in stitches, giggling uncontrollably at Kevin's clever booby traps. Matt's laughter was infectious, and soon you joined in as well. As the final showdown approached, you sensed your eyelids growing heavy, the comforting weight of Matt's arm around your shoulders lulling you into a state of relaxation.

The credits began to roll, signaling the end of Home Alone. You blinked slowly, trying to shake off the drowsiness creeping over you. Matt seemed to notice, his hand gently stroking your hair as he leaned in close. "You okay, babe? You look a bit sleepy," he whispered, concern etched on his face. You managed a weak smile, nodding in agreement. "I am a little bit, but now I just want to be with you... just really comfy and cozy." You admitted, burrowing into his side.

Matt chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Well, we can definitely keep you cozy," he promised, scooping you up effortlessly in his strong arms. He carried you upstairs, navigating the dark hallway with ease until he reached his bedroom. Gently, he laid you down on his bed, the soft mattress enveloping your weary form. He followed suit, sliding in beside you and wrapping the blanket snugly around both of you. Your head found a natural resting place on his shoulder, and you felt his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek.

As you unconsciously drifted off, Matt's arm encircling your waist, holding you close. He sounds utterly content, the casual intimacy between you deepening as you relax together, two hearts synchronized in rhythm. "Do you want me to play with your hair?" he offers softly, wanting to pamper you, to make this moment last. I nodded as I relaxed in his shoulder.

I put my hand on top of his. "I missed you so much. Your touch, your voice... your kisses" I murmured against his shoulder. When he heard that he cupped my face and made me face him. "Oh yeah?" He asked with a slight grin in his face as he laid me down on the couch. "You're so cute" he licked his lips as he grabbed my jaw and gave me small kissed all over my face. When he pulled back and looked at me, his lips looked slightly rosy making my heart flutter.

After we stood there, inches apart looking back and forth at eachother's eyes and lips, he finally broke the gap and kissed me. I moved my hands to the back of his hair. The kiss was every second becoming more passionate, I could feel butterflies in my stomach everytime his tongue would touch mine, or when his lips smacked mine harder. He started kissing my neck, removing my hoodie. Leaving me with my bra. He went down and started kissing me all over my chest, I looked down at him, seeing how he would hold back a groan when he touched me or how he would kiss me, simply that making me feel so good, so loved.

When he got down he removed my pants. Leaving me with my underwear. He slightly pulled away and looked at my body. "You're beautiful, damn." He slightly moaned. He started caressing my thighs while kissing my inner thighs. "May I?" He softly asked "I just wanna be with you m'love" he murmured against my thighs sending shivers down my spine...

Sorry if it's a little long, it's a mix of fluff and slight smut. Tell me if you like this type of fanfic and I'll do something similar next time!

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

Taglist: @ccxsturns @xoxo4chrisss @madisonb44r @courta13 @kenzieeluby @mattsfavginger @luvs4chrs @jessie-essie

[rubyybutterfly]

Get your hands dirty if necessary

S/a: Mention obscenity, trauma, love, husband, No use of y/n.

Sinopse: Your husband returns from a 2 month mission, there's nothing better than a good shower and a hug.

When John walked through the door of his house he was greeted by the shock of a smaller body than his own, holding the woman by the thighs. He was graced by her scent, lavender and strawberry. Due to the softness of his wife's body, that skin, perfect.

When you looked at him and placed your hand on his cheek, his beard was a little longer, a reminder of how long the mission took.

He looked so tired, hurt. You stand up while holding his large, calloused hands. Your husband, your John. To you he wasn't Captain Price, he was just John.

I missed you a lot too, love", He said looking at you with that smile of his that you liked so much, that smile he had where his eyes crinkled.

He smelled of ash, tobacco and sweat. But that smell didn't make you sick, you liked it, it was the smell that showed he fought and came back to you. As I promised on the last night before the mission.

The two of you tangled up in that silk sheet, a tangle of feet together, you laid on his chest as you played with his dog tag, As he caresses her waist.

John was tired, his now not so young muscles ached, his left knee was hurting after being hit, not to mention this mission was more complicated than it should have been.

Looking at you he pulls you by the back of your head into a passionate, almost rough kiss, holding your waist he guides you to the wall.

" No, no, you need a shower, you need to eat and rest," you he said. as he pulled away from the kiss, John had a look of disgust on his face. He wanted to feel you inside, your walls tight and warm.

But not. You were right, even though you didn't want to admit it John liked your plan. A shower, a good meal and a bed wasn't bad after months of sleeping on the hard floor and eating food out of bags.

Going to the bathroom you help your husband take off those clothes, the equipment. You looked at John as he pulled a pistol from his back- just for safety- he said as he placed it in the sink drawer.

John, now naked, walked over to you and gently took off your dress. Since you weren't wearing a bra you were left in just your panties. Which John soon took off.

When you look at John's chest you frown, a recent scar running from his heart to the other side, You touch the wound carefully John just lifts his hand and holds yours gently.

Just superficial, nothing serious. It takes a lot more to kill me, love," he said in that hoarse voice.

The water was warm, John hugged her body while his head rested on hers. He felt the water, felt their bodies pressed together, their smell, everything.

You almost died, John," you said softly as you slipped your arms under his armpits and hugged his broad, strong shoulders.

"There are difficult jobs, but someone has to do them. Someone has to get their hands dirty," he said at the time. His dark voice, He held you by the waist. Water fell on your heads.

John knew he was not a good man, a man worthy of a family. The blood he had already shed It's more than he remembers, the memories will accompany him along with the pain he already suffers.

But if there was something he could be thankful for.

It was you.

His wife, his woman. That hIt was you.e gave his heart to and that he trusted her as if she were the boys on the team. The woman who made him feel the feeling of love,true. That he promised he would protect and love the day they both stood at that altar. And if he had to get his hands dirty to protect you, he would dirty them until the only color they would have was.

Red.

[rainforestakiie]

hello!

this is a short AU! expect part 02 in a few hours! i have mostly gotten it fully written, i am just playing around with it a little. the idea behind this has been on my mind for a while now!

Frozen Out

Part 01 - Part 02

Everyone has a breaking point…

It just took Adam centuries to reach his.

In the dawn of creation, Eden pulsed with an ethereal beauty, a masterpiece painted by divine hands. Each blade of grass shimmered like emeralds kissed by sunlight, and the golden apples hanging from the Tree of Knowledge swayed lazily, their surfaces glinting with the secrets of the universe. The air itself carried the scent of blooming flowers, crisp water, and a whisper of something ancient, something eternal. It was paradise, perfect in every way. And yet, Adam was lonely.

Adam lay beneath the sprawling shade of the tree, his gaze fixed on the heavens. He traced the shifting clouds with his eyes, hoping one of them might shape itself into the figure he longed to see. His heart fluttered at the thought. Lucifer. His guardian Archangel, the one who had brought him into this garden and promised to watch over him. His protector, his light, his... everything.

Lucifer often visited Eden, descending from the heavens with the brilliance of a falling star. His presence filled the garden with an otherworldly glow, as though Eden itself bent to welcome him. To Adam, Lucifer was more than just a guardian; he was the embodiment of perfection—graceful, radiant, and untouchable. Adam adored him, though he could never find the courage to say so.

"Adam," Lucifer’s voice was soft yet commanding, like the first notes of a hymn. "Have you been well?"

Adam always nodded eagerly, stumbling over his words in his haste to please. He would recount his days, describing how he had explored the rivers, befriended the animals, or marveled at the endless beauty of Eden. And Lucifer would smile, a faint, fleeting curve of his lips that made Adam's chest tighten with something he could not name.

But those moments were rare. More often than not, Lucifer would leave, his duties in the heavens calling him away. "I must go," he would say, his hand brushing lightly against Adam's hair, a touch so brief it left Adam aching for more. "But I’ll return soon."

Adam clung to those words, even as he watched Lucifer's wings unfurl in a cascade of light, carrying him beyond the clouds. Each time, the garden felt a little dimmer, a little emptier. Adam would return to the apple tree, his only companion in Lucifer’s absence.

Now, as he lay beneath its branches, Adam reached out a hand toward the golden fruit, though he did not pluck it. His fingertips grazed the air just beneath the apple's smooth surface, as though by reaching for it, he could somehow grasp the knowledge Lucifer carried—the wisdom, the grace, the infinite love Adam longed to share.

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the sun seep into his skin. In his mind, he imagined a world where Lucifer stayed. Where they could walk together through the garden, laughing, talking, simply being. A world where Lucifer saw him not as a charge to protect, not as a creature to guide, but as an equal, as someone worthy of his love.

But reality was far less kind. Lucifer’s affection, while sweet and gentle, was distant. He patted Adam's head like one might a faithful dog, praised his obedience, and marveled at his innocence. To Adam, it felt like being both seen and unseen, loved yet overlooked.

"Do you think about me when you’re gone?" Adam whispered to the empty garden. His voice was swallowed by the rustle of leaves, a question cast into the void.

He imagined Lucifer in the heavens, surrounded by celestial choirs and the splendor of God’s light. Did he ever think of Eden? Of the one who waited for him beneath the golden tree? Or was Adam just another part of the garden—beautiful, yes, but ultimately forgettable?

Tears pricked the corners of Adam's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Crying would solve nothing. Instead, he curled into himself, resting his cheek against the soft grass. "I’ll wait," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I’ll always wait."

Time passed. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Still, Adam waited. His heart ached with the weight of unspoken words, of feelings too vast to contain. He longed to tell Lucifer, to say, “I love you.” But how could he? Love was a gift, and what did he have to offer an Archangel who already had everything?

The sound of wings broke the silence. Adam’s heart leapt, his breath hitching as he sat up. There, descending from the heavens, was Lucifer. His light bathed the garden in gold, and Adam’s chest filled with a bittersweet joy.

Lucifer landed gracefully, his expression calm and unreadable. "Adam," he said, his voice like the soft hum of a lullaby.

Adam’s smile was bright, though his eyes betrayed his longing. "You came back."

"Of course," Lucifer replied, his hand resting briefly on Adam’s shoulder. "I always do."

But even as they spoke, Adam could feel the distance between them—a chasm carved by divinity and duty, by the unbridgeable divide between mortal and celestial. He wanted to hold on to Lucifer, to beg him to stay. But he knew that love, if it was real, could not be chained.

So, Adam smiled, even as his heart broke. Because even if Lucifer could never love him in the way he wished, he would take what he could get. A touch, a word, a fleeting moment.

And as Lucifer left once more, Adam returned to his place beneath the tree, his silent companion. He gazed at the stars, wondering if somewhere beyond them, Lucifer was looking back.

But he knew the truth. Lucifer belonged to the heavens, and Adam… Adam belonged to Eden. And though his heart yearned, his love would remain unspoken—a quiet, eternal flame burning in the depths of his soul.

If only it was that easy…

Pain. Heart break. Horror. Only followed…

The first thing Adam felt was light. Not the harsh glare of the sun that he’d toiled under on Earth, nor the pale glow of the moon that had witnessed his quiet prayers at night. This was different. It was warm and all-encompassing, wrapping around him like a soft embrace. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Adam was no longer cold.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the brilliance of Heaven. The sky was not a single hue but a shifting cascade of colours—gold melting into silver, blue blooming into shades of pearl. The ground beneath him was soft, like the petals of a flower, and the air smelled of something faintly sweet, something he could only describe as home.

But his body—oh, his body ached. Soreness clung to his limbs like a shroud, and he winced as he shifted. His hands, calloused and cracked from years of toil, trembled in front of him. Scars crisscrossed his skin, pale reminders of the battles he had fought against the earth itself—ploughing rocky fields, hauling water across barren lands, building shelters to keep his family safe.

His family.

The thought of them made his chest tighten. Eve. His children. Every wound, every bruise, every moment of exhaustion had been for them. He had pushed himself to his limits and beyond to keep them fed, to shield them from the unforgiving world they had been cast into. And all of it—all of it—because of a single bite of forbidden fruit.

The weight of that mistake had pressed down on him every day since they left Eden. Adam had carried it without complaint, without faltering, because someone had to. Someone had to bear the burden. And now... now he was here.

He barely had time to process where “here” was before he saw her.

A figure stood before him, radiant and awe-inspiring. Her six wings shimmered like molten gold, each feather catching the light and scattering it in a thousand directions. Her face was soft yet commanding, her presence both overwhelming and soothing. She was beautiful, yes, but more than that—she was holy, a being of divine grace.

“Adam,” she said, her voice melodic and laced with something tender, something almost like sorrow.

The sound of his name on her lips was his undoing.

Adam crumpled to his knees, a broken sob tearing from his throat. His shoulders shook as tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, as if the floodgates of his soul had been thrown open. He wept for everything he had lost, for everything he had endured. For Eden, for his family, for the weight of years spent trying to atone for something he could never undo.

Sera—he didn’t know how he knew her name, but he did—was startled for a moment, her serene expression flickering with surprise. But then she moved toward him, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She knelt beside him, her wings folding around them both like a cocoon, shielding him from everything but her presence.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, her voice gentle as she pulled him into her arms. “It’s alright, Adam. You’re safe now.”

Adam clung to her like a child, his tears soaking into the fabric of her robes. “I tried,” he choked out, his voice raw. “I tried so hard. I did everything I could. But it was never enough. I—I lost Eden. I lost everything.”

Sera’s arms tightened around him, and she rested her cheek against his hair.

“Hush, my child,” she whispered. “You did more than enough. You gave all of yourself, and Heaven has seen your sacrifice. You are not lost. You are home.”

At her words, something stirred within him—a warmth, a light, something long buried beneath years of pain and struggle. It began as a flicker, a faint glow in his chest, but it quickly grew, spreading through his body like wildfire. Adam gasped as he felt it surge outward, his back arching as the sensation intensified.

And then it happened.

With a sound like thunder, golden wings erupted from his back. They unfurled in a blaze of light, each feather shimmering with an otherworldly brilliance. The pain of their emergence was sharp but fleeting, replaced almost instantly by a sense of overwhelming freedom. Adam let out a cry—not of anguish, but of release—as the wings stretched wide behind him, catching the light of Heaven and casting it in every direction.

Sera pulled back, her hands covering her mouth as she gazed at him in awe.

“Adam…” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Your wings. They’re… they’re glorious.”

Adam looked over his shoulder, his breath hitching as he took in the sight of them. They were unlike anything he had ever imagined, a reflection of the strength and resilience he had forged on Earth. For a moment, he was speechless, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of what he had become.

Sera reached out, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “You have done all that was asked of you,” she said softly.

“You bore the weight of your family’s survival, of your own exile, with grace and humility. And now, Adam, it is time for you to rest. You have earned your place in Heaven.”

Adam’s eyes filled with tears once more, but this time they were tears of relief. The crushing weight he had carried for so long was gone, lifted by her words and the gentle light of his new wings. He looked at Sera, his voice trembling as he asked, “Will it truly be better now?”

She smiled, a motherly warmth radiating from her. “Yes, my dear one. You are home, and you are loved. The darkness is behind you now.”

For the first time since Eden, Adam believed her. He closed his eyes, letting the light of Heaven wash over him, and for the first time in a long, long time, he allowed himself to hope.

Adam worked. He worked until his hands trembled and his wings ached. Heaven’s orders were absolute, its demands endless, and Adam gave everything he had. He gave and gave, offering up every ounce of his strength and will because that was what Sera wanted. That was what Heaven needed. And if he could not make others love him, if he could not bring back what was lost, then at least he could be useful.

“Adam,” Sera would say, her voice laced with that motherly warmth he craved so deeply. “You’re doing so well. Keep going. You’re Heaven’s pride.”

Those words should have comforted him, but instead, they weighed on him like chains. He nodded each time, his golden eyes bright with the fervour of someone desperate for approval.

"Yes, Sera," he’d say, forcing a smile. "I’ll do better. I’ll be everything Heaven needs me to be."

But inside, Adam was crumbling.

More souls arrived every day, their faces filled with awe and wonder, and Adam was there to guide them. He was there to smile, to reassure, to lift them up. His wings, once radiant and proud, sagged under the burden of expectation. The weight of his endless labour, of his duty to Heaven, was crushing him. But Adam refused to falter.

He had no one else.

Lucifer had shattered his heart and left him behind, stealing Eden—the only place where Adam had ever felt whole. Eve had betrayed his trust, her bite of the forbidden fruit unravelling the world he had tried so hard to keep perfect. And Lilith, the woman who had once stood beside him as an equal, had lied to his face, leaving him with nothing but bitterness.

No one had stayed. No one except Sera.

She was his guiding light, his only anchor in the vast expanse of Heaven. He clung to her approval like a lifeline, pouring his entire existence into pleasing her. Even as his wings burned with exhaustion, even as his body screamed for rest, Adam persevered. He would prove himself. He would be the golden boy Sera believed him to be.

But it was breaking him.

One day, after what felt like an eternity of serving, Adam found himself alone. He sat on the edge of a cloudy hedge, his golden wings sagging behind him. The feathers, once lustrous, were dull and trembling from the strain of holding themselves up for too long. They finally collapsed, spilling over the clouds like a crumpled halo. His chest rose and fell with laboured breaths, and his hands trembled as he rested them on his knees.

His mind, unrelenting and cruel, drifted back to Eden. His Eden. His home.

Adam swallowed hard, the memory of Eden gnawing at him like an old wound. The garden had been a paradise—lush, green, and perfect. A place where every moment felt eternal, where the air itself had been sweet with the promise of peace. But Lucifer had taken it from him.

Why? Adam had never understood.

"Why did you do it?" he whispered to no one, his voice breaking.

His golden eyes, now dulled with exhaustion, stared into the endless expanse of Heaven. His eyelids grew heavy, the dark circles beneath them deepening like shadows carved into his skin.

He missed Eden so much it hurt. The earth had been nothing like it. Earth was cruel, unforgiving, tearing at him with jagged claws. It had stripped him of everything—his comfort, his innocence, his sense of belonging. Even now, surrounded by the splendour of Heaven, Adam felt the ache of loss. Eden was the only place he had ever felt truly alive.

Tears pricked at his eyes, but he was too tired to cry. Instead, he rested his head in his hands, letting his thoughts swirl in an endless storm of longing and regret.

And then, it happened.

A faint warmth bloomed between his fingers, pulling Adam from his haze of despair. He lifted his head, blinking in surprise, as he felt something soft and delicate pressing against his palms. Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his hands.

There, growing from his touch, was a flower.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at it, his heart pounding in disbelief. It was a flower he hadn’t seen since Eden—a small, radiant bloom with petals that shimmered faintly in the light. His fingers trembled as he jerked back, startled, but the flower remained, swaying gently as though cradled by an invisible breeze.

For a long moment, Adam just stared. Memories of Eden surged through him, raw and bittersweet, as he reached out again. His fingers brushed the petals, and a gasp escaped his lips. The flower grew brighter, its stems stronger, its colours deeper. Two more blooms sprouted beside it, unfurling in delicate perfection.

Adam’s golden eyes widened. His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he looked down at his hands. The realization came slowly, almost too heavy to bear. This was him.

With shaking hands, Adam pressed his palms against the clouds beneath him. He closed his eyes, his thoughts a swirling tide of Eden—its beauty, its peace, its promise of love. The ache in his chest grew sharper, but he pushed through it, pouring everything he had into the memories.

When he opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.

Nature had begun to grow around him. Flowers, vines, and lush green grass spilled from his hands, spreading across the clouds in a radiant bloom. The air filled with the scent of Eden, that sweet, familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for centuries.

Adam’s breath hitched as he stared at the life flourishing beneath his touch. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, something inside him stirred—a flicker of hope, of purpose. This was new. This was powerful.

But even as he marvelled at the beauty he had created, a shadow lingered in his heart. He thought of Sera, of Heaven’s expectations, of the endless giving that had nearly destroyed him. Would this new power be a gift? Or would it be yet another burden to bear?

Adam clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. It didn’t matter. He would give everything—his strength, his heart, his very soul—if it meant he could finally belong. Even if it destroyed him.

Because that was all he had ever known how to do.

Adam had done everything. He had bent himself to the will of Heaven, poured every drop of his strength into its gardens, and sacrificed his own dreams for the sake of their commands. When they asked for beauty, he gave them flowers. When they demanded glory, he painted the skies with life. Adam had filled Heaven with blossoms, vines, and trees, his power bringing Eden to every corner of paradise.

Yet now, they turned their backs on him.

Why?

Why were they betraying him? Why were they leaving him to rot in his failure, to suffer in his disgrace? His mind reeled with questions, but no answers came. The betrayal burned through him like wildfire, threatening to consume the fragile remnants of his faith.

The memory of Lucifer’s cruel laughter rang in his ears.

It hadn’t started this way. Once, there had been Eden. Once, there had been the quiet, sun-dappled days beneath the apple tree, where Lucifer’s presence was warm and protective. Or so Adam thought. But the Eden he had clung to, the Eden he still mourned, had been torn away. Lucifer had ripped it from him, and Adam couldn’t even understand why.

But understanding hardly mattered now.

What mattered was the humiliation.

Lucifer had dragged him through the mud—literally. The archangel’s blows were unrelenting, knocking Adam to his knees before all of Heaven. Every strike, every mocking word, every sneer had landed like a blade, cutting deeper into his soul than any physical wound. And then, when Adam was at his weakest, humiliated and broken, the final insult came—a one-eyed sinner who caught him off guard, a dagger slicing through his side.

The pain was excruciating.

Adam remembered falling, his wings folding like broken glass behind him as light bled from his eyes. The agony of his death was unbearable, but the agony of being abandoned was worse.

No one came for him.

No divine hand reached down to save him from the darkness. The heavens left him to rot in Hell.

And when Adam awoke, he was something else. Something unholy. His golden wings remained, though they were battered and dull, and his eyes still shimmered faintly with the light of Heaven. But his halo was gone, replaced by horns that twisted above his head. Adam stared at his reflection in the jagged surface of a Hellish pool, his chest tightening with despair.

He was a sinner now.

He was nothing.

The voice that broke the silence was sharp, mocking, and familiar.

“Well, well, well,” Lucifer purred, his crimson gaze glinting with amusement. “Look who’s come crawling back from the grave. Fallen from grace, haven’t we?” He stepped closer, his smirk cutting like a blade. “How the mighty have fallen. Tell me, Adam—how does it feel to be one of us?”

Adam said nothing, his jaw tightening as he lowered his gaze.

“Oh, don’t look so pathetic,” Lucifer continued, his laughter echoing like thunder. “You didn’t honestly think Heaven would take you back, did you? You’re a sinner now, Adam. You don’t belong to them anymore. You’re mine.”

The words hit like a hammer, but Adam refused to react. He kept his head down, swallowing the bitterness that clawed at his throat.

Lucifer tilted his head, his expression shifting from amusement to feigned pity. “Oh, come now. Don’t tell me you’re still holding out hope. That’s adorable.”

His grin widened, sharp and cruel. “But let me save you some time, pet. Sera doesn’t want you. She never did. You were just a tool, a pretty little puppet to do her bidding. And now?” He laughed, the sound dripping with venom. “Now you’re nothing but trash.”

Adam’s chest tightened, his mind flickering back to Eden despite himself. He remembered the way Lucifer used to smile at him, the warmth in his voice, the rare moments of kindness that had felt like sunlight. Or had they? Had Lucifer ever truly been kind? Or had Adam been a fool all along, misreading the disdain in those crimson eyes as something more?

Lucifer leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You were always just a pet, Adam. A pretty, obedient little thing.”

The realization struck Adam like a physical blow. He had looked up to Lucifer, adored him, loved him with a desperate, one-sided passion. But now, the truth was undeniable. He had been nothing to Lucifer. Nothing but a dog on a leash.

Lucifer’s laughter broke through his thoughts, loud and biting. “Don’t worry,” he sneered, stepping back and gesturing toward the red building at the centre of Pentagram City. “I’ll take you to the Emberley—our charming little meeting point between Heaven and Hell. After that, though, you’re on your own. Sera won’t let a sinner like you back in. You’re done.”

Adam said nothing. He followed Lucifer in silence, his wings dragging behind him, the weight of humiliation and heartbreak pressing down on his shoulders. The streets of Pentagram City were filled with jeering sinners, their sneers and laughter cutting into him like shards of glass. But Adam barely noticed. He was too numb to care.

Lucifer glanced back at him, a cruel smile curling his lips. “You’ve really let yourself go, haven’t you? No wonder you couldn’t keep a wife. Not that I blame her.”

The words were meant to hurt, but Adam didn’t flinch. He kept his gaze fixed on the Emberley’s doors, the only thing that stood between him and whatever awaited inside.

Lucifer followed his gaze, his smirk widening. “Good luck in there,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You’ll need it. And just so you know—when you come out, you better get running. No one here is going to be kind enough to give you a head start.” He laughed harshly, the sound grating against Adam’s ears.

Adam’s hand trembled as he reached for the door.

Before he could open it, Lucifer’s clawed hand clamped down on his forearm, the searing heat of his touch making Adam wince. Lucifer leaned in close, his sharp-toothed grin gleaming in the dim light.

“Oh, and one more thing,” he purred, his voice low and taunting. “If you want to save your pathetic little life, if you really want my help…”

He paused, savouring the moment. “I’ll give it to you. In exchange for your soul, of course.”

Adam’s breath hitched, but he said nothing. He stared at Lucifer, his face unreadable, as the archangel chuckled darkly.

“Think about it,” Lucifer said, stepping back and gesturing toward the door. “Go on, pet. Your destiny awaits.”

Without another word, Adam turned the handle and stepped inside, his heart heavy with despair. Behind him, Lucifer’s laughter echoed like a cruel song, the sound following him into the darkness.

Adam’s steps faltered as the doors to the Emberley closed behind him, sealing him into the dim, suffocating space that seemed to hover on the edge of worlds. A strange, otherworldly hum filled the air, pressing against his skin like static. The golden light he had once associated with Heaven was faint here, weak and struggling against the blood-red glow that seeped in from Hell.

At the far end of the chamber stood Sera.

Adam’s breath caught at the sight of her. She was as radiant as ever, her six wings shimmering with divine brilliance. But there was no warmth in her presence now, no trace of the maternal kindness that had once cradled him in his darkest moments. Her expression was cold, her eyes piercing and unrelenting as they raked over him.

Adam felt his heart sink further, the weight of her gaze unbearable. He wanted to speak, to explain, but the words died in his throat. He didn’t know what to say.

Sera took a single step forward, the sound of her heel echoing sharply in the stillness. Her wings shifted behind her, their feathers gleaming like blades. When she spoke, her voice was sharp, devoid of the gentle cadence he had clung to in the past.

“Adam.”

The way she said his name made him flinch. It wasn’t the way she used to say it—soft and full of quiet pride. Now it was cold, distant, almost like an accusation.

“You’ve disgraced yourself,” she said, her tone cutting. “Look at you.”

Adam hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides. “I… I didn’t choose this,” he said softly, his voice trembling.

“No,” she snapped, her wings flaring slightly. “You chose to fail. You chose to fall.”

Her words struck like a whip, and Adam recoiled. He wanted to protest, to remind her of everything he had done for Heaven, everything he had sacrificed, but her gaze silenced him.

“You’re a sinner now,” Sera continued, her voice unyielding. “A creature of filth and corruption. Do you honestly think you can return to Heaven like this?”

“I… I didn’t mean to…” Adam stammered, his golden eyes filling with tears. “I tried, Sera. I did everything you asked. I gave everything I had—”

“And yet, it wasn’t enough,” she interrupted, her voice as sharp as glass.

“You failed. And now you wear the mark of your failure for all to see.” Her gaze flicked to the horns curling from his head, her lip curling in disgust.

Adam’s wings trembled, the once-glorious golden feathers sagging under the weight of her disdain. He felt the tears spill over, streaking his face as he fell to his knees before her.

“Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please, Sera. I’ll do anything. Just… let me come back. Let me prove myself again. I’ll work harder, I’ll—”

“No.”

The single word cut through him like a blade.

“There is no place for you in Heaven,” Sera said coldly. “You have fallen, Adam. You are no longer one of us.”

Her words crushed him, the weight of them stealing the breath from his lungs. He stared up at her, his vision blurred by tears.

“You said… you said I was your son,” he whispered. “You said you loved me.”

Sera’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, her disdain deepened.

 “I loved the Adam who was pure,” she said. “The Adam who obeyed. The Adam who belonged to Heaven. That Adam is gone.”

Adam’s chest heaved as a sob tore from him, raw and broken. He clutched at the hem of her glowing robe, desperate, pleading. “Please, Sera. I don’t have anyone else. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

She stepped back, pulling her robe from his grasp. “You made your choices, Adam. Now you must live with the consequences.”

Her words were final, her tone merciless.

Adam’s hands fell to his sides, trembling. He lowered his head, his tears dripping onto the cold, unyielding floor. The golden light that had once flickered in his chest felt dim now, as though it would extinguish entirely.

Sera turned away, her wings folding gracefully behind her.

“You will leave this place,” she said, her voice echoing through the chamber. “Do not return. You are no longer welcome.”

As she began to walk away, Adam reached out one last time, his voice barely a whisper. “Sera… please…”

She didn’t look back.

The sound of her footsteps faded, leaving Adam alone in the dim chamber. His sobs echoed around him, raw and desperate, but there was no one to hear them. No one to comfort him.

He was nothing now.

A sinner.

A failure.

As the last traces of Sera’s light vanished, Adam knelt in the darkness, his wings trembling and his heart shattered. The thought of Eden, of what he had lost, flickered weakly in his mind. But even that memory felt tainted now, distant and unreachable.

For the first time, Adam truly understood what it meant to be alone.

The door groaned as Adam pushed it open, stepping out into the suffocating, sulfureous air of Hell’s streets. The eerie red glow of the Emberley behind him cast long shadows on the cracked ground. For a fleeting moment, he dared to hope that maybe—just maybe—he could walk away unscathed. But then he saw them.

The sinners.

They were waiting.

Their twisted forms lurked in the shadows, their eyes gleaming with malice. Adam froze, his wings trembling behind him. He recognized some of them—souls he had been forced to slaughter in the name of Heaven, their faces twisted now with a hatred that seemed to pulse in the air around him.

“There he is,” one of them hissed, stepping forward with a jagged grin.

“The First Man,” another sneered. “Heaven’s golden boy turned to trash.”

Laughter erupted around him, sharp and cruel.

Adam stumbled back, his body already weary and broken, his golden wings sagging. The sinners closed in, their voices growing louder, more taunting.

“Pig.”

“Failure.”

“Couldn’t even keep a women.”

The words sliced through him, each one sharper than the last. Before he could react, one of them shoved him hard, and he fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Let’s see how much gold is left in those wings,” one snarled, grabbing a handful of his feathers and yanking.

Adam cried out as the sharp pain shot through him. They laughed louder, their hands tearing at his wings, ripping feathers out in clumps. The golden light that once shimmered in them dimmed as they shredded his dignity piece by piece.

"Look at him," one jeered. "The mighty Adam, grovelling in the dirt where he belongs."

Adam tried to stand, but they pushed him down again. His knees hit the ground, his body shaking. His mind screamed at him to run, to fight back, but he didn’t have the strength. He was too tired, too broken.

And then he saw him.

Lucifer.

The King of Hell lounged lazily against a jagged rock, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he watched the scene unfold. His smirk was slow and smug, a cruel twist of his lips that sent a chill through Adam’s battered frame.

Adam’s breath hitched. He knew what this was. Lucifer had told him, warned him, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it.

Lucifer was waiting.

Waiting for him to break.

“Help me,” Adam rasped, his voice weak, barely audible over the sinners’ taunts.

Lucifer’s smirk widened. “Help you?” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Oh, Adam. Why would I do that?”

Adam flinched as another sinner kicked him in the ribs, sending him sprawling. He looked up at Lucifer, his golden eyes swimming with desperation.

“Please,” he whispered. “You said… you said you’d help me.”

Lucifer tilted his head, his grin turning sharp. “I said I’d help you in exchange for your soul. Did you think charity was one of my virtues?”

The sinners laughed, their jeers growing louder. Adam’s hands clenched into fists against the dirt, his chest heaving. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to give Lucifer the satisfaction.

But he couldn’t take this anymore.

“Say it,” Lucifer purred, his voice a low, mocking croon. “Beg me. Prove to me how low you’re willing to go, Adam.”

Adam’s lips trembled. His pride, what little was left of it, screamed at him to hold on, to fight. But his body—bruised, battered, humiliated—couldn’t endure it anymore.

He fell forward, his forehead pressing into the dirt as tears streamed down his face. His voice was barely a whisper, choked with despair.

“Please… Lucifer. I… I give you my soul.”

The sinners froze, their laughter dying in the air. A heavy, suffocating silence fell over them.

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with triumph.

“Oh, Adam,” he murmured, his grin splitting wider. “Say it again. Louder this time.”

Adam’s shoulders shook as he forced the words out.

“I give you my soul,” he repeated, his voice breaking.

Lucifer’s laughter echoed through the space, cruel and victorious. He stepped forward, his black boots crunching against the dirt until he stood over Adam’s trembling form.

A golden collar materialized around Adam’s neck, glowing faintly before solidifying with an ominous snap. A heavy chain extended from it, leading up to Lucifer’s outstretched clawed hand.

Lucifer yanked the chain, forcing Adam to lift his head. The fallen man’s golden eyes were dull now, lifeless.

Lucifer’s grin was wicked as he pressed his boot onto the back of Adam’s head, shoving him back into the dirt. “I own you now,” he said, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.

He leaned down, his sharp teeth gleaming as he whispered into Adam’s ear. “You’re mine, body and soul. A dog on my leash. A pet.”

The chain rattled as Lucifer pulled it taut, laughing as Adam remained motionless beneath his boot.

“Welcome to Hell, Adam,” Lucifer said, his tone dripping with mockery. “You’ll find it quite… accommodating.”

And as his laughter echoed, Adam closed his eyes, the last remnants of his hope shattering like glass.

The mansion was deathly quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed down on Adam’s chest and made his breathing feel shallow, uneven. Lucifer had left hours ago, his departure marked by a cruelly cheery announcement of his plans to visit his “precious little darling.” His voice still echoed in Adam’s head, mocking and sharp.

“I’d bring you along,” Lucifer had said, his grin wide and wicked, “but I think we both remember how well that went last time. Wouldn’t want another little incident with dear Maggie, now would we?”

‘Vaggie’ he would have said…

Adam had flinched at the memory. The cold rage in her eyes. The sharpness of her blade as it sliced too close.

And now, he was alone again.

The grand halls of Lucifer’s mansion, with their dark, gothic splendor, swallowed him whole. It was too large, too empty, and too suffocating all at once. Adam sat curled in a corner of one of the vast, echoing rooms. He pulled his knees to his chest, his golden wings drooping behind him.

Except… they weren’t quite golden anymore.

The once radiant feathers had dulled, the sheen long gone. They looked almost… tarnished. Adam tried not to think about it. He tried not to think about the way his own reflection in the polished floors didn’t quite look like him anymore.

His trembling hands hovered over the cold, flat patch of marble in front of him. There was no soil, no dirt, but there had never been a need for that before. Once, he could summon life itself from nothingness. In Eden, his hands had been a force of creation. Flowers, trees, lush green growth—they bloomed effortlessly at his touch.

He closed his eyes and focused. He could still feel the memory of it, the warmth that used to radiate from his palms, the way the ground would respond to him as though it loved him.

Adam’s breath hitched as he poured all of himself into the attempt. His fingers trembled, his body aching, but he didn’t stop.

Nothing.

The marble was cold and lifeless beneath his hands.

“Come on,” he whispered, his voice shaking. His golden eyes, dimmed and hollow, filled with desperation as he tried again.

Nothing.

“Please,” he choked out, his hands pressing harder against the ground. His tears began to fall, splashing onto the marble, but he didn’t care.

Still nothing.

Adam’s breath came in shallow gasps as his composure cracked, his chest tightening with the weight of failure. His whole body shook as he tried one more time, pouring every ounce of energy, every last scrap of hope he had left into the act.

Nothing.

His hands fell limp to his sides, his head bowing as a sob tore through him. The sound echoed in the empty room, raw and broken.

“I can’t… I can’t even grow a daisy,” he whispered, his voice cracking as more tears streamed down his face.

His shoulders shook as he curled into himself, his sobs coming harder and louder. It was too much. All of it. The humiliation, the pain, the loss. He had given up everything—everything—and this was all that was left. He couldn’t even find comfort in the one thing that had always brought him peace.

As the despair consumed him, his tanned skin began to change. It grew ashen, a sickly grey spreading across his body. The glow of his once-golden eyes dimmed further, flickering like a dying flame. Even the tips of his fingers, the hands that had once brought Eden to life, began to bruise, the vibrant warmth of creation replaced by cold, lifeless decay.

Adam buried his face in his hands, his muffled cries filling the room. He was breaking. The cracks in his spirit, the ones Lucifer had so carefully cultivated, finally split him open.

And still, no one came.

The mansion was silent, uncaring. The world around him had abandoned him, just as Heaven had, just as everyone had. Adam was alone. Utterly and completely alone.

And as his sobs echoed into the emptiness, he wondered if this was all he was destined to be now: a hollow, broken remnant of the man he once was.

The sound of crashing doors shattered the suffocating silence of Lucifer’s mansion. Adam, curled up in his corner, startled at the noise. His ashen skin, bruised fingertips, and dim eyes reflected the exhaustion in his soul. But his head lifted weakly as he heard a voice—bright, insistent, and filled with conviction.

“Enough, Dad! Enough hiding him away like this!”

It was Charlie.

She stormed into the room, her golden hair ablaze with determination, her fiery resolve lighting up the otherwise cold, oppressive halls. Behind her, Vaggie followed, clearly displeased, her sharp gaze darting to Adam and then back to Charlie. Lucifer appeared moments later, his expression an infuriating blend of amusement and exasperation.

“Charlie, my darling,” Lucifer drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe. “To what do I owe this… dramatic intrusion?”

Charlie ignored him, her bright crimson eyes landing on Adam. Her heart broke at the sight of him—this hunched, trembling man who seemed to be shrinking under her gaze. He looked nothing like the figure she had imagined, nothing like the stories she’d heard of the first man.

“Adam deserves a second chance,” she said firmly, turning to face her father.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh, does he now? And what exactly makes you think he’s worth it, my sweet girl?”

“Because I can’t claim to believe in redemption for sinners if I can’t even help the one person who’s already given up everything!” Charlie’s voice cracked, but her resolve didn’t waver. “He’s suffering, Dad. You’re letting him rot here, and for what? To make a point? To punish him?”

Lucifer chuckled darkly. “Punishment builds character.”

“Enough!” she shouted, surprising even herself. “He’s coming to the hotel. I’ll take responsibility. I’ll help him.”

“Charlie, no,” Vaggie interjected, stepping in front of her. “This is a terrible idea. He’s not like the others. He doesn’t belong there.”

“Exactly!” Lucifer chimed in, his grin widening. “Listen to your girlfriend, my dear. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

But Charlie wouldn’t budge. “How can I ask the sinners of Hell to trust me, to believe in redemption, if I turn my back on someone who needs it the most? Someone who’s already lost everything?”

The argument stretched on, voices rising and emotions flaring. Adam sat silently through it all, his head bowed, his hands limp in his lap. He didn’t dare look up, didn’t dare hope.

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, Lucifer threw his hands in the air. “Fine! Take him. But don’t come crying to me when this all blows up in your face.”

Vaggie glared at him but reluctantly grabbed Charlie’s arm, pulling her toward the door. “This is a mistake,” she muttered, her frustration palpable.

As they left, Lucifer’s jovial mask dropped. He crossed the room in a flash, his sharp claws digging into Adam’s arm as he hauled him to his feet.

“Listen closely,” Lucifer hissed, his voice low and venomous. “Charlotte sees something in you. Something good, apparently. She’s willing to give you a second chance. But if you screw this up, if you fail her, I will make your afterlife so much worse.”

Adam nodded mutely, his throat too tight to speak.

At first, Adam thought things might get better. Charlie greeted him warmly, trying her best to make him feel welcome. But the others weren’t so kind.

Husk, the bartender, sneered at him over the counter, his gravelly voice laced with disdain. “So, you’re the infamous Adam, huh? First man, biggest failure. Fitting.”

His words cut deep, wrapped in riddles that danced around outright cruelty but still hit their mark.

Angel Dust was worse, his jabs sharp and relentless. “What’s the matter, Goldilocks? Can’t hack it in Heaven, can’t hack it in Hell? Guess you’re just useless everywhere.” He laughed, his high-pitched cackle echoing in Adam’s ears.

Niffty, with her manic energy, would chase him through the halls with a knife, giggling as though it were all a game. “Come on, Mr. Perfect! Let’s see if you bleed gold!”

Cherri Bomb acted like the mean girl Adam had never encountered but somehow felt all too familiar. She whispered behind his back, her laughter ringing out with Angel Dust’s as she made snide comments.

And then there was Alastor, the Radio Demon. He didn’t need to say much; his presence alone was oppressive. But when he did speak, his words were cruelly calculated to strip Adam of what little dignity he had left.

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he’d say, his grin sharp and sinister. “You’re a relic, a failure. A hollow shell of what you once were.”

Even Vaggie couldn’t hide her disdain, her glares cutting through him like knives.

Adam tried to find solace in the quiet moments, tried to use his ability to grow things. But no matter how hard he focused, nothing came. The dark bruises on his fingers spread further up his hands with each failed attempt. His once-bright golden wings grew duller, the light in his eyes fading into a murky haze.

He was crumbling, piece by piece.

One evening, after watching Adam retreat to his room for the third time that day, Charlie pulled Lucifer aside.

“Dad, what’s wrong with him?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you noticed?” she pressed. “He’s different. His skin, his wings, his eyes—they’re all fading. He’s… he’s breaking, Dad.”

Lucifer frowned, his smirk faltering. He hadn’t noticed. Not really. He thought back but couldn’t recall when the change had started.

“Do you think I did something to him?” he asked, half-joking but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

Charlie’s frustration boiled over. “Maybe you should stop tormenting him for five minutes and actually look at him! He’s barely holding on.”

Lucifer waved her off, but the seed of doubt had been planted.

Later that night, Charlie gathered everyone in the main lounge.

“This stops now,” she said firmly, her voice carrying an authority they rarely heard from her. “The bullying, the mocking—all of it. Adam deserves better.”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in. Adam, hiding in the shadows, didn’t dare hope that things might change. Not anymore.

The silence that followed Charlie’s declaration was thick and uneasy. For a brief moment, Adam thought perhaps the tide would turn, that the words of the princess of Hell might carry enough weight to protect him. But then came the pushback.

Angel Dust was the first to scoff, leaning back lazily on the couch, his legs draped over the armrest.

“Oh, come on, Charlie. You really wanna waste your time defending that?” He gestured toward Adam with a dramatic flourish. “Dude’s a total wet blanket. Can’t even take a joke.”

“Yeah,” Cherri Bomb chimed in, her tone dripping with derision. “It’s not our fault he’s such a buzzkill. He just… doesn’t belong here, Charlie. You’re trying to shove a square peg into a round hole.” She snickered, elbowing Angel, who laughed along with her.

Vaggie crossed her arms, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Charlie, you’re not seeing this clearly. He’s a liability. He doesn’t fit into this place, and he’s dragging everyone down. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment again.”

Niffty piped up, her voice sickeningly sweet but her words laced with venom. “Maybe he’d be happier somewhere else, princess. Somewhere far away.”

She giggled, the sound sending a shiver down Adam’s spine.

Husk grumbled from behind the bar, not even bothering to look up. “Kid’s not cut out for Hell. Or Heaven, apparently. Maybe he should just… I dunno, disappear.” His words stung, their nonchalant delivery only making them more painful.

Even Alastor, who usually revelled in chaos, seemed unimpressed. His ever-present grin widened, but his tone was icy.

“Charlie, my dear, you’re fighting a losing battle. Redemption is your dream, yes? But some souls are simply too far gone.” He glanced at Adam with thinly veiled disdain. “This one is... cracked beyond repair.”

Charlie’s face fell as her friends, one by one, dismissed her plea. Her gaze turned to Lucifer, her last hope for backup.

“Dad?” she asked, her voice soft but pleading. “A little help here?”

Lucifer, lounging lazily in the corner with a glass of wine in hand, shrugged helplessly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Sorry, darling, but you know how stubborn they can be. And, well…” He gestured vaguely toward Adam. “They’re not entirely wrong.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed, her frustration bubbling over. She puffed out her chest, straightened her shoulders, and cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice carried the kind of authority that made the room fall silent.

“I don’t care what any of you think,” she began, her crimson eyes blazing with resolve. “Adam has been through Hell—literally—and he’s still standing. He’s still trying. Do you have any idea how hard that is? After everything he’s lost, everything he’s been through, he hasn’t given up. That’s more than I can say for most of you!”

The room bristled at her words, but Charlie pressed on. “Angel, you came here because you wanted more than to just be some toy for people to use and discard. Cherri, you came here because you wanted to prove you were more than just destruction. Husk, you’re here because you’re tired of drowning your pain in booze. Vaggie, you’re here because you believe in me, in what we’re trying to do. And Alastor…”

She hesitated but forced herself to look him in the eye. “Even you came here because a part of you wanted to see if redemption was possible.”

Her gaze swept the room, daring anyone to interrupt. “How can we call ourselves a place of second chances if we’re not willing to give him one? How can I stand here and say I believe in redemption if I turn my back on someone who needs it the most?”

The silence that followed was deafening. For a moment, it seemed like her words might have reached them. But then Vaggie shook her head, her expression hard.

“It’s not the same, Charlie. Adam’s not like us. He’s not one of us. He doesn’t belong here.”

Charlie’s heart sank, but she refused to back down. “He’s not one of you because none of you are giving him a chance to be. He’s trying, but you’re all too busy tearing him down to see it.”

Adam, huddled in the shadows, felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity: hope. But it was fragile, delicate, and he couldn’t bring himself to believe it would last.

Lucifer watched the scene unfold with mild amusement, swirling his wine in his glass.

“Well, Charlie,” he drawled, “if you’re so determined to play saviour, I won’t stop you. But don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

Charlie ignored him, her focus entirely on her friends. “This is my hotel, and I’m telling you all right now: the bullying stops. Adam is one of us now, whether you like it or not. And if you can’t accept that, then maybe you’re the ones who don’t belong here.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. One by one, the others looked away, grumbling but offering no further resistance. Charlie turned to Adam, her expression softening as she extended a hand toward him.

“Come on, Adam,” she said gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Adam hesitated, his dimmed golden eyes searching hers for any sign of deceit. But all he saw was sincerity, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to hope.

As he reached for her hand, Lucifer chuckled softly from the corner, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s see how long this lasts.”

Everyone was trying. Really trying. Adam could feel it. Husk would make small talk with him, Angel Dust would occasionally flash him a grin, and Niffty would clean around him with an overly bright smile. They were trying so hard to be nice to him, but Adam could tell it was all for Charlie’s sake. There was an air of forced politeness, a tightness in their voices and movements that Adam couldn’t ignore. It all felt... fake. Like the way a person tries to smile when they don’t really want to. He saw their relationships—the way Husk and Angel Dust seemed inseparable, the way Niffty gazed at Alastor with starstruck adoration, the way Alastor himself only seemed to genuinely smile when Niffty was near. And Charlie was the only person who could make Vaggie’s lips curl upward in a rare, hesitant smile.

But Adam saw through it all. They weren’t doing it because they wanted to. They were doing it because Charlie asked them to. Adam couldn’t help but feel like an outsider. It reminded him of the angels back in Heaven, how they’d always been kind to him, but only because it was expected of them. They never really cared.

And then, Adam thought of Lucifer. Eden. The way Lucifer had never really liked him, not the way Adam had wanted, the way he had convinced himself he could be loved. It hurt. The realization stabbed at him, deep and brutal. Lucifer never cared. He had been just as fake as the others. And that... hurt the most. Adam’s hands trembled as he realized, more clearly than ever before, that he had wished for something that had never been there. A lie he had told himself in Eden, that he could be loved. A part of him still wished for it—just one person, anyone, to truly like him.

Adam pulled his knees to his chest, huddling in a corner of the empty hotel. He clenched his fists, forcing all his energy into his hands. If he could just make something—anything—grow, maybe he’d feel better. A flower. Just one. But nothing happened. Nothing at all. His shoulders slumped as the weight of failure pressed down on him. He closed his eyes, feeling the coldness seep deeper into his bones.

 What was the point?

A voice broke the silence, cutting through his thoughts.

“What are you doing?” it asked, low and unexpectedly curious.

Adam jerked in surprise, his heart leaping as he quickly looked up. Lucifer was standing there, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes fixed on him. There was no cruel smirk, no mocking stare—just genuine curiosity in those fiery eyes. Adam’s breath hitched as Lucifer crouched beside him, inspecting the ground with a frown.

“If you're damaging Charlie's hotel,” Lucifer added, raising an eyebrow, “I won’t be happy.”

Adam swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I’m not,” he muttered, voice small. “I wasn’t—”

Lucifer’s eyes stayed on him, his expression still soft. “Then what are you doing?”

Adam hesitated, his gaze falling back to the empty space in front of him. “I... I was trying to grow a daisy,” he said quietly, the words feeling hollow and stupid as they left his mouth.

Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What?”

Adam sighed deeply, the weight of everything pressing in on him. His wings fluttered weakly behind him, their gold dimming, almost silver in the fading light.

“Back when I was in Heaven... I could grow things,” he explained, his voice breaking just slightly. “Things from Eden... and they always made me feel better…when I was sad I mean. Like... like I was still part of it, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t speak for a moment, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Adam glanced up, catching a flicker of something soft in Lucifer’s gaze—something almost... tender. Adam flushed, suddenly embarrassed by his vulnerability.

“If you're just gonna make fun of me, just do it already.”

Lucifer opened his mouth, but instead of ridicule, he closed it again, shaking his head slowly.

“I’m not going to make fun of you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’m just... surprised.”

Adam’s face twisted with confusion. “Why? Because I’m not worthy enough for nature to like me either?”

Lucifer looked taken aback, his gaze softening. “What? No. That’s not what I mean at all.”

He hesitated, then sighed, a deep, almost nostalgic sound. “Look, Adam... I get it. Okay? I miss Eden too.”

Adam blinked, surprised by the admission. Lucifer, of all people, missing Eden? “You do?”

Lucifer nodded, his eyes briefly distant as if remembering something painful. “Every day. I still dream about it sometimes. The way the trees... the way everything felt. Alive. Like nothing could touch it.” He glanced at Adam again, his voice quieter now. “I never could make things grow like you could. I used to try... but it didn’t work for me. I was always just a little... too far gone.”

Adam’s heart gave a painful lurch. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Lucifer—King of Hell, the fallen angel who had ruled over so many—admitting he missed Eden, admitting that he couldn’t do what Adam could? It was a side of Lucifer Adam had never seen, and it left him at a loss for words.

Lucifer’s eyes softened, and there was a quiet, almost hesitant energy between them. “Look, Adam...”

Lucifer trailed off, his voice laced with something close to sincerity. “I’m sorry for all of it. The way things have gone... it wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

Adam looked up at him, still processing his words. “You... you really miss it?”

Lucifer’s expression tightened for a brief second, but it quickly relaxed as he gave a small, wry smile. “Yeah. I miss it. A lot.”

Adam blinked, his tired eyes fixed on Lucifer as the King of Hell rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, exposing his pale arm adorned with faint scars and tattoos that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. Lucifer smirked faintly, though it lacked his usual malice. There was an unusual softness in his expression, almost a flicker of nostalgia that Adam hadn’t seen before.

“Watch this,” Lucifer said, his voice low but not unkind. His sharp claws extended, and with a graceful motion, he dragged them through the air above the ground. Gold light sparked and swirled from his fingertips, pooling into the floor like liquid sunlight. The energy pulsed, then shimmered before something began to rise from the cracks in the floorboards.

At first, Adam’s heart jumped. The glow was reminiscent of Eden—golden vines, delicate petals, and the pure vitality of the paradise he’d once known. But as the plants fully emerged, his expression twisted into a mix of awe and horror.

The flowers were... wrong. They had teeth—sharp, jagged ones that snapped aggressively. Their petals curled in unnatural spirals, and their vines writhed like snakes. One particularly bold flower lunged forward, its snapping maw aimed directly at Adam’s face.

Adam yelped, stumbling backward just as Lucifer’s hand shot out, gripping his shoulder and yanking him out of the way.

“Whoa, careful!” Lucifer exclaimed, his grin spreading as he moved a clawed hand to restrain the offending plant. The flower hissed—actually hissed—before retreating, sulking back into the ground.

For a moment, there was silence between them. Then, unexpectedly, Lucifer started to laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed through the quiet hallway. It wasn’t mocking or cruel; it was warm, almost boyish in its condor. Adam stared at him, wide-eyed, before a reluctant chuckle escaped his lips. Soon, the two of them were laughing together, the absurdity of the situation washing over them like a tide.

“Well, that’s new,” Adam muttered, brushing himself off as his laughter died down into soft chuckles.

Lucifer’s smirk lingered, but there was something different about it now—something less guarded.

“Yeah, not exactly Eden, huh?” he said, gesturing at the chaotic plants that were slowly retreating back into the floor. “It’s... a work in progress.”

Adam hesitated, still processing what he’d seen.

“Wait,” he said quietly, looking at Lucifer with an unreadable expression. “You mean to tell me... you’ve been trying to grow things, too?”

Lucifer glanced at him, the sharpness in his gaze softening ever so slightly.

“Of course I have,” he admitted, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. “Do you think I’ve forgotten what Eden felt like? The smell of the air, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees? The way it... made you feel alive, like you belonged?”

His voice faltered, just for a moment, before he continued. “I dream about it sometimes. About being there again.”

Adam blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected that level of vulnerability from Lucifer. “You miss it,” he said softly, more to himself than to Lucifer.

Lucifer chuckled dryly, his gaze distant. “Miss it? Adam, I ache for it. Every damn day. I don’t care how many eons pass—I’ll never stop craving what I lost.”

He glanced down at his clawed hand, flexing his fingers. “But Eden doesn’t want me anymore. I can try to grow things, but... well, you saw the results.”

Adam’s brow furrowed as he watched Lucifer, his own sense of loneliness momentarily overshadowed by an odd sense of understanding. “I didn’t know,” he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere. “I thought... you were just okay with all of this. That you didn’t care.”

Lucifer snorted, a hint of his usual arrogance creeping back into his expression. “Oh, I care. But caring doesn’t change the fact that I’ll never step foot in Eden again.”

He tilted his head, studying Adam. “What about you? Do you still dream about it?”

Adam swallowed hard, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Every night…I used to take comfort in it. Growing things, I mean. It made me feel... closer to it. Like I hadn’t lost everything.”

 He looked down, his voice trembling slightly. “But now... I can’t even do that anymore…”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on Adam, and for once, there was no mockery in his eyes—just something akin to understanding. He reached out, placing a clawed hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“You’re not the only one,” he said softly, his tone carrying a weight that Adam hadn’t heard before.

Adam looked up at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a small flicker of warmth—like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely alone.

Lucifer smirked again, though it was softer this time.

“Don’t get used to this,” he teased, his tone light. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

Adam chuckled weakly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they sat there, the tension between them seemed to ease, if only for a moment. For the first time, Adam felt like he wasn’t just a pawn in someone else’s game. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

As the days turned into weeks, the small moments between Adam and Lucifer began to feel like something more, something real. Adam had always known that Lucifer was dangerous, unpredictable, and cruel. But lately, Lucifer’s presence seemed to carry a different weight. A weight that wasn’t just about power or dominance, but something deeper, something more complex. It was as if, little by little, Lucifer was thawing—letting himself soften around Adam in ways he hadn’t with anyone in centuries.

Adam could feel it, too. Though he was still struggling to grow anything, despite his best efforts, there was a shift inside him. He no longer felt as desperate. Instead of the crushing disappointment he would have felt before, when his powers refused to work, there was a quiet acceptance. A sort of understanding that maybe the things that had once come so easily to him were no longer in his grasp—but that didn’t mean he was without value. Not anymore. And that was something he had Lucifer to thank for.

One evening, after another failed attempt at coaxing life from the barren earth beneath him, Adam slumped to the ground in frustration. His hands were covered in dirt, his wings drooping heavily behind him. He had been trying to grow a single flower—just one—but it seemed as though the magic that had once flowed through him so easily was slipping further away each day. He was just about to give up when he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye.

A small yellow rubber duck sat in the dirt, perfectly positioned in his line of sight.

Adam blinked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. He hadn’t seen it before—hadn’t noticed it anywhere nearby. But there it was, so innocently placed, as if it had appeared just for him. His first instinct was to laugh, a soft, bewildered chuckle escaping his lips. It was such a random, out-of-place object to find in the midst of his failure. But somehow, it didn’t seem out of place at all. It felt... comforting. Like it was meant to be there.

Before he could contemplate the oddity too much, he heard a voice, low and teasing.

“What’s this? A rubber duck in a garden of death?” Lucifer’s voice carried a hint of amusement, but there was something else beneath it. Curiosity, maybe.

Adam looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I... I don’t know. It just appeared, like magic.” He picked it up, turning it over in his hands as if it might somehow hold the answers he was searching for.

Lucifer crouched down beside him, his golden eyes gleaming in the dimming light of the evening. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Adam’s forehead—a surprisingly gentle gesture.

“Seems like someone has a little sense of humor,” Lucifer mused, his voice softer than Adam was used to hearing. He was staring at the duck with an odd fondness, almost as though it reminded him of something—or someone—long ago. “You’ve been trying to grow things, haven’t you?” he asked, his tone more careful than usual.

Adam nodded, his fingers tightening around the rubber duck. He didn’t want to admit how much it had been weighing on him lately—not just the inability to use his powers, but the ache of knowing that something so fundamental to who he was seemed lost to him now.

“I’ve been trying,” Adam said quietly. “But... nothing works. It’s like I’ve forgotten how.”

Lucifer’s expression shifted. He tilted his head, watching Adam with a quiet intensity. “You haven’t forgotten, Adam. Sometimes, things just take longer than we want them to.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Maybe you’re not meant to grow flowers right now. Maybe... maybe you’re meant to grow something else.”

Adam didn’t answer right away. The words lingered, reverberating in his mind. He hadn’t considered that—hadn’t thought that maybe this struggle was part of something bigger than just his powers. Maybe it was something about him, about his journey, that he hadn’t yet understood.

But instead of letting his mind spiral into doubt and frustration, Adam found himself simply appreciating the moment. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t completely alone. The duck, the conversation—everything about it felt... small, but important.

Lucifer, noticing the shift in Adam’s demeanor, smiled faintly. It wasn’t a mocking smile, but something more real, something softer than Adam had ever expected from the King of Hell.

“I know it’s not easy,” Lucifer said, his voice quiet now, almost tender. “You think you’re the only one who’s lost something? That you’re the only one who’s struggling?” He paused. “I miss Eden, too. I miss what I used to be. But we’re here now. And... maybe that’s enough.”

Adam glanced at Lucifer, surprise flickering in his eyes. For a moment, their gazes locked, and Adam saw something in Lucifer’s eyes—a kind of sadness, a rawness that mirrored his own. It was fleeting, but it was there. And in that moment, Adam realized just how much they had in common. How much they both carried, how much they both missed.

“Maybe,” Adam murmured, his voice soft. “Maybe we’re both just trying to figure out how to be... okay.”

Lucifer didn’t answer right away, but when he did, his tone was uncharacteristically warm. “Maybe you’re right.”

They sat there for a while, neither of them speaking. Lucifer leaned against the tree, and Adam cradled the rubber duck in his hands, staring at it like it held the key to something he couldn’t yet understand. It was a small, silly thing—but to Adam, it felt like a symbol of hope.

As the silence stretched on, Lucifer shifted, his wings rustling slightly as he stood up. He offered a hand to Adam, who took it after a moment, letting Lucifer help him to his feet. It wasn’t the sharp, commanding gesture Adam had expected. Instead, it was gentle, steady.

“You’re doing alright,” Lucifer said, his voice quieter than usual. “Better than I thought you would.”

Adam met his gaze, surprise and something else—something warmer—flickering inside him. For a moment, he wasn’t the fallen angel. He wasn’t the broken soul who had failed. He was just Adam. And in that moment, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he had thought.

Lucifer gave him a small, genuine smile—nothing grand, but it felt like a small victory. Adam smiled back, feeling something inside him soften, just a little. Maybe this was the start of something new. Maybe, for the first time, he wasn’t just clinging to the past. He was building something for the future.

And that felt like enough.

As the days passed, the connection between Lucifer and Adam deepened in ways neither of them had anticipated. It started with little things—small conversations, stolen glances, moments where their laughter rang out in sync. They were bonding in a way that felt more intimate than either had expected. What had begun as a slow thawing of walls soon became something more. Something that neither could quite name, but both felt.

Lucifer was not often one to show vulnerability, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor when he was with Adam. It wasn���t just about the playful jabs or the moments of sarcasm; it was the way he listened, how he’d catch Adam’s eye just a little longer than necessary, or how his voice would soften when speaking to him. His presence felt more than just a force of power—he felt, for the first time in centuries, like a person. And that person... cared about Adam. In ways that both scared and thrilled him.

Adam, on the other hand, was far more cautious. The walls he had spent so long building were cracking, and with each passing day, he felt them crumble further. He would catch himself in moments of quiet, just staring at Lucifer, his thoughts wandering to places he didn’t dare to go. But every time, he pulled back. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—let himself fall again. Not after everything that had happened. Not after Eden.

He had loved Lucifer once, in a way that was pure and innocent. But now? Now, it was complicated. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—it was still there, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t forget what had happened in Eden, how Lucifer had cast him aside, how everything had changed. The love he had felt had turned to dust, a painful reminder of a time long gone.

Yet, despite all the distance Adam tried to put between them, despite the walls he erected in his heart, he couldn’t help but feel the pull when Lucifer was near. Lucifer’s smile, the way his eyes softened when they met Adam’s, the quiet moments when they’d sit together in silence—those things still made Adam’s heart ache. But each time, he pushed those feelings down. He couldn’t allow himself to fall back into that. Not again.

One evening, as the two of them sat in a dimly lit corner of the mansion, Lucifer was telling one of his stories. His voice was smooth, effortless, but Adam found his thoughts drifting. The warmth in Lucifer’s words, the way his eyes seemed to shine as he spoke—it was hard not to feel something. But Adam quickly snapped himself out of it, forcing his attention back to the conversation.

Lucifer glanced over at him, his eyes searching Adam’s face as if trying to read something beneath the surface.

“What’s on your mind, Adam?” Lucifer asked, his voice quieter than usual. There was an edge of concern in it, a softness that Adam wasn’t used to hearing.

Adam flinched slightly, caught off guard. He shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Nothing. Just... lost in thought.”

Lucifer didn’t seem convinced. He leaned in slightly, his gaze never leaving Adam. “You know, you don’t have to lie to me. Not anymore.”

Adam’s chest tightened, a pang of guilt washing over him. He didn’t want to let Lucifer see him like this, didn’t want to let him know how much he still felt. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“I’m not lying,” Adam said, his voice strained. “I’m fine.”

Lucifer didn’t buy it. His eyes narrowed, but instead of pressing further, he simply nodded, though there was something unreadable in his expression. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he studied Adam.

Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucifer could see right through him—that, maybe, Lucifer could see the part of him he was trying so hard to hide. The part of him that still wanted to reach out. The part of him that still cared.

But the fear was there, too—the fear of getting hurt again, of being abandoned. The fear of giving his heart to Lucifer and having it torn to shreds once more.

A silence stretched between them, but it was a comfortable one—unlike the awkward pauses that used to fill the room when they first started spending time together. It was as if they had both accepted that there was something unsaid, something lingering, but neither wanted to push it. At least, not yet.

After a while, Adam stood up, feeling the weight of his thoughts press down on him. He couldn’t stay there, not with Lucifer watching him like that. He needed to be alone. He had to clear his head, to stop this cycle of feelings from taking hold of him.

“I think I’ll take a walk,” Adam said, his voice low as he turned away, his wings brushing against the air.

Lucifer didn’t stop him, though Adam could feel the King’s gaze following him as he walked toward the door. He wasn’t sure if it was concern or something else, but either way, he couldn’t bear to be around Lucifer right now. Not when the temptation to give in to those feelings was so strong.

As Adam stepped out into the cold night air, he tried to push everything aside. The ache in his chest, the longing for something he wasn’t sure he should have, the fear of falling into something that could never work. But as he walked down the garden path, something caught his eye.

A single flower, blooming impossibly in the cold, dark soil.

Adam stopped, staring at it, his breath catching in his throat. It was small, delicate, but it was real. A real flower, growing against all odds. For a moment, he just stood there, mesmerized by its simple beauty. And then he realized—he hadn’t planted it. It had just appeared.

His hand shook as he reached down, gently brushing his fingers against the petals. It was a sign. A sign of hope, maybe. A sign that, just like the flower, there was still something inside him that could grow, something that wasn’t broken beyond repair.

But as he stood there, his mind wandered back to Lucifer. Back to those soft smiles, those fleeting moments of kindness, and the way Lucifer looked at him sometimes, as though he was seeing something Adam had long since buried.

It was almost too much.

Adam closed his eyes, willing the thoughts away. But it was too late. He couldn’t stop it anymore.

He wanted Lucifer. In a way that scared him, in a way that he couldn’t deny. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to face that. Not yet.

When he returned to the mansion, he found Lucifer sitting near the window, his eyes distant but his posture relaxed. Lucifer didn’t look up when Adam entered, but he spoke anyway.

“You didn’t have to go,” Lucifer said, his voice quiet, almost knowing. “You’re not alone, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”

Adam froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to lean into the warmth of Lucifer’s words and let himself fall. But something in him still held back, still fought against it.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just... I needed some space,” he said, trying to sound casual, but the lie hung heavily between them.

Lucifer didn’t push. He just nodded, and for a long moment, they stood in silence, two souls adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Adam didn’t know what to do, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t keep pretending that he didn’t feel what he did. And that terrified him more than anything else.

Adam sat across from Charlie in her bright, sun-filled office, the soft hum of her voice buzzing in the background as she spoke with enthusiasm. Her words were warm and encouraging, and her eyes shone with pride as she talked about his progress. Adam forced a smile, nodding occasionally to acknowledge her, but inside, his mind was elsewhere—far from the cheerful praise she was showering on him.

Charlie was talking about how much he’d improved since arriving at the hotel. How he’d taken to his tasks, how he had made an effort to change. She spoke of how proud she was of his work around the hotel, how the guests and staff had noticed the difference in him, how much more comfortable he seemed.

"Adam, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see the growth you’ve shown! You’ve really come so far. It’s honestly incredible! The way you’ve been helping with the garden, the little touches around the hotel, your willingness to pitch in… it’s all so amazing." Charlie’s voice was full of genuine excitement as she gestured toward the door, as if everything about Adam’s presence in the hotel was a small victory.

Adam’s gaze shifted to the window, his mind drifting off again, away from her words. He wasn’t listening fully. Not really. His thoughts were tangled up in a storm of emotions, spinning around a singular, complicated person—Lucifer.

Every time he caught himself thinking about Lucifer, a knot twisted in his chest. The warmth, the care, the way Lucifer’s touch lingered in his memory, always accompanied by that cruel smirk that had once sent him spiraling. But now—now, it was different. There were moments when Lucifer's eyes softened, when his tone was gentler, when Adam felt like maybe... maybe Lucifer wasn’t just toying with him. Maybe there was something there, something real.

But then the fear would set in. Adam wasn’t sure he could go through that kind of pain again. Loving Lucifer had once been his everything, and when that love had been ripped away in Eden, it had broken him in ways he wasn’t sure he could ever repair. To love him again, to feel that warmth, would mean trusting him all over again. And trusting Lucifer had never ended well before.

Lost in his thoughts, Adam absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the silver feathers along his wings. He frowned. When had they changed?

The golden feathers, the radiant glow that used to shine so brightly, were gone. Replaced by the dull, muted sheen of silver. He hadn’t noticed until now, but the transformation seemed so subtle that it made him wonder: when had his wings shifted? And when had they become... so lifeless?

"Adam? Adam, are you listening?" Charlie's voice broke through the haze of his thoughts, and he blinked, trying to refocus on her.

"Sorry," he muttered, shaking his head slightly. "I—I was just thinking."

Charlie smiled, oblivious to the storm brewing behind his eyes. "That’s okay! I just wanted to make sure you know how proud I am of you. You’ve really come a long way, and I think—"

Her expression softened, and she placed her hands on the desk, leaning forward as her eyes sparkled. "I think there’s so much potential in you. You're really making a difference here, Adam. I’m so happy to see you improving."

Her voice was full of warmth, full of sincerity, and it made his chest tighten. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for how little he truly felt like he was progressing. Charlie saw him as someone who was moving forward, growing into a new version of himself, but Adam didn’t feel that. He didn’t feel like he was growing—at least not in the way she thought.

The silence between them stretched out longer than it should have, and Adam was finally forced to pull himself from the depths of his thoughts. He gave her a small, strained smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Thanks, Charlie. I... appreciate it."

Charlie’s smile widened, oblivious to the turmoil brewing beneath Adam’s surface. "Of course! You’ve worked so hard, Adam. I just want you to know how proud I am, and I really believe you have what it takes to make it here. You’re doing great."

Adam’s fingers twitched, and for a moment, he felt the urge to flee. He wanted to be anywhere but here, sitting across from Charlie, hearing the things he knew he should feel grateful for but couldn’t. There was something missing, something that he couldn’t quite put into words.

"Yeah, I’m trying my best." Adam said quietly, his voice almost distant as he stared at his hands, fingers trembling ever so slightly. They were bruised from the constant use, worn from trying and failing to do what he once could do so effortlessly.

But the truth was, he wasn’t just trying his best to improve at the hotel. He was trying his best to hold it together, to pretend that everything was fine. That the silver feathers on his wings didn’t feel like a symbol of everything he had lost. That the distance between him and the one person he wanted most didn’t tear him apart a little more each day.

Charlie’s voice brought him back once more. "You know, I’m so glad you’re here, Adam. It’s like you’re meant to be a part of this place."

She paused, tilting her head slightly. "You just have to believe in yourself a little more. I know you’re capable of amazing things, Adam."

Adam nodded, the words swirling in his head as his heart grew heavier with each passing second. He wanted to believe her. He really did. He wanted to believe that the person he used to be—that the person who had been capable of bringing life and beauty to the world—wasn’t gone for good. But when he tried to reach for that part of himself, it felt like something was missing, like the wings that had once been so full of light were now tarnished, just like the man who wore them.

"I’ll try," he said, his voice quiet, almost defeated.

Charlie beamed at him, clearly satisfied with his response. She didn’t know how much those words hurt, how much the hope she gave him only seemed to highlight how far he’d fallen.

But Charlie didn’t see that. She didn’t know the secret ache he carried inside. She couldn’t see the loneliness in his eyes, nor the way his heart longed for something that felt unreachable.

As Charlie continued to talk, her voice a steady stream of praise and encouragement, Adam’s mind wandered once more. But this time, instead of focusing on his failures, his mind drifted to Lucifer—the one person who had always been there, and yet, had never truly been there for him. A bittersweet yearning tugged at him, pulling him toward the man whose presence both comforted and terrified him.

The only question was: Was Lucifer just as lost as he was?

Later, Adam stood in the garden of the hotel, his eyes tracing the edges of the flowers, watching them flutter in the breeze. He couldn’t grow anything. Not even the simplest flower. His fingers twitched, but the soil remained untouched by any kind of magic. The golden light of his wings had dimmed so much over the weeks. It seemed like he was fading. He hated this feeling—the sense of helplessness, the constant reminder of what he'd lost. And all he wanted was to escape into the solace of his thoughts, to forget about everything around him. But no matter how hard he tried, Lucifer was always in the back of his mind.

Just as he was about to turn and retreat inside, a voice cut through the air, smooth and almost too calm. "You’re always running away from something, aren’t you?"

Adam stiffened, recognizing the voice immediately. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He was used to the sound of Lucifer’s footsteps, the way they echoed in the quiet of the hotel’s garden, the air thick with tension every time they crossed paths.

Adam swallowed hard and slowly turned around, his pulse quickening despite himself. Lucifer was standing by the stone archway that framed the garden, the faintest of smirks playing at the corners of his lips. His red eyes glinted in the pale moonlight, his presence all-encompassing. The way he looked at Adam sent a shiver down his spine.

"What do you want?" Adam muttered, his voice not quite steady. He was trying so hard to keep his emotions in check, to keep things from spiraling.

Lucifer stepped closer, the air around him crackling with something dangerous and enticing. "I want a lot of things, Adam. But tonight... I want you to stop running from me."

Adam's heart skipped a beat. He knew what Lucifer meant. He wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t blind to the moments they shared—those moments when their gazes lingered too long, when their words were layered with something unspoken. But Adam didn’t know how to deal with it. He couldn’t. Not again. He had already given up so much of himself in the past, and he wasn’t sure he could survive losing himself to Lucifer once more.

Lucifer took another step forward, and Adam’s breath hitched. "Why do you keep avoiding this?" Lucifer’s voice was low, almost like a whisper meant only for Adam. "You’ve been pushing me away, and I don’t understand why. You think I don’t know what’s happening between us?"

Adam felt a pang in his chest, something between hope and fear. His heart was fighting against the pull of Lucifer’s words. It would be so easy to fall back into what they once were. It would be so easy to let Lucifer back in, to let him take all of Adam’s pieces and make them whole again. But there was too much pain, too many memories of betrayal.

“I’m not… I’m not running from you,” Adam said, though his voice cracked slightly, betraying the lie.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, as if he’d heard the lie for what it was. "Really?"

He was close now, close enough that Adam could feel the heat of Lucifer’s presence, the magnetic pull of his aura. "Then why is it, every time I look at you, I see that little flicker of hesitation? Why is it, when I reach out to you, you flinch?"

Adam took a step back, trying to put distance between them, but Lucifer moved faster, catching his wrist in a vice-like grip before he could even process the movement. Adam’s pulse thudded loudly in his ears, his breath coming faster, his body reacting against his will.

"Lucifer..." Adam breathed, but his words felt hollow.

Lucifer’s gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a split second before his face hardened once more. He leaned down, his lips dangerously close to Adam’s ear. "I can feel it too, you know. You think I don’t see how you look at me, how you still care?" His voice was a low rumble. "I’ve waited, Adam. I’ve waited long enough."

Before Adam could react, Lucifer pressed his lips to Adam’s, a slow, deliberate kiss that sent a shock of electricity through Adam’s body. It wasn’t desperate, not frantic, but it was heavy with years of longing. And it made Adam’s heart race, made the walls around him tremble and crack.

For a moment, Adam was frozen, caught in the undeniable heat of it, caught in the magnetic pull of Lucifer’s touch, the way his lips seemed to claim him. He had never experienced anything like it before—the weight of it, the depth, the rawness of it.

But then reality crashed back, and Adam pulled away, his body reacting instinctively. His hands shoved against Lucifer’s chest, pushing him away as he gasped for air, panic flooding him.

“No, no, no,” Adam whispered, his voice frantic. "I can’t... I can’t do this again, Lucifer."

Lucifer didn’t step back immediately. His gaze was intense, filled with something Adam couldn’t fully read—frustration, maybe, but also a twisted kind of satisfaction. "Why?" Lucifer asked, his voice soft, but the undercurrent of hurt was clear. "Why do you keep rejecting me? Why can’t you just let go, Adam? You don’t have to be alone anymore."

"I’m not... I’m not the person you think I am," Adam said, shaking his head violently. His wings fluttered, the silver feathers brushing against his back as he took another step back, away from Lucifer. "You don’t understand. I don’t want this."

Lucifer finally stepped back, his eyes darkening, but there was no anger in them—only quiet, haunting patience.

"I understand more than you think, Adam. And I’m not going anywhere."

Adam’s breath was shaky, his heart pounding, but he couldn’t look away from Lucifer’s piercing gaze. He wanted to stay, wanted to let it happen, to let himself be loved, to feel the warmth of it again. But he couldn’t. Not like this. Not when the scars were still so fresh.

Without another word, Adam turned and fled, his wings flapping desperately behind him as he ran into the hotel, his heart torn in two.

He didn’t know how to love Lucifer again. Not yet. And he wasn’t sure he ever would.

Lucifer threw himself onto the couch in Charlie’s office with a dramatic sigh, stretching out his long limbs and letting his head flop backward. The couch creaked beneath him as he stared up at the ceiling, his wings flaring out behind him.

“Dad,” Charlie muttered without looking up from her paperwork. “What are you doing here? This is my office, you know. Serious professionalism happens in here.”

Lucifer gasped as if she had just insulted him.

“This is serious, Charlie!” he insisted, his voice filled with mock indignation. “I need your advice.”

Charlie rolled her eyes but set down her pen, leaning back in her chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. What’s going on now?”

Lucifer didn’t hesitate, his voice faltering slightly as he spoke. “I’m... trying with Adam.” He winced as the words left his mouth. “I think he likes me. I mean, I know he does... but he keeps rejecting me.”

Charlie’s brow furrowed, her gaze shifting from her desk to Lucifer, who was now dramatically sulking on the couch. “Wait. Hold on.”

She leaned forward, the chair creaking slightly. “You're upset because Adam keeps rejecting your advances?”

Lucifer nodded solemnly, his usually confident demeanor slipping just a little.

“Exactly,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and genuine confusion. “I don’t get it, Charlie. I’m trying to be patient with him. I’m making an effort, but it’s like... nothing’s working.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow, tapping her fingers against the desk thoughtfully.

“Dad...” she started, a small, almost playful smirk creeping onto her face. “You do realize you haven’t exactly been the nicest to him, right?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean by that?”

He sat up on the couch, looking at her with furrowed brows. “I’ve been trying to change, okay? I’m being patient! I’m not the same person I was in Eden!”

Charlie folded her arms across her chest, giving him a knowing look. “You’ve made progress, sure. But that doesn’t erase everything that’s happened between you two. You can't just expect him to suddenly be okay with everything after all the things you did to him.”

"I...what?" Lucifer breathed out.

"I don't know what happened between you, Adam and Mum, but I can tell Adam got the short end of the stick." Charlie accussed. "And you haven't been nice about it at all. You've been down right mean."

Lucifer’s expression faltered for a moment, and he slouched back into the couch. His eyes dropped, as if the weight of her words hit him harder than he’d expected.

“I didn’t mean for things to get this way. I never wanted to hurt him... But I’m trying now. I really am.”

Charlie sighed, her voice softening as she leaned back in her chair. “I know you’re trying, but Adam... he’s been hurt. A lot. He can’t just flip a switch and forget everything you’ve done.”

Lucifer was silent for a long moment, looking down at his clawed hands, his fingers twitching slightly. “I don’t know how to make it right, Charlie. I don’t know how to get through to him.”

Charlie looked at him with a mix of frustration and sympathy, her eyes locking onto his. “Maybe you need to start by showing him that you’re really, truly sorry. That you’re not just doing this because you want something from him, but because you care about him. You have to earn his trust again, Dad. It’s not going to happen overnight.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened as he slowly nodded. “I don’t want to hurt him anymore, Charlie. I don’t want him to keep rejecting me... but maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to earn his trust first.”

Charlie gave a small, approving smile, before turning back to her desk. “Well, there you go. It’s going to take time, but if you really care about him, you’ll make it work. Just don’t expect it to be easy.”

Lucifer leaned back on the couch, his arms folded behind his head. For the first time in a while, his mind wasn’t consumed with anger or pride. Instead, he found himself deep in thought about Adam, about how to show him the truth of his feelings—how to prove to him that he was truly trying to be a better person.

“I’ll make it right, Charlie,” Lucifer muttered, his voice filled with resolve. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

[definitelynotshouting]

lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) | Chapter 11

Summary:

Grian, when it comes down to it, is many things— a patchwork quilt of stolen code, copied memories, disparate ashes lifted from the last dregs of fire and pressed back into a mold; the facsimile of a Player. Of his own borrowed faults, he cradles many: stubborn persistence, reckless impulsivity, a cruelty born of his own capricious fractals. All gnash their teeth against the speckled woodgrain of Grian’s self-control, a gnawing beast at the distal roots of rotting trees. With the sun’s tempered ascent limning every raddled board in the wall, what wells up between his gums and teeth now is impatience. Last night’s fall had been snake eyes in a roll of the dice, paid for in the hot, tender pulses at the back of his skull, collected tenfold in the blossom of bruises swallowing his skin beneath the jumper. The warm, giddy buzz thrilling in his chest has begun to cool somewhat, making deferential way for a wash of numb static; blinding, a little stupid— lutulent where he stares blankly at the wall. Blink; the world falls prey to a hazy fog, twin cotton veils tumbling over his eyes. Blink again; it peels back at the corners, a wince in the early march of morn. Caught between two maligned realities, Grian traces the muzzy halftones where they curve and melt into the floor, and follows each crevice in the wood until his eyes begin to burn.

I LIVE!! I DIE!! I LIVE AGAIN!!!!

As promised, here's the official pretty post™ to put on your blogs announcing HUNGER AU IS BACK ON THE MENU BABEYYYY!!!!! Thank you to everyone who was so incredibly patient waiting for me to return-- im back now, and hopefully i wont be falling off the map again like that any time soon.

But thats not all im bringing you with this update!! My very dear friend @corvidaearts made an official Hunger AU Carrd for my birthday in october, which im finally now able to properly promote. Thank you Crow, for being an absolutely incredible friend and a madlad at making carrds-- seriously, if you want a gorgeous web design, go hit them up for a commission :D

As always, likes are appreciated, reblogs are treasured, and comments in the tags or on the fic itself will net you a place of honor on my fridge. Thanks for being so patient, and hope you all enjoy the chapter! Cheers, and here's to the upcoming New Year!!!!❤️🥂

[ray935sworld]

Visiting an old friend

Rosquez, Vale & Sic

25.12 Winter writing

Content information: the following writing includes Vale talking to Sic at his grave (no counter interaction). If this is something you're not comfortable with or that might triggers you, do not read.

I know some people or more hesitant when it comes to these topic. I don't mean any disrespect. I wrote this as part of a coping mechanism.

"Hey buddy, long time no seen" Vale said as he sat down opposite his old friend. "And I am completely aware that this is all my fault. So I apologize"

He smiled and felt the warmth he got in return. The other wasn't angry. He never was. He was just happy he was here now.

"You know, I... Funny story. I actually still thought our little meetings were a secret from Marc. But my dear husband told me to tell you that he says hi"

He remembered just a little bit earlier. "Give me a little bit time" he had whispered at Marc's ear when he kissed him awake. It was the early hours in the morning. 5.30 am. But he couldn't keep sleeping and he didn't want to miss Christmas breakfast with their little ones.

"I promise you I'm back in 2 hours" he kissed him again and saw his husband's calm smile as he nodded. "I know." he whispered as he burried his head back in the cushion. Soon enough their little whirlwinds would wake up and the peace was on the past.

He was just about to leave, already changed and the car keys in the pocket when Marc added "Tell him I said hi, will you? Tell him we miss him."

He felt a sadness pool in his stomach. All this time, every time he had made up a dumb excuse why he had to leave for a few hours weren’t needed. Of course he knew. And he had been respectful about it and didn't ask.

He smiled at him. It had been the perfect response. "I will"

And now he sat opposite him again.

"So... Hi from Marc. They miss you" he said and leaned back. "I miss you too..." he started to feel sad but right now he dint wasn't to be sad.

He quickly changed the subject. "Especially cause you'd have a field day with the way I stress out over the races at the moment" he chuckled.

"Seriously. My dear, sweet husband - Don't get me wrong. I am overjoyed that he's doing better and he's feeling happy on the bikes again. Finally he got that spark back, you know what I mean - and oh, we fuck like rabbits again. The boys already judge me for asking them to babysit that often.

He remembered Luca's and Pecco's looks after asking if they would like some uncles - nieces bonding time after Marc won his first race in years.

"But he's back to riding like - well almost like he used to. I can't imagine he'll be more careful next year. For the record I am not complaining! I am 100% supporting him. It's just - he'll be on a factory Ducati so I feel like I'm going to be gray a lot sooner than I thought"

He was almost as happy as he was concerned about him on a Ducati. But he could finally fight a title and he wouldn't be the one stopping him.

"I just feel sorry for Pecco. Bet he's going to complain to me the whole year. 10€!" He knew the other would accept that bet. He grinned.

"But at least I have an argument against Marc now. Okay, to his credit, he's more... I wouldn't say more careful on track but he's less stupid. Yes, that's it. Our little princess really keep him grounded. You should see him. He comes home and is immediately hugging and cuddling them"

He grinned, remembering how his little girls had tried to stay awake until their papa returned. Just when he had heard the car pull up, he had softly woken them up.

He had let them go first and just after seconds, the bags abandoned in the car, Marc had both his arms full with their little girls. He had kissed and hugged them and kissed them some more.

Vale ended up talking a lot about his little family and their adventures since his last visit. Then he went on about his other children.

"Ah and Franky - you wouldn't believe it. He finally got his shit together and asked Andrea out. Took him only 13 years or so of pinning. I bet that's a new record" he laughed.

"And now Marc is working on getting Cele and Bez together. I promise you, he should have been a dating coach."

He let time pass. The conversation was flowing. He talked about everything he could think off until there was nothing left. He didn't had anything else sitting on his soul.

That might be the worst and best moment of the whole visit. He knew there was nothing left to say. He didn't feel guilty about leaving. On the contrary, he felt lighter, more free. He was happy to see his family and spent Christmas together.

"I guess, it's time" he said, standing up. "Take care, will you? Be kind. Promise me, you're not causing too much of a chaos, amiche. Maybe a little. A little is needed but don't overdue it."

He laughed about his own words. "Do you hear that? I'm really getting old. But anyway..."

He leaned down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. But his lips didn't met skin. He didn't even met the thick curls they used to touch. He felt the cold stone against his lips.

"I miss you, my friend. Really. Terribly. But I'll take my time to meet you again properly. But when I do meet you again and you give me a big hug, I'll have thousand of stories to tell you."

Looking at the stone infront of him for one last time. He knew he would be here again in a week to whish him a happy new year.

"And sent Nicky my greeting too, alright?" he said. "Merry christmas Marco "

He smiled at the stone, imagining it wasn't just his name and the letters and numbers that used to hunt him in his sleep but the man himself standing infront of him before he drove him for Christmas.

Marco Simoncelli

20.01.1987 - 23.10.2011

[wilhelminyard]

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much - except aaron - (part 3) :

ANDREW :

"I said I would keep you alive this year. you make it infinitely more difficult for me when you actively try to get yourself killed."

"the next time someone comes from you, stand down and let me deal with it. do you understand?"

"you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs" "I'm not a hallucination" "you are a pipe dream."

"what would you give me?" "don't ask questions you already know the answer to"

"this isn't yes. this is a nervous breakdown. I know the difference even if you don't. I won't be like them. I won't let you let me be."

"I've never understood why he likes knives" "he will lose his taste when he has one in his gut"

"kevin is a fool whose style is numbers and angles. formulas and statistics, trial and error, repetition and insanity. all he cares about is finding the perfect game. a junkie like you can't be that cold."

"last summer you made me a promise. I'm asking you to break it." "no." "you said you'd stick with me if I kept kevin south, but kevin doesn't need me anymore. he chose us over the ravens because as a whole we're finally worth his time. there's nothing else I can give you in exchange for your protection." "I will think of something."

"spring break's coming. we could go someplace" "where and why?" "anywhere. anywhere at least three hours from campus. there's no point in going someplace closer than that. it won't feel like a vacation. the only trick is figuring out how to pry kevin away from the court" "I have knives"

"no one's said a word to them since they said we couldn't see you"

"if you tell me to leave I'll go" "you aren't going anywhere"

"I have to go. I don't trust them to give you back."

"ready?" "waiting on you"

"can I really be neil again?" "I told neil to stay. leave nathaniel buried in baltimore with his father."

"andrew could break our deal and let me go or break things off with neil" "he chose neil over you?"

"your close calls are getting old. I thought you knew how to run" "I thought you told me to stop running" "survival tip: no one likes a smart mouth" "except you"

WYMACK :

"I can't believe you trusted david to patch you up" "I was careful with him"

"you're a hundred times better now than you were in may. don't sell yourself short."

"go easy for a few days, would you?"

"are you okay?"

"neil asked us to leave the authorities out of this. I respect him enough to allow that"

"didn't I tell you not to worry about it?"

"I'm making you vice-captain next year"

"didn't you notice? they're uniting around and behind you. that's something special. you're something special."

"look me in the eye and tell me if you think I care who you used to be. hm? I care about who you are right now and who you can be going forward. I'm not asking you to forget your past, but I am telling you to overcome it."

"neil. talk to me. what do you want?"

"giving up on neil now goes against everything we are."

"I'm sorry. I should've told you but I couldn't" "don't worry about that right now."

"we'll wait for you, all right? as long as it takes, neil"

"I should be thanking you. you told us last night you intended to end the year dead or in federal custody. you could have shut everyone and everything out and worried about yourself this year. instead you agreed to help dan fix this team. you're saving the two I thought we couldn't reach, and you're a living example for kevin to follow. he never used to watch you but he's had eyes on you since december trying to figure out how you stand your ground."

"they told me to call them as soon as you returned. have you returned?"

"neil is a critical member of my team. you can ask any person on my line-up and they will all agree : we would not be where we are today if he wasn't here with us."

MATT :

"I want to break his face in six places. if he ever comes within a thousand yards of you again-"

"you okay?" "I'm fine" "for the record, I don't believe you"

"neil? we're here when you want to talk about it"

"neil? you good?"

"we're all legal adults here. we've made our decision. unless he wants to stay with you, you'd better bring neil back to us when you're done with all your questions

"hey, coach made us promise to leave you alone but are you okay?"

"they will get rid of me" "you're not serious"

"things could have gone much worse. I'm glad they didn't. you want anything, you need anything, you let us know. okay?" "okay" "I mean it" "I know. I'm done lying to you, matt. I promise."

"did andrew really choke kevin?" "took three of us to pull him off"

"we can't replace you"

DAN :

"neil? if you want to talk about any of it, or anything, or... you know we're here for you, right? whatever you need."

"kevin knew about this didn't he? he knew what riko was going to do to you and he let you go anyway. the next time I see him-"

"don't do this to us. don't sit here and lie to our faces. we're your friends. we deserve better than that."

"you told the truth. it's not your fault they don't like it."

"are you sure you're okay, neil?"

"go. but come back to us as soon as they're done with you, okay? we'll figure this out as a team."

"you're not playing. you think coach will let you on the court when you look like that? I'll sub in for you, neil. renee can help allison out one more time, right? trust us to hold the line. you focus on healing so we can use you in semifinals."

KEVIN :

"kevin called me yesterday morning when he couldn't get a hold of you. he wanted to make sure you were okay."

NICKY :

"don't you dare tell me you're fine. I can't hear that from you today, okay?"

"you can't have neil. he belongs with us"

"neil isn't a real person. it's just a cover that let nathaniel evade authorities. it's past time to let him go." "neil or nathaniel or whoever. he's ours, and we're not letting him go. you want us to vote on it or something? bet you it'll be unanimous."

"don't worry. andrew will protect you."

"hey, you good?"

ALLISON :

"it would have neen better if you'd come to the store with us. it doesn't matter. I bought out the entire row."

"I'm sorry" "shut up. no you're not. you're not. have you forgotten who has to paint you back together every morning? if you'd let them steamroll you yesterday after all this I would hate you"

"it is not safe for [neil] here anymore and it sure as hell isn't safe for you. it is better for everyone if he disappears." "what part of 'go to hell' do you need us to explain to you?"

RENEE :

"so those knives he brings everywhere are yours?" "were mine. he was right; I don't need them anymore. if you need them, he will give them to you, and I will teach you how to use them"

"if you want to talk more later, you know where to find me"

"will you be all right here?"

"kevin is very analytical whereas you're passionate."

"what do you need from us, neil?"

"I can do it." "I know you can. but perhaps it's easier if someone helps you."

ABBY :

"sometimes I think this job is going to kill me. seeing what people have done, what people continue to do, to my foxes. I wish I could protect you but I'm always too late. all I can do is patch you up afterward and hope for the best. I'm sorry, neil. we should have been there for you"

"let me take a look at you"

"it's over. it's over. you're going to be okay. we've got you."

"I dropped my gear in new york" "andrew found it while he was looking for you"

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 15: Baggage

“Sorry about your dinner plans.” Rook murmured as Lucanis fell in step beside her. “I can make you dinner any time,” he said with a grin. “Never apologize for ending a meal early to kill Venatori.” “After what they did to you and Spite, to Neve and the Shadow Dragons, to Minrathous…” Rook reached down and squeezed his hand. “I intend to cleanse Tevinter of every single one.” WANT TO WATCH ROOK KILL . AND THEN- Lucanis’ skin heated as she let go of his hand, forging ahead to give directives. He kept a careful distance as Spite ranted and raved in his mind about all the things he could do to Rook, some things he wasn’t even certain he knew how to do…

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Fiamma recalls her final night at Villa Dellamorte, Lucanis uses food to show appreciation while Spite would prefer other methods, Rook does her best to stomach an encounter with the Venatori while rescuing kidnapped Dalish, and Solas becomes suspiciously cooperative.

Word count: 3.8k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! Blood of Arlathan quest. warnings: ritual/innocent animal sacrifice, mild sexually/physically aggressive Illario, horny Spite, yearning (but oblivious) Lucanis, Solas. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

As Fiamma sorted through Caterina’s mail with gloved hands, her fingertips hesitated over an envelope bearing no Crow letterhead or seal. Unfamiliar penmanship scrawled her name in dark ink, and while Viago would immediately suspect an attempted poisoning, she found herself slipping off her gloves, brow furrowing as she deposited the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter.

No one outside of the Crows should have any knowledge of her residence at the villa, yet someone had known to send correspondence here. They’d also known that if her mail went to Viago’s, he’d snoop. All the mail sent to the villa passed through Fiamma first. The sender intended for her to get her hands on it without intervention.

Lucanis had been off for some time. Perhaps he wanted a message to get to his grandmother discreetly? Or perhaps it was a trap laid by her cousin, testing how she was exercising caution these days. With a frown, she slipped a knife from her waistband and sliced underneath the wax seal, anyway. 

Hey kid, You might not remember us little people after single-handedly taking down 20 Antaam, but you left an impression on me I can’t seem to shake. I’m working on looking for an old friend who’s gotten themselves into some pretty deep shit. I could use someone with your skill set and grit to help me find him and, maybe, beat some sense into him. If you’re up for the job, and things aren’t too cushy where you’re at, you can find me every evening for the next ten-day at the Lamplighter in Minrathous. Look for the guy with a loud mouth and a chessboard. -Varric 

Varric. One of the prisoners she freed the night she ruined an entire Crow operation - the very misstep that landed her here at Villa Dellamorte. His proposition wasn’t a new one - he’d made the same offer the night she rescued him, but Viago hauled her off before she could even consider it. Undoubtedly, Varric had powerful allies and discreet surveillance on her. She was unnerved that she hadn’t noticed. Though she found herself somewhat impressed. Intrigued, even.

Fiamma folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket, setting a kettle on the stove as she continued tending to her evening duties. While the water for Caterina’s evening tea boiled, she contemplated Varric’s offer. Viago had sidelined her for three full moons now, with no promise of letting her return home, or to her own contracts anytime soon. In that period, Illario had become more insufferable, more forward, and more tormenting. After Lucanis departed for a prolonged contract last week, Illario had formed a habit of returning home drunk every night, melancholy and distraught, howling belligerently outside her door to be let in. If the villa weren’t so large, and Fiamma’s chambers weren’t in the opposite wing, Caterina would have caned him for making so much noise. It seemed his luck was in his grandmother’s declining hearing. 

She shook her head, preparing a cup of tea and arranging it on a bed tray alongside the rest of Caterina’s mail. Carrying it up the stairs, she wound through long hallways and several bare rooms. Cloth draped so much of the villa’s furniture to protect it from dust that she often felt surrounded by ghosts. In many ways, she was. Caterina had watched her entire family die, save her two remaining grandchildren. What joy was left inside these walls? Why decorate a space better left vacant, much like the unmarked graves near the rose garden? 

The First Talon was in a rocking chair before the fire when Fiamma knocked on her bedroom door. Caterina never could quite sit still. Even at rest, she was restless. Normal people rocked their grandbabies to sleep, but she raised hers to be killers. Good ones at that. The back and forth of her chair was meant to soothe her own worry. 

“Lots of mail today.” Fiamma said, setting the tray on a desk near the balcony. The old woman glanced at her, the glimmer of hope in her eyes betraying her mask of indifference. 

“Anything from Lucanis?”

“Are you expecting word from him? I could send-”

“I’ll handle it.” Caterina waved, cutting her off. “Leave me.”

Typically, the two would exchange a few teasing comments or Caterina would gloat about Lucanis’ most recent accomplishment (or how Illario had most recently vexed her), but Fiamma knew better than to pry. Caterina was prone to sour moods, and where she came from, dismissal was just as good as praise most of the time. After all, to be noticed often meant death in her line of work.

With a polite dip of her chin, she backed out of the room and closed the door. Absentmindedly, her hand returned to her pocket, brushing against the edge of the folded parchment there. The click of her boots echoed against the marble as she walked down the dimly lit corridor to her room. It would be unconscionable to leave Caterina now. Once Lucanis’ contract in Minrathous was finished, she’d take her leave in the night. But surely he’d return soon. What harm was there in leaving her with Illario for a few days? A lead assassin was more than capable of fending for herself…

She could barely count the steps left to her door when she heard something behind her, turning and preparing for an ambush. A small gasp escaped her as her back hit the wall, Illario’s face coming only a breath from her own. So drunk she could smell the alcohol on his skin, she turned her head to the side and wrinkled her nose. 

“Fiammetta…don’t tell me you’re avoiding me?” Illario slurred, clumsily dragging a hand down her cheek. 

“Go to bed.” She braced her palms on his chest to create distance between them. 

“Not without you.” He took her by the wrists and pressed his mouth sloppily against the corner of her own.  

“You pig!” She shoved him off, spitting and wiping her lips with her sleeve. 

“How long will we do this dance, Fi?” Illario asked in a sultry voice. 

“As long as it takes for you to get it through your head that the kiss before was a thank you, not an oath of my devotion.”

Illario narrowed his eyes. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“Is it so hard to fathom that I just don’t want you?” 

“No, no, come on. Who is it? You and Teia have some secrets that I should know about?” He leaned in closer. “What about my cousin? He’s sweet on you, I can tell.”

“Listen to yourself.” Fiamma sneered. “You just can’t believe I would say no to you unless I was saying yes to someone else.”

Illario stumbled into her, pulling her closer. “Lucanis is inexperienced.” He whispered against the shell of her ear, “You want me, someone who can show you the ropes-” 

Fiamma instinctively reeled back and decked him square in the jaw, her knuckles grazing his bottom teeth. With a hiss of pain, she recoiled, shaking the impact from her fist as he held his chin, opening his mouth wide to check the joint. 

“Maybe I deserved that one.” He mumbled, wiping at his bloodied lip. 

Before the exchange could carry on another moment, Fiamma wrenched the doors of her bedroom open and slammed them shut behind her, turning the lock and sliding her sword through the handles for extra security. 

“I didn’t stand a chance, did I?” Illario asked through the door as his body audibly slumped against it. 

Ignoring him, she pulled a bag from under the bed. When she first arrived, Fiamma never fully unpacked. Her own way of keeping one foot out the door, as De Rivas always did. She swept the room, gathering her remaining belongings and throwing them inside. For good measure, she snatched a couple of offerings from the guest wardrobe. Caterina wouldn’t miss them. Though she might miss her . That wasn’t Fiamma’s problem anymore, though.  

“I’ve done terrible things, Fiammetta…” Illario’s muffled voice cried. “But I had to…”

With a heavy sigh, Fiamma hoisted her pack onto her shoulder, retrieved her sword from the door, and opened her bedroom window. No longer willing to entertain another night of self-pitying theatrics, she launched herself over the ledge, scaling a trellis to the gardens and sneaking through the hidden passage across the courtyard. 

By morning, she’d secured a spot on a ship to Minrathous, to search for a man with a loud mouth and a chessboard. With a brief pang of guilt, she wondered who would bring Caterina her morning coffee. 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Rook found Viago poised over the kitchen counter, precariously refilling his toxin vials. Framed by the glass balcony doors, the setting sun glowed over the city skyline behind him, turning the den a faint orange. Her cousin glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, decanting a clear liquid into an empty container. 

“Your friends tired of hovering by your bedside and returned home.”

Rook took a seat, watching him work. “Teia too?”

“She had work to do at the casino. She left once I assured her you’d live.”

Neither of them spoke for several minutes as Viago corked a glass cylinder and nestled it inside his case with care. He snapped it shut and braced his palms on the counter, staring at the stone surface.

“Go back to your Lighthouse. I’ll keep an eye on Illario and update you when I know more. Once you go through that eluvian of yours, I’m facing it towards the wall.” 

“What if I need you?”

“Lucanis seems more than eager to make you his problem. Let him carry the burden for a little while.”

Rook buried her reaction to his disappointment deep within herself. “What makes you say that?”

“Because he was the last to leave and keeps reappearing through that damned mirror every hour to check in.” Viago stood up straight and took off towards his room without sparing her a second look. 

“Whatever is going on between the two of you, keep it out of my house.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

AMBER. AND HONEY! ROOK. CLOSE .  

Lucanis glanced up just before she opened the kitchen doors. Relief and another potent emotion, something akin to the rush just before an assassination, coursed through his veins. 

“Rook! You’re back.” He breathed, lifting the pasta cooking on the stovetop off the flame and setting it aside to cool. “How are you feeling?”

“Well rested.” She crossed the room as he wiped his hands on his apron, discarding it on a nearby chair. As she joined him near the stove, his eyes met hers, and he forced a smile, feeling a bit dazed. He turned around quickly, twirling a forkful of pasta in the pan and offering her a bite. 

“Come here, try something for me.” 

One brow arched, she held his gaze, lips dragging down the metal prongs as she allowed him to feed her a mouthful. Chewing thoughtfully, she threw her head back with a moan. Lucanis watched her features attentively, assessing what the dish might need based on her reaction.  

OTHER WAYS TO MAKE HER MOAN, LUCANIS. BETTER WAYS.  

He shoveled a forkful of hot pasta into his own mouth, as if he could silence Spite by burning his own tongue. 

“I’m trying something new.” The noodles scalded his throat as he swallowed them whole. “The trick is in the pasta water…” He returned his attention to dinner, dividing it amongst an assortment of plates on the counter. 

“You’re in a surprisingly cheerful mood today.” Rook snuck a fork from the counter and began eating directly out of the pan. 

“I’m cautiously optimistic about Caterina, and I wanted to do something nice for you, show my appreciation for all your help…” He snatched the fork from her grasp. “Save your appetite. There’s a tort in the oven, too.” 

Rook smiled, and the warmth of her brown irises brought out by the light of the fireplace. “Did you do all this for me, Lucanis?”

“There’s plenty to share.” Tension grew in his chest, a sensation of static rising in his throat. “But…I did make it with you in mind.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yes, I did,” He said matter-of-factly, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his eyes. “I still haven’t found a way to apologize for everything, and…”

“I’m the one who owes you an apology, Lucanis.” She said, reaching for his wrists. “I should have listened to you. Should have told you my plans, never should have…”

ROOK. TOUCHING. US. DO IT BACK!  

Lucanis let her tug him closer, blinking in surprise as she flung her arms around his neck. One hand fell to her waist, while the other found her hip.

“You and me? We’re good, Rook.” He said, tearing his attention away from her and returning to the stove, wordlessly plating their meal as Rook set the table. She brushed past him; filling a cup of coffee for each of them before settling into her seat. It was wonderfully domestic, and he welcomed the distraction from the trouble that waited for them in Treviso. It would be hard to trust anyone again, but after his moment with Rook yesterday, he’d unveiled a trust in her he’d never allowed himself to have in anyone.  

The others soon arrived, Bellara and Neve bringing news of kidnapped Dalish, taken by Venatori, for a ritual sacrifice. A pang of disappointment hit Lucanis as he realized their brief respite from the terror of the gods would soon be over…and the tort he’d labored over all afternoon would likely go untouched. 

“The gods will want more power,” Bellara said, picking at her food. “They won’t waste any time getting it.”

A phantom scratch came from behind Lucanis’ eyeballs at the mention of blood magic. 

“Then we strike while they’re weak.” He lowered his fork, looking up from his half-finished plate and holding Rook’s gaze. She set her mouth in a line with a firm nod. 

“He’s right.” She said, pushing up from her seat. The others followed suit, departing in the direction of the eluvian.

“Sorry about your dinner plans.” Rook murmured as Lucanis fell in step beside her.

“I can make you dinner any time,” he said with a grin. “Never apologize for ending a meal early to kill Venatori.”

“After what they did to you and Spite, to Neve and the Shadow Dragons, to Minrathous…” Rook reached down and squeezed his hand. “I intend to cleanse Tevinter of every single one.”

WANT TO WATCH ROOK KILL . AND THEN-

Lucanis’ skin heated as she let go of his hand, forging ahead to give directives. He kept a careful distance as Spite ranted and raved in his mind about all the things he could do to Rook, some things he wasn’t even certain he knew how to do…

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Safer to venture into such a large gathering of Venatori in small groups, Neve, Lucanis, and Rook opted to move in the open, disguised, while the others went through the trees with the Veil Jumpers. 

“This robe stinks of Venatori. It makes my eyeballs itch.” 

Lucanis stood with his arms crossed as he waited for Neve to reach the opposite end of the zip line. White fog seeped up from the deep canyon before them, concealing several roaring waterfalls in the distance. Rook bit her lip as she examined the large gap between them and the opposite bank. 

“If you’re not too uncomfortable…I could use a favor.” 

Lucanis raised an eyebrow as she held up her palms. The injuries she sustained from her escape from the villa were still red and inflamed as she tugged a pair of thick gloves over them with a grimace. 

Lucanis smirked and offered her his back. “Need a lift?”

“You sure you can carry both of us?” She asked with some uncertainty, “I can catch up with the others if…”

Lucanis scoffed. “I can handle you.” 

“Rescued twice in less than a fortnight. I’m a lucky girl.” Rook’s arms encircled his middle, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, hiking her legs up around his waist. “Are you sure about this?”

He stiffened, tightening his grip on the handles. “I’ll keep my reservations to myself until we reach the other side.”

Lucanis kicked off the ground, and they soared over the canyon, Rook’s stomach plummeting as she looked at the drop below. With her arms locked tightly around Lucanis’ chest, she feared he’d suffocate and pass out, sending them both to their deaths amongst the jagged rocks below. Eyes squeezed shut, she became attuned to the scent of his shaving oil lingering on his neck as she buried her face there. The telltale jolt of them hitting the end of the zipline ripped every thought from her mind and she released a held breath, letting her shaking legs detach themselves from around Lucanis. As her boots hit solid ground, she swallowed hard to avoid retching.

“Took you long enough,” Neve said, inclining her head towards the Venatori camp. “Come on.” 

They weaved through a sea of Red Cloaks and excited chatter. Rook caught the sound of her own name a few times, resisting the urge to turn her head towards it. 

“You’re popular.” Neve murmured. 

“Not comforting.” Rook replied. From her peripheral, she watched Lucanis scan the crowd, hands flexing at his sides. 

“They’re going to bleed a Dalish deer!” A nearby Venatori squealed. 

Rook’s throat tightened as she recalled the disposition of the gentle creature she’d encountered with Assan and Davrin. “They’re going after Halla?”

She turned to a platform where the creature was drug forward on a rope, weak and struggling to resist. Could it be the same one from before? 

Lucanis reached out and caught her around the waist as she jolted forward, bringing his lips to her ear. 

“We can’t do anything that will draw attention, Rook.” He warned in a low voice. Tears stung her eyes as she realized he was right. Lucanis discreetly reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. 

“You don’t have to watch this,” Neve said as the Halla bleated in terror, but Rook couldn’t tear her gaze away, no matter how badly she wanted to. She squeezed Lucanis’ hand, fingernails digging into his skin unintentionally. When she noticed and tried to relax her grip, his only tightened. Face set in a facade of indifference, fury simmered beneath his features. 

“They will pay, one way or another.” 

The Halla exploded into a mess of blood and carrion and she stifled a gasp, turning into Lucanis’ shoulder. She’d seen all she needed to, and not a second more. 

“Are you alright?” Lucanis asked softly. 

“This whole place makes my skin crawl.” She said through gritted teeth, releasing his hand with some difficulty and storming through the Venatori camp.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“The Dalish prisoners…they escaped safely?”

Covered in blood and dirt after the events at the Venatori camp, Rook stood across Solas in their usual meeting spot, each on one side of an enormous expanse in the Fade. His prison.

“For now.”

They’d barely been successful. Elgar’nan had shown up with an unexpected archdemon, and soon detected their presence, bringing to light his alliances with both the Venatori and the Antaam. If not for Solas’ intervention, they, nor the Dalish, would have made it out alive.

“Whatever my frustration with them, it feels good to have helped my people again. Thank you for allowing me to. The chance to infuriate Elgar’nan was a reminder of simpler times.” Solas spoke more warmly than she was used to. It felt like a change she shouldn’t trust. 

“We share a set of similar goals, but our endgame is not the same.” Rook said, folding her arms over her chest, “And I still haven’t forgiven you for hurting Varric.”

“Varric…” Solas echoed, regret weighing on his features. “How is he?”

“Out of commission, for now. His recovery is slow, thanks to you, but his condition seems to be….improving.” Rook said, worry gnawing at her gut. 

“And you? I can’t help but notice you bear some injuries of your own.” Solas nodded at the contusion on her temple and where her wounds had reopened on her palms. She’d had no choice but to draw her weapons and fight, undoubtedly prolonging her healing time. 

“I’ll be fine.” She muttered, pulling her gloves from out of her pockets and slipping them on, careful to keep a straight face. Solas wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her suffer today. 

“You lead your allies well, Rook. When we first met, I saw you only as a foolish child who disrupted my plans. You were…an irritant.” He said, crossing his arms behind his back. “I expected you to be nothing more than a tool, but you’ve proven me wrong at every turn. Perhaps Varric was not misguided, placing his faith in you.”

“You’d do well not to underestimate me.” Rook said, “Most come to regret it…given they survive long enough.” 

“Spoken like someone who kills for a living.”

“Let’s not pretend my death toll is anywhere close to yours.” Rook growled. 

Solas hummed in acknowledgement, uncrossing his arms and beginning to pace. 

“Your team trusts you, and you listen to them. It is impressive…and enviable. You work together with a camaraderie that took me centuries to build in my rebellion.”

“I care about them. I don’t use them as…how did you put it… tools?”

“I caution you not to allow feelings to distract you from your goal. What little time you have left, you should make certain you, and the team that trusts you, are ready for whatever comes. This might be your last chance. Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are preparing their ritual to pierce the Veil during the next eclipse, as Elgar’nan’s power is tied to light and darkness.”

“My allies will be ready.” Rook said, walking through dust and rubble towards the other end of the Fade’s nothingness. Anything to be further from Solas. 

“Are you?” He called after her. “I know that you will do everything in your power not to fail them , but what are you doing to ensure you will not fail yourself ? I have gleaned insight into some of your baggage, the complicated feelings you carry for fellow Crows, including the one on your own team. Have you grappled with your own shame? The regrets that haunt you in your sleep?”

“The Lighthouse is a shrine to your regret, Solas.” Rook said over her shoulder as the world around them faded to white. “Keep your words of wisdom and try heeding them yourself.”

[vindicated-truth]

Sometimes I wonder what made Dongsik finally surrender to Joowon.

What made Dongsik finally ask Joowon to arrest him.

Part of it was him fulfilling that promise to Joowon—the promise that as soon as Dongsik finds Yuyeon, Joowon can handcuff Dongsik himself.

Finally working as the partners they were meant to be, they both took it a step further than just finding Yuyeon—because together, they worked to find Yuyeon's killer.

And after twenty-one years, they finally arrested him together. Yuyeon's killer—was Han Joowon's father.

Sometimes I wonder what Dongsik had been thinking when Joowon bowed before him—this young man Dongsik once mistakenly thought of as a cold prince not even attempting to hold back his tears as he vowed to quit the police force, bearing upon himself the sins of his own family.

Part of it was because Yuyeon had finally been found, part of it was because her killer had finally been brought to justice. But I wonder how much of it was Dongsik looking at Joowon and seeing how much he had been failed by his own family—

And Dongsik vowing that he won't be the same.

Because Dongsik now knows Joowon holds everyone accountable, without exception. Joowon holds his own father accountable for Yuyeon's death—but more than that, Joowon holds himself accountable for Lee Geumhwa's death.

Dongsik now knows how Joowon's own father has tried to evade justice and escape accountability for twenty-one years. How Joowon's own father commited the heinous and unforgivable crime of murdering Yuyeon—and how he has been the biggest disappointment to Joowon as his father.

So I wonder, when Dongsik willingly held out his own wrists to an utterly shocked Joowon for Joowon to clasp handcuffs in—for Joowon to arrest him for the crime of tampering with Kang Minjeong's fingers and abandoning Kang Minjeong's body—

I wonder how much of it was also Dongsik wordlessly vowing in return:

"I will not be like your father."

[clown-friend-gt]

Fantasy AU Part 1

It's been a while since I've posted any writing, so I wanted to change that! Here's the first part of my fantasy AU of Heroisms. I talked about the basic premise of this story here.

In this part, Trevor and Addie are younger than they are in the main story around 12/13. There's also a lot of focus on Addie getting ready in the beginning, but I thought it was a nice way to highlight some aspects of the setting. Also, it's my story, so I get to decide what details get included, so if you don't care about what people in a psuedo-historical fairy tale setting eat and wear, too bad! (or just skip it, you do you)

As for the main story, I am still working on it! The next chapter is actually almost done, but I'm thinking of waiting until I get the next few chapters done until I start posting that one again, since I have some time off from work right now. It's coming fairly soon, I promise. Until now, enjoy this AU!

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Once Upon a Tower

5.7k words

Princess Adelaide woke up for the first time in her new room. She was surrounded by cloud-soft bedding. Gentle sunlight shone through the windows to warm her face. Just beyond, she could the chorus of birdsongs. All in all, it was a rather lovely place to be held captive.

She sat up and stretched her arms above her head to try and chase off some of her sleepiness. Despite herself, she began to yawn. She quickly placed a hand in front of her face to stifle it. Even if no one was around to see her, she had to remember to keep up appearances. If she was ever to earn her way out of here, she’d have to carefully maintain her regal sense of poise.

She stepped onto the plain wooden floors with her bare feet. Despite the warm sunlight, the floor was still a bit chilly. A shiver ran up her spine. She waited for it to pass before making her way over to the room’s only window.

       

The bars on the window were the only indication of her imprisonment. It wasn’t as if they were necessary; she’d be sent plummeting to her death if she tried to escape through this window. They only served as a cruel reminder. No matter how nice the room behind them was, the iron bars proved that it was nothing but a gilded cage for her.

       

Adelaide felt her eyes begin to sting and tore her eyes from the window. She couldn’t get upset, now. Her curse always started acting up when she let herself get emotional. Even now she could feel that strange feeling of weightlessness bubbling up within her. A gentle but powerful urge tugging her away from the ground.

       

She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She hadn’t noticed herself beginning to float, but now she felt her feet gently return to the ground. She felt oddly heavy after, just like she always did once the magic left her body.

       

Today will be a normal day, just like any other, she told herself, turning away and leaving the window behind.

************************************************************************

Out of all of the troubles she’d imagined would come from being locked away in a tower, Princess Adelaide never thought that making breakfast would be one of them. It had never occurred to her just how reliant she was on the palace staff for little things like this. But now that she was on her own, she was utterly lost.

       

Finding food was no trouble, of course. Her family had made sure that she would always be provided for while she stayed here, and the cupboards full of food clearly demonstrated that. The trouble was, she had no idea how to prepare any of it.

       

She had decided on a simple breakfast of bread and jam. She figured even she could manage something as straightforward as that. She found a plate, a napkin, and her utensils easily enough. Then she had to slice the bread.

Logically, she knew the nice, neat slices of bread she’d had served to her before had to come from somewhere, but she found herself slightly unsure of how to proceed when presented with a loaf of bread. Was she just supposed to tear it apart with her hands? Surely that couldn’t be right.

She searched her little kitchenette for something to cut it with. In one of the drawers, she found a few knives. She selected the sharpest one, assuming it would be best for this job. She carefully held the handle in both hands and began to cut the bread.

       

It took her a couple of tries to find purchase. Instead of biting into it like she’d imagined it would, the knife started smooshing the bread, flattening the top. She frowned to herself as she pushed harder, and the knife finally cut into the bread.

       

Once she’d managed to slice the bread all the way through, she held it up to admire her handiwork. The slice was misshapen, and much thicker than she preferred. It would have to do. She set it aside on her plate and got to work on the next one.

       

Her second try didn’t fare much better than her first. The only difference was this time, the slice of bread was much too thin. She set the knife down, looking between her pitiful slices and the loaf of bread. Maybe she should throw these out and just try again?

       

She shook her head. No, this was the start of a new life for her. She couldn’t live her life as frivolously as she had in the palace. She had to fend for herself, and that meant that she couldn’t waste precious resources.

       

Now it was time to select a jam. She had plenty to choose from. Apple jam, cherry jam, even grape jam. She eventually decided on a jar of blueberry jam. It was her favorite, after all.

       

She held the clay jar in one hand and began to pry out the large cork with the other. But the cork was wedged tighter in the jar than she had expected. She dug her fingers into the cork and pulled with all her might. With no small amount of effort on her part, the cork came loose from the jar with a pop!

       

As luck would have it, though, the jar slipped from her hands the moment the cork was freed. It fell onto the floor and shattered, spreading its contents all over. Addie glared at the globs of jam.

She ignored the way her mouth watered as she stared at the mess. She may have been living a rougher life now, but she would not be eating off of the floor. She was still royalty, after all. But it was disappointing. Blueberry jam only came around in the late summer, and that was months away.

       

Addie sat down to eat her breakfast of bread and no jam. She chewed it lazily; it was good quality bread, but it made for far too dull of a meal on its own. Occasionally, her eyes would drift over to the jam covered floor, her temptation only increasing as time went on. But her sense of discipline prevailed.

       

After breakfast, she went back to her mess on the floor. She carefully picked the ceramic pieces from the jam. Then she stared longingly at her fingers coated in that sweet berry-flavored substance.

       

Just one lick wouldn’t hurt.

       

After her meal of boring bread, the sensation of blueberries practically danced upon her tongue. So tasty. So tragic.

       

With a heavy sigh, she reluctantly cleaned the rest of the jam off of the floor with the cloth napkin she’d set aside for herself. She cleaned as much off as she could, but there was still a bit of sticky residue left on the floor. And the napkin was utterly soiled. She’d have to throw it away.

       

Then she went to the bedside table where there was a mirror, a pitcher of water, and a bowl. She poured the water into the bowl so she could perform her morning ablutions. She wet her face with water, then patted it dry with a towel. She also swished a little water around in her mouth, then spat it back into the bowl. Then she set it aside to empty out later.

       

She examined herself in the mirror. She’d had her hair braided for her before she left, so her natural hair would be protected for at least a month. She frowned at the few pimples that dotted her dark brown skin. They’d started showing up a few months ago, around the same time as her curse. Their unsightly appearance was an ugly reminder of the reason she was trapped.

       

She stared deeply into her amber-colored eyes. Was it just her imagination, or did they hold a little less luster than they used to, before she was locked away? She closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to chase those thoughts from her mind.

       

Now, it was time for her to dress herself. Yet another thing she’d never done on her own. But she’d seen her maids do it hundreds of times. Maybe she could pull it off by herself after all.

       

She exchanged her nightgown for a white chemise. That was easy enough. Then she pulled on her stockings, bending over in an undignified manner to do so, and tied her garters on to secure them. After that, she pulled on a pair of drawers under her shift.

       

Then she went back to her wardrobe to select a pair of shoes. She chose a simple blue pair of slippers.

       

Cautiously, she selected a pair of jumps from her wardrobe. These were less structured than the stays she wore for formal occasions. They also laced from the front, although Adelaide rarely did so herself. She pulled them on over her head and pulled the laces tight.

       

She paused before tying them. No one was around, right? She could maybe afford to leave them a little loose. She didn’t have the smallest figure by any means, and her maids tended to lace her undergarments tight to make up for that fact. Now that she had to dress herself, she got to make that choice for herself, and she chose to loosen her jumps a bit before tying them in place.

       

She chose two petticoats to wear beneath her skirt. It was sunny out, but still a little chilly in the stone tower. Two petticoats would hopefully provide her with a bit of warmth. She pulled them on, and, after fiddling around in front of the mirror for a few minutes, managed to secure the ties in place.

       

Finally, she was ready to choose her outerwear. She wanted to keep things fairly simple, but her clothing was rather limited in that regard. She eventually found an unembellished skirt of blue silk, as well as a white waistcoat with bluebirds embroidered onto it. Perfect for spring.

       

To finish it all off, she tied a pale-yellow sash around her waist. She examined herself in the mirror, and decided she didn’t look too unkempt. Not bad for her first time dressing herself.

       

Now that she’d finally finished feeding and clothing herself, all Adelaide had to do was to find something to occupy her time. That sounded easy enough, but it was the part she had been worried about. All that time couped up with no one around for miles sounded absolutely dreadful. Like the stuff of nightmares.

       

She approached the bookshelf that rested against one of the walls. She examined the titles that lay within, weighing her options. The books rattled in place, distracting her from her search. She examined the bookcase, but it seemed stable. Then it happened again, and with a start she realized that it wasn’t just the books; the floor beneath her was shaking. Every few seconds, a tremor vibrated the whole tower.

Was it an earthquake? She’d read about them in books but had never experienced one herself. There hadn’t been one in the kingdom in decades. Her family had been promised this tower was the safest place in the world for her to stay. Had they been lied to?

The light from the window dimmed momentarily. Something blocked out the sun. She rushed over to see what was the matter. Her blood ran cold as she spotted the gigantic figure in the distance. Then the realization hit her like a slap to the face. It wasn’t an earthquake she was feeling.

       

It was that thing’s footsteps.

************************************************************************

It was spring in Trevor’s forest again. He could feel the warmth of the earth in his roots and the light of the sun on his leaves. Most of all, he could feel the urging of his kin through his connection to them. It was time for him to wake up.

       

His trunk shifted back into the shape of a human body. His branches twisted back into his arms. His roots receded into what became the soles of his feet. Finally, the knots on his bark reformed into a human face. His face.

       

Regaining human form was always a bit of an adjustment. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to get used to having his sight back. For a few moments, the early morning sunlight was blinding, and all of the vibrant colors of the forest were dizzying. He took a few uneasy steps forward, trying to regain his sense of balance.

       

The clothes he’d been wearing before he went into hibernation had reappeared on his body. He looked down at the plain white shirt he wore, rubbing the fabric between his fingers and admiring the craftsmanship. He wore long brown pants on his legs and simple shoes on his feet.

       

The clothes were a gift from his magus friend, Wren. They were enchanted to appear whenever he took human form and disappear whenever he turned back into a tree. He’d worn them since he was a child, and they grew along with him. He didn’t quite understand how it worked; Wren’s magic was so different from his own.

       

Wren had always been a good friend to him. He’d known them for almost as long as he could remember. In addition to gifting him the clothes he wore, they’d also taught him to speak what they called “the common tongue.” Of course, he’d never had the chance to speak it with anyone but Wren.

       

He made a mental note to visit them the first chance he got. But first, he had a number of duties to attend to. He was the guardian of this forest, and ever since he was a young sapling his kin had taught him the importance of his role.

       

He’d start by patrolling the forest. That was the easiest way to check on all of the flora and fauna that called his forest home. He’d visit everyone and ask them how they’d fared through the winter. The elders always emphasized that “attachment is a risk to the balance you keep.” But he’d come to care for many of the living things in his forest, and it was hard not to think of some of them as his friends, too.

       

He set out on his journey, keeping his steps light. Most of the forest was used to his presence by now, but he still did his best to be careful. He was as tall as the tallest trees in this forest now, and if he wasn’t mindful of how he carried himself it could spell disaster for his environment.

       

He hummed a song as he walked along, weaving a spell as he went. It was one of the first things the elders had taught him. While he carried this tune, he could walk on the ground without shaking it and pass through the trees without knocking them aside.

       

Birds flitted through the trees as he passed. He kept a silent tally of each as they flew alongside him, making sure that most had returned from their migrations. Occasionally he’d stop to commune with them. They didn’t share words like he and Wren would, but they communicated in songs instead. Through the music they exchanged, he caught glimpses of images, sensations, and feelings.

       

He held out a finger and let a few robins land upon it. He smiled as they regaled him with tales of their migration. Through their song, he saw places he’d never been, the warm islands far to the south. He’d never get the chance to leave the forest, so he enjoyed hearing about their travels instead.

       

He gave them a small wave as they flew away. It was a gesture Wren had taught him. It had little meaning to the birds, but he still liked to use it.

       

He continued making his rounds. He visited the lake and made sure it had thawed completely. He checked on some of the newer saplings to make sure they were getting enough light. Bit by bit, he made sure everything in the forest was as it should be.

       

About halfway through his trek, he felt something tugging at his pantleg. He looked down to see what it was, only to see a red squirrel scampering its way up his leg. He bent over and offered it his hand to climb into. It leaped on, and he stood up again, raising his hand in front of his face.

       

Through distressed chitters, it informed him of the large number of humans that had spent most of the winter traipsing through the woods. It bemoaned the fact that it’d been unable to dig up the acorns it distinctly remembered it had buried near the old ruins due to their presence.

Trevor nodded along, choosing not to remind the squirrel that its memory was far from perfect. In fact, many of the trees in this forest likely sprouted from seeds buried and subsequently forgotten by squirrels just like this one.

       

After assuring the squirrel he’d look into the issue, he placed it onto a nearby branch, letting it scurry away.

       

Humans. Trevor never knew what to think of them. His kin had mixed opinions on them; some were perfectly content to live alongside them, while others swore that they were nothing but a danger to the delicate ecosystems they protected. He had never even met a human, much less had time to form much of an opinion about them.

       

Humans tended to avoid him, for the most part. That is, when they even noticed he was there. It was a shame, really. As far as he knew, he was the only one amongst his kin who spoke their language. Perhaps if he could talk to them, they could figure out a way to coexist peacefully.

       

As he got close to the clearing that housed the ruins the squirrel had mentioned in its story, he dropped the spell that let him travel lightly. It always gave him a little pang of sadness in his heart when he came by here. The forest had yet to recover from when this spot was clearcut so many years ago. Save for the grass that grew from the ground and the small trees that dotted the makeshift plain, this area was completely uninhabited.

       

It wasn’t a huge clearing, at least. It was roughly a circle, a little longer across than he was tall. In the middle stood a strange pile of stones, stacked nearly as tall as he was. Wren called it a “tower.” Many of the stones towards the bottom were covered in moss, and a creeping ivy clung to one side. It was built and then abandoned by humans a long time before he’d sprouted.

       

He’d seen it plenty of times before, but he’d never had a reason to approach it until now. He had to wonder what its purpose might’ve been. Was it some kind of dwelling? It didn’t look much like the homes he’d seen humans inhabiting before, in the village that sat closest to his forest. And why had the humans visited it while he was asleep?

       

It did have one of those pointy things on top like a human’s den had. A “roof,” Wren had called it. They’d told him they were made out of straw, or something they called “shingles.” It didn’t look like straw to him, more like small black squares layered on top of each other.

       

The glint of an object on top of the roof caught his eye. It was a metal ornament the likes of which he’d never seen, hammered into the shape of a rooster. It creaked forlornly as the wind pushed it this way and that. He watched on in delight as it reluctantly turned in the direction of the shifting breeze. It was like the metal bird was dancing, beckoning him closer.

       

Unable to restrain his curiosity, he reached out and touched it, stopping it in place. Then he carefully set it to spinning again with the tip of his finger. He smiled as he watched it spin. While it spun, he pinched the thin bar that it sat upon, trying to understand how the thing worked. But he misjudged how delicate it would be, and it snapped off the tip of the roof. He examined it for a moment, before slipping it into his shirt pocket. Hopefully no one would miss it.

       

Now that he was closer to the tower, he saw that the top had openings on one of its sides. He leaned down and put his eye to the opening on the front. He looked around as best as he could, but he couldn’t see much. The opening was blocked by a pair of large metal bars.

       

He was incredibly curious about what was inside. He looked around to see if anyone was watching, and, when it seemed he was alone, he wedged the tip of one of his fingers through the bars. The metal burned him slightly; the bars must’ve been made of iron. He flinched, but didn’t pull away. If he could quickly pry them off, he’d be able to see inside without burning himself too badly.

       

The elders often warned him to be mindful of his strength. But again he misjudged the durability of the construction, and he ended up prying away part of the wall along with the bars. He winced as he dropped it, feeling sorry for damaging it.

       

At least he could get a better look inside now. He leaned in and looked around eagerly. The room inside was filled with many objects seemingly made by humans. He considered taking some to show to Wren, who could explain their purposes to him.

       

Then he heard something inhale sharply, and his eye darted over to look at the source of the noise. From underneath a larger object draped in fabric, a small set of widened eyes stared at him. His own eyes widened in response as he bit back a yelp. It seemed he had been wrong.

       

The tower was far from abandoned.

************************************************************************

As soon as she spotted the giant, Adelaide quickly ducked below the windowsill. It hadn’t seemed to notice her yet, and she planned to keep it that way. Her eyes scanned the room for somewhere to hide.

       

The entrance to the tower was locked, so running wasn’t an option. But even if she could, where would she go? She didn’t know this forest, and even if she did, there was no way she was outrunning that thing.

       

Another tremor shook the tower and she silently cursed whoever had thought to keep her here. A giant. Really? You think I’d be safe here with a giant nearby?!

       

On a childish whim, she darted beneath her bed. Internally, she heard the voice of her etiquette teacher scolding her.

       

“Princesses do not hide under beds,” the voice said, high and slightly nasally.

       

Who cares about propriety? I’m trying to hide from a monster here! She shot back at the voice, in her head of course.

       

The room shook again, and her nerves were electrified. She felt the telltale feeling of her curse firing up inside of her.

       

Not now, please, not now, she pleaded silently.

       

Instead of floating off of the ground herself, she spotted objects around the room beginning to float instead. Bottles of perfume lifted themselves off her vanity, and the books began flying off of the shelves, hanging in midair.

       

This happened sometimes when she was especially distraught. Instead of her curse affecting her, it’d affect her surroundings, and small objects would hover around her of their own accord. She glared silently upwards, powerless to do anything to stop it.

       

She heard the giant shifting around outside. Looking up at the window, she saw a large chestnut-colored eye gazing inside. She froze, her heart hammering in her throat. She prayed silently that it wouldn’t see her.

       

It seemed like someone was listening, because the eye went away from the window. She let out a sigh of relief, only a moment too soon. The giant forced its finger through the bars of the window and hooked the tip around them. Then it pulled, wrenching the window, and part of the wall, away from the room entirely.

       

It looked into the room again, and this time, she saw more of its face. Its features were much like a normal human’s, although much, much larger. Instead of skin, its face was covered in a treelike bark. It had a knot under its left eye, like a mole. She’d heard tales of the giant guardians of nature who watched over the uncivilized world, but she’d never dreamed of coming face to face with one.

       

What struck her was how young the thing looked. If it wasn’t for its size and the strangeness of its appearance, she might’ve thought it was a boy her age. Her breath caught in her throat.

       

The thing’s eye shot over to where she was hiding, dialing in on her. Its eye widened in shock, and it retreated away from the wall. There was a large *CRASH* as it seemingly fell backwards, causing the tower to shake like never before. A single stone brick fell from the hole the giant had created, smashing on the floor below. Just when she thought the humongous creature’s fall would cause the tower to collapse, the shaking stopped.

       

She heard the creature grunted at her in its bizarre guttural language. The sound was somewhere between a cow lowing and a person speaking. Then it startled her by speaking in words she could understand.

       

“—Sorry! I’m so sorry!”Its voice echoed around her. Despite its volume, its voice sounded young, like that of a teenage boy.

       

“I didn’t know someone lived here,” he continued. “I’m sorry about you’re—ah, wall.”

       

She was speechless as he stood up and brushed himself off. Unlike the stories she’d been told, this giant not only spoke her language, but wore clothes much like that of a commoner. Where he’d gotten enough material to make clothes that fit him, she had no idea.

       

“I am called Trevor,” he said, running a hand through his leaflike hair. His voice had a strange accent to it that she couldn’t place.

       

He began to speak very quickly, like he was in a rush to get all of his words out. “I’m sorry if I scared you, like I said, I didn’t know anyone was living here. There aren’t really any humans who live in these woods. You’re the first one I’ve met! What is your name?”

He looked at her expectantly.

       

What was she supposed to do? Everything in her screamed for her to run, but she stayed stuck in place. Sure, he acted friendly enough, but that could be some kind of trick to get her to drop her guard, to lure her out of hiding.

       

He tilted his head at her as she stayed silent. “Do you speak?”

       

She opened and closed her mouth, floundering. He seemed to notice she was in some kind of distress.

       

“Are you stuck? Here, let me help.” He began reaching towards her with a single, enormous hand, with fingers that were nearly as long as she was tall. That knocked her out of her stupor.

       

“No, no, no! I’m fine,” she stammered, squeezing herself out from under the bed. His hand stopped in place, then retreated as she stood up.

       

He smiled at her again. His bright white teeth stood in stark contrast to the bark-like skin that covered his face.

       

“So you can talk! That’s good, I was worried you couldn’t. That’d be a disappointment; the first human I ever get to speak to can’t talk themselves. It’s a good thing you can!”

       

“Y-yes,” she said, swallowing dryly.

       

“You never told me your name,” he reminded her.

       

“O-oh,” she stuttered, before clearing her throat and standing up straight. If there was one thing she’d been trained to do so well she could do it in her sleep, it was introducing herself.

       

“I am Adelaide Luanda Johannesburg, First Princess of Johannesburg, Heiress to the Pearlescent Throne and Descendent of Harmonia’s Grace.” She paused briefly, trying to gauge how deeply to curtsy. She eventually decided to curtsy deeply as a sign of respect, hoping that would keep him happy.

       

“Wow, that’s, uh,” he hesitated. “That’s a lot of names.”

       

She cursed herself silently. She shouldn’t have used all of her titles, that would only confuse him.

       

“You may call me Adelaide,” she granted him.

Calling her by her first name was a special privilege, not to be given out lightly. Only her mother and her brothers called her by that name. But as far as she was concerned, this was a matter of survival, and keeping the giant happy and peaceful was more important than her honor.

       

“Ade—Ada-luh—luh—” He still seemed to be struggling with her name.

       

“Just Addie, then,” she said quickly. It was what her youngest brother used to call her, before he’d learned to speak properly.

       

“Addie. Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she replied automatically.

Trevor’s eyes drifted around the room she stood in. She followed his gaze, spotting all of the knick-knacks floating around her room. Suddenly, she felt strangely embarrassed, like he’d caught her with something she shouldn’t have.

If he noticed something was amiss, he didn’t mention it.

“What are you doing in my woods?” he asked instead.

Adelaide’s heart rose into her throat. His tone was light, but his question was disarming. Did he think she was invading his territory? She’d heard stories about giants who would grow violent if they felt their domain was under some kind of threat.

She decided to tell him part of her story. If she was lucky, he might pity her instead of becoming aggressive.

“I’m trapped here. This is my prison,” she said, truthfully.

“Your prison?” he asked. “So you don’t live here?”

“Not by choice,” she answered.

“Why don’t you just leave?”

“The door is locked.”

“Why does that matter? I can help you get out, if you’d like.”

Without waiting for an answer, he began to reach for her again. An undignified yelp escaped her lips and her hands flew out in front of her, an instinctive reaction to the sight of that huge hand reaching out to grab her.

“No!”

He froze, a look of hurt briefly passing over his face.

“…I see.”

He retracted his hand sheepishly.

Adelaide felt sorrow for a moment, before that feeling was replaced by confusion. Why did she care if her actions offended him? It wasn’t like he was human.

“Besides—” she spat out, as if to cover for her blunder. “I can’t just leave.”

“Why not?” he asked, with seeming reluctance.

She paused. Adelaide didn’t really want to divulge her troubles to a stranger, and to a giant no less. But what would she say instead?

“Princesses do not tell lies,” came the sing-songy voice of her etiquette teacher in her head again.

Adelaide sighed deeply. “I—I’m cursed.”

Trevor gave her a puzzled look. “Cursed?”

She nodded, then gestured to the many objects that now glided through the air in all directions.

"Can’t you see? All this chaos is because of my curse.”

Trevor followed the path of one of the flying books with his eyes, almost as if he was noticing it for the first time.

“I was wondering about that,” he admitted.

“Well, now you know,” she said, barely hiding the bitterness in her voice.

Turning away, Adelaide began trying to fish things out of the air so she could put them back in their proper place.

“And until I learn how to get it under control, I’m stuck here,” she finished, placing a few books back on their shelves. She half expected them to fly back out, but now that her mood was falling, so too did the chintz around her room start to sink to the ground.

The floor began to tremble lightly again. Apparently, while she’d had her back turned, Trevor had started resting his hand on the side of the tower, near the hole he’d made. He tapped his pointer finger on the floor of her room absently.

“So…you do live here?” he asked.

“For the time being,” she answered carefully, thrown by the odd sensation of the vibrations of his tapping travelling through the floor and up her legs.

His lips curled into a smile. “Then I guess I’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

Startled, she exclaimed, “What?”

His smile widened to a grin. “Watching over every living thing in this forest is my responsibility. Now that you’re staying here, that includes you too.”

Adelaide was stunned. She wasn’t quite sure she wanted him “watching over” her. What exactly would that entail? But it wasn’t as if she had much choice in the matter.

       

At least she wasn’t frozen in terror like she had been before. Not to say that she was entirely unafraid of him now. He was so many times larger than her, and it would’ve been easy for him to do with her as he liked. But if he had any intention of harming her, he’d had plenty of opportunities to do so. Of course, that didn’t guarantee that his intentions with her were pure.

And now that her initial terror was fading, a kind of curiosity was left in its place. Trevor was already so unlike any giant she’d ever heard of. His manner was certainly…intriguing. She had so many questions she could ask him. That is, if she could ever get over her wariness to speak to him.

For now, though, she had to demonstrate her gratitude. She wasn’t yet sure if she was thankful for his offer, but she still had to keep up appearances.

Watching him carefully, she slowly approached the opening in the wall. Trevor hurriedly removed his hand, standing up straight as she came near. She lowered herself into a curtsy again.

“I’m most grateful for your hospitality,” she said, holding the curtsy for a moment before standing up again and forcing herself to look him in the eye, if only for a moment.

Trevor scratched the back of his head. The sound of his leafy hair moving around almost reminded her of the sound of the wind travelling through the trees.

"Wow. You sure use a lot of fancy words,” he said, sounding a little lost.

“It just means ‘thank you for letting me stay here,’” she clarified

“Oh. Of course,” he said, smiling again. “It’s my duty, after all.”

[malewifesband]

thank you for your perspective as a healthcare worker, and i appreciate you trying to add something to this conversation. it doesnt seem like youre fully aware of what peoples actual problems are, however, bc you dont mention that this critique is very, very frequently about kabrus race. mutiple poc have brought up this issue in the past and have been dismissed as shipwar shit stirrers, even when they dont ship labru at all nor much of anything

please hear me out because i do not want you to stumble into repeating racist rhetoric unwittingly.

-kabru is not freely giving care to his bf in the story, he is being detained and is not free to do as he wants. he is being coerced into caring for mithrun. he stops doing so as soon as he regains his freedom

-this is a highly racialized dynamic. kabru is a brown tallman, and mithrun is a white elf. both in our world and in the text, kabru belongs to a class which is expected to take under- and un-paid roles as caretakers to white disabled people. ceo of tumblr was recently sued for enslaving a woman to care for his geriatric mother--this is a real life problem that we are seeing people replicate in fiction. it is not neutral

-kabrus discomfort in caring for mithrun is completely ignored in favor of only looking at the times kabru feels fondness for mithrun or is kind despite mithruns mistreatment of him. kabru repeatedly expresses how difficult this is for him and how much he does not want to be doing this, and he does not return to being mithruns caretaker. even in 94, he gives a peptalk and stays to make sure mithrun carries out his promise and doesnt hurt himself. he does nothing that could reasonably be described as caretaking

-again, this is racial. much of the fanart and fanfic where kabru is mithruns caretaker puts kabru in a servile position. on his knees, at mithruns feet, beneath him. often only kabrus hands can be seen performing care that mithrun doesnt even need, like bathing and hand feeding him. its extremely racist to warp their dynamic into a master/servant one. in the text, kabru only tries to handfeed mithrun when hes frustrated with him (and his coerced role as caretaker) and mithrun clearly resents the action, yet i see this one CONSTANTLY as if there is no racial baggage to this imagery

thanks for listening!

A healthcare worker’s take on Dungeon Meshi shipping discourse

Hiya y’all! As someone who has become a fan of Dungeon Meshi (honestly one of my favorite franchises at this moment) I’d just like to give more of a nuanced take on a shipping discourse I’ve seen. I’d like to clarify this with I am an NA. I’ve literally been recognized by the country I live in through the sunshine awards system on my contributions to my patients lives. All this to say, I know a bit about healthcare. And I also think that. Personally, people should be allowed to ship whatever they please. They shouldn’t be made to feel guilty for what they enjoy, especially if it isn’t hurting anyone.

I’d like to clarify what I am speaking on, this being the controversy surrounding the ships Mithrun and Kabru, vs Laios and Kabru. Both of which are valid ships in my opinion! I think both are great! And whichever you like you should feel comfortable and happy to indulge in it.

I work mostly with geriatric and bariatric patients, as I work on a cardiac unit. So, by proxy, I witness a lot of disabled people come through. This to say that these people HAVE partners. And their partners care for them. Such as feeding their partners if they need help eating, helping their partners feel safe if they have dementia, I have even seen someone clean their spouse after they had soiled themself. All of which are examples of love and affection, as partners. Not as a provider doing their job.

The argument i see many a time against the ship of Mithrun and Kabru, is that it is unethical. As Kabru would be a “provider” in this case, and Mithrun would be a “patient” to this I say, is Kabru being paid in this hypothetical? Is he following training he has been given? Is he following a code of ethics given to healthcare workers when he helps Mithrun with his disability? Disabled people deserve love. And they deserve a partner that cares for them. So the argument that the ship is gross is kind of… weird. Isn’t it? Again. Mithrun and Kabru as partners do not have to be your cup of tea, but that doesn’t mean that anyone who DOES ship them is gross or immoral. Helping your partner because they are disabled is an act of love, and completely different from a provider helping their patient.

Statistically, everyone will either die able bodied or live to become disabled. It happens to everyone. Disabilities are almost as much of a fact of life as breathing is. I am new to the Dungeon Meshi fandom, but the insinuation that someone able bodied cannot have a disabled partner is kind of horrible to actual able bodied/disabled partnerships? The dynamic is so common, and so to say that it is gross, almost implies that the dynamic in a day to day is gross.

This post isn’t meant to be inflammatory, there are so many dungeon meshi ships I love with all my heart. Some that are rare pairs, some that are common within the fandom. I just think that people should be more friendly with each other. Kabru has two hands guys it’s okay /j /lh. Just please be more friendly guys. Both ships are valid. But the way the fandom gets so angry over it makes me scared. And I imagine it makes other people who are new to the manga/anime a little scared too.