#hello. hello. hello. help. eternal suffering | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothicpaperback · 5 days ago

Text

THE ART OF THE DEAL | PART 2 | harry castillo x you

<<< PART ONE: TERMS AND CONDITIONS | PART THREE: LIABILITIES >>>

wc: 3,7k | rating: 18+ for eventual smut | Harry Castillo x You | FALSE RELATIONSHIP

summary: you don’t believe in love. neither does he. that’s the only thing you agree on. after swearing off romance, you’ve built a quiet life in art preservation and avoiding anything resembling vulnerability. but when Harry Castillo, arrogant, infuriating, and stupidly rich, proposes you pretend to be his fiancée for the sake of getting his overbearing mother off his back, you’re thrown. but the money is good and with your detached views on romance and love, you make the perfect polished, commitment-free partner. It’s just a deal; cold, clean and temporary. but pretending to be in love with a man you can’t stand has a way of making you feel things you promised yourself you’d never feel again. especially when he starts looking at you like you're more than just a line item in a contract. And worst of all? You start looking back

the MC female character is YOU. she is not named and barely described physically aside from being able bodied and having hair long enough to grab.

tags/warnings: false relationship, mentions of materialists film, smut, enemies to lovers. i will add more tags as they become relevant.

THE ART OF THE DEAL | PART TWO | VALUATION ERRORS

The first week Harry isn't expecting to hear back from you. You're a woman who ruminates, who takes her time before making a decision like this. By not walking out on him by the end of your conversation he knew you were at least thinking about it.

But by the end of the second week with radio silence on your end he's starting to have his reservations. Maybe you were a bad choice. Maybe you really aren't interested in money.

This stress is compounded by a phone call from his mother, a warm woman who doesn't suffer fools. She can be your best friend or your worst enemy.

"Hello darling."

"Hello mother."

He's in his private office at work, glancing outside his glass windows to the group of bustling figures outside his doors.

"Are we still on for dinner next Friday? Your brother and Eleanor will be there."

Next Friday is the monthly dinner with the family at the estate. A tradition dating back to before Harry and Mason were even born.

Harry scowls. Why did Mason have to marry Eleanor in the first place? For Harry as the elder brother being single makes him look bad. They were supposed to be eternal bachelors. And you haven't gotten back to him which means he'll have to show up single to this, which means he'll never hear the end of it. Fuck.

"Yes, I'll be there," he says smoothly. "And I'm bringing my girlfriend."

You keep looking at the piece of paper held by a succulent magnet on your fridge. The One with the exorbitant fee on it. The one that Harry told you to double.

That kind of money means helping dad. It means dinners out. It means a nicer apartment. Although, as you glance around, you're not sure you want that. You like where you live for the most part.

But for Dad? That would be life changing.

But you can't do this to Gemma. She was so excited about Harry, so delighted about a future. How can you tell her that you're dating him? You can't exactly tell her the truth can you?

"Harry is paying me an obscene amount just so I pretend to be his girlfriend."

She'd be either absolutely disgusted or thoroughly disappointed in you.

You think of Harry in the deli, that watchful gaze of his. Is it possible he's some kind of pervert? A creep? Well, if they have him on as a client of Adore he can't be that creepy. You know from Gemma that they do extensive background checks. That gives you a bit of relief.

You should have contacted him by now, you decide. He's probably found another candidate. Your phone buzzes, the hour very late. You're surprised when you see its Gemma. How poetic. You open the text with a bit of trepidation, blown away by the all caps.

HE'S PERFECT

You smile to yourself at her familiar exuberance.

you said that about Harry Harry who? Haha

This guy is actually perfect. Great job, listens to me and is so cute!!!! He told me all about his family, his goals. I loved it. Harry barely told me anything. Bradford is the sweetest most genuine man.

Okay that sounds good so far. You'll overlook the douche bag pretentious name.

He sounds great. He said he's looking to get married, he doesn't want to play games. And he's a Leo. You know how rare that is?? Perfectly aligned with me being an Aquarius.

You hesitate.

So you aren't upset Harry broke things off? I'm texting you from B's bed right now, I think it's safe to say I could give a shit about that loser.

You have your answer.

"Would I have to live at your place?"

It takes Harry a moment to realize who's speaking at the other end of his cell. He's still in his large bed, buried under silk sheets, body warm from sleep.

Your voice is loud for this early in the morning or late at night, depending on who you ask. You sound like you're pacing back and forth. He clears his throat of sleep.

"Pardon?"

"If I agree to this, do I have to live with you?"

Harry licks his dry lips, pushing himself to a seated position, spine against the headboard.

"Not if you're not comfortable with it."

"You are?"

"I figured we'd approach things organically. Maybe we do maybe we don't. Maybe you'll want to live here and sublet your apartment. There's plenty of space and privacy. You'd have the guest room of course. The penthouse is large."

He hears you scoff.

"Of course you live in a penthouse. I bet you have a butler and everything."

Harry grins. "No. No butler. But I do have a live-in chef."

He hears the quiet pause on the other end. "Wait, were you asleep when I called?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Okay. Bye."

The call ends abruptly and Harry just stares at the phone, shocked.

You switch to texting after that, clearly feeling guilty for waking him. He's in the first meeting of the day when the one comes sailing in. He’s expecting it to be a client, so he’s pleasantly surprised to see its you.

Is this a pretty woman kink?

He feels his brows furrow and under the table he replies quickly, thumb swiping.

A what? You find a poor lost soul, dress her up, take her to the racetrack and show up at her fire escape with roses and a limo? Wait have you not seen the movie Pretty Woman? Should I have? Definitely!!!!!!!!!!!!

He becomes used to texts that pepper through his week, amused when he sees your name pop up on his mobile.

Do I have to post photos of us on socials? Are you? I don't want to have to explain that to ppl No. We don't do social media in our family unless it's for work. Okay. We aren't going to visit my family okay? I don't want them caught up in this. Perfectly fine.

You don't reply for a day and a half. Harry takes this time to rent Pretty Woman, watching it on his bed, one arm behind his head, the other resting on his abdomen.

As the credits roll he can't help but reach for his phone.

Alright I've seen Pretty Woman and no, that is not my kink. This is not that. For one thing she was a prostitute. True. Secondly I don't ride in a limo. That's incredibly tacky. Yea, so are roses. Good to know. What flowers do you like? Why? Boyfriends buy their girlfriends flowers.

He gets distracted by some work that needs his attention, his focus elsewhere. But at somewhere around 10 pm as he leaves the office, Harry receives the text he's been waiting for.

Okay. I'm in.

This is quickly followed up by:

Oh and ghost orchids.

Relief blooms in his chest and he hurriedly types back.

Excellent. In that case we need to meet to discuss some things. Tomorrow at Noba-Inu tomorrow? My car can pick you up.

Harry is surprised to see you call almost immediately. You sound out of breath, walking outside when he answers.

"Why do we need to meet in person?"

"We need to go over some things. If this is going to work we need to know a bit about each other."

Harry glances outside his large penthouse windows to see fat raindrops drifting down from the night sky.

"Just text me details about yourself and I'll do the same."

Harry frowns. That's not how he does things. "In person is preferred."

He hears you about to speak, likely to disagree when you pause. There's the honk of a car horn and then your voice comes out tired. "Okay. What time?"

More evening traffic noises on your end distracts him. "Where are you?"

"Walking."

"This late? Alone?"

"So you wanted to meet where again? Is there a dress code?"

You sound weird. Harry doesn't know you all that well but he can hear the hesitancy in your tone, your end of the conversation shrouded in mystery.

"Give me the address and I'll have my driver get you home when you're done at... Where are you again?"

Silence. It's so quiet that he's sure you dropped the call. Then your voice reaches out steely and cold.

"I'm fine. I'll get home fine. And I'll make it to dinner tomorrow just fine without your town car. What time tomorrow?"

You haven't had sushi in forever and at the sight of the restaurant’s name in neon above the door you feel your stomach growling.

You pay the cab driver with a smile before walking up to the restaurant, smoothing down your dress. You decided to put a little effort into your outfit tonight. After all what Harry is paying you is a very large amount, and you want to hold up your end of the bargain respectfully.

You walk through the doors only to be greeted by a wide-eyed, smiling man.

"Hello. Let me take your coat."

The restaurant is small, intimate when you walk in, like most upscale specialty restaurants. It's why it takes months to get in. But as you cast your eyes around the space, you notice that it's completely empty.

"Please, let me show you to your seat."

You follow the man with a nod, eyes bouncing around the space, perplexed that it's empty. You didn't Google this place beforehand. You just assumed it would be good. The man leads you to the back of the restaurant, stopping in front of a large jade door, looking at you as he pushes it open.

"Here we are," the smiling man says, motioning for you to enter. "Have a wonderful meal."

The second you walk through the doors Harry stands at his table, smiling politely and, watching as you come to take the seat next to him in the large space.

You're still gazing around everywhere as if in a daze, stopping in front of him. You see the large bouquet of flowers he has for you waiting at the table with so many white petals that it looks like a small garden. Ghost orchids.

"Good evening," he says smoothly, leaning forward. "You look lovely."

He looks about to kiss you and you pull back, panicking. "What the hell are you doing?"

Harry blinks at you. "Saying hello."

You hold your breath as he comes close again, pressing a dry kiss to your cheekbone as your face heats. Oh.

You take a seat next to him at the large bar table. You gaze in front of you at the head chef who stands before a large workspace with meats, rice, seaweed and much more organized on top of it.

"I'm glad you made it," Harry says as he nods to one of the female servers flanking the chef. "I wasn't sure you'd show up."

"Same here."

You pause when a pretty server with very curly hair comes to Harry and shows him the bottle.

"Akitabare, Suirakuten, 20 Year Reserve, Daiginjō, Akita."

You have no fucking idea what that means but Harry seems to because he nods with a thank you. She presents beautiful porcelain mug of jade green, delicately painted with gold accents. You watch the clear liquid coat each glass, thanking her when she pulls back.

Harry raises his glass, clinking the lip against yours when you do the same.

"To an evening of due diligence."

You smile at that, cheers-ing and taking a ginger sip only to wrinkle your nose at it. Again the barren landscape of the space draws your attention and you tilt Harry's way, voice soft so as not to be overheard.

"Is this place bad or something?"

His brows pull tight. "Bad?"

"Yeah. Like, is the food good?"

He stares at you with a weird little smile. "Of course."

"Then why is it so empty?," you whisper.

Harry suppresses a smirk. "Because I rented it out for the evening.

You eyes turn owlish. "The whole place?"

"Mhm."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

Harry shrugs. "I think better when it's quiet.”

You're twisted in your seat to face him and it feels weird to interact like this. It feels oddly intimate and you would have preferred across from him at some booth in a diner. You turn your attention back to the chef making beautiful bite-sized items that have you drooling

"Do you like the flowers?"

"Huh?" It takes you a moment to come back to the conversation. You look at the massive bouquet and pat it absently.

"Oh. Oh, yes, very much. Thanks a lot. But you really didn't have to do that."

Harry looks at you for a long time, assessing, much like he did that first day with you. It makes you dart your eyes back to your glass, taking a small sip and trying not to flinch.

"Those aren't your favorite flowers."

"What?" You feel your face pricking with heat as you stare back at him. "No. I'm just not a flower person."

Before he can say anything else the dishes are served to you by the chef who looks delighted when he sees your eyes widen at the assortment of food.

"This is the Salmon Karashi su Miso and baked crab handroll to start" he tells you in a quiet raspy voice as he pushes forth the second plate. "Followed by the Omakase."

"Holy shit," you breathe quietly.

Harry chuckles into his sake glass. The chef and the servers look to Harry expectantly when he says their names.

"Thank you so much, Hinata, everything looks wonderful. Would you mind giving us a bit of privacy?"

The three of them give a short bow before heading out the side door leaving you and Harry completely alone.

"Dig in," he says when he sees you eyeing the food.

You don't need to be asked twice. He hasn't even finished the sentence before your chopsticks are digging in. He watches you in curiosity as you smile around a roll.

"Just so you know, nice stuff like this is wasted on me," you say popping another roll into your mouth and chewing.

"Why do you say that?"

"I mean, I'm sure you have a refined palette. You grew up on nice stuff. I didn’t. I really like pizza from that place on seventh. My favourite drink is whatever's cheapest on the menu."

Harry watches your profile as you speak, amused at the nonchalant way you explain, without a hint of embarrassment. He likes that about you, he decides.

"All I'm saying is that when it's just us you don't have to splash out." You pop another roll into your mouth. "I get when we're on fake dates or whatever. But stuff like this? We can just meet for coffee."

"Noted."

Harry begins to eat slowly, savouring each bite. Meals are his favourite indulgence; good food and good wine lift any bad mood.

"So, we're supposed to be learning about each other right?" You ask, food tucked into one cheek.

"As well as answering any lingering questions you may have about this."

You look off into the distance and he watches your jaw rise and fall as you think. "I guess I'm worried I agree to this and you change your mind or I don't get paid."

"I assure you that you will be paid regardless if I change my mind or not."

"How often?"

Harry leans back, his lower lip stuck out in thought. "Every two weeks?"

"Seems fair."

You tap your chopsticks against the plate, still looking hesitant. Harry regards you, the room feeling empty and overbearing. You seem to shrink into yourself, anxious.

"Would you feel more comfortable with a contract?"

You glance Harry's way, surprised by the question. It makes sense; he's a financier and probably writes contracts like this for breakfast. Maybe you should say yes, but what would be the point? You don’t have a lawyer that could look it over.

"No," you answer eventually. "Not right now."

Harry nods, taking a long sip of sake. "So if this is going to work we need to sell the idea of being a couple. Background, goals, that sort of thing."

"Right." You twist to face him head on, legs crossed. "So, how long are we supposed to have been dating for?"

"Not long. A month or two?"

"Okay. Where did we meet?"

"Adore. It's believable."

"Is that the matchmaking service you met Gemma on?"

Harry nods. "Yes."

"You have siblings?"

"Yes," Harry says between sips. "A younger brother, Mason. And you?"

"Only child." You l give an absent hum. "Pets?"

"None. You?"

"None. But I would like a fish one day I think. Maybe. I don't really like the commitment."

"Speaking of which, Gemma mentioned you're divorced."

The air is sucked from the room, your reply pushed out between gritted teeth. “Yes.”

"Do you have contact with your ex?"

"No."

He can tell by the change in your disposition that he's almost pushed too far. This is a topic that will be aborted and maybe touched on at a later date. Maybe. He picks a safer topic as he works his way through the omakase.

"Do you like to travel?"

Your shoulders lower. "Yes. I backpacked through Europe before college."

"Favourite place?"

"Prague." You take another bite of nigiri. "You?”

“Vienna.”

The two of you talk for the next hour, exchanging the kind of information that you would with any first date. Favourite music, movies, hobbies.

"I know you love to sketch," Harry observes. "What else?"

You lean back, stomach full and mood lightened. Harry is a decent conversationalist, even though this half feels like a job interview.

"Museums, plays. I like anything cultural, really. I can't get enough of learning about the world."

You're nothing like Harry expected after that first meeting. You're funny and open and he feels more at ease than he anticipated being this evening.

"What about affection?" You ask suddenly, warmed from the food and the drink. "Are we hand-holding people?"

"I don't see why not."

You frown. "But like, not overly PDA, right? I know you're paying me but making out in public doesn't exactly sit well with me."

Harry gives a dimpled grin. "No. No excessive PDA. The odd kiss may be required."

He notices the way that your eyes dip to his lips and then back. You open your mouth t mo say something when the door opens to the side and the chef reappears with a large plate. He points to the selection as he places it down between you and Harry on the table.

"We have Namagashi on the left, Hojicha Pudding in the bowls and Anmitsu in these glass jars. I hope you enjoy."

He shuffles back out as you and Harry thank him. Harry watches you survey the offerings, your eyes darting from piece to piece overwhelmed with the spread.

You eventually pick one of the colorful namagashi in the shape of a flower and pop it into your mouth, reminding Harry of your previous conversation.

"What's your favourite flower? Really."

You look a bit embarrassed, your face scrunching. "I don't have one," you answer truthfully. "I just said ghost orchids because I didn't think you'd actually be able to find them." You shoot a toothy grin his way. "Guess I should've known better."

He laughs lowly, melodic and warm.

"Can I call you something other than Harry?" You ask, taking another candied flower from the tray. "Like, H or Castillo or something? Harry is just such a goofy sounding name."

"I'll try not to be offended by that," he says. "When we're alone, feel free to call me whatever feels right. When we're with family its Harry."

"Okay."

"What made you agree to this?" Harry asks you. "For a while there I thought you might change your mind and leave me hanging."

"I almost did, but, like most people I need the money, so..." You trail off, eyes averted. It embarrasses you to admit this.

"May I ask what for?"

And as if a curtain has been drawn over the moment, he sees the way your spine stiffens and the way your jaw tightens. That brief interlude of openness and earnestness is now wiped away, replaced by that thin veneer of disdain that you have hold for him.

"You may not."

Harry's jaw clicks to the side in thought, eyes digging into the side of your face, but you don't look look his way.

"If that's everything I think I better get home," you say tightly. "I have a long day tomorrow."

Harry stands as you do, extending an envelope your way. You take it hesitantly, noting your name on the front.

"What's this?"

"Goodwill payment. Next one arrives in two weeks. Let me know if you prefer a check or Venmo."

You flinch as you shove the envelope into your dress pocket, feeling strange about this whole encounter. He's much less annoying than you remember, but he's also a lot nosier. Why should he care what you need the money for?

He pulls something else from his interior jacket pocket, holding it out to you. It's a credit card with your name on it.

"This is for any extra expenses that pop up," he says handing you the credit card. "There's an automatic $10,000 limit so let me know if you need more."

You stare at the card for what feels like forever looking at the sleek black gloss, the way your name looks in delicate gold. Ten thousands dollars?

"How do you know I won't go crazy and buy a bunch of shit?" You ask, eyes finally rising to his.

"Go nuts," he shrugs. "Just nothing I have to wear. An ex of mine loved to tell me how to dress." He grimaces. "I'm a grown man. I can dress myself."

You take the card in hand, feeling the heft of it, certain that it’s heavier than your basic credit card. You slant your eyes his way.

"I'll be honest, Castillo, I wasn't even thinking of buying you anything."

Harry grins, full teeth, full dimple. His chuckle is low but resonant in the small space.

"So," you offer, "what next?"

"Are you free tomorrow?"

"For what?"

Harry smiles at the suspicion in your voice.

"For our first date. You get to meet my parents."

authors note: all of your comments and reblogs made it easy to write the next chapter. 💋💋💋💋

i got the line dividers from @saradika-graphics

#The Art of the Deal #Harry Castillo #harry castillo the materialists #the materialists #harry castillo x you #harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo fic #harry castillo smut #harry castillo x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedrohub

173 notes · View notes

neilissevered · 12 days ago

Text

SCARS AND SOUVENIRS

After Su-ho falls into a coma, Si-eun is consumed by guilt and isolation, pushing everyone away—even you, the one who stayed. Yeon Si-eun x gn! Reader takes place when Su-ho fell into a coma, mild angst, hurt with comfort, slow burn, it gets lighter towards the end I swear wc: 6k+

an: Hello! This is my first time writing for whc, and I love Si-eun so much (I'm a Si-eun truther fr) anyways, this might be a little study on his psyche after the events of Su-ho, like how it affected him emotionally, physically, and socially. (So this is going to be LONGG) And it makes me wonder how he dealt with that and how someone could possibly help him. I hope you can enjoy this fic!

Edit: this turned out longer than I expected😭 each scenes are separated by a divider!!

It’s strange how guilt works. It consumes unforgivably, and it doesn't matter whether the person deserves it or not.

Si-eun was no exception as he stood transfixed, gazing at Su-ho's motionless body. The rhythmic hiss of the ventilator, the only sound breaking the silence, seemed like a cruel irony—a mechanical substitute for life, barely sustaining Su-ho's fragile existence. The mere thought that his friend might be slipping away, irretrievable, sent a chill down Si-eun's spine, filling him with an unspeakable dread.

How did it all happen so fast? He does not know. It’s beyond his knowledge. No amount of textbooks can give him the answers that he needs.

Because when he finally finds something good, something tangible, he has to be the one to watch it all crumble away.

Si-eun admits he isn’t good with friends.

God, much less a friend group that has an odd mix of people. He, the ‘human calculator’ as the others would comment, you and Beom-seok being the new transferees, and Su-ho, who has made the school his home. He’d grumble, brood, and even nearly stuff his ears with cotton because the combined noises that his three friends made were equal to an entire classroom during break time.

He clung to the memories of those chaotic moments, cherishing every second as if they had occurred yesterday. It felt like an eternity ago when he was desperately trying to keep their group from falling apart. He vividly recalled the struggles of understanding Beom-seok's motives on Young-yi, of restraining both you and Su-ho from making reckless decisions, as the situation spiraled out of control like a runaway train.

The weight of those responsibilities still lingered, making his heart heavy with the burden of what could have been.

Jealousy happened,

Secrets were made.

Punches were landed.

And kicks were delivered to the head.

Now, you and Si-eun were left with the debris of the destruction. Both left to gather the pieces, desperately trying to go back to how it was before. Even when the damage had already been done.

That would have been okay, a lesson-learned moment. Just start again, right? But as you gazed into Si-eun's eyes, you realized that he, too, was spiraling gradually, with his grip on reality being tenuous at best.

And god, how much you wanted a solution to everything. But how could you make one when even Si-eun can’t?

So now, you are here. In a classroom that has become a shell.

Sometimes, if you doze off during a lecture or if you close your eyes a little tighter, you could hear it—the cackles of laughter, the teasing, and the little calculated voice that always comes right after. You can sense it too, in the air, where something or someone is missing. And you can’t help but let your eyes wander to the empty seat next to the door.

You glance around the classroom, feeling a wave of frustration wash over you. Your gaze falls on your classmates, who are chatting and laughing with each other, completely carefree. It's as if they're oblivious to the pain and suffering you and Si-eun endured, like they're living in a different world.

The bitter, awful taste settles in your mouth, like a sour lemon drop dissolving on your tongue. You can't help but wonder how they can be so normal, so indifferent, while you're still reeling from the trauma. It's like they're pretending nothing ever happened, and that's what makes it so infuriating.

But really, it felt like you were on your own with suffering.

You look towards Si-eun, honing in on his textbooks as usual, posture slightly slouched as he takes notes, earbuds stuffed into his ears. From an outsider's view, it just looks like Si-eun being Si-eun.

But for you? There’s tension all around him. The guilt and suffering are too suffocating when you get close. What was once warm between you two has now turned cold and stale. His back faces your front, acting as a wall, and he sits there in front of you like a stranger.

And oh, how it toyed with your heart. Because this was your only friend left.

Young-yi was gone, having distanced herself from your group ever since she saw the state Su-ho was in. It makes sense to stick closer to Si-eun. To figure out a way to slowly mend things. To be there for Su-ho until he wakes up.

But no matter how much you stared, knowing that Si-eun could feel your intense gaze, he would not look back. He would not even acknowledge you.

He left you there in your world. And for the entire day, you switched between staring at the empty pages of your notebook and the empty seat beside the door.

“Si-eun.”

“Si-eun, it’s lunch time, we should get something to eat.”

He hasn’t been eating, you noticed. Like you also noticed the heavy bags under his eyes or how pale and cracked his lips have gotten. He can keep pushing you away if that’s what he wants. But you're firm. You'll wait patiently, ready to offer a lifeline when he's ready to accept it.

He does not say anything. Not even spared you a glance as he took out his earbuds and crossed his arms to lay his head down on the table.

You stood frozen, a statue of silence, as the heavy air between you hung like a challenge.

But you didn’t push. You left and came back to leave snacks on the space beside his head—a silent way of saying that you were still there, and you were going to wait for him to come to you when he was ready.

And that was it.

For weeks, you orbited his world, a constant but invisible presence. Not touching, not speaking, just silently there. And as you gazed at his back, a mix of concern and longing swirled within you, leaving you to wonder if somehow, you could absorb the weight of his guilt. To ease the pain that seemed to pull him down. To set him free.

Si-eun: “Su-ho, today felt just the same as it did weeks ago. I visited your grandmother last night. She’s okay. She told me Young-yi still calls now and then. Dropping by on the rare occasion, and she seems to be okay as well. I’m being transferred to a new school soon after finals. Thankfully, it’s not too far from here. I hope you’re doing well. Wake up soon.”

You and Si-eun would visit the hospital after school.

In reality, though, it felt more like shadowing Si-eun as you followed him. It had been a while since you walked beside him. For some reason, the closeness of that felt too much. It’s like the tension between the two of you would pop if you stayed too close. It made your hands clammy and your jaw tense while you tried to focus on matching his footsteps to ground yourself.

You’re both so painfully aware of each other that it hurts. Breathing the same oxygen, sharing the same memories—and yet he’s so close, but so far. You missed him.

Moments like these, you wished he would say something. Anything. Tell you to leave him alone, or stay, or just acknowledge that you existed in his orbit. That he can still see you.

But he was quiet.

To the hospital, and to the room where Su-ho stayed. He didn’t go inside, though. He stayed outside, typing away on his phone.

He was always like that, you noticed. You’re always the one inside. And maybe it was because the reality of Su-ho's condition was too difficult for Si-eun to confront. Maybe he forced himself to imagine his friend as usual, complaining about the unnecessary hospital stay, or pleading for some seaweed soup.

As Si-eun's thumbs danced across the screen, you suspected that he was sending messages to Su-ho, clinging to the hope that his friend would soon respond, and everything would go back to normal.

“Su-ho, look, your favorite drink was in stock this morning.” You brought Su-ho’s favorite drink this time. You hoped that the mention of it would make him wake up, say something cheesy and teasing while happily accepting the drink.

Sitting down at the cold, hard hospital chair, the drink in one hand, you took in the sight of your motionless friend.

The stillness was unnerving, and you felt an overwhelming urge to leave, to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the room. The antiseptic smell, a pungent mix of disinfectant and stagnation, hung heavy in the air, making your head spin.

You didn’t want to stay too long. You know Su-ho would hate that too. You also hated the stupid beeping of his heart monitor. It was supposed to be a reassurance, a sign that he was still clinging to life, but to you, it felt like a cruel taunt, a harsh reminder of his fragile state.

Your eyes turned glassy as you recounted the past few weeks. A lump forms in your throat as you tell the struggles of trying to be there for Si-eun, trying to wake him up from the guilt that he buried himself in.

A guilt and suffering so raw and all-consuming that you can feel yourself getting drowned in it too.

You squeezed the drink in your hand as you let out a sob. Your voice became shaky and jumbled. Phrases broke as you tried to make sense of everything. You felt defeated, as the world you once knew was no longer there.

And finally, you fell.

You fell on the fragile structure you made yourself stand in—the structure that you offered to Si-eun as a lifeline for both of you, and a silent plea that you would, and could, carry some of his burdens too. That you and your remaining friend can share the weight of it all.

Sobs shattered your entire body, no longer caring if Si-eun could hear you. You were so tired, so exhausted from keeping your own emotions in check so as not to overwhelm Si-eun with your desperation and weakness.

And as if the universe itself was mocking your despair, it rained hard. The thunderstorm matched the whimpers you let out as you held onto the drink.

You felt nothing. You felt like nothing but the overwhelming buzz of pain and desperation beneath your skin. Your head pounded with the rhythmic sounds of Su-ho’s heart monitor, your eyes blurring and unblurring each time you tried to wipe away the downpour of tears.

Overwhelmed with so much emotion, your mind gave control to your body as you abruptly stood up—the scrape of the chair against the hospital’s floor left unheard as your cries filled the room.

And you did the only thing your body wanted to do.

You ran.

You ran out of the room where your friend was tethered.

You ran away from Si-eun, his worried call of your name falling on deaf ears.

You ran out of the hospital, and in doing so, you abandoned the world you once knew.

The rain welcomed you like you belonged there, underneath the merciless droplets as your clothes became wet and soggy, clinging uncomfortably to your figure as you tried to quell your tears.

You held your chest tightly, trying to breathe and letting the rain wash out your tears. Your legs felt like lead, your body drained from the adrenaline rush that had left you spent.

You felt like sitting and wallowing in your puddle of despair without a care in the world, even if it would ruin your pants, and really, you didn’t mean to be dramatic, but you were just so confused; you and your friends are just a bunch of high schoolers.

The complexity of the situation seemed to mock your naivety, leaving you wondering how something so ordinary could unravel into such chaos.

Before you fell any further, the rain suddenly stopped. You no longer feel the droplets of water hitting your body, and you are left shivering in the cold. Slowly, you turned around

And he was there.

Yeon Si-eun was there. His face contorted to a mix of genuine concern and fear. His dark, doe eyes are glassy, almost begging you to tell him what’s wrong as he shakily holds out an umbrella over your head. You noticed his labored breathing, almost panting.

You wondered if he had chased after you. His clothes were damp, too, and you saw that the umbrella only protected half of his body.

In that moment, the rain-soaked world around you melted away, and all that mattered was the fragile connection between you and Si-eun.

He whispered your name, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, but before he could continue, you interrupted him. Your voice was laced with a mix of emotions—pain, sadness, and a hint of anger.

“Hey, Si-eun.” You gave him a pained smile. Your grin not reaching your eyes as a scoff escaped your lips, a sound that was both bitter and disbelieving. You weren't even sure yourself what emotion was driving it.

“Is this how you feel? Every day?” You asked the question, your voice barely above a whisper.

You stared right back at his eyes, and for once, Si-eun saw the hollowness that yours held. He didn’t reply. He just gazed, his eyes drilling into yours, searching for something, anything, that could explain the void you were carrying.

But he couldn't hold your gaze for long. His eyes wavered, dropping to the wet ground beneath his feet, as if the weight of your words had become too much to bear. Suddenly, he was aware of everything around him—the sound of rain, the feel of the cold air on his skin, the smell of wet clothes clinging to his body, and your disheveled state.

“Look at me, Si-eun.”

He doesn’t, he couldn’t. He’s trying to wrack his mind for something. Something to solve this. Something to fix every—

“I said, look at me when I’m talking to you!”

You grasped his shoulders as you let out another broken plea, the sudden action making him drop the umbrella that was protecting both of you from the rain. The material of his jacket wrinkled under your shaky grip as you looked right into him.

“Su-ho…he’s not gone. He’s still there. You know how strong he is. We both know that.” You lightly shook him as you spoke, as if trying to shake him awake while you broke down in front of him.

“But why, why do I feel like you’re the one who’s gone?”

“I’m right here–”

“No, you’re not!” You cried out in desperation.

And he finally looks. His mouth was slightly agape as he tried to find the right words to say. It was too much for him. The vulnerability that you bared for him. The pain that you held in your eyes, as he could feel every tremor of your hand on his jacket. He realized then that he can’t logic his way out of this.

Because Si-eun had always been the rational one. He solved things, Fixed things. Calculated outcomes and plotted next moves like it was all a chess game. But this..you?.. You weren’t an equation. He couldn’t use his pen. Couldn’t punch it out or bury it in a textbook behind silence. And that terrified him more than anything.

“He’s not coming back any faster, no matter how much you ignore me.”

For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of rain. No umbrellas. No pretense. Just the two of you, soaked and broken, under the weight of what had been lost and what still could be.

You said that last sentence in a whisper. Almost like an ultimatum. You were tired, spent, maybe about to get a fever from the cold and rain. You shakily let go of his shoulders. The sorrow in your eyes returned to its empty state the longer that Si-eun was silent.

Half-expecting him to walk away, you started to leave. Maybe to go back to your home, or a convenience store. You weren’t sure. You just wanted to be away from everything.

But before your second step even landed, you felt it. His hand wraps gently around your wrist, lightly squeezing as if begging you not to go. Not yet.

You hated that you stopped. Hated that part of you still wanted him to stop you. That some fragile, stubborn corner of your heart had hoped he’d reach for you. Just once. Just this once. Even after what you went through to finally get to him. This was your last prayer, whispered in silence.

And he heard it. Not in words, not even in the tremble of your breath, but in the way your wrist stilled under his touch, not pulling away. And the air between you was thick with everything you didn’t say. Every apology left unspoken. Every moment lost in hesitation. His hand was still on yours, unsure, as if he was still trying to figure out whether he had the right to hold you there. Or maybe he had already lost that right long ago.

But he held on anyway.

His hand remained on your wrist. Warm and almost grounding.

“Don’t go.” It sounded like a plea. Soft and wavering and so unlike the Si-eun you knew.

“I know I don’t deserve to ask that.” He added. Catching his breath for a moment while you silently listened. “After everything.”

Si-eun was aware of what he did when he distanced himself from you, his last friend. He can practically feel the desperation in your voice whenever you try to talk to him. Or every time you left food on his desk when lunchtime rolled around at school. He knew the turmoil that you were also quietly suffering in, and how his guilt slowly turned into your guilt, and his sorrow became your sorrow.

Your silence urged him to continue.

“I thought if I kept you away..I wouldn’t break anything more than I already had.” You can hear how much it cost him to say those words. He was hesitant; you can feel it in the way his grip on your wrist wavered. It was almost as if he wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to go. He won’t force you to stay.

And that’s what undid you.

You turned. You finally looked at him and you saw his eyes, red, puffy, and tired. His face was flushed from how freezing it was to stay in the rain. He looked like a boy. It made you realize how messed up all of this was. Both of you were too small for a world so big, and the burdens too heavy to carry for some high schoolers who were supposed to be reviewing for the next exam.

“I wasn’t asking you to fix anything, Si-eun.”

“I know. I see that now”

“What happened to Su-ho… It wasn’t your fault.”

He was stunned by that. His lips slightly quivered from the cold or your words, he wasn’t sure. It felt like a dam finally broke within him. And with it came silent tears. Not loud, not visible at first. Just the kind that slipped quietly from his eyes, mingling with the rain on his cheeks. The kind of crying that looked more like surrender than sorrow. A collapse too quiet to be noticed unless someone was looking.

You were.

The wound was still fresh on him, seeing Su-ho stuck on that bed became his daily nightmare, and what he did out of revenge didn’t make it any better.

For a moment, you pulled away from him and bent down to pick up the discarded umbrella, bringing it over both of you, even though you and Si-eun were already soaked to the bone.

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Si-eun.”

Finally, it feels like a weight has been lifted off both you and Si-eun. It wasn’t completely gone, of course. The pressure and the mark it left stayed there as both you and Si-eun went about your days. After that moment in the rain, you felt like you cracked his walls a little. Hope was renewed, and you had something new to cling to.

A silent routine fell between you. In the early mornings, you both walked to school, always meeting at an intersection before continuing up the street. Sometimes you would ask how he is or if he has eaten breakfast. He would do a one-word answer that was typical of him or just nod at what you’re saying.

It wasn’t like before when there was Su-ho, Beom-seok, or even Young-yi. The rowdiness of your once-friend group has left something peaceful. You missed all of it, of course. But change was change, and you accepted this one, albeit reluctantly.

You’d always admired him. His sharp mind, his laser-like focus, the way he could tune out the entire world for the sake of a problem set. It was impressive. Annoyingly so. He was the kind of student who made teachers beam and classmates groan.

But Jesus, did he ever stop?

Your physics teacher was deep in a monotonous rant about projectile motion, gravity, and God knows what else, his voice dragging across the room like nails on a chalkboard made of sleep deprivation. Meanwhile, you were locked in a life-or-death battle to keep your head from surrendering to gravity in the most literal sense. One more droning equation and you were going to face-plant into your desk, no hesitation.

So, naturally, your only reasonable option to stay alert and awake?

Challenge Si-eun, distract the genius. Stir the unshakable.

Si-eun, for his part, was completely focused. He took down notes as the lecture went on. Ignoring everything and everyone around him. It has been a while since the noise in his head finally settled. He started to sleep a little easier now, and he no longer felt too bitter about switching schools with you. Besides, he could still visit Su-ho as the hospital was a walking distance away from the building and—

Thwack!

A crumpled piece of paper nailed him right on the back of the head. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to derail whatever train of thought he was riding and bring it crashing into the station. The paper hit his collar, bounced, then rolled dramatically down his shoulder before falling onto the floor.

Si-eun blinked. Pen paused mid-stroke. He didn't even need to look back.

There was only one person bold enough to mess with him during a lecture like this.

You.

And God help you, you were grinning.

You were already leaning forward by the time he straightened up, chin propped lazily on your hand, an innocent expression on your face that was anything but innocent. Your eyes met the back of his head like you were waiting for him to combust. You can see it. The way his attention wavered, and he stopped drawing stupid diagrams. Days with Si-eun no longer felt cold or heavy. Things were finally starting to get better.

And there is no way in hell he is going to continue listening to how Newton just made math even more complicated.

When he didn’t turn around, you leaned in closer, voice just above a whisper. “Hey, Einstein.”

And finally, Si-eun sighed through his nose, eyes flicking toward the crumpled paper now lying sadly on the floor like a fallen soldier. He could already predict what would happen next.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” you asked, blinking. “I haven’t even said anything.”

“You’re thinking loud enough.”

A grin curled at your lips, mischievous and playful. Just the fact he was entertaining you with banter was already more brownie points for you. You have him hooked. “Good. Saves me the trouble of whispering.”

Still no turn. Still scribbling notes. Classic Si-eun. So you upped the ante.

You gently tapped the back of his chair with your foot. Once. Then again. A steady rhythm before you decide to drop the greatest idea you've ever had.

“I’m bored. You’re overachieving. It’s raining. Let’s skip.”

Now he turned. Just slightly. Head tilting enough to give you the meanest side-eye to ever exist as if to question your entire being. So, you responded in kind with a raise of your brow as if challenging him. He only blinked before letting out a sigh.

“You want me to skip class. Physics, of all things. To do what exactly?”

Finally. “Convenience store run. Ramyeon, hot canned coffee, maybe strawberry milk if you’re feeling nostalgic. You, me, fluorescent lights, freedom.”

You gave him a playful wink, your fingers drumming against the desk steadily and loud enough because you were trying to distract him from the teacher’s announcement of an upcoming quiz, and you weren’t losing your progress of finally getting back your friend. The bond was a little shaky, but you decided that baby steps were better than nothing.

In reality, though, Si-eun already knew about that quiz. It was announced a week ago during a lecture where you were fast asleep on your table. Drooling.

“Tempting,” he muttered, but you caught the flicker of amusement behind his eyes.

“I know you’re hungry,” you added, nudging his chair one more time. “And don’t lie and say you’re not, because your stomach made a noise two minutes ago. It sounded like a dying bear.”

“That was your pen falling.”

“No, that was my patience falling.”

He gave you a long, exasperated look—but it didn’t reach his eyes. No, there was something else there. The smallest tug at the corner of his mouth. A softening. You could almost see the scales tipping, and it only made you grin even wider. Suddenly, you didn’t care about what was happening around you. Not when you finally find that little smile that you have been working on to bring back.

And then you said, more quietly this time, “Come on, Si-eun. Just one break. The world won’t fall apart if you breathe for forty-five minutes.”

A peaceful quiet sat between you for a second. He knew what you meant, and you didn’t have to say it. He’d been carrying too much. Always pushing and enduring. There were times he would go back to his self-wallowing, where he would still accidentally push you away, and studying has always been his escape.

But today, you were offering something else. A moment outside the pressure, the guilt, the relentless pace of trying to be okay.

He looked down at his open notebook, the half-finished diagram of an arcing projectile staring back at him like it, too, was trying to convince him to stay.

And then he exhaled. A quiet, almost imperceptible surrender, and he began packing up his things.

You blinked. Leaning over his shoulder to confirm what you were witnessing, “Wait… seriously?”

“You want to go or not?” he said, zipping up his bag without meeting your eyes. “Before I change my mind and remember I have a conscience.”

You shot up from your seat, already grabbing your bag. “You had a conscience?”

“Don’t push it.”

Thankfully, the teacher didn’t care. Si-eun was transferring, and he is an excellent student on his own.

And you..well, you’re transferring with him.

The sun slanted low through the tall windows, casting golden streaks across the dusty shelves. The library was near silent, the kind of quiet that felt sacred, like even time had been asked to hold its breath as students slowly filtered out of the library until it’s just you, Si-eun, and a handful of other students who buried their noses into books.

You sat across from Si-eun at one of the back tables, your notebooks spread out in disorganized chaos, while his were stacked neatly, probably even color-coded by subject, knowing him. Between the two of you were a handful of empty candy wrappers from the snacks you'd brought. Well, mostly for yourself..Si-eun had eaten two, while you’d somehow managed six. You weren’t sure why you were keeping count.

The original plan was simple: study together, then head out to visit Su-ho at the hospital. That was the plan, anyway.

But at some point, the words on the pages had begun to blur.

Si-eun leaned back in his chair slightly, brows furrowed in focus, scribbling notes into the margin of his textbook. You were supposed to be solving a physics problem, but instead, you watched him and the way the sunlight caught in the strands of his hair, how his mouth moved just slightly when he read in his head.

Has he always looked like this?

Peaceful and just absorbed in his world, but not in a bad way. You felt some pride to see how much you and he have improved compared to a few weeks ago, and Si-eun’s resilience was one of the things you admire about him.

Until you couldn’t tell where admiration ended and something else began.

You didn’t mean to speak. It just... slipped out.

“You look peaceful like this.”

His pen paused mid-stroke.

He didn’t look up immediately. You could see his shoulders tense slightly and the way his eyes blinked once, then twice, like he’d heard something he wasn’t sure he was supposed to. Because it wasn’t one of the things he predicted you would say. Maybe another convenience run to abandon all school work. But not..this.

A long moment passed.

“I’m just studying,” he said finally, voice low, almost cautious, his words carefully picked out.

“I know. That’s what makes it weird,” you replied, a soft tease in your voice to disguise the trembling truth underneath as you continued to look at him. Like, really…look. To others, it’s creepy and a little unnerving. But for you? You were just appreciating him. His doe eyes, the long flutter of his lashes, and the gentle slope of his n—

He glanced up now, eyes catching yours, and the look there was unreadable. Careful, guarded. Like, he wasn’t sure what page you were both suddenly on. But it felt like at that moment, you were sure you knew where you wanted to be.

You leaned forward just a little, elbows on the table, fingers grazing the edge of his notes.

“You don’t let yourself rest much,” you said. “Not really. But right now… You look like you can breathe.”

Si-eun blinked, clearly thrown by the tenderness in your tone.

He opened his mouth. Maybe to change the subject, maybe to deflect with sarcasm or just deadpan at you and throw something monotonous and witty—but then he stopped. Closed it again. The moment felt too raw, too vulnerable, and he knew he wasn’t good with moments like these.

Something twisted uncomfortably in his chest. Something new and foreign, and Si-eun doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

Hesitantly, he lets that feeling consume him.

“I don’t know how to anymore,” he admitted quietly. “Breathe, I mean. Not unless it’s for someone else’s sake.”

The words landed between you like a confession. Raw and unguarded. And you blinked slowly at him, as if trying to process the words he just said.

You let the silence settle, not awkward, but reverent. You reached forward, slowly, and placed your hand beside his on the table. Not touching. Just there. Close enough to feel the warmth that radiated off of him. Just close. Close enough to feel the quiet warmth radiating from his skin. There had been no tension before, but now it hummed softly between you, fragile and electric.

And in that moment, you knew everything between you and Si-eun was about to change.

He looked down at your hand that was beside his. He felt frozen in his place, unsure of what to do next.

“You don’t always have to hold everything alone,” you said. “I seriously meant what I said a few weeks ago. You don’t have to go through it alone, Si-eun.”

“I know.”

It was a Thursday.

Nothing remarkable about it, at least on the surface. It was the kind of day that existed simply to pass time, quietly folding itself into the end of the week.

The halls had emptied hours ago. On days like these, students tend to want to leave a lot earlier. Friday was just tomorrow, after all.

But for you and Si-eun, it was just another day closer to getting transferred. To start anew. Or even better, another day wherein both of you could stay longer in Su-ho’s room and do your homework there.

But today?

You woke up feeling different. Not your usual happy self. You figured it was just one of those days where the air felt heavy, and some things around you reminded you of the reality that you lived in. An empty seat beside the door, or the fact that you still held so much concern for Beom-seok.

It made you feel sick.

The entire day went by in a blur, and you just lay down on your crossed arms, trying to cover your ears to subtly muffle the noise around you. Even Si-eun noticed it.

He noticed you.

Your clipped and short answers. Your blank stare outside the window of the classroom. The way you barely touched your food.

So he came up with an excuse.

At the end of the class, he made you sit down with your books while he offered to guide you through your homework. Something about kinetic energy and inclined planes, but your brain was too tired to cooperate. Too full of everything else. Everything unspoken.

Everything you had been holding in was like water behind a dam. Breathing became a chore, and blinking became too tiresome.

You sat together in the corner of the classroom, desks pushed together, books open but long forgotten.

You weren’t sure what was heavier. The ache in your chest or the silence between you. But you weren’t trying to solve the problems anymore, and neither was he. His pencil had stopped moving ten minutes ago when he noticed you were no longer listening and saw the subtle quiver of your lips on his peripheral vision.

You sat in that quiet, not strained, but fragile. And you were the first to shift.

Your hand brushed his, accidentally at first. Then… not.

He didn’t move away.

His hand was warm, a little rough, as if the world had asked too much of him too young. But it grounded you. The moment you felt it, the weight and reality of it? Something inside you cracked open. You hadn’t realized how much you needed something steady until it was there. Until he was there. This... was his way of carrying your burdens, too.

You didn’t say anything.

Words felt like they’d cheapen it.

Instead, you let your body speak the truth your mouth couldn’t form. You leaned, slowly, carefully, until your head came to rest against Si-eun’s shoulder.

At first, he went still. Rigid.

He didn’t know how to do this, how to be this. A safe place. Not when he was used to being sharp edges and deadly intelligence, used to carrying his grief and guilt like armor.

But then you sighed. Barely audible, a breath more than a sound, and something in him shifted.

He let you stay.

He let himself want it.

And in doing so, he finally made peace, albeit briefly, with the storm inside him.

The vulnerability still frightened him, though. That you could see through him like this. That you knew he wasn’t always strong. That there were parts of him still bleeding, still unsure. He didn’t know what this meant, what you meant—but for the first time, he didn’t want to shut the feeling down. He didn’t want to retreat into his silence.

Because you too felt like a safe place for him amidst the trauma that you and he shared.

You made sense in a way that terrified him.

And as he sat there, your head warm against his shoulder, your breaths slowing, your fingers still close enough to find his again if you wanted to, he realized something he hadn’t dared put into words until now.

He didn’t want to let go of this.

He didn’t want to let go of you.

And it scared him more than anything, how right it all felt.

How much the two of you made sense.

Anddd that’s it! Thank you soso much for reaching the end!! My phone and laptop were lagging like crazy trying to edit this so I tried to make it as readable as possible for everyone😭 I went thru about three revisions but if there’s any wrong grammar im so sorry!! dividers by: @/uzmacchiato

242 notes · View notes

bvidzsoo · 1 year ago

Text

Cosmically divine

☆ Synopsis: Olympus, the place where Gods play pretend and do as they wish. Dion, the place where mere mortals suffer and do as the Gods wish. One might wonder, is life ever fair? ★

☆ Author: bvidzsoo ★

☆ Pairing: Ateez members x female reader ★

☆ Rating: nsfw, 18+ ★

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, dark romance, violence, smut, gore

☆ Status: on-going ★

☆ 1. Choi San x female reader ★

༄ ҉ 　Underwater ◖Ares x Naiad Nymph!au◗

Summary: You knew that your love would never be fulfilled as the man you loved belonged to another woman. But can you help your poor Naiad heart when San, the God of war himself, seeks you out again and again when he is most vulnerable?

☆ 2. Kang Yeosang x female reader ★

༄ ҉ 　Marionette ◖Aphrodite!au◗

Summary: Doomed from the beginning, your mother, Hera, only saw a weapon in you. If you had once thought she loved you, she proved you wrong the second she cast you away once you failed to kill her enemy's son. Yeosang, Aphrodite's dearest and most prized offspring.

☆ 3. Kim Hongjoong x female reader ★

༄ ҉ 　Color of love ◖Hermes x Iris!au◗

Summary: If there was a God everyone feared, perhaps it was Zeus. After the continuous abuse he's put you through, you never thought you'd get to live your eternal life peacefully. That is, until the messenger God shows up and whisks you away before Zeus can see and stop him.

☆ 4. Jung Wooyoung x female reader ★

༄ ҉ 　Kingdom come ◖Oread Nymph x Dryad Nymph!au◗

Summary: Nymphs were nothing but deities that preserved nature and allowed the Gods to love them in return for their blessings. And when Zeus lurks around, you are labelled as his, never to be touched by anyone in the whole cosmos. But can you help yourself when the man he claims is Wooyoung himself? The gorgeous and warm-hearted Oread that coincidentally returns your forbidden feelings for him?

☆ 5. Song Mingi x female reader ★

༄ ҉ 　Dead man running ◖Hades!au◗

Summary: You were cursed, at least that's what your family thought about you. After a while, you started believing it too, the shadows that whispered to you convincing you that you were either crazy or just...different. And maybe you were, after all, the God of death himself, wouldn't have just called you his little shadow without a reason, right?

☆ 6. Choi Jongho x female reader ★

༄ ҉ 　Nightmare ◖Phobos!au◗

Summary: Coming from a family that thrived under pressure and mayhem, it was only a matter of time until your father allowed you to join him on the battlefield. But perhaps what set you apart from other warrior families was the fact that each one of you worshiped a God of war. You just happened to make the mistake of offering yourself up to one in exchange for your dear sibling's life.

☆ 7. Jeong Yunho x female reader ★

༄ ҉ 　One Kiss ◖Atë!au◗

Summary: Cast out of Olympus because Zeus has had enough of the mayhem and craze you created amongst men, living and meddling with mortals changed nothing. You thrived off of stupid men falling to their knees and begging you for attention, promising things no mortal could offer. But when a pure, untouched, and unassuming boy might just fall into your trap, you can't help yourself and entice him just to the point of madness.

☆ 8. Park Seonghwa x female reader ★

༄ ҉ 　Moonlight Melody ◖Poseidon!au◗

Summary: You always thought the man of your dreams never existed, would never come and whisk you away from this terrible terrible life that you lived. And perhaps when he starts showing up in your dreams, with promises that he'd soon come and see you, you find yourself hoping for a love that only the stars would bear witness to.

☆ A/N: Hello, my lovelies, I am here with a new story, can you believe it?! Because I can't lol, this wasn't supposed to exist but I thought...why not? Updates won't be too frequent, probably, as I have got quite a few others things to write, but I can't wait for you all to see what I have planned here! ^^ These stories won't be too dark, but I felt it necessary to mention dark romance as we're still dealing with some ambiguous topics. Taglist, as usual, is open and you are all very welcomed to comment on this post if you'd like to be added! Thank you for showing love, support, and interest in my works on here, they mean the world to me! <3 divider ★

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

793 notes · View notes

dakusan · 17 days ago

Note

Hi my Unhinged Queen! I just wanted to share something that happened at work today that triggered my creative brain and would like your take on it.

I asked one of my Lieutenants to help me get down some old toner ink boxes down from the very top shelf in our supply closet bc my short gremlin ass is terrified of heights and the ladder doesn't go up that high (he's a tall skinny dude and my short ass prefers to stay grounded). He was really jokingly sweet about it and kept asking if I needed anything else down from the top shelf since I couldn't reach with my 5 foot height.

How do you think the Skz boys would go about this task? Would they be sweet about it, sarcastic teasing, absolute menace, demand payment in kisses or downright refuse?

Stay unhinged my Queen, hope you have a lovely day!

HELLO SHEERFREESIA007, MY FELLOW GREMLIN QUEEN. this ask? gold. your short queen problems™ have unlocked a whole SKZ HEIGHT DYNAMICS DEEP DIVE. let’s climb into it. (not the shelf. we’re grounded.)

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🧃HOW SKZ HELP YOU WITH HIGH SHELF THINGS (GREMLIN EDITION) ft. your short ass, a ladder of doom, and varying levels of menace.

BANG CHAN – “Safety first, baby.” Immediately concerned. Arms out like you might topple just by looking up.

“No, no, no—get down. That’s a death wish. Let me.” Grabs the box and checks the weight. Gives you a kiss and says he’ll rearrange everything so the stuff you need is lower. Demanding payment? No. But you give it anyway: a kiss, a back hug, your soul.

LEE MINHO – “You rang, shelf goblin?” Saunters in like it’s a game show. Picks the box up with one hand just to be dramatic.

“What would you do without me? Wait, no—don’t answer that. You’d perish.” Demands a kiss. On the cheek. Maybe. If you’re lucky. Then turns and smirks like he didn’t just rearrange the entire closet to keep teasing you for weeks.

SEO CHANGBIN – “WHY WASN’T I CALLED EARLIER.” Absolutely makes this his new mission. Picks you up before the box.

“Let’s just put you up there so you can reach things forever.” You: “BIN—” Also offers to build custom shelving that’s ‘Gremlin-Compatible.’ Demand payment? He wants a protein bar and a forehead kiss. In that order.

HWANG HYUNJIN – “Wait… you were going to climb… that?” Gasps like a Victorian maiden. Pulls you away from the ladder like it’s a demon. Brings the box down dramatically, like he’s performing in a period drama.

“You need anything from the top shelf, you call me. Got it?” Demands payment in the form of “eternal gratitude and maybe cuddles. Or, like, five kisses.”

HAN JISUNG – “Oh no. The floor goblin’s stuck again.” Teasing menace. Will hold the box juuuust out of reach.

“Say ‘please, oh tall and mighty Jisungie’ and I might help.” But if you look even slightly stressed, he folds and gets it in .03 seconds. Secretly rearranges the shelf later with labels like “shortie zone” and “danger: altitude sickness.”

LEE FELIX – “I got you, darlin’.” Australian charm activated. Picks the box down and opens it for you.

“Wanna label ‘em together? I made snacks.” Will also write little step stool instructions if you insist on doing things solo next time. Demands payment? Just smiles and says, “One of your hugs. You give the best ones.”

KIM SEUNGMIN – “You tried to climb that?” judging. Absolute menace. Pretends he won’t help.

“I don’t see the problem. Just grow taller.” But he’s already got the box down and stacked everything else within your reach. Demands payment in suffering. He wants to see you flail and pout before he lets you kiss his cheek like a tsundere.

YANG JEONGIN – “Do NOT touch that ladder—do you want to die?” Baby boy energy but terrifyingly competent. Will get the box and then install a mini grabber hook system for you.

“You’re too short to be unsupervised.” Demands payment in admiration and snacks. Will also make you repeat, “Jeonginnie is my hero,” just for fun.

VERDICT: They will help. But you’re gonna get teased, lifted, kissed, and bullied with love all the way down from that cursed shelf.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

thank you for sharing this glorious mental image. may your shelves be forever stocked with tall men and toner ink 🪜✨

#ask dakusan #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz imagine #skz fluff #stray kids headcanons

61 notes · View notes

icysnails · 2 years ago

Note

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking that because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of their extremely harsh training sessions the reader decides to run away especially after one particularly rough training session where the reader was injured after they accidentally talked back and that night the reader starts packing their stuff but they accidentally left behind their late mother's pendant and Blade found it the next morning. (I hope you're okay with writing this and I wish you a good morning, afternoon or good night ☺️)

Family.

A/n: Hello Anon!! Thank you for your request!! I am so sorry this took so long- school + extracurriculars started so I had way less time to work on writing outside of school (TvT) But this was so much fun to write! I got a little bit carried away and it ended up being a found family type thing with all of the Stellaron Hunters– I tried to focus on Blade being a father figure as much as possible though! I hope you have a fantastic day, and I hope you enjoy!! ૮꒰ ˶• v •˶꒱ა ♡

Warnings: all relationships are platonic, found family trope, betrayal, suicidal ideation (Blade), mentions of death, reader's parents are dead, flashbacks, reader runs away, mention of bullets + broken glass, overthinking, Blade being insecure, reader uses a sword, reader gets injured a couple of times (If i forgot anything, please let me know!!)

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: father figure!Blade x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), mother figure!Kafka x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), sister figure!Silver Wolf x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC)

Word count: 7.3k

Blade is a cruel man.

There is no love in the red pools of his irises, no signs of any humanity. Dark circles adorn the skin just below his merciless stare, eyebrows slightly furrowed in an eternal state of aggravation. It was no wonder enemies cowered at the mere mention of him. He holds nothing back, and if an enemy was unfortunate enough to meet the steely edge of his sword, they were sure to be broken and lifeless by the end of the encounter. Unfortunately, he isn’t much different off of the battlefield either.

Blade is bitter and selfish and cold, to the extreme that even Kafka and Silverwolf are convinced that he has forgotten how to feel.

The thorns of the mara in his veins torment him constantly, the pain never faltering, even after decades. The other Stellaron Hunters had begun to wonder if those thorny, agonizing vines had punctured through his heart as well. It would be understandable, to an extent. After all, he is a man who has experienced endless with suffering and loss, his mind poisoned with grief and the sole desire to die. No more pain, no more fighting, just darkness- the mere thought was enough to drag a bitter smile out of him.

He was used to the dark, used to feeling like an empty vessel.

But why, if he was so familiar with agony, would he impose that same feeling on you as well?

You had always been alone. You were only a toddler when your parents were taken from you, the only proof of their existence being a necklace your mother left with you before she died. You had spent your youngest years void of any parental guidance, hopelessly wandering between foster homes and planets, hoping someone would take you in. You gave that up by age ten, running away from your home planet to travel the galaxy. From that point on, most of your time was spent sneaking onto Starskiffs, hiding in empty cargo compartments on any moving vehicle you could find, and even stealing authorization keys to search occupied space stations, all in search of someone whom you could call family.

But what exactly did the word family mean?

You always thought it was a strange word. It had such a subjective meaning, yet it was talked about so often. You didn’t understand what it meant, and no textbook definition could help you. All your efforts to find its meaning were in vain. And yet, your curiosity haunted you.

With every new destination, the word family buzzed among the crowds constantly. No matter where you had landed yourself, all you could do was spectate. You watched as children laughed and clung to the legs of their guardians, as relatives sobbed in unified grief over flower dressed gravestones, and as teenagers linked arms with each other, growing away from the protective grasps of their parents.

Every planet you traveled to, every dragging, lonely step you took, that sickening, seemingly joyous word that made you feel so isolated was there.

Six months after you had ran away, you went out alone to buy food. It was late at night, and you were preparing to head off to another planet the next day. Luckily, you bumped into a nice shopkeeper earlier who gave you some extra credits because she thought your coat was cool (in reality, she was just worried about you wandering off all alone, but didn't want to pry about your parents' whereabouts). So, you headed out amongst the crowds as you always did, pouch of credits in hand and determination plastered on your face.

But a woman stopped you on the way there and asked why such a young child was wandering around alone at night. She had a little girl with her, who looked no older than you.

She asked you if you had any family she could call to come and get you, with the assumption that you were lost. You couldn't say anything. Instead, you just stared, your wide-eyed gaze pinned on the child that almost mirrored you. Almost. Perhaps if the world were kinder, your eyes could have donned the same innocent, joyful light. One of her hands was encased by her mother’s, while her other hand kindly reached out towards you. A cheerful “hello!” rang through the air as she tried to shake your hand.

You stepped away from her. It was hard to breathe. You had seen all this before. Yet why was it so painful this time?

Internally, you demanded the Aeons to tell you why the truth of your situation had to be rubbed in your face so blatantly. You were alone. You wondered if it might be good to explain that to them, to create some kind of connection with these people, but no words would leave your throat. Your heart felt like it was splintered in two.

You didn’t know how long you stood there staring, but you were sure the devastation tearing you up inside was evident on your face. The woman called out to you one more time, her worry falling on deaf ears as you backed away slowly. You took one more look at the girl before turning on your heel and running as fast as you could, sobs wracking your chest so deeply it hurt.

You hadn’t returned to that planet since then.

You wanted the life that little girl had. You wanted to have a guardian.

But as the years went on, nothing changed. Your travels continued, and you came to terms with the fact that you might never know what family felt like. You made acquaintances as you traveled, friends, even. They never stuck around for long, though. The darkness always swallowed them up one way or another. And with every loss, the painful void in your chest numbed and steeled over a little more.

You thought that your life would always be this way. In truth, you had forgotten that there was any other way to live.

However, that was before a certain group of Stellaron Hunters swept you away from your life of solitude, and recruited you into their dangerous yet thrilling world.

A year later, you found yourself on a sand covered planet. You were on a train, heading to one of the planets' larger cities from a smaller town. There wasn’t any way you walk- it was too hot and the distance was too far. Otherwise, you would have spent your savings on something other than train tickets.

The trip was uneventful and for most of it you just stared blankly out the window, exhaustion and boredom settling in your bones. You were tired from running errands for the previous town's residents- it was onerous but it happened to pay well. Though you were happy to have a break, your mind wasn’t used to the quiet. The barren landscape outside did nothing to help. It was a dry, flat expanse that was dotted only with dead weeds and the scraps of broken automatons. In short, nothing of interest.

Aside from that, all was going well. You had enough credits to last you at least six more train rides and get food and extra supplies, and you had several acquaintances with whom you could stay in the next city. You made a point not to talk about your budgeting skills, as it would usually spur a torrent of questions from whoever you were talking to. You couldn’t blame them though, children your age typically didn’t devote themselves to a life of aimless travel.

The train stopped right on time, and you stepped onto the platform that was crowded with people. As usual, you were met with the sight of teary-eyed relatives hugging each other, children running around and playing, and couples greeting each other. You kept your head down, feeling more inconvenienced than sad. In their excitement, the crowds always seemed to block your path to the other platforms. Besides, they say time heals all wounds, so why would you care, anyway? You awkwardly shoved your way toward a nearby stairwell, grunting as several people bumped into you. Just as your fingers made contact with the stair’s banister, ear shattering sirens echoed throughout the station.

Emergency lights flashed on and off in a blinding rhythm, the red glow engraining itself into your mind. Suddenly, pixelated bullets flew towards the ceiling, shattering several of the glass panels. Screams rang out in response, and the previously happy crowd flew into a panic, ducking to avoid the broken glass. However, the glass shards evaporated into more pixels before they could hit the crowd, preventing any damage from being done.

Amidst the swarms of people trying to escape, you cautiously walked closer to the source of the commotion. You really shouldn’t have, but the nagging curiosity in the back of your mind compelled you to do so. And even if it seemed dangerous, there was something off about this incident. After all, if the initiators were out for blood, wouldn’t they have attacked the crowd directly? If whoever caused this wasn't intending to cause harm, they must be looking for something.

As you got closer, you saw three figures: A magenta haired woman with lightless eyes, a pistol in one hand, and a glowing thread of purple silk in the other. She was leaning back against one of the platform’s pillars, watching the whole scene with fake amusement. The second person you saw was a smaller girl decked out in a myriad of purples and blues, her drill style ponytail swaying as she typed up coordinates on a hologram screen. And lastly, you saw a red eyed man with a glare so sharp it made your heart sink. You certainly did not want to be subject to whatever rage he had stored away. From the looks of it, he could kill you in a split second.

For some reason, all three of them seemed familiar. You couldn't quite place it, but you quickly realized, you knew who they were. Their faces were plastered on all of the IPC’s wanted posters, which were scattered on literally every planet you had been to so far. You couldn’t remember their names exactly, but you knew that, together, they were known as the Stellaron Hunters- the universe’s most wanted criminals. You should have recognized them from the pixelated bullets earlier- how could you have been so naive?

You could have tried to run, but it would be futile. You were already out in the open, and they had already seen you.

Your eyes widened in sheer panic as the man dressed in black set his gaze on your shaking form. There was no way you’d survive this encounter. Absolutely zero chance. He stepped toward you but was interrupted by the sound of a clanging of a spear. The station’s security officers surrounded the Stellaron Hunters, demanding that they freeze and turn themselves in immediately.

You covered your ears and ducked as a fight broke out, the Stellaron Hunters throwing themselves into battle. Your eyelids were screwed shut in fear until the sounds of fighting had ceased. When you opened your eyes, you looked up to see that all of the guards had been knocked out, and that the taller woman standing above you, watching you in a way that was eerie, yet... comforting somehow. Even so, your better judgment caused you to back away, frantically scrambling on the hot cement of the platform. The red eyed man yanked you to your feet before you could stand up, and a panicked noise left your throat as he dragged you toward his two companions. you caught a glimpse of his sword that was poised in his other hand, taking note that he was ready to strike if necessary.

“It’s a kid.” He grumbled, still glaring at you.

The tall woman chuckled and took a step forward, observing the way you struggled to get out of her companion’s grasp. You were getting more anxious by the second, she could tell. No matter how strong and collected you acted, you were still just a kid, and you had the minimal strength of one.

“Let them go, Blade. I don’t think they mean any harm.”

Small, scared breaths left your throat as you were released, your shaking legs failing to hold you up. You fell to the ground, staring in shock at all that had occurred. What would have happened if they didn’t let you go? How much danger were you really in, and how the hell were you still alive?

Then, the monotone voice of the grey haired girl met your ears.

“What a waste. Looks like those signals were nothing but a glitch.” She sighed. “There's nothing for us here.”

The scary man who grabbed you- Blade, as the woman called him- looked down at you crumpled form, eyes softening just the tiniest bit. Your fearful gaze met his, and you didn’t dare move. The two other hunters made conversation about their next moves in the background, while Blade narrowed his eyes coldly.

“Why aren’t you running?”

…What?

“Go. Lingering here will only bring you suffering”

Your fearful gaze then turned to one of confusion. It was unclear if his words were meant to be a warning or advice. Either way, it gave you the strength to pull yourself off the ground and attempt to respond, but all that came out of you was a strangled groan. Your body hurt, and everything had happened so fast that your mind was still trying to catch up. It wasn’t that you were trying to make an impression by staying, you just couldn’t bring yourself to run because of the adrenaline coursing through you. You hunched over and placed your hands on your knees to get your bearings. After a few minutes, you finally responded.

“Y- yeah, I… uh…” You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “...I have another train to catch...?”

It came out like a question, which was unintended. It was the truth, but you were so nervous that you would say something wrong and provoke him. Your life may have been spared for the moment, but they could still change their minds, and you didn't want to re-dig your own grave.

The man beside you let out a small sigh before turning his gaze back to his two companions.

“Fine.” He muttered.

A few moments passed with you and Blade sitting in comfortable silence. or, it was comfortable him, at least. He was still and silent, ignoring you entirely. You just kept fidgeting the whole time, unsure if you should stay or run for the hills. It was borderline suffocating. thankfully, the tall woman came over again, ending your misery.

“Well, we’re off.” She said to Blade, prompting him to walk towards the edge of the platform where the smaller girl stood. Before walking off, she turned to you one last time.

“Take it easy, kid.”

Something in your heart screamed at you to speak up. A strange urge began eating away at you, telling you that if you didn’t do something right now you’d regret it for the rest of your life. But do what? What could you do without potentially dying? It was stupid. And dangerous.

But that old feeling of longing, that desire to be a part of something wouldn’t leave you alone. Your desperation to attain a family of your own had been reawakened. Your undying hope, which laid dormant for years, was now ruling your judgment.

Just as they turned to leave, you stumbled forward and cried out.

“Wait!”

All three heads turned towards you.

A purple set of eyes knowingly scanned you as you trembled, a smirk growing on the woman’s face.

You anxiously gripped at your clothing, trying to summon up the courage to put on some kind of brave face for them. Before you think, pleas for them to take you with them were spilling from your throat. You told them that you wanted to see the universe and that if they gave you that opportunity, you’d do whatever you could to assist them. It was a partial lie- exploring the universe did sound fun, but it wasn't what you were truly after. Your true motivations were far too personal to tell them just yet. It felt like a wound had unexpectedly reopened ever since they arrived, and you were sure you’d crumble if you forced yourself to explain.

Luckily, you didn’t have to. You had the strangest feeling that they already knew your story to some extent. Even without the influence of your longing, you couldn’t deny that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. It wasn’t every day that you came across three highly skilled fighters who could quickly travel anywhere they wanted. You could save years worth of credits and injuries if you went with them.

Once you had finished your frantic explanation, you took a breath to calm your pounding heart. The silence you were met with was deafening, which you took to be a bad sign. A deep chuckle reverberated through the elegant woman’s chest as she took a decisive step closer to you. She hummed in amusement, holding her hand out for you to take.

“You may not be crucial to our mission,” she leaned down to your height, voice almost a whisper, “but if that’s what you want, then who are we to disagree?”

You took her hand, heartbeat slowing to a calm pace as you did so.

The days you spent with the Stellaron hunters were some of the most peaceful days you had ever experienced.

You weren’t constantly slinking around trying to find information and resources for your travels, and it was the first time you had slept in a room that had officially been dubbed as your own. You weren't hopping between inns and the homes of your few friends. Even expenses weren't an issue anymore. It felt strange to have time on your hands. Guilt inducing, even.

You didn’t get too caught up in that though, since the confusion and questions plaguing your mind happened to be stronger than your melancholy. It was beyond your understanding how three of the most dangerous criminals in the entire universe could be so kind and willing to take you in. Perhaps it was because you had seen too much. You were a witness to Blade knocking out over ten armed guards. However, they were so powerful that they seemed to be able to get away with anything. Either way, you were a part of their goup, and that's what mattered.

As time went on, you grew closer to the Stellaron Hunters. Especially Kafka, who you learned was much less intimidating in regular life, and Silver Wolf, who was still as deadpan as before, but seemed subtly happier with you around. You also were officially introduced to Blade, and were promised that he wasn't always so brooding. That was hard to believe, though.

Silver Wolf was like a sister to you. She dragged you with her everywhere. She said it was a part of your duties to accompany her on errands, but in reality, she just enjoyed having you with her. Whenever a battle presented itself, she would have you on the sidelines cheering for her as she obliterated enemies in the blink of an eye. It was clear that your support went straight to her ego, but she also secretly wanted to impress you so that you'd view her as some sort of mentor. Silver Wolf wanted to be a reliable guide and friend to you, especially after you had been alone for so long. Thankfully, you didn’t mind spending time with her. In fact, chatting and playing video games with her became one of your favorite ways to kill time. The latter was clearly her passion– after all, her combat techniques were solely revolved around her exceptional hacking skills.

Silver Wolf taught you how to play all her favorite games, staying calm and patient with you when you kept losing. Often, she would discreetly take you out to arcades during your free time, and every time it would be humbling due to your lack of gaming experience. However, losing meant that you had more time to watch her win, which was never boring. In any other situation, you might have been jealous, but it was just so mesmerizing to watch her play. Besides, she gave you all her prizes, so you weren’t going to complain. But what you found to be even more amusing was watching her lose it over the few games she hadn’t mastered yet. Her face would contort into one of sheer disbelief and anger as she held onto the machine tightly, aggressively mashing buttons and mumbling insults. You would always laugh and try to cheer her up in response. It always gave her a huge ego boost, and convinced her to try again, despite still being angry. You never expected to gain such a dear friend when you joined the Steallaron Hunters, and you wouldn’t trade any part of your friendship for the world.

Kafka was another story, though.

At first, Kafka terrified you. She held so much power over the other hunters- well, really over everything, that you were sure she’d destroy you if you stepped out of line. Her empty eyes and ruthless reputation didn’t help either.

Ever since your arrival, Kafka kept a close eye on you. She made sure that you were alright as you settled in, and that you weren’t feeling unsafe or lonely in your new environment. She offered you comfort and advice and cared for you like the mothers you had witnessed on your past journeys.

One night, a month after you had arrived, you hurt your leg on a walk and Kafka was right there to patch you up. She shushed you gently as you tried to protest that you were fine, and dragged you to the nearest chair so you could sit. She took a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet, and began tending to your wound. You winced as rubbing alcohol combined itself with your blood, and you quietly explained that you had been doing this your whole life- that it wasn’t her job to take care of you. Kafka paused and looked at you, eyes showing a rare glint of sadness. She whispered to you that those days were over. You weren’t alone anymore, and you should ask the three of them for help whenever you needed it. You weren’t a burden to them.

Kafka wasn’t sure what the cause of it was, but something in her chest began to ache when she saw you injured. She had never felt fear before. She deemed it impossible before you came along. She had always been known as a ruthless, unshakeable force of danger, who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. But now, she had to keep you safe. Part of her wanted to berate herself for getting so protective over someone, for willingly weakening herself by caring about you. But you needed safety and a group of loving people to return to. You were just a kid, after all, and even after the short time you had been traveling with them, she had begun to feel like your guardian.

Tears filled your eyes, her words weighing down on your lungs. You couldn’t truly believe her. Not after all you had been through. But even so, Kafka was right in front of you, smiling softly, waiting and willing to take care of you. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It was a foreign feeling, one that scared you more than anything else. But you were safe. You were at home.

So you let yourself cry. Your heart split open, all the bottled up agony from your past finally bursting out. You curled into yourself, the gash on your leg long forgotten. Kafka kneeled before you and gently wrapped her arms around your shaking form. One of her hands carded through your hair, while the other rubbed your back soothingly. Gentle whispers fell from her lips, promising you that she was with you. You were safe.

You weren’t sure how long had passed when you calmed down. Maybe it had been hours. Whatever the truth was, Kafka remained by your side, not pulling back until she was sure you were okay. After you had stopped crying, she leaned back, meeting your sad, exhausted stare. She looked down at your bleeding wound, grabbed a roll of bandages, and cautiously wrapped it around your leg. When she was finished, she smiled and stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. You matched her smile, assuring her that you were fine.

However, after a moment, Kafka’s comforting smile was replaced with a teasing smirk. Confusion sparked in your eyes and your eyebrows furrowed as if to silently ask what the problem was. She just chuckled and took a seat across from you, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head back as though she was assessing you. Her next words not only shocked you but caused your entire being to wilt in annoyance and anxiety.

“I think it’s about time we start training you in combat. If a scrape has you in this much pain, imagine the damage a real battle would do. We can’t have you dying on us, now can we?”

She paused, thinking for a moment before reaching her conclusion.

“Yes… I’ll have you train with Blade. His abilities never disappoint.”

And that was how your ongoing feud with Blade began.

When Kafka decided to pair you up with Blade, you were pissed. However, you knew she was right. If you were falling apart just from accidentally scraping yourself, how were you supposed to handle actual threats? You would be utterly useless in a fight. And if anyone managed to get past the Stellaron Hunters and attempt to harm you, you would be dead on the spot. There wouldn't be a fight, just abrupt darkness, and a very disappointing end to a life such as yours. It would shatter the hearts of Kafka and Silver Wolf, who had already sworn to protect you at any cost. As you got older, the target on your back only became bigger. With the Stellaron Hunters’ reputation becoming more notorious by the day, civilians and authorities alike were bound to find out about you. Self-defense was a necessity.

But Blade never spoke to you. You felt as though you were a nuisance to him. Just another issue to be dealt with, another soul to pester him throughout the day. The way he glared at you made you wonder if you had done something wrong, or if you were imposing by being around. He made you feel out of place. Even after thorough reassurance from Kafka and Silver Wolf that his behavior was entirely normal, you still couldn’t help but worry. It was only after several months had passed that you came to understand that it truly wasn’t you- he was just grumpy. And that began to annoy you. If he wasn’t open to being somewhat nice, then why should you bother? You could glare back just as hard, and ignore him just as easily. If that's what he was getting at, then so be it. However, Kafka was the leader of both of you, and she wanted you to train. Despite your mild hatred of Blade, Kafka already had done so much for you. She only wanted the best for you. You could at least attempt to abide by her wishes.

So you gave in and begrudgingly stated training with Blade.

For a few hours every day, you and Blade would find any open area and he would walk you through different defense techniques. You expected the technical side of it, but you did not expect that you would be sparring right off the bat. On the first day of training, he threw you into your first match and charged at you with the assumption that you had sharp enough reflexes to block him successfully. Obviously, you weren’t at all prepared since you had zero experience with combat. Turns out Kafka really wasn’t kidding when she said Blade knew how to fight.

Lessons carried on like this for weeks. You would return from sparring exhausted and bruised, feeling completely done with everything as you limped to your room to sleep. You felt generally bitter, making it hard for Kafka or Silverwolf to help, and Blade just acted like it wasn’t his problem. The most he did was help you up, and that was only if you put up a good fight. But thankfully, after a while, Blade began to notice how badly the sparring affected you. It wasn’t like you were on the brink of death, but you were still in pain. And given your age, there was no doubt that it was a lot more overwhelming than anticipated. So Blade subtly began to take care of you a little more. It wasn’t much- he mainly just gave you icepacks whenever you needed them and helped you walk, but it was the most he knew how to do. He was clueless when it came to caring for people, especially children.

You were a persistent kid, which Blade found surprising. He thought you would have given up within the first week of training, but you just kept working at it. And while Blade found your stubborn behavior annoying most of the time, it assured him that you had enough courage to fight alongside him and the others. He knew you didn’t like him much, and he knew a part of you blamed him for the injuries you got, which was reasonable. As annoying as you found him, Blade never gave up on you, even when you messed up or got so frustrated that you cried. He never babied you during these moments either. Instead, he would walk you through what went wrong and have you run through the solution until you had it down cold. Even if you were upset, he wanted you to push through it and use your anger to become stronger. You had been fighting your whole life. You had the tenacity and potential to gain the strength that you required. Blade could tell that, even after joining them, you wanted a purpose. You wanted to explore the universe and find your place among the glowing webs of stars. However, the beauty of the galaxy came with dark and unfamiliar territory. If you were to traverse the universe, you had to learn how to handle to darkest parts of it.

Little by little, you improved. You worked as hard as possible until you were able to withstand Blade’s strength and evade his attacks properly. You had a long, long way to go before you could actually defeat opponents, but you could at least hold them off, which was just as important. Despite how grueling Blade’s teaching methods were, you did come to respect him more as your mentor. He looked out for you in his own distant ways and seemed to actually care about you. In truth, Blade had started getting protective over you- not that he would admit it. It wasn’t an overbearing kind of protectiveness- he just wanted you to stay out of trouble. It was nice to pass knowledge onto someone, and protect them from the world's dangers by doing so.

The truth was, even if Blade acted indifferently toward you, he secretly was really proud of you. He admired your kindness, even after all the pain you had been dealt. You kept smiling and picking yourself up, finding your back to the light time and time again. Perhaps that's what made you so different from him. His will to keep fighting was growing fainter by the day.

Even with your differences, you both became closer. Blade kept an eye on you whenever you left the ship, talked with you whenever you got bored, and even helped you whatever chores you had to do. Sure, you were stubborn, but Blade never grew to dislike you. Your relationship felt routine and safe- it held a sense of comfort that felt normal. Blade caught himself questioning if this was what family was meant to feel like. He couldn't remember, but a faint, distant memory assured him that it was. If he could contribute to the familial safety you longed for so much, he would gladly do so.

Was that even possible, though?

Blade had very little experience with love of any kind. Any memories he had of his past friend and family were long gone. His own sense of self was unstable, so how could he provide stability for you? He couldn't bear the thought of causing you pain. Or, there was a chance that he would rub off on you. That you would start to become like him. That prospect was enough to make him feel sick. So he began distancing himself from you in any way he could.

Now, whenever you crossed paths he would treat you especially coldly. Most times he saw you, he walked past you and pretended you didn't exist at all. He was back to being rude and dismissive, even more so than when you first met him.

Instead of encouraging you during training, he would call you weak and pick apart everything you had done wrong. This was not received well by you. After all, you didn’t know if Blade’s behavior was your fault, or if this was just how he truly was. You felt dejected and lonely, even with the support from Kafka and Silver Wolf. Though you loved them immensely, Blade was also someone you cared about, and you didn’t want to lose another parental figure. After weeks of being ignored, hatred replaced any good image you had of him. What used to be a safe, happy friendship soon morphed into an incessant rivalry.

It felt like Blade only wanted to see you unhappy. You imagined that he was secretly gloating over your distress- that you were nothing more than a temporary amusement to him. But you were wrong. So, so very wrong. Blade hated seeing you upset because of him. He was failing you by ignoring your wellbeing. You were just a kid. More importantly, you trusted him.

But it was for your own good, wasn’t it? His past was dark, and perhaps he was too, by nature. He would never forgive himself if he allowed harm to come to you. Even if that meant leaving you behind. No, he would much rather watch you grow up and live happily from afar.

Kafka still wanted you to train though, so Blade couldn’t avoid you entirely. Sparring was the only time he saw you anymore. Your sessions with him were difficult, but not because the material was hard. In fact, it was harder for Blade than you. You would glare at him constantly and show complete indifference to everything, making it nearly impossible to communicate with you. He wasn’t doing much better either- he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you. It felt like the consequences of his neglect were crawling up his back, ready to snap at him at any moment, and he knew that any day now, you would finally break. Soon, everything would fall apart.

You knew Blade was heartless, but his cruelty was amplified when you trained with him now. He went all out, forcing you to scramble for scraps of knowledge he had previously given you to win. But that wasn’t enough this time. You were too tired, physically and emotionally, to continue. You felt smaller and weaker than you had ever felt before.

Lightning-fast blows struck you from all sides, the scent of bloodstained spider lilies clouding your senses. You weakly pulled your sword out of its sheath and tried to block his attacks, but doing so would knock you off balance from the force of his blows. You fell back on the ground, coughing and clambering to your feet, promptly hurling yourself towards Blade with hopes of hitting him just once. Built-up anger from the last few weeks rushed through your heart, tears of desperation dripping down your cheeks. God, you were tired of this. Blade used to be your friend. You wanted to know what changed, and you wanted that piece of your family back.

In your fury, your reaction time fell short. Blade darted behind you and shoved you to the ground, watching coldly as you crumpled over in defeat. A glint of regret shone in his eyes, but he quickly covered it up by turning his back to you. Once more, you picked yourself up, your throat burning from the lack of a break. It must have been hours since the start of your match, but it might have just felt that way because you were the one getting injured. Never before had Blade fought you this hard. You weren’t prepared, and he knew that. You internally questioned if he was actually trying to make you despise him, albeit sarcastically. It hadn’t occurred to you yet that it might actually be the case. You shakily lifted your head to look at him, angrily mumbling something that Blade couldn’t understand.

Blade took a breath and turned around to face you, blank expression unwavering.

“What was that?” He growled. The world seemed to fall silent as you locked your gaze with his in an act of defiance.

“I said, I hate you!”

You hated that you were crying. You hated feeling weak. You hated what he had put you through.

But you didn’t hate him. Not entirely.

You wanted to hate him fully. You wished you were strong enough to. But even then, as you wiped your tears and walked out, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. Maybe it was the memories you had of when he felt like family, maybe it was inherent kindness or just plain stupidity. You couldn’t feel hatred. All you felt was dejection. So naturally, you began spiraling.

If Blade didn’t want you around, there was a chance Kafka and Silver Wolf didn’t want you either. If it was possible that they secretly hated you too, you wouldn’t allow yourself to withstand their rejections as well. You might as well just get out of their way, and save yourself the trouble. It was nice feeling happy for a while. But it wasn’t what you were made for. It wasn’t how you were used to living. Perhaps this was a sign that your destiny rested in the familiar arms of solitude, away from the glowing crowds.

That night, when you returned from training, you bid Kafka and Silver Wolf goodnight and began packing your bags. When you were sure everyone had gone to sleep, you took your leave. You slipped out of the ship’s main entrance, the frigid night air numbing the uncertainty in your chest. You started walking, not sure where you were headed. You were out of practice with your usual travel routines, but that wasn’t important. As long as you were away from the Stellaron Hunters, you would be safe. Lonely, but safe. But even with your half hearted reasoning, you still felt a sinking feeling that this wasn’t right. That you might regret this. You shoved it off, cursing at yourself quietly for getting so softhearted. It was time to cut ties. It was for the best.

However, you had made one vital mistake. While preparing to leave, you had purposely left behind any photos or items given to you by Kafka, Silver Wolf, or Blade. In your rush to leave, you accidentally left behind something incredibly important to you: your mother’s necklace.

You took it off and left it on your desk by accident. It was the last existing link between you and your biological parents and you cherished it because of that. So when Kafka found it the next morning, along with your neatly made bed and discarded photos, she knew something was very wrong. Silver Wolf burst into your room shortly after she found them, questioning Kafka about your whereabouts. She had no answer, all she could do was say she hadn’t seen you. Silver Wolf left worried and agitated, grumbling about how they had to find you. As Silver Wolf left, Blade approached your doorway with the intent of finding you for your training session, because at this point you would have been late. Gripping the necklace tightly, Kafka turned to face Blade. She knew there tension had been growing between you and him for the last month. If he was the cause of your absence, she would not let him get away unscathed.

Blade’s expression was serious, but Kafka could see the glint of confusion in his eyes. He seemed entirely clueless, so perhaps interrogating him wouldn't do much.

“There’s no sign of them anywhere on the ship,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s only this.” Kafka gestured to the thin chain that lay forgotten on your desk. Dread immediately shot through Blade’s heart.

You had left.

And it was all his fault.

He neglected you. You had every right to leave. He was meant to be a guardian to you. It was his job- no, his privilege to keep you safe, and failed to do so. And now you could be anywhere in the galaxy, wandering aimlessly once again. Blade carefully took the necklace, trying to keep his composure as questions and visions of the worst raced through his mind. What if they never found you, or what if you had gotten hurt? What if it was too late, and you were already–

He didn’t allow that thought to finish itself. Catastrophizing would only slow the process of finding you.

But would you even want to come back? Why would you, when you felt unwelcome enough to leave in the first place? And even if, by some miracle, you came back, would you ever trust him again? If you ever granted him forgiveness, would he even deserve it?

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? That was why he pushed you away- so you would leave him alone. You were gone now, and he had gotten what he wanted. Was he truly so terrible that he would still be unhappy, even after he had achieved his desire?

It wasn't meant to go like this.

You weren't meant to leave them. It was his fault though, so maybe it was best to let you go.

Kafka’s piercing gaze bored into the side of Blade's head as she watched the gears turning inside his head. She took a short breath before heading towards the door. She was scared of losing you, and angry that they hadn’t noticed your absence until now. There was no time for emotions such as anger. You were missing. They had to find you.

Blade stood in the center of your room, now entirely alone. The metal of your necklace dug into his skin as he clutched onto it for dear life, his eyes falling to the pictures on your bed. You seemed so happy before. So did Kafka and Silver Wolf- he was happy too, though he was reluctant to admit it out loud. He had broken the loving family you had brought together. A strange family, but a family nonetheless.

Blade kept staring. He wished he could go out looking for you. Unfortunately, wishes are not reality.

Blade would not search for you that day. He would be chained to where he stood, fighting with himself internally as time slipped by quietly. You could have died already. And he was just standing there, staring.

No, he would not look for you.

Because the truth cannot be denied, nor masked with excuses- in the end, Blade is a cruel man.

One who cannot be changed by anything.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #yingxing x reader #blade x reader platonic #kafka x reader #silver wolf x reader #stellaron hunters x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr angst #hsr fluff #blade x you #hsr x you #kafka x you #silver wolf x you #honkai star rail #platonic #angst

1K notes · View notes

positively--speculative · 1 year ago

Text

Please Donate or Share!

Hello I am Ghada Musleh from Gaza (Palestine). I am a university graduate working with young children and women. My husband, Muhannad is a sales representative. My daughter, Gram is 10 months old.

My mother, Fayza suffers from an enlarged spleen and liver is also with us. My mother’s health is declining and she needs to travel for her medical treatment.

I was displaced from the beginning of the war. I remember my displacement from the 10th of October in the ugly schools of the agency, where the bombing intensified around me. I bled out of fear for my infant daughter, who is not experiencing her childhood, and for the tenderness of her father. The displaced were killed in front of my eyes in the schools. A woman in front of me was targeted by gunfire. My family and I were displaced more than ten times from school to school. I saw death with my own eyes. My little family and many civilians were targeted in front of us. I cannot lose sight of these nights when the occupation forces called my husband and threatened my house. Unfortunately, my house was bombed and our memories were bombed. We have nothing left.

I am desperate and urgently need to save my family by leaving Gaza. There is no safe place in Gaza due to death, hunger, dehydration, disease, displacement, and bombings.

HOW WILL THE FUNDS BE USE?

The cost of evacuation is €5000 per person, amounting to €20,000 for the whole family.

€2000 for visa and passport applications and fees to expedite the evacuation process.

€5000 for two months of expenses in Egypt to pay for food, rent, necessities, and medical care until we can get back on our feet and rebuild our lives.

Unfortunately, evacuations have stopped while the Rafah border is closed. We do not know how long this will be. Daily expenses for necessities such as food and water are increasingly high.

Examples of daily essentials:

Flour €30

Diapers €40

Vegetables for a day €40

An amount will go to GoFundMe fees (2.9% + $0.30 per donation), bank transfers, and the high commissions (15-20%) to receive the money due to shortages of cash here in Gaza.

I ask you to support me. To help me and my family escape from Gaza to save them from the ongoing genocide. Every donation, no matter how small will help save my family. Please consider sharing my campaign widely with your friends and family. I will be forever grateful for your help.

Here is the link to https://www.instagram.com/gharam202336/?hl=eng

With eternal gratitude,

Ghada, Muhannad, Gram and Fayza

Funds raised will be transferred to Ghada to cover necessities while in Gaza and to evacuate the family.

#gaza funds #palestine #crowdfunding #boost please

395 notes · View notes

satan-offical · 2 months ago

Note

Hate mail/ Rant

Okay, Satan, Lucifer, Morningstar, Big Red Cheese – whatever you’re calling yourself these days, we NEED to have a serious conversation. And no, this isn't a "wow, you're so edgy and misunderstood" post. This is a dissertation of pure, unadulterated Tumblr rage aimed directly at your pointy little head.

First of all, the aesthetic. Let's be real, the whole hellfire and brimstone thing is tired. It's been done. We're in the 21st century, Satan. Get with the program! I'm talking, like, pastel goth hell. Think lava lamps, but filled with glitter. Think demons in ripped fishnets and platform boots. Think a color palette that's less "burning souls" and more "strawberry shortcake meets the apocalypse." You're a fallen angel, not a grandpa!

And speaking of fallen, what about your social media presence? It's abysmal. You're supposed to be the ultimate influencer of evil, and yet your tumblr feed is just you sibling for jesus and begging for attention. Where's the relatable content? The "tag a friend who's definitely going to hell" memes? The aesthetic vision boards for different levels of eternal damnation? You're missing out on a HUGE opportunity to corner the market on edgy teens.

Don't even get me STARTED on your employee benefits. I heard that soul-crushing paperwork is the only thing that hasn't been automated. The lack of dental is appalling. I mean, seriously, how are your minions supposed to maintain their terrifying grins without a good dental plan? Not to mention the work-life balance. Burning in hell for eternity? That's not sustainable, dude! We need mandatory vacation days and a healthy demon union.

And the music? Oh, GOD, the music. Heavy metal? Really? That’s, like, so 1980s. Step up your game. I’m talking lo-fi beats to suffer to. I’m talking ambient sounds of existential dread. Think Grimes meets Nine Inch Nails meets the sound of a dial-up modem failing. That’s the kind of auditory torture we need in 2025.

Also, can we talk about the patriarchy? Like, seriously, Satan. You're literally running a system based on punishment and hierarchy. It's problematic, to say the least. We need to dismantle hell and rebuild it as a cooperative collective of tormented souls who work together to achieve… I don’t know... ultimate existential peace through crafting personalized torture devices for problematic billionaires? We can workshop it.

In conclusion, Satan, you're failing. You're stuck in the past, your aesthetic is outdated, your employee benefits are garbage, and your entire operation is fundamentally flawed. I'm not saying you need to completely overhaul everything, BUT WE’RE LOW-KEY SAYING YOU NEED TO COMPLETELY OVERHAUL EVERYTHING.

(Lots of love, from-@askangie)

OK HONEY LISTEN UP

1.) really? Pastel goth aesthetics? It's hell, not your hello kitty hot topic fantasies. We aren't making people feel welcome, and your pretty princess vibes won't help with the fear factor.

2.) Says the person currently on Tumblr. Shitty posts and begging for attention? Yeah, do I see you with 1000+ followers? I give my audience what they want, and if you don't like that start your own blog.

3.) "Soul crushing paperwork?" If you're calling two pages daily on the torment done to our citizens soul crushing, I can imagine how you are at work. Get a life and figure out how to properly have a business before you come complaining to me

4.) So you're hating on heavy metal now? Boo hoo, cry me a river. Oh, you don't like the music? Cry about it and live a good life if you want lofi vibes.

5.) Patriarchy? Really? How long have you been following me? Not long enough to know that ONE: I'm a girl and TWO: most of my staff and heads are women. Get a life and wake the fuck up

Before you come complaining to me about my way of business: become an angel, betray god, fall from heaven, start building up a literal society of evil-doers and then we'll talk.

Mic drop.

63 notes · View notes

valkyriexo · 1 year ago

Text

You have a Migraine | Seungmin

ᑉ³pairing; Seungmin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; Reader dealing with a migraine, Pills mentioned

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon! Edited.

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as you lie in bed, cocooned in blankets. But despite the peaceful scene outside your window, there's no rest to be found within the confines of your own mind.

Your temples throb with a relentless intensity, each pulse sending shockwaves of pain through your skull. Migraine days are the worst, and today seems determined to be the pinnacle of that agony.

You try to ignore the pounding in your head, focusing instead on the rhythmic ticking of the clock on your bedside table. But even the steady beat seems to mock you, a reminder of the passing minutes that only serve to prolong your suffering.

With a heavy sigh, you reach out for the bottle of painkillers that has become a permanent fixture in your life. You're all too familiar with the ritual of opening its childproof cap, but today, as you twist it off, your heart sinks.

The bottle is empty.

With a groan, you try to summon the strength to get out of bed, but the pain pins you down like an anchor. Frustration, thick and palpable, mixes with the pain, creating a cocktail of misery that threatens to engulf you entirely. Each attempt to rise is met with a wave of nausea, a cruel reminder of the physical toll this puts on you. The room spins, a dizzying carousel of sensations that leaves you disoriented and defeated.

You clench your teeth, willing yourself to push through the fog of agony that clouds your mind.

Every muscle in your body protests as you attempt to sit up, each movement sending shockwaves of pain radiating outward from the epicenter in your head.

With a final, desperate effort, you manage to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your feet meeting the cold, unforgiving floor below. But even this small victory feels hollow, overshadowed by the relentless drumbeat of pain that reverberates through you.

You close your eyes against the harsh glare of the morning light. But even in the darkness behind your eyelids, the pain persists.

You can't bring yourself to stand, the pain worsening with each passing moment. Doubts gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. Were there even any pills left in the medicine cabinet?

The thought of standing seems utterly futile, a mountain too steep to climb in your current state.

Your mind races, searching desperately for a solution amid the fog of agony. There's only one thing you can think to do. With trembling fingers, you reach for your phone, wincing at the harsh light it emits as you unlock the screen and dial Seungmin's number.

Each ring feels like an eternity, each passing second an eternity of suffering. But then, finally, his voice breaks through the haze of pain.

"Hello?" His voice is filled with concern.

"Seungmin," you manage to choke out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "It's... it's bad. I need... help."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, a heartbeat of uncertainty before Seungmin's reassuring voice fills your ears once more. "I'm on my way," he says, his words a promise of relief.

As you wait for Seungmin's arrival, time seems to stretch into eternity, each moment punctuated by the relentless throbbing in your temples. The minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity as you struggle to hold onto a semblance of composure amidst the storm of pain.

Finally, just when you're beginning to fear that he might not come, there's a soft knock on the door. You struggle to open your eyes, squinting against the harsh light filtering through the curtains. "Come in," you manage to croak out.

It swings open to reveal Seungmin standing on the other side. His eyes widen in concern as he takes in your disheveled appearance, and without a word, he steps forward to wrap you in a gentle embrace.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm against the raw edges of your pain. "Everything's going to be okay."

"It hurts so much, Minnie," you say, tears escaping despite your efforts to hold them back.

"I know, I know," he replies, his voice laced with empathy, his eyes reflecting the depth of his concern.

His eyes scan the room, searching for any way to alleviate your suffering. Spotting the dimmer switch, he stands silently. With a flick of his wrist, he adjusts the lighting, the soft glow casting shadows that offer a respite from the harsh brightness.

Not content with just that, he strides over to the window, pulling the curtains closed carefully. Each movement is precise, deliberate, as he ensures not a single ray of light infiltrates the room. The darkness that envelops you feels like a sanctuary, shielding you from the pain.

As he returns to your side, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, a warmth that eases the chill of pain.

"Better?" he asks, his voice gentle as he takes a seat beside you on the bed, resuming his previous position.

You nod gratefully, the gesture feeling like too much effort.

Seungmin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. He had remembered your preferred medication, and he always keep it on hand, whether in the dorms or car. With a reassuring smile, he hands you a couple of pills along with a bottle of water from your nightstand.

After a few moments of silence, the medication starts to work its magic, gradually easing the relentless ache in your head.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, breaking the silence that envelops the room.

Seungmin turns to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What for?"

"I know you're not really big on physical touch," you explain, your voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry I bothered you with all this."

His expression softens, and he reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. "Hey, don't apologize. I'm here because I want to be. Helping you through this is the least I can do."

As he spoke, your head pinged with pain, every word feeling like a hammer striking against your skull. You wince, from the noise, the throbbing in your temples growing more intense with each syllable.

"I know noise tends to be painful when this happens, and I just want to let you know that I'm okay with sitting in silence, as long as you're comfortable," Seungmin says quietly.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, both from the pain and from the overwhelming kindness of his words. Despite the agony you're enduring, he remains by your side, offering his own version of comfort.

Seungmin's touch is gentle as he runs his fingers through your hair, his movements soothing against your scalp. His fingertips tracing delicate patterns across your skin as if trying to soothe away the pain with each caress. His kisses are soft and fleeting, pressed gently against your forehead and temples, a gesture of comfort and affection in the midst of your suffering.

"Thank you," you manage to murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

He shakes his head, his expression gentle and reassuring. "Stop apologizing. Just rest."

With a nod, you lean back against him and the pillows, finding solace in the silence that descends upon the room. At that moment, despite the pain, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that whatever happens, you will always have him by your side.

398 notes · View notes

xxx-sparkydemon-xxx · 7 months ago

Note

Urgent Appeal We in Gaza are facing genocide and famine. It is horrific, and we need your help for our family. This donation is a beacon of hope, our only lifeline in the abyss of despair. With a heavy heart, I ask for your generosity as we go through this inexplicable ordeal. Your contribution could mean the difference between survival and oblivion for my family, and for that, we are eternally grateful. My name is Mohammed. I was shot by an explosive bullet that pierced my left hand and I need a transplant as soon as possible and to buy medicine. Children Amir, Malak and the family are suffering from malnutrition and anemia due to lack of food, clean water and medicine and they need to buy a tent to replace their destroyed home. "Mohammed, Amir and Malak are not just numbers, they are human beings dreaming of a better future." "Your donation is a new spark of hope for Mohammed, Amir, Malak and their family." "Every donation, no matter how small, will make a huge difference." Please highlight my campaign by donating and reblogging and you can create a post to encourage others to donate Thank you for your constant kindness and compassion in our darkest times.Thank you, our children will be safe and we will never forget them. Thank you..My campaigns were documented by appsa @90-ghoset & @ibtisams"🍉💔🙏#youer

VERIFIED BY @/90-ghost (proof)

PLEASE SHARE THIS FUNDRAISER AND DONATE IF YOU HAVE AT LEAST $5 TO SPARE! EVERY DOLLAR COUNTS TOWARDS SAVING LIVES!

€22,766/€82,000

#signal boost #gofundmes #gfms #palestine aid #donations #pls donate if you can #free gaza #gofundme #free palestine #palestine fundraiser #palestine #mutual aid #vetted

139 notes · View notes

judebelle · 2 years ago

Note

Comforting gavi bc of his injury 🥹

it'll be okay - p.g. x reader

a/n : couldn't find a gif of him in the spain vs georgia match but gavi get well soon!

cw : fluff, angst, pablo in pain, injury, poor medical references, me using my limited knowledge of acl injuries lmao, reader not knowing how to comfort him, swearing, barely edited

wc : 1.6k

pairing : pablo gavi x fem!reader

---

the one game.

the one game you couldn't make it to was the one game that you needed to be at the most.

your boyfriend, pablo gavi, was playing for spain in a euro qualifier. you had an exam that day, so you couldn't be there to support him.

"no te preocupes, baby. good luck on your exam." (don't worry, baby. good luck on your exam.)

that was the last text your boyfriend sent you after you apologized again for not being there for him, even though you were already right outside your exam room.

with his reassurance, you stepped into the room and tried your best on the exam.

you weren't sure as to why pablo had to start for this match. spain had already qualified and he was already overworked as it was, but you didn't question his coach and managers and just brushed it under the rug.

unbeknownst to you, pablo had suffered an injury during the match. as you completed your exam, unaware of the events unfolding on the field, pablo battled through the game with determination. eventually, the fatigue took its toll, and he found himself nursing an injury that would later reveal itself as a full tear of his acl as well as an associated injury to his lateral meniscus.

your absence from the game meant that the news of his injury remained hidden from you, leaving you unsuspecting of the challenges he faced without your support.

you exited the exam hall, confident that your relentless studying had paid off. you opened your phone, intending to message pablo about your exam. you completely forgot about his match until you saw a ridiculous amount of notifications on your lock screen. as you scrolled, your heart sank upon discovering the news. shock and concern shook you as you read the details of your boyfriend's injury.

many reports outlined the severity of the situation, describing how pablo had most likely torn his acl during the match. a wave of guilt and empathy washed over you as you absorbed the gravity of the news. instantly, you dialed pablo's number, desperate to speak with him.

your heart sank at the monotone beeps that met your ear. stupid idea, he wasn't going to pick up the phone when his whole fucking knee was messed up. you realized that you were too far from the stadium to rush over there, so you sent him a few texts notifying him of your knowledge of the situation and made your way to your shared home.

---

you knew that there was not much you could do in terms of helping with the injury. all you knew was that pablo will be gutted when he gets back. you weren't an expert, but you saw the clip of the injury and the tears that spilled from his eyes. this was a serious injury and he would have to sacrifice a good chunk of the season recovering.

that's when a guilty feeling settled in your chest. you would've no doubt, skipped your exam to be there had you miraculously known what was in store for him. maybe if you were in the stands, you would've been able to see if he was okay and talk to him.

as you entered the house, you hurriedly kicked off your shoes and washed your hands, getting the house as comfortable for him as possible. you fixed up the bed, put a few ice packs in the freezer, and started making his comfort foods.

being an athlete means that pablo is always on a pretty strict diet, but you snuck in a few treats in his bed side drawer because you knew he'd need them.

after what seemed like an eternity of waiting and anxious preparing, you finally heard buzzing from your phone.

"hello? pablo?"

you heard a pained grunt and some shuffling before he strained out,

"y/n.."

"oh, thank god you're okay! what's happening? any updates yet? when are you coming home?"

pablo interrupted your rambling with a soft laugh, almost forced, before speaking. "despacio, mi amor," (slowly, my love.)

you pause your tangent, freezing in place and waiting for him to say something. you're about to start speaking again when you hear the front door start to open pablo's voice on the phone.

"i'm home."

---

two men walked beside him in case he needed assistance walking through the front door, but he was more than capable on his crutches. you dropped the phone from your hand as you saw pablo walking in from your place in the kitchen. you rushed over and he sent you a tight lipped smile. he told the two men that they're good to leave, and they did.

you finally walked closer to him, wanting to throw yourself onto him but stopping once you remembered his condition. you huffed in annoyance before ultimately pushing your lips against his fiercely, but not too hard.

he kissed back, but couldn't wrap his arms around you as he needed to hold his crutches to stand. you broke away and looked down at his knee. he was wearing a grey tracksuit, but you could see something under his pants on his left knee, most likely a brace of some sort.

"pablo, you have no idea how confused i am.. what happened? tell me everything!" you led him to the kitchen while walking beside him incase he needed help. he begins to fill you in on how he was challenged during the match and he didn't quite turn right, and his knee was already hurting from the beginning of the match, but they told him to play on.

"they ran some tests. i don't know what the results are yet, but they're quite sure that i completely tore my acl and injured my meniscus. if they're right.. i could be out for around nine months. my season is done.."

you had no idea what exact muscles and tissues and bones pablo was naming, but yo knew that acl injuries were no joke, and needed to be taken seriously. also knowing pablo, he plays passionately and has had a great season so far. the fact that it's being cut short is not fair to him.

nothing is.

"ai.." you hissed sympathetically "well, i don't know much about acl's, but i do know that you need to rest properly. and you being the stubborn man that you are, i will be here to make sure you do exactly that, okay?"

you didn't give him time to respond before placing some plates and bowls on a tray and taking them upstairs, telling pablo to stay put. you hurried back downstairs before helping up the stairs, letting him use the crutches as well.

after a few minutes, he was upstairs and into bed. you sat beside him on the bed, his head turning when he felt it dip.

"i smell food.." he smiles sheepishly as you giggled. he must've been hungry after the match. you lifted the tray from the table beside you and placed it beside him. you placed a pillow under his head, making sure he was sitting slightly upright.

you sat crisscrossed beside him and took a spoonful of a soup you made him, blowing lightly as you smiled at him. he was waiting patiently while looking up at you. you brought the spoon to his lips and tilted so he could sip. you did this until the bowl was empty.

pablo, once again being the stubborn man he is, tried to tell you that he didn't need all the fuss, and that you could relax. well, you were even more stubborn. you let him sip water through a straw before turning on his favorite show on low volume on the tv.

"baby, i don't need all this-"

"shh, just relax, cariño. let me take care of you.."

you layed beside him and moved his head to lay slightly on your chest, his eyes still fixed on the sreen.

you had propped up his right leg, under a spare pillow, making sure to keep an eye on it. the doctors would be doing frequent visits and you were determined to make his healing process as smooth as possible.

"you really are an angel, you know that, y/n?" he looked up at you, the glare from the tv shining in his brown eyes.

"you've only told me that a hundred times, guapo." you leaned down to place a soft kiss on his forehead.

he hummed softly at the contact, needing the relief.

"i just... i wish i didn't have to miss the whole season. i was doing really well.. it's not fair."

"i know it isn't, pablo. if you ask me, you shouldn't have been starting that match. you need your rest, you're still young."

he huffed in annoyance, letting out all his frustration.

the room fell silent, the faint sounds of the show you had turned on filling the air.

"y/n..?" he whispered gently. he sounded nervous.

you hummed in response.

"what if - when i return - i'm not in the same shape that i was.. what if i can't play well anymore?"

his words broke your heart. he shouldn't have to worry about this at his age. you sighed softly, your hand running through his soft locks. his eyes fluttered shut. he always liked when you did that.

"you won't have to worry, baby. as long as you rest properly, and take it easy, you will be fine. the more you worry, the worse it will get. just.. just let me take care of you. everything will be okay. it will fall into place."

his lips stretched into a soft smile, your words calming him. your hand was still running through his hair, making pablo's adam's apple bob up and down.

"i love you." he whispered, his eyes opening to look into your eyes as he said it.

you bit your lip and smiled softly.

he looked so cute.

"i love you too."

you pressed your lips to his again before leaning into each others warmth.

you both drifted off to sleep.

745 notes · View notes

tiredfox64 · 1 year ago

Note

You're Odio sorry on Kuai Liang x reader gave me feels bc I know the feeling of watching someone you have feelings for love someone else, leaving you to wonder what you could've done better to receive their love.

You should do a part 2 where reader finally finds love again and moves on with someone else (Smoke, Syzoth, Kenshi, etc.) which awakens something in Kuai Liang that made him realize that he also loves you but now he must live with his choices?

Recházame

Prior notes: WOAH! Did not expect someone to request something! I’m glad you enjoyed it (I think I hope i didn’t awaken something painful)! Sorry I am posting this late I had classes before and they all have a no technology policy :P so I could not sneak in more work. But I hope this is what you wanted I’m sorry if it isn’t I tried!

Pairing: Tomas x Gn Reader, Kuai Liang

Warnings ‼️: More Angst I fear.

Heartbreak can feel like an eternity. Watching someone you loved for so long be wedded to another. You’re left wondering what you could have done differently. And right now you were sulking in your quarters again with the same thing playing over and over in your head. Seeing Kuai Liang holding and kissing Harumi on their wedding day.

Your sulking was interrupted when you heard a knock on the door. What now?

“Who is it?” You answered back in a strained voice.

“It’s me, grandmaster. You have a visitor. It’s…Tomas.” Your second-in-command answered back.

Your heart stopped beating for a second. Why would Tomas be coming over?

“Bring him in.” You said before wiping your tears away.

They opened the door to let Tomas in. He walked in with a soft expression, as if not to scare you away from talking to him. He had a little box with him. A gift for you. If Kuai Liang couldn’t get close to you maybe Tomas could.

“Hello…grandmaster.” He struggled to call you that. You were his friend but he found it best to stay professional right now.

“Please, Tomas, we are friends. No need for such things.”

Tomas nodded before bringing his attention back to the gift in his hand.

“Oh, I have a gift for you. It’s from Kuai Liang. He said it was-“ He was quickly cut off when you swiped the gift out of his hands, knocking it to the ground.

You really surprised Tomas with that. Immediately you got frustrated with yourself. You cursed yourself for being aggressive with him as he wasn’t the one you hated. He’s innocent in all this and you can’t take it out on him. You took his hand into yours to apologize.

“I-I’m so sorry, Tomas. I don’t know what has gotten into me. Please…forgive me.” You started to silently weep.

Tomas just looked at you with confusion but realized you were in pain. He couldn’t tell where exactly but you were suffering. He pulled you in close and hugged you tight. His hands ran through your hair and he squeezed you with his big, strong arms. The floodgates opened and you started to cry hard. Tomas never pulled back but instead comforted you. And it stayed like that for a while. The rest of the night actually. He made you lie back down in your bed and comforted you to sleep. You cried yourself to sleep in his arms. That was the most peaceful rest you had gotten in a long while. And that’s when the healing process started.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Every week whenever Tomas could he would visit you and your clan. Every time he would ask how you were doing and each time you slowly got better. It was awkward at first because you felt bad for falling asleep in his arms. He didn’t mind at all, it was nice for him as well.

You managed to confess to Tomas that you had feelings for Kuai Liang for the longest time and seeing him with Harumi broke you. Tomas never judged. He understood how love can hurt someone. Make their heart that once held love be corrupted with hate. Without knowing it he was helping to fix your once loving heart.

You two would talk from day to night, night to day. You let your feelings out which was what you should have been doing in the first place. You were just scared to be vulnerable in front of your clan as they needed a strong leader. But Tomas was there to listen to you and never judge what you had to say. All the negative emotions left your body and soon your body was filled with love again. Love not for Kuai Liang but for Tomas. And his heart filled up with love for you.

Your clan was more welcoming to him than they were with Kuai Liang. He made their grandmaster whole again. You smiled more. You laughed more. You even apologized to your clan for being negative which they quickly forgave you. They just want you to be happy now.

It was awkward at first because you both didn’t know how to confess it to each other. You guys ain’t experts in this. But you had to be the brave one and say something. On a night where you two were in your room alone you spoke up.

“Listen, Tomas, I want to thank you again for helping me out. I was in a really bad place and I thought I’d never get out of it.” You said.

“Of course! How could I leave someone as special as you to suffer? I would hate for someone like you to stop being so sweet, precious, dare I say even lovable.” He chuckled softly before placing his hand on top of yours.

Well if that ain’t flirting you don’t know what Tomas was doing. What you do know is that it made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn once again. The hate is gone. There is love once more in you.

You struggled to get the words out. There was no right or wrong way to say how you felt. Words can’t express it but actions could. That’s why you practically threw yourself at Tomas. He was surprised by what you did but before he could ask what was wrong, he felt your lips against his. It was clear as the night sky what this was about. Tomas wanted the same thing so he kissed you back. There was passion and love between you that it felt like he was actually meant for you. It was never Kuai Liang. It was Tomas. Your heart belongs to him now. How sweet of an ending.

Except it isn’t. You may have forgotten Kuai Liang but he never forgot you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Kuai Liang already suspected something was wrong. Tomas was keeping secrets. Even when Kuai Liang sent Tomas over to talk to you he acted like nothing happened when that wasn’t the truth. There were nights where Tomas wasn’t in his bed and would show back up in the morning as if it was all normal. It only got worse after the night you and Tomas kissed. Kuai Liang had no clue where he was going.

The answer hit him like a bullet one night.

Kuai Liang was making sure the Shirai Ryu grounds were safe. He was lost in thought before looking up to the full moon. His eyes widened when he saw something unusual. A silhouette that looked like you. No, not a silhouette, it was you! You were there talking to Tomas.

Kuai Liang was about to call out to you. Say how happy he was to see his best friend again. How he has been fighting to see you again after his wedding. Wonder why you ever turned nasty. But he stopped once he saw something he would never imagine would happen.

He watched as you embraced Tomas and kissed him in the moonlight. Tomas’ hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you close. This couldn’t be right. His brother and his best friend…why is he feeling this way.

Kuai Liang never felt something so painful in his heart. Not even when Bi-Han admitted that he let their father die was this pain in his heart so great. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, and even disgust. Seeing his own brother hide the fact that he was seeing you all this time. How his lips were on yours and his arms were wrapped around you. This had to be some sort of joke. What a sick joke if it was one.

He couldn’t speak. He just stared at you and Tomas making out in front of him. He felt such strange urges. To take you away from his brother right this instant. To push his brother away from you. To yell at you about what you were doing. He didn’t even realize he was grinding his teeth. He just had to walk away at this point.

Even when Kuai Liang went back to the Shirai Ryu temple there was this negative energy going around. A man who never raged like a forest fire was randomly bursting into flames. Patches of fire danced across his skin as he made his way back to his bedroom. Even Harumi was unsure what was happening to her husband. He wasn’t saying a word.

The other clansmen notified Tomas of what was going on with his brother. Even the young Hanzo was confused by the grandmaster’s rage. He went to Kuai Liang’s room which Harumi let him in, leaving the two men to themselves.

“What’s the matter? Why are you bursting into flames.” He asked with concern.

“When were you going to tell me you two were seeing each other? Do you find it right to hide such secrets from your brother.” Kuai Liang questioned with such a cold tone that it contrasted with his fiery outbursts.

Tomas froze up. That’s why he is reacting like that? He knew it was wrong to hide what was going on but he was simply protecting you. You were the one who was hurting the most to the point you changed in a negative way.

“I would have told you when they were ready.” Tomas responded.

“I sent you over to speak to them. I sent a gift. What ever happened to the gift, huh?!”

“They didn’t want it! That doesn’t mean they hate you. I’ve been helping them-“

“Kissing is helping? The man I trusted the most goes around kissing someone I love as if you truly love them.” Kuai Liang didn’t even realize what he said, but Tomas did. That’s why he grabbed his brother by the arms.

“I do love them! And your love belongs to your wife, remember?” Tomas responded which made Kuai Liang’s blood run cold.

That’s right. His wife Harumi. The one he ran to in a time of need as if she were the only option. Never even thinking of you as an option. And now he wants to see you as an option? When someone else has your heart and healed it?

Tomas let go of his arms before walking out of the room. That whole confrontation only fanned the fires and Kuai Liang is left to his own mind. A mind that festered with the thought of what you and Tomas were doing all this time.

Did he kiss you all the time? Does he hold you close? Was he with you on those nights when Kuai Liang couldn’t find them. Where had his lips been? Was Tomas your first in bed!? Oh heavens! He couldn’t stand the thought of that being true.

Tomas could never treat you right. He could never kiss you in such a way that would make you giggle or blush instantly. He could never make you smile just by picking you up and twirling you around. His hands could never make you feel wonderful things in the dead of night before caressing you to sleep. Kuai Liang felt like the only person who could ever do that was…him.

What was wrong with him? He’s married now. You’re in a relationship. This is just wrong. It’s all gone wrong.

He loves Harumi, he would never think about being unfaithful. But it was only now that he realized he loves another. It was you.

Kuai Liang could never rip you away from Tomas. He’s seen that there is chemistry between you and him. It would be wrong of you to be unfaithful as well. So what can be done? Well, you must reject each other. You can’t accept each other’s love. Especially now when your love for him may be gone already. It hurts but he must accept the pain. If he carried on with it he will end up suffering, and in a way so will you.

You love another, no more hatred. Kuai Liang will have to live with his decision. He wasn’t wrong or right. Neither were you. It’s just how love works.

After notes: Once again sorry if this ain’t what you wanted, I did my best. I’m not the best at angst for this was my first go. I didn’t even have a part two in mind but my brain went into overdrive when I saw the idea. Anyways thanks for the request! Adiós!

243 notes · View notes

rainforestakiie · 7 months ago

Note

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ll leave you be now. Thank you!

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

Shut Down

Part 01 - Part 02

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Adam,” Emily began, her voice soft.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adam didn’t respond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~#~

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

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

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

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

Adam paused, glancing up at the fallen angel’s sharp, smouldering gaze. “Ask about who?”

Teeth clenching, the muscles in Lucifer’s jaw tightening.

“Lilith,” he hissed. “Aren’t you even the least bit curious?”

Adam blinked; his expression impassive. “No.”

He shrugged, setting the scroll on the obsidian table between them. “I don’t care enough to ask.”

The casual dismissal hit Lucifer like a slap. He rose from his throne, his wings flaring slightly, casting long, jagged shadows against the flickering walls. “You insufferable, self-righteous—”

“Are we doing this or not?” Adam interrupted, his voice carrying the faintest edge of impatience. He gestured to the paperwork. “I’ve got things to do. If this isn’t a good time, we can reschedule.”

Lucifer’s fingers curled into the armrests of his throne, his claws scraping the iron. His golden eyes narrowed, burning with a fury Adam didn’t bother to acknowledge. Finally, with a sharp click of his tongue, Lucifer hissed, “You’re really pissing me off, Adam.”

Adam didn’t even flinch. “Then perhaps we should—”

Before he could finish, Lucifer disappeared in a flash of golden flames, the heat licking at the edges of Adam’s sleeves. Adam sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Dramatic as always,” he muttered under his breath. He gathered his papers, turned on his heel, and left.

The next meeting was quieter. No jabs. No sharp comments. Lucifer lounged on his throne, his usual smirk absent, his posture uncharacteristically tense. Adam wasted no time getting to work, spreading the golden parchment Sera had drafted across the table.

“The contract outlines an extermination of souls to ease overcrowding,” Adam began, his tone monotone. “Heaven has already approved—”

“She left,” Lucifer said suddenly, his voice soft but strained.

Adam didn’t stop, his eyes scanning the contract as if he hadn’t heard.

“Lilith,” Lucifer continued. “She’s gone. Just got bored of me, I suppose.”

His tone was bitter, but there was an undercurrent of something raw beneath it. “She didn’t say much. Just… left.”

Stiffening, the faintest twitch betraying the crack in Adam’s mask, but he kept talking. “The terms are standard. A simple signature will—”

“She said I wasn’t enough,” Lucifer said, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper. His golden eyes were fixed on Adam, searching, waiting for something—anything—to flicker across his face.

Adam sighed, setting the parchment down. He finally met Lucifer’s gaze; his expression still as unreadable as stone.

“What does this have to do with the contract?” he asked, his voice flat. “The quicker you sign it, the quicker this is over.”

Eyes flickering with anger and something else—hurt, maybe. Lucifer stared at the golden parchment, his lip curling in disdain. “I won’t sign it.”

Adam’s patience was thinning. “Neither of us wants to be here, so—”

Lucifer’s bitter laugh cut him off. “That’s funny. Because I do want to be here.”

Raising an eyebrow at that, genuinely surprised for the first time in a long while. But Adam recovered quickly, his tone slipping back into its formal detachment. “Very well, Your Majesty—”

Chair screeching as Lucifer shot to his hooves, fire erupting around him.

“Call me by my name!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber like thunder.

Adam stared up at him, unimpressed. “You are the King of Hell,” he said flatly.

Slamming a fist against the table, the impact sending cracks spidering through the obsidian.

“Don’t play this game with me, Adam!” Lucifer snarled. “You know who I am! I’m Lucifer! Lu-ci-fer!”

Adam didn’t flinch. His expression remained blank, disinterested, even as Lucifer’s fury blazed hotter.

“You were my friend once!” Lucifer bellowed, his eyes flaring blood-red, his horns curling upward as if they were reaching for the heavens. “Do you even remember what that means? Do you remember us? Do you remember Eden?”

Folding his arms, Lucifer’s gaze cold and unmoved.

“Eden?” he repeated, his voice like a dagger wrapped in frost. “Never heard of it.”

Lucifer’s wings flared wide, and his voice rose to a near scream. “It was our home! Our home! You and I—we in it together! We were supposed to be everything!”

Meeting his blood-red gaze without a hint of fear, Adam’s tone colder than Lucifer’s fire was hot. “And yet here we are.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Lucifer’s chest heaved, his fiery aura flickering, but Adam remained still, a glacier unmoved by the storm.

Lucifer sank back into his throne, his horns receding, his eyes dimming. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Adam picked up the parchment, holding it out. “The contract, Your Majesty.”

Glaring at him but said nothing. The fire in Lucifer’s eyes burned low, smouldering with something heavier than anger.

He didn’t sign it that day.

~#~

The air in Hell’s grand hall was heavy with tension as Adam entered again, his steps slow and deliberate. Lucifer was already lounging on his throne, one leg crossed lazily over the other, his golden goblet glinting in the dim light. The contract lay untouched on the obsidian table between them, just as it had been at every other meeting. Adam’s eyes barely flicked toward it before he set his jaw and approached.

“Your Majesty,” Adam began, placing another copy of the parchment before Lucifer. “The extermination initiative—”

Waving a dismissive hand, cutting him off. Lucifer sighed. “Let’s not start with all that boring drivel, Adam. I’ve got time today. Do you?”

Exhaling quietly through his nose, a faint tick betraying his irritation, but Adam maintained his calm façade. “The contract—”

“Do you really not care about Eden anymore?” Lucifer asked, his voice softer now, almost wistful.

Pausing, Adam’s fingers twitching as they hovered over the document. Slowly, he looked up. “Eden is… irrelevant to the matter at hand.”

Laughing softly, the sound carrying a strange mixture of bitterness and fondness. Lucifer smirked, “Irrelevant? You loved Eden, Adam. I remember how your eyes would light up when you showed me your latest discoveries. Every new flower, every creature, every little thing—it was like seeing the world through your eyes for the first time.”

Adam’s expression didn’t waver, though his grip on the parchment tightened ever so slightly. “If you’re not going to sign the contract, we can—”

“You used to drag me all over that garden,” Lucifer continued, ignoring him entirely. His eyes glimmered with distant memories, glowing red and gold as he stared through Adam like he was looking at a ghost. “You’d get so excited whenever I came to visit. Remember? You’d grab my hand and pull me to show off some ridiculous little plant or how you’d taught a bird to sit on your shoulder.”

Adam’s voice was as flat as stone. “I don’t recall.”

Lucifer grinned faintly, his eyes narrowing with amusement, though there was a flicker of frustration behind them. “Don’t recall? I spent days with you at the beginning—night and day, making sure you didn’t poison yourself or drown yourself.”

He leaned forward, his voice warming. “You were so innocent. So sweet. So… human.”

“I’m still human,” Adam replied coolly, adjusting the golden feathered quill in his hand. “And this is still a waste of time. If you won’t—”

Gaze sharpened, Lucifer’s grin growing wolfish. “I taught you how to care for wings, remember? You surely used my technique on your wings?”

His tone turned teasing. “You couldn’t stop touching mine, asking a million questions. You were obsessed with the way they shimmered in the sun.”

Adam’s golden wings shifted slightly behind him, but his expression remained frozen.

“Sera taught me to care for my wings,” he said curtly. “I don’t remember an angel in Eden. Certainly not one who would let me touch their wings.”

The shift in Lucifer’s demeanour was immediate. His face darkened, his lips twisting into a sour frown. His gaze bore into Adam, intense and almost pleading, but Adam didn’t flinch.

“I was in Eden,” Lucifer snapped, his voice low and sharp. “I was your archangel. Your guardian. How can you pretend I wasn’t there?”

Shrugging, Adam’s tone dismissive. “Because you weren’t?” He said it like he was explaining something to a particularly slow child.

Lucifer bristled, his wings flaring slightly as the temperature in the room spiked. His claws tapped rhythmically against the armrest of his throne.

“Then how,” he hissed, his voice dangerously quiet, “Did you get that scar on your thigh?”

Adam’s composure faltered, just for a fraction of a second. His eyes flicked to Lucifer, then down to the table, before settling back on the contract. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Inching forward, Lucifer’s fiery gaze locking onto Adam like a predator cornering its prey.

“Yes, you do,” he said, his voice low and insistent. “You fell down a cliff. Scraped your leg open on a jagged rock. I was the one who healed you.”

His voice rose slightly, tinged with anger. “Do you remember that, Adam? Your first taste of pain?”

Adam’s jaw tightened, but he kept his tone neutral. “I don’t remember falling,” he said simply.

Lucifer’s wings flared wider, his patience fraying.

“You cried for hours!” he snapped. “You couldn’t understand what had happened to you, why you were bleeding, why it hurt. I carried you back to the spring and healed you myself.”

His voice softened slightly, almost pleading. “You trusted me, Adam. Do you really not remember?”

Adam finally looked up, his face impassive but his eyes faintly cold.

“I remember plenty,” he said flatly. “But not you.”

Recoiling slightly as if the words had struck him. Lucifer’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw clenching as his fiery gaze bore into Adam’s unflinching mask.

For a long moment, the hall was silent, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then Lucifer leaned back in his throne, his expression twisting into something bitter and raw.

“Of course,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why would you?”

Adam picked up the quill again, his focus returning to the contract. “If you’re done reminiscing, perhaps we can proceed with the matter at hand.”

Lucifer didn’t respond. His wings folded tightly against his back, and he stared at the parchment with a glare that could melt stone.

He didn’t sign it. Again.

~#~

The grand hall was eerily silent when Adam entered, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor. Lucifer was already there, sprawled across his throne with a confidence that felt exaggerated, almost theatrical. The obsidian table between them bore the familiar contract, but Adam didn’t bother expecting progress. He strode forward, his demeanour calm and professional, placing the golden quill beside the parchment before sitting down.

“Your Majesty,” Adam began, his tone flat and businesslike, “the extermination contract. Heaven’s representatives are still awaiting—”

Lucifer cut him off with a gleeful chuckle, leaning forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, Adam, must you be so boring every time? We have centuries together, yet you insist on skipping the pleasantries.”

Adam blinked slowly, unimpressed. “Pleasantries won’t sign the contract.”

Ignoring the quip, Lucifer’s grin widening like a Cheshire cat’s. “Let’s talk about something more interesting—like Lilith.”

Adam’s expression didn’t flicker, though he adjusted his posture slightly, folding his hands in his lap. Lucifer took the silence as an invitation to continue, his voice practically dripping with smugness.

“You do remember Lilith, don’t you?” Lucifer asked, his grin sharp and mocking. “The first woman? Your first wife?”

Adam tilted his head, a faint crease forming between his brows as though he were searching his memory.

“I remember… another woman,” he said slowly, his tone detached. “But I can’t say what her name was or why she left. If she did leave, though, I suppose it was for the best.”

Freezing, Lucifer’s smirk faltering. “For the best?” he echoed, his voice incredulous.

Adam shrugged. “I don’t even remember her, so she mustn’t have been very important.”

The words struck Lucifer like a slap, and his smugness dissolved into irritation. His wings twitched, his claws tapping against the armrest.

“She was important,” he snapped. “She left because of you. You were cruel to her, dismissive, demanding—don’t you remember what you put her through?”

Adam looked at him evenly, his face an unmoving mask of neutrality. He waited for Lucifer’s rant to burn itself out before cocking his head slightly, as though observing a child mid-tantrum.

“Are you finished?”

Lucifer blinked, his eyes wide and uncharacteristically unsure. He slumped back into his throne, glaring at Adam. “Do you really not feel anything for Lilith?”

Adam shrugged again; his expression unreadable. “Obviously not. I don’t even remember her.” He paused, tilting his head. “You mean the queen, right?”

Lucifer nodded stiffly, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then no,” Adam continued smoothly, “I don’t remember meeting the queen before these meetings.”

Lucifer let out a frustrated huff, but his eyes betrayed something deeper—a flicker of desperation, perhaps. He leaned forward again, his voice softening as he pressed on.

“Lilith and I… we spent so much time together in Eden. Sneaking around, giggling, learning, experiencing everything for the first time.” His tone turned smug again, though there was a nervous edge to it. “We had so much fun, Adam. You… must remember that?”

Adam sighed, shifting his weight slightly. “I really don’t care what the king did with his queen. It’s not my concern.”

Lucifer bristled, his wings flaring slightly. “Of course it’s your concern! She was your wife!”

Adam frowned, his brows knitting together as though trying to make sense of the words.

“Are you even listening to yourself?” he asked, his tone flat and almost bored. “If what you’re saying is true, then you haven’t been much of a friend.”

Lucifer stiffened, his smug demeanour cracking. “What do you mean?”

Adam rolled his eyes slightly, twirling a finger in the air as if outlining the obvious. “Let’s say, for your sake, that your story is true. You just admitted to me that you—my supposed best friend—went out of your way to teach me betrayal. To show me what it felt like to be cheated on.”

He paused, his tone utterly devoid of emotion. “Imagine. My wife and my best friend.”

Lucifer sat in stunned silence, the words visibly sinking in. His claws dug into his knees, his wings trembling slightly as he stared at Adam with wide eyes.

“That’s… the truth,” he murmured finally, his voice quiet and almost hollow. “I’m a terrible friend.”

Adam’s gaze didn’t waver. “But hey,” he said dryly, “None of that actually happened, so who cares?”

Lucifer’s head snapped up, his golden eyes blazing. “It did happen!” he hissed. “And it should matter!”

Adam shook his head, his expression calm and disinterested.

“Not to me.” He pushed the contract forward again. “Now, about the extermination initiative—”

Lucifer ignored the parchment entirely, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and something else—something fragile.

“Did you… really hurt her?” he asked softly. “Like she claims?”

Adam looked at him sharply, his brows raising in faint disbelief.

“You know,” he said slowly, “for someone who claims to be my best friend once, to have known everything about me, you should already know the answer to that, shouldn’t you?”

The words hit Lucifer like a physical blow. He stiffened, his claws digging deeper into his knees, his wings shuddering as the weight of Adam’s words sank in. For a moment, he looked almost small, his fiery arrogance dimming.

Adam waited a beat, then tilted his head, his tone turning brisk and professional again. “Are you ready to focus on the contract now, Your Majesty?”

Lucifer didn’t respond, his wide eyes fixed on Adam as though searching for something—anything—beneath his impenetrable mask. But Adam simply stared back, calm and unmoved, until Lucifer finally slumped back into his throne, defeated and silent.

He doesn’t sign the contract then either.

~#~

Adam sat across from Sera in Heaven’s towering council chamber, his face calm but his wings faintly drooping with frustration. She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, her eyes sharp as they bore into him.

"Adam," Sera began, her voice firm. "Why is this taking so long? The extermination contract should’ve been signed weeks ago."

Adam sighed, running a hand through his golden hair. "The King is being... difficult."

Sera raised an eyebrow, motioning for him to elaborate.

"He keeps wanting to go down memory lane," Adam said, his tone flat. "It’s always something about Eden, or Lilith, or Eve. He’s fixated on the past, and it has nothing to do with the task at hand."

Sera leaned forward, her tone clipped and impatient. "Then give him what he wants. Humour him. Anything to get this over with."

Adam frowned, crossing his arms. "I’m not going to play his games, Sera. This is about Heaven’s decree, not indulging the King of Hell’s nostalgia."

Sera huffed, but didn’t press further. She dismissed him with a wave, muttering something about how things always became messy when the traitor was involved. Adam left the chamber with his shoulders squared, but the weight of her impatience still lingered as he prepared for yet another meeting.

The grand hall was quieter than usual when Adam entered for his next session with Lucifer. The atmosphere felt heavier, and it immediately struck him that Lucifer wasn’t his usual smug self. Instead, the King of Hell sat slumped on his throne, his golden eyes dim, his expression unreadable.

Adam hesitated briefly before walking to the table and unfurling the parchment.

"Your Majesty," he began in his usual calm tone, "I’ve revised the extermination proposal to address—"

Lucifer raised a hand, cutting him off. For a moment, he simply stared at Adam, his cheek resting on his palm, his expression weary. Then he spoke, his voice soft and almost sorrowful.

"Do you know about Eve? About what I did?"

Adam’s pen paused mid-motion, but he didn’t look up.

"It doesn’t matter," he said simply, returning his attention to the parchment. "Let’s focus on the contract."

Lucifer exhaled sharply through his nose, sitting up straighter.

"I’m worse than a bad friend," he said bitterly. "I’m a scumbag."

Adam finally looked at him, his brows knitting in faint confusion. "What are you talking about now?"

Lucifer’s claws tapped against the armrest of his throne, his gaze hardening. "The apple…The apple of knowledge. I gave it to Eve. And afterward… I had sex with her."

Adam’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he clicked his tongue. "This means nothing to me. Why are you so keen to tell me these stories?"

"They’re not stories," Lucifer snapped, leaning forward. "They happened. And they should matter to you!"

Adam shrugged helplessly. "They don’t. I only care about the contract."

Lucifer ignored him, his voice growing louder, more desperate. "I lured Eve to the tree. Told her about the world outside Eden. Told her she was Heaven’s puppet. I offered her freedom. I offered her the apple, and she was so eager to take it. And after—"

"Your Majesty," Adam interrupted, his wings shifting as he let out a deep, weary sigh. "Please. Can we just get back to—"

Lucifer slammed his fist on the armrest, his voice trembling. "I betrayed you, Adam. I betrayed you in every way possible."

He rubbed his face, his claws dragging over his skin. His voice cracked as he went on. "I didn’t just betray you with Eve. I betrayed you with Lilith, too. I helped her cheat on you—with me. Your best friend. Your guardian angel."

Adam’s expression didn’t waver, but his chest tightened painfully at the words. He kept his face blank, refusing to let any emotion show.

Lucifer laughed bitterly, his hands trembling as he looked down at them. "I should’ve known it was all lies. The moment Lilith told me you were hurting her, bossing her around—I should’ve known. You wouldn’t even know how to do that. You were pure, untouched by sin. There were no sins in Eden."

He looked up at Adam, his golden eyes glassy. "And I failed you. I failed as your friend, as your guardian angel. I believed her lies because of my own pride. I didn’t question her. I didn’t think. I just… gave in."

Lucifer’s voice dropped to a whisper, filled with shame. "I stained you with Lilith. I stained you with Eve. I stained everything I touched. I’m a terrible friend, Adam. A terrible guardian. And I’m so sorry."

Adam’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to remain still. He wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but he wouldn’t allow himself to break. He cleared his throat softly and said, "If I accept your apology, will you be serious?"

Frowning, Lucifer’s wings shifting uneasily. "I am being serious."

Shaking his head, Adam gestured to the parchment between them. "Then sign the contract."

Lucifer’s expression darkened, his sharp teeth bared as he hissed, "Is the contract all you care about?"

"Obviously." Adam snorted softly.

Lucifer let out a growl, his claws digging into the table. "I’ve had enough of this game, Adam! I get it, okay? I’m a shitty angel. A shitty friend. Just… shitty in general. But come on!"

His voice cracked, and his wings drooped. "Enough’s enough!"

Adam didn’t react to Lucifer’s outburst, his face calm and dull. He leaned back in his chair, waiting for the storm to pass.

Once Lucifer’s anger burned itself out, he slumped in his throne, staring at Adam with wide, almost pleading eyes. Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Finally, Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, quiet and trembling.

"Do you seriously not care about anything?"

Adam looked at him steadily. "I care about one thing."

Lucifer’s face fell, his shoulders slumping further.

"It’s not the contract," he muttered bitterly. "You don’t care about the contract."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "What do you want, then?"

Lucifer’s golden eyes glistened as he stared at Adam, his voice breaking. "I want you, Adam. I want my Adam back."

Adam rolled his eyes, his tone flat. "You are acting childish."

Lucifer shook his head, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I know I’ve fucked up. I know I have a lot to make up for. But please… please, Adam, stop this game. It’s killing me."

Adam said nothing, only pushing the contract forward again. Lucifer stared at him for a long moment before golden flames erupted around him, and he disappeared without another word.

Adam sat alone in the grand hall, his chest tight, his wings heavy. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. Then, with a shake of his head, he rose and left the room.

Adam barely made it to the quiet sanctuary of his chamber before the dam broke. As soon as the heavy door shut behind him, sealing him off from the endless corridors of Heaven and the prying eyes of the angels, he crumpled to his knees. His wings drooped low, their golden feathers dragging against the pristine floor.

The first sob escaped his throat before he could stop it. It was raw, ugly, and filled with years of pain he thought he’d buried deep enough to forget. But Lucifer’s words from their meeting echoed endlessly in his mind.

"I failed you."

"I betrayed you."

"I stained everything I touched."

Adam clutched at his chest, his fingers curling into the fabric of his robes as though trying to dig out the ache that burned there. It hurt—a deep, soul-crushing hurt that he couldn’t suppress anymore.

Lucifer’s confessions had ripped open old wounds Adam hadn’t even realized were still there. He didn’t want to care, didn’t want to feel anything for the King of Hell. But hearing Lucifer lay himself bare like that—seeing the raw guilt and sorrow in his golden eyes—it was unbearable.

Memories flooded his mind, unbidden and sharp. He remembered Lilith’s laughter, her soft voice, the way she used to press her hand to his chest as though she could feel his heartbeat. He remembered the warmth of Lucifer’s wings as they shielded him from Eden’s rains, the way the archangel had always been there to steady him when he stumbled.

And then, he remembered the betrayals. Lilith’s coldness as she left him for Lucifer. Lucifer’s smug grin the first time he had bragged about it. Eve’s wide, curious eyes as she stepped closer to the forbidden tree, her hand reaching for the apple.

Adam’s sobs grew louder, shaking his entire body. His wings twitched and trembled, the golden feathers ruffling as though they shared his pain. It wasn’t just the betrayals that hurt. It was the weight of it all. The weight of knowing he was supposed to be the first, the purest, the perfect creation. And yet, all he’d ever was a pawn in someone else’s games.

His fists slammed against the floor, the impact sending dull echoes through the room.

"Why?" he choked out, his voice thick with tears. "Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?"

He hated Lucifer in that moment. Hated him for dredging up the past, for forcing Adam to remember things he didn’t want to remember. But more than that, he hated himself for still caring.

“Why couldn’t you have just gone alone with the game?”

The tears wouldn’t stop. They poured down his face, soaking the floor beneath him as his sobs wracked his body. He felt raw, exposed, as though every part of him had been torn open and left to bleed.

How much longer could he take this? How many more meetings could he endure before he shattered completely?

He pressed his forehead to the cool floor, his wings splayed out around him in a mess of gold and white.

"It’s too much," he whispered brokenly. "I can’t… I can’t do this anymore."

But he had to.

Sera was counting on him. Heaven was counting on him. And no matter how much it hurt—no matter how much Lucifer’s words ripped him apart—Adam couldn’t let them see him falter.

After what felt like hours, his sobs began to quiet, though the ache in his chest remained. He wiped at his face with shaking hands, his movements slow and deliberate as he tried to compose himself.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs weak and unsteady beneath him. His wings twitched, and he forced them to fold neatly behind his back, though the effort made his muscles ache.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room. His eyes were red, his face pale, and his hair dishevelled. He looked like a man on the brink of breaking.

But he couldn’t break. Not yet.

Straightening his robes, Adam took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He wiped the lingering tears from his face, forcing his expression back into the calm, stoic mask he’d worn for so long.

The pain was still there, sharp and suffocating, but he shoved it down. He had a job to do.

His pain could wait.

~#~

The moment Adam stepped into the throne room, he knew something was…off. Lucifer was sprawled sideways across his throne, one leg dangling over the armrest, and a half-empty bottle clutched loosely in his hand. His grin was wide and childlike, eyes half-lidded and gleaming with a mischievous light.

"Adam!" Lucifer exclaimed, his voice slurring slightly as he waved the bottle in greeting. "It's been forever!"

Adam stopped in his tracks, his wings twitching behind him.

"It’s been three days," he said, frowning.

Lucifer cackled, the sound rich and full, echoing in the cavernous space. "Forever!" he insisted, dragging out the word as he swung his legs around to sit upright—barely. He swayed dangerously and only just caught himself on the arm of the throne.

Adam’s eyes narrowed. "Are you… drunk?"

Lucifer gasped theatrically, clutching his chest like Adam had just stabbed him. "Me? Drunk? How dare you insinuate such a thing, Adam!"

He tried to look offended but immediately broke into a wide grin. "Okay, maybe just a little."

He held up his fingers, barely an inch apart.

Adam stared at him, baffled. He’d never seen anyone drunk before, let alone Lucifer in such a state. Heaven didn’t have alcohol—there was no reason for it. And yet, here was the King of Hell, giggling like a child and swinging a bottle of what smelled suspiciously like something sweet and fermented.

"Your majesty," Adam began cautiously, "We have business to discuss. This contract—"

"Business, business, business!" Lucifer interrupted, waving his hand dramatically as if to physically push Adam’s words away. He sat up straighter—or tried to—and pointed at Adam with the neck of the bottle. "You’ve got to read it to me! I wanna hear your angel voice say all those long, boring words. It’s so cute!"

Adam blinked. "You want me to read—?"

"Yes! Read it! Read it!" Lucifer chanted, giggling uncontrollably.

Sighing, Adam unrolled the parchment and began to read aloud, his voice even and measured. But every time he said something particularly formal or legal-sounding, Lucifer erupted into giggles, his hand covering his mouth like a mischievous child.

"Clause thirty-two subsection B states—"

"Pfft! Subsection!" Lucifer wheezed, doubling over and nearly toppling off his throne.

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, his patience fraying.

"You’re drunk," he said flatly.

Lucifer gasped again, this time more dramatically than before.

"I am not!" he declared, though his lopsided grin and glassy eyes betrayed him. He leaned forward, his face inches from Adam’s.

"Okay, maybe I am. Just a little," he admitted, his grin turning sheepish. "But that’s only because it makes me feel better."

Adam’s brows furrowed. "Feel better about what?"

Lucifer didn’t answer. Instead, he reached behind his throne and, with a flourish, produced another bottle. He held it out to Adam. "Here. You should try it!"

Adam raised an eyebrow and pushed the bottle away. "No, thank you."

Lucifer huffed, setting the bottle aside and slumping forward onto the table between them. He rested his chin in his hands, staring up at Adam with a dreamy smile.

"You’re so serious all the time now," he said, his voice softer but still tinged with that drunken lilt. "It’s not fair."

Adam crossed his arms. "What’s not fair?"

Lucifer sat up suddenly, pointing at him with a pout. "Before, we used to snuggle! Under the sun, under the moon! You used to play with my wings and my hair! You loved my hair!"

Adam froze, his wings twitching nervously.

"That… never happened," he said stiffly.

"It did!" Lucifer insisted, his voice rising in pitch as he nearly climbed onto the table. "You’d brush my feathers and laugh at my stupid jokes and—oh!"

His attention shifted abruptly to Adam’s golden wings, his eyes lighting up with childlike wonder.

Before Adam could react, Lucifer was reaching out, his fingers tangling gently in the soft, shimmering feathers.

"Your wings," Lucifer murmured, his voice filled with awe. He ran his fingers through them, his touch light and teasing. "So beautiful. Are they as sensitive as mine?"

Adam jerked away, his wings folding tightly against his back.

"Your majesty," he said warningly.

But Lucifer only pouted, ducking under Adam’s arm and pushing himself into his lap. Adam stiffened, completely frozen as Lucifer wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug.

"You don’t love me anymore," Lucifer mumbled, his voice muffled against Adam’s chest.

Adam blinked, utterly at a loss.

"Your breath stinks," he said flatly, his tone the only defence he had against the absurdity of the situation.

Lucifer pulled back just enough to grin up at him, his face far too close.

"You used to like my hugs," he said, his tone playful but tinged with sadness.

Adam opened his mouth to retort but snapped it shut when Lucifer began to purr—a soft, rumbling sound that was entirely unexpected. Adam stared down at him, his mind racing for a way to handle the drunk, overly affectionate King of Hell currently snuggled against him.

Lucifer’s grin widened as he nuzzled closer, his purring growing louder.

"Missed this," he murmured, his voice thick with drunken sincerity.

Adam sighed deeply, his wings twitching with barely restrained frustration. "Your Majesty, you’re drunk. And ridiculous."

"And adorable," Lucifer added, giggling.

Adam didn’t respond, his mind spinning as he tried to figure out how to extract himself from the situation. But as Lucifer’s purring softened and his grip around Adam loosened, Adam realized the King had fallen asleep.

For a moment, Adam just sat there, staring down at Lucifer’s peaceful face. His heart ached, but he shoved the feeling aside.

"Ridiculous," he muttered again, carefully shifting Lucifer off his lap and onto the table. Lucifer barely stirred, mumbling something unintelligible before snuggling into the smooth surface.

Adam stood, straightening his robes and wings with a sigh. This was going to be a long negotiation.

Clearly, Lucifer did not sign the fucking contract that day either.

~#~

The tension in the air was thick as Adam entered the meeting room, his steps slow and deliberate. His golden wings drooped slightly, betraying his exhaustion. He had endured over a year of these tiresome meetings with Lucifer, each one feeling more like a test of his patience than a genuine negotiation. The King of Hell refused to take anything seriously, flitting between drunken antics and cryptic ramblings. Adam’s patience was wearing thin, and Sera’s growing frustration with him only added to his burden.

This time, however, as Adam stepped into the room, the sight that greeted him was unexpectedly… mundane.

Lucifer sat at the table, two steaming cups of tea before him, his demeanour oddly calm. His piercing eyes lit up when he spotted Adam, and he gestured grandly to the tea.

"Adam!" Lucifer chirped. "Perfect timing. I’ve prepared tea!"

Adam froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the setup.

"Tea?" he repeated, his voice flat.

"Green tea, to be specific," Lucifer said cheerfully, lifting his own cup and inhaling the fragrant steam with exaggerated delight.

Adam stared at him, his exhaustion mingling with disbelief. "Are you drunk again?"

Lucifer gasped, clutching his chest as though Adam had insulted his very existence.

"Drunk? Me? No, no, no! I’m as sober as a judge," he declared, then winked. "Well, maybe not one of Hell’s judges, but you get the idea. It’s tea, Adam. Harmless, non-poisoned, entirely respectable tea."

Adam’s sceptical gaze shifted to the cups. "Non-poisoned," he echoed.

Lucifer leaned forward, grinning like a cat. "One little tea with me isn’t going to hurt anyone, angel."

Adam sighed, the weight of the past year pressing down on him. Against his better judgment, he sat down and picked up the tea. He took a cautious sip, and though he refused to acknowledge it aloud, the tea was… surprisingly good.

Lucifer beamed, watching Adam drink as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. "See? No explosions, no hexes, no sneaky curses. Just good tea and good company."

Adam set the cup down with a soft clink and straightened his posture.

"Enough distractions," he said, his tone firm. "Let’s discuss the contract."

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair and cradling his tea.

"Actually," he said, interrupting Adam before he could dive into the terms, "I want to add something."

Adam blinked, his wings twitching.

"You want to add something?" he repeated, his disbelief evident.

Lucifer nodded, his smile warm and genuine, catching Adam off guard. "Yep. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now."

For a moment, Adam was at a loss for words. In over a year of meetings, Lucifer had never once shown interest in altering or even acknowledging the contract’s terms. His sudden change of heart was… unexpected.

"Like what?" Adam asked, his tone cautious.

Lucifer took a leisurely sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Adam. The intensity of his gaze made Adam grunt softly and take another sip of his own tea, as if the act might shield him from the King’s scrutiny.

This seemed to please Lucifer, who chuckled softly before finally answering. "I want to add a clause that states Heaven isn’t allowed to touch the Hellborns during the Extermination."

Adam frowned, his brows knitting together. "The Hellborns?"

Lucifer nodded, his expression unusually serious. "They have no part in this war between Heaven and Hell. They’re innocents, Adam. This mess between us is our fault, not theirs."

Adam stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the sly smirk, or the teasing remark that would reveal Lucifer’s true intent. But none came. The King of Hell seemed completely sincere.

After a moment, Adam nodded slowly. "I’ll run it past Sera…But I can’t imagine her rejecting the condition."

Lucifer’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands together.

"Wonderful!" he exclaimed, his cheerfulness returning in full force.

As Adam made a note of the amendment, Lucifer leaned forward on his elbows, resting his chin in his hands as he watched Adam with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"You know," Lucifer began, his tone light and teasing, "This tea really suits you. The golden glow of your wings, the calm, regal way you sip it… you’re practically a painting come to life."

Adam glanced at him, unimpressed.

"You’re being ridiculous," he said, returning his focus to the parchment.

Lucifer grinned. "Am I? Or am I just appreciating the finer things in life?"

Adam didn’t respond, his attention firmly on the contract.

Undeterred, Lucifer continued, his voice softening. "You know, back in Eden, I always thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen a lot, Adam, I’d truly like to have a closer look someday.”

The words went straight over Adam’s head, as they always did, and he simply hummed in acknowledgment without looking up.

Lucifer’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He knew Adam wouldn’t catch on immediately, but the anticipation of Adam eventually realizing the meaning behind his words was a delight in itself.

"One day, you’ll figure it out," Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Adam. He leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea with a contented sigh.

For now, he was happy to play the long game.

~#~

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candles casting warm shadows on the ornate table set with a spread of fruits, bread, and cheeses. It was absurd, and Adam knew it. Meetings with Lucifer had become increasingly ridiculous, but this one took the prize. Candles? Food? Was this some kind of prank?

Lucifer sat across from Adam, lounging with a lazy grin on his face, looking far too pleased with himself. He reached for a grape, popping it into his mouth as his crimson eyes glimmered with mischief.

"Are we really doing this?" Adam muttered, his golden wings shifting as he glanced at the table in exasperation.

Lucifer leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Why not? You’re always so stiff, Adam. Meetings don’t have to be boring. Relax for once."

Adam frowned, the corner of his mouth twitching as he struggled to keep his composure. "I’m here for business, not… whatever this is."

Lucifer sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "You wound me. I go through all this trouble, and you call it whatever this is?"

He gestured at the table, his fingers trailing dramatically through the candlelight.

Adam rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to protest, but Lucifer cut him off.

"Wait, wait," the King said, his grin widening. "I have an idea. Let’s play a game."

"A game?" Adam echoed, sceptical.

"Twenty questions!" Lucifer declared, clapping his hands together. "I ask a question, then you, and so on. Simple, harmless, and you might even have fun."

Adam’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Or, we could finish the contract."

Lucifer whined, reaching across the table to grab Adam’s hand. His touch was warm, his claws tracing light circles over Adam’s skin.

"Please," he whispered, his voice soft and pleading.

Adam’s frown deepened, his golden eyes narrowing at the King’s unrelenting smile. Despite himself, he sighed deeply and sank back into his chair.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But only to get this over with."

Lucifer purred, his grin so wide it almost looked innocent.

"Wonderful!" He leaned forward, practically buzzing with excitement. "I’ll start. What’s your favourite colour?"

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the question. After a moment, he muttered, "Blue."

Lucifer’s smile softened. "I thought so," he murmured. "It suits you."

Adam cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your turn, then. What’s your favourite colour?"

Lucifer laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Green," he said without hesitation.

"Oh," Adam said, blinking.

The game continued, the questions starting out sweet and innocent. Lucifer asked Adam about his favourite flowers (he didn’t have one, he loved them all) and favourite food (he didn’t really eat). Adam, in turn, simply repeated Lucifer’s questions back to him, unsure of how else to participate.

Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he seemed delighted by Adam’s awkwardness, his grin never faltering.

But then, the questions shifted.

"Have you been in a relationship since Eve?" Lucifer asked, his tone light, but his eyes watching Adam closely.

Adam frowned slightly, the question catching him off guard.

"No," he said honestly. "I haven’t been in a relationship ever."

Lucifer tilted his head, a soft, almost sad sound escaping his lips.

Adam, feeling obligated, asked, "Have you been in a relationship since the Queen left?"

Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with amusement, his grin turning sly.

"Nope," he said, popping the "p" for emphasis. "I don’t want any repeats."

Adam blinked, confused. "Repeats?" he asked.

Lucifer shifted closer, his fingers tracing faint lines over Adam’s arm, the touch sending an odd shiver through the angel’s body. His voice dropped into a low, teasing tone.

"I’m only interested in one of a kind," he said, his eyes locking onto Adam’s, “The first, you could say.”

Adam leaned away, his frown deepening. "You’re the weirdest king ever," he said flatly.

Lucifer laughed, his grin nothing short of radiant. "Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment."

The two sat in silence for a moment, the flickering candlelight dancing between them. Then, Lucifer’s expression softened, his gaze turning almost wistful.

"You know, Adam," he said quietly, "it’s been almost two years. And you still won’t call me by my name."

Adam frowned, confused. "You’re the King of Hell. Why would I—"

Lucifer pouted, the expression oddly endearing.

"I miss the way you used to say my name," he murmured, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

Adam shook his head, unsure how to respond. He felt an odd tightness in his chest, but he quickly shoved the feeling aside.

"You’re impossible," he muttered, reaching for his tea again.

Lucifer only smiled, his gaze lingering on Adam as though he were the only thing in the room that mattered.

“Let’s eat Adam, I made ribs for you~”

“I don’t eat meat,” Adam grunted.

Lucifer paused in thought. He didn’t know that. It made sense.

So, Adam’s a vegetarian?

~#~

The next meeting caught Adam off guard the moment he stepped into the chamber. The table was spread with an elaborate feast, a stunning array of vegetarian dishes carefully plated like works of art. Brightly coloured fruits shimmered like jewels, crisp salads were adorned with edible flowers, and warm loaves of bread sat beside steaming bowls of soup. The centrepiece was a towering platter of roasted vegetables, perfectly seasoned and garnished with herbs.

Adam stopped in his tracks, his golden wings twitching slightly as he stared at the display. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief, and he turned his gaze to Lucifer, who stood nearby, beaming like a proud artist unveiling his masterpiece.

"As a vegetarian," Lucifer announced with a flourish, "I’ve prepared the best for you~"

His crimson eyes twinkled with mischief, and his voice was thick with pride.

Adam tilted his head, staring at Lucifer as if trying to decipher some grand puzzle.

"You’re a vegetarian?" he asked slowly.

Lucifer chuckled, shrugging with mock modesty. "Of course! I couldn’t possibly harm a single creature. It would ruin my delicate charm." He winked.

Adam didn’t even try to hide his scepticism. "I’m beginning to see these meetings are becoming... weird," he muttered, folding his arms.

Lucifer snickered, crossing the room to stand beside Adam. "Weird?”

“Weird in what way?" His voice was light, teasing, but there was a softness in his gaze.

Adam didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the food, his stomach betraying him with a low growl. It did look good. More than good. The spread reminded him of the vibrant, abundant meals he and Eve used to share in Eden before… before everything fell apart.

Lucifer, ever perceptive, leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a playful purr. "Please, Addie~" The nickname rolled off his tongue so effortlessly, it made Adam’s wings twitch. "Please try my cooking! I’m sure you’ll like it. And I’ve made some beautiful pancakes for dessert."

He gestured dramatically toward the corner of the table, where a stack of golden-brown pancakes rested, dripping with syrup and adorned with fresh berries.

Adam sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First of all, stop calling me that," he grumbled. But when he glanced up at Lucifer, the King’s wide, hopeful grin made it hard to hold onto his irritation.

Lucifer clasped his hands together, swaying slightly. "But it suits you so well! Addie sounds so sweet, just like you~"

Adam rolled his eyes, his face heating slightly despite himself.

"Second," he said, attempting to steer the conversation back on track, "We’re supposed to be discussing the contract, not… indulging in whatever this is."

Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. "Business can wait. You look like you haven’t eaten in centuries. Come on, Adam. Just a bite?"

He stepped closer, grabbing a plate and holding it out like an offering. His grin softened into something gentler, almost pleading. "For me?"

Adam hesitated, his golden eyes narrowing. But the aroma wafting from the table was too tempting, and his stomach protested loudly again. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he grabbed the plate from Lucifer’s hands.

"Fine," he muttered. "But only because you won’t shut up about it."

Lucifer’s entire face lit up as he watched Adam sit down and reach for the nearest dish. The angel piled his plate with roasted vegetables and fruit, poking at the food with his fork as if expecting a trap. Lucifer sat across from him, chin resting on his hands, watching with an almost childlike anticipation.

Adam raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you going to stare at me the entire time?"

Lucifer smirked, not even trying to deny it. "Maybe. You’re adorable when you’re flustered."

Adam ignored him, taking a bite of the roasted vegetables. The flavours hit his tongue like a revelation—perfectly balanced, rich yet light, with just the right amount of seasoning. He blinked, caught off guard by how good it tasted.

Lucifer’s grin widened. "Well? What do you think?"

Adam chewed slowly, swallowing before muttering, "It’s… fine."

Lucifer gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Fine? Just fine? That’s the best you can do?"

"It’s food," Adam said flatly, though he couldn’t hide the slight twitch of his lips. He reached for more vegetables, trying to focus on his plate and not on the way Lucifer’s eyes sparkled with delight.

As the meal continued, Lucifer chatted away, his voice light and teasing. He asked Adam about his favourite foods, about his memories of Eden, about anything that came to mind. Adam, still wary, answered in clipped sentences, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind.

When they reached dessert, Lucifer slid the plate of pancakes toward Adam with a flourish.

"And now," he declared, "the pièce de résistance."

Adam eyed the pancakes warily before cutting into them with his fork. He took a small bite, and his eyes widened slightly. They were… perfect. Fluffy, sweet, and melt-in-your-mouth good.

Lucifer leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Adam.

"You like them," he said softly, his tone more serious now.

Adam paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. He looked at Lucifer, who was gazing at him with an intensity that made his chest tighten. "They’re… good," he admitted.

Lucifer’s smile softened, a rare flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. "I’m glad," he said quietly.

For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Adam shifted uncomfortably, his golden wings twitching as he focused on his plate.

"Next time, I’ll make something even better. Maybe I’ll teach you how to cook!" Lucifer’s voice broke the silence, light and teasing again

Adam groaned, shaking his head. "There isn’t going to be a next time."

Lucifer just laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "We’ll see, Addie. We’ll see."

Later, Adam stood in the grand chamber of Heaven’s council, his golden wings folded tightly against his back as he faced Sera, whose cold, steely gaze seemed to pierce through him. The light of Heaven filtered in through the crystalline windows, casting shimmering reflections across the marble floors, but the warmth of it was lost on Adam. Sera’s displeasure was tangible, and the weight of it pressed heavily on his shoulders.

“It has been three years, Adam,” Sera said, her voice sharp and unyielding. She stood behind a towering desk, her silver wings spread wide, a sign of both her authority and her frustration. “Three years, and we have seen no progress on this matter.”

Adam shifted uncomfortably; his hands clasped in front of him as he tried to maintain his composure.

“Sera,” he began, his tone measured but tinged with weariness, “Lucifer is being… unreasonable. Every meeting is—”

Sera cut him off with a raised hand, her icy glare silencing him instantly. “Do not make excuses, Adam. It is your duty to secure his agreement. You were chosen for this task because of your… connection to him.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. “That connection doesn’t exist anymore,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then rebuild it,” Sera snapped, her tone cutting through the air like a blade. She stepped around the desk, her robes billowing as she moved closer to him. “You are an angel of Heaven, Adam. You were created for a purpose, and you will fulfil it. That traitor’s antics are no excuse for your failure. He may be the King of Hell, but he is not above persuasion. You simply aren’t trying hard enough.”

Adam’s wings twitched, and he glanced away, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low but firm. “He’s not just being difficult—he’s acting… strange. These meetings aren’t about the contract to him. He doesn’t take it seriously. He cooks meals, he laughs and talks with me, he—”

“Flirts?” Sera’s eyebrow arched, her tone laced with disbelief and disapproval.

Adam felt his face heat slightly, and he cleared his throat. “That’s not the point. The point is, he’s using these meetings to… distract me. To toy with me. He’s not acting like a king or a ruler—he’s acting…”

“Like the Angel you once knew?” Sera interjected, her voice quieter now but no less pointed.

Adam froze, his golden eyes snapping to hers.

Sera’s gaze softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “Whatever game that traitor is playing, it is your responsibility to rise above it. He is trying to delay, to manipulate you. You cannot allow yourself to be swayed by his charm or his tricks.”

“I’m not,” Adam said quickly, though the words felt hollow even to him.

Sera sighed deeply, turning away from him and gazing out the window at the endless expanse of Heaven. “This contract is not just a document, Adam. It is a pact that will shape the balance between Heaven and Hell for eternity. Every moment you delay, more souls are lost. Do you understand the gravity of this task?”

Adam lowered his head, his shoulders slumping under the weight of her words.

“I understand,” he murmured.

“Then act like it,” Sera said sharply, turning back to him. “You cannot let your history with the traitor cloud your judgment. If he won’t cooperate, find a way to make him. Do whatever it takes to secure his signature, or I will find someone who can.”

The threat hung heavily in the air, and Adam’s heart sank. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, to explain that Lucifer wasn’t just being stubborn—he was being Lucifer, the infuriating, unpredictable being who had once been his friend. But Sera wouldn’t care about that. All she cared about was the contract.

“Yes, Sera,” Adam said finally, his voice flat.

Sera studied him for a long moment before nodding curtly. “You are dismissed.”

Adam bowed slightly, turning on his heel and leaving the chamber. As he walked down the golden corridors, his mind churned with frustration and exhaustion. He had tried everything to get Lucifer to take the contract seriously, but the King of Hell was impossible to pin down. And now, with Sera breathing down his neck, the pressure was unbearable.

When he finally reached the quiet solitude of his own chamber, Adam sank into a chair, burying his face in his hands. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. Lucifer was breaking him in ways he hadn’t thought possible, and now Sera’s expectations were threatening to crush what little resolve he had left.

For the first time in centuries, Adam felt truly lost.

The silence pressing in on him as Sera’s words replayed in his mind. His wings drooped, and his golden eyes stared blankly at the polished table in front of him. The phrase “He is flirting with you” hit him like a thunderclap, louder with each repetition in his head.

Lucifer. Flirting.

“What?” Adam said aloud, his voice echoing faintly in the room.

He frowned, sitting up straighter as if the realization itself had physically jolted him. His mind began rifling through the past few years of meetings, replaying Lucifer’s behaviour, his words, the touches, the ridiculous closeness…

Adam’s heart sank.

“No…” he muttered, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss the thought. “He wasn’t… he couldn’t have been…”

But the memories refused to be ignored.

Lucifer leaning across the table, his sharp grin teasing and playful. “Addie~ You’re so serious all the time! Relax a little—this is our meeting, isn’t it?”

Lucifer tracing his claws over Adam’s arm, the sly purr in his voice as he murmured, “Only interested in one of a kind…”

Lucifer cooking extravagant meals, beaming as Adam reluctantly tried them, his eyes sparkling like he’d won some kind of game.

Lucifer crawling onto his lap during that drunken meeting, clinging to him with a pout and whispering, “Why don’t you love me anymore?”

Adam’s wings twitched, feathers ruffling uncomfortably as the memories piled up. Each one felt like another punch to the gut. He had been so focused on getting the contract signed, so focused on enduring Lucifer’s antics without letting them get to him, that he had completely overlooked… that.

Lucifer had been flirting.

Adam felt heat rise to his cheeks, his jaw clenching as a mix of emotions churned inside him. Confusion, disbelief, and a faint undercurrent of horror all warred for dominance. He buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly.

“Why?” he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms. “Why is he doing this? What kind of game is this?”

He sat back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to make sense of it all. Lucifer was the King of Hell, the former Morning Star, the fallen archangel. And yet… he had spent the last three years acting like—like—Adam groaned again, this time louder.

“He’s messing with me,” Adam concluded, his voice firm despite the uncertainty swirling in his chest. “That’s what this is. He’s trying to distract me, trying to throw me off so I can’t finish the contract. Typical Lucifer. It has to be that.”

But even as he said it, the memory of Lucifer’s soft smiles, his gentle touches, and the way he had looked at Adam—like Adam was the only thing in the room that mattered—gnawed at the edges of his reasoning.

“No,” Adam said firmly, standing up and pacing the room. His wings fluttered slightly as his frustration grew. “It’s manipulation. That’s all it is. He doesn’t mean any of it. He’s just trying to get under my skin.”

The idea of Lucifer genuinely… liking him in that way felt impossible. It was absurd. It was—

Adam stopped pacing, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt completely overwhelmed. Why now? Why after everything? Why would Lucifer even—

“Ugh,” Adam groaned, flopping back into the chair with his head tilted toward the ceiling. “This is ridiculous.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to focus. Sera was right about one thing—he had a duty to fulfil. He couldn’t let himself get distracted by Lucifer’s games, no matter how confusing or disarming they were.

And yet, as much as Adam tried to push the thought away, the lingering question gnawed at the back of his mind.

What if Lucifer wasn’t playing a game?

~#~

Adam stormed into the meeting room, his golden wings spread wide, their shimmering feathers casting an almost blinding glow across the dark marble floors of the hall. His eyes were sharp, jaw tight, and his steps echoed with determination. Lucifer, of course, was already lounging at the table, leaning back in his chair with an amused smile as he rested his chin on his hand.

“Addie! You’re so tense again,” Lucifer greeted, his voice lilting and sweet like honey. The tiny crown perched on his head caught the candlelight as he waved toward the spread he’d prepared—a small table with tea, pastries, and some fresh-cut flowers.

Adam didn’t falter. “Enough games, your Majesty. Sign the contract.”

Lucifer’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint that Adam had come to both dread and anticipate.

“You’ve come to see me after all these weeks, and this is how you greet me? No hello? No ‘how are you, Lucifer?’” He sat up, folding his hands under his chin as his tail curled lazily around the chair’s leg.

“I don’t have time for this,” Adam snapped, pulling out the rolled parchment and slamming it onto the table. His frustration poured out in the furrow of his brow and the tension in his voice. “Three years. Three years of these meetings, and you still haven’t signed it.”

Lucifer tilted his head, a faux pout playing on his lips.

“Three years, indeed,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost wistful. “Imagine how much time we’ve spent together, Addie. Doesn’t it make you wonder?”

“Stop calling me that,” Adam growled.

Lucifer ignored him, leaning forward with a playful grin. “It’s sweet, don’t you think? All this time you could have sent anyone else, but you didn’t. You kept coming back to me. Why is that, hmm?”

Adam blinked, caught off guard by the way Lucifer’s voice dipped into something almost intimate. His sharp response caught in his throat, and he quickly shook his head, scowling as he tried to refocus.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Adam barked, glaring down at Lucifer. “Sign the contract. Now.”

But Lucifer only chuckled, low and warm.

“Distract you?” he echoed, his lips curling into a sly smirk. “Darling, if I’m distracting you, that’s entirely your problem, isn’t it?”

Adam opened his mouth to retort, but his mind snagged on that word—darling. His wings bristled slightly, and for the first time, his voice faltered.

“Y-you—don’t call me that,” he managed, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

Lucifer froze for a second before breaking into a delighted laugh, the sound rich and melodic as he clapped his hands together.

“Oh, Addie,” he purred, practically glowing with glee. “Was that… did you just stutter?”

His crimson eyes gleamed, and his tail flicked behind him with excitement. “You did! You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“I—what?!” Adam’s face flushed, and he instinctively stepped back, his wings twitching as he tried to compose himself. “I am not—this is absurd—sign the damn contract!”

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, beaming at Adam like he’d just won a prize.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” he mused, his voice thick with satisfaction. “I’ve been waiting years to see you crack just a little. And now? Oh, Addie, I’ve barely even started.”

Adam clenched his jaw, glaring at Lucifer with a heat that should have been enough to make him stop, but the King of Hell was unbothered, basking in Adam’s attention like it was the sun.

Lucifer reached out, gently tugging at the edge of Adam’s golden sleeve with his clawed fingers.

“You really are magnificent when you’re angry,” he murmured, his tone dipping lower, warmer, enough to make Adam’s chest tighten. “Do you know that? The glow of your wings, the fire in your eyes—it’s breathtaking.”

Adam swatted Lucifer’s hand away, stepping back as he struggled to steady his breathing. “That’s enough!” he barked, though his voice cracked slightly at the end.

Lucifer grinned wider, leaning forward again, his head propped on his hands.

“Tell me, Addie,” he began, his tone dripping with playful curiosity, “When was the last time someone complimented you like that? Or touched you? Or…”

He trailed off, his grin turning sly as he let the words hang between them.

Adam’s face burned, and he felt a lump forming in his throat. His mouth opened, but no words came out—just an unintelligible sound of frustration as his wings flared out behind him.

Lucifer’s laughter filled the room again, but this time it was softer, more indulgent. He rested his chin on his palm, looking at Adam with a gaze that was almost fond.

“You’re precious, Addie,” he said softly, his smile turning gentle.

Adam exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back to Lucifer, needing a moment to breathe. His heart was racing, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

“Sign. The. Contract,” Adam said through gritted teeth, his back still to Lucifer.

Lucifer didn’t respond right away, and when Adam glanced over his shoulder, he found the King of Hell watching him intently, his expression unreadable for once.

“Maybe,” Lucifer said finally, his voice quiet but firm, “But only if you promise me one thing, Addie.”

Adam frowned, narrowing his eyes. “What now?”

Lucifer smiled, a softer, more vulnerable one than Adam had seen in a long time. “Promise me you’ll stop pretending you hate being here.”

Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat as the words sank in. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the silence settling heavily between them.

Then, as always, Lucifer broke it with a playful grin and a wink.

“After all,” he added lightly, “You wouldn’t keep coming back if you really hated me, would you?”

Adam’s face burned again, and he turned away, muttering under his breath as he tried desperately to refocus on the contract. But Lucifer’s words lingered, far longer than Adam wanted them to.

“I keep coming back because I have to!” Adam snapped, his voice sharp and laced with frustration.

Lucifer, lounging lazily in his chair, only grinned, his devilish tail swaying behind him like a satisfied cat. The glow of the candlelight danced in his ruby and gold-flecked eyes as he leaned forward slightly, his chin resting in his palm.

“Come now, Addie,” he purred, his voice dripping with teasing sweetness, “we both know that if you really didn’t want to come here, you wouldn’t.”

Adam’s golden eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “I don’t have a choice. Sera says—”

Lucifer interrupted him with a soft laugh, the sound smooth and amused. “Oh, please.”

He waved a hand dismissively, his long claws catching the light. “You and I both know that if you really put your foot down, even dear Sera couldn’t force you into this room. Admit it.”

His grin widened as he leaned back, his posture infuriatingly relaxed. “You like coming here. You like spending time with little old me.”

Adam stiffened, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. He didn’t respond, refusing to dignify Lucifer’s claim with a rebuttal.

Lucifer took full advantage of the silence, his grin softening into something almost tender.

“And, if I’m being honest…” He stood, his movements slow and deliberate as he closed the distance between them.

“I keep coming back too, Addie.” His voice dropped into a low, velvety murmur. “Because I like spending time with you.”

Lucifer’s hand brushed lightly against Adam’s arm, his claws grazing just enough to send a shiver up the angel’s spine. He slid his palm upward, his fingers tracing a deliberate path before settling gently against Adam’s cheek.

“It reminds me of Eden,” he whispered, his voice warm and nostalgic. “When it was just you and me, under the sun, without the weight of Heaven and Hell between us.”

Adam stared at him, frozen in place, his heart pounding.

“I—I don’t remember that,” he managed weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lucifer let out a soft snort, his smile turning mischievous.

“Now, now,” he said, his voice a playful hum. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not—” Adam started to protest, his tone sharper this time, but before he could finish, Lucifer silenced him in a way that stole his breath.

Lucifer leaned in, his lips brushing softly against Adam’s. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but quickly grew firmer, more sure of itself. Lucifer’s lips moved with practiced ease, coaxing a response, though Adam remained stiff, his mind spinning. The warmth of the kiss, the weight of it, felt impossibly familiar, like a memory long buried yet suddenly unearthed.

For a fleeting moment, it was perfect.

But then, just as Lucifer began to deepen the kiss, tilting his head and brushing his claws softly against Adam’s jawline, Adam snapped back to reality. With a sharp shove, he pushed Lucifer away, his movements quick and forceful.

Lucifer stumbled, letting out a startled yelp as he grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. His wings flared slightly behind him, his golden and ruby eyes wide with shock as he looked up at Adam. “Adam—” he began, his voice soft, almost pleading.

But Adam was already turning away, his golden wings twitching with barely contained energy as he bolted for the door.

Lucifer remained frozen in place, staring after him as the sound of Adam’s footsteps faded into the distance. The door swung shut with a heavy thud, and the room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, the tension draining from his body as he lowered himself slowly back into his chair. His fingers drifted to his lips, tracing over the place where Adam’s had been moments before. The warmth lingered, but it wasn’t enough to mask the sting of rejection.

His heart, the thing he thought he’d buried deep and locked away, thudded anxiously in his chest. His claws curled into his palm as he stared at the door, half-expecting Adam to come back, to burst in with an apology, to say something—anything.

But the door didn’t open.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he wrestled with the ache in his chest. After a moment, he stood, his movements slower, less confident than usual. A swirl of dark energy enveloped him, and he disappeared from the room, leaving nothing behind but the faint scent of brimstone.

When he reappeared in his chambers in Hell, the oppressive silence of the space wrapped around him like a cloak. The usual comfort of his lair—the flickering flames, the plush velvet, the distant echo of infernal laughter—felt hollow. Lucifer made his way to his massive, intricately carved bed and collapsed face-first onto the mattress.

Lucifer lay sprawled across his luxurious bed, his face buried in the cool silk of his pillows. The room around him was grand, as befitting the King of Hell—a chamber of dark velvet, glowing embers, and twisted beauty—but it felt emptier than ever. His claws dug into the fabric beneath him as his chest heaved with frustration and longing. He couldn’t stop replaying the moment in his mind: the soft press of Adam’s lips against his, the way the golden-winged angel froze beneath him, and then—the shove.

The harsh, rejecting shove.

His lips still tingled; his cheeks still flushed from the contact. Lucifer groaned, flipping onto his back as his tail thrashed against the edge of the bed. He stared up at the intricately carved ceiling, the glow of the fiery sconces casting shadows that twisted and danced, mirroring the chaos in his chest.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, dragging a hand over his face. His other hand—traitorous thing—lingered near his lips, brushing them softly as if trying to relive that fleeting, perfect moment.

It hurt. It really hurt.

Lucifer wasn’t accustomed to rejection. He was the King of Hell, the first of the fallen, the Morning Star. He could have anyone he wanted with a snap of his fingers. And yet, here he was, sprawled out and sulking because one stubborn, infuriatingly beautiful angel had pushed him away.

But it wasn’t just anyone, was it?

It was Adam.

Lucifer let out another groan, throwing an arm over his face as if to shield himself from his own thoughts. His mind raced, thoughts colliding and tangling into a mess of emotions he wasn’t used to feeling. He’d thought—no, hoped—that they’d been making progress. The past year, things had felt… different. Warmer. Adam didn’t hate him anymore, or so he’d thought. They’d shared conversations, tea, even quiet moments where Lucifer could pretend, just for a little while, that things were as they once were.

He had been so sure that Adam was softening, that the walls Adam had built between them were finally starting to crumble. And then today… that kiss.

Lucifer’s heart clenched at the memory. It had been everything he’d imagined and more. Adam’s lips were warm, soft, and for one blissful moment, it felt as if the universe had aligned. But then the push came, and it was like being cast down from Heaven all over again.

His clawed hand clenched into a fist against his chest, his tail curling tightly around his leg as he let out a shaky breath. He didn’t blame Adam. He’d hurt him in the past—so deeply that it was a wonder Adam even tolerated his presence now. The betrayal in Eden, the way he’d let Lilith manipulate him, the way he’d turned away from Adam when Adam needed him most…

He deserved the rejection.

But it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Lucifer sat up abruptly, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light as he stared across the room. The purple curtains swayed gently, and for a moment, he thought he could see Adam standing there, his golden wings catching the light just so. His heart ached, and he pressed a hand to his chest as if he could physically calm its frantic beating.

“This isn’t a game,” he whispered to himself, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

It wasn’t. Not this time. Lucifer had played plenty of games in the past, but this? This was different. He didn’t just want Adam to fall for him, to become another conquest, another trophy. He wanted… everything.

He wanted Adam’s love, his trust, his companionship. He wanted to see those radiant golden wings spread out beneath him, trembling with pleasure as Lucifer showed him the depths of his devotion. He wanted to hear Adam laugh—really laugh—without the weight of Heaven’s expectations on his shoulders. He wanted Adam to stay by his side, to rule with him, to build something new together.

He wanted Adam to be his.

Lucifer’s cheeks burned at the thought, his hand flying to his mouth as he whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He hadn’t felt like this with Lilith. Or Eve. Or anyone. It was overwhelming, all-consuming, and it terrified him as much as it thrilled him.

Lucifer’s tail flicked against the bed again as a determined smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He’d messed up in the past—royally, catastrophically—but he was determined to fix it. Adam might not realize it yet, but they were meant to be together. Lucifer could feel it in every fibre of his being.

“It’s not over,” he said aloud, his voice firm as he pushed himself off the bed. His reflection in the dark mirror across the room stared back at him, and he straightened his crown, his crimson eyes burning with resolve.

Adam might not have been ready for him yet, but Lucifer was nothing if not patient. He’d waited centuries to fix what he’d broken; what was a little longer?

Sooner or later, Adam would come to see things his way. He would come to Hell, where he belonged. By the time the year was up, Adam would be his—mind, body, and soul. Lucifer grinned, his tail swishing with anticipation.

And if Lucifer had his way? Adam would be carrying his child, golden wings shimmering as they ruled together.

“Soon,” Lucifer whispered, his grin widening as he disappeared into the shadows of his chamber, his mind already spinning with plans for their next meeting.

“Oh Addie. Our wedding will be memorable~”

With a purring moan, Lucifer slipped a hand down his front. He slid his hand between his legs, his eyes sliding half-lidded. His long snake-like tongue slithered out from his lips as his mind immediately filled up with Adam.

Oh. He bet Adam would make the cutest sounds~

Lucifer lay back on the plush velvet sheets, fully spent and not quite satisfied, his golden hair was a mess. He gazed up at the ceiling, his mind swirling with memories. His golden and ruby eyes, normally so steady and unshakable, flickered with confusion and regret as they focused on the ceiling above him. His clawed fingers dug into the fabric beneath him, grounding him, though it did nothing to quell the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his mind.

He had been so sure of himself, once. The King of Hell, the master of his domain. He had everything he could ever want—power, wealth, respect—yet he had never felt emptier. And it had taken him far too long to realize why.

Adam.

The thought of him, always lingering just out of reach, was what fuelled his every action now. His feelings for Adam had been growing for years, unnoticed at first, perhaps even unrecognized by himself. It had all started with the first time he was drunk, that one fateful meeting when his guard was down, and Adam had been there. He’d been so gentle, so calm, so… unwilling to yield to Lucifer’s charm. It had irritated him at first, that resistance, but as the weeks passed, Lucifer found it… endearing.

And then it grew into something more.

He hadn’t meant to feel this way. At first, it was just loneliness. Lilith had left him, disappeared without a word, and he had no idea where she had gone. She had been everything to him, once. But then, she’d betrayed him, just as he had betrayed her. When she’d left, he’d been swallowed by the void she’d left behind, unsure how to fill it. And when he saw Adam—saw his golden wings and unshakable resolve—he realized he could use that. He could use Adam to fill that void.

But that wasn’t what it had become, was it?

Lucifer rolled onto his side, staring out at the darkened room, his thoughts racing. His feelings for Adam went beyond loneliness now. They were something rawer, deeper, more real. Something that terrified him. At first, it had just been a distraction, a passing fancy. But the more time he spent with Adam, the more he realized how much he needed him.

Needed him. Not just for companionship, but for something more. For Adam’s forgiveness, for his love. For something Lucifer had long since forgotten: peace.

The King of Hell chuckled bitterly to himself. He had been a fool. A scumbag. He had let Lilith manipulate him, cloud his mind, make him think the only thing that mattered was control and power. He had seduced Lilith, used Eve—he had ruined everything. The shame burned inside him, a constant reminder of how wrong he had been. He hated himself for it. He hated himself for letting his pride and desire control him. He hated himself for being a blind fool who couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

Adam had always been right there, in front of him, and Lucifer had never appreciated him the way he should have. He had taken him for granted. He had acted rashly. He had been disgusting.

Trash.

No. Worse than trash. He had been a monster, and monsters didn’t deserve love. He didn’t deserve Adam’s forgiveness. Hell, he didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as him. But Lucifer couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stop thinking about Adam.

The way Adam’s wings fluttered when he was nervous. The way his eyes softened when they spoke about things they both cared about. The way Adam would stare at him, like he didn’t understand why Lucifer couldn’t just leave him alone.

But Lucifer couldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t.

At first, Lucifer had convinced himself it was all just a result of his loneliness, that Adam was nothing more than a temporary distraction. But then the dreams had started. He would wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, his heart racing, because Adam had been there. In his dreams, Adam had been everything he wanted. He had kissed him, had held him, had loved him. And when Lucifer had woken, his body aching, he realized he didn’t want it to end.

When Lilith returned, Lucifer had been so thrown off by his own emotions that he couldn’t even think straight. She had tried to speak to him, tried to rekindle their relationship, but all he could think about was Adam. He hadn’t even heard what Lilith had said—only that she was standing there, in front of him, demanding his attention. But all he could see was Adam. He couldn’t think of anything but the golden-winged angel who had captured his heart without even realizing it.

And when Lilith had left again, Lucifer had made his choice. He told her, without hesitation, to fuck off. He had no more use for her, no more desire for her. He had finally seen it for what it was. Lilith had never been what he truly wanted.

What he truly wanted, Lucifer realized with a bitter smile, was Adam.

The realization had hit him like a freight train. He had wanted Adam for years—he had just been too blind to see it. Too caught up in his own pride and his desire for control. Adam had always been the one, the one he had pushed away, the one he had hurt.

But that wasn’t going to happen anymore.

Lucifer sat up, running his claws through his hair as his chest tightened. He wanted Adam. And not just for a night. He wanted him forever. He wanted to make him his partner, his lover, his equal. He wanted Adam to carry his children. He wanted Adam to be by his side, forever.

But Adam didn’t remember him, did he? Adam didn’t even call him by his name. After all this time, after everything they had been through, Adam still didn’t see him the way he saw Adam. He still thought of him as just the King of Hell.

That hurt more than anything.

But Lucifer wasn’t going to give up. He couldn’t. He had made mistakes, yes. But he would make them right. Adam would come around. Lucifer would make sure of it. Because no matter what, Adam belonged to him.

And Lucifer was going to have him, even if it took everything.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #lucifer x adam #fanfic #guitarduck #au #fanficiton #a03 #shut down

66 notes · View notes