Adamsapple Week 2024

Adamsapple ship week event. Currently about to hold a month long event held in October, AdamsApple Harvest! Check the pinned post for more info 🎃🎃🎃

[adamsappleweek]

Welcome to AdamsApple Harvest!

This is a monthlong prompt fest celebrating the sweet and the spooky, with a little something for those who like a bit of spice 🎃🍎🎸🎃

Rules:

✨This is a SFW/NSFW event. 18+ only, please!

✨Prompts can be mixed and matched as you choose.

✨Any NSFW content must be properly tagged.

If you have any further questions, the ask box is always open!

Happy creating!

[adamsappleweek]

No AdamsApple month this year?

The co-mod of this event has mostly moved on to other fandoms, and I have also busied myself with other activities, so unfortunately nothing planned from either of us!

However I suggest you keep an eye on @adamsapplefluffweek since they regularly seem to promote and organize prompts for the community!

[rainforestakiie]

one more to go for the Adamsapple Harvest Month ! I am looking forward what you have been cooking for this, since it's a free choice day !

Love all your stories ! Sending Adamsapple vibes 💕💕

aww, thank you so much! your support throughout harvest meant so much for me! i didn't think i would have gotten so many of them done! i tried my very best to make each one different!

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Free Day~

Part 01 - Part 02

this took me so long to settle on. i had so many different ideas and thoughts. in the end, i tried to do something new and different. i hope you like this! i hope you all like this!

@adamsappleweek

The woman's scream tore through the silence of the night, a harrowing sound that pierced even the suffocating darkness. Above, the midnight sky roiled with thunder, as if the heavens themselves shuddered at her anguish. Inside the sprawling, dimly lit manor, the air was thick with murmurs. Maids in crisp black-and-white uniforms scrambled through the halls, their skirts swishing as their polished boots clattered against the wooden floors. They carried steaming bowls of water, towels, and freshly laundered sheets, their whispers weaving a tapestry of unease as they darted between the master bedroom and the washroom.

In the heart of the chaos, the lady of the house wailed, her cries echoing down the long, shadowy corridors. The flickering gaslights buzzed, their unstable glow casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. When the grandfather clock struck midnight, her screams abruptly ceased, leaving behind a dreadful silence that seeped into every corner of the house.

The servants moved like ghosts, their heads bowed, eyes averted as they passed the master of the house. He stood in the corridor, his face carved from stone, his hands clenched into trembling fists. The whispers rose around him, faint but persistent, carried like a curse through the air.

The young master is a monster, they said. The words slithered from one mouth to another, infecting every ear. The newborn is a freak.

The master clenched his jaw as his advisers urged him to dismiss the servants' gossip, but the words gnawed at him, relentless. Upstairs, his wife lay pale and weak in their grand four-poster bed. Her once-vivid curls were now limp, splayed across her pillow like wilted vines. The maids hovered around her, cleaning her, changing her gown and the blood-stained sheets. She opened her eyes only when her husband entered the room.

"Where is my baby?" she whispered, her voice trembling like the last note of a dying song.

The master said nothing at first. He knelt beside her, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Her breath hitched, her frail hand clutching at his. Her wide, red-rimmed eyes darted to the empty cradle beside the bed. The absence of her child was a gaping void, a silent accusation. When he tried to soothe her, stroking her hair, she turned away, her body shaking with silent sobs. The master rose, his chest tight, and left the room without another word. Behind him, her grief erupted, a raw sound that reverberated through the house.

Down the corridor, he stormed past servants who scurried out of his way, their whispers like the hiss of snakes. A monster, they said, a freak. Their words followed him to the nursery, where he threw the door open with such force that it banged against the wall.

The baby cried, a thin, fragile wail that pricked the air like needles. An elderly woman, seated beside the cradle, glared at him.

"I just got him to sleep," she snapped.

Ignoring her, the master approached the cradle, staring down at the bundle of blankets that obscured his son.

"This—this cannot be," he muttered, his voice thick with revulsion.

The old woman—his mother—sighed and began to rock the cradle gently. "He's a baby, not a monster. He just needs love, Nathaniel."

A scoff came from the corner. "Love?"

The adviser, a man with sharp features and a colder demeanour, leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "Love won’t hide what he is. The boy’s existence is a stain on your name, Nathaniel."

"Enough!" Nathaniel barked, his voice cracking through the room like a whip. He turned to the doctor, who stood by the rain-streaked window, twisting his hands nervously.

"How did this happen?" Nathaniel demanded. "You told us nothing was wrong!"

The doctor hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor.

"I—I did inform you," he stammered. "The condition is rare, but it happens. It's not genetic; it can occur in any family. Your son has... Phocomelia."

"Phocomelia?" Nathaniel repeated, the word foreign and bitter on his tongue.

The doctor nodded, explaining haltingly that the condition affected the baby's limbs, leaving them underdeveloped. He spoke of challenges, of a life that would be different but not devoid of meaning.

But Nathaniel’s face grew darker with every word. "This is not what I expected," he said coldly. "This is not my son."

"You haven’t even held him," his mother spat, rising from her chair. "You look at him as though he's some cursed thing, but he is your flesh and blood!"

The adviser sneered. "Flesh and blood? He’ll bring nothing but shame to this family."

"Do not speak of my grandson that way," the old woman snapped, her voice shaking with fury.

Nathaniel leaned over the cradle, peeling back the blankets with trembling hands. The sight of the baby—tiny, fragile, and undeniably different—seemed to drain the colour from his face.

"No," he whispered. "This... This cannot be my child."

"Then give him to me," his mother said, her voice thick with disgust. "If you cannot see him as your son, I will take him."

But Nathaniel ignored her. His hands shook as he picked up the baby, the child’s cries filling the room again. His mother screamed for him to stop as he stormed out, the baby clutched tightly in his arms. He ran through the rain-soaked streets, the icy drops drenching him as his mind raced with dark, unthinkable thoughts.

At the river’s edge, he stopped, staring at the dark, swirling water.

"You were supposed to be perfect," he murmured, his voice cracking. "Not... this."

But he couldn’t do it. Something inside him faltered, and instead, he turned and stumbled to a nearby bus stop. Placing the baby in a small wooden box, he wrapped the blankets around the child one last time. The baby whimpered, his tiny face crumpling, but Nathaniel couldn’t bear to look.

"Forgive me," he whispered, before walking away.

The rain fell harder as a woman, hurrying home, spotted the box. Her sharp intake of breath cut through the storm as she lifted the crying baby, her heart aching at the sight. She looked around the empty street, but no one was there.

Hugging the baby close, she whispered, "You’re safe now. I’ll take care of you."

The rain had soaked the small bundle through by the time the woman found him. Her trembling hands carefully lifted the wooden box, and she gasped softly at the sight of the newborn. The baby's cries were weak but insistent, his tiny face scrunched up against the cold. Pressing him close to her chest, she shielded him from the relentless downpour with her threadbare coat.

As she hurried home to her crumbling flat, her mind raced. Who could abandon such a fragile life? It wasn’t until she reached the safety of her dimly lit apartment and carefully unwrapped the blankets that she understood. Her heart clenched painfully as her eyes travelled over the tiny form: no arms, no legs—just the delicate torso of a child struggling to exist in a world that already seemed against him.

She wept then, not out of horror but out of heartbreak. How could anyone look at this innocent life and see only what he lacked? To her, the child was perfect, as if he had been entrusted to her for a reason.

"Adam," she whispered softly, cradling him close. "I’ll love you. I promise."

Life with Adam was not easy. The woman, whose name was Clara, worked tirelessly to care for him. Her rundown flat, with its peeling wallpaper and drafty windows, was barely a home, but she made it warm with her love. Adam grew, a curious and bright boy, but his care required more than Clara could often afford. Medical bills piled up alongside rent, utilities, and the cost of even the most basic groceries. Clara took on four jobs—cleaning houses, working nights at a diner, mending clothes for neighbours, and even scrubbing floors at the local church. She rarely slept, and exhaustion painted dark circles beneath her eyes, but she never once considered giving Adam up.

Her brother, Marcus, saw things differently. From the moment he laid eyes on Adam, he recoiled.

"You can’t do this, Clara," he told her during one of his visits. He avoided looking at Adam, even as the boy’s laughter echoed from his corner of the room, where he played with his few toys. "You don’t make enough to care for yourself, let alone a child like... that."

Clara’s jaw tightened, and she clenched her fists. "He’s not that, Marcus. He’s my son."

"He’s not your son," Marcus snapped, his voice sharp and unyielding. "And if you don’t face reality, you’re going to ruin yourself—and him."

As Adam grew older, the strain deepened. Clara found herself sacrificing meals to ensure Adam had what he needed. Every passing month brought more heated arguments with Marcus.

"You have to do something, Clara," he insisted, his frustration mounting. "You can’t keep this up. Look at you! You’re wasting away, and Adam—"

"Don’t you dare," she interrupted, her voice trembling but firm. "Don’t you dare say anything about Adam. He’s happy. He’s loved."

"Love doesn’t pay the bills!" Marcus slammed his hand on the table one evening, a newspaper clenched in his other hand.

"Look." He smoothed the page out and jabbed a finger at an advertisement. "He’ll fit in here."

Clara leaned forward, her stomach twisting as she read the bold black letters: Unique Acts Wanted! Join the Grand Circus!

"No." Her voice cracked, and tears blurred her vision. "I’m not giving up Adam. I can’t."

"He’s not yours, Clara," Marcus said harshly, leaning in closer. "He’s not your real son, and this—this circus will take care of him. They’re offering good money, Clara. You can finally breathe. You can get out of this hellhole."

Clara shook her head violently, her tears falling freely now. "I love him. He’s my son, Marcus! How can you even suggest this?"

"Because you’re drowning!" Marcus shouted. "Your bills have tripled, and I can’t keep bailing you out. Do you think I like this? Do you think I want this for you? For him? But you’ve left me no choice."

He slammed the newspaper shut. "The circus has already offered a pretty penny, Clara. They’ll be here in an hour."

The room fell silent. Clara stared at him, her chest heaving as the words sank in.

"You already made the deal," she whispered, her voice hollow. "You sold my son before even asking me."

Marcus didn’t flinch, though guilt flickered across his face. "You couldn’t keep him, Clara. You know that. It’s for the best."

When the circus master arrived, dressed in a shabby brown suit that reeked of damp wool and cheap cigars, Clara couldn’t bear to watch. She locked herself in her tiny bedroom, burying her face in her hands as Adam’s voice, bright and trusting, called out, "Mama? Mama!"

The sound broke her, and she sobbed into her hands, guilt and despair washing over her like a tidal wave. The door creaked open behind her, but she couldn’t look. She couldn’t face the moment when they would take her son from her.

Adam’s cries grew louder as they carried him away, his small voice calling for her one last time. "Mama! Don’t let them take me! Mama!"

The door slammed shut, and the apartment fell silent except for Clara’s muffled sobs. She couldn’t forgive herself—not now, not ever. Outside, the circus master handed Marcus a stack of bills, tipped his hat, and disappeared into the night with Adam.

Adam was only seven years old, and the last thing he saw as they bundled him into the wagon was the faint outline of the flat where his mama had hidden from him, her love buried beneath the weight of her guilt.

Fred saw Adam as nothing more than a grotesque goldmine. From the moment the boy entered the circus, Fred wasted no time in parading him onstage as the "Freak Child." Audiences gasped and whispered behind their hands as Adam was brought out, crawling clumsily across the stage. He would tumble and roll, his tiny, limbless body performing involuntary acts that Fred framed as entertainment. The crowd erupted in laughter, but it was a cruel, hollow sound that echoed like mockery through the circus tent.

Adam didn’t understand why they laughed or what they wanted from him. Fred told him, again and again, that if he worked hard enough, he could earn his way back to his mama. That promise was the tether to which Adam clung, the single thread of hope that kept him going. So, he smiled as best he could, dragged himself across the stage, and endured the taunts of strangers who saw him as nothing more than a curiosity. Fred counted the profits, pocketing thousands as word of Adam spread. People travelled from far and wide to see the "freak show child," and Fred’s pockets grew heavy with gold.

But as Adam grew older, the novelty wore off. The laughter faded, and the crowds thinned. Adam tried to do more, to sew costumes for himself or add flair to his appearances, but it wasn’t enough. Fred, once gloating and indulgent, became cruel. When Adam asked about returning home, Fred sneered and spat venomous words.

"Your mother doesn’t want you," he snarled. "Why do you think she sold you to me?"

The words shattered Adam’s fragile hope, leaving him trembling with disbelief.

"That’s not true," he whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. "She loves me. She said so."

"Love?" Fred barked a bitter laugh. "If she loved you, she’d be here. Face it—you’re nothing but a disappointment."

When the audiences dwindled to nothing, Fred’s patience ran out entirely. He began locking Adam away between shows, confining him to trunks or cupboards like a discarded toy. The other performers, jealous of the attention Adam had once received, delighted in his misery. They stuffed insects into his hiding spots, laughing cruelly as Adam screamed and thrashed in fear.

The performers’ cruelty escalated. They told Adam that if he could learn real tricks—balancing on a ball, juggling—Fred would forgive him and send him back to his mama.

"You want to see her, don’t you?" they cooed mockingly.

Desperate, Adam begged them to teach him, clinging to the shred of hope they dangled before him. They agreed, but it was all a cruel prank. They had him perform ridiculous stunts, like spinning aimlessly or pretending to dance, things that only drew eye-rolls from the sparse audiences.

Their taunts grew sharper. "Look at you!" they sneered. "Even Fred doesn’t want you now."

Adam’s spirit crumbled under the weight of their ridicule. He became more isolated, barely able to move, spending his days crawling about like a shadow of the boy he once was.

Then came the prank that changed everything. One night, the performers drugged Adam, carrying him to a mechanic under the pretence of "fixing" him. They told the mechanic to give Adam what he needed to "truly perform." The mechanic, unburdened by ethics, created something monstrous: a spider-like lower body of sharp, mechanical legs and two grotesque, human-like arms grafted to Adam’s torso. When Adam awoke, he screamed, the pain of his transformation overwhelming him. He stared in horror at his new body, unable to comprehend what had been done to him.

When Adam stumbled back to the circus, the performers recoiled in terror. Screams filled the tent as Fred confronted him, his face twisted in rage.

"You can’t stay here," Fred growled. "You’re scaring the customers away."

Rocks flew through the air, one striking Adam’s face and drawing blood. Broken and defeated, Adam fled into the streets, his new legs clattering awkwardly beneath him.

The world was no kinder. Wherever Adam went, people screamed, throwing stones or kicking him when he stumbled. Groups of children tormented him, pushing him into the mud and calling him a monster. Adam learned to avoid the streets altogether, hiding in shadowy alleyways where the world couldn’t see him.

One bitterly cold winter evening, Adam caught sight of her. Clara, his mama, walked down the street bundled in a worn coat, her breath misting in the icy air. Adam’s heart leapt.

 "Mama!" he called out, his voice raw with emotion. He shuffled closer, the mechanical limbs hidden beneath his tattered cloak.

Clara turned, her eyes widening as she recognized the voice.

"Adam?" she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. She ran toward him, her arms outstretched. "Oh, Adam! My boy, I’ve missed you so much."

She cupped his face, her hands trembling. "I’m so sorry. I never should have let them take you."

Adam’s heart swelled with joy.

"Mama," he said softly. "You still love me?"

"Of course, I love you," she said, smiling through her tears. "Come home with me. Please."

Overwhelmed with relief, Adam stepped forward, his mechanical legs emerging from the shadows. Clara’s smile froze. Her eyes darted down, taking in the grotesque appendages, and her face twisted in horror. She stumbled back, her hands flying to her mouth.

"Stay away from me!" she screamed, her voice sharp and panicked. "You’re a monster!"

Adam’s chest tightened, his voice trembling. "Mama, it’s still me. I’m still Adam. Please—"

"No!" she cried, backing away. "My brother was right. You’re not my son anymore. You’re a freak!"

Her words stabbed into him like knives, and as she turned and ran, Adam collapsed onto the cold, wet pavement. He watched her retreating form disappear into the night, his green eyes overflowing with tears. For the first time, Adam truly believed the world’s cruellest lie: that he was a monster.

“Mama!” Adam cried out, his voice cracking in desperation as his mechanical limbs scraped against the cobblestones. Rainwater pooled beneath him, chilling his exposed skin as he dragged his new, unwieldy body forward.

“Mama, please! It’s me!”

His heavy, spider-like legs clattered awkwardly, the sharp edges catching on broken bricks and discarded trash. He pushed through the pain, his mind spinning in confusion. Why had she run away? Why had her warm embrace turned to horror? He kept calling, his voice hoarse and shaking.

 “Mama, don’t go! Why are you running? What’s wrong with me?”

But she was gone, her footsteps lost in the sound of the night’s cold wind. Adam came to a halt, his body trembling as exhaustion took hold. He panted, the weight of his altered body bearing down on him. For the first time, a terrible thought crept into his mind: Am I… terrifying?

He turned his head slowly, and his breath hitched in his throat. In the cracked and dirt-smeared windows of the alleyway, he caught his reflection—and froze. His pale, gaunt face, streaked with tears, looked back at him. But beneath it, his body was something out of a waking nightmare. The twisted mechanical legs writhed like the limbs of a spider, their movements unnatural and jagged. The human-like mechanical arms dangled stiffly at his sides, their sharp joints clicking with every tiny motion.

Adam’s lips parted, a small, broken sound escaping him before it grew into a guttural scream. His cry echoed down the alleyway, raw and filled with anguish. He stumbled backward, his mechanical limbs tangling and twisting around one another. The reflection seemed to sneer at him, its grotesque form mocking his existence.

“No! No, no, no, no!” Adam screamed, clawing at his face as though he could tear away the monster he’d become.

He backed into a pile of trash bins, the loud clatter startling him, but he couldn’t stop. He fell into the heap, his body writhing as he tried to escape his reflection. His vision blurred, the alley spinning as tears clouded his eyes.

And then, amidst the chaos in his mind, he heard it.

Laughter.

At first, it was faint, like an echo from the farthest corners of the night. Then it grew louder, twisting into cruel murmurs that seemed to fill the alleyway. Adam’s eyes darted around, searching for the source, but there was no one. Yet the voices came closer, surrounding him, suffocating him.

“Look at it,” a voice sneered, sharp and cold.

“Such a hideous thing,” another whispered, mocking and vile.

Among the voices, he swore he heard Clara’s. Her gentle tones, now laced with disgust, hissed through the darkness. “That’s not my son. That’s not my Adam. He’s just a monster.”

“No! No, Mama, it’s not true!” Adam cried, clawing at the ground as if he could pull himself out of the nightmare. But the laughter only grew louder, the whispers more venomous.

The last thing he saw before his body gave out was the faint reflection of the monster in the window, its twisted limbs still moving as if alive on their own. His vision darkened, the noises fading into a distant hum as he collapsed fully into the trash heap. For the first time in a long time, unconsciousness claimed him—a mercy, a reprieve from the endless torment.

Adam awoke to the dim, grey light of early morning. Frost clung to the edges of the alley, and his breath came in shallow, visible puffs. The cold seeped into his skin, aching deep in his bones. He blinked slowly, his vision clearing to reveal the broken remains of the trash bins around him. His body ached, bruises blooming across his torso where his mechanical arms and legs had dug into him during his frantic movements.

He tried to move, but pain shot through him, forcing him to stop and gasp. He lay there for a long moment, the memories of the night before swirling in fragments. Laughter, whispers, the reflection in the window… His heart clenched as he thought of Clara, her scream of horror and the words that had crushed him.

But there was a fog in his mind, a haze that blurred the worst of it. He couldn’t quite piece together what had happened after he’d seen himself. Perhaps it was a blessing. Perhaps it was the only kindness the universe would grant him: the chance not to remember.

As the sun rose higher, Adam slowly pushed himself upright, his mechanical limbs clanking beneath him. The alley was silent now, but the chill in the air matched the emptiness he felt inside. His green eyes, dulled with grief, stared blankly ahead. There was no one waiting for him. No home to return to. No warmth left in the world.

For the first time, Adam realized he was truly, utterly alone and in so much agony that he couldn’t see straight…

~#~

Adam’s blurry vision struggled to adjust as he awoke again, the dim, watery light of early dawn piercing through the cardboard boxes that formed his makeshift shelter. His body ached—burning, twisting pain radiated from where the mechanical spider limbs connected to his small, frail frame. His arms trembled, the muscles raw and overused, while the grinding of his prosthetic appendages sent jolts of agony up his spine. Every movement was a reminder of his existence as a patchwork creature, a monster forced into a form not his own.

As he shifted, the faint, cruel laughter from a distant group echoed through the alleyway. He stifled a whimper and pressed himself further into the shadows, pulling a torn olive shawl closer around his body. The fabric, stained with rust and streaked with dried and fresh blood, clung to him like a second skin, hiding most of the horrors beneath. Yet, no matter how much he tried to cover himself, the grotesque clicking and buzzing of his mechanical limbs always betrayed him.

This time, though, something was different.

A shadow fell across the alleyway, long and unnervingly human, but twisted at the edges as if it didn’t quite belong. Adam’s button-green eyes blinked, staring at the figure emerging from the fog—a man clad entirely in black. His form was lanky, almost skeletal, with an impossibly tall top hat that added to his already looming presence. A feather striped in lime green and maroon jutted jauntily from the hat, swaying as he moved. His cloak, lined with vibrant green accents, swirled like smoke around his legs, which were clad in leather pants tucked into knee-high boots that clicked softly against the wet stones.

Adam squinted through his haze of fear and exhaustion, trying to make sense of the figure’s face, but it was shadowed beneath the brim of the hat. Only a pair of eyes, unnervingly sharp and glowing a vibrant lime green, pierced the darkness, their gaze locked onto him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Well, well, well,” the man said, his voice warm yet unnervingly buoyant, as though every word teetered on the edge of a laugh. His accent was unfamiliar, an odd melody of lilting tones and sharp consonants that Adam couldn’t place.

“What have we here? The infamous spider monster of the alleyway. My, my… the stories didn’t do you justice.”

Adam froze, his limbs locking in place. The man’s gaze swept over him, lingering on his mechanical appendages. He whistled low and slow, crouching slightly to better inspect Adam’s hunched form. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like this before. You’re a marvel, my boy—a true masterpiece of horror and ingenuity.”

Adam flinched, his shoulders hunching as he tried to shrink back further into the darkness. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice cracked, and the words died in his throat.

The man raised a hand, waving dismissively. “Ah, no need to speak! It’s fine, really. Don’t strain yourself. I’ll do the talking.”

His grin widened, teeth flashing unnaturally white in the gloom. “I’ve heard all about you, you know. The monster that lurks in the shadows, kidnaps children, and haunts the nightmares of this miserable little town. Quite the reputation, eh?”

Adam’s eyes widened, and he whined softly, shaking his head in protest. The man chuckled, the sound low and rich, like a cat purring after a cruel joke. “Oh, I know it’s all rubbish. A load of bollocks, isn’t it? People love their scary stories. Makes their mundane lives feel a little less dull.”

He tilted his head, his grin softening, though the glow of his lime-green eyes remained sharp. “But I couldn’t help myself. I had to see the ‘monster’ for myself. Imagine my surprise when I discovered… you.”

Adam stared at him in confusion, his button eyes reflecting the faint light.

The man straightened, clasping his hands together in exaggerated delight. “You’re Adam, aren’t you? The boy from Cowshuff Circus—the little crawler who used to scuttle across the stage for the crowd’s amusement? Oh, yes, I’ve heard the stories. That’s you, isn’t it?”

Adam recoiled slightly, a sharp cough escaping him as the man’s breath—strange and sickly sweet, like overripe fruit—wafted too close. His limbs clattered as he tried to pull away, but the man only laughed again, his voice tinged with childlike glee.

“I want you to join my circus,” the man declared suddenly, throwing his arms wide. “The Hazbin Circus! It’s going to be the most spectacular, shocking, dazzling show the world has ever seen, and you, my dear boy, will be its first star. The first Hazbin! How exciting is that?”

Adam said nothing, his silence more telling than words. He stared at the man with an expression that hovered between disbelief and exhaustion.

The man’s grin faltered slightly, and he crouched again, this time meeting Adam’s gaze on his level. His voice dropped; the cheerful tone replaced by something softer, almost tender.

“What do you want, Adam? Tell me. What is it you truly want?”

Adam blinked slowly; his button eyes glossy with unshed tears. He hesitated, his voice cracking as he finally whispered, “I… I want to go home. I want the pain to stop.”

The man tilted his head thoughtfully, his grin creeping back onto his face. “Ah, yes. The pain. Of course.”

He stood suddenly, clapping his hands together. “We can work something out. You perform for me—just one show, maybe two—and I’ll take away the pain. And as for going home… we’ll see about that. What do you say?”

Adam tilted his head, his mechanical limbs shifting uneasily beneath him.

“You… can make the pain stop?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“Absolutely,” the man said, his grin splitting his face in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. “Trust me. Just come to my Hazbin Hotel—well, mansion, really—by dawn. It’s where all the magic happens.”

Before Adam could ask more, the man turned, sweeping his cloak around him as he strode to the alley’s exit.

“I am your new ringmaster, Zestial,” he called over his shoulder, tipping his hat. “It will be my pleasure to assist you.”

The building loomed before Adam like a sleeping giant, its spires piercing the ashen sky. He felt insignificant, an insect scuttling beneath its oppressive shadow. Towering and labyrinthine, the mansion seemed to shift as he stared, its silhouette flickering with an almost predatory stillness. Thousands of glassy windows stared back at him, cold and unblinking. On the left, the panes shimmered with vivid, kaleidoscopic colors, a cascade of stained glass depicting fragmented, unknowable scenes. The right wing was a stark contrast—its tall, arched windows shielded by intricate Victorian iron bars, as though guarding secrets too terrible to escape.

It was a house out of one of his mama’s storybooks, a fairytale palace draped in magic and menace. Six floors stretched upward, each crowned with mismatched tiled roofs, the central section morphing into a towering clock face that ticked solemnly, its hands crawling forward like prisoners of time. Above it, a thin bell tower rose into the mist, its enormous brass bell swinging with each deep, resonant chime that rippled through the gardens like a command. The sound didn’t just fill the air—it seemed to seep into Adam’s bones, vibrating against his mechanical limbs as if urging him closer.

Sprawling gardens encircled the mansion, like sirens beckoning him to explore. The front garden was a sea of ruby-red roses, their petals so vivid they seemed to bleed into the night. They were unnervingly perfect, not a single leaf out of place, their thorns glistening as though freshly sharpened. For a fleeting moment, Adam was captivated. He wanted to see more—the other gardens, the hidden corners of this enchanting, ominous estate—but the sharp tug of his mechanical prosthetics snapped him back to reality. The weight of the monstrous appendages dragged at his thin body, their grinding and clicking a constant reminder of the unnatural pain tethered to his every step.

Exhausted, Adam dragged himself toward the double doors. Each scrape of his spider-like limbs across the pale stone echoed unnaturally in the cold air, the sound a metallic scream that seemed swallowed by the mansion’s silence. His mechanical hands, jittering with every motion, reached for the ornate rose-carved handles. The glass within the doors shimmered faintly, its surface etched with thorny vines and blooming roses that almost seemed to shift under his touch.

He hesitated, staring up at the doors. His shawl, once a deep olive, was now a ragged patchwork of rust and bloodstains, draped over his battered form. Beneath it, layers of filthy, yellowed bandages clung to his limbs, wrapping him like a grotesque gift. They hid the worst of him—the jagged scars, the wounds that never seemed to heal—but they couldn’t hide the spools of white thread embedded in his back, tiny reminders of the puppet-like horror he had become. He didn’t dare look too closely at himself; even the faintest glimpse of his reflection sent a shiver of revulsion through his body.

The pain was always there, a cruel symphony of burning nerves and grinding joints that turned every breath into an effort. His insides churned, twisting as if they were being wrung dry by unseen hands, but Adam had learned to endure. What other choice did he have?

Summoning the last of his strength, he knocked on the rose-carved door. His mechanical hand struck the wood with a dull, rattling thud. Nothing. Silence greeted him, stretching longer than seemed natural. He lifted his hand again, only for the door to groan open on its own, the sound like a sigh from the house itself.

The air inside the mansion was cooler, heavier, as if the building was alive and breathing around him. Unlike the rose-themed exterior, the welcome lounge was a shrine to the moon. Deep purples and shimmering blues dominated the space, painting the room in a twilight haze. The walls were adorned with murals of night skies and crescent moons that seemed to shift when Adam wasn’t looking directly at them. Stars glittered faintly in the painted voids, their soft glow mirrored by the crystal chandeliers that hung precariously from above, dripping with silver and glass like frozen tears.

The floor was obsidian, polished to a mirror-like shine that reflected distorted fragments of Adam’s spider-like limbs as he hesitantly stepped forward. A grand staircase dominated the far side of the room, its banisters carved from ebony and inlaid with glowing lunar motifs that pulsed faintly as he approached. Velvet drapes framed the tall windows, their fabric swaying ever so slightly despite the air being still. It was beautiful, hauntingly so, but there was an unmistakable tension in the air, an invisible weight pressing down on Adam’s shoulders.

His mechanical appendages buzzed and whirred, their noise jarring against the stillness of the room. Each sound seemed louder, sharper here, as though the mansion amplified it to remind him of what he was. Adam froze, unsure if he should move further. The room felt like it was waiting—watching. He didn’t belong here, that much was certain, but Zestial had told him to come.

The man’s words echoed in his mind as he stepped cautiously into the lounge, the faint, unnatural hum of the mansion’s air pressing against his ears. Each step was delicate, his movements slow and deliberate, as though one wrong move might awaken something he couldn’t face. And yet, despite the unease that crawled over his skin, there was a strange pull to the place—a magic he couldn’t ignore, one that whispered promises too tempting to resist.

Adam wobbled further into the dimly lit lounge, the soft hum of his mechanical limbs a steady reminder of the unnatural state of his existence. Each step sent a jolt of pain radiating through his fragile frame, yet the beauty of the place urged him onward. The small corridor widened, its walls narrowing and then blooming into an expansive space that took his breath away.

At the centre of the room stood a round table carved from dark, polished wood, its surface gleaming faintly in the faint moonlight streaming through the high arched windows. On either side of the table, grand spiral staircases wound upward, their twisting forms like frozen whirlpools of dark iron and lacquered oak. The intricate railings above formed a fence of smooth wooden beams, each panel bearing carvings of the moon’s phases. Crescent, full, waning, waxing—their intricate designs seemed to shimmer with a faint glow. Adam imagined how moonlight or sunlight filtering through the upper windows might cast enchanting patterns across the room below, making it a shifting, celestial dance of shadows and light.

As Adam neared the table, the faint scent of flowers reached him, a soft, earthy contrast to the mechanical oil and rust he had grown used to. His green button eyes fell upon a delicate vase resting at the table's centre. It was slender and graceful, made of deep blue glass that caught and refracted the light like trapped starlight. Arranged within it were six flowers, each striking in its solitary beauty: a dahlia with layered, jewel-toned petals; a cheerful, golden sunflower; a marigold that burned like embers; a drooping bluebell, quiet yet captivating; a clematis vine with its elegant, twining stems; and the black bat flower—dark, unsettling, and impossibly alluring.

The flowers seemed placed with intention; their vibrant petals almost glowing against the dim surroundings. Adam stared at them in silent awe, a pang of something he couldn’t name tugging at him. They meant something. He didn’t know how he knew that, but it was certain. The colours, the arrangement—it was no random decoration. It whispered a story he couldn’t yet decipher.

One of his mechanical arms twitched and jerked as he reached out, the movement accompanied by a harsh clinking sound. He stopped abruptly, his eyes catching on a series of faintly scratched words along the base of the vase. Tilting his head, Adam squinted, his green button eyes narrowing as he struggled to read the inscription.

The dahlia is a dancer.

Adam’s gaze lingered on the dahlia’s layered petals, their vibrant colours fanning out like the skirts of a performer mid-twirl. It exuded elegance, artistry, and grace, a flower that could only belong to someone who danced with their soul.

The sunflower, a happy clown.

He traced the sunflower’s cheerful face with his gaze, its bright yellow petals bursting outward like a painted grin. It radiated joy, a beacon of laughter and light, reminding him of the clowns who once brought audiences to tears of mirth.

The bluebell, a sad clown.

Adam’s gaze fell to the drooping bluebell. Its soft, melancholy shape tugged at him, its quiet, understated beauty carrying a sorrowful weight. It spoke of hidden sadness, of smiles that masked pain.

Clematis, an acrobat.

The vine twisted and curved, its structure effortlessly elegant. It climbed and reached as though in defiance of gravity, much like the acrobats who once defied the odds, bending and contorting themselves in graceful displays of agility.

The marigold, a lion tamer.

The fiery marigold stood out, its bold hues suggesting a courage Adam had only ever seen in tamers who dared face the ferocity of beasts. Its brightness felt like a challenge to the dark, a fierce defiance.

Adam’s gaze faltered as he reached the final flower.

The black bat flower, a spider crawler.

His lips trembled as he read the words, biting down hard to silence a whimper. The strange, spidery petals of the black bat flower with its long, filaments resembled something out of a nightmare. Its dark, unsettling beauty spoke of creatures that lurked in shadows, creeping with unnatural grace. It was him. It was what he had become.

He froze, his breath caught in his throat as a heavy silence settled around him. The flowers were no accident. Each was a role, a story. They were meant to be here, just as he was, and yet they felt like a judgment—an accusation. His trembling arm retreated, the mechanical joints clinking loudly as he pulled it back.

He stared at the black bat flower, the shadow of its petals stretching like claws across the polished wood of the table. Something deep inside him stirred, a cold, inescapable truth. He was the monster of this story, the spider crawling at the edge of the stage. And no flower could mask that.

The round table was draped in a ghostly, netted fabric, its edges fraying like cobwebs in the dim light. Arranged upon it in a perfect half-moon arc were six keys, each adorned with a delicate flower charm. They gleamed faintly, like tiny fragments of secrets bound to the unnatural air of the mansion. Adam’s green button eyes zeroed in on the black bat flower key almost instantly. His breath hitched as a deep, hollow ache settled in his chest. He didn’t want it—he knew it was his. It was always meant to be his.

Adam’s mechanical arms jerked as he tried to reach for it, their grinding and clanking loud in the oppressive silence. He froze mid-motion, a sharp grunt escaping his lips as a surge of pain shot through his frail body. His face twisted into a grimace, tears stinging his eyes. His nerves felt like they were on fire, the pain relentless, an unending torment that made his very existence unbearable. He sniffled softly, his chest heaving, the urge to collapse into the darkened corners clawing at him.

“Zestial promised,” Adam thought desperately, clutching at the thin thread of hope. “He promised the pain would stop if I came here. If I performed in his circus... If I did what he wanted.”

Zestial had promised him something else, too—he would send Adam home. But the pain... The pain was still there, alive and writhing under his skin like a thousand needles.

His spider-like prosthetic legs trembled, buckling under him, until at last he crumpled to the cold, hard floor before the table. A strangled wail tore from his throat, echoing in the vast emptiness of the room. He bowed his head, his button eyes squeezed shut against the endless, gnawing agony.

Then something rolled off the table above him. It struck the crown of his head with a hollow thunk and bounced to the ground. Adam flinched and let out a pitiful whimper, his mechanical hand awkwardly rubbing the sore spot. He glanced down and froze.

A bottle.

It was large and heavy, its smooth surface split into stark halves of white and black. Strange, unreadable words spiralled around its surface, but Adam’s focus was immediately drawn to a single detail: a medical sticker plastered on the side. His name was printed there, bold and unmistakable.

Adam.

The sight of it made his blood run cold. His throat tightened as he picked the bottle up, turning it over and over in his hands. It was for him? How could it be for him? His spider-like limbs clinked and wobbled as he forced himself upright, his body trembling with the effort. On the table now, two pieces of paper caught his eye—one crisp and ornate, the other small and yellowed. Adam frowned, his gaze flickering between the bottle and the yellowed scrap of paper before his mechanical hand reached out to grasp it.

The note was short and simple, but the words sent an icy shiver down his spine.

‘Adam,

Take three pills in the morning and in the evening. It will take the pain away. You can take them with or without food or water.

Oh, and another thing Adam. Let’s keep the pills between just the two of us. We wouldn’t want anyone finding out about them.

Signed, Zestial.’

Adam stared at the note, his lips trembling. His hands shook as he folded the paper, sliding it into the hidden recesses of his tattered shawl. With hesitant fingers, he shook the bottle, the sound of rattling pills echoing like tiny bones in a crypt. The lid was stiff, refusing to yield at first, until his prosthetic hand managed to wrench it free. Three pills spilled onto his palm, their yellow colour sickly and unnatural. He brought them closer, sniffing cautiously, but they gave off no scent.

The constant, gnawing pain in his body left him with no room for doubt. What else did he have to lose? Slowly, almost ritualistically, Adam tipped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry. The taste was nothing, the act mechanical. He waited.

Seconds passed. Then minutes.

Nothing.

The pain still raged through him, as relentless as before. His body burned, his joints ached, and his veins felt like they were filled with shards of ice. Adam whimpered, clutching the bottle to his chest as though it might offer him solace. Zestial had said the pills would work. They had to. Maybe by tomorrow, he’d wake up without the pain. Maybe by morning, he would be whole again.

Shoving the bottle into one of the many hidden pockets in his shawl, Adam’s gaze fell back to the black bat flower key. He reached for it with trembling hands, the charm’s delicate petals stark against the crude, jagged edges of his prosthetics. The key itself was strange, its shape irregular and unsettling, as if it had been carved from something ancient and half-forgotten. He chewed his bottom lip nervously, the sharp taste of blood faint on his tongue.

A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over Adam, gripping him with an invisible force. His knees buckled slightly as he staggered sideways, one mechanical hand rising to clutch his head. His spider-like prosthetic legs scraped and skittered against the polished floor, struggling to anchor him upright. The mansion’s lounge twisted and spun around him, a disorienting kaleidoscope of deep purples, blues, and glinting moonlight patterns. He wobbled unsteadily, bumping into the left staircase with a sharp clang.

Adam let out a soft, pained whine, his green button eyes fluttering as he fought to steady his vision. For a moment, it felt as though the world might slip away entirely, dragging him down into an abyss he feared he would not escape. But slowly, the spinning ceased, the edges of his sight sharpened, and the looming sense of vertigo ebbed.

Breathing heavily, Adam sniffed, a flicker of relief breaking through his panic as he glanced around the room. Everything seemed to have returned to normal. Or so it seemed.

That fragile sense of relief shattered in an instant.

The string-like hairs on Adam’s patched and scarred skin prickled with sudden unease. The air in the room turned cold, and an eerie creak cut through the silence. His gaze snapped toward the double rose-themed doors just as they began to groan and shift, their intricate glass panes glowing faintly in the dim light.

They moved.

On their own.

Adam’s breath hitched, and a gasp escaped his lips. His mechanical limbs jerked into motion, dragging his weary frame toward the darkened space beneath the staircase. Desperation clawed at him as he pressed himself into the shadows, his heart hammering like a drumbeat against his ribcage. He huddled there, his stitched shawl brushing the floor, as the doors swung open with deliberate slowness, revealing...

A figure.

Slim and lithe, the figure stepped through the doorway with an air of quiet surprise. They paused, one hand resting on the rose-carved handle, tilting their head as they regarded the peculiar way the doors had opened.

“Huh,” the figure muttered softly, the sound rich and lilting, sending a shiver down Adam’s spine. They tested the handle, wiggling it experimentally. “I wonder what trick this is.”

Adam stared, his button eyes wide and unblinking.

The figure appeared to be a man, though his appearance was far from ordinary. His skin was smooth and pale, almost porcelain-like, with rosy cheeks that seemed to glow faintly under the cold light. His hair—stingy yet soft-looking—was a peculiar combination of pale blonde and coral streaks, slicked back into a ducktail hairstyle with one playful tuft rebelliously sticking out.

But it was his eyes that ensnared Adam. They were unlike anything he had ever seen: light yellow on the outer edges, but fading into a deep, burning red at their centers. The strange, fiery hues radiated an unearthly beauty that made Adam’s chest ache, though he could not say why.

The man’s mouth, however, was something out of a nightmare. His lips were stitched at the corners with white thread, the stitches pulling his mouth into a wide, almost mocking smile. Behind that unsettling grin, Adam caught a glimpse of sharp teeth, glinting like tiny daggers.

His clothing was no less strange—a jumpsuit adorned with chaotic diamonds in bold reds, yellows, blues, and blacks. Around his neck was a grand Elizabethan ruff, as white as freshly fallen snow, and his wrists were framed with frilly cuffs. A leather belt cinched his waist, a small pouch resting on one side. Something about him suggested danger, a trickster’s chaos barely contained beneath the flamboyant attire.

Yet, despite the eeriness of his stitched smile, his eyes held a flicker of something else curiosity, perhaps. Or mischief.

Adam swallowed hard, the noise audibles even to his own ears. He’d seen doll-like figures before, plastered on posters and advertisements. They had grinned from cracked television screens, promising thrills and wonders in the hazy neon glow of carnival lights. But this man—this doll person—was real. And he was here.

And Adam? Adam was nothing special. He wasn’t a doll, wasn’t a marvel of craftsmanship. He was a monster now—stitched together, broken, twisted into something barely human.

The figure’s yellow-red eyes flicked toward the staircase, scanning the shadows with a precision that sent Adam’s heart into his throat. It felt as though those eyes might pierce the darkness, find him cowering like a wounded animal, and drag him into the light.

“I know you’re there,” the man said softly, his voice a silken thread that wove through the air with unnatural ease.

Adam froze, every nerve in his body screaming at him to stay silent, stay hidden. But his mechanical limbs betrayed him, releasing a faint, telltale whir.

The doll man’s lips curled into a sharper smile, his stitches tugging slightly.

“Come now,” he coaxed, his tone a playful melody tinged with something darker. “Hiding doesn’t suit you. And besides—”

He crouched low, his sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. “I don’t bite.”

He paused, then chuckled, the sound low and disarming. “Well, not unless you ask.”

Adam trembled, his spider limbs clicking nervously against the cold stone floor. He didn’t know whether to run or crawl forward. Every instinct in him screamed for flight, but something in the man’s tone... something in the way he spoke...

It felt as though the man were a part of this place, an extension of its strange, surreal beauty. And for reasons Adam couldn’t explain, a part of him wanted to know what would happen if he stepped into the light.

Adam drew in a shaky breath, the weight of inevitability settling over him like a damp shroud. There was no point in hiding now—the doll man had already spotted him, his strange, burning eyes scanning the shadows with unnerving precision. Resigned, Adam’s gaze fell to his own form, his patched-together frame a grotesque patchwork of scars, wires, and the mechanical limbs that whirred softly at his sides. A swell of dread churned in his chest. Would this man—no, this legend—be repulsed by him? Would he recoil, disgust etched into his too-perfect face?

Steeling himself, Adam’s spider-like limbs clicked against the floor as he began inching forward, his movements halting and unsteady. The mechanical joints released a faint hum with every step, a sound that seemed deafening in the vast, silent lounge. Slowly, he emerged from the shadows, his green button eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to meet the doll man’s gaze.

As he stepped into the light, a dreadful realization sank in, cold and heavy.

This wasn’t just anyone.

It was Lucifer Morningstar.

The name hit Adam like a slap, and for a moment, his legs threatened to give way beneath him. Lucifer Morningstar—star of the Hullabaloo Circus, a name spoken with reverence and awe across the circuit. He was a dazzling performer, famed for his silk-blond hair and infectious charm, a man whose blue button eyes had never betrayed an ounce of sorrow despite the horrors he’d survived. After the disaster that destroyed the Hullabaloo Circus, Lucifer had become a legend, a tragic figure whose sole purpose was to find the one responsible for the devastation of his home.

And now, he was standing here, in the Hazbin Circus.

Adam felt small. Worthless. He was no one, just a broken thing cobbled together by desperation and pain. Compared to Lucifer, he didn’t belong here. And yet, there was no turning back now.

Lucifer’s button eyes widened slightly as Adam stepped fully into view. There was no immediate revulsion on his face, but Adam kept his gaze firmly averted, unwilling to risk meeting the other man’s fiery stare.

“M-my name is Adam,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper, strained and trembling with uncertainty. “I’ve heard a lot about you, M-Mister Morningstar, and, um...”

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. He shuffled one foot against the carpet, the faint scrapes an oddly human gesture from someone so otherworldly.

“Oh, Adam,” he murmured, as if tasting the name on his tongue. His voice was melodic, a strange mixture of curiosity and detached amusement. “What... what are you doing here?”

Adam hesitated, forcing himself to glance up at Lucifer’s face. The doll man’s expression wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t warm either. It was as if he was weighing something about Adam, a calculation hidden behind those bright, stitched features.

“Ah, um... I-I’m... flattered?” Adam muttered, fumbling for the words. “The host invited me to... uh...”

He trailed off, his nerves catching up to him. The reality of why he was here pressed down like a lead weight: he had to perform. To survive. To escape this pain that gnawed at him endlessly.

Lucifer arched a brow, his curiosity sharpening. “Honoured to perform, are we?”

Adam nodded quickly, his movements jerky. “Y-yes... that’s right. I was... invited to join the Hazbin Circus.”

His voice faltered, but he pressed on. “Um, this was left f-for us... this play for us. I haven’t had a chance to fully read it yet, but it—it’s on the table. M-maybe we could prepare together? I-I mean...”

Before Adam could finish, Lucifer turned sharply on his heel, striding toward the table with a grace that seemed almost theatrical. He snatched up the parchment and unfurled it, his mismatched button eyes scanning the inked words with an intensity that made Adam’s chest tighten.

“Five children go to the park,” Lucifer read aloud, his voice tinged with an edge of intrigue. “They arrive excited but leave with long faces.”

He lowered the parchment, glancing at Adam with a wry smile. “This is certainly... interesting. But, you see, it’s already quite late.”

Adam nodded automatically, his voice small. “Of course, of course... t-tomorrow, perhaps?”

Lucifer held the parchment out to him, his expression thoughtful. “Adam, this play needs at least five actors. There are only two of us here. We can’t hope to perform it alone.”

Adam’s hands trembled slightly as he took the parchment, his green button eyes skimming the cryptic words. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible. “They’ll come. Someone will come. Why don’t we wait until everyone is here?”

Lucifer hummed softly, plucking a matchbox from the table. He struck a match with practiced ease, lighting the candles one by one. As the flickering flames illuminated the space, his gaze fell to the vase of flowers at the table’s centre. He pinched the clematis flower between his fingers, scoffing softly.

“Useless,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to the room. Picking up a freshly lit candle, he wandered past Adam, his curiosity piqued by the sprawling mansion.

“I plan to explore this place tomorrow,” Lucifer said, his tone lighter, almost playful. “We’ve never lived in such a grand place before, have we?”

“That’s true... M-Mister Morningstar,” Adam stammered, glancing at him nervously.

Lucifer turned back, fixing him with an amused smile.

“It’s Lucifer,” he corrected gently. “You can call me Lucifer.”

He gestured toward the parchment in Adam’s hands. “If you’re not interested in a tour, why not pick a role and practice? The last child... that one would suit you.”

Adam’s gaze dropped to the parchment again, the inked words swimming before his tired eyes. The final role did seem... easier. Less time in the spotlight. Less time for others to laugh at him.

Lucifer bowed slightly, his movements as graceful as a dancer’s. “Good night, Adam. It was nice to meet you.”

Adam’s heart clenched painfully.

“N-nice to meet you too,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as Lucifer turned and ascended the stairs.

Before disappearing from sight, Lucifer glanced back one last time, bowing fully with the flair of a true star.

“Good night, Adam,” he said softly, his voice lingering like the fading notes of a lullaby.

“G-good night, M-Mister Morningstar—uh, I mean... Lucifer,” Adam whispered, watching until the doll man vanished into the shadows above, leaving him alone once more in the cavernous lounge.

Adam waited in the heavy silence, his eyes fixed on the faint golden glow of Lucifer’s candle as it flickered out of sight. Only when the last glimmer disappeared did he let out a trembling breath, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. Every inch of his patched-together body ached, a dull, gnawing pain that never let him rest. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, to sink into unconsciousness and hope that, by morning, the relentless burn and throb would ease.

But instead, his gaze fell back to the parchment on the table. The script. Their script. Zestial’s instructions were clear—this was the play they were to perform. Adam reread the lines, his mechanical limbs softly humming as he leaned closer. The final child. That role was a mirror of his reality—a figure twisted by their reflection, monstrous and malformed. It was a role meant for someone like him, someone grotesque, someone who belonged in the shadows.

And yet...

Adam’s button eyes lingered on the description of the paired children. Childhood lovers, their bond unbroken even in the face of darkness. Something deep within him ached, an unspoken wish clawing to the surface. He wanted that. Not the ridicule, not the disgust, but the tender devotion those characters shared. It was a foolish hope—he was no romantic lead, no beloved figure worthy of affection.

He whimpered softly, lowering his head in shame. What was he even thinking? Dreams like that weren’t for creatures like him. The final child, the broken one—that was his fate. It always had been.

The sound of a voice startled him, soft and almost hesitant.

“Excuse me? Is anybody here?”

Adam’s whole body jerked, his mechanical legs clumsily skittering as he scrambled away from the table. His limbs caught on the carpet, and he nearly toppled over in his rush to hide. He glanced toward the rose-themed doors just as they closed with an ominous thud, revealing a slender figure standing in the entryway.

A doll.

She was breathtaking, her pale porcelain skin glowing faintly in the dim candlelight. Golden, thread-like hair cascaded down her back, braided neatly to her ankles. Her large button eyes, cross-stitched with fine black thread, glimmered with an eerie depth. Mascara streaked her cheeks like faint tears, and her lips, painted in a soft pink, curved in a delicate expression of surprise. She wore a rich purple-and-pink fur coat, a coral pink leotard with intricate golden details, and satin slippers laced with gold trim. Yet her beauty was marred, her left forearm and right leg torn to reveal cotton stuffing spilling from within.

The moment their eyes met, her button eyes widened in fright. She released a shaky breath and stepped back, her movements halting and uncertain.

Adam froze, panic clawing at his chest. He tried to retreat further, but his mechanical limbs betrayed him, bumping against the table and sending the vase of flowers tumbling to the floor. He let out a broken whine, fumbling desperately to gather them up. His trembling hands and erratic limbs made the task nearly impossible.

To his shock, the doll did not flee.

Instead, she stepped forward, crouching gracefully to help. Her movements were delicate, as though she feared breaking something fragile. She picked up the fallen flowers and gently placed them back into the vase.

“I know you,” she said softly, her voice like a faint melody as she stood. She adjusted the vase carefully before turning her gaze back to Adam. “We met once, at Cowshuff Circus.”

Adam blinked, his green button eyes widening as the memory stirred, faint but familiar. His voice was hesitant, barely audible. “L-Lilith?”

Her expression didn’t soften. There was no smile, no spark of warmth. Instead, she raised a slender hand and pointed at him with a slow, deliberate motion. “You scared me, Adam.”

Her gaze swept over his mechanical body, lingering on the awkward joints and exposed wires. She took a cautious step back.

Turning her attention to the table, her eyes landed on the flower keys arranged neatly across its surface. She picked up the dahlia key and held it delicately.

“Adam,” she said, her voice quiet yet steady, “Were you also invited to perform?”

Adam swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

“Y-yes, I was. The h-host left this play for us to follow...” He held out the parchment with trembling hands.

Lilith—or was it still Lilith?—took the script carefully, holding it near one of the lit candles to read. “They want to ride the roller coaster, but there are only four seats...” she murmured, her stitched brows knitting together. “This is the play the host wants us to perform?”

Adam nodded again, his voice thin and anxious. “Y-yes... I think so. I was just trying to familiarize myself with the parts.”

A faint frown touched her lips. She tapped the edge of the parchment thoughtfully. “Hmm. It reads like a folk rhyme. For it to become a real play, we’ll need to adapt it... carefully.”

Adam’s breath hitched. “O-oh, it’s such an honour, Lilith.”

His mind flickered with fragmented memories from his time at Fred’s Circus—half-forgotten faces, endless ridicule, and the suffocating dark of the storage trunks where he was locked away. But he remembered her. Lilith. She and her partner had once visited Fred’s Circus. He’d never met her partner, but Lilith herself had been dazzling, kind even. When they left without joining, Fred had been in a foul rage, taking his anger out on Adam with brutal kicks and curses.

Lilith’s button eyes darted back to the table. “Has someone not arrived yet?”

Adam followed her gaze, his voice soft. “Um... y-yes. There’s still one more key, but... there are six flowers in the vase. I-I think two people might have arrived before me.”

She tilted her head, muttering something under her breath.

Adam blinked, leaning forward slightly. “Um, d-did you say something, Lilith?”

She shook her head, handing the parchment back to him. “It’s nothing. Just a thought. Let me consider how we can arrange all of this.”

Without another word, she turned and began climbing the staircase.

“G-good night, Lilith,” Adam called weakly.

She paused halfway up, glancing back over her shoulder. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Adam, by the way... I am now called Margara, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Adam’s mechanical legs shifted nervously. “Y-yes, Margara... W-what a beautiful name. Just as pretty as Lilith... G-good night.”

Margara nodded once before continuing up the stairs. Adam watched her until she disappeared into the shadowed landing, the faint sound of her steps fading into silence.

And he was alone again.

Adam was alone again. The silence of the lounge pressed in around him, cold and suffocating. Lucifer and Lilith—no, Margara—had been kind to him. At least, kinder than most. They hadn’t hit him. They hadn’t kicked him. But Adam wasn’t naive; he had seen it in their button eyes—the flickers of judgment, the hints of disgust, the undertones of fear. It always lingered, no matter how polite their words were.

He turned his gaze to the table where the final key still lay untouched, its glimmer a quiet reminder that someone else was meant to join them. Adam squirmed uneasily, his mechanical limbs clicking softly as they shifted. His green button eyes flicked to the staircases, looming and grand, and then down to the metal spider-like appendages attached to his frail, patchwork body.

There was no way.

The stairs were impossible for someone like him. His oversized, grotesque anatomy would never fit, let alone allow him to ascend. The thought of struggling halfway up, only to get stuck, made his chest tighten with dread. His buttons glistened as tears welled up, spilling over in hot, silent trails. He turned his head to look over his shoulder at the hulking mass of metal fused to him, its polished, unyielding form so alien, so hideous.

Once, he had been small. Fragile, yes, but whole. Human. Now, he was a monstrous thing, stitched together with wires and screws. A mockery of what he used to be. His body, once his own, had become a cage.

A soft, broken whimper escaped his lips as he sniffled, dragging himself forward. The lounge was vast, its towering shadows swallowing him whole. He scuttled awkwardly, the mechanical legs clinking and scraping against the floor as he moved toward one of the massive doorframes. He peeked through, but it was pitch black beyond—a void.

Of course, he couldn’t see in the dark. His grotesque transformation hadn’t granted him any spider-like abilities. Not that he would have wanted that, anyway.

Adam twisted back, his gaze returning to the staircases. The left one caught his eye, its shadowy alcove revealing another door. Maybe... just maybe.

Dragging himself closer, he leaned his weight against the door, testing it with his shoulder. The wooden frame groaned but gave way, sliding open just enough to reveal a narrow, cramped storage cupboard. The faint smell of dust and old wood met his nose, and the shadows inside seemed less daunting than the abyss beyond the larger doors.

The space was small—just enough to hold a few boxes and scattered odds and ends. It would be tight, suffocating even, but it was better than risking the stairs. Better than being found stuck in the morning, humiliated and helpless.

Adam inhaled deeply, steadying himself, and began squeezing his bulk into the cupboard. The mechanical limbs scraped and folded awkwardly as he maneuverer himself inside. At last, he managed to turn around, lying down as best as he could. He crossed the sharp, mechanical arms over his chest and rested his head atop them, his shiny, tear-streaked green buttons reflecting the faint sliver of moonlight spilling through the small window above.

The moon was beautiful, shimmering like a beacon in the darkness. Adam stared at it, his thoughts drifting to another time, another place. He had grown used to sleeping in tight spaces—dumpsters, alleys, cardboard boxes—but this felt heavier somehow. The weight of the silence, of his monstrous body, pressed down on him like never before.

His throat tightened as he sniffled, a quiet sound that barely broke the stillness. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be this. The thought of home crept into his mind—his real home.

‘Mama... will you still love me?’

His voice trembled in his head as he fought back the sobs rising in his chest. Would she accept him? Would she still see the boy he used to be beneath the layers of metal and despair?

Adam’s eyes grew heavy, the overwhelming exhaustion finally overtaking him. As his mind began to slip into restless dreams, a single tear slid down his porcelain cheek, pooling where it fell. The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was the moonlight, a fleeting comfort in the suffocating dark.

Whining softly, Adam stirred as a sliver of light streamed through the cupboard’s tiny window, landing on his face. His button eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented, but it wasn’t just the light that had roused him—it was the voices.

Raised voices.

Nearly arguing.

“See? I told you! Most people might miss this performance, but not our superstar, Lilith! Oh wait—sorry, it’s Margaretha now, isn’t it?” Lucifer’s mocking tone rang through the space, sharp as a blade.

Adam blinked, his curiosity piqued and his heart pounding. What was happening? His head lifted slightly, the dull ache in his mechanical limbs momentarily forgotten as he strained to hear.

“Running off again, Lilith?” Lucifer’s voice rose, dripping with accusation and scorn.

“That’s all over now, Morningstar!” snapped a sharp voice from above—the unmistakable edge of Lilith, though the anger in her tone made her sound almost unrecognizable. “Move on, like the rest of us! Stop clinging to the past!”

Lucifer released a sharp, humourless laugh, bitter and venomous.

“No. It won’t ever end, you shameful liars, deserters—” He paused, his voice a venomous hiss. “Murderers.”

The word struck like a thunderclap, reverberating in the silence that followed.

A door slammed upstairs, rattling the walls. Adam jumped at the sound, his mechanical legs clinking noisily against the wooden floor of the cupboard as he scrambled to steady himself. His breath hitched, his entire body stiffening with fear.

The tension in the air was suffocating. He dared not move, afraid to draw attention to his hiding place. What was Lucifer talking about? Liars, deserters, murderers. The words repeated in his mind, icy tendrils of unease wrapping around his thoughts. He’d always known something terrible had happened at Hullabaloo, but this? Could Margaretha—Lilith—have been part of that same catastrophe?

“Hmph,” Lucifer’s voice broke the silence again, colder now, almost distant. “Same as ever, Joker. Always lurking in the shadows, aren’t you?”

A soft hum came from across the lounge, and a voice Adam didn’t recognize—delicate, feminine—spoke hesitantly. “You... you shouldn’t speak to her like that. She doesn’t deserve it.”

Adam froze, his button eyes widening in curiosity. Who was that?

“Oh?” Lucifer’s tone twisted, laced with mocking incredulity. “And what should I call her then? A charlatan? A deserter? Or perhaps...”

“Don’t.”

The stranger’s voice cut him off, firm but low, trembling with restrained anger. “She’s none of those things. Don’t call her those names!”

Lucifer exhaled sharply, a sigh of frustration. “Joker—or should I say Eve? I understand she’s your friend, but—”

“She’s not just my friend!” Joker—Eve?—interjected fiercely, her voice trembling but resolute. “I wasn’t there, Lucifer! Steve sent me out that day for procurement. You knew that! It was Sentience Day—my presence wasn’t needed there. You can’t put this on me!”

Adam squinted through the crack in the cupboard door, his curiosity overtaking his fear. From the shadows, he could just make out the speaker: a petite female doll standing stiffly, her posture defensive.

She was unlike anyone Adam had seen before. Her pale skin bore scuffs and stitches, her tangled red curls spilling in chaotic waves. A single tear of black mascara streaked her cheek, her grey button eyes glinting faintly with sorrow and defiance. She wore a peculiar ensemble—part mime, part soldier—a black vest over a grey blouse, a red scarf with white polka dots draped loosely around her neck. Her right leg was entirely metal, a clinking prosthetic that glinted as she shifted her weight. A tiny black top hat sat askew on her head, a daisy poking cheerily from its ribbon, a stark contrast to the bitterness in her voice.

Adam’s gaze lingered on her in fascination. Joker? Or was she Eve? Lucifer had called her both, and neither name seemed to fit perfectly.

“None of us were innocent,” Lucifer’s voice softened, tinged with an edge of bitterness. “Not you, not her. Not me. But you can’t expect me to forget what happened. Not after—”

“Enough.” Joker’s voice quavered, but there was a finality to it. “Don’t pretend you’re the only one who lost something, Lucifer. I may not have been there, but do you think that spared me from what came after?”

The room fell silent, the weight of her words hanging thick in the air. Adam’s heart thudded in his chest, confusion swirling with dread. He didn’t understand half of what they were talking about, but the pain in their voices was unmistakable.

Lucifer let out a sharp exhale, and his footsteps echoed as he moved toward the door. “Believe what you want, Joker. But don’t expect me to forgive her—or you. Not yet.”

Squeezing his button eyes shut, Adam braced himself, expecting the familiar burning agony to ignite through his veins as he moved. He stiffened, waiting for the pain—but instead, there was only a dull, throbbing ache. Hesitant, Adam cracked open his eyes, blinking in confusion.

He glanced down at his body, then craned his neck to inspect the mechanical spider limbs that bound him. Tentatively, he moved one of the spindly metal arms, touching its cool surface with his small hand. There was no fiery pain, no stabbing sensation that usually accompanied movement. Instead, just a strange, muted pressure.

A shaky breath escaped him. His mechanical hand flexed, fingers moving smoothly, almost easily. It shouldn’t feel like this, but somehow, it did. Adam blinked rapidly, rummaging through his shawl until his fingers found the familiar bottle of yellow pills.

His breath hitched as he stared at the bottle. These pills—could they really be responsible for this strange relief? Hope flickered, fragile as candlelight. He fumbled with the lid, his hands trembling.

Before he could pry it open, the front doors burst open with a thunderous crash, the icy wind howling through the lounge. Snow swirled inside, glittering in the faint light, the freezing air biting at Adam’s skin.

“Damn, it’s freezing out there,” came a deep, unfamiliar voice.

“Michael?” Lucifer’s gasp was one of pure surprise, his voice lifting in genuine delight. “Good heavens, it’s splendid to see you again!”

Lucifer’s tone was unrecognizable—warm, even joyful. Adam stiffened, his button eyes darting to the edge of his hiding spot as Lucifer’s words took on a buoyancy he had never heard before.

“Lucifer,” the stranger—Michael—replied, his voice softer now, touched with relief. “I’m happy to see you too. Did you receive an invitation as well?”

“Something like that,” Lucifer laughed, brushing snow from Michael’s shoulders. “Is the snow heavy out there?”

Michael nodded, his expression shadowed with concern. “It’s not letting up. We’d best stay here until it eases.”

“That might be... problematic,” Joker’s voice broke through, quiet but weighty. She stood apart, her hands folded tightly in front of her, eyes downcast. “I’ve checked the kitchen. There isn’t much food left.”

Michael turned toward her, his expression softening. “Steve? Wait—no, Eve. I barely recognized you—it’s been so long.”

Joker nodded briefly, her movements stiff and guarded. “It has been a while, Michael.”

Lucifer shifted, throwing a casual arm around Michael’s shoulders, though his gaze flicked uneasily toward Joker. “Don’t fret about supplies. We’ve been reunited, and that’s fortune enough.”

Michael’s face brightened with a smile, but his tone carried hesitation. “And how is everyone?”

Joker’s posture tightened, her shoulders drawing inward.

 “It’s nearly lunchtime,” she murmured, retreating a step. “I’ll prepare something in the kitchen. I was always good at cooking.”

“Wait, Eve—” Michael started, reaching toward her. But she was already slipping through the doors leading to the kitchen, vanishing without another word.

Michael turned to Lucifer, confusion clouding his button eyes. “Lucifer, what’s happened? Did I say something wrong? I’ve been gone for so long...”

Lucifer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as though the question weighed heavily on him. “It’s... complicated.”

Adam barely registered their conversation, his focus consumed by the pills in his hand. He wrestled the cap off, spilling three pills into his trembling palm. Without hesitation, he swallowed them, chasing the hope they offered, the promise of dulling the ache.

But as the pills dissolved, his vision began to blur at the edges. A strange haze settled over his mind, muffling everything like a thick, dreamlike fog. He reached into his shawl again, pulling out a crumpled piece of parchment—the play he was supposed to study.

“Moon, River, Massacre,” he read aloud, his voice wobbling, a giggle slipping free. “That’s what they called it! The massacre! A lunatic slaughtered everyone!”

His laughter grew louder, uncontrollable. His mechanical legs twitched and jerked as he stumbled out of his hiding place, twirling clumsily into the open.

“Everyone, everyone!” Adam sang, his voice lilting with an eerie, childlike melody. “Oh, did I frighten you, Michael? I was frightened too! Wasn’t it convincing? My performance?”

Michael stared at him, bewildered, his expression flickering between concern and alarm. He glanced at Lucifer, who pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

“Adam,” Lucifer said sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Enough.”

The command stopped Adam cold. His laughter died in his throat, and his green button eyes widened, glimmering with sudden hurt. He hunched over, his mechanical limbs retracting slightly as though trying to make himself smaller.

“A-alright,” Adam stammered, his voice trembling. “I’ll say no more. I’ll leave now... It’s dreadful, isn’t it? My performance... I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

His spider legs scraped softly against the floor as he backed away, folding in on himself. A laugh threatened to bubble up again, but he bit it down, his vision swimming with glittering pink and blue.

Michael’s jaw tightened as he looked at Lucifer. Without a word, he stepped forward and crouched beside Adam, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Adam,” Michael said softly, his voice steady and warm. “Don’t be frightened. Lucifer is just... unsettled. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

The warmth in his words broke through the fog clouding Adam’s mind. He nodded hesitantly, letting Michael’s touch guide him toward the kitchen. The doors creaked open as Michael led him through, but Adam didn’t look back. He couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever awaited in the kitchen, in Joker’s quiet sadness, held secrets far heavier than the snowstorm raging outside.

Michael lingered by the doorway, casting a long look at Lucifer. "I'm sorry, Luci. I didn’t know..." His voice was quiet, a tender apology weighted with years of distance.

Lucifer offered a faint, wistful smile. "It’s alright, Mike. Truly, I’m fine. You should check on them, though. After all..."

His gaze shifted, his expression softening. "No one here knows how to survive in these conditions like you."

Michael hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.”

He patted Lucifer’s shoulder and turned, following Adam into the kitchen.

Adam was already marvelling at the towering cabinets and polished counters, his mechanical legs clicking softly against the tiled floor as he spun around. His button eyes gleamed, shimmering like wet glass under the warm kitchen light.

Joker was by the counter, her hands moving deftly as she tried to scrape together something edible from their meagre supplies. She glanced at Adam, her red hair a tangle of shadow and fire under the faint light. Her lips pressed into a thin line, wary of the excitable doll bounding toward her.

Michael, however, crouched slightly, his tone soft. "Adam? What do you think of the kitchen?"

Adam beamed, his lips curling into a wide smile as his spider-like limbs clattered behind him. “It’s so big! Bigger than me! And look! Look at all the pots!”

He pointed with one of the mechanical arms, which wobbled unsteadily. “Do you use them all at once? Are they magic pots? Ooh, do they sing songs?!"

Joker blinked, caught off guard by his childish enthusiasm. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Michael chuckled, stepping closer. “Not magic, Adam. Just regular old pots.”

Adam giggled, spinning on one heel, his shawl fluttering slightly. "Pots! Pots everywhere! Ooh, Joker, is that your name? Is it because you make jokes? Can I tell you one? What do you call a spider with no legs? A raisin!"

Michael stifled a laugh, but Joker’s lips twitched.

“That’s... an interesting one,” she murmured, her voice hesitant but not unkind.

Adam tilted his head, his green button eyes wide. "Do you like jokes? I bet you do, you have funny hair! It’s all red and wild, like fire! I like fire... but it hurts sometimes, doesn’t it?”

His voice trailed off into a whisper, and his gaze briefly clouded before brightening again.

Joker blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but Michael placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him, his warm smile encouraging her to relax.

“Adam,” Michael began, crouching to meet him at eye level, “Have you eaten today?”

Adam froze, his mechanical legs stilling as he hummed thoughtfully. “Eaten? Ohhh, that’s a funny word! Eaaaaten! Eee-eee-aten!”

He twirled in a quick circle, his giggles ringing like chimes. "Nope! Don’t think so. Or maybe? Hmm, I don’t remember!”

Michael’s smile faded, concern creeping into his expression. “You don’t remember?”

“Nope!” Adam chirped, stopping mid-spin to gaze up at Michael.

“But I’m not hungry, promise! I’m just... exploring!” His eyes sparkled with childish wonder as they darted around the kitchen.

Joker stepped forward cautiously, a plate of crackers in her hand. “Adam, maybe you could try just a little something?” Her voice was softer now, her walls lowering slightly.

Adam shook his head vigorously, his shawl slipping slightly. “No thank you! Not hungry!”

His tone was cheerful, but there was a nervous edge to his movements.

Michael frowned. “What about water? Have you had any?”

Adam blinked, tilting his head like a curious bird. “Water? Nope! Don’t need it! I have lots of energy! See?”

He darted across the kitchen, his limbs clicking erratically as he bounced from one end to the other.

Joker started to step forward again, but Michael stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. He shook his head silently, his expression one of quiet understanding. Joker hesitated, her lips parting in protest before she relented with a small nod, her gaze dropping to the floor.

“Alright,” Michael said, his voice steady. “But let us know if you need anything, okay?”

Adam nodded enthusiastically, already distracted by the gleaming counters and flickering light fixtures. “Okay, Michael! Bye-bye!”

Before either of them could stop him, Adam clattered out of the kitchen, humming a soft, tuneless melody as he wandered into the hallway.

The hallway was dim, but Adam’s vision blurred and sparkled, the edges of his sight tinged with pink and blue hues. He giggled to himself, his mechanical legs moving erratically as he explored.

His button eyes landed on a series of portraits lining the walls. He gasped, stepping closer. The faces were exquisite, painted with delicate strokes that made them seem almost alive. The colours swirled and shimmered in his drugged haze, each portrait a kaleidoscope of beauty.

“So pretty...” he whispered, reaching out with one of his mechanical arms. But the hand hovered awkwardly, far too large and unwieldy to touch anything without risk of damaging it.

Adam pouted, lowering the arm as his gaze shifted to a cluster of painted handprints further down the wall. Bright reds, blues, and yellows stood out against the pale surface. He placed one of his mechanical hands against the wall, comparing it to the prints.

They were so small, so delicate. His, by contrast, was monstrous—cold, sharp, and grotesque.

“I’m too big,” he murmured, his voice tinged with disappointment.

For a moment, the haze cleared, and sadness flickered in his green button eyes. But then the melody returned to his lips, and he spun away, his humming growing louder as he continued his aimless journey through the strange, endless house.

Adam wandered the corridors of the mansion, his mechanical legs clicking rhythmically against the ornate wooden floor. His vision sparkled, the edges of his sight tinged with candy-coloured hues. Everything felt magical, larger than life. He tilted his head, humming a soft, tuneless melody as he ran a mechanical hand lightly along the walls.

Paintings, vases, mirrors—each thing he passed captured his attention with its strange beauty. But as he turned a corner, his gaze fell on a grand window framing the gardens outside. His button eyes widened, green threads catching the faint light.

“Flowers!” he whispered, almost reverently. “So many flowers!”

He pressed his face close to the glass, his breath fogging it. The gardens sprawled out in a maze of colour, each bed bursting with blooms in pinks, yellows, blues, and reds. The sight tugged at something deep within him—a longing he couldn’t name.

Reaching for the latch and eager to step outside, when a noise from a nearby room pulled Adam’s attention. He turned, curiosity overriding his plans, and shuffled toward the slightly ajar door.

Inside, a figure stood with his back to Adam, the air around him humming faintly with an otherworldly energy. The man turned as Adam entered, revealing a sharp grin filled with rows of emerald-green teeth. His hair fell in messy, ink-black waves, and his piercing eyes seemed to glow faintly.

“Zestial!” Adam cried, his voice bright with excitement. He hurried toward the man, his mechanical limbs clicking erratically.

Zestial’s grin widened as he held out his hands. “Adam, my boy! Come here.”

Adam grabbed Zestial’s hands eagerly, his small, stitched fingers dwarfed by Zestial’s long, clawed ones.

“I’m so happy to see you!” Adam gushed. “You’re here! You’re really here!”

Zestial chuckled, his voice smooth and laced with mischief. “I am indeed. And look at you, all full of energy. How are you feeling? Any pain?”

Shaking his head vigorously, Adam’s green button eyes shining. “Nope! None at all! And it’s all thanks to you! You took it all away!”

Zestial’s grin grew wider, almost predatory. “Good, good. You’ve been taking your pills, haven’t you?”

Adam nodded. “Three in the morning, three in the evening, just like you said!”

Zestial leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Double promise?”

Adam giggled, crossing his heart with a stitched finger. “Cross my heart and hope to die!”

Zestial snorted in amusement, patting Adam’s head. “Careful with those words, little one. Now, tell me—do you like my mansion? Hazbin’s a special place, isn’t it?”

Nodding his head fervently, Adam held tightly to Zestial’s hands as they began to walk down the corridor. The faint glow of pink lights framed their path. “I love it! It’s so big and pretty! But, um...”

He hesitated, glancing up at Zestial. “I’m too big to go up to my room! My legs don’t fit on the stairs. But I found a hidey hole!”

Zestial chuckled, his grip firm yet oddly comforting. “A hidy hole, you say? Well, perhaps I’ll sort out a proper room for you on the ground floor. How does that sound?”

Adam’s face lit up. “Really? Oh, thank you, Zestial! You’re the best!”

Smirking, Zestial steered Adam along the hall. “Now, about the play. Have you picked a part yet?”

Shrugging, Adam’s mechanical legs clicking softly as they moved. “Everyone keeps saying I should be the last child. I don’t know why, but I’m just happy they’re letting me join! I want to do a good job so I can go home!”

Zestial’s grin softened, a shadow of something unreadable passing over his face. “And you will, Adam. Once the performance is done, I’ll make sure you get home to your mother.”

Adam beamed, his excitement bubbling over. “Really? Oh, thank you, Zestial!”

As they walked, Zestial’s tone grew contemplative. “Do you like the others? Lucifer, Lilith, Eve... Michael?”

Adam tilted his head, his voice dropping slightly. “I guess so. Lucifer yelled at me today, though. I think I made him mad...”

Chuckling darkly, Zestial patted Adam’s hand. “Ah, Lucifer. Always the temperamental one. And Lilith... she’s got her own demons to wrestle. But tell me, Adam, are you aware of the fifth member?”

Adam blinked up at him, confusion knitting his button brows. “Fifth member? Who?”

“Steve,” Zestial said, his grin returning. “Though some might say Steve looks an awful lot like Eve—or Joker, as you know her.”

Adam frowned, his mechanical hands twitching slightly. “Joker’s name is Eve, not Steve. Steve’s someone else!”

The grip on Adam’s hand tightened slightly, though Zestial’s tone remained light. “Perhaps. But wouldn’t you like to find out? Call her Steve next time, won’t you?”

Adam pouted, his childish frustration bubbling up. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

Ruffling Adam’s hair, Zestial laughed. “Because it’s more fun this way. You’ll do it, won’t you?”

Adam huffed but nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

 “That’s my boy.”

As they reached the end of the corridor, Zestial paused, gesturing to a set of glass doors that led outside. “Now, Adam, do you want to see the gardens?”

Adam’s face lit up with uncontainable joy. “Yes, yes! I really do!”

With a dramatic flourish, Zestial pushed the doors open. “Then go on. Explore. There are greenhouses, too, if you’d like.”

Gasping, Adam’s mechanical legs clicking erratically as he darted forward into the sprawling garden. The cold air was crisp against his fabric skin, and the colours of the flowers shimmered in his drugged haze like living rainbows.

“Zestial!” he called, turning back to share his excitement. But the doorway was empty.

“Zestial?” Adam called again, his voice quieter this time. He stepped closer, peering back into the mansion, but there was no sign of the man.

The wind rustled softly through the garden, carrying the faint scent of flowers. Adam hugged himself, his mechanical arms folding inwards as a faint, inexplicable unease settled over him.

“Zestial?” he whispered one last time, but the only answer was the rustling of leaves.

he heavy double doors to the garden creaked open, the sound slicing through the mansion's eerie stillness. Adam peeked out, his glowing eyes scanning the snow-blanketed world beyond. His heart raced with a longing that felt almost painful. He wanted to go outside—no, needed to. The flowers, the bare trees, the animals that might brave the cold—he yearned for the solace they promised. The chill in the air pricked his exposed skin, yet something was wrong. The world beyond the threshold was empty. Hollow.

"Zestial said it was fine for me to go outside," Adam whispered to himself, as if reassuring the nagging doubt in his mind.

The spider-like limbs of his prostheses hummed softly, the mechanical joints releasing faint clicks and buzzes as he stepped forward. One clawed hand gripped the doorframe, steadying him, when suddenly a voice, sharp and alarmed, shattered the quiet.

"Adam!"

He flinched violently, stumbling back as his glowing eyes darted around in panic. His movements were clumsy, spinning twice in search of the voice's source. Finally, he spotted Lucifer descending the winding staircase, his face twisted with urgency.

"Lucifer," Adam mumbled, barely audible over the quiet hum of his prosthetics. He hadn’t even noticed those steps when Zestial had led him to the back of the mansion earlier.

 Reaching towards him, Lucifer’s porcelain-like face contorted in a mixture of concern and frustration. His red and gold button eyes, glinting with an otherworldly light, focused intently on Adam.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

Adam pouted, his hand gesturing toward the open doors.

“Going outside,” he replied simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Lucifer’s brows furrowed deeply. His voice rose, the tension unmistakable. “What? Are you out of your mind? You can’t go outside, Adam!”

The reprimand stung, and Adam recoiled slightly. The earlier fight from this morning still lingered in his mind, and the hurt bubbled up in his chest. He squared his shoulders defiantly.

“I want to see the gardens!” he yelled back, his voice tinged with a childlike petulance.

Freezing for a moment, Lucifer’s jaw working soundlessly as if wrestling with words that wouldn’t come. His gaze flickered between the open doors and Adam, then hardened. Without another word, he strode to the threshold, slammed the doors shut with a thunderous echo, and stretched upward to lock them with a swift motion.

“You can’t go outside, Adam,” Lucifer snapped, turning back to face him, his frown deep and unyielding. “It’s snowing. Heavily.”

“Why not?!” Adam countered, his voice trembling with frustration.

Lucifer exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair as though searching for patience. “Adam, I don’t know exactly what your prostheses are made of, but they look mechanical to me. If you go out there in that storm, the cold will freeze them. They’ll ice over, and... and you could die. Don’t you understand how dangerous it is for you to be out there?”

Adam’s defiance faltered. He glanced down at his spindly mechanical limbs, their once gleaming surfaces dulled by time. Shame curled in his stomach as he mumbled, “Yes, yes, you’re right.”

Lucifer’s tense posture softened ever so slightly. A breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding escaped him. He crouched down in front of Adam, his sharp gaze scanning his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, his tone careful, almost gentle.

Blinking, Adam was taken aback by the question. “What do you mean? I’m fine.”

Frowning, Lucifer clicked his tongue softly. “It’s just… you’re different from last night. The way you’re talking, acting—something feels off.”

Adam snorted dismissively. “I’m fine! Completely fine!”

“Alright, fine. You’re okay,” he muttered. Lucifer straightened, his expression sceptical but resigned. “Can’t blame a guy for being concerned.”

Expression darkened, and Adam muttered bitterly, “Like you care anyway.”

Lucifer froze, his button eyes narrowing. “Of course I care. I wouldn’t have stopped you if I didn’t.”

“You yelled at me,” Adam said, his voice cracking. “You hate me. You find me disgusting, like everyone else.”

Lucifer’s mouth fell open, genuine shock flashing across his face. “Adam…”

His voice softened. “I don’t even know you well enough to hate you. And I certainly don’t find you disgusting.”

“Everyone does,” Adam whispered, his voice barely audible now. His mechanical limbs creaked faintly as he drew them closer to his body.

For a long moment, there was silence between them, thick and heavy. Then Lucifer sat down on the cold floor, directly in front of Adam.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier. That was wrong of me.”

Lips quivering, but he didn’t speak. Adam’s stubborn, childlike demeanour began to crumble as Lucifer continued.

“I don’t hate you, Adam. Nor do I find you disgusting. Your prostheses… sure, they’re surprising, but that doesn’t make you any less than anyone else. You’re you, and that’s enough.”

Adam’s eyes, filled with a flicker of hope, met Lucifer’s.

“Really?” he asked, his voice fragile.

Nodding, the tension easing from Lucifer’s features. “Really.”

The snow outside howled against the windows, a haunting melody that seemed to echo Adam’s turmoil. Yet, in the quiet warmth of Lucifer’s gaze, there was an unexpected promise of something Adam hadn’t felt in a long time—acceptance.

Tilting his head thoughtfully, the tension from their earlier exchange dissipating as he observed Adam’s childlike pout. His mechanical limbs twitched faintly, betraying his nervous energy. Lucifer decided to try a softer approach, one that might coax Adam out of his shell without pressuring him.

"Hey," Lucifer began, his tone light. "Why don’t we play a game? Something fun."

Blinking, Adam’s luminous eyes narrowing with suspicion.

“A… game?” he asked hesitantly.

Lucifer grinned, sitting cross-legged on the floor as if to prove he wasn’t going anywhere. “Yeah. Ever played Twenty Questions?”

Adam tilted his head like a curious bird, the unfamiliar name sparking something in him. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s easy,” Lucifer explained. “We take turns asking each other questions—any questions we want—and we have to answer honestly. It’s a way to get to know each other better.”

Brow furrowing, Adam’s mechanical limbs twitching faintly as he considered this.

 “Nobody’s ever played games with me before,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with an odd mix of sadness and wonder.

Lucifer’s chest tightened at the confession, but he smiled warmly. “Well, then, I guess it’s about time someone did. I’ll go first. What’s your favourite colour?”

Perking up at the simple question, Adam’s expression brightening. “Oh! I like yellow. It’s warm, like sunlight. What about you?”

Chuckling, Lucifer was pleased by the enthusiasm. “Hmm… I think I like red. It’s bold, like fire.”

Humming thoughtfully, as though committing this information to memory.

“Red suits you. You’re like fire. You’re warm too,” he said matter-of-factly.

Lucifer’s grin softened. “Your turn.”

Twiddling his fingers, Adam’s excitement bubbling over. “What did you do in your circus? Did you juggle? Did you do flips? Did people clap for you?”

Lucifer laughed at the barrage of questions, his button eyes glinting with fondness. “One at a time, Adam. Yes, I juggled. And yeah, people liked what I could do. They used to call me ‘The Cute Juggler,’ if you can believe that.”

Jaw dropping, Adam’s childlike awe shining through. “Cute? You?!”

He tilted his head dramatically, studying Lucifer as though trying to find the "cute" hidden in him.

“Hey!” Lucifer said with mock offense, playfully poking Adam’s arm. “I was pretty popular back in the day, you know.”

Adam giggled—a sweet, airy sound that made Lucifer’s chest ache in an oddly pleasant way. “What do they call you now?”

Hesitating, a shadow of uncertainty crossing Lucifer’s face. “I… don’t know, honestly. Haven’t thought about it.”

Adam’s face lit up with an idea, his tone brimming with pride as he declared, “Acrobat! You’re like an acrobat now, with all those moves you do.”

Lucifer chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Acrobat, huh? You’ve got a talent for naming things, Adam.”

Puffing out his chest proudly, clearly pleased with the compliment. Adam beamed cutely.

“What did you do in your circus?” Lucifer asked, his tone softer now. “What was your performance like?”

Adam’s smile faltered slightly, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I was with the Cowshuff Circus,” he muttered.

Eyes brightening up, Lucifer nodded thoughtfully. “That’s right. I remember. The ringmaster was Fred, wasn’t it?”

Adam seemed to shrink in on himself, his shoulders hunching. “That’s right… Fred.”

Leaning forward, and lowering his voice to a gentle whisper. Lucifer spoke. “Did Fred… kick you out of the Cowshuff?”

Adam didn’t answer, his gaze fixed firmly on the tiles beneath him. Lucifer hesitated before trying another approach. “The mechanical spider limbs you have now… were they his idea?”

“I don’t like to perform,” Adam blurted suddenly, his voice cracking with emotion.

Lucifer blinked, taken aback. “You… don’t like to perform? Then why—why did you accept the invitation to join the circus?”

Lowering his head, Adam’s expression heartbreakingly similar to a scolded child. He didn’t answer, and Lucifer bit his lip, uncertain how to proceed.

“I just… I figured you loved it,” Lucifer admitted quietly. “The way you’re acting now… I thought the stage was where you wanted to be.”

Adam’s glowing, pink-and-blue-tinged vision flickered as he stared at the floor. Something was off—Lucifer could feel it in the way Adam’s movements seemed sluggish, his responses disconnected. He tilted his head, trying to meet Adam’s eyes.

“You know,” Lucifer began softly, “I saw you perform once.”

Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You… you did? You saw me?”

Grinning widely, a hint of nostalgia in Lucifer’s expression. “Sure did. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember thinking you were amazing. Cute, even.”

Adam recoiled as though the word had physically struck him.

“I was not cute!” he huffed, his voice rising with indignation.

Lucifer laughed, the sound light and teasing. “Oh, you absolutely were.”

Muttering something unintelligible under his breath, Adam’s cheeks puffing out in a childish pout as he stood abruptly. He wandered past Lucifer, heading back toward the mansion.

“Hey, wait!” Lucifer called, scrambling to his feet. He hurried after Adam, his boots echoing against the cold tile. “Don’t just walk away!”

Adam didn’t respond, his mechanical limbs clicking faintly as he moved. Lucifer caught up to him, falling into step beside him. The unease from earlier returned, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Something wasn’t right with Adam, and Lucifer wasn’t about to let him retreat into solitude without finding out what.

The group entered the living room, the crackling of the fire casting a warm, golden glow across the space. Adam gasped, his mechanical limbs twitching as he hurried toward the fireplace, his glowing green button eyes fixated on the dancing flames. He lowered himself beside it, his spindly hands reaching out as though to touch the warmth without risking the frostbitten cold of his mechanical parts.

Michael stood near the fireplace, smiling warmly. “I thought this would make the room a bit cozier.”

Glancing toward the window where the snowstorm outside howled and roared. Michael sighed. “It seems the storm has only grown fiercer.”

Entering the room, Lucifer’s gaze sweeping briefly to Joker, who stood awkwardly by the wall, before landing on Adam. He exchanged a look with Michael—one of silent understanding—before leaning casually against the fireplace’s stone mantle.

Breaking the quiet, Joker cleared her throat and stepped forward hesitantly. “I’ve… I’ve been practicing my act…Would you like to see it?”

Adam perked up immediately, clapping his mechanical hands together with audible enthusiasm.

“Oh yes! I’d love to see it, Joker!” His excitement was contagious, his button eyes practically glowing as they darted between her and the others.

Smirking, Lucifer crossed his arms. “Sure. Let’s show each other what we’ve got and decide what to put on stage for the play.”

Michael clapped a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, his grin wide. “Brilliant idea! It’ll be good to see how we can work together.”

Adam beamed, fishing a crinkled parchment from the folds of his shawl.

“The play!” he exclaimed. “I can’t wait!”

As Joker began to perform, her movements graceful yet tentative, the atmosphere in the room shifted to one of focus and anticipation. Adam and Michael shared a smile, clapping their hands in time with the rhythm of her act. Adam’s expression was alight with joy, his attention locked onto Joker as she twirled and spun.

Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he blurted out, “Oh, Steve! You’re so wonderful!”

The room froze. Joker stopped mid-spin, her hands lowering to her sides as she stared at Adam in shock. Lucifer pushed off the mantle, his button eyes narrowing.

 “Adam?” he said, his voice low but sharp. “What did you just call her?”

Blinking his bright green eyes wide with confusion. Adam clocked his head, his voice was small, uncertain, as his gaze darted between them. “Steve? Oh no, that’s not right, is it?”

Joker took a shaky step back, her expression wavering between surprise and discomfort. She turned slightly, her eyes catching movement near the door.

“L-Lilith?” she stammered. “It’s me… Joker.”

All eyes turned as Lilith, who had been quietly watching from the doorway, froze. Her large button eyes widened in fear as she stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and landing hard on the floor.

She threw up a trembling hand. “No! Stay back! Don’t come any closer, you… you monsters!”

“Lilith!” Michael exclaimed, rushing to her side. He gently helped her up, his voice calm and steady as he asked, “Are you alright? It’s okay, Lilith. Steve isn’t here. Adam just made a mistake. That’s all.”

Lilith’s breathing slowed, her wide eyes darting to Adam before glancing away.

“Y-yes,” she murmured, her voice distant. “Of course. It’s my fault…”

Shrinking back, Adam’s head bowing as guilt weighed him down. “I-I’m sorry, Lilith…It was just a mistake. I didn’t mean to upset you. I won’t do it again.”

Lilith barely looked at him, her hand clutching the edge of her dress tightly.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, though her tone remained detached. She turned to Michael, her voice soft and strained. “I… I’m tired. I missed lunch. Perhaps I’ll eat something in the kitchen and then retire to my room.”

Michael nodded kindly. “Of course, Lilith. You need to take care of yourself. Joker saved some food for you.”

Stepping forward, Joker offered a shy smile. “Yes, that’s right, Lilith. I cooked. There’s a plate waiting for you.”

Lilith managed a faint smile in return. “Thank you, Eve.”

She hesitated. Her gaze flicked back to Adam, her expression softening slightly. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’m just… a bit out of sorts. Let me eat and rest, and we’ll look at the performances later.”

Adam’s face lit up again, his earlier tension dissipating. He clapped his hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Lilith! Thank you, thank you… Oh, um, I mean, Margarethe—”

Lilith shook her head, letting out a faint laugh. “Lilith is fine. I imagine it’s hard to keep track of all the names.”

Adam’s relief was clear as he nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Lilith.”

As the group began to leave the room, Adam’s short but lumpy form lumbered after them, his parchment slipping unnoticed from his shawl to the floor. Lucifer spotted it immediately, scooping it up with a swift motion before Adam could turn back. He glanced at the scrawled writing before slipping it into his pocket. When Adam turned, his head tilted in curiosity, Lucifer offered him a quick smile, one that Adam returned without question.

Lucifer’s fingers brushed the parchment in his pocket as they walked. Whatever Adam was carrying, it wasn’t just a script—it was something more. Something important. Something he needed to understand.

Adam’s mechanical legs clicked softly against the floor as he moved, his steps hesitant yet deliberate. The food he left behind sat untouched, smeared and rearranged to feign an attempt at eating. He couldn’t remember the last time eating felt natural. The spider suit’s unforgiving design made it a chore. Drinking was easier, but even then, his thirst was fleeting, almost non-existent. His button eyes blinked dimly as his vision sharpened, like breaking through a dense fog. Yet, clarity came with a price—pain, dull and creeping, spreading from his lower back into his limbs. The ache was a slow burn, a reminder that evening was drawing near.

And evening meant more pills.

He glanced back toward the others at the table. They were engrossed in conversation, voices rising and falling in a comfortable rhythm. They wouldn’t notice if he left, would they? They might assume he was wandering again—like he often did. Adam paused at the thought, his mechanical body stiffening. Why had he acted so irrationally earlier? His lips pressed into a thin line. It had to be the medication. Zestial hadn’t mentioned side effects, but…what else could explain it? Still, it was worth it. All of it was worth it. The pills dulled the agony that had once consumed him. Painlessness was worth any price.

Without a word, Adam turned from the table and headed toward the double doors. He noted the details as he moved—the pristine white tablecloth draped over the table, the ruby red runner cutting through its centre like a streak of blood. Golden candle holders lined the middle, their polished surfaces gleaming in the flickering light. Around the table were eight chairs with cushions, gilded and plush. One chair had been shifted to accommodate him—a gesture that should have made him feel included but only underscored his difference. Adam hadn’t sat in a proper chair since…since before.

As he pushed through the doors, the sound of his limbs creaking faded into the background. He didn’t notice Lucifer’s eyes following him, a flicker of concern crossing the juggler’s face. Lucifer leaned forward in his seat, his body tilting precariously as he tried to keep Adam in his line of sight. But when Adam disappeared through the doors, Lucifer’s balance gave out, and he tumbled unceremoniously to the floor.

Lilith snorted, barely hiding her amusement. “Still the same old Morningstar. Nothing ever changes.”

“Watch it,” Lucifer grumbled, glaring at her as he scrambled back into his seat. He smoothed his shirt with exaggerated nonchalance, ignoring the grin Michael shot him.

Meanwhile, Adam had reached the solitude of an empty hallway. His trembling mechanical hand fished the small bottle of pills from a hidden pocket, the lid clinking softly as he twisted it open. His fingers shook as he tried to tip the pills into his palm, and the bottle slipped. Time seemed to slow as it hit the floor, bouncing once, twice—then spilling its contents in a scattered mess of yellow.

“No,” Adam whispered, his voice tight with panic.

His button eyes filled with unshed tears as a hot, sharp pain flared up his spine, searing through him like molten fire. He clutched his side, his body shuddering as he lowered himself to the floor. His mechanical legs screeched faintly as they struggled to support him.

“No, no, no…”

One by one, he painstakingly picked up the pills, his trembling hands working against him. Each retrieval was an effort, his flushed face contorting with frustration and pain. He missed a single small pill that rolled beneath a nearby cabinet, unnoticed as he finished gathering the rest into the bottle.

With three pills left in his palm, Adam paused. His throat worked against a lump of pain and apprehension. He knew he needed them—needed the relief they promised. He tipped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry, wincing as they scratched his throat on the way down. His trembling subsided slightly, the promise of temporary reprieve easing his mind.

He sat there for a moment, his breathing uneven. A soft sound broke the silence—a shuffle of footsteps. Adam snapped his head up, button eyes wide and wary. From dining room doors, Lucifer emerged, his expression a mix of curiosity and worry.

“Adam?” Lucifer’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “What’s going on?”

Adam’s hands instinctively curled around the bottle, clutching it protectively.

“N-nothing,” he stammered, his voice a shaky echo of his usual childlike tone. “I just…dropped something.”

Lucifer took a cautious step closer, his button eyes narrowing as he studied Adam's hunched form.

“Do you…need help picking up whatever you dropped?” His voice carried a careful balance of concern and nonchalance, as though he didn’t want to spook Adam further.

Adam stiffened, his mechanical limbs clicking faintly as he turned slightly away, shielding himself from Lucifer’s probing gaze. He quickly shoved the small bottle back into his shawl, the fabric bunching awkwardly around the hidden object. His hands trembled, but he forced a weak smile to his lips.

“No, no. I’ve got it,” he said hastily, his voice high-pitched and almost sing-song.

Lucifer tilted his head, his arms crossing loosely over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.

“You sure? You seem…off,” he pressed, though his tone remained gentle. “You’ve been acting strange all day.”

“I said I’m fine,” Adam snapped suddenly, his voice cracking. He winced at his own tone, his button eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to reset himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, softer this time. “I didn’t mean to… It’s just—I’m fine, Lucifer. Really.”

Lucifer hesitated, watching Adam’s trembling frame with growing unease. He knew Adam wasn’t telling the whole truth, but something about the doll’s fragility stopped him from pushing further. Instead, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Alright,” he said, his voice light but sceptical. “If you say so.”

Adam offered a quick nod and shuffled awkwardly on his mechanical legs, desperate to escape the weight of Lucifer’s concern.

“I’ll just…go rest for a bit,” he murmured, moving toward the hallway with jerky, uneven steps.

Lucifer stayed rooted in place, his eyes following Adam’s retreating figure. He didn’t believe him—not for a second. Adam’s behaviour wasn’t just strange; it was alarming. The tremors in his movements, the shadows that lingered behind his button eyes, and the way he clutched the shawl like a lifeline all painted a picture Lucifer couldn’t ignore.

As Adam disappeared into the dim corridor, Lucifer let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. His instincts screamed at him to intervene, but he knew better than to corner someone who was clearly unravelling.

“He’s hiding something,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers tapping against his arm in thought. “And it’s not just whatever he dropped.”

He straightened, his jaw tightening with determination. If Adam wouldn’t tell him, Lucifer would have to find out another way. For now, though, he would let the doll have his space—just enough rope to either find his footing or hang himself with his secrets.

With one last glance toward the corridor, Lucifer turned and headed back to the dining room, his mind already churning with plans. Whatever Adam was hiding, it was only a matter of time before the truth spilled out.

Adam darted toward the dim recess beneath the grand staircase, his mechanical legs clicking faintly against the worn floorboards. His little hiding spot—a sanctuary amidst the chaos—waited for him. Just as he crouched to slip inside, a cold realization prickled down his spine.

The script. It was gone.

His spindly fingers clawed at his frayed shawl, searching frantically, but the parchment wasn’t there. He must have dropped it somewhere—somewhere out in the sprawling, ominous corridors. Dread unfurled in his chest, a twisting serpent that coiled tighter with every second. The air around him seemed heavier, pressing in as a familiar haze of pink and blue swam across his vision. The pills—always the pills. Their effects crept in, disorienting him further.

“Oh dear… oh no…” Adam’s voice trembled as he whispered the words to himself, barely audible over the thrum of his own panic. “I’ve lost it. I’ve lost the play script.”

His mechanical hands rose to his button-eyed face in a dramatic gesture, the childlike movements betraying the maelstrom of anxiety within. “They’re going to be so mad at me!” His voice quavered, rising to a high-pitched whine.

The spider-like appendages sprouting from his back buzzed to life, their metallic joints clicking and clanking as Adam spun in a wild, frenetic circle. His button eyes darted left and right, scanning the dim corridor as he muttered feverishly, “It’s here. Somewhere. Somewhere around here! It has to be—must be!”

The empty hall offered no answers, only shadows that seemed to ripple and shift in the flickering lamplight.

From beyond the double doors at the end of the corridor, muffled voices seeped through. Familiar, grounding.

“...When the snow lets up, we should head into the woods,” Michael’s voice rumbled, calm and thoughtful. “Maybe we can find some food.”

Adam froze, his frantic movements halting. He hummed softly to himself, a giggle escaping his lips despite his panic. Michael. Admirable Michael. His voice was like a tether, pulling Adam from the brink of his spiraling fear.

“I’ll help chop firewood,” Joker chimed in, her voice gentle, tinged with warmth.

Adam tilted his head, wondering briefly if Eve truly knew how to wield an axe.

“That’s right,” Michael continued, his tone thoughtful. “Remember, back in the day, you, me, and Luci helped Zestial fix his tent? You were the only one who could figure out that blasted saw.”

At the mention of Zestial, Adam’s green button eyes widened. He glanced around the corridor as if expecting the man to appear from the shadows. Of course, no one came. But... they knew Zestial too?

Michael’s voice carried on, steady and measured. “We’ll need tools first. The trees here are thick—ancient. Joker, do you think you still remember how to use a saw?”

Peering through the ajar doors, Adam’s gaze darted to the group within. They sat around a long, weathered table, bathed in the flickering glow of candles. Michael, poised as ever, leaned forward slightly, his arms crossed in contemplation. Joker’s delicate smile lit her face, her hands resting in her lap.

Lilith, regal and otherworldly, sipped tea from a fine china cup, her movements unhurried and graceful. Adam’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, entranced by the eerie stillness of her doll-like features.

And then there was Lucifer. Slouched in his chair, one arm propped on the table, he gazed into the flickering flames with a distant, almost haunted expression.

“What’s wrong, Luci?” Michael asked gently, turning his attention to his silent companion.

Adam’s curiosity burned. He tilted his head, watching as Lucifer slowly stirred. His fingers brushed his face, as though wiping away an unseen weight, before he leaned back once more. Something about him was different tonight. His usual bravado seemed dulled; his movements sluggish. A shadow flickered across his face—an emotion Adam couldn’t quite name.

Adam pushed the door open just slightly, inching closer. He couldn’t stop himself. His fear of discovery was dwarfed by the magnetic pull of their conversation, the need to understand what lay behind those haunted eyes.

Adam burst into the room, his movements erratic and flustered, a picture of desperation. His voice trembled as he spoke, childlike and pleading. “This is just awful! Has anyone seen the playbill? I... I think I’ve lost it! I must have dropped it somewhere around here. Please, please don’t be mad at me!”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Lilith, seated primly in her chair, turned her porcelain face toward him, her lips curving into a crooked frown. Her lavender-scented aura lingered, soothing yet cold.

“Oh, Adam,” she said, her tone light but faintly tinged with pity. “We wouldn’t be mad at you for that.”

Adam gasped sharply, his head whipping toward her, button-green eyes wide with disbelief. “Really?”

Joker, her hands folded delicately on her lap, gave a soft, hesitant nod. “It’s alright, A-Adam. We’ll help you look for it. Right, Lilith?”

Lilith’s gaze lingered on Adam before she offered a faint nod of agreement.

Across the room, Lucifer lounged on a yellow-cushioned chair, his red and yellow button eyes gleaming like mismatched jewels in the dim light. With deliberate slowness, he leaned back, holding up the missing playbill between his fingers. His expression was unreadable, his gaze laced with an almost playful challenge.

Adam froze mid-spin, his mechanical hands clapping nervously against one another. The childlike exuberance that had fuelled his movements faltered, his body seeming more sluggish now. A flicker of relief crossed his face.

 “Oh, thank goodness! You found it!” he exclaimed, rushing toward Lucifer. “Thank you, Luci. Where did you find it? Perhaps we can—oh!”

As Adam reached for the script, Lucifer’s arm darted upward, yanking the parchment away and holding it just out of Adam’s reach. It dangled mockingly, too high for his spindly spider-like prostheses to grasp.

“I just borrowed it,” Lucifer said nonchalantly, tilting his head to meet Adam’s gaze. His voice was soft, but his words carried an edge that felt almost like a dare. “I was going to give it back, Adam. But look at this—it’s... weird.”

Lilith, with an elegant grace, rose from her chair. She glided across the room, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table as she circled it, her movements deliberate and measured. Reaching Lucifer, she plucked the script from his hand, examining it with a furrowed brow.

“What is this?” she murmured, her voice cool and thoughtful. “Another nursery rhyme? I think I’ve heard this before…”

Before she could finish her thought, Lucifer sprang to his feet with a burst of theatrical energy, his sudden movement jarring. His hand snatched the parchment from her grip, and he twirled dramatically, his arms thrown high above his head as though conducting an invisible audience.

“It is a nursery rhyme,” he declared, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mock reverence. “The same kind Steve used to adore.” His lips twisted into a wry smile.

“But this—” he tapped the parchment with a long finger, “—this must be a clue.”

Adam’s confusion deepened, his small frame retreating slightly, his mechanical spider limbs emitting a soft, whirring whine. “A clue?” he echoed, tilting his head. “A clue for what?”

Michael stepped forward then, his presence steady and grounding. He placed a warm, reassuring hand on Adam’s shoulder, sending a fleeting sense of comfort through him. Michael’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, his tone calm but probing.

“What type of clue are we talking about?”

Lucifer swayed slightly, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his angular features, deepening the tension that seemed to thrum in the room like a barely audible hum.

“Who was it,” Lucifer murmured, his voice low and sinister, “that killed everyone and then ran away?”

Lilith’s porcelain face twisted with frustration, her crimson-painted lips curling into a sharp glare.

“What are you talking about, Lucifer?” she hissed, her voice low and crackling with tension. “You’re not going to dredge up that old spiral of madness again, are you?”

Lucifer’s eyes rolled dramatically, the glow of his mismatched button eyes flashing with irritation. He exhaled a breathy, theatrical huff, spreading his hands wide. “Why are you even here, Lilith? What did the organizer promise you this time? Money? A leading role? Don’t tell me you actually think we’re here for a simple performance?”

Lilith let out a deep, weary sigh, her shoulders sagging as though under the weight of his accusations. “Lucifer, you need to let this go—”

He cut her off with a sharp, sardonic laugh that sent a chill rippling through the room. “Take a good, long look around, Lilith.”

His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he gestured toward the room with a flourish. “We were all invited here—every last one of us—to the Hazbin Circus. You don’t find it the least bit suspicious? All the survivors of the Hullabaloo massacre, gathered in one place?”

Lilith’s mouth opened as if to argue, but she hesitated, her jaw snapping shut. Her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides.

“Adam wasn’t part of the Hullabaloo Circus, Lucifer,” she said through gritted teeth, her tone laced with forced calm.

Lucifer groaned, spinning away from her with a frustrated laugh that felt hollow and strained.

“Fine. You’re right. Adam’s the exception. I have no idea why he’s here. But you? Eve? Michael? Me? That is suspicious, don’t you think?”

Michael stepped forward, his hand outstretched as though attempting to calm a tempest.

“Luci,” he said softly, his voice warm yet firm. “You need to sit down and—”

Lucifer slapped Michael’s hand away with a sharp crack that echoed in the tense air.

“No! I need an answer!” His voice rose, filled with a trembling anger that bordered on hysteria. “The name of the one who destroyed our home! The playbill—”

He jabbed a finger at the crumpled script, “—it says the murderer who killed everyone is among those who ‘got away.’ Someone doesn’t want us to know the truth.”

Lilith’s fists tightened until her nails dug into her palms, her voice slicing through the air like a razor. “You’re mad, Lucifer Morningstar. You’ve always been mad.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she turned to leave, but Lucifer darted in front of her, his movements unnervingly quick and fluid.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Not so fast, darling. Today, we all give our accounts of what really happened on that night.”

Lilith’s lips twitched, her expression flickering between rage and something more fragile.

“I’ve already told the investigators everything I know,” she said coldly, the tremor in her voice betraying her.

Lucifer shrugged, his hands lifting in a mocking gesture of surrender. “Ah, yes. The mysterious ‘man in black’ who slipped into the tent? Is it even possible to craft a leakier lie than that?”

Lilith’s sharp gasp filled the room, her hand rising instinctively to her chest. “So, you suspect me, do you?”

Her voice wavered, teetering on the edge of anger and despair. “Everyone knows I was preparing for the performance that night. I couldn’t possibly be the murderer. I have no reason to lie—not to the investigators, and certainly not to you.”

Lucifer’s grin faded, his expression hardening into something colder. “You hated that place, Lilith.”

“And we all did, Lucifer Morningstar!” Her words lashed out like a whip. “Every single one of us, except you!”

He flinched at her words, but Lilith pressed on, her voice rising with venomous intensity. “And no wonder why. Mister Popular! Zestial’s little golden boy!”

She shoved past him with enough force to send him stumbling a step. Without another word, she stormed from the room, her footsteps echoing like gunshots in the silence.

“Lilith!” Joker called, her voice filled with alarm as she rushed after her.

His mechanical limbs twitching as Adam processed the sharp exchange that had just erupted in the room. The tension crackled in the air like an electric storm, heavy and suffocating. His green button eyes flicked nervously between Lucifer, who still clutched the play script with a triumphant yet manic glint in his mismatched gaze, and the door through which Lilith and Joker had disappeared.

“Luci…” Michael’s voice was soft but firm, his towering presence exuding calm. “That was uncalled for. You’re pushing too hard.”

Lucifer turned to him with a sardonic grin, spreading his arms wide in mock innocence. “Uncalled for? Oh, forgive me, Michael. I didn’t realize seeking the truth about who destroyed everything we had was such a faux pas.”

Sighing heavily, Michael placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, offering the trembling doll a reassuring squeeze.

“You’re scaring him,” he said pointedly.

Lucifer’s sharp gaze flickered to Adam. His grin faltered for a moment before he sighed, tossing the script onto the table like a discarded toy.

“I’m not trying to scare anyone,” he muttered, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I just want answers.”

“I…I don’t understand,” Adam murmured, his voice quivering. “What does the playbill have to do with…with what happened at Hullabaloo?”

Lucifer turned to him, crouching slightly to meet Adam’s wide, button-eyed stare.

“Everything, Adam,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s a piece of the puzzle. Don’t you see? We were all brought here for a reason, and it’s not just to put on some whimsical circus performance.”

Hands clutching his shawl tightly, Adam’s confusion deepening. “But why me? I wasn’t part of Hullabaloo. I don’t even know what happened there…”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Lucifer his gaze softening as he studied Adam’s earnest expression. “Why you?”

Michael, sensing the brewing storm, stepped between them. “That’s enough for tonight. We’re all tired, and this snowstorm isn’t helping anyone’s mood. Let’s regroup in the morning.”

“And you?” Lucifer asked, turning towards Michael. “What do you make of all this?”

“What? Did I hate that place too?” Michael repeated.

A laugh escaped Lucifer. “No…no, I mean the play. The script.”

“…” Michael shrugged.

Opening his mouth to argue but stopped himself, Lucifer’s gaze lingering on Adam’s trembling form. With a dramatic sigh, he waved a dismissive hand and turned toward the fire.

“Hey, Adam. I apologise for my rudeness earlier.” He spoke softly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you…”

“I-It’s okay.”

Adam lingered for a moment, his mechanical legs hesitating to move. He glanced at the script lying on the table, the mysterious rhyme still echoing in his mind. He didn’t understand what was happening, but the weight of it pressed down on him like a lead blanket.

As Michael gently guided him out of the room, Lucifer stared into the flickering flames, his mind a whirl of suspicion and fragmented memories. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the past was clawing its way back, and that Adam, innocent as he seemed, was somehow at the centre of it all.

Outside, Lilith stormed down the dimly lit corridor, her breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. Joker struggled to keep up, her small frame hurrying to match Lilith’s determined stride.

“Lilith, wait!” Joker called, her voice breathless and pleading. “He didn’t mean it—he’s just…”

“A madman,” Lilith hissed, her fists curling tightly at her sides as if she could crush the very thought of him in her grasp. Her button eyes glinted in the dim light, hard and unyielding. “He’s always been a madman, dragging us into his twisted delusions, and now he’s doing it again.”

Joker hesitated, her gaze dropping to the floor as if the wooden boards might provide some answer.

“Maybe…” she said, her voice wavering like a delicate thread ready to snap. “Maybe he’s not entirely wrong. About the invitation, I mean. It’s strange that we’re all here, isn’t it?”

Lilith froze mid-step, spinning to face Joker with a glare sharp enough to cut through steel.

“Don’t you start with this nonsense, too,” she snapped, her tone trembling with both frustration and something deeper—fear. “We left Hullabaloo behind. That place is nothing but ash, and good riddance. Digging up its ghosts will only lead to more pain.”

“It’s just…” Joker faltered, biting her bottom lip as if trying to stop her words from escaping. Her button eyes flickered nervously; their vibrant hues dimmed by unease. “I’m worried…”

Lilith’s expression softened at once, the sharp edges of her anger melting away. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and gentle, like approaching a frightened animal.

“What’s wrong, Eve?” she asked, her voice tender now, coaxing.

Joker stiffened at the sound of her real name, her breath hitching in her chest. Lilith reached out, her slim fingers curling around Joker’s hand with a reassuring squeeze.

“Tell me,” Lilith urged, her gaze locking with Joker’s. “What’s wrong?”

Joker raised her head slowly, meeting Lilith’s gaze. Her voice came out in a trembling whisper. “It’s just… the play.”

“The script?” Lilith asked, her string-threaded brow arching in curiosity.

Joker nodded, her hands fidgeting in her lap. “The nursery rhyme. It talks about five children… then four children because…”

“Because one wandered off and got eaten by the Big Bad Wolf,” Lilith finished, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You think it means something?”

Joker swallowed, her grip on Lilith’s hand tightening. “I think it means one of us is meant to die,” she said quietly, her voice laced with an intensity that made the air feel heavier. “And… I’m scared it might be you. Out of you and Lucifer, you’ve always been the ones at the centre of everything. It would make sense, but…”

Her voice cracked, and her button eyes shimmered faintly. “I just… I don’t want it to be you.”

Lilith’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Joker’s voice. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and tightened her grip on Joker’s hand.

“Hey,” she murmured, stepping even closer. “Nothing is going to happen to me, Eve. Nothing bad is going to happen to any of us. I won’t let it.”

Joker hesitated, her lips trembling as though she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the strength. Finally, she gave a small nod, though her doubt lingered in the way she glanced at the floor.

“Tell you what,” Lilith said, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Why don’t you sleep in my room tonight? Just like old times.”

Joker blinked, taken aback. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” Lilith coaxed, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’ll be fun. Like when we were younger. Remember all those sleepovers we had?”

Joker gave her a flat look, her brow raising slightly. “Before Steve, you mean.”

The mention of the name hit Lilith like a sudden gust of wind, her playful expression faltering. She flinched, her gaze dropping away as guilt clouded her features.

“I’m… sorry, Eve,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Really. I didn’t mean to leave you alone. I never wanted to…”

Joker sighed, her button eyes narrowing with regret. “No, no. I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to bring Steve up like that.”

Lilith glanced back up, her eyes shimmering faintly in the low light. She offered a small, hesitant smile. “We’ve both been through a lot. But we’ve got each other now, right?”

Joker hesitated before nodding. “Right.”

As they continued down the dim hallway, their hands still loosely clasped, neither noticed the shadow that had slithered silently from the corner. It lingered in the dark, its unseen eyes burning with a fierce intensity as it watched them. The faintest flicker of movement betrayed its presence before it disappeared, swallowed by the shadows once more.

The dim corridors of the mansion stretched endlessly, the faint glow of flickering lights casting eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Michael walked with measured steps, his warm gaze shifting often to Adam, who shuffled beside him. Adam’s ghostly white skin almost seemed to glow in the dim light, his fragile, bulbous body moving awkwardly under the weight of his limbs. The soft click and scrape of his mechanical appendages echoed faintly, the sharp front blades dragging slightly on the uneven floor.

"Careful now," Michael said gently, his voice as steady and reassuring as the warmth of a hearth on a cold night. He reached out, his hand brushing against Adam’s shoulder to guide him around a splintered edge of a doorframe. “These old halls can be tricky.”

Adam nodded, his button eyes blinking with uncertainty. His spindly back limbs twitched, adjusting his balance with every step.

“I… I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice tremulous, barely louder than the scrape of his own limbs. “I’m slowing you down.”

Michael chuckled softly, the sound light and comforting. “You’re not slowing me down at all. We all need a steady hand sometimes.”

He paused, waiting for Adam to maneuverer past a particularly narrow section of the hall. “Lucifer wasn’t always like this, you know.”

Adam’s movements faltered; his curiosity piqued. He tilted his head, his button eyes glinting in the low light. “He… wasn’t? What was he like?”

Michael smiled wistfully, his gaze momentarily distant as though peering into a brighter time.

“Lucifer,” he began, his voice touched with a tinge of nostalgia, “was the golden boy. The star of the show. And not just because he was eye-catching—though, let’s be honest, he was.”

He chuckled, his tone softening further. “No, it was something more than that. He had this… magnetism about him. An allure you couldn’t quite put into words. He could light up the stage, draw the audience in with just a smile and a wink. He had this way of making everyone feel like they were the most important person in the world, even if just for a moment.”

Adam’s fractured frame leaned forward slightly, his interest palpable. “He sounds… amazing.”

Michael nodded, his expression tinged with both pride and sadness. “He was. And in some ways, he still is. But…”

His voice trailed off, his brows furrowing. “Well, life has a way of wearing people down. Sometimes, what’s left doesn’t look much like what used to be.”

Adam was quiet for a moment, his limbs twitching nervously.

 “I… I think I understand that,” he said softly, his voice almost inaudible. “Maybe too much.”

Michael slowed, turning to face Adam fully. His warm brown eyes studied the younger man, his expression softening further. “I’m sorry if Lucifer frightened you earlier,” he said gently. “He’s… not himself, but he means well. I promise.”

Adam hesitated, his button eyes lowering. “Is… Is he alright?”

Michael let out a soft hum, his hand resting lightly on Adam’s shoulder. “Trauma does frightening things to people, Adam. It twists memories, reshapes the way we see the world—and ourselves.”

Adam sniffled quietly, turning his button eyes away.

“I… I get that,” he murmured. His mechanical limbs creaked slightly as he shifted his weight. “Maybe… more than I should.”

Michael tilted his head, his curiosity flickering to life. He hesitated for a moment, his lips parting as if to ask a question, but then he stopped himself. His gaze flickered to the spider-like contraption enveloping Adam’s body, but he bit down on his tongue, forcing the words back.

Noticing the silence, Adam looked up, his button eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

“Michael?” he asked hesitantly.

Michael blinked, then smiled, ruffling Adam’s wiry hair gently. “Nothing, kiddo. I just remembered—my companion’s waiting for me outside. I should hurry to him.”

He paused, glancing down the dim corridor. “Will you be alright getting to your room from here?”

Adam nodded mutely, though his limbs twitched with a faint tremor. “I… I think so.”

Michael gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Good. Take care, alright?”

He stepped back, his smile lingering as he turned away, disappearing into the shadows of the hall.

Left alone, Adam stood still for a moment, his button eyes reflecting the dim light. The scrape of his limbs echoed as he finally turned toward his room, the soft, distant echoes of Michael’s voice still warm in his mind. But in the deep shadows behind him, something else stirred—a faint rustle, a whisper of movement, watching, waiting.

The mansion’s dim corridors gave way to a hollow silence as Adam crept toward his little hideaway beneath the grand staircase. His limbs, both natural and mechanical, clicked and whirred softly in the quiet, his hulking, fractured form stooping to avoid hitting the low arch. His hidey hole, a cramped nook stuffed with discarded blankets and broken furniture, was all he had managed to claim as his own. It wasn’t much, but it felt safe.

Adam was about to settle in when a peculiar sound broke the silence—a faint, almost imperceptible hum. He froze, his large button-green eyes blinking as he listened intently. The sound came again, distant and ethereal, like the tinkling of glass chimes carried on the wind. It seemed to come from the back of the mansion, toward the door leading to the gardens.

He hesitated, his spindly limbs twitching uncertainly. Lucifer’s furious words echoed in his mind from the first time he had tried to sneak outside.

“Don’t you dare! It’s dangerous out there, Adam! You’ll break yourself—or worse!”

Adam bit his lip, the green buttons of his eyes darting toward the staircase. He should stay. He knew he should stay. Yet something about the sound tugged at him, like an invisible thread drawing him closer. Before he could stop himself, his limbs moved, skittering softly against the floor as he made his way toward the back of the mansion.

The heavy door to the gardens loomed before him, frost curling at the edges of the glass panes. Snow piled high against the doorframe, the faint shimmer of moonlight reflecting off the drifts outside. Adam hesitated, one of his spider-like front appendages tapping nervously at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, his thoughts tangled between fear of upsetting Lucifer and the overwhelming urge to see what lay beyond.

Just as he was about to turn back, his eyes caught movement—a flicker of something outside in the snow. His curiosity sparked like a live wire, and before he could think better of it, he unlatched the door and pushed it open.

The icy air bit at his pale skin as he stepped out into the snow. The storm was quiet at first, snowflakes drifting lazily down to rest on his mechanical limbs. Adam’s button eyes shone with a childlike wonder as he took in the maze of garden gates ahead. Each gate seemed to lead to a hidden world of its own, shrouded in white and mystery. He longed to explore them all, to uncover their secrets.

But as he moved deeper into the snow, the chill began to gnaw at him. His emaciated artificial limbs stiffened, the joints freezing with each step. The spider suit let out faint pings and buzzing sounds, but Adam paid it little mind, too captivated by the allure of the gardens.

Until he couldn’t move.

A jarring creak brought him to a halt. Adam blinked in confusion, his front limbs jerking uselessly as he tried to move forward. The buzzing grew louder, a desperate sound of strain, as his joints locked tight. Panic flickered across his face as he struggled to understand. The freezing snow had begun to bite deeper, seizing his mechanical body in its icy grip.

A worried squeal escaped his lips as he fought against the immobility, his back limbs thrashing. The suit wouldn’t budge. Instead, a new kind of pain crept in, dull at first but growing sharper as his body began to succumb to the cold. Adam shivered violently, his ghostly skin flushing a faint bluish hue. His breath hitched in short gasps, the storm around him suddenly feeling like a living thing, suffocating and relentless.

“Help…” he croaked, his voice barely audible over the rising howl of the wind.

Snowflakes blurred his vision, and he squinted, trying to see through the storm. A dark figure loomed ahead, faint and distant. Relief surged in him.

“P-please…” Adam’s voice cracked as he tried to call out, but the words caught in his throat. The figure grew clearer, but instead of approaching to help, it lunged forward with terrifying speed.

Adam gasped, his body jerking back, but his frozen limbs couldn’t defend him. A sharp blow struck him, sending him sprawling into the snow. The spider suit cracked and splintered under the force, the long legs shattering at the joints. Adam crumpled, his fragile body slumping forward as the snow engulfed him. His vision blurred further as the dark figure walked past him without a second glance, vanishing into the storm.

Time seemed to stretch into an endless haze of cold and pain. Adam’s breathing was shallow, his body trembling uncontrollably. But then, a new presence appeared—a large brown boar, its fur patched and tangled with dry leaves, its button eyes wide with alarm. The creature let out a whine, rushing to Adam’s side and pressing its warm bulk against him.

The boar huddled close, its body shielding Adam from the worst of the storm. The snowstorm raged on, but the boar stayed firm, letting out soft, mournful sounds as it tried to keep the broken boy alive in the unforgiving cold.

The next morning, Lucifer woke with a knot of unease twisting in his stomach. He had expected Lilith to avoid him after their confrontation, but the absence of Adam was far more troubling. Adam hadn't even shown up for breakfast, something that, while not entirely uncommon, now felt ominous.

Lucifer paced the corridors of their shared space, eventually finding himself in the lounge. It was where Adam seemed to spend most of his time, nestled in his peculiar spider-like contraption, with its buzzing servos and faint clanks filling the air like an unsettling metronome. But today, the lounge was eerily silent. Lucifer frowned, the absence of those sounds feeling wrong. Adam never ventured far, and Lucifer couldn’t recall ever seeing him on the upper floors.

He sighed, making his way upstairs. Passing his own room, he stopped in front of the door adjacent to it—the one with Adam’s name etched delicately on a brass plate. Raising his hand, he rapped on the wood, his knuckles echoing softly in the corridor.

“Adam?” he called, voice low, almost hesitant. “It’s me, Lucifer. Uh… I’m coming in, okay?”

No response. Not even the faintest whir of mechanical limbs. Lucifer felt the unease grow heavier in his chest as he twisted the ornate black bat-flower handle and pushed the door open.

The room was small but inviting, its walls painted a warm shade of cream. A double bed was neatly tucked against the far wall, untouched and perfectly made. A simple desk stood beneath a large window, its surface spotless, as if no one had ever sat there to write or think. A modest fireplace directly opposite the door remained unlit, its hearth clean and free of ash. The room was pristine, utterly devoid of life, and cold in a way that wasn’t just temperature.

Lucifer’s eyebrows knit together as he scanned the space.

“No signs of life at all,” he muttered. It was as though Adam had never set foot in this room, let alone lived in it for weeks.

“Lucifer?”

The voice behind him startled him, and he turned sharply to see Michael peeking through the doorway, his expression one of mild confusion. “What are you doing in here? Is Adam with you?”

Lucifer shook his head, stepping aside so Michael could enter. “No, I was looking for him. Come in and—tell me what’s wrong with this picture.”

Michael stepped inside, his button-like eyes flickering around the room. A slight frown tugged at his stitched mouth.

“It’s… too cold,” he said after a moment, his tone soft but heavy with worry. “Too clean. It’s not lived in.”

Nodding grimly, Lucifer crossed his arms. “And Adam… he can’t even get up the staircase, can he?”

Michael’s head tilted, realization dawning. “Oh, no.”

Lucifer groaned, running a hand through his dark hair. “Of course, he can’t. How did I miss that? He’s probably been sleeping somewhere downstairs this whole time.”

“He’s always in the lounge. He must have found somewhere nearby.”

Determined now, they left the untouched room behind and descended the stairs in silence. Their search brought them to the cupboard beneath the staircase, a tiny space that felt more like a grave than a home. As they opened the door, the smell of dampness hit them, and their eyes took in the cramped quarters. Blankets, haphazardly folded, lined the floor, while a few small trinkets and personal items sat forlornly on a makeshift shelf. It was cold. Miserable.

Making a distressed sound, Michael paled. “Why didn’t he tell us he couldn’t go upstairs? We would have found him somewhere better than this.”

Lucifer didn’t answer. His chest ached as his gaze lingered on the sad little nook. He stood abruptly, eyes narrowing.

“Where is he, Michael? He’s not here. I thought he would be, but…”

Michael looked up at him, his worry reflecting back. “I don’t know, Luci. He’s not here.”

Lucifer clenched his fists. A wave of guilt and panic swept over him. The image of Adam, fragile and quiet, burdened with both his mechanical limbs and whatever internal scars he carried, weighed heavily in his mind. Where could he have gone? Why hadn’t they noticed sooner?

“Michael,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper but taut with determination. “We need to find him. Now.”

The mansion felt suffocating as Lucifer and Michael tore through it, calling out Adam’s name in every hall and room. Each shadow, each creak of the old wood, sent their hopes rising only to dash them cruelly. The cold silence of the house pressed against their ears, and with every empty corner, Lucifer’s anxiety grew.

When they finally met in the grand foyer, their expressions were mirrors of each other—haunted and worried.

“Seen anything?” Lucifer asked, his voice tight. His eyes darted toward Michael, searching for any sign of hope.

Swallowing thickly, Michael’s button eyes dim with worry. “No sign of him.”

Lucifer bit his bottom lip, teeth catching the soft fabric nervously. “Where could he have gone?” His voice cracked, his hands twitching at his sides.

Michael reached out and patted his shoulder gently. “We’ll find him, Luci. I promise.”

Before Lucifer could respond, an icy gust swept through the foyer, making both of them shudder. The chill wasn’t just cold—it felt unnatural, piercing. They turned their heads in unison, their eyes widening in horror at the sight of the mansion’s back door hanging ajar. Snow and frost crept in through the frame, painting the stone floor in a slick, frigid glaze.

“You don’t think…” Michael’s breath hitched audibly.

Lucifer’s face drained of colour, and he staggered forward, his knees threatening to buckle.

“Adam!” he shouted, his voice raw with desperation as he bolted toward the door.

Michael yelped and sprinted after him, struggling to keep pace. “Lucifer, wait!”

The pair burst into the blinding whiteness outside, snow swallowing their legs nearly to their knees. The storm had subsided, leaving a quiet, oppressive stillness in its wake. The entire estate was blanketed in a thick, unbroken layer of snow, turning the gardens into an alien, desolate expanse.

“Adam!” Lucifer shouted again, cupping his hands around his mouth as he pushed forward. His voice echoed, but no response came.

A sudden high-pitched whine broke the silence, followed by a jerky movement in the snow ahead.

“My companion!”

He dashed toward the source of the noise, Michael’s feet slipping and sliding in the deep snow. The small boar bounded toward him, its legs struggling against the icy terrain.

“Where were you last night?” Michael murmured, dropping to his knees as the boar nudged him frantically.

The boar let out another whine, bouncing in place and pawing at a patch of snow beside it. Michael tilted his head in confusion, then began brushing the snow away with trembling hands. His button eyes widened as his fingers touched something solid.

“Lucifer! Get over here!” Michael’s voice cracked with urgency.

Lucifer stumbled through the snow to his side, falling to his knees and helping Michael dig. Together, they uncovered the still, fragile form of Adam, his thin limbs curled against the cold. The shattered remains of his mechanical spider frame were half-buried beneath him, twisted and broken beyond recognition.

“I-Is he…” Lucifer’s voice faltered as he stared at Adam’s pale face, his lips faintly blue.

Pressing a finger beneath Adam’s nose and Michael exhaled in relief. “He’s alive. Barely.”

His hands trembled as he brushed snow from Adam’s face. “We need to get him inside. Now.”

Michael turned to his boar, patting its head firmly. “Good job, my friend. You found him and took care of him.”

The boar whined again, its expressive eyes darting between Michael and Adam.

It was a monumental effort to haul Adam’s frail body, along with the wreckage of the spider frame, back to the mansion. The snow clung to their legs and sapped their strength, but neither of them stopped. By the time they collapsed onto the mansion’s stone floor, their breaths were ragged, clouds of vapor puffing in the cold air.

Michael stumbled back, leaning against a nearby wall. “It’s too heavy. How in the world does Adam manage to move in that thing?”

Crouching beside Adam, Lucifer’s sharp eyes scanning the battered mechanical frame. The spider-like limbs were cracked and splintered, as though someone had tried to saw them off.

Adam stirred faintly, a weak murmur escaping his lips. “It… hurts,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Chest tightening, Lucifer inched closer, his fingers brushing Adam’s cold, damp hair from his face. “What hurts, Adam? What happened to you?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

Shaking his head, Michael kneeled beside them. “He’s delirious. We need to get him somewhere warmer. Fast.”

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on the shattered contraption attached to Adam’s fragile body. His lips curled in frustration.

“This thing…” he growled through clenched teeth. “This thing is no help to him anymore.”

“What are you doing?” Michael’s voice was sharp with alarm as Lucifer reached for the shawl draped over the spider frame.

Hands moved deftly, ignoring Michael’s protests. “I’m taking him out of this,” Lucifer snapped. “It’s hurting him.”

Grabbing his wrist, Michael gasped out helplessly.  “Lucifer, stop! We don’t know how it’s connected to him! You could kill him—”

Lucifer froze, his hand hovering above the shawl. He glanced down at Adam’s face, contorted in pain even in unconsciousness.

“He can’t stay in this,” he whispered. “It’s killing him already.”

Hesitating, Michael’s grip slackened. His gaze fell to Adam’s trembling form, his small body visibly struggling against the mechanical frame.

“Fine,” Michael said at last, his voice trembling. “But we need to be careful. If we do this wrong…”

Lucifer nodded grimly. “We’ll be careful.”

His hands moved again; this time slower, more deliberate. “But I’m not letting him suffer like this.”

The room was silent except for the faint clinks and creaks of metal as Lucifer and Michael knelt beside Adam, their breaths tight with focus and worry. Adam lay limp, his ghostly white skin stark against the dark wood floor. The fractures tracing his bulbous body gleamed faintly in the dim light, and his sickly pale green limbs looked even more emaciated than usual, trembling slightly even in unconsciousness. The mechanical spider contraption wrapped around him loomed like a cruel cage, its rusty limbs and bladed appendages adding to the grotesque sight.

Lucifer’s hands hovered over the contraption, unsure where to begin. Michael fidgeted beside him before standing abruptly.

“Wait here—I’ll grab my toolbox.”

He dashed out of the room, returning moments later with a battered red box in hand. He set it down between them, popping it open and pulling out a screwdriver. Handing it to Lucifer, Michael admitted sheepishly, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Lucifer gave a weak, grim smile. “Neither do I.”

He took the screwdriver and rested a hand lightly on Adam’s side, careful not to press too hard. “But we don’t have much choice. Adam’s been suffering because of this blasted thing, and the best thing for him right now is to be free of it.”

Michael nodded, his button eyes wide and anxious. “You’re right. Let’s do this.”

Unscrewing what looked like bolts at the base of the metal frame, Lucifer’s movements slow and precise. Michael watched closely, holding his breath with every turn of the tool. The rusty screws resisted at first, but one by one, they began to come loose.

Just as Lucifer removed one of the larger screws at the back, he gasped sharply, his hand freezing in place.

“What? What’s wrong?” Michael leaned closer, panic flashing in his expression.

“He’s… bleeding. The screws—” Lucifer’s voice wavered. His throat tightened. “They were drilled into him.”

Michael’s button eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. Oh no. Wait! There’s a first aid kit around here—I saw it earlier!”

He scrambled to his feet, rushing to a nearby cabinet and flinging it open. Grabbing the kit, he hurried back and dropped to his knees beside Lucifer. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the latches.

Lucifer, his own hands shaking, carefully parted the fabric of Adam’s shirt, revealing the puncture wounds beneath. Bright red droplets beaded at each spot where the screws had dug into his fragile frame. Michael opened the kit and handed Lucifer gauze and antiseptic, his voice barely a whisper.

“We have to stop the bleeding.”

Together, they worked in tense silence, their hands shaking as they cleaned and dressed the wounds. Adam stirred faintly, a weak whimper escaping his lips, but he didn’t wake.

“Maybe Lilith would know what to do,” Michael suggested, his voice strained.

Lucifer didn’t respond, his focus locked on the contraption. He couldn’t stop now, not when Adam was so close to freedom. Finally, the last piece of metal pressing against Adam’s body was loose. Lucifer set down the screwdriver and gently circled his arms around Adam’s middle.

Kneeling beside him, Michael’s voice was soft but firm. “Ready?”

Nodding, Lucifer button eyes large and filled with both determination and fear. Slowly, he began to pull Adam back. For a heart-stopping moment, he expected resistance, some hidden tether or mechanism that would stop him. But there was nothing. Adam slid free, limp and small in Lucifer’s arms.

Blinking in disbelief, Lucifer’s breath hitching as he stared down at Adam’s frail body. His legs buckled, and he sank back onto the floor, cradling Adam in his lap. The doll-man was far thinner and smaller than Lucifer had realized. His limbs, truncated and malformed, were even more fragile than they appeared within the spider frame.

“He has phocomelia,” Michael mumbled, his voice filled with quiet realization.

Lucifer barely heard him. He drew Adam closer, his thumb brushing tenderly over Adam’s forehead before pressing a soft kiss there. His breath shuddered, and his voice was barely audible as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Adam.”

Michael placed a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, his tone gentle but firm. “We need to get him upstairs. Clean his wounds properly. Put him to bed so he can rest.”

Wordlessly, Lucifer nodded. His movements slow and deliberate as he rose to his feet, Adam held securely in his arms. His legs wobbled, but he steadied himself, his grip on Adam unwavering. He held Adam bridal style, Adam’s head resting on his shoulder. He spared the frozen contraption one last burning look before Lucifer turned his back to it.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Let’s take him upstairs...”

Lilith and Eve were nestled together in Lilith's bed, their limbs tangled beneath the heavy quilts. The two had stayed up late, whispering and laughing like children sharing secrets. Lilith was the first to wake, her button eyes softening as she watched Eve sleep, a small, peaceful smile on her lips. She reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from Eve’s face when a sudden shout pierced the quiet.

"Joker! Lilith! Where are you guys?!" Lucifer’s voice echoed through the hallways, frantic and sharp.

Eve stirred, whining softly as she blinked up at Lilith through half-lidded eyes.

 “What’s going on?” she mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Lilith replied, her voice low but uneasy.

They slipped out of bed and padded into the hallway, the cold of the floor biting at their feet as they followed the sound of muffled voices. The unease in Lilith’s chest deepened when they entered Adam’s room. Her button eyes landed on the bed, and she gasped.

“Is that… Adam?” she whispered.

Standing at the bedside, Lucifer careful tucking another blanket around Adam’s fragile body. Michael hovered nearby, slipping a hot water bottle under the layers of quilts. Lucifer’s expression was grim as he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

Eve swallowed hard. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Lilith stepped forward hesitantly, her hand rising instinctively to touch Adam’s bandaged shoulder. Before she could, Lucifer’s hand shot out, slapping hers away. She flinched, her button eyes widening as she stared at him in shock.

“I just…” Lucifer stammered, his face flushing. “I just don’t want him to be hurt more than he already is. Sorry.”

Lilith nodded mutely, stepping back. Her button eyes flickered around the room, landing on Adam’s familiar shawl draped over the desk. Something about its presence unsettled her. She moved towards it, her hands trembling as she picked it up. It was icy cold, sending a chill up her arms.

“We don’t know what happened,” Michael explained, his voice quiet but strained. “My companion found him out in the middle of the gardens like this. If they hadn’t kept him warm…”

His voice broke off. “He might have died from hypothermia.”

Lilith tightened her grip on the shawl, her throat tightening. “What was he doing outside? That’s dangerous!”

Head snapping toward her, Lucifer’s glare sharp. “We don’t know. I told him not to go out there. I warned him the snow would damage… that contraption.”

Eve’s voice was barely audible as she murmured, “You took him out of it?”

“Yes,” Lucifer huffed, his expression hardening. “It was useless to him now. Only causing him more pain.”

Michael straightened after adding yet another blanket to the pile. His voice was grave. “His prosthetics… they looked like someone tried to saw them off.”

The words sent a gasp from Eve, her button eyes widening in horror. Lilith barely heard them, her focus drawn to the weight of something in the shawl’s pocket. Sliding a hand inside, her fingers brushed cold glass. She fished out a small bottle, and as she did, a yellow piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

Her gaze flicked between the bottle and the paper. The moment her button eyes landed on the label, she let out a sharp, startled sound.

Lucifer turned to her, his brows knitting together. “What is it?”

Holding the bottle aloft, Lilith’s voice trembling. “These…”

Michael stepped closer, taking the bottle from her hands. He examined it, his face growing grim. “Pain medication?”

“No.” Lilith shook her head violently. “These are strong. They can cause hallucinations, alter moods… they’re banned for a reason.”

Lucifer was at her side in an instant, snatching the bottle and popping the lid off. His jaw tightened as he stared at the small pills inside.

“Who would give these to Adam?” he growled, his voice thick with anger.

Lilith crouched down to retrieve the yellow paper, her hands shaking as she unfolded it. Her face went pale as she read its contents.

Michael noticed her sudden stillness. “Lilith? What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she held the paper out. Lucifer took it, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. His button eyes grew so wide they seemed ready to pop off his face.

“This is…” His voice trailed off, a rare tremor lacing his usually confident tone. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he finished, “...This is impossible.”

“…Zestial’s alive?”

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Bonfire~

hello everyone! happy birthday @inubaki! i wanted to get this part up for you! i hope you like it!

for everyone else, i am sorry! please do not hate bonfire too much!

Part 01 - Part 02 - Part 03 - Part 04

@adamsappleweek

The bonfire crackled and popped behind him, a symphony of embers whispering into the night, mocking his retreat. Adam dragged himself further across the field, his legs trembling as though each step weighed a hundred pounds. His vision blurred, tears spilling freely from his red-rimmed, stinging eyes. His nose was stuffed, and his breaths came in shuddering gasps, as though the air itself had turned against him. Chills coursed down his twitching skin despite the lingering warmth of the firelight that seemed to cling to his back, a cruel reminder of what he was leaving behind.

His head felt bare, disconcertingly light without the familiar weight of his flower crown. The vibrant blend of carnations and apple blossoms, his pride and solace, now lay discarded somewhere behind him. It was the second time tonight he had thrown it aside, an act considered a grave insult to the gods. He had almost turned back to retrieve it, but his feet had refused to comply. Or perhaps his heart had refused. He couldn’t go back—not after this. Not after another rejection. Not after his chest had been cracked open and his soul laid bare for nothing.

He stumbled, his gait unsteady, nearly toppling over the gnarled roots that jutted from the field like skeletal fingers. The thin line of trees surrounding the bonfire stretched before him like a frail barrier, separating him from the rest of the world. Beyond those trees, the woods thickened into an impenetrable mass to the east and west, while the south gave way to the notorious lake.

The lake was a siren, beautiful but deadly. It shimmered deceptively under the moonlight, the surface calm, but beneath its serene facade lay a current strong enough to drag even the fiercest alpha under. The sharp rocks that lined its heart were merciless; many had met their end there. Alphas, betas, omegas—it didn’t discriminate. Countless lives had been claimed by its icy grip, their stories whispered through warnings etched onto signs and spoken in hushed tones around the village. And yet, Adam didn’t care. He pressed on blindly, his vision clouded further with each tear that spilled over.

His chest ached—a hollow, burning throb unlike anything he had ever endured. After Eve, he had thought himself impervious to heartbreak. He had vowed never to let anyone wield such power over him again. But here he was, shattered and gasping for air over someone he barely knew. Steve. A name that now tasted bitter on his tongue, one that clung to his mind like a burr, refusing to let go.

Why did it hurt so much? Why did the rejection of a stranger—a fleeting connection, barely an hour old—cut him so deeply? The pain surged through him, raw and relentless, twisting in his chest like a knife. His legs buckled, and he sank to his knees, the damp earth soaking into his trousers.

The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the distant laughter of those still gathered by the bonfire. Their voices felt like a lifetime away, and yet their joy was a dagger to Adam’s heart. He was alone in his anguish, lost in a sea of despair. His trembling fingers dug into the soil as he fought for a breath that didn’t ache, a thought that didn’t spiral.

But none came. Only the relentless pull of the lake, its waters beckoning him with promises of release, of quiet, of nothingness.

The sky was a tapestry of soft pink and orange, streaked with the last whispers of daylight as night crept closer. Adam stumbled to the edge of the lake, its waters glimmering faintly under the shifting hues above. The breeze off the surface was cool, brushing against his fevered skin, a cruel contrast to the fire raging in his chest. He stood there for a moment, his arms hanging limply by his sides, his head bowed as though the weight of the world had finally forced him to his knees.

“What’s wrong with me?” he whispered, the words trembling as they left his lips.

His voice cracked, and the silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the lapping of the water against the rocks. Adam clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the ache that consumed him. It spread from his chest, heavy and suffocating, until it felt as though it would swallow him whole.

“Why doesn’t anyone want me?” His voice grew louder, trembling with raw anguish. “Why does everyone always—always push me aside? What did I ever do? Is it me? Is it something I said, something I am?”

The memories clawed their way to the surface, unbidden and merciless. Lilith, his first crush, her kind smile that had always been for someone else. She had stayed his friend, sure, but her polite words and careful kindness had always been laced with pity. She never saw him, not really. And Lute—he had thought they were perfect for each other. They had laughed at the same jokes, shared the same dreams. But the moment someone better came along, someone brighter, stronger, more, she had cut him off without a second thought. Not even a farewell, just the cold silence of messages left unanswered.

“At least Lilith cared enough to pretend,” Adam spat bitterly. “Lute didn’t even give me that much.”

And then there was Eve. Eve, who had been the closest he’d ever come to happiness. Eve, who had made him feel seen, wanted, cherished—until the moment she didn’t. Eve, who hadn’t just left him; she had betrayed him in the cruellest way imaginable. She hadn’t shattered his heart with regretful words or hollow excuses. No, Eve had ripped it apart when he found her wrapped around his best friend, their laughter and whispers a blade between his ribs.

And then there was Eve. Eve, who had been the closest he’d ever come to happiness. Eve, who had made him feel seen, wanted, cherished—until the moment she didn’t. Eve, who hadn’t just left him; she had betrayed him in the cruellest way imaginable. She hadn’t shattered his heart with regretful words or hollow excuses. No, Eve had ripped it apart when he found her wrapped around his best friend, their laughter and whispers a blade between his ribs.

His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the jagged shore. The sharp rocks dug into his palms as he caught himself, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony coursing through him. Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, blurring his vision until all he could see was the shimmering lake before him, the ghost of Eve’s betrayal reflected in its mocking calm.

He let the pain pour out of him, his sobs shaking his entire body. His words became incoherent, a string of broken pleas and desperate questions hurled at the indifferent sky.

Why? Why him? Why is it always fucking Lucifer?  

The betrayal cut deeper because he had trusted them both. Eve, who had once been his light, his sanctuary. And Lucifer—the one person who was supposed to have his back. Together, they had destroyed him.

And then there was Steve. Steve, who had barely known him for an hour, who had smiled at him like he mattered, only to turn away just as quickly. It was almost laughable how easily hope had sparked and then died, like a flame snuffed out by a cruel wind. How foolish he was to think, even for a moment, that this time might be different. That he might be different.

“Why does no one stay?” Adam whispered, his voice trembling, shattered. “Why do I keep thinking… thinking someone will love me when it’s always the same? I’m never enough. Never.”

The lake shimmered before him, a mirror reflecting the colours of the dying light. The sky was ablaze with orange and purple, the first stars daring to peek through the veil of twilight. The beauty of it all mocked him, a cruel reminder that the world kept turning, uncaring of his pain. He stared at the water, his chest heaving, his breath hitching as fresh tears carved paths down his cheeks.

He was tired—soul-tired. The weight of rejection, of betrayal, of heartbreak, pressed down on him, threatening to drown him before the lake even had a chance. Every path seemed to lead him back here, to this hollow ache that consumed him.

Maybe the lake held the answer. Maybe it’s cool, silent depths could finally quiet the chaos in his head. The whispers of unworthiness, the relentless echo of betrayal, the crushing loneliness—they could all be silenced here. He stood slowly, his legs trembling beneath him as he stepped forward, the water licking at his shoes.

He looked up one last time, the fiery hues of the sky fading into deep purples and blues. It was beautiful, he thought distantly. A cruel kind of beauty, but beauty, nonetheless. He took a deep, shuddering breath and let out a scream—a guttural, anguished cry that tore through the stillness. It echoed through the woods, into the emptiness of the night, a primal release of everything he had been holding inside for too long. His pain, his anger, his heartbreak—it all poured out in that one desperate cry.

When the echoes faded, Adam sank back to his knees, the cold-water pooling around him. His scream had left him hollow, like a storm that had passed but left destruction in its wake. Yet the pain remained, gnawing and relentless, a reminder that he was still here. Still breathing. Still fighting a life that seemed intent on breaking him.

Adam closed his eyes as the cold water lapped around his knees. The chill seeped into his skin, a stark contrast to the burning ache inside him. It was soothing in a way, numbing the relentless pain that had consumed him for so long. He let his body relax, surrendering to the icy embrace of the lake. The current was patient, gentle at first, but he knew it would find him soon enough. It always did.

It was only a matter of time. He wanted his emotions to be drained away into the lake.

Without emotions, without feelings, he wouldn’t have to fight anymore—to be seen, to be chosen, to be enough. He wouldn’t have to keep praying for someone to stay, someone to look past all his flaws and imperfections and decide he was worthy. He wouldn’t have to feel the sharp sting of hope kindling in his chest, only to be extinguished when they left him for someone else. For Lucifer. Always Lucifer.

Why was it always him? Adam’s thoughts spiralled, carried by the water’s pull as his body began to drift. He had fallen for Lilith once, a quiet, yearning crush that he hadn’t dared to voice for fear of ruining their friendship. But it hadn’t mattered; Lilith had only ever had eyes for Lucifer. Adam had accepted it, or so he thought. Then there was Lute. Sweet, funny Lute, who had seemed so much like him—until she wasn’t. Until she had found Lucifer more interesting, more deserving, and cut Adam out of her life like he had never mattered at all.

And Eve. God, Eve. She had been different, or so Adam had let himself believe. She had been kind, attentive, and he had foolishly let himself hope she could love him the way he had loved her. But she had gone behind his back too, slipping into Lucifer’s arms with a practiced ease that made Adam wonder if he had ever truly known her.

Then came Steve, a fleeting chance, a moment of reckless hope. Steve had looked at him, smiled at him like he was worth something. But even that had crumbled when Steve turned to Lucifer, the two of them wrapped in an embrace that left Adam hollow and gasping for air.

Lucifer. The name echoed in Adam’s mind like a curse, a weight he couldn’t escape. Lucifer, who had been his best friend. The person Adam had trusted more than anyone, loved more than anything. Lucifer, who had shared his nest, worn his clothes, eaten at his table, and been part of his family. Adam had given so much of himself to Lucifer, but it was never enough. It had never been enough.

He slipped.

It was an accident.

Adam slipped into the lake. It was an accident, the kind born of distraction and misstep. One moment, he stood at the edge, lost in thought, and the next, the ground gave way beneath him. The icy water rushed up to meet him, cold fingers wrapping around his legs, his waist, his chest, as though the lake itself had been waiting for this moment.

For a second, Adam froze, his breath catching as the chill bit into him. He imagined the water climbing higher, enveloping him entirely, the cold snug around his neck like a quiet invitation. As the current gently coaxed him downward, he let himself believe his body was sinking, weightless, carried not by struggle but by surrender. The thought of drifting, of being pulled away from everything—the pain, the rejection, the betrayal—felt almost peaceful. Far away from Lucifer, far away from it all.

The heaviness in his chest began to lift. For the first time in what felt like years, the suffocating knot of anger and despair unravelled. The ache dulled as he gave in to the water's embrace. The world around him dimmed—the dying sun’s glow, the whispering wind in the trees. It all faded into a distant hum. Adam closed his eyes and waited.

He hadn’t meant for this. Not really. But maybe… maybe this was his place. To let go, to sink into the depths, where the lake could carry him far from the ache of trying to matter, to be loved. Somewhere he wouldn’t have to fight. His breath trembled as he slipped further beneath the surface, his thoughts quieting, the current cradling him like a lullaby.

The cold tightened its grip, and Adam felt himself pulled deeper. His limbs turned heavy, his heartbeat an erratic thrum in his ears. Darkness pressed against his vision, shrinking his world to the rippling glow of the moonlight far above. His lungs burned, screaming for air, but his body refused. He was sinking, surrendering, letting the current decide. Until—

Something yanked at him. Rough, burning hands wrapped around his wrist, piercing the cold. He jolted sluggishly, then violently, as he was pulled upward. The surface shattered around him in a burst of noise and icy spray. Air rushed into his lungs in choking, broken gasps as he was dragged onto the riverbank.

Adam sat, unmoving, his soaked clothes clinging to him, heavy as the silence around him. He stared at the lake’s dark, rippling surface, where the moonlight shimmered, untouched, indifferent. His breath hitched, his lashes dripping water as he blinked. His body trembled from the cold, but inside, a different kind of chill took root.

Oh.

Oh… he hadn’t meant for this.

He hadn’t meant to fall in, hadn’t meant to sink so far. He only wanted to escape for a moment, to lose himself in the water and leave his emotions behind—not to let go of everything. Not like that.

The bank beneath him was jagged and unkind, the stones biting through his drenched clothes. The night air cut into his skin, sharp and relentless. Adam coughed, his chest heaving as water spilled from his lungs, each breath raw and painful. Tears blurred his vision, and he couldn’t tell if they were from the lake or the sharp ache inside him.

Beside him, someone gasped, their breaths uneven and shallow. Adam turned his head sluggishly toward the sound, but his body refused to move, rooted in exhaustion and the weight of what just happened.

"Adam," the voice choked out, hoarse and trembling, "Addie..."

Lucifer collapsed onto his knees beside him, his slender frame trembling from the cold and exertion. His blonde hair was plastered to his pale face, rivulets of water trailing down his sharp features. His soaked clothes clung to his thin, bony frame, making him look even smaller, more fragile than usual.

But Adam didn’t look at him. He didn’t look at anything. His gaze was locked on the water, the dark, rippling surface that had nearly claimed him. The world around him was muted, distant, like he was watching it through frosted glass. He didn’t feel the stones cutting into his skin, didn’t register the frantic movement of the boy beside him. He just sat there, his hands limp in his lap, his body slack and unresponsive.

Lucifer, crouched beside him, coughed violently, his thin frame shuddering with each ragged breath. His golden hair clung to his pale face, drenched and tangled, but he didn’t care. His wide blue eyes were frantic, darting over Adam as if trying to make sure he was still there, still alive.

"Adam," Lucifer croaked, his voice hoarse and trembling. "Addie—Adam, please."

His hands trembled as they reached for Adam, fumbling over the wet fabric of his hoodie. The material was cold and unyielding under his touch, but Lucifer clung to it like it was a lifeline. He tugged weakly at the hood, trying to pull Adam closer, his voice breaking into incoherent hiccups.

"Don’t—don’t you dare do that again," Lucifer choked out, his words fragmented by the sobs clawing up his throat.

Tears blurred his vision as he leaned in, cupping Adam’s face with shaking hands. His palms felt the sharp chill of Adam’s skin, but Adam didn’t flinch, didn’t react. His green eyes remained fixed on the water, empty and hollow, as if his soul had been left behind beneath the surface.

Lucifer’s heart fractured further at the sight.

"Addie, please, look at me," he begged, his voice high and desperate. "Please, say something—anything! Just... just let me know you're still here."

But Adam didn’t say a word. His silence was deafening, louder than any scream could ever be.

A broken sob escaped Lucifer as he dropped his forehead against Adam’s shoulder, his body wracked with trembling cries. His arms slid around Adam’s-soaked form, clinging to him as if he could hold him together, as if his embrace alone could anchor him to the world. Lucifer buried his face in the crook of Adam’s neck, his tears mixing with the lake water that still dripped from Adam’s hair.

"This is all my fault," Lucifer whispered, his voice barely audible, muffled against Adam’s cold skin. "I—I never meant for any of this to happen. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to push you away."

His fingers gripped Adam’s hoodie tighter, his knuckles white with the effort.

"I’m sorry," he gasped, his sobs spilling freely now. "I’m so sorry, Addie. I should’ve been better. I should’ve seen—"

His voice cracked, splintering into a cry that tore from his chest. "You’re all I have. You’re everything, and I almost—"

 He couldn’t finish the thought, the words dying in his throat. Lucifer pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Adam’s face, his blue eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears.

"Please," he whispered, his voice raw and pleading. "Please, don’t leave me. I—"

He faltered, his breath hitching. "I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to."

Adam remained motionless, his expression unreadable. The warmth that had always defined him, that radiated through every smile, every laugh, was gone. Lucifer shook his head, his tears falling harder.

"Say something, Addie," he begged again, his voice barely holding together. "Hate me, scream at me, anything—just don’t leave me like this. Please don’t leave me."

The silence stretched, suffocating and cruel. Lucifer’s chest heaved with the weight of his grief, his heart breaking further with every passing second that Adam didn’t respond. Finally, with a trembling breath, Lucifer rested his head against Adam’s shoulder again, his tears soaking into the fabric of his hoodie.

"I’m sorry," he whispered again, his voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the night. "I’m so, so sorry."

For what felt like an eternity, Adam sat like a statue, unyielding and silent. Lucifer clung to him, his sobs gradually fading into quiet, shaky breaths. The lake continued to ripple in the breeze, its surface glittering mockingly under the pale moonlight, while the world around them felt as if it had been carved into a graveyard of frozen moments.

And still, Adam said nothing.

Lucifer clung to Adam like a lifeline, his entire frame trembling with the weight of the words he could no longer keep inside. His fingers dug into Adam’s sodden hoodie, his face buried in the curve of Adam’s shoulder as the tears spilled freely, soaking into the already damp fabric. Each word that escaped him was a jagged edge, scraping raw against his throat.

"I—I didn’t like her, Addie," he stammered, the confession clawing its way out of him in a broken gasp. "Lilith—I never liked her. I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to help you win her over, I didn’t want too. I didn’t want you to be with her, not because I had an interest in her. God, no. I hated her. I hated the way you looked at her, I hated that you thought you weren’t enough, like you needed to change to fit her stupid, shallow expectations. She wasn’t good enough for you, Addie! She wasn’t!"

His fingers tightened their grip, pulling Adam closer as if terrified he might slip away again.

"I—I made her focus on me," he choked, his voice rising in desperation. "Not because you weren’t good enough for her, but because she wasn’t good enough for you. I didn’t want her to take you away from me, Adam. It’s always been us—just us. And I was so scared. So scared that she’d ruin that."

Adam remained still, his head tilted slightly, his face unreadable. His silence only made Lucifer spiral further.

"I was selfish," Lucifer continued, his sobs hitching with every breath. "I thought if I could just make her leave, everything would go back to normal. But it didn’t. You started pulling away from me, Addie. You started... slipping through my fingers, and it killed me. I didn’t want that! I was so relieved when she stopped bothering us, but then—then you kept talking about her. You kept bringing her up, acting like I loved her, like I cared about her, and it wasn’t true! It wasn’t true!"

Lucifer pressed his face harder against Adam’s shoulder, his voice muffled and thick with tears. "I never loved her. I never even liked her. I just wanted to keep you with me. I wanted us to stay the way we were."

A sharp sob tore through him as he tried to catch his breath, but the words wouldn’t stop. They spilled out in a torrent, unstoppable now.

"And then there was Lute," he gasped, his voice cracking. "You told me about her, and it was like—I don’t know, Addie, it felt like she was threatening to take you away too. Another alpha, another someone trying to come between us. I—I couldn’t let that happen."

His grip faltered for a moment, his fingers trembling against Adam’s hoodie.

"I did the same thing with her," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I made her look at me. She wanted an omega to protect and take care of, so I became that. I played the part just to make her go away. And it worked, didn’t it? She left. She cut you off. She wasn’t good enough for you, Addie. She wasn’t. None of them are!"

Lucifer’s sobs grew louder, more frantic, as he clutched Adam tighter, as if he could pour all his anguish into that embrace.

"I’m sorry," he cried, over and over, his voice breaking with every word. "I’m so sorry, Addie. I was scared. I didn’t know what I was doing, and I hurt you, and I’m so—so sorry."

Adam’s silence loomed over him, oppressive and deafening. Lucifer’s chest heaved with the effort of trying to explain, to justify, to beg for forgiveness all at once.

"And Eve," he rasped, his voice raw. "God, Eve. She was poison, Addie. She kept saying—kept telling me I was born wrong, that I was broken, that I had to be fixed. She didn’t care about you. She didn’t care about us. She just wanted to tear me away from you and ruin everything. I had to get her away from you, Addie. I had to. She wasn’t right for you."

Lucifer pulled back slightly, his tear-streaked face a picture of devastation as he looked at Adam’s blank, dazed expression. His hands moved to cup Adam’s face, trembling as they cradled him gently, almost reverently.

"And Steve—" Lucifer let out a bitter, almost hysterical laugh through his tears. "I didn’t even know Steve. You didn’t even know him! But the way he moved on, the way he made out with someone else the moment you weren’t looking—it proved it, didn’t it? He wasn’t good enough either, Addie. He wasn’t. None of them are. None of them could ever love you like I do."

Lucifer’s voice cracked on the last word, and he swallowed hard, his chest tight with the weight of the final, unspoken truth.

"Because I do, Addie," he whispered, his thumb brushing against Adam’s clammy cheek. "I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids. You’re the only person who’s ever accepted me, who’s ever looked at me like I wasn’t broken, like I wasn’t just an omega to be pitied or fixed. You’re everything to me, Addie. Everything. And I—I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you to someone else."

His tears fell faster now, hot and endless, as he leaned his forehead against Adam’s, his voice breaking with every syllable. "I love you so much, and I’ve hurt you so much, and I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to make you see—I just—I’m so sorry, Addie. I’m so sorry."

Lucifer’s sobs wracked his body as he held Adam’s face, his blue eyes searching desperately for any sign of recognition, any flicker of response. But Adam remained still, his expression blank, his silence a void that threatened to swallow Lucifer whole.

Lucifer’s hands shook as they gripped Adam’s face, his fingers trembling against Adam’s skin as if his touch could somehow pull Adam back to him, make him see the truth. His chest ached, a suffocating, hollow pain that felt like it was ripping him apart from the inside. Every breath he took felt jagged, caught somewhere between regret and desperation, like he was suffocating on the words he’d never said before. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold them in, but now, with Adam so close, the dam had broken.

“I’m twisted, Addie,” Lucifer choked out, his voice hoarse with the weight of everything he had buried for so long. “I—I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the thought of anybody else touching you. Anybody else being with you.”

His breath hitched, his hands tightening their grip on Adam’s shoulders, pulling him even closer as if he could absorb Adam’s warmth into his very being.

He winced, like the admission itself had left a wound. “When somebody else even gets near you, it’s like… it’s like I’m going to throw up. I—I can smell their pheromones, Addie. I can feel them, feel their presence on you, and it’s… it’s unbearable. Like they’re taking something that’s mine. You’ve always been mine. You’ve always been the one who mattered. But I was too afraid to ever tell you. I thought—I thought if you knew just how much I loved you, you’d hate me. That you’d see how twisted I am. How broken I am.”

His eyes searched Adam’s face, desperate for any sign, any hint of a reaction, but Adam’s expression remained unreadable, a blank slate that only made Lucifer feel more hopeless, more out of control.

“I didn’t know what to do, Addie. I didn’t know how to tell you,” Lucifer continued, his voice a mix of agony and shame. "So I... I played games. Every time someone showed interest in you, every time someone threatened to take you away, I—I played games. I was so scared, Addie. I thought if I could just make them go away, make them leave you alone, we could stay together, just the two of us. I thought you’d never see through it, never see how messed up I really am. But I was wrong. I was so, so wrong."

He pulled back slightly, his fingers trembling as he wiped his tears away, only to have them replaced by more, the flood of emotion too much to contain. His voice grew quieter, more fragile, like the very weight of his confession was too much for him to bear.

“You deserve more than this, Adam,” Lucifer whispered. “You deserve someone who doesn’t play these games, who doesn’t treat you like a prize to fight for. But I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t let anyone take you. And so I—Lilith, Lute, Eve, Steve—they were never real to me. None of them mattered. They were just people in the way, people I had to remove, because I love you too much. I couldn’t let them take you from me. I thought I could make you see that, if I just kept playing the part, you’d stay. But I was wrong.”

Lucifer’s breath shuddered as he leaned his forehead against Adam’s, his eyes searching desperately for some kind of understanding, for some glimmer of forgiveness that he didn’t think he deserved.

“I’m so sorry, Addie,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve just been too much of a coward to say it.”

He swallowed hard, feeling his heart crack with each word. “You’re the only one who’s ever been on my mind. The only one I’ve ever cared about. And now… now I’ve ruined it. I’ve ruined everything.”

Lucifer’s fingers slipped down Adam’s arms, his touch trembling, but he didn’t pull away. “I thought… I thought I could protect you from them. From anyone who would take you away from me. But all I did was push you further and further from me. I didn’t know how to stop. I just wanted you to stay, just wanted you to need me the way I need you.”

He let out a broken laugh, his eyes squeezing shut as he felt the weight of his own words. “I’m a coward, Addie. A selfish coward. And I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I need you to know how much I love you. I need you to know the truth, even if it’s too late."

Lucifer’s breath was coming in sharp, uneven gasps now, the emotions swirling inside him too much to bear. “Please… please, say something. Please tell me you don’t hate me. I don’t know what I’ll do if you do.”

 His voice cracked, the rawness of his confession settling deep within him, leaving him exposed and vulnerable in a way he had never allowed himself to be before. But even as the words spilled from him, he was terrified that Adam’s silence, his blank expression, meant that it was all too late.

“I love you, Adam,” Lucifer whispered one last time, his voice fragile. “I’ve always loved you. And I’ll keep loving you, even if you never forgive me. Even if you never look at me the same way again."

Adam’s head spun, each word sinking into him like a weight too heavy to bear. The world around him blurred, the air thick with the oppressive weight of Lucifer’s confession, like it was suffocating him. He couldn’t breathe. His vision swayed, and his stomach churned as the words rattled around in his skull, refusing to make sense. The dizziness spun faster, each thought, each memory twisting with the harsh sting of betrayal, of love, of something he wasn’t sure he could comprehend.

His heart raced, thudding in his chest as he struggled to make sense of what Lucifer had said. It was all too much. Too much too fast. His body felt like it was collapsing under the weight of it all. He felt like he might throw up, the bile rising in his throat as his ears rang with the frantic urgency in Lucifer’s voice.

“Please… please just say something…” The desperation in Lucifer’s tone cut through him, the rawness, the pleading, but Adam couldn’t respond.

Not yet. His mouth was dry, his lips cracked and sore. He didn’t know what to say. The world felt like it was slipping out of focus, and he was slipping with it.

"I..." Adam started; his voice rough, hoarse as it cracked under the weight of his confusion. The words felt like they were choking him, each syllable heavier than the last. The air was thick with tension, every breath seeming to get caught in his throat.

Lucifer’s breath hitched at the sound of Adam’s voice, a flicker of hope crossing his tear-streaked face. He crawled closer, moving desperately, frantically to Adam’s side. He dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as they cupped Adam’s face, leaning in, begging.

"Yes? Yes? What is it, Addie? Please—please, just tell me! I’ll do anything. Anything, just please don’t leave me." His voice cracked, raw with emotion, desperate to cling to whatever shred of connection he could.

Adam’s heart hammered in his chest, but his mind couldn’t follow. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. He wanted to say something. Anything. But his body felt like it was betraying him, and his voice wouldn’t come.

"I’m..." Adam paused, his words choking him, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth.

He tried to lick his lips, but they were too dry, stinging as the movement scraped painfully against his cracked skin. His whole body flinched, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. This was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment everything changed. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, his vision fuzzy and out of focus.

"I’m going home," he finally mumbled, his voice little more than a whisper, but it felt like it echoed in the space between them. It hung in the air like a bitter truth that neither of them was ready to face.

Lucifer’s eyes, swollen and red from crying, widened in shock, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. He blinked rapidly, like trying to dispel the words Adam had just said, as if they were some kind of cruel trick.

"What? No, Addie, please..." His voice broke, desperate, like a man clinging to the last thread of hope. "You’re... you’re leaving? You’re really going?"

His hands scrambled for Adam, reaching out, his fingers grazing the wet fabric of Adam’s hoodie. But it was like he couldn’t hold on. His fingers slipped uselessly down Adam’s arm, helpless, unable to stop him.

The panic hit him then—raw, unfiltered, and fierce. It was an acid-hot flare that shot through his chest, making his heart skip a beat, making his limbs feel numb.

"Addie!" Lucifer cried out, his voice a ragged sob. His hands reached out again, this time grabbing onto Adam’s arm, tugging at him with a desperation that bordered on madness. "Please! Please don’t leave me!"

He scrambled on his knees, his body trembling as he tried to pull Adam back. "I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Addie! Please don’t leave me! Don’t hate me! I love you, I love you so much!"

His voice was breaking, his chest heaving with each painful breath, as if the words themselves were choking him. "Hit me! Push me around! Scream at me, yell at me! Anything, Addie! Just—just don’t leave me again!"

Lucifer’s tears fell freely now, streaking down his face, his sobs wracking his fragile form as he clung to Adam’s arm, his fingers shaking as he begged. The guilt, the self-loathing, the fear of losing Adam—everything crashed down on him at once. And all he could do was beg. Beg for Adam to stay. Beg for another chance. Beg for forgiveness, though he knew deep down that he didn’t deserve it.

"Please… don’t leave me. I’ll do anything... anything you want. Just please—" Lucifer gasped for air, his words stuttering as the overwhelming weight of his own pain consumed him. He pressed his forehead to Adam’s arm, as if trying to ground himself, trying to hold onto whatever piece of Adam was still there, still with him.

 "I’m so sorry, Addie. Please, please don’t leave me…"

The plea hung in the air between them, trembling with the raw ache of a love that had been both a gift and a curse. Lucifer was drowning in his own regret, in his own twisted need, and Adam, standing there, seemed like the only thing keeping him from completely unravelling.

But Adam… Adam wasn’t speaking. He wasn’t even looking at Lucifer anymore. And in that silence, in that hollow emptiness, Lucifer realized he may have already lost him.

Lucifer's fingers slipped down Adam’s arm, cold and trembling. He felt himself losing his grip, but he curled his hands desperately around Adam’s, clinging to him like a lifeline, his fingers shaking as he held on with both of his, trying to keep Adam close. His hands were so cold, his skin almost numb, but the warmth of Adam’s hand was all he needed, all he could focus on. His breathing hitched, a soft whimper escaping his lips as he gazed up at Adam with wide, tear-blurred eyes.

"Please, Adam..." Lucifer begged, his voice cracking, the words tumbling out in a broken plea. "Please, Addie... I’ll do anything you want. I won’t complain. I won’t say a single word against whatever you demand. You can hit me, hurt me, use me. I don’t care. I don’t care what you do to do, I don’t care if you use my body or beat me. Just don’t leave me, please."

His words were desperate, pitiful, his whole body trembling as if it might shatter into a thousand pieces under the weight of his own guilt. He sniffled, his chest tight with emotion as he gazed up at Adam, his eyes frantically trying to meet his green ones.

But Adam didn’t look down at him. Adam’s face remained a distant blur, the cool night air surrounding them thick with silence, broken only by the occasional crack of thunder in the distance. Lucifer’s eyes burned, still searching, his fingers tightening on Adam’s hand, trying to force him to look, to see how badly he needed him, how badly he was crumbling without him.

The sky cracked with a thunderous roar as the last remnants of the sun disappeared behind the mountains. And then, the rain fell.

It came quickly, heavy and unforgiving, soaking them both in an instant. The first drops hit Lucifer’s skin, cold and stinging. He didn’t flinch. Neither of them did. Adam didn’t flinch, even as the rain washed away the dirt and grime, the remnants of their pasts, their history, their brokenness. The only thing that moved was Lucifer’s grip, tightening on Adam’s hand, curling around it like a desperate plea to stop the world from crumbling.

The bonfire flickered out behind them, the flames extinguished by the rain, leaving behind only the distant murmurs of disappointed voices, the sound of people leaving, the sound of them moving on. Nobody walked their way. Nobody came to save them.

"Adam..." Lucifer called again, his voice broken, rasping, barely audible over the storm.

His chest tightened with the weight of everything unsaid, everything that had been built between them. Adam finally blinked, turning his head, his gaze falling on the other omega.

Lucifer was still on his knees, his clothes soaked, the mud clinging to him like a second skin. His eyes, once so bright, now looked dim, dull with the pain of everything he had kept hidden. His red-rimmed eyes were framed by the red carnation and apple crown—still there, still a symbol of their bond, even as everything else unravelled. Lucifer’s breath hitched as he looked up at Adam, trying, so desperately, to meet his gaze.

“A-Addie…” Lucifer breathed, the words a shudder, a sob that caught in his throat. He looked at Adam, his heart thundering in his chest as the rain fell harder, drenching them both.

"Do you hate me, Addie?" The words slipped from his mouth in a soft, fragile whisper, but it felt like they cut through him like a blade. "Do you hate me?"

Adam’s lips parted slightly, and Lucifer’s chest constricted with fear, but Adam didn’t answer. Instead, Adam spoke the words that sent a jolt through Lucifer’s heart.

"I’m going home now."

Lucifer’s world shattered. He didn’t say that he didn’t hate him. He didn’t say anything to assure him. Lucifer’s chest tightened, a sick, burning pain spreading through him like a wildfire, searing his heart.

"Adam, please..." Lucifer sobbed, his voice ragged, his hand still clinging to Adam’s. "Please, don’t leave me… I’m so sorry, Addie... I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was selfish. Please don’t leave me alone."

Adam didn’t respond. He simply shifted, his hand pulling from Lucifer’s grip, the movement sharp and cold. Lucifer’s eyes widened in panic as Adam began to step away, his hand slipping from Lucifer’s grasp. Lucifer struggled to hold on, squirming on his knees, trying to keep his fingers wrapped around Adam’s, his nails digging into Adam’s skin as he tried to anchor himself.

"Please, Adam! Please! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!" Lucifer’s voice cracked with each frantic plea, his breath coming in sobs. "Please don’t leave me again. Please, please, Addie!"

But Adam pulled away, harder this time, his hand slipping free with a final, painful yank. Lucifer’s nails scraped across Adam’s skin, leaving shallow marks as his body trembled with the shock of it. Adam stumbled back, his foot slipping in the mud before he braced himself against a tree, but Lucifer didn’t stop. His eyes followed Adam’s every movement, his heart hammering in his chest.

The rain continued to fall, heavier now, soaking both of them to the bone.

Adam blinked down at Lucifer, his gaze hard, distant, unyielding. Neither spoke, their silence louder than any words could be. The thunder rolled again, louder this time, and the rain turned into sheets of water, pelting them both. Adam took a step back, his voice cold and hard, final.

"I’m going home. You should do the same."

And without another word, Adam turned, walking away from Lucifer, leaving him behind, alone in the rain.

Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat, the cold air stinging his lungs. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His body trembled, his hands shaking as he crawled forward, dragging himself through the mud. He moved inch by inch, desperate, pleading without a voice, hoping, praying that Adam would turn back. But Adam didn’t.

Adam didn’t look back.

Lucifer stopped, his hands shaking in the mud, his body crumpling into the ground as his sobs wracked his body. His chest burned with the weight of everything—his guilt, his love, his fear.

This wasn’t how it was meant to happen. This wasn’t how it was meant to end.

His sobs were broken, gasping, choking on his own tears.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered into the rain, his voice barely audible over the storm. "I’m so sorry, Addie… Please… don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone…"

But the only answer was the rain, the distant sound of footsteps fading away, and the cold, empty space between them that grew larger with each passing second. And Lucifer, broken and lost, sank deeper into the mud, crumbling under the weight of everything he had done, everything he had lost.

“Please come back.”

~#~

The following days felt like a blur to Adam, a fog of sickness and exhaustion that seemed to swallow him whole. Every step he took, every breath he drew, was heavy—each one a burden he couldn’t escape. He felt like he was moving in slow motion, like he was walking through a world where everything was muted, stripped of color, drained of meaning. It was as though the weight of the rain, of the words, of the pain, had followed him inside, seeping into his bones.

Of course, he was sick. He had always been fragile, always too soft, too weak for this world. Omegas were always the ones who couldn’t weather the storms. And the storm that had ravaged him, that had torn through his heart just hours earlier, had left its mark.

The moment Adam stepped inside his small, cramped flat, he collapsed onto his bed without so much as a thought. His body, drenched in cold rain, felt too heavy to move, too numb to care. His eyes were raw from crying, his throat sore, and his heart... His heart was empty, a hollow ache where love used to live. He didn’t bother to strip off his damp clothes or get under the covers; he didn’t care. He just lay there, the weight of everything pressing down on him.

He woke hours later, still fully clothed, lying atop the thick quilt he usually found comfort in. His head pounded with a ferocity that made him wish the world would just stop. The air was thick, suffocating, and he could feel the fever creeping over him. His body felt feverish, his skin flushed and sticky. He tried to push himself up, but everything was too much, too overwhelming. The slightest movement caused his stomach to churn, and he sank back down, the cold sting of the wet clothes against his skin only reminding him of how broken he truly felt.

And so, the next few days passed in a haze. He could barely lift his head from the pillow, too weak to even get up to go to the bathroom. He called in sick to work—his voice barely a whisper when he spoke, cracking under the weight of exhaustion and fever.

The days stretched on, blending into one another, marked only by the incessant ringing in his head, the sickening throb that pulsed behind his eyes. He couldn’t remember when it had started, but the pain felt like it would never end. It was like the rain, the loss, the betrayal, had all settled into his body, turning it against him, twisting his insides into something unrecognizable. He wanted to escape it, to make it stop, but there was no escape. Not from the sickness. Not from himself.

Finally, after what felt like days of lying in a fevered stupor, Adam forced himself to sit up. His body protested, every joint aching, every muscle weak, but he couldn’t lay there any longer. He had to get up, to find some kind of relief. His legs shook as he swung them off the bed, but his knees buckled beneath him, and he had to catch himself against the edge of the nightstand.

The room was spinning.

Adam’s breaths came in ragged gasps as he pushed himself upright, fighting to stay steady on his feet. The thumping in his skull intensified with each step he took, like a drumbeat in his mind. Every footfall echoed in his ears, reverberating through his body like a slow, painful torture. He stumbled, barely managing to catch himself against the bathroom doorframe.

His vision blurred as he reached for the door handle, but it was as if the world was playing tricks on him—spinning, distorting, twisting. He barely registered the bathroom as he stumbled forward, his legs threatening to give out again. He had to sit down, just for a moment, just to catch his breath, just to stop the world from spinning.

With a shaky hand, he lowered himself onto the closed toilet lid, too weak to make it to the bathroom counter. The ringing in his ears was unbearable now, the room swimming around him. He put his head in his hands, trying to steady himself. His heart pounded erratically, too fast, too loud. But the dizziness wouldn't subside.

He forced himself to open his eyes, blinking hard as he reached for the cupboard above the sink. His fingers were numb, trembling as they brushed against the cold bottles of flu medication. The world around him shifted again, everything sliding out of focus. He couldn’t tell if he was standing or sitting or if his body was still somewhere between the two. But eventually, after what felt like an eternity, his fingers found the bottle he needed.

He clutched the pill bottle in his hands, his grip weak, and brought it to his lips, swallowing the pills without a second thought. It didn’t matter that his throat burned, or that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten something. The fever, the pain, the emptiness—it was all too much, and the only thing he could do was force something into his body, hope it helped, hope it numbed the ache that was consuming him.

But even as he swallowed the medication, it felt like nothing would ever help. It felt like there was no escape from the hollow pit inside his chest, the darkness that had taken root ever since he left Lucifer behind.

His whole body trembled as he finally lowered the bottle, the cold sinking deep into his bones. He leaned against the bathroom wall, his eyes heavy, the dizziness so intense it felt like he might fall over. The room seemed to close in on him, and he sank back against the tile, curling up on the floor as the world spun faster, faster, until he could no longer tell where the pain ended, and the exhaustion began.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. He was alone, lost in his own sickness, too weak to fight, too broken to care. The world outside could keep turning, could keep spinning. But Adam couldn’t.

Not anymore.

The next day, Adam woke in his bed, his body still weak but no longer consumed by the fever. The fog in his head had begun to clear, though the thudding ache that had plagued him since the night of the bonfire lingered, a dull reminder of everything he had pushed to the back of his mind. He rubbed his face with a groan, the rough stubble catching against his palm. Shifting beneath the quilts, he sat up slowly, testing his balance, feeling the familiar ache in his muscles from having been bedridden for so long. He wasn’t dizzy anymore. The thundering pulse in his head had softened to a dull throb, like distant thunder that still rumbled but didn’t seem to threaten a storm.

A deep sigh escaped him as he tilted his head toward the bedroom window. His green eyes—once so full of light—were dim now, their spark having dulled. The rain still pattered down, soft but steady, against the glass. The sky was a heavy grey, and the air felt colder, a clear sign that summer had finally given in to autumn.

Ah. Summer was officially over now.

Adam’s mind replayed the memory of the bonfire—the way it had felt like a farewell, a final chapter in something he had never fully understood. The bonfire had always been the closing of summer, the marking of a transition. And yet, it felt more like an end than just a season changing.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and grimaced, the tangling strands only adding to the discomfort. He needed a shower, a clean start, something to wash away the sickly weight of everything that had happened. He needed to do something, anything, to feel like himself again. Go back to work, face the world—just move.

Adam squeezed his eyes shut for five long minutes, hoping to push the thoughts of Lucifer from his mind. But they were persistent. They kept returning, over and over again, until he couldn’t ignore them anymore. So, with a strained sigh, he slipped out of bed, stumbling slightly as his legs wobbled beneath him. He felt weak, exhausted, like he was dragging himself through a haze. He hadn’t been up for more than a few minutes when his knees threatened to buckle. His body felt like it had been drained of life.

He wandered aimlessly through his small flat, the familiar space feeling foreign, as if it wasn’t even his anymore. The routine actions felt automatic—he showered, brushed his teeth, dressed. He didn’t really pay attention to what he was doing, his mind too occupied with the tangled mess inside his chest.

But then, as he turned toward the chest of drawers to grab socks, something caught his eye. He froze.

There, atop the drawers, were the photo frames. His heart seemed to stop. His green eyes locked onto them, the familiar warmth of those images striking him like a cold wave. He felt something tight in his throat as he stepped closer, his fingers trembling. He knew what they were before he even looked.

It was the photographs. The ones he had kept. The ones he had never been able to throw away, even after everything.

Adam’s lips pressed into a thin line as he stood there, gazing at the collection of memories. The first photo was of him and Lucifer—two little boys, beaming at the camera. Adam’s smile was wide, almost too big for his face, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of being so grown-up on their first day of primary school. Lucifer was pressed against him, holding onto Adam’s school sweater with his tiny, trembling fingers. He looked so small, so shy compared to Adam’s excited expression.

Ah, Adam remembered. It was their first day at school. Neither of them had known anything about alphas, omegas, or betas then. It was just Adam and Lucifer. Two best friends, inseparable, happy. Just kids. There was a red carnation pinned to each of their sweaters—signaling that they were unpresented, still unaware of the world beyond their small, perfect little bubble.

He moved to the next photo. It was the same—Lucifer beside him. But this one was taken after Lucifer had presented as an omega. Adam’s heart clenched in his chest as he studied the image. He could see the sadness in Lucifer’s eyes that Adam hadn’t noticed at the time. Back then, he had promised to look after him, to take care of him. Lucifer’s family had turned their backs on him when he presented, but Adam hadn’t known how deep the hurt went. He only knew that Lucifer needed him. And so, Lucifer stayed with them, with Adam’s family, because his own had rejected him.

Adam swallowed hard, his throat tight as he stared at the next photo. This one was of him and Lucifer, holding sparklers on a summer night, fireworks lighting up the sky behind them. The moment was magical, the kind of simple happiness only childhood could offer. But there, in that photo, Adam had never noticed that Lucifer’s eyes weren’t looking at the fireworks. They were looking at him, his face tilted ever so slightly toward Adam, his eyes soft and full of something Adam hadn’t understood until now.

In the next photo, Adam could see the difference. He had presented as an omega, his arms around Lucifer in a tight, protective hug. Adam’s mom was between them, squeezing them both into a warm embrace. Lucifer’s cheeks were blushed, his fingers curled into the bottom of Adam’s oversized hoodie. The moment had been filled with so much joy—love, in its purest form. But looking at it now, Adam saw the way Lucifer’s gaze lingered on him. He was always looking at him. Always.

It hit him harder than he expected—the realization that Lucifer had been holding on to him all along. Every moment, every memory.

But then he picked up the last photo—the one taken before Eve and before Lute. It was of them sitting on a fallen log, wearing their familiar carnation and apple flower crowns. It had been taken at Adam’s grandpa’s birthday. And in that photo, Lucifer was pressed up against Adam’s side, his arms wrapped around Adam’s, his face beaming with happiness, his head leaning against Adam’s.

The image was so full of warmth. So full of love.

Adam let out a breath, his fingers brushing over their faces. He had kept these photos all these years. Even after Eve and Lute, he had never thrown them away. They were all he had left. The only tangible pieces of the bond he and Lucifer had shared.

“Lucifer loves me?” Adam whispered, staring down at the photograph in his hand.

His eyes flickered between the other photos, the truth settling into his bones like a stone. He put the picture back down, his hands shaking as he stood up and pulled a box from beneath the chest of drawers. Inside, there was an album. A collection of photos of them—so many of Lucifer by himself, so many where Lucifer was looking at him, always touching him, always holding on to him, his fingers curled into Adam’s clothing. Always the same—Lucifer was smiling, but it was the way he looked at Adam that spoke louder than anything.

The realization hit him like a slap to the face.

“Holy shit.” Adam whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair. “How didn’t I see it?”

It was so obvious now. How had he missed it? Lucifer had been in love with him for so long, and Adam had been blind to it. Every sign was there in the photographs. All those times he had smiled at them, never noticing the tenderness in Lucifer’s gaze. The way Lucifer had always looked at him. Always reaching out to him. Always seeking contact with him.

Lucifer had been in love with him.

And Adam had never seen it.

Adam sat back heavily on the edge of his bed; the photo album still open in his hands. His fingers trembled as he stared down at the images, the weight of the truth finally crashing down on him. Lucifer had loved him. Had always loved him. How had he not seen it before? How had he been so blind to it?

His mind raced as the pieces began to fall into place, one after another. Suddenly, everything made sense—the way Lucifer always sought out his touch, always needed to be close to him. Adam’s stomach churned as the memories flooded in, sharp and painful, like a thousand cuts.

Lucifer had never used the bed his mama had set up for him when he stayed at Adam’s house. It was because Lucifer liked being with him. It was because Lucifer wanted to be close to him, wanted to be near him every single night. He had always shared Adam’s bed, even though he had a perfectly good one of his own.

The same way Lucifer had never built his own nest, always choosing to settle within Adam’s. They had shared a space for so long, but it had never clicked. Adam had thought it was just how things were between them—comfortable, natural. He had never questioned it. Why would he? It was just them.

But now... now it felt like a slap to the face. Lucifer had never wanted anything of his own. All the things Adam had taken for granted, all the small signs that had been so obvious in hindsight, came crashing down on him. The way Lucifer always wanted to hold his hand, the way he would slide closer during the nights they spent watching movies, the way his arms would wrap around Adam whenever they slept. Always so close. Always seeking the warmth of his touch.

Even when they’d gone to college, when they’d shared a dorm room, Lucifer had never used his own space. Adam’s heart twisted. He had always thought it was because they were best friends. It seemed natural that they would share a room. But Lucifer had his own room. He had his own bed. Yet, he had chosen to sleep in Adam’s. He had never even made an attempt to build a nest of his own.

And then there were the clothes. Adam had always thought it was endearing how Lucifer would borrow his things. His oversized hoodies, his shirts, even his underwear. It had never bothered him, not once. It was just the way they were. But now, it was so obvious. Lucifer hadn’t just borrowed his things because they were comfortable or because he didn’t have his own. No. He’d taken them because he wanted to have something of Adam’s, something that would tie him to Adam. in ways Adam hadn’t understood.

The underwear.

Adam's chest tightened as he recalled how, on more than one occasion, his underwear had gone missing. He’d chalked it up to losing them, forgetting where he had put them. But they would always turn up—clean and freshly folded, as if Lucifer had been taking care of them. It had never occurred to him, not once, that Lucifer had been using them.

Omegas.

Adam’s stomach lurched. Omegas were known for doing that. They would take the clothes, the underwear, of the one they loved, the one they wanted to mate with. They would wear them in secret, to be close to their scent, to feel their presence when their mate wasn’t there. Use them during their intimate moments alone. That’s what Lucifer had been doing all along. Taking Adam’s things, wearing them like a silent confession and using them to bring himself sweet relief.

Of course, Lucifer had been in love with him.

It wasn’t just the clothing. It wasn’t just the subtle touches or the constant closeness. It was everything. It was in the way Lucifer had always smelled—like apples. That sweetness, that warmth that clung to him, the pheromones that Adam had noticed but had never thought twice about. Lucifer always released it whenever they were together, mingling it with Adam’s own pheromones. They were there, every day. The scent that lingered in the air, the one that made Adam’s heartbeat faster, that made him feel at ease when Lucifer was nearby.

All of these were telltale signs of an Omega in love. Signs of an Omega that were presenting themselves to their chosen mate. Signs of an Omega that wanted to spread their legs for that certain person.

Adam felt dizzy, like the world had tilted on its axis. All this time, all these years, and he hadn’t seen it. The way Lucifer had loved him—always, so silently, so quietly. He had been right in front of him, all along. The signs had been there, just waiting for Adam to wake up. But he had been too blind to see.

He clutched the photo album to his chest, the weight of the photographs suddenly unbearable. The truth had settled deep inside him, making him feel like he was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. He had missed every single sign.

Lucifer had loved him for so long.

And Adam had never once realized.

"How... how could I have been so stupid?" he whispered to himself, his voice breaking.

He felt the sting of tears that threatened to spill, but he quickly wiped them away, anger bubbling up inside him. Anger at himself. Anger at everything.

Adam exhaled deeply, a shuddering breath that felt like it carried years of buried frustration and confusion. He set the photograph down with care, his fingertips lingering on the frame as if it held all the answers he so desperately sought. But no answers came. Only silence.

"Does it excuse everything?" Adam murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. The questions churned in his mind like a storm, chaotic and relentless.

Lucifer had gone after Lilith. Not because he liked her, not because he wanted her, but because Adam did. Adam had confessed his crush on Lilith, and Lucifer had turned it into a game—a cruel, heartless game. To break her heart, Adam guessed. Or was it more than that? Was it to ensure that Lilith couldn’t like Adam back? That she wouldn’t be a threat to Lucifer’s unspoken claim on him?

The thought made Adam’s stomach twist. It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

"Why?" he asked the empty room. "Why would you do that?"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to untangle the mess of his thoughts. But the knots only tightened. Lucifer hadn’t stopped with Lilith. No, he’d kept playing, even after Adam had told him about Lute. Lucifer had twisted the game into something else entirely—something darker. He had gone after Lute too, spinning her into the web of manipulation, breaking her heart, just as he’d done with Lilith.

"To keep me for himself," Adam muttered bitterly, the words like ash in his mouth.

That had to be it. Lucifer had wanted Adam to stay unattached, to be his and his alone. But at what cost? At what fucking cost?

Adam’s hands clenched into fists on his thighs as he thought of Eve. His first girlfriend. She had known. She had seen what Adam had been too blind to see. Eve had claimed she could fix Lucifer, that she could help him. Eve was the same as Lucifer. Both were twisted and fucked up.

"Why do all this shit?" Adam asked aloud, his voice trembling with frustration. "Why play with so many people's emotions? Why play these fucked-up games, Luci? Why?"

He stared down at the photograph of them again, his eyes lingering on Lucifer's shy smile, the way his hands were always reaching for Adam in every picture. He traced a finger over Lucifer's face, his touch light and hesitant, as if the photograph could shatter under the weight of his emotions.

"When I told you about Lilith..." Adam began, his voice cracking. "Why didn’t you just tell me then? Why didn’t you say you had feelings for me? Why didn’t you tell me after Lilith? After Eve? After Lute? Why didn’t you just... say something?"

But the photograph, of course, gave no answer.

Adam groaned deeply, dropping his head into his hands again. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to think. The weight of everything—Lucifer’s love, his manipulations, his brokenness—was crushing him. It made him feel sick all over again.

Lucifer’s games had destroyed so much. They had ruined Adam’s self-worth, leaving him to question if he was the problem, if he was the reason no one wanted him. Adam had spiraled so deeply into that despair, into that darkness, that he had walked into the lake, ready to end it all. Ready to drown the pain, the doubt, the hopelessness, in the cold, black water.

Because of Lucifer.

Because of the person Adam had trusted more than anyone else in the world. His best friend. His partner in everything. The one person who was supposed to stand by him, to protect him, to love him without causing harm. And yet... Lucifer’s love had nearly destroyed him.

Adam rubbed his eyes, his fingers digging into his temples as if he could rub away the memories, the pain.

"What am I supposed to do now?" he whispered, his voice breaking under the weight of his anguish.

He tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling. The room was quiet except for the rhythmic patter of rain against the window. It should have been soothing, but it wasn’t. Not now.

Lucifer was toxic. Unguided. Poisonous in ways Adam couldn’t ignore. But Adam knew him. He knew the boy who had clung to him as a child, who had sought comfort and safety in his arms. Lucifer wasn’t just toxic; he was broken, a mess of confusion and desperation.

Adam sighed again, his heart aching in his chest.

"You’re a mess, Luci," he whispered. "And you broke me too."

But the worst part was, even now, after everything, Adam wasn’t sure he could let him go.

…but one thing was for sure.

“I need fucking therapy.”

~#~

Adam didn’t want to return to work. The thought of stepping into the sterile monotony of his office after spending a day buried in the comforting haze of nostalgia filled him with a heavy sense of dread. But he had no choice. Duty called, and reality was relentless.

The previous day had been bittersweet hours lost flipping through yellowing pages of family albums, each photo tugging at a thread in his heart. The images stirred memories of laughter and warmth; a life far removed from the cold void he now felt. It helped, just a little. He felt lighter, though still clouded, like a man who had glimpsed sunlight after weeks of rain but couldn’t quite leave the storm behind.

Standing in his small, dimly lit flat, Adam adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag and meticulously checked his coat pockets. Wallet, keys, phone—it was all there, though his movements were slow, as if his body resisted the inevitability of the day ahead. With a sigh, he stepped out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind him.

As he fumbled with the lock, a voice—small, trembling, and achingly familiar—broke the silence.

“A-Adam?”

His heart froze. The muscles in his shoulders tensed as if his body braced for a blow. Slowly, he turned his head.

Lucifer stood a few feet away, an awkward figure bathed in the pale overhead light of the corridor. He looked... wrong. His golden hair, usually neat and shining, was tangled and matted, clinging to his clammy skin. His eyes, a piercing blue that once sparkled with mischief and charm, now seemed hollow, ringed with dark shadows that told of sleepless nights. He wore a red-and-orange hoodie, the zipper slightly askew, paired with torn jeans. It was a far cry from the polished image Adam had always associated with him—the tailored coats, the crisp shirts, the air of effortless elegance.

Lucifer fidgeted under Adam’s gaze, shifting his weight from foot to foot like a schoolboy caught doing something wrong. His fragile state stirred something deep and instinctive within Adam—a protective urge he thought he’d buried. He wanted to pull Lucifer into the warmth of his flat, wrap him in a blanket, and shield him from the world.

But he couldn’t.

He swallowed hard, forcing those feelings down like bitter medicine. The past was a battlefield littered with betrayal, and he wasn’t ready to wade into it again. Adjusting the strap of his bag, he began to walk toward Lucifer, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

“Adam, I…” Lucifer’s voice cracked, his gaze darting everywhere but at Adam.

Adam didn’t stop. He brushed past him, the cold space between them cutting sharper than a blade. Lucifer let out a strangled noise, his hand shooting out to grab Adam’s arm. But his grip faltered, his fingers sliding off the fabric of Adam’s jacket as if even touch betrayed him.

Adam clenched his jaw, refusing to look back. He felt the weight of Lucifer’s presence behind him, the silence heavy with words neither of them could say.

Lucifer’s head dropped, his blonde hair falling into his face as he stared at his scuffed sneakers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words barely audible.

Guilt churned in Adam’s stomach, sharp and unrelenting. He wanted to turn around, wanted to wrap his arms around Lucifer and tell him it was okay, that he forgave him. But it wasn’t okay. Not yet.

Not after everything.

The memories of their past were a tangled knot of love and resentment. Lucifer had been everything to him once—his best friend, his confidant, the one person he thought he could trust with his whole heart. But that trust had been shattered when he discovered the truth: Lucifer, with his silver tongue and easy smile, had betrayed him in the worst way imaginable. Eve.

For years, Adam had been drowning in those emotions—love and hate, devotion and bitterness—all blending together into a storm that refused to settle. And now, standing in this cold, narrow corridor, those feelings surged back with a vengeance.

He tightened his grip on the strap of his bag and kept walking. His pace quickened, each step feeling heavier than the last. He wasn’t ready to face the past, wasn’t ready to confront the raw, bleeding wound that was Lucifer.

Behind him, Lucifer’s soft voice carried through the air one last time, fragile and desperate.

“Please… don’t leave me again.”

Adam’s heart ached, the words striking a chord he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. He faltered for a moment, his steps slowing, but he didn’t stop.

Not today.

Adam’s walk to Abbey Road Studios was brisk and quiet, the chill of the morning air biting against his cheeks. The streets of London had a subdued hum at this hour, the soft rustle of leaves and occasional distant rumble of a bus breaking the silence. His mind raced, though he kept his head down, focusing on the rhythm of his footsteps instead of the chaos within him.

By the time the iconic red brick facade of Abbey Road Studios loomed into view, a faint pang of nostalgia rippled through him. It was a place steeped in history, its legacy felt in every brick, every shadow. Despite the turmoil of the morning, being here never failed to stir a quiet sense of pride in Adam.

He stopped just before the entrance, pulling out his lanyard from his bag. The ID card, marked with his photograph and the words Associate Creative Producer, swung lightly as he slipped it over his head. Adam wasn’t at the top of the ladder, not by a long shot, but he had carved out a solid place for himself in the hierarchy. His voice carried weight in meetings, his ideas often nudging projects into new and exciting directions. He wasn’t just another cog in the machine—he mattered.

The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss as Adam stepped inside, the warmth of the lobby enveloping him immediately. Behind the sleek reception desk sat a beta woman with dark hair neatly pinned into a bun. She looked up from her computer, her lips curving into a polite smile.

“Morning, Adam,” she said, her tone cheery.

“Morning, Sophie.” Adam returned her smile with a quick, practiced grin, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He tapped his lanyard against the scanner by the counter and continued deeper into the building.

The corridors of Abbey Road Studios were a marvel, an intricate blend of history and modernity. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and coffee, an oddly comforting combination. Lining the walls were golden-framed posters of the bands and artists who had recorded here—icons immortalized in vibrant stills.

To his left, a photo of The Beatles captured their electric energy in the midst of a recording session, their eyes alight with determination. Beneath it, a plaque boasted details of their legendary record deal, signed within these very walls. Further down, another frame displayed a moody black-and-white image of Pink Floyd, the caption below marking the creation of The Dark Side of the Moon.

Each image seemed to whisper stories of triumphs and struggles, the magic that turned melodies into masterpieces. Adam’s eyes drifted over a more recent addition—a shot of a young, wild-eyed indie band holding their platinum record proudly. He had been part of that project, his suggestions helping to refine their raw sound into something that resonated with millions.

He allowed himself a flicker of pride before moving on.

The studios were a maze of recording rooms, editing bays, and conference spaces, the air humming faintly with the distant strains of instruments and voices. Adam passed by a sound engineer bent over a mixing console, their headphones askew as they worked. A group of session musicians laughed over steaming cups of tea near a vending machine, their camaraderie infectious.

He finally reached his destination—a mid-sized conference room tucked behind a frosted glass door. Pushing it open, Adam stepped inside, greeted by the familiar sight of the creative team already gathered around the long, sleek table. The walls here were bare except for an acoustic panel and a digital screen displaying the agenda for today’s meeting:

Project Rewind: Pre-Launch Strategy

“Adam! Just in time,” called James, the head producer, his voice warm but brisk. “We’re diving into the campaign rollout. Got a seat for you here.”

Adam slid into the chair offered, setting his bag down by his feet. As he pulled out his notepad and pen, he felt the eyes of his colleagues on him, some nodding in acknowledgment, others already lost in their tablets and documents.

He took a deep breath, forcing his personal turmoil to the back of his mind. Here, in this room, his thoughts mattered. His opinions shaped music that would someday line these golden-framed walls.

For now, that had to be enough.

The meeting was already in full swing when the door opened again, and someone entered. Adam didn’t notice at first, focused as he was on the agenda displayed on the screen. But then the room shifted—the air itself seemed to grow charged, and Adam’s head snapped up.

There she was.

Lilith.

Time slowed as she stepped into the room, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She was breathtaking, just as he remembered. Her thick, golden hair cascaded down her back in waves, catching the light like spun silk. Her piercing blue eyes, sharp and impossibly clear, swept over the room with practiced confidence, taking in the faces around the table as if she owned the very air they breathed. She was dressed impeccably in a tailored cream blazer and slacks, paired with delicate gold jewelry that glinted against her tan skin.

Adam felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

It had been years since he’d last seen her, and yet the sight of her sent an avalanche of emotions crashing through him—shock, confusion, a hint of anger, and an undeniable, unwelcome spark of admiration.

“Good morning,” Lilith said, her voice smooth and commanding as she strode to the front of the room. “Thank you all for being here. I’m Lilith Faulkner, head of partnerships at Horizon Entertainment.”

Horizon Entertainment. Of course. The name alone carried weight in the industry, their talent roster a who’s who of the most influential artists in the world. This was the partner Abbey Road had been courting for months, the collaboration that could redefine the studio’s place in the modern music landscape. And she—she—was their point of contact.

“Let’s make this a productive meeting,” Lilith continued, setting her leather-bound portfolio on the table and flashing a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I believe we’re all here for the same reason: to create something unforgettable.”

Adam swallowed hard, his throat dry. He barely registered the introductions and opening remarks, barely heard James laying out the studio’s goals for the partnership. His focus kept drifting back to Lilith. She was poised, professional, every inch the powerhouse executive she’d always aspired to be.

And she hadn’t looked at him once.

“Adam,” James said, jolting him out of his thoughts. “You’ve had a lot of input on the campaign strategy for Project Rewind. Why don’t you walk us through the highlights?”

Adam blinked, forcing himself to sit straighter.

“Of course,” he said, his voice steady despite the whirlwind inside him. He leaned forward, pulling up the files on his tablet and launching into a detailed breakdown of the marketing approach. He felt Lilith’s eyes on him now, sharp and assessing, but he didn’t falter.

he discussion carried on with brisk efficiency, both sides exchanging ideas and ironing out details. Adam spoke when needed, keeping his tone measured and his demeanor calm, though his pulse raced every time Lilith addressed him directly. She was polite, her questions thoughtful, her praise sparse but genuine. They were professionals—nothing more, nothing less.

When the meeting finally adjourned, Adam didn’t linger.

The moment he had a chance, he slipped out of the room, his steps quick and purposeful. He didn’t know where he was going, only that he needed to get away. Away from the conference room, away from Lilith, away from the unbearable knot tightening in his chest.

He found himself on the bottom floor of the studio, where the air was cooler and quieter. A private booth in the corner caught his eye, its small table and cushioned bench tucked away from prying eyes. Adam slid inside and collapsed onto the seat, his elbows hitting the table as he buried his head in his arms.

A groan escaped him, muffled by his sleeves.

Everything was a mess.

Seeing Lilith again had reopened wounds he hadn’t realized were still raw. Her presence alone had stirred up memories of a time when things were simpler, when their lives had been intertwined in ways that felt unbreakable. And yet, here they were—strangers in a professional setting, pretending the past didn’t exist.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. He was still reeling from the truth about Lucifer, from the lies and betrayals that had fractured everything he thought he knew. And now Lilith—beautiful, powerful, untouchable Lilith—had reappeared like a ghost from another life.

Adam clenched his fists, his knuckles pressing into the soft leather of the booth. He felt unmoored, as though the ground beneath him had shifted and he was scrambling to find his footing.

For a moment, he allowed himself to stay like that, head down, shoulders hunched, letting the weight of it all press down on him. He needed this—needed to feel the full extent of his frustration and confusion, to let it crash over him before he could even think about facing the world again.

And then, slowly, he exhaled.

Adam sat in the quiet booth, his head still resting on his crossed arms. His thoughts swirled like storm clouds, the weight of everything pressing down on him. The faint hum of the studio equipment in the background was soothing, but it wasn’t enough to untangle the mess inside his head.

A soft sound—a shuffle of footsteps—caught his attention. He didn’t look up, assuming it was someone passing by. But then a voice broke the silence.

“Adam,” Lilith said, her tone soft but tinged with amusement. “I didn’t mean to give you a heart attack.”

Adam’s head shot up, his cheeks flushing slightly as he straightened in his seat.

“Lilith,” he stammered, glancing around as if to gather himself. “It wasn’t you. I mean—well, it was you, but not like that.”

He exhaled sharply, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I was just surprised to see you again after all this time.”

Lilith smiled faintly, her expression gentler than he remembered.

“It was nice to see you again,” she admitted, her blue eyes watching him carefully. “I’m not sure if you feel the same, but... I always saw you as a friend, Adam.”

Adam hesitated, his throat tightening at her honesty. He gave a small, crooked smile. “You were a friend, Lilith. I mean, we were... close, once.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. Her gaze flickered down for a moment before she slid into the booth across from him. “I wanted to say I’m sorry—for how things ended between us back then.”

Adam blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Lilith was quiet for a beat, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the edge of the table. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer now. “It was never my intention to lead you on. I was young and stupid. I didn’t realize how much you liked me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I thought... if I ignored it, it would go away.”

 Her lips curled into a small, self-deprecating smile. “I guess I was right. It did go away. But so did our friendship, and that... that’s on me.”

Adam blinked again, surprised by her candour. He rubbed the back of his neck, offering a crooked smile. “Lilith, it wasn’t your fault. It was just... a little crush. I got over it pretty fast.”

Lilith’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though trying to gauge his sincerity. But then she let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know if I believe that, but thank you for saying it.”

The tension between them eased, their conversation flowing more naturally as they reminisced. They laughed about being lab partners in school, recalling the time they accidentally set a beaker on fire during an experiment.

“Honestly, you were the top student,” Adam said with a grin, leaning back in his seat. “I admired you so much. I wanted to be like you—smart, confident, always knowing exactly what you wanted.”

Lilith laughed, her voice bright and genuine. “And I wanted to be carefree like you. You didn’t care what people thought. You just... existed, completely comfortable in your own skin.”

They both laughed, but the sound petered out as Adam let out a soft sigh, his head lowering slightly.

Lilith tilted her head, her brow furrowing.

“How are things with you and Lucifer?” she asked carefully.

Adam’s face twisted into a grimace before he could stop himself. He glanced to the side, debating how much to say. Could he tell her? Did she already know?

“Is it that bad?” Lilith pressed gently.

Adam hesitated, then met her gaze. “Lilith, if you knew...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

She surprised him by giving a sad chuckle, her eyes distant. “I already know, Adam.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Lilith leaned back against the booth, exhaling deeply. Her confident veneer cracked, revealing something more vulnerable beneath. “I knew from the start that Lucifer wasn’t into me the way I was into him. I could tell.”

Adam stared at her, stunned. “Then why...?”

“Why did I stay?” Lilith gave him a small, rueful smile. “Because I was young and stupid. I thought I could change him, make him like me even a little. But he never did.”

Her voice was steady, but Adam could hear the ache beneath her words. “No matter what I did, he just seemed... distant. Bored. It hurt, but I couldn’t accept failure. It felt like an insult to my alpha nature, you know? To admit defeat. So, I kept trying, kept pushing.”

She paused, her gaze distant, as if looking into the past. “I think I knew it was a lost cause when I brought up the idea of spending his heat together. He looked at me like I’d suggested something disgusting.”

Adam winced, his heart twisting. “Lilith...”

She gave a sad chuckle, her fingers brushing a strand of golden hair from her face. “He was never cruel, never outright mean. He just tolerated me. And back then, that was enough. I wanted him, even if he didn’t want me.”

Lilith leaned back in her seat, her gaze dropping to the table as her fingers ran absently over the edge. Her expression softened, her confident exterior peeling away to reveal a deep vulnerability that Adam hadn’t seen before.

“I really wanted him to be the one,” she said, her voice low, as if the admission itself was painful. “Lucifer, I mean. I convinced myself that if I tried hard enough, if I pushed through the walls he put up, I could get him to see me. To really see me.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her blue eyes glistening. “But looking back, it’s so obvious. He was only ever ‘nice’ to me because of you.”

Adam’s brow furrowed, his heart twisting. “Lilith, I’m sure that’s not true,” he said gently. “Lucifer must have had some feelings for you. He had to.”

Lilith snorted, the sound bitter and filled with disbelief. “Adam, I know it’s not true. Trust me.”

The certainty in her voice sent a flicker of unease through Adam, and his confusion deepened. “Why do you say that?”

She breathed in deeply, her shoulders rising and falling before she leaned forward, her piercing gaze locking onto his. “Because of you, Adam. You and Lucifer… you were always connected at the hip. I could never find one of you without the other. Wherever you went, he followed. It was like you were his North Star.”

Adam blinked, his stomach knotting at the weight of her words. Lilith hesitated, searching his expression as if gauging his readiness to hear what she was about to say. Finally, she spoke softly, her voice almost apologetic.

“Lucifer was in love with you.”

The words hit Adam like a blow, leaving him stunned. He blinked furiously, his eyes widening as if he had misheard her. “What?”

Lilith smiled pitifully, her eyes filled with a strange mixture of understanding and sadness. “He was, Adam. From the moment I met him, it was obvious. He always looked at you. Always cared about you, your feelings, your opinions. And when you started pulling away from us… he blamed me for it. I could see it in the way he looked at me.”

Adam opened his mouth to protest, but Lilith held up a hand to stop him. “

Before you say anything, just listen,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “I saw what happened between the two of you a few years ago. With your ex. I saw how you fought, how angry you were. But Adam, I don’t think that’s the whole story. There has to be more to it.”

Adam’s jaw tightened, his mind instantly recalling Lucifer’s words about Eve “trying to fix him.” The memory made his chest ache, but he forced himself to remain silent as Lilith continued.

“I’m not saying what happened was okay,” she said carefully. “But what I saw… what I witnessed from Lucifer—how much he adored you, how much he loves you—there’s no way he would have done something like that without a reason. I don’t know what kind of person your ex was, but I do know Lucifer. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt you. He loves you, Adam. He still does.”

Adam’s lips twitched, his gaze dropping to the table. His chest felt tight, his emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process everything she was telling him.

Lilith reached forward, her hand resting lightly on his. “Adam…You’ve never seen him the way I have. Every time I see him at the bonfires, he’s always looking for you. And when he finds you? He doesn’t look away. Not once.”

Adam puffed out his cheeks, trying to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “He… he made out with Steve,” he muttered weakly.

Lilith’s expression darkened, her voice sharpening. “Steve? Oh, Adam, please tell me you weren’t seriously considering that—that moron!”

Adam flinched at her raised voice, his cheeks flushing. “I—I mean… well…”

Lilith crossed her arms, her disapproving glare cutting through him like a knife. “Adam, Steve is nothing but a disgusting, vile jerk. He beds omegas at every bonfire with the promise of mating, only to toss them aside the next morning. Please tell me you aren’t in contact with him.”

Adam shook his head hastily, his voice rising in defence. “No, no, of course not! I was just… desperate, Lilith. I just wanted…”

His voice cracked slightly, and he looked down, his shoulders sagging. “I just wanted to be wanted. To be loved and cherished.”

Lilith’s gaze softened, the fire in her eyes dimming. She squeezed his hand gently. “

“Oh, Adam,” she murmured, her voice full of quiet affection. “But you already are.”

Adam looked up at her, startled by the sincerity in her words. For a moment, they simply sat there, the weight of unspoken emotions filling the space between them. Lilith’s touch was steady, grounding him, and in that moment, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Hope.

Adam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, squirming like a cornered animal. His arms crossed over his chest as if bracing himself against Lilith’s steady gaze.

“But…” he began hesitantly, his voice trailing off before he let out a soft sigh. “He is an omega. We’re omegas.”

Lilith blinked, her brow furrowing slightly. “And is that a problem for you, Adam?”

He whined softly, the sound escaping unbidden as he closed his eyes briefly.

“No,” he said, shaking his head with a firmness that didn’t match the uncertainty flickering in his expression. “No, it’s not a problem. Being an omega doesn’t define me.”

Lilith’s lips quirked into a small smile, but she stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I’ve never let it hold me back,” Adam continued, his voice growing more resolute. “Whenever I wanted something, I went for it. Grabbed it by the horns and climbed on board.”

He paused, his eyes dropping to the table. “Except with love, that is.”

Lilith made a face at that, her expression hovering between amusement and exasperation.

Adam quickly waved his hands as if to backtrack. “I mean… I didn’t know Lucifer was in love with me!”

Her laughter was light but teasing. “It was so obvious. How could you not?”

Adam huffed and sank back into the plush cushions, his arms tightening around himself defensively. “I don’t know. It just… wasn’t obvious to me.”

Lilith chuckled again, shaking her head. “You must be what people call dense.”

Adam pouted, his gaze sliding off to the side as he sank deeper into his thoughts. The room grew quiet save for the faint hum of distant studio chatter.

After a long moment, Adam whispered, almost to himself, “Everything was Lucifer’s fault.”

Lilith’s smile faded, her expression becoming patient as she leaned in slightly, waiting for him to elaborate.

Adam bit his bottom lip, his brows drawing together as if wrestling with his words. “He… he went after you because I told him I was developing a crush on you.”

His voice trembled slightly, but he pressed on. “Then he went after Lute because, again, I told him I liked her. And then with Eve…”

Lilith’s eyes flickered, a hint of understanding crossing her face. “It was a game to him.”

Adam gasped softly, his eyes snapping to hers in surprise. “

That’s right,” he said, his voice rising with realization. “He said he turned it into a game.”

Lilith nodded thoughtfully. “To keep people away from you.”

Adam’s shoulders sagged, a deep sigh falling from his lips. “Yes. He—he…”

He hesitated, his hands twisting in his lap. “Eve was different, though. Different from you and Lute. Eve was…”

Lilith interjected gently, her tone delicate and careful. “Eve made it to a place neither I nor Lute ever could. In Lucifer’s eyes, she did something he thought was impossible. She became your girlfriend. That made her a threat.”

Adam grimaced, her words cutting too close to the truth.

“That’s what he said,” he admitted reluctantly. “I mean… he hasn’t told me much outright. Most of it, I’ve had to figure out myself. But…”

“Lucifer must have been scared,” Lilith said softly. “Eve was your girlfriend. She had the potential to take you away from him. So, he did what he thought he had to do to keep you.”

Adam’s expression twisted, a mix of frustration and bitterness.

“I’m not a toy,” he grunted, the words carrying the weight of years of pent-up resentment.

Lilith reached out again, her hand brushing his lightly. “I know. I’m just trying to see it from Lucifer’s perspective. But Adam…”

She hesitated, her voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “If you really want to understand what he was thinking, you’ll have to talk to him.”

Adam frowned, his lips pulling down as his gaze dropped to the table.

“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted, his voice breaking just slightly.

Lilith’s hand tightened over his, her expression full of warmth and encouragement. “Of course, you can. It was just the two of you for so long. You’re the only one who can make sense of this with him, Adam.”

Her words hung between them, heavy with truth, and for a moment, Adam couldn’t meet her eyes. Finally, he let out a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Lilith smiled gently, her hand still resting over his. “Start with the truth, Adam. It’s all you’ve ever needed with him.”

The sky roared as lightning forked across the dark expanse, illuminating the rain that fell in relentless sheets. Adam cursed under his breath, his teeth clenched against the chill seeping through his jacket. He should have grabbed an umbrella—he knew better. It was late summer, and the city’s winters always came early, bringing dreary storms that crept into every corner. His fingers tightened around his shoulder bag, pressing it protectively against his chest as he hurried along the slick pavement.

By the time he reached the building block, his lungs burned, and water dripped from his hair into his eyes. He shoved the door open, panting as the warmth of the lounge greeted him. He barely had time to savor the reprieve before he froze, his breath catching painfully in his throat.

Lucifer.

Adam blinked, sure for a moment that the storm or his exhaustion had conjured a phantom. But no—the blonde omega was there, sitting cross-legged on the floor outside Adam’s flat. Rain had plastered his hair to his pale, angular face, and his hoodie hung limply around him like a sodden, tattered shield. His arms were wrapped tightly around his knees, as if trying to make himself smaller, less visible.

Adam’s heart clenched, an unwelcome ache blooming in his chest. Don’t. He swallowed hard, forcing his feet to move forward. His wet shoes squeaked against the polished floor as he approached the flat. Lucifer’s head tilted up, his blue eyes locking onto Adam’s with a raw, silent plea that hit like a punch to the gut.

Adam refused to falter. He clenched his jaw, focusing on the lock and twisting his key with deliberate precision.

Lucifer stirred behind him, his lips parting as though to speak, but no words came. Instead, he bit down, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, his face crumpling into something too vulnerable, too desperate for Adam to bear.

Adam shoved the door open and stepped through, forcing himself to keep walking despite the way Lucifer’s gaze lingered on his back like a physical weight. The door clicked shut behind him, and he leaned against it, his breath coming out in a shaky groan.

“What the fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, running both hands over his face. His fingers dragged against the damp skin, the motion doing nothing to soothe the turmoil churning inside him.

He pressed his palms against the door as if it could shield him from the storm outside—and the one waiting just beyond the threshold. Lucifer. Sitting there, looking like the ghost of every regret Adam had tried to bury. Looking lost.

Adam squeezed his eyes shut, the ache in his chest deepening. He hated how his mind betrayed him, replaying every moment they’d shared—the laughter, the fights, the stolen glances. And now this... Whatever this was.

He paced the room, dripping water onto the worn carpet as his thoughts twisted into a tangled mess. What did Lucifer want? Why now? Why him? The questions buzzed in his skull like static, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore them, they only grew louder.

Adam glanced at the door, his hand instinctively lifting toward the handle before he stopped himself. No. He couldn’t open it. He couldn’t face Lucifer—not like this.

But the memory of those blue eyes refused to fade. Eyes that had once sparkled with mischief, that had warmed with affection. Now, they were hollowed out, ringed with shadows and begging for something Adam wasn’t sure he could give.

He let out a frustrated growl, raking his fingers through his hair.

“What the fuck are you doing, Lucifer?” he muttered, his voice low and pained.

The storm outside rumbled again, the sound rattling the windowpanes as if demanding an answer Adam didn’t have. He sank onto the edge of his couch, his head dropping into his hands. He didn’t know how to fix this—didn’t know if he wanted to fix this.

All he knew was that Lucifer was still out there. Waiting.

And Adam wasn’t sure how long he could leave him in the cold.

Adam pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the dull thrum of his heartbeat under his damp shirt.

“Maybe tomorrow will be better,” he muttered to himself, voice soft and uncertain. Surely, Lucifer wouldn’t stay out there much longer. Surely, he’d go home, find some semblance of sense, and leave Adam to his carefully constructed chaos.

With that fragile hope, Adam forced himself to undress, dry off, and collapse into bed. The storm raged outside, its relentless rhythm lulling him into a fitful sleep. But the morning brought no reprieve.

Lucifer was still there.

Every morning, Adam cracked his door open to find those familiar blue eyes staring at nothing, his figure huddled on the floor like a sentinel waiting for orders. Every evening, Adam returned home to see the same sight: Lucifer, sitting as though his entire world revolved around that cold, unyielding hallway. The routine became a knot in Adam’s stomach, tightening with every passing day.

He tried to focus on his life. Work, therapy, doctor’s visits, and medication became the cornerstones of his survival. But even as he poured his energy into moving forward, Lucifer’s presence loomed in the back of his mind. The omega didn’t speak, didn’t plead, didn’t move. He was just there, an echo of something Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to remember. And yet, every glance at him chipped away at Adam’s resolve.

Almost a month passed. Adam kept waiting for the moment Lucifer would finally give up and leave. He wanted it to happen. He needed it to happen. But when it didn’t, when Lucifer’s silent vigil stretched on, Adam found himself caught in an unbearable limbo.

Then one day, everything changed.

Adam jogged home, his bag slung over one shoulder and his breath fogging the chilly air. But when he reached his floor, he froze. The space outside his flat was empty.

No Lucifer.

His heart stuttered, a cold sweat prickling along his spine. His legs trembled beneath him as he scanned the hallway, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t quite name. Panic? Guilt? Both?

Adam clutched his bag tightly, his fingers digging into the worn leather as his gaze darted down the corridor.

“Lucifer?” he called, his voice echoing off the silent walls. Nothing. No answer.

He fumbled for his phone, swiping it open with a shaking hand even though he knew it was pointless. Lucifer didn’t have his new number; Adam had made sure of that. Still, the empty screen staring back at him felt like a slap. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.

His shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes against the sting of disappointment. He shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn’t. But the emptiness outside his door felt heavier than Lucifer’s silent presence ever had.

“Maybe he didn’t care as much as he claimed,” Adam muttered bitterly, his voice low and wavering. He clicked his tongue, forcing his emotions down as he unlocked his flat and stepped inside. Slamming the door behind him, he grunted, “Good. Better this way.”

But the following week was anything but better.

The silence was unbearable. The emptiness gnawed at him, a strange, dull ache that he couldn’t shake. The hallway felt colder, the evenings quieter, and the walls of his flat pressed in closer with each passing day. Adam tried to convince himself that this was what he wanted. That Lucifer’s absence was a relief.

It wasn’t.

He missed him. It was absurd and maddening, but Adam couldn’t help it. He found himself lingering at his door in the mornings, half-expecting to see a familiar blond figure huddled on the floor. When he returned in the evenings, his steps slowed, his heart sinking with the realization that Lucifer wasn’t there.

Adam didn’t know how to explain the void Lucifer had left behind. Anger and sadness warred within him, tangled with something softer, something dangerously close to longing. And he hated himself for it.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the sky in muted golds and greys, Adam stood in his kitchen, staring out the window. His dinner sat untouched on the counter behind him. He didn’t have the appetite. His mind was elsewhere, circling back to the same thought over and over again.

Where was Lucifer?

And why did it feel like a piece of Adam had vanished along with him?

The warm scent of cinnamon and fresh bread wrapped around Adam like a comforting blanket as he stepped into his family home. He barely had time to close the door before his mama appeared, her face lighting up in pure joy.

"Adam!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "Oh, my baby! You’re here! Look at you—are you eating well? You’re not too thin, are you? Oh, your cheeks look a little hollow. Are you getting enough sleep? How’s work? How’s therapy going? Oh, and the bonfire last month—how was that?"

“Mama—” Adam tried to interject, but she was already dragging him toward the cozy kitchen, her questions coming faster than he could keep up.

“Are you drinking enough water? You are drinking water, right? And those pills the doctor gave you—are they helping? Do they make you feel okay? Not too groggy? Oh, Adam, you’ve been working too hard, haven’t you? You’re always working. Do you have time for yourself? Are you—"

“Mama!” Adam laughed, finally managing to get a word in edgewise. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “One question at a time, please. And yes, I’m fine. I promise.”

She stepped back, narrowing her eyes at him like she didn’t quite believe him, but her smile never faltered. “Good. Now, sit down. You look tired, and I’ll make you some tea.”

Adam didn’t argue. He sank into one of the cushioned kitchen chairs, letting himself relax as his mama bustled about, her presence filling the room with warmth and energy. Moments like these reminded him of how much he missed her, of how easy it was to fall into the comforting rhythms of home.

As they sipped tea together, her questions slowed, turning softer. The conversation drifted naturally, and soon they were talking about his father.

“When did you know you loved him?” Adam asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the steaming mug in his hands.

His mama’s face softened, her eyes glistening with a mixture of joy and nostalgia. “Oh, I knew from the moment I met him. Your father… he was special. Not because he was a beta, but because of who he was. He had the gentlest soul, Adam. He was patient, kind, and always so thoughtful. When he looked at me, I felt seen. Truly seen.”

Adam smiled faintly, his chest aching with a bittersweet warmth.

“I barely remember him now,” he admitted, glancing at the photograph hanging on the wall. His father’s warm smile stared back at him, a man forever frozen in time.

His mama’s hand covered his, her touch firm yet tender.

“You were so young when we lost him,” she murmured. “It’s okay if the memories are fuzzy. But Adam, I want you to know this—your father loved you more than anything in this world. He would be so proud of you. No matter what.”

Adam’s throat tightened, and he nodded, unable to find the right words. He looked back at the photograph, his mind swirling with questions.

“Mama,” he began hesitantly, “was Dad being a beta ever… a problem for you?”

She blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh. “For me? Never. Not for a single moment.”

“Your father was the kindest man I’d ever met. He never pushed boundaries, never made me feel less than. But…” Her voice trailed off, her smile fading slightly.

“But?” Adam pressed, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

She sighed, her gaze drifting to the photograph as well. “Your grandparents on my side… they disapproved. Things were different back then, Adam. Anything out of the ordinary was seen as unacceptable. Unthinkable. They wanted me to marry an alpha, and when I refused, they disowned me. They cut off all contact when I married your father.”

Adam swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the edge of his mug.

“I didn’t know that,” he said softly.

“It wasn’t your burden to carry,” his mama said gently, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “But it was worth it. Every hardship, every struggle. Your father was worth it, and so are you.”

He stared at her for a moment, her unwavering love and strength making his chest ache.

“Mama,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, “What if—”

He stopped, taking a deep breath. “What if the person you love… what if it feels impossible?”

Her brows furrowed in concern. “Adam, what’s this about?”

He hesitated, his lips parting and closing as he struggled to find the words. Finally, he blurted out, “Lucifer told me he loves me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. His mama’s expression shifted, her eyes widening briefly before softening with understanding.

“Lucifer,” she repeated, her tone careful.

Adam nodded, his voice quieter now. “He said… he’s been in love with me since we were kids.”

Her eyes searched his face, as if trying to piece together his thoughts.

“And how do you feel about that?” she asked gently.

Adam let out a shaky laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I— I mean, it’s Lucifer. He’s…”

He paused, his throat tightening. “He’s always been there. Always. But this? I didn’t see it coming. Not like this.”

His mama reached out, cupping his face with both hands.

“Adam,” she said softly, her eyes brimming with warmth, “Sometimes love comes in ways we don’t expect. That doesn’t make it any less real. If you need time to figure out how you feel, take it. But don’t shut him out just because it’s scary.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “It’s not just scary, Mama. It’s everything. It’s him.”

“And maybe,” she said, her voice filled with quiet conviction, “That’s exactly why it’s worth it.”

Adam squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I don’t know what to think, Mama. I don’t know what to feel. Lucifer was—he is—everything to me. My best friend, my other half. We were always together, from the time we were kids. We shared a bloody nest, for goodness’ sake."

He let out a shaky laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I never thought… I never thought he’d be interested in me. I always thought…"

His voice trailed off, the words caught somewhere between his heart and his throat. He stared at the table, his brows knitted together as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"I don’t even know what I thought anymore," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

His mama reached across the table and gently placed her hand on his arm, grounding him. "Take your time, sweetheart. I’m listening."

Adam nodded, biting his lip as he lowered his gaze. "Lucifer… Mama, he’s done some bad things. Some really bad things."

The weight of those words pressed down on him, and he felt the familiar ache in his chest as guilt and anger swirled together. He barely noticed the way his mama’s expression softened, her thumb brushing soothingly against his forearm.

"Are these bad things the reason you fell out?" she asked quietly, her voice as gentle as a whisper.

Adam winced, his heart twisting painfully. He looked up at her, his eyes wide and anxious, like a child caught in the storm of his own emotions.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice cracking under the weight of the confession.

His mama’s lips curved into a pained smile, her eyes brimming with understanding and sorrow. "I knew something had happened between the two of you," she said, her tone steady and warm. "I just wish you’d told me earlier."

Adam made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, his hands gripping the edge of the table.

"But Mama," he said, his voice rising with desperation, "I barely knew the whole story myself. Lucifer’s only just started telling me… more. More of the story, I mean. Things I didn’t even know."

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his face.

"You don’t have to tell me what Lucifer did," she said softly. "I can see in your eyes that you don’t want to. But… is it something unforgivable?"

Adam opened his mouth to answer but then closed it again, his expression crumpling under the weight of the question. His voice, when it finally came, was barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he said, his throat tight. "Yes, it’s unforgivable. But…"

He paused, his hands trembling slightly as he looked down at the table, unable to meet her eyes. "But it’s Lucifer at the same time. It’s Lucifer, Mama. He’s the one who did this, who hurt me. But he’s also…"

His voice cracked, and he dragged a hand down his face, trying to keep his composure. "He’s my Luci. He’s the one who’s always been there for me. The one who—who made me laugh when I didn’t want to. The one who stayed with me through everything. And now he’s done these terrible things, and I just—"

His voice broke completely, and he pressed a hand over his chest, as if trying to steady the storm brewing inside him. "I don’t know how to make sense of it. How to make sense of him."

His mama’s hand moved from his arm to his cheek, cupping it gently. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but her voice remained calm and steady.

"Oh, Adam," she said, her thumb brushing against his cheek. "Love is messy. People are messy. Sometimes, the people we love the most are the ones who hurt us the deepest."

Adam closed his eyes, leaning into her touch like he had when he was a child seeking comfort after a bad dream.

"What do I do, Mama?" he whispered. "How do I forgive him for something I don’t think I can ever forget?"

She was silent for a moment, her gaze searching his face as if looking for the right words. Finally, she spoke. "You take your time, Adam. Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It doesn’t mean excusing what he did. But if you decide you want him in your life, you’ll have to decide if you can move forward together, scars and all. And if you can’t…"

Her voice faltered, but she pressed on. "If you can’t, that’s okay too. You deserve love, my son. The kind that lifts you up, not one that tears you down."

Adam opened his eyes, staring at her as her words sank in. He nodded slowly, though the ache in his chest didn’t lessen.

"I don’t know if I can let him go," he admitted softly. "I don’t think I want to."

She smiled faintly, her thumb brushing away a tear he hadn’t realized had fallen.

"Then don’t," she said simply. "Not yet, at least. Let yourself figure it out. One step at a time."

Adam swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to go away.

"One step at a time," he echoed, his voice trembling.

His mama pulled him into a warm hug, holding him close like she had when he was a little boy. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Adam let himself lean into her embrace, letting her strength and warmth carry him through the storm of his thoughts.

Adam meandered his way back home, his steps lighter, a faint smile lingering after his heart-to-heart with his mama. For the first time in weeks, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease. He glanced up at the overcast sky, the faint hum of a tune escaping his lips. His expression soured when the sky answered him with a crackle of thunder. Of course. Rain again.

He rolled his green eyes and quickened his pace, muttering under his breath as the first drops splattered onto the pavement. By the time he reached the doors of his apartment building, the rain had turned into a full-fledged downpour. He barely managed to slip inside before getting completely drenched, shaking off the water clinging to his jacket as he climbed the stairs. His footsteps echoed in the narrow stairwell, the sound comforting in its familiarity.

But when he reached his floor, he froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat.

Lucifer was there.

Adam’s green eyes widened as they took in the sight of him. The same spot, the same posture. But something was different—worse. Lucifer looked... thinner, frailer, as if the weight of the world had been crushing him. His hoodie, worn and stretched out, clung damply to his frame, and his ripped jeans looked even more threadbare than before. He was curled up against the wall, knees to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. His head was buried against his knees, his golden hair damp and sticking to his neck.

Adam’s brows furrowed deeply. He could feel the worry churning in his gut, a sick twist of guilt and frustration mingling as he approached. But Lucifer didn’t move. Not a twitch. Even as Adam passed within arm’s reach, Lucifer remained eerily still, his breathing shallow and uneven.

Adam stopped at his door, biting the inside of his cheek. His fingers fumbled with his keys, his eyes flicking back to the fragile figure huddled by the wall. He couldn’t ignore the gnawing sensation in his chest—worry, anger, pity—it all tangled together, making his hands shake as he unlocked the door. He pushed it open and stood on the threshold, staring into the comforting warmth of his flat.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his back to Lucifer, gripping the doorknob tightly enough to make his knuckles ache. He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes upward as if the heavens owed him an answer.

"Lucifer," he barked suddenly, his voice sharp and cutting through the quiet like a whip.

He heard the subtle hitch in Lucifer’s breathing behind him, saw the faint tremor ripple through the blonde's shoulders. Lucifer didn’t lift his head, but Adam could tell he was listening.

"Make sure to lock the door behind you," Adam said, his tone clipped as he stepped into his flat. He shrugged off his coat, letting it fall haphazardly onto a nearby chair.

Lucifer’s head snapped up, his blue eyes wide and startled as they flicked toward Adam’s back. He didn’t move at first, frozen in disbelief.

"Well?" Adam bit out, glaring over his shoulder at the empty doorway. "Are you coming in or not?"

That broke whatever hesitation Lucifer had. He scrambled to his feet, unsteady but quick, and shuffled inside. His movements were hesitant, almost timid, as if he feared Adam might change his mind and shut the door in his face. He lingered in the entryway, his fingers brushing nervously against the doorframe, eyes darting around the flat like a skittish animal.

"Take off your shoes!" Adam snapped, not bothering to look at him as he kicked his own sneakers toward the corner. "I don’t want you tracking dirt everywhere."

Lucifer jumped, immediately bending down to untie his worn sneakers. He placed them neatly beside Adam’s, his trembling hands carefully aligning them before he turned and locked the door. His fingers hovered over the locks for a moment, brushing them as if to make sure they were secured.

Adam sighed as the door clicked shut behind Lucifer, the sound echoing in the quiet of his flat. He hung his coat on the hook by the door and ran a hand through his damp hair, watching out of the corner of his eye as Lucifer lingered awkwardly near the entrance. The blonde omega looked so small, almost like a ghost of the person Adam had grown up with. His hoodie hung off his thin frame, the fabric frayed and damp from days of sitting out in the elements.

"Are you just going to stand there?" Adam snapped, his voice sharper than he intended. He turned to face Lucifer fully, his green eyes narrowed. "If you're going to be here, you might as well make yourself useful. Go sit on the couch or something."

Lucifer flinched but nodded, his movements hesitant and sluggish as he shuffled toward the couch. His knees wobbled slightly, and Adam felt his stomach twist at how frail the other omega seemed. Lucifer perched on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, his eyes fixed on the floor like he didn’t belong.

Adam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do you want some tea?" he asked, his voice softer now. He was already moving toward the kitchen before Lucifer could answer, pulling out a kettle and filling it with water.

"I..." Lucifer’s voice was barely audible, trembling and small. "Yes, please. Thank you."

Adam nodded but didn’t look back. The sound of the kettle filling with water drowned out the nagging thoughts that swirled in his head. He busied himself with preparing the tea, pulling out two mismatched mugs and a box of chamomile. As he waited for the water to boil, he stole a glance over his shoulder.

Lucifer hadn’t moved. He was still sitting there, his shoulders hunched and his head down, as if trying to make himself invisible.

"Why are you back here, Lucifer?" Adam asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

Lucifer tensed, his head lifting slightly but not enough to meet Adam’s gaze.

"I... I didn’t know where else to go," he admitted, his voice cracking. "I—I just needed to see you."

Adam’s hands clenched around the edge of the counter, his knuckles whitening.

"You’ve been sitting outside my flat for weeks," he said coldly. "Weeks, Lucifer. Do you even know how insane that is? How messed up it looks?"

Lucifer flinched again, his hands trembling in his lap.

"I didn’t mean to make you angry," he said quietly. "I just... I didn’t know how else to... to make things right."

Adam let out a hollow laugh, turning his attention back to the tea. "Right. Because sitting outside like some lost puppy was definitely going to fix everything."

He poured the steaming water into the mugs, the faint scent of chamomile filling the air. He placed a mug in front of Lucifer, who looked at it like he didn’t deserve it.

"Thank you," Lucifer murmured again, his voice hoarse. He wrapped his hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into his fingers.

Adam sat down across from him, his green eyes sharp and probing.

"Talk," he said firmly. "If you’re going to be here, if you’re going to invade my space like this, you’d better have something to say."

Lucifer looked up at him then, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"I’m sorry," he whispered. "For everything. For hurting you. For... for being selfish. I thought—I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was push you away."

Adam’s jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You did more than push me away, Luci," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "You broke me. You made me question everything—who I was, who you were. And now you’re here, sitting on my couch like... like you think an apology will fix it all."

"I don’t think that," Lucifer said quickly, his voice desperate. "I don’t. I just... I just wanted a chance to explain. To tell you the truth. And to tell you that I... I love you, Adam..."

The words hung heavy in the air between them, and Adam felt his chest tighten. He looked away, staring at the wall as a thousand memories flooded his mind—nights spent laughing, fights that left them both in tears, and the overwhelming pain of betrayal.

"I don’t know if I can forgive you," Adam said finally, his voice breaking. "I don’t know if I want to."

Lucifer nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Adam’s words.

"I understand," he said softly. "I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just... I needed you to know. And if this is the last time, I see you, then at least I’ll know I tried."

Adam stared at him, his heart aching in ways he didn’t think were possible. For a long moment, he said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them like a fragile thread.

"Finish your tea," he said quietly. "Then we’ll talk."

Lucifer blinked down at the steaming cup of tea, his trembling fingers curling around it. He leaned in closer, his nose brushing the rising vapor as he inhaled the sweet, warm scent.

“Apple, cinnamon, and raisin?” he murmured, his voice carrying a thread of surprise.

He glanced toward Adam with wide, uncertain eyes. “You still drink black tea?”

Adam shifted on his feet, his shoulders tensing as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, well... I guess some things haven’t changed much.”

Lucifer’s lips twitched, and for the briefest moment, a faint, trembling smile graced his pale, blue-tinged lips. He nodded silently and took a tentative sip from the cup, the warmth of the liquid contrasting with his cold hands.

Adam exhaled sharply, his damp hair falling into his eyes as he ran a hand through it. He sighed heavily, his voice emerging soft but filled with weariness as he finally spoke. “You’d better start talking, Luci. If you’re going to sit outside my door for weeks, looking like death warmed over, and then barge into my home, the least you can do is explain yourself.”

Lucifer’s head dipped slightly, his fingers tightening around the tea as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered.

“Not really barging in if you invite me in,” he muttered under his breath, his tone defensive but quiet. When Adam didn’t waver, his sharp green eyes boring into him, Lucifer swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I...” His voice cracked, breaking into a whisper. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Adam frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “What do you mean you had nowhere else to go? What about your house?”

Lucifer’s head snapped up at that, his wide, startled blue eyes locking onto Adam’s face. “You... you know I own a house?”

Adam flushed, shifting awkwardly. “I mean... I kept tabs on you. After everything. Just to... make sure you were okay.”

The admission hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Lucifer’s expression flickered between hope, sorrow, and something unspoken. His shoulders tensed, but then they sagged as though a weight had settled there.

“I lost the house,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Adam blinked, his brows knitting together in disbelief. “How’d you lose your house?”

Lucifer pinched his lips together, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “It’s hard to keep a house when you’re behind on mortgage payments,” he muttered bitterly.

Adam’s frown deepened. “What about your job? Last I heard, you were doing well in your family’s company—”

Lucifer flinched visibly at the words, his hands tightening around the tea as his body curled inward.

“Things with my family...” His voice wavered, and he trailed off, staring down into the tea as if it held the answers he couldn’t find. “They’ve only gotten worse since... since...”

“Luci.” Adam’s voice was sharper now, a mixture of concern and frustration. “Are... are you homeless?”

Lucifer stiffened, his gaze darting away as his lips pressed into a thin line. When he didn’t answer, Adam’s stomach dropped, and he stepped closer, lowering himself onto the couch beside Lucifer.

“How bad is everything?” Adam asked gently, his tone softening. It was the same tone he’d used years ago, back when comforting Lucifer had been second nature.

The effect was immediate. A shiver ran through Lucifer’s body, and a heavy wave of omega pheromones filled the room, thick with despair. Adam’s throat tightened at the sheer intensity of it, but he didn’t back away.

“Why didn’t you go to...” He hesitated, his words faltering. Why didn’t you come to me? The question hung, unspoken but weighty. “Why didn’t you go to my mama? You know she would’ve helped you.”

Lucifer shook his head slowly, his voice breaking as he replied. “I... I didn’t want to impose. I’ve already caused enough damage. I didn’t want... didn’t want to bring more problems into your family.”

Adam let out a frustrated breath, his fingers twitching as he resisted the urge to snap.

“You could have come to me, Luci,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer pitch. “I would’ve helped you.”

Lucifer’s head shot up, his blue eyes blazing with a mix of disbelief and anger. “You hated me.”

“I do not hate you,” Adam said firmly, his tone exasperated. “I was angry—furious—but hate? I could never hate you. If you’d come to me, I wouldn’t have turned you away. I would’ve...”

“Really?” Lucifer’s voice cracked, his expression breaking apart like fragile glass. His lips trembled, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “You really would’ve helped me?”

Adam’s heart twisted painfully. He hadn’t seen Lucifer like this—so open, so raw—since they were teenagers. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course I would’ve. No matter what’s happened between us, I wouldn’t have let you suffer like this.”

The first tear slipped down Lucifer’s cheek, and he quickly scrubbed it away with the back of his hand. But the dam had broken, and he soon collapsed against Adam, shaking with quiet sobs.

“Addie, I’m so sorry. I—I really am,” he stammered, his voice muffled against Adam’s shoulder.

Adam hesitated, his body stiffening at first, but then he awkwardly wrapped an arm around Lucifer’s trembling form.

“Look, we’ll talk about everything later. But you have to promise me something.” He leaned back slightly, just enough to look Lucifer in the eyes. “You’re not lying about any of this. About your family, the house, all of it.”

Lucifer nodded fervently, his breath hitching as he wiped at his face. “I’m not lying. I swear, Addie. It’s all true. I—I can show you my phone. I have texts and calls from my family... proof...”

“Alright,” Adam murmured, his tone gentler now. “Alright, Luci. I believe you.”

But even as he said the words, a deep unease settled in his chest. Whatever had brought Lucifer to this point—it wasn’t going to be an easy road to fix it. And yet, as he held Lucifer close, Adam couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, they could figure it out together.

The next morning came slowly, the soft grey light of dawn spilling into the small studio flat, muted by thick rainclouds lingering from the storm. Adam stirred first, blinking groggily at the ceiling. His body felt heavy, weighed down not just by sleep but by the emotional strain of the night before. He glanced toward the couch, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the small, curled figure of Lucifer, still buried beneath a mound of blankets.

Lucifer was motionless except for the faint rise and fall of his chest. His face was partially hidden, but Adam could see faint streaks of dried tears on his cheeks. It made his stomach twist in ways he wasn’t ready to unpack.

With a sigh, Adam swung his legs over the edge of his bed and padded toward the kitchenette. His flat wasn’t much, but it was functional: a few cabinets, a stove, and enough counter space to make something simple. He set about preparing tea again, the ritual grounding him. The faint clink of the kettle seemed loud in the stillness, and Adam winced, glancing toward the couch. Lucifer didn’t stir.

Pouring the tea, Adam debated for a moment before grabbing a piece of toast from the breadbox. He smeared it lightly with jam, his movements slower than usual. His mind was elsewhere—on the weight of the air between them, on how they kept colliding like strangers last night when once they had moved seamlessly as one.

Adam approached the couch, placing the tea and toast on the small table nearby. He crouched slightly, his green eyes scanning Lucifer’s face.

"Luci," he said softly, his voice husky from sleep. "Wake up. You need to eat something."

Lucifer shifted beneath the blankets, a low whimper escaping his lips. Slowly, his blue eyes cracked open, unfocused and still rimmed red. He blinked up at Adam, confusion flickering across his face before he seemed to remember where he was.

"Morning," Adam said awkwardly, his hand twitching as though he wanted to reach out but stopped himself. "I made tea. And toast."

Lucifer nodded mutely, sitting up slowly. The blankets slipped from his shoulders, revealing the borrowed pyjamas that hung loosely on his too-thin frame. He accepted the tea, cradling it between his hands like it was the only source of warmth he had.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Adam watched him for a beat, his hands falling to his knees as he pushed himself upright. “I’ll make something more filling in a bit. Eggs or something. Just... eat that for now.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, turning toward the kitchen again. The space between them felt suffocating, each word like a small stone tossed into a vast, still lake.

As Adam fiddled with a frying pan, he couldn’t stop stealing glances over his shoulder. Lucifer sipped his tea but barely touched the toast, his movements sluggish and mechanical. It was maddening, this distance between them, when once they had been so attuned to each other.

The day dragged on like that. Small interactions, half-finished sentences, and lingering silences. Lucifer shuffled around the flat, bumping into Adam every time they crossed paths. Each time, he muttered a soft, barely audible “Sorry,” and each time, Adam waved it off with a tight-lipped nod, his frustration growing—not at Lucifer, but at how unnatural this all felt.

By the time evening came, Adam had managed to coax Lucifer into eating a proper meal, though it had taken more effort than he liked to admit. He set up the couch again, piling it high with the same blankets as the night before. But as he stood there, staring down at the makeshift bed, a sense of wrongness gnawed at him.

It wasn’t right. Lucifer didn’t belong on the couch. He belonged... Adam swallowed hard, turning away. He didn’t want to think about it. About how badly he wanted to pull Lucifer to his bed, to hold him close and whisper reassurances until the cracks in his heart began to mend. It wasn’t time for that. Not yet.

Instead, Adam climbed into his own bed, his body sinking into the familiar mattress. From where he lay, he could see Lucifer on the couch, his form barely visible beneath the pile of blankets. The proximity was a small comfort, enough to ease the tightness in his chest, but it wasn’t enough to stop the lingering ache.

“If... if you need me,” Adam began hesitantly, his voice cutting through the quiet. He trailed off, unsure of what to say, of how to reach out without tearing open old wounds.

Lucifer sniffled, curling tighter into the blankets. He didn’t reply. Adam pressed his lips together, his heart sinking as he realized that was answer enough. He turned onto his side, willing himself to relax, to sleep.

And then he heard it.

It was soft at first, muffled as if Lucifer was desperately trying to suppress it. But the sound grew, breaking through the silence: quiet, broken sobs. Adam froze, his breath catching in his throat. The sound was like a knife twisting in his chest, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Lucifer was crying. He was crying, and Adam hated it—hated how helpless it made him feel. His fingers curled into the sheets as he debated, his mind a whirlwind of indecision. But in the end, he stayed where he was, his back turned to the couch.

He told himself it was for the best. They both needed space, that it wasn’t the right time to push. But deep down, he knew the truth: he wasn’t ready either. Not to face the depth of Lucifer’s pain. Not to reopen the wounds he had spent years trying to close.

So, he lay there, his eyes burning as he stared at the wall, and listened as Lucifer cried himself to sleep.

Adam waited until Lucifer's breathing softened, a steady rhythm that signaled he was deep in sleep. The moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting pale silver streaks across Lucifer's tear-streaked face. Adam's heart clenched at the sight. Lucifer had always been a fortress, stoic and unshakable. Yet tonight, that carefully constructed image had crumbled, leaving behind a raw, vulnerable man who wept silently into the shadows.

Sliding off the bed as quietly as he could, Adam crept toward the old red-and-orange hoodie tossed carelessly on the chair. His fingers brushed against the fraying fabric, a relic of better days, before digging into the pocket to retrieve Lucifer’s iPhone. Adam hesitated, his gaze darting to Lucifer. Even in sleep, his face was troubled, his brows slightly furrowed.

"I'm sorry," Adam whispered under his breath, clutching the phone tightly.

He tried the first passcode that came to mind—Lucifer's birthday. Incorrect. Christmas? No. The numbers Lucifer jokingly referred to as his "lucky ones"? Still no. Frustration bubbled as Adam rubbed his temple. He even tried his own birthday in a moment of desperation, but nothing worked. He was about to give up when, almost absentmindedly, he entered the date they had first officially met.

The screen unlocked with a soft click. Adam froze, his breath catching. He stared at the illuminated screen, blinking in disbelief. Of all the possible codes, Lucifer had chosen that day. A bittersweet pang echoed in Adam's chest as his gaze returned to the sleeping man.

"You sentimental fool," he muttered, but his words lacked bite.

His thumb hovered over the screen, unsure of where to start. Curiosity and concern warred within him, but something told Adam he needed to understand. He tapped on the messaging app, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

The first message was from Lucifer's father: "You are the greatest disappointment this family has ever endured. Not even fit to carry the Morningstar name."

Adam’s jaw tightened. He scrolled further.

"An omega who can’t even serve his purpose. What use are you to anyone?"

"You can’t provide. You can’t lead. You’re nothing but dead weight."

Message after message was a relentless barrage of cruelty. Words that stabbed like knives. Adam’s chest tightened painfully as he read them, his stomach twisting into knots.

Then came the emails. They were no better. His mother had written lengthy diatribes laced with venom, questioning Lucifer’s worth as a human being. She accused him of staining their lineage, called him poisonous, unworthy, a burden to be discarded.

Adam’s hands trembled as he read the final email, dated just days ago.

"You’ll never be loved, Lucifer. You are broken. Useless. A waste of space."

The screen blurred as Adam’s eyes burned with unshed tears. He lowered the phone to his lap, unable to read another word. His gaze fell to Lucifer, who lay curled up, his body tense even in sleep. How had he survived this? How had he carried the weight of such hatred, such rejection?

Adam’s legs gave way, and he sank to the floor, his knees hitting the hardwood with a dull thud. He could barely breathe. This wasn’t just cruelty; it was a calculated effort to break Lucifer, to strip him of any semblance of dignity or hope.

His voice cracked as he whispered, "Luci... how have you endured this? How could you go through all of this and still... still do those things to me?"

Adam reached out with trembling fingers, brushing the golden strands of Lucifer’s hair away from his face. He tenderly wiped away the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, his heart shattering with each gentle caress.

"You deserved so much more," Adam murmured, his voice breaking. "You deserved love, respect... everything they denied you…but you also did bad things too..”

His anger simmered beneath the surface, directed at the Morningstars and their unyielding, heartless expectations. An omega in a family of alphas—Lucifer had never stood a chance against their prejudice. And the sheer audacity of them demanding he mate with an older alpha, as though his entire worth depended on whom he married—it made Adam’s blood boil.

He cradled Lucifer’s face gently, his thumb tracing small circles on his cheek. "You are not poisonous. You are not broken. You are not unworthy," Adam whispered fiercely. "You are loved. Maybe not by them, but by…Always by…."

Lucifer stirred slightly, a faint whimper escaping his lips. Adam leaned closer, pressing a feather-light kiss to his temple. He held him like he was made of glass, as though the sheer weight of his care could mend the shattered pieces of Lucifer's heart.

"I don’t know if I can forgive you for the things you’ve done but…but I’ll fight for you," Adam vowed softly, tears slipping down his own cheeks now. "Even if they won't, I will. Your family don’t deserve you.”

Lucifer sighed in his sleep, his body relaxing slightly as though he could feel Adam’s silent promise. Adam stayed there, his fingers tangled in golden hair, his heart beating with a fierce determination. He would protect Lucifer, no matter what.

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Devil's Night~

hello everyone! i'm back with the part 02 of devil's night. it is finished, i think. it's not my best writing, i haven't had a great day. so i hope you enjoyed it a little.

the idea for this is inspired by @things-arent-what-they-seem66's AU of adam and lilith switching places.

i know harvest is over but i have a few more things to write!

hope you all enjoy it!

part 01 - part 02

@adamsappleweek

Lucifer was beside himself. A strange, prickling sensation crawled over his skin, making every hair stand on end as he paced his lavish, dimly lit office. He didn’t think he’d ever been this nervous before—hell, even ‘nervous’ felt like a poor word for it. Agitated, tense, almost terrified. As he glanced around the vast space, his gaze flickered over elegant but strange mementos that barely felt like his own, particularly a row of glass-encased rubber ducks on the wall. His other self shared his fascination with the odd trinkets, but even that taste seemed tempered, refined. Controlled.

Control. That was the key difference.

He’d only been in this twisted mirror world a short time, but it already felt like it might drown him. The day’s schedule—a rigid, suffocating list of duties and audiences—mocked him from the polished mahogany desk. Meetings. Meetings with the damned. Meetings with the Sins. Meetings with Heaven. How the hell did his other self, this polished, all-powerful version of him, keep it all together? And on top of it, somehow managed to be the kind of partner and father Lucifer could never imagine himself being. That reality sent an unfamiliar chill down his spine.

His jaw clenched as his eyes traced over the maddeningly neat schedule. His other self apparently held weekly meetings with Heaven—a feat he couldn’t even fathom. He’d spent centuries barely able to get Heaven’s attention, and here this alternate version of him was practically scheduling tea with them. Every cell in his body bristled at the idea. When did he find time for Adam? And Charlie? Yet somehow, this Lucifer was doing it all.

With a low growl, he sank into the plush velvet chair, feeling its cool embrace swallow him up. His mind drifted to Adam—Adam, who was evidently married to him in this version of Hell, and who was pregnant with their second child. It was surreal. In his universe, this possibility had never crossed his mind, yet here, he was everything Adam needed and more. It made his heart ache in a way he didn’t want to admit. Adam had confessed his love to him—him, the impostor—in that soft, genuine way that Lucifer knew was meant for the other man. Each declaration sent a flutter through him, a buzz he couldn’t ignore, even as it filled him with guilt. He couldn’t escape the feeling that he was treading on sacred ground, some universe where he’d somehow gotten things…right.

Still, as he slouched lower in his seat, an unspoken question gnawed at him: What was wrong with him? How had this other Lucifer mastered an empire, commanded respect, and found time for a family, while he himself had barely managed to scrape by with half-hearted rule? Responsibility had always felt like an anchor around his neck. He avoided it. Yet here was a version of himself who carried it with ease, with honor. He was the King of Hell that mortals feared, that legends whispered of in terror. And then there was…him. Lucifer, the one who spent more time drinking or escaping into distraction than running his kingdom.

A soft knock at the door broke his spiral of thoughts, and he straightened, surprised by the twinge of anticipation that sparked through him.

“Come in,” he called, voice gruffer than he intended.

The door creaked open, and there stood Adam, his face bathed in a warm glow, a gentle calm that Lucifer found himself craving more with each passing day. Beneath Adam’s loose shirt, his rounded belly was unmistakable, the quiet yet powerful reminder of the life growing inside him. Lucifer’s gaze softened; his eyes drawn irresistibly to that swell.

How was this even possible? he wondered, still electrified and mystified by the thought. Lucifer wanted to look, wanted to part Adam’s thighs and see if he had a pussy. That had to be the only way Adam could be pregnant.

Did Adam have a vagina in his dimension?

“Hey,” Adam murmured, his smile a mix of shyness and insight as he caught Lucifer’s stare. “I thought I’d check on you. You look…tense.”

Lucifer chuckled, a low, dry sound as he gestured to the miserable stack of schedules spread before him. “You could say that.”

But when he saw Adam’s brow furrow in concern, Lucifer straightened and quickly tried to smooth down his unruly hair. “It’s nothing, really. Just…work.”

Adam slowly waddled across the office, and Lucifer’s sharp red-and-gold eyes followed him, softening with each step. There was something entrancing in the way Adam’s hand instinctively went to his stomach, rubbing it with gentle affection.

“You’ve been working hard. Then again, you always work hard.” Adam’s words were quiet, almost habitual, as he approached Lucifer’s desk.

Just as he reached the edge of Lucifer’s plush office chair, Lucifer jumped up, offering it to him.

Adam laughed softly but shook his head, remaining standing. “I’m fine, really.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to insist, then thought better of it and remained on his feet as well.

“I work too much, don’t I?” he asked, his voice softer than he intended.

Adam reached out, brushing a warm hand over Lucifer’s cheek, his fingers caressing the unfamiliar lines of his face.

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Adam replied, his smile touched with affection. “But you’ve always brushed me off, saying you had to work hard to keep Hell safe.”

Lucifer closed his eyes, leaning into Adam’s hand. The warmth of his touch melted the tension from his body, grounding him.

Safe? Lucifer wondered, feeling a flicker of doubt. Safe from what? Heaven?

But he stopped himself from asking, afraid of breaking whatever spell this was, of risking Adam pulling away from him. This moment felt like the very thing he’d been yearning for. Lucifer placed his clawed hand over Adam’s, holding it against his cheek as he gazed up at him from beneath long, dark lashes.

“We haven’t had much time together, have we?” he murmured, his voice low, almost apologetic. “I’ve been so caught up…in my duties.”

Adam blinked, clearly surprised by the admission, his expression shifting to one of bashful shyness.

“Well, no, we haven’t,” he replied, almost timidly. “But it’s okay…you’re the King of Hell and all. I understand.”

Lucifer swallowed hard, stepping closer to him, close enough that Adam’s pregnant belly pressed against him. A tiny, bittersweet realization hit him—even here, in this world, he still couldn’t quite match his counterpart.

Even their height was slightly different; he barely reached Adam’s should back in his world, but here, his other self reached Adam’s nose. Still, he closed the gap, his voice barely a whisper as he cupped Adam’s face, his claws tracing gentle circles on Adam’s cheeks.

“I know I haven’t been very present. But I’m going to change that. Hell won’t fall apart without me for a few hours.”

Adam’s gaze turned doubtful, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d heard such a promise. “Luci, you…you don’t have to say that just to make me happy. I know things are changing, and it’s important.”

His words had a practiced, almost automatic feel, as though he’d memorized them after hearing them too many times.

Lucifer’s stomach twisted. Had his other self made these promises before? The same empty reassurances Adam had quoted earlier in the kitchen? Did his other self regularly make promises he had no intention of keeping?

“Fuck that,” Lucifer said, his voice sharp with conviction. Adam’s eyes widened, a flicker of hope and wariness blending in his gaze.

“Fuck the changes. And fuck all that ‘it’s important’ crap. It can wait a few hours. No—scratch that. It can wait until tomorrow.”

Adam spluttered, his golden eyes lighting up with hope, though doubt shadowed them. Lucifer slipped his arms around him, pulling Adam close with a fierce smile.

“Actually, no, screw the whole week,” he declared, his voice firm. “I’m officially on vacation. I’m sure Hell will survive without me for a few days.”

Adam’s mouth dropped open, a mixture of surprise and joy crossing his face. “R-really? You’re not just saying that?”

In answer, Lucifer leaned up, ignoring the bump of Adam’s belly pressing into him, and kissed him softly, lingering there until the kiss deepened, as if it could make up for every broken promise.

“I’m not just saying it,” he whispered as he pulled away. “In fact, watch me.”

With a flair that felt more like his true self than ever, Lucifer flopped back into the plush chair, casting Adam a devilish grin as he snapped his fingers. Instantly, a golden screen shimmered into existence, who Lucifer assumed was his assistant appeared on the other side, wide-eyed and anxious.

“Sir!” his assistant blurted, sitting up straight. “You’re almost three minutes late! It would be unwise to keep Leviathan, the King of Envy, waiting!”

Lucifer’s curiosity prickled at the mention of Leviathan—a Sin who, in his own world, rarely bothered him. But before he could lean forward to ask about it, he caught Adam’s expression, the way his golden eyes dimmed as he took a small step back, already resigned to disappointment.

So this is how it was, Lucifer realized with a bitter pang. This other Lucifer really did make these empty promises.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Lucifer sat up and waved a hand dismissively. “I’m afraid not! Please clear my schedule for the entire week!”

“W-Wha-“

“I’m officially on vacation!” he announced brightly.

The assistant stammered, clearly taken aback, but Lucifer plowed on before they could interject. “I’ll be back next week. Reschedule all the important meetings and extend my regards to Leviathan and the rest. I’ll be unreachable—I’m sure you understand. My husband is heavily pregnant and needs my attention, and my dear daughter has invited us to her hotel for some well-deserved family time.”

The assistant gasped, visibly bristling. “Sir! You mustn’t cancel—”

“Thank you! Goodbye!” And with a final snap of his fingers, the screen vanished in a shimmering wisp.

Turning back to Adam, Lucifer grinned, pleased with himself.

“See? All done!” he declared, his eyes sparkling with pride.

Adam blinked at him, mouth opening and closing, clearly stunned. He stared at Lucifer as though seeing him for the first time, as if unable to believe this was real. Smiling, Lucifer rounded his desk, sliding his hands into Adam’s and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“There. I’m all yours again,” he murmured.

Adam stood there, utterly stunned, his golden eyes wide as he processed what had just happened. Lucifer couldn’t resist a soft, triumphant chuckle as he watched the expression on Adam’s face transform from shock to hesitant delight. A surge of warmth bloomed in his chest; it was painfully clear that Adam rarely received this kind of attention from the Lucifer he thought he knew.

And in this moment, if Lucifer knew anything, it was that Adam deserved every bit of it.

“You’re…really serious?” Adam whispered, his voice so low it seemed he feared any louder sound might shatter this moment.

Lucifer gave Adam’s hands a reassuring squeeze, pulling him closer, his usual devilish grin softened into something genuine.

“Absolutely,” he murmured, his tone carrying an earnestness that surprised even him. “I know I…I’ve probably made a hundred promises before. But this time, I mean it. You and Charlie… you’re my whole world this week.”

Adam let out a slow breath, his expression softening into something vulnerable and raw. Lucifer’s heart pounded, feeling something he couldn’t quite place. Without another word, Adam leaned forward, resting his head on Lucifer’s shoulder, and Lucifer’s arms wrapped around him instinctively, pulling him into an embrace so warm and steady that it felt almost too real.

They stood there in silence, Adam’s rounded belly pressing gently between them—a reminder of this life they could have shared, however miraculous and surreal it felt to Lucifer. He knew he should feel out of place, like an imposter in another man’s life, but in this rare instant, he felt strangely…at home.

“I’ve missed you,” Adam whispered, the words so soft they nearly vanished in the quiet. “More than I can say.”

The confession struck something deep within him. This other Lucifer had left Adam feeling fractured, alone even in their togetherness. Tilting Adam’s chin up, Lucifer met his gaze, trying to communicate with his eyes what he couldn’t explain with words.

“Well, get used to me,” he murmured, grinning in a way that he hoped was as comforting as it was teasing. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Adam’s cheeks flushed, his mouth curving into a tentative smile that Lucifer found almost too endearing. He leaned in and kissed him, savouring how Adam melted into him, as though the walls that had kept them apart were finally crumbling. In that moment, the weight of Hell, his duties, and the impossible situation he was navigating faded to the background. This was the only reality he wanted—one that, even if borrowed, he intended to treasure.

When they pulled apart, Adam’s hand remained entwined with his, giving a soft, almost reluctant squeeze.

 “So…what now?” Adam asked, a spark of excitement in his voice.

Lucifer’s smirk crept wider, amusement flickering in his eyes for two reasons. First, Adam looked positively adorable, his face lighting up with that innocent excitement Lucifer so rarely encountered. Second, he’d uncovered a weakness, a chink in the perfect armour of this other Lucifer—a slip in family obligations that he could easily exploit.

“How about we surprise Charlie with a visit?” he suggested, his tone velvety smooth, disguising the tiny thrill of mischief that was building. “I think our daughter would love a bit of family time.”

Adam’s eyes brightened, a spark of joy that made Lucifer’s heart stammer—a reaction he hadn’t anticipated. For a brief moment, the shadowed bitterness ebbed, replaced by a soft warmth. Here, Adam’s happiness felt… real, almost achingly genuine.

“She’ll be thrilled!” Adam laughed, the sound rich and bubbling, weaving between them like music.

“She’s been asking about you for so long.” He shook his head with a fond smile. “Charlie’s going to be so excited. She’s missed you terribly.”

"She… has?" Lucifer’s surprise was unmistakable.

In his own world, he and Charlie shared nothing close to such warmth; their relationship was strained, brittle—like glass, one wrong word away from shattering completely. She’d never reached out for him, much less longed for his company or well, that was before Lucifer came to her hotel and began to help her reach her dream. And yet here, in this strange universe, she wanted him around. She’d been asking for him, waiting for him.

Adam laughed again, a beautiful, unguarded sound. “Of course! She loves you silly. You’re her father. She’s been wanting you to come to her hotel for ages now, especially since she started working with the redeemed souls.”

The words hit Lucifer with a surprising force, his breath hitching slightly. This other Lucifer had something he didn’t—a daughter’s love and a husband’s unwavering support. But before he could sink too far into that unfamiliar ache, the old bitterness stirred in his chest.

“Oh, but I’ve been too busy,” he finished, biting back the irritation that threatened to curl his voice.

Too busy. It was exactly the sort of excuse that grated on his nerves, even though he had used it himself a thousand times before.

Adam nodded, looking sheepish, and squeezed his hands. “But it’s okay—Charlie understands! She knows you have to keep Hell in order. You’re doing the hard work.”

Adam’s faith, his quiet acceptance, only made the bitterness throb harder. Excuses.

His other self had managed to keep his family with half-hearted promises and sweet words. The unfairness of it sank in, twisting like a thorn in Lucifer’s chest. It would’ve been so easy for this other Lucifer to take a week—a single week—to be with them. Just as he would, if he had the chance.

Forcing himself to breathe, he swallowed the biting words on his tongue and pulled Adam closer, the tension in him slowly ebbing as he rested his forehead against Adam’s cheek.

“Well,” he murmured softly, his voice wrapping around Adam like a promise, “I’m going to change that. I’m not too busy anymore.”

He pulled back, meeting Adam’s gaze with a fierce determination that made Adam’s eyes widen, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I’m here,” Lucifer continued, his tone thick with conviction. “For you, for Charlie… for all of it.”

Adam’s face softened, his smile tender and filled with something Lucifer couldn’t quite name, a kind of love that felt almost foreign, almost painfully sweet.

“I know, love,” Adam whispered, leaning forward to press a warm kiss to his forehead. “And we’re here for you, too.”

The words settled around him like a blanket, unfamiliar but comforting, something he hadn’t realized he’d longed for. He could feel the power of this universe, of this life he’d stumbled into, settling over him, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt… at home.

“I can’t wait to see her.”

"Good," Adam murmured, tilting his face to meet Lucifer’s gaze. "It’s been so long since she’s seen you. You know how much she admires you, always telling everyone that her father’s the king of Hell yet has the biggest heart down there."

Lucifer’s chest tightened, struck by the weight of Adam's words. Admiration? In his world, Charlie rarely granted him anything close to admiration; disappointment was more the tune of their conversations. And yet here, this version of himself had managed to bridge that chasm. But beneath the sweetness lay a bitter bite. He was starting to despise this other Lucifer, the one who seemed to waltz effortlessly into a life of closeness and forgiveness while he, himself, had been shut out by his own daughter’s scorn.

Adam chuckled, a lovely blush blooming across his cheeks that made Lucifer’s heart race.

“Also,” he murmured, glancing down with a playful smirk, “I think you might have… given your assistant a few ideas about what we’ve been up to before you opened the channels.”

Lucifer blinked, furrowing his brows. “What do you mean?” he stammered, genuinely puzzled.

Adam’s eyes sparkled as he gestured down the length of Lucifer’s body, his blush deepening to an irresistible pink. “You’re… um, not exactly dressed for a formal meeting, my love.”

Lucifer’s gaze followed Adam’s, trailing down his own body until his eyes went wide. He was standing there, in full view of the channel, dressed in nothing but his ridiculous duck-themed boxers.

Heat flooded his face as he sputtered, “I forgot!”

But he quickly regained his confidence, flashing Adam a roguish grin. “Well, now they know just how much I adore my beautiful queen!”

Adam snorted, the blush never leaving his cheeks, his eyes warm with affection and just a hint of mischief.

“Oh, they know all right,” he laughed, squeezing Lucifer’s hands before gently tugging him toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get ready. If we want to surprise Charlie, we’ll need to leave within an hour. She was planning to come pick me up so I wouldn’t have to travel alone again.”

Lucifer’s brows creased as he followed, still gazing at Adam with an adoring smile before something curious crossed his mind. “Travel alone? Why don’t you just… open a portal?”

Adam gave him a quizzical look, chuckling as he leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Lucifer’s lips. “Very funny, Luci. I can’t use magic—you know that.”

Lucifer froze, his mind stuttering over Adam’s words. Adam couldn’t use magic? But in his own world, Lilith could wield dark magic easily after her fall. How could it be that Adam, his Adam, was different? Lucifer quickly masked his confusion, breathing a small sigh of relief when Adam turned away, unaware of his bewilderment.

The last thing Lucifer wanted was for Adam to discover the truth—that he wasn’t truly his Lucifer. This world had become so precious, so enticing, and Lucifer longed to keep his secret and continue living this enchanted life, to remain here with Adam, and even with Charlie. But his curiosity simmered beneath the surface. Why didn’t Adam have magic? And why were there these strange differences—the blue tones in the mansion instead of red, Adam’s striking blue horns, unlike Lilith’s blood-red ones? The blue glow seemed to calm him, like a gentle presence, so different from the harsh, fiery atmosphere of his own Hell.

Pushing the questions from his mind, Lucifer grinned and tightened his hold on Adam’s hand, swinging their joined hands playfully, earning another beautiful laugh from his husband. Adam’s laugh was light, rich, and filled with a joy that sent warmth coursing through Lucifer.

“You’re such a dork,” Adam teased, nudging Lucifer’s shoulder.

Lucifer nudged back with a smirk. “Yeah, but I’m your dork.”

Adam’s smile softened, and he gazed at Lucifer with such pure adoration that it made Lucifer’s chest ache.

 “That’s right,” he murmured, voice tender. “You’re my dork.”

Overcome with affection, Lucifer cupped Adam’s cheek, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips. Here, there were no servants bustling around, no formality—just the two of them in the quiet intimacy of this strange and wonderful world. In his own dimension, Lilith had insisted on servants to cater to her every whim, but here, with only Adam’s presence filling the mansion, Lucifer felt free. Free to be his truest, most ridiculous self, free to love without restraint.

And he intended to cherish every moment he could get away with in this paradise, so long as fate allowed him to stay.

By the time they reached their shared chambers, Adam was breathless, his cheeks flushed a delicious shade of red. Gently, he pushed Lucifer back, laughing shyly.

"We don’t have time for that, Luci,” he murmured, his lips swollen from the countless times Lucifer had pinned him to the walls along the way, stealing one kiss after another.

Lucifer pouted, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Aw, but Addie… just one more kiss?”

Adam bit his lip, fighting back a shy smile as he lifted a hand to cover his mouth, stopping Lucifer’s advance.

“As much as I’d love for us to continue… we really don’t have the time right now.” He glanced down, placing a gentle hand over his rounded belly. “And besides, the last time we got carried away like that, we ended up with this little gift…”

Lucifer’s pout transformed instantly into a broad grin as he gazed at Adam’s stomach, his heart swelling at the sight of his husband lovingly cradling their unborn child. He longed to peel away Adam’s oversized shirt, to run his hands over every curve, to marvel at his husband’s softness and beauty.

But Lucifer resisted, letting the moment linger as Adam shyly added, “Maybe later… tonight?”

“Yes! Yes!” Lucifer’s voice was an eager whisper, his heart practically leaping at the promise. Adam’s laugh was light and sweet as he reached up to playfully poke Lucifer’s forehead.

“Now go get changed,” Adam insisted, his voice taking on a soft but serious tone. “We don’t have much time. Charlie will be here soon to pick me up—she didn’t want me traveling alone again. Don’t we want to surprise her?”

Lucifer’s ruby and golden eyes sparkled. “Right… we’re going to surprise Charlie.”

Adam leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to his cheek, then gestured toward the wardrobe, carved with a pattern of ducks that somehow looked endearing, especially with Adam’s warm smile lighting up the room.

Lucifer watched, utterly smitten, as Adam disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. He recognized it as the door Adam had stepped out of this morning when he’d first woken up here, alone and dazed, half-convinced it was all a dream. Letting out a dreamy sigh, he turned toward the wardrobe’s grand, duck-carved doors and pulled them open.

His breath caught at the sight—a vast, shared walk-in closet that seemed to stretch endlessly. It was a wardrobe fit for two, filled with racks upon racks of clothes, shoes, belts, bags, and more, all laid out perfectly. Here, in this universe, Adam had embraced the idea of sharing a wardrobe with him, something Lilith had always rejected back in his own world. A flutter of warmth rose in Lucifer’s chest as he ran his hands over what must be Adam’s section of clothing. He noted the punk-inspired themes, softened by cozy textures—clothes meant to be both stylish and comfortable. It suited Adam perfectly, especially now that he was… pregnant.

The discovery only deepened as he found matching pajama sets in various animal designs, including, to his delight, a series of duck onesies in a bright golden color. There was even a punk-rock version, complete with faux leather accents and silver embellishments. Lucifer let out a soft whine, imagining Adam wearing one of those duck onesies. They must have dressed up and snuggled together often, he thought, a pang of jealousy tugging at him before he managed to shake it off. Carefully, he smoothed out the fabric, placing the onesie back in its spot before moving further into the wardrobe.

As he walked, he froze, his gaze catching on a row of dark suits. He furrowed his brows, realizing every single one was black.

“What’s wrong?” Adam’s voice floated over, and he waddled into the closet, looking brighter and more at ease after freshening up. Lucifer turned to him with a frown.

“They’re black,” he murmured, still baffled.

Adam blinked, tilting his head before carefully approaching and inspecting the suits, his fingers skimming over the fabric with a discerning touch.

“You mean your suits?” he asked curiously.

His face scrunching up as he dropped the sleeve of one in favour of a different fabric, letting out a contented sigh as he found a softer texture. Lucifer noticed how particular Adam seemed about the feel of certain fabrics. Was he sensitive to textures, or perhaps had a sensory sensitivity?

“Yeah,” Lucifer said, taking the suit Adam seemed to prefer and holding it up to his body. “But… where are my white suits?”

Adam squinted, tilting his head in thought. “You don’t wear white suits, Luci. Well, you used to, but you got rid of them after Charlie kept drawing on them when she was little.”

“You decided it looked… unprofessional.” Adam shrugged, reaching for something on a higher shelf as if the idea was of little consequence.

“Unprofessional?” Lucifer’s frown deepened as he looked up, spotting a familiar white top hat perched on the topmost shelf, far out of reach.

“But I liked that suit… it reminded me of Eden.” Adam hummed softly, turning back to him with a warm smile spreading across his face, “But I think black looks very nice on you.”

With a shy glance, he reached out and traced his fingers along the sleeve of the suit Lucifer held, seemingly absorbed in the texture.

“Then I’ll get more white suits… to remind you of Eden,” Lucifer said with a grin, winking as he watched a lovely blush spread across Adam’s cheeks.

Adam’s smile softened as he continued touching the fabric.

“Of course, Luci,” he whispered, looking almost lost in the moment.

Lucifer leaned in, feeling a swell of affection so strong it made his heart ache. In this strange, wonderful world, he could live without the formality and coldness that had defined his life back home. Here, he could revel in these soft, intimate moments, with no one to serve or judge, no one to spoil the simple beauty of his life with Adam and Charlie.

“Tonight,” he murmured again, letting his voice brush over Adam’s ear as he took his hand. “When Charlie’s gone, it’s just you and me, Addie.”

Adam nodded, his blush deepening, and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Then hurry up and get dressed… I’d hate to keep Charlie waiting.”

With a final look, Lucifer released Adam’s hand and turned back to the suit, his mind lingering on the upcoming night. As he dressed, he thought of how he would make the evening one to remember, savouring every precious moment.

Lucifer stood in front of a row of six full-length mirrors, his reflection shifting as he took in the details of this version of himself. This body was different—taller, with a leaner build, but subtly more muscular. He tugged at the black jacket, adjusting the fit over his shoulders, and twisted to inspect how the dark, sharp lines sat against his frame. It was strange, not seeing the usual white and red but instead a black suit trimmed with a rich blue—a ringmaster’s design, certainly, but one with an air of authority, almost refined.

The coat draped perfectly, the eight gleaming golden buttons giving a striking contrast to the deep fabric. Beneath it, a black and blue-striped waistcoat hugged his torso, the two gold buttons adding a hint of flair. The black pants, unlike the puffed ones he wore in his own dimension, were slender and fitted, disappearing neatly into knee-high, heeled boots that comfortably accommodated his hooves. Lucifer stretched one leg, marvelling at how the boots didn’t pinch—they fit as though crafted for his steps.

He caught sight of his bare hands and paused, noticing the thin band of gold circling his left ring finger. His wedding ring. He stared for a moment, feeling the smooth metal, almost surprised to see it there, glinting with a familiar warmth. His heart gave a little flutter, realizing this world’s Lucifer—his husband—had the same symbol of commitment.

“One more thing!” Adam’s voice chimed, sweet and warm, pulling him from his thoughts. Lucifer turned as Adam approached, holding up a black top hat and placing it gently onto his golden curls.

"There. Dashing," Adam murmured, smiling with a soft, admiring look.

Lucifer turned back to the mirror and studied his reflection; the hat was a near replica of the one he wore in his own world, except this one was a deep, elegant black, crowned with a golden apple and spiked accents that looked almost like a regal crest.

Adam chuckled softly, and Lucifer’s gaze dropped to see a small green snake coiled around Adam’s hand.

“And let’s not forget Basil.” Adam raised his hand, and the snake slithered gracefully up to wrap itself around the hat’s middle, settling like a living band around the brim.

Lucifer’s eyes went from the hat to Adam’s fingers, where his own gold wedding ring caught the light. He exhaled, feeling an unexpected wave of relief and a bright grin spread across his face.

"And you,” he murmured, leaning close, his voice dropping to a playful warmth, “You look lovely too.”

Adam gave a small snort, glancing down at himself with a shy shrug.

“I guess I look okay,” he said, tugging lightly at his outfit.

Unlike the overly ornate robes worn by the Adam in Lucifer’s original world, this attire was simple and comfortable. Black leggings and an oversized blue t-shirt layered under a soft, black cardigan. The shirt hung loose, subtly concealing his rounded belly. Lucifer could see how Adam’s clothes were chosen more for comfort than style, a quiet effort to shield and protect his growing form.

A soft pout tugged at Lucifer’s lips. He stepped forward, sliding his arms around Adam’s waist, drawing him close.

“I think you’re beautiful no matter what,” he whispered, letting his fingers rest gently over Adam’s hands.

Adam’s blush deepened, a smile flickering at the corners of his lips.

“Luci…” he murmured, the warmth in his voice almost shy, a quiet fondness slipping through. He looked up at Lucifer, his blue eyes bright with love and laughter.

They lingered there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, before Adam cleared his throat, his cheeks still pink.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a chuckle. “We really should get going. Charlie’s not known for her patience, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”

Lucifer laughed, nuzzling Adam’s cheek affectionately before pulling back.

"Fair enough. But tonight…" He lowered his voice, brushing his thumb gently over Adam’s chin. “Tonight, we celebrate properly.”

Adam’s eyes softened, his fingers lingering on Lucifer’s chest before he nodded, an almost dreamy smile on his face.

"Tonight,” he agreed quietly.

Lucifer pulled Adam closer, his arm sliding around Adam’s waist, feeling the warmth of his husband’s body against his own. His clawed hand came to rest gently on Adam’s round, pregnant stomach, the soft fabric of Adam’s clothes warm beneath his fingertips. He breathed in shakily, the familiar and comforting warmth of the growing life beneath Adam’s skin making his heart swell with a feeling he couldn’t quite describe—an overwhelming love that was both tender and protective.

His lips curled into a smile, filled with affection as he looked up at Adam, his eyes softening with an almost reverent gaze. Lucifer tilted his head to rest against Adam’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, and whispered in a voice that was all warmth.

“Are you ready?”

Adam’s smile bloomed even brighter, and his eyes sparkled with love.

“Yep,” he replied, his voice light but filled with a deep joy.

Lucifer’s heart fluttered as he leaned up, capturing Adam’s lips in a kiss—slow and sweet, leaving Adam breathless in the best possible way. As he pulled back, he held up his hand, twirling his clawed finger through the air, summoning a spark of golden light. A portal slowly unfurled before them, its shape an elegant oval, glowing with a soft radiance as it opened to reveal the familiar, yet somehow different, doors of the Hazbin Hotel.

Adam stepped forward, and Lucifer helped him through the glowing threshold, his hand gently at the small of Adam’s back. As they emerged on the other side, Lucifer paused, looking up at the looming structure before them. This version of the Hazbin Hotel was not quite like the one he remembered from his world. It felt like a blend of his past and present—a bridge between destruction and rebirth, but with one clear difference: the blueish hue that softened its edges, lending it an ethereal quality. The once towering red stone was now a mix of deep blue, twilight purple, and soft indigo, with hints of shimmering black that caught the light.

The grounds around the hotel were a far cry from the barren, desolate landscape Lucifer had known. Instead of the harsh, red stone and crumbling debris, there was a garden. A lush, vibrant oasis of life—flourishing trees with thick, green leaves that whispered with the wind, and flowers of every shape and colour imaginable. The blossoms were unlike anything Lucifer had seen before, hues of violet, midnight blue, and soft lavender mingling together with delicate black petals. Strange, yet breathtakingly beautiful plants sprawled in every corner, their colours reflecting the night sky as if they belonged to some otherworldly realm.

Lucifer’s gaze lingered on the vibrant life growing around them, feeling something in his chest tighten with awe. The garden, so full of life, seemed so out of place in Hell, yet it thrived with an elegance that almost felt like it had been pulled from Eden itself. The soft glow of blue and purple plants bathed the area in a gentle light, like starlight captured in the form of petals and leaves. There were small pools of water that reflected the moonlit sky, their surfaces rippling gently with the breeze. The air was fragrant with the sweet scent of jasmine and lavender, and though the garden had its darker, more macabre elements—black thorns twisted up from the earth like tendrils, dark vines curling along the stone walls, and carnivorous flowers with jaws sharp enough to bite—there was a serenity to it all. The contrast of life and death, beauty and danger, only made it more captivating.

Lucifer’s mind began to race with questions. This garden—was it Adam’s influence? He couldn’t help but wonder, was Charlie also a gardener, or did she simply love this place because it reminded her of Adam? Had they tended to this garden together, perhaps in her childhood? He looked around, the beauty of it all almost overwhelming. It was a sanctuary amidst Hell’s chaos, as though the garden had been meticulously cultivated to embody peace and stillness in the face of the ever-present turmoil.

There were flowers that twinkled faintly, like little stars scattered across the bushes, while others bloomed with colours that shifted, as though they were constantly in motion. Some of the trees had dark trunks, almost black, but their leaves were a deep, lush green that shimmered in the soft light, casting shadows that played with the shifting colours of the garden.

Lucifer’s eyes were drawn to the centre of the garden, where a large tree stood—a twisted, gnarled thing with silver branches that seemed to stretch toward the heavens. From the tree hung long vines of tiny, glowing fruit, their lights pulsing like little stars—so different from the fiery, unforgiving landscape he had grown accustomed to in his world.

“This…” Lucifer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “This is like Eden, but…”

He trailed off, unsure of the word to capture what he was feeling.

Adam’s eyes glimmered, his lips curling into a soft smile as he looked around at the garden.

"You would have seen it earlier if you pulled yourself away from your work," Adam teased, his voice light and melodic, a soft hum in his chest as his golden eyes shone with pride.

He looked around the garden, eyes glowing with a love that radiated through every inch of the space. "Charlie and I worked hard on it. She's so amazing."

Lucifer puffed out his cheeks at Adam's words, trying to suppress the frustration bubbling up inside him. Why hadn’t his other self come to see this garden? Why hadn’t he made time for Charlie, for the world she was building here? It gnawed at him, the bitter ache of missed opportunities. He would give anything to have witnessed this, to see this beautiful space that Charlie had poured herself into, to feel this warmth, this peace. If only his Charlie had been able to create something like this, to nurture it with such love and care.

"I love it here," Adam continued, his voice gentle and thoughtful. "Charlie and I would spend so much time together here."

He closed his eyes, basking in the serenity of the garden before glancing at Lucifer. "It feels peaceful, doesn’t it?"

Lucifer nodded, forcing himself to breathe deeply, to calm the storm of emotions that raged within him. This was everything he had wanted. Everything he had dreamed of. His heart beat faster in his chest, the sensation of belonging overwhelming him. This place—this garden—felt like it was made just for him and Adam, a sanctuary born from their shared love. It was as if the garden itself was a manifestation of their connection.

He turned to Adam, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and affection.

“It’s beautiful,” Lucifer said quietly, his voice filled with tenderness. “Just like you.”

Adam blushed, the smile on his face widening as he reached out, taking Lucifer’s hand. Lucifer’s own heart swelled, and he added softly, “I know. I’ve missed a lot... but I promise to make it up to you and Charlie. I won’t miss anything else.”

Adam’s gaze softened, his golden eyes full of warmth as he squeezed Lucifer’s hand in return. “I love you.”

Lucifer returned the smile, the words flowing from his lips with a sincerity that he couldn’t hold back. “I love you too.”

They both turned toward the Hazbin Hotel’s grand doors, Adam stepping forward, ready to knock when, to Lucifer’s surprise, the door swung open before he had the chance.

Lucifer froze, his heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t breathe for a moment as he saw her—Charlie, their daughter—standing in the doorway. This world’s version of her, and yet, she was still so familiar. Her eyes glowed warmly, her lips forming a bright, loving grin that was a perfect reflection of Adam’s.

"Mum! You’re here?" Charlie’s voice was filled with excitement, her expression a mixture of joy and disbelief. "I was going to pick you up!"

Adam let out a sheepish laugh, his cheeks colouring as he scratched the back of his neck. "I know, but we thought we’d surprise you, so... surprise!"

Charlie’s eyes flickered between Adam and Lucifer, her smile faltering for a brief moment as she glanced at her father.

“Dad?!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with shock. “You’re here too? But I thought you had too much work to do?”

Her gaze softened almost immediately, a hint of confusion and curiosity in her eyes as she took in the sight of Lucifer standing there.

Lucifer stood frozen, the weight of the moment settling in. His heart was pounding in his chest as he looked at Charlie—his daughter, this world’s version of her. She was so much like Adam, and yet... so uniquely her own person. The recognition in her eyes, the warmth of her grin, it all hit him like a wave. He could feel a lump in his throat, the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He had been absent for so long, for too long, and now—now here he was, finally seeing her.

“Surprised?” Lucifer’s voice was thick, but he fought to keep the emotion from his tone.

He stepped forward, his hand still holding Adam’s, but his gaze focused entirely on Charlie now. His heart was still racing, but in a different way. The bond between father and daughter, though new and strange, felt instant and powerful.

Charlie’s eyes softened as she stepped forward, reaching out to Adam first with an affectionate hug, then turning to her father, her gaze still filled with wonder and warmth.

"I didn’t expect you to come here. I thought... well, I thought you'd be too busy with your work," she said, her voice quiet now as she stood before him.

Lucifer, still processing the sight of his daughter standing there, felt something shift inside him. The rawness of the moment was almost too much. His lips parted as he tried to find the right words.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, his voice low but filled with honesty. “I’ve been... preoccupied with other things, but that’s no excuse.”

He took a step forward, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder, an instinctual act of closeness. "I’m here now. I won’t miss any more of these moments. I promise."

Charlie blinked, her eyes glistening as she looked up at him, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"You’re here now, and that’s all that matters." Her voice was soft, full of understanding. "I’m glad you’re here, Dad."

The words hit Lucifer like a wave, and he nodded, his heart swelling with a bittersweet mix of relief and joy. He stood taller, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. Adam, standing beside him, smiled as he gazed at the two of them, his heart swelling with pride.

Charlie gracefully stepped back, a radiant smile lighting up her face as she gestured for both Lucifer and Adam to enter.

"I'm so excited for you two to be here!" she said brightly, her voice warm and welcoming. The way she spoke, the energy in her tone, was so familiar, yet there was something undeniably different about her.

Lucifer trailed behind Adam, his eyes quietly studying Charlie as she hooked her arm with Adam's without hesitation. He couldn’t help but notice how she held herself, her aura confident and poised. There was a calm authority in her presence, but also a softness, a gentleness, that made her her. And yet, the longer he watched her, the more he realized that Charlie—his daughter—wasn't exactly the same as the one he had known.

Charlie, much like everything else in this dimension, was different. She was familiar, but yet unfamiliar. She was still Charlie—his Charlie—but not exactly his Charlie. The subtle differences were apparent the moment he took in her appearance.

She still had the same tall, slim build, her pale white skin the signature of a hellborn demon. Her hair, now a soft hazelnut hue, cascaded to her ankles in smooth waves, with thin streaks of light coral blending into paler brown highlights. It was tied in a low ponytail with two black bands, the strands framing her face in soft curls, and her bangs flipped to the left side with a gentle curve. Lucifer couldn't help but notice how her eyes—those yellow sclera with their crimson red pupils—held a certain calmness that was both endearing and powerful. The thick lashes and purple eyelids were familiar, yet her overall expression was more serene, less volatile than the Charlie he remembered.

The most startling detail came when Lucifer noticed the black animal-like nose she shared with Adam. A strange sense of déjà vu washed over him. Did Adam’s nose come from here? he wondered, studying Charlie’s features. Her blue-toed hooves, the fangs that peeked from her mouth, the pointed black nails—these were still her traits, of course. But there was an air about her now that felt different. Less chaotic, more controlled.

And then, there was what she wore. Unlike the Charlie he knew from his world, this Charlie's clothing reflected her new sense of authority, a professional edge that matched the maturity Lucifer had seen in the garden. Like him, she wore a black tuxedo-style jacket with dark blue lapels, the jacket unbuttoned in a laid-back yet still polished way.

On the left side of her chest, a small white tag caught the light, perhaps a mark of distinction, or just an aesthetic touch. Underneath, a blue waistcoat added depth to the outfit, paired with a crisp white dress shirt. She didn’t wear the small, cute bowtie he remembered, but rather a sleek, black tie that complemented the overall professional vibe. Her dress pants were black, with a thin blue stripe running up the sides, making the outfit even more striking.

Lucifer noticed the blue cuffs at the sleeves of her blazer, the elegant and understated details that elevated her look. And on her feet were white saddle shoes, the toes and heel tips black, a blend of practicality and style that still somehow managed to look refined.

Charlie was adorable, undeniably beautiful, and her appearance exuded a subtle air of authority. She had clearly grown into herself in this dimension, a far cry from the more innocent, chaotic version he had known. The change was striking, but not in a way that made her unrecognizable. It made her seem more... complete. And Lucifer found himself wondering if this Charlie, this version of his daughter, was different in ways that went beyond her appearance.

He glanced at Adam, who had a proud smile on his face as he walked beside Charlie. The warmth in Adam’s eyes as he looked at her was a silent affirmation that this was their reality. Their life together in this dimension.

"Wow," Lucifer muttered, mostly to himself, his voice soft but filled with awe. "Charlie, you’ve done amazing things here."

Charlie turned back to him with a radiant grin.

"Thank you, Dad," she said, her voice laced with affection. "It means so much that you’re here now."

Lucifer's heart swelled at the sound of her words. Dad. That one simple word carried so much weight, so much unspoken emotion. And yet, in this dimension, he felt like he could finally begin to understand the bond he had with her—this other version of Charlie, and the new dynamic that came with it.

He stepped forward, his eyes scanning the surroundings one more time, before he reached out, gently taking Charlie's arm in a gesture of solidarity, of acknowledgment.

"This place... it feels like home," Lucifer murmured softly, looking at Adam and then back to Charlie. "And I’m proud of you, both of you."

Charlie smiled warmly at him, her expression filled with a mixture of gratitude and love. “I’m just happy you’re here, Dad.”

As they moved further into the hotel, the atmosphere felt different than it had in Lucifer’s own dimension. The walls were warm and inviting, bathed in soft, golden lighting. Everything felt purposeful, yet cozy.

Charlie had built this place with love, and it radiated in the air. Lucifer could feel it in every corner, in the very atmosphere of the hotel. The gardens outside, the thoughtful decor inside—it was all a reflection of the life Adam and Charlie had created here.

And for the first time in a long time, Lucifer felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. Not just in this dimension, but with them—his family. And as they walked deeper into the hotel, together, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the past slip away, replaced by something far more powerful. Love.

Charlie beamed with excitement as she led them through the hotel, her energy barely contained despite the professional edge she maintained.

"I’m so glad you're here, both of you! Welcome to my home." Her tone was warm, yet there was a confidence to her voice that spoke of pride and purpose.

Lucifer couldn't help but notice the stark difference in this version of the Hazbin Hotel. It didn’t have the chaotic, disjointed feel of the one in his own dimension. This place, every room and hallway, had been thoughtfully curated. There was no mishmash of clashing styles, no broken elements haphazardly thrown together. Every inch of the hotel exuded an air of professionalism, yet there was an undeniable charm—a mysterious, cozy allure that made it feel inviting.

As they walked through the expansive lobby, Lucifer’s eyes were drawn to the rich blues and purples that washed the space. The walls, though adorned with intricate patterns, were sleek and polished. The floor was a soft, plush carpet in deep violet, and the polished beams above gave the room an open, airy feeling. Everywhere he looked, there was a sense of refinement—nothing felt out of place.

The lounge area was especially striking, the colour scheme of the room not just sophisticated but soothing. Soft blue lighting emanated from lanterns that floated lazily in the air, their gentle glow reflecting off the smooth surfaces around them. The furniture was modern yet comfortable, plush seating in varying shades of blue and purple, arranged in intimate clusters. And though it had the atmosphere of a well-designed space, it wasn’t sterile or cold. It was the kind of place one could relax in and feel at home, even in Hell.

Charlie led them further through the hotel, pausing here and there to speak about the different rooms they passed. Lucifer noticed the subtle contrast in each area—some had elegant glass floors that shimmered as they walked, others had warm wooden panels that gave the space a grounded, natural feel. There was an elevator, sleek and shiny, with silver accents, its design futuristic yet fitting for the mysterious hotel they were walking through.

"Each room is carefully crafted to give a different experience," Charlie explained, her professional tone almost as though she were giving a tour to an important guest.

"Nothing is by accident. Every detail matters." She waved her hand around the lobby as if it were an extension of herself. "I wanted it to feel like a home, but one that had purpose."

Lucifer smiled and nodded, thoroughly impressed. “It’s beautiful, Charlie. Truly. You’ve outdone yourself.”

As they moved through the halls, Lucifer couldn't help but glance around at everything with admiration. Unlike the chaotic atmosphere of his own Hazbin Hotel, this one felt complete. There was no unfinished business, no rushed repairs. This was a space meant to be lived in, built with care and attention to detail.

They passed a room that caught Lucifer's attention—a bar, but one that was more sophisticated than the lounge's former setup. This bar had its own dedicated space, separate from the main area, and it seemed to belong there in a way that made the old bar look almost makeshift.

“Here’s the bar,” Charlie continued, ushering them inside. “It has its own space now, so it’s less disruptive. It’s a bit more... refined.”

Her smile was almost mischievous. “You’ll have to try it later.”

Lucifer, taking it all in, gave her a genuine smile. “I think I’d enjoy that.”

It was strange to feel this way about the hotel. He remembered the first time he’d seen his own version of the Hazbin Hotel—the moment he had tried to tear it down in front of Charlie. This place, however, felt different. It felt right. And it made him realize just how much his other self had neglected to appreciate.

As they wandered deeper into the hotel, Charlie suddenly stopped and turned to them.

 "Oh! Before we go any further, I want you to meet someone," she said, her tone suddenly more cheerful than professional.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. Just then, a figure emerged from one of the rooms—another familiar face, but not one he had expected to see. A woman, her wings folded behind her, eyes glowing with a calm, yet intense light. She had striking greyish-lavender skin, her features sharp, yet undeniably graceful.

"Dad, this is Vaggie," Charlie said, her voice full of pride. "My girlfriend."

For a split second, Lucifer nearly blurted out that he already knew Vaggie, that she had been introduced to him before. But then it hit him—this was the first time he was meeting her. This was the first time he or his other self had stepped foot into this version of the Hazbin Hotel, and everything—everyone—was different.

Vaggie stood before them, a striking figure who, though familiar, exuded an aura of both elegance and strength. Her greyish-lavender skin shimmered slightly in the ambient light, a subtle moth-themed design tracing the outline of her features. Her knee-length hair cascaded down in soft waves of greyish-white, the faded purple tips gently curling as they met the air. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail with a blue ribbon, the strands flowing smoothly, save for the long-jagged bangs that framed the left side of her face, hiding part of her features in an almost mysterious way.

Lucifer's gaze naturally fell to her eyes, noting the contrast between the two. Her right eye had a soft pink sclera with a warm ivory iris, shimmering with a calm intensity, while her left eye was hidden beneath a slate-gray eyepatch, marked with a red-pink “X” shape that gave her an air of quiet mystery. The small fangs visible when she spoke only added to the fierce beauty that radiated from her, her black lips adding a touch of sharpness to her otherwise delicate features.

Her clothing was another detail that set this version of Vaggie apart. She wore a pale blue short-sleeved blouse that hugged her slim frame, a stark contrast to the deep blacks of her wardrobe. Over this, she wore a black waistcoat, cinched just enough to accentuate her slender figure, the edges of the waistcoat cut precisely. A delicate black ribbon, tied into a bow, sat at the back of her neck, adding a soft femininity to her otherwise sharp appearance.

Her lower half was adorned in a black miniskirt, paired with light criss-crossing black and blue tights, and she wore a set of fingerless opera gloves that were a perfect match for the colour scheme—light blue, matching the subtle undertones in her outfit. She moved with a fluid grace, the design of her clothing blending both professionalism and a sense of personal style, making her look every bit the powerful figure she was.

Lucifer’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, the realization dawning that this version of Vaggie, like everything else in this dimension, was both familiar and new. The Vaggie he knew had always been strong, but this one seemed more at ease, more confident in herself, her presence commanding respect while still maintaining that same soft edge that made her undeniably approachable. The changes in her appearance and attire hinted at a life that had evolved—one that had brought her to a place of balance and power.

Vaggie’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, soft yet respectful.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” she said, bowing her head slightly, her posture formal yet not stiff.

Lucifer, surprised by the respect she was showing him, cleared his throat. Her formality, unlike the more casual tone he was used to from his world’s Vaggie, left him feeling both honoured and unsure of how to respond.

Lucifer froze for a moment, unsure of how to react. The respect she showed him felt... foreign, but not unpleasant. It was clear that in this dimension, the dynamics were different. The Vaggie from his world had never treated him with the kind of reverence she showed him now, and it left him feeling oddly flustered.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to seem too awkward.

"It’s nice to meet you, Maggie," he said automatically, before he could stop himself.

At the sound of his slip, all three of them spoke at once, correcting him.

"It’s Vaggie," they said in unison, a mix of bemusement and mild amusement in their voices.

Lucifer blinked, slightly flustered. "Oh... right, sorry about that, um, Vaggie," he said sheepishly, looking around at the others.

Vaggie smiled, though there was a slight flush to her cheeks as she shook her head. “It’s okay, sir.”

Lucifer, still not entirely sure of what to make of the situation, leaned forward, offering a gentle smile. “You don’t need to be so formal around me. Please, relax.”

Vaggie looked surprised by his words, her eyes flickering with a brief moment of doubt.

“R-Really?” she asked hesitantly.

Lucifer gave her a reassuring nod, smiling warmly. “Yes, of course. We’re practically family now.”

His words were genuine, and as he said them, he realized that this dimension felt like a place where he could finally relax, where he could find his place among the people who mattered most to him.

Charlie smiled shyly at her girlfriend, clearly pleased by Lucifer’s words. Vaggie hesitated for a moment, but then she let out a small, relieved laugh, her shoulders relaxing.

“Okay, sir—um, Lucifer,” she said, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you."

Charlie’s eyes flickered nervously toward Adam, her gaze pleading for reassurance, while Vaggie quietly inched closer to her, sensing the tension in the air. Adam inhaled deeply, his breath steady and composed, before he nodded in silent understanding. He took a step forward, his voice low and soothing, like a melody meant to calm the storm inside Lucifer’s soul.

"Luci," Adam began, the name almost like a caress, gentle but laden with unspoken weight. "There's one more thing... you should know."

Lucifer’s brow furrowed, his senses sharpening as he caught the subtle tension in the room. He tilted his head, curious, yet guarded, the shift in atmosphere not lost on him. He flicked his gaze over the group, noting the strange expressions, the silent communication between Charlie and Vaggie.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice dripping with both suspicion and anticipation.

Charlie and Vaggie exchanged a look—an unreadable one—before Charlie turned back to Adam, her expression a fragile blend of hope and worry. Adam smiled softly, his fingers gently brushing against Lucifer's hand.

Lucifer stiffened at the contact, his gaze snapping to Adam in confusion, but Adam didn’t break eye contact.

"About Vaggie," he began, his voice turning serious, his words deliberate. "There’s just one more thing you need to know. And you have to promise me, Luci, you won’t... freak out. Don’t get all dramatic, or start trying to pull some ‘authority’ nonsense like you usually do."

"Drama?" Lucifer arched a brow in mock surprise. "Authority? Me?"

His lips curled into a playful smirk, though the flicker of curiosity in his eyes betrayed his amusement. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Adam’s gaze never wavered. "Promise me."

Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes before he nodded. "Alright, alright. Whatever it is, I won’t see any of you differently."

But a flicker of unease crossed his face, his gaze shifting toward Vaggie, who remained unreadable, her eyes dark with unspoken thoughts.

"Is it about Vaggie being a fallen angel?" he asked nonchalantly, though a trace of knowing lingered in his voice.

Charlie gasped, her eyes wide in shock. "You—how do you know that?"

Her voice cracked slightly, as though the very mention of it was a secret she’d thought buried long ago.

Lucifer blinked, realization striking him like a bolt of lightning. He hadn't meant to reveal so much, so easily. But then again, he'd always had an uncanny ability to see through the veils others wore. He smiled, a lazy, knowing grin spreading across his face.

"It’s not rocket science," he said with a shrug. "I mean, I’ve always been able to spot another angel. Or rather, a fallen angel."

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "I’m a Seraphim—one of the highest-ranking angels there are. I can pinpoint another angel, halo or no halo, wings or no wings."

Charlie exhaled sharply, as though the breath had been held for far too long. She leaned heavily into Vaggie, who, despite her usual stoic demeanour, looked visibly shaken by the revelation.

Lucifer’s smile softened, a glimmer of affection for his daughter, and he added with a playful wink, "But hey, I don’t care if you’re a fallen angel, Vaggie. As long as my daughter’s happy, that’s all that matters to me."

Charlie’s face lit up with relief, the tension easing from her shoulders. It was as though the weight of the world had lifted off her chest. The fear she’d carried was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Lucifer’s gaze drifted, suddenly thoughtful. He didn’t quite understand the dynamic between Adam, Charlie, and Vaggie, but something tugged at the corners of his mind. Was the other version of him—the original Lucifer—so cold-hearted that he would disapprove of such things? Perhaps it was his prejudice against fallen angels that had kept him distant, or maybe there was more to the story. He shifted his attention back to Vaggie, his curiosity piqued.

"I also know you were... or maybe still are, an exorcist," Lucifer said, his finger lightly pointing at the faint X mark near Vaggie’s eye, a mark that carried the history of bloodshed and exorcisms. "Judging by the symbol on your face, I’d say I’m right."

Vaggie stiffened, her breath catching in her throat.

"And... you’re... okay with that?" she asked, her voice small, almost uncertain.

Lucifer’s shrug was nonchalant, but his eyes were warm with understanding. "Sure, I’m fine with it. I mean, Charlie’s forgiven you, so I’m not going to hold it against you. You were doing what you thought was right at the time. Who am I to judge?"

The relief that washed over Vaggie was palpable. She let out a long, deep breath, as though something had broken loose inside her chest. Her posture relaxed, and she bowed her head in silent gratitude, though her eyes still held traces of vulnerability.

Lucifer glanced over at Adam, seeking some sort of confirmation, a silent approval. Adam’s gaze met his with an expression so full of love and warmth that Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat. There was a soft affection in Adam’s eyes, a tenderness that Lucifer couldn’t help but return.

The world around them seemed to fade for a moment. For once, Lucifer felt... seen. Not as the devil or a fallen angel, but as someone who was wanted, cherished, and understood.

Adam’s lips curved into a smile, full of affection, and Lucifer’s own lips followed suit, the two of them locked in a moment of unspoken connection. The air between them buzzed with something more, something deeper than simple affection—a bond that only they understood.

Despite the sudden sense of calm that had settled over Charlie and Vaggie, Lucifer couldn’t shake the feeling that something still hung heavily in the air. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there—an undercurrent of tension that clung to the room like a shroud. They were both standing straighter than usual, their movements deliberate, cautious even.

Charlie, usually so warm and open, seemed almost unnaturally poised, her fingers fiddling with the edges of her coat. Vaggie, normally fierce and unapologetic, kept her distance, her posture rigid, her eyes darting as though expecting something to happen at any moment. It was as if they were walking on eggshells, careful not to disturb the fragile balance that had settled between them.

Lucifer’s brow furrowed, and he cast a quick, uneasy glance at Adam, searching for some sign that he wasn’t the only one sensing the oddness in the air. Adam smiled at him, that same soft, reassuring smile that always made Lucifer’s chest tighten. But even as Adam’s expression seemed filled with warmth, Lucifer couldn’t shake the nagging sense of discomfort that lingered at the edges of his thoughts.

It was like he had stumbled into someone else’s life—a life that didn’t quite fit. Was it because of him? Or was it because of the other Lucifer? The one who had ruled this place with an iron fist, the one whose presence seemed to overshadow everything in the room, even now. He knew, without a doubt, that the Lucifer of this universe was far different from the one he had once been. The king of Hell—the devil—had been more domineering, more authoritative. This version, however, was... different. Gentler, softer in a way that almost unsettled him.

"Um..." Lucifer started, his voice suddenly awkward, uncertain. He glanced over at Adam again, his gaze asking silently if he, too, could feel the strange distance that had fallen between them. Adam simply gave him a warm smile, though there was a flicker of something else—an emotion Lucifer couldn’t quite place.

Before he could ask any more questions, as if the universe itself had decided to throw a wrench into the awkwardness of the moment, a shadow slid across the far wall, its movement liquid, serpentine. Lucifer's gaze snapped to it instantly, and he braced himself. The air shifted, charged with a dark energy. The ground beneath them seemed to hum with an unsettling force as the shadow grew, curling around the edges of the room before it solidified into a form. And there, standing in front of them, was Alastor.

The Radio Demon.

Lucifer’s stomach sank as the familiar figure appeared. Alastor’s wide grin split his face in a grotesque way, his red eyes glowing with a malevolent gleam. His presence was unmistakable—sharp, unsettling, and somehow mocking.

"Ah, you must be the one I've heard so much about," Alastor said with a voice that sounded like it had been pulled from a thousand static broadcasts, smooth and cold. "Finally decided to grace us with your presence, hm?"

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and despite the unsettling familiarity of Alastor’s voice, he stood tall, uncrossing his arms just long enough to give a pointed look at the radio demon.

"And who might you be?" Lucifer asked, his tone smooth but laced with a cold amusement. He crossed his arms once more, offering Alastor a tight-lipped grin and showing just enough of his sharp teeth to let the demon know he wasn’t intimidated.

Alastor’s eyes gleamed with territorial malice. There was a possessiveness in the air, a strange, almost desperate need for dominance over the hotel that radiated off him. Lucifer picked up on it instantly, though he would never show it. This was his domain now, not some other version of him self’s.

With an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Lucifer smirked. "Well, it seems that my arrival has been long-awaited. What is it? Some kind of bellhop?"

Charlie’s laugh was awkward, a little too high-pitched. Her discomfort was palpable, but she tried, gently, to diffuse the situation.

"Alastor, please be nice," she murmured quietly, though her voice quivered slightly.

"Haha!" Alastor let out a harsh, mocking laugh, his grin spreading even further as if he were enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

 "Not quite! I am the esteemed host of this fine establishment. Perhaps you’ve heard of me through my radio broadcasts?" He leaned forward slightly, his smugness clear.

Lucifer’s response was immediate and cutting. He couldn’t resist the urge to taunt.

"Oh, that explains why Charlie named it the 'Hazbin Hotel,' doesn’t it?" Lucifer quipped, giving a sharp, biting laugh. "Ha-ha!"

Alastor’s expression faltered for the briefest of moments before it returned to that ever-present, mocking grin. His stance shifted, his glowing eyes narrowing as he leaned casually against his radio staff, his fingers tapping rhythmically.

"Fuck you," he spat with venom, his voice dripping with disdain.

Charlie flinched at the exchange, looking between the two of them in sheer panic.

"Mummmmm, please,” she whined, her hands shaking as she pulled at her coat nervously. Charlie glanced towards Adam, “They’re gonna destroy my hotel!"

 Vaggie, ever the protector, stepped forward and rubbed her back gently, trying to soothe her in the face of the growing hostility.

Adam, ever the optimist, tried to reassure her with a sheepish smile. "No, they won’t—"

Before he could finish, a loud explosion interrupted his words. The wall to the left of them shuddered violently as a massive hole tore through it, the debris falling like confetti around them. The sound of the blast echoed through the room, the force of it shaking the very foundation of the hotel.

Lucifer blinked, holding up his claws defensively.

"I didn’t do it!" he called out quickly, his voice tinged with mock innocence. "It was... what did you say your name was again? Bami?"

He tilted his head with a teasing smile, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

Alastor’s face scrunched up in outrage at the name, his eyes narrowing into slits. He looked ready to pounce, his grin faltering for the briefest moment.

Charlie, meanwhile, stood frozen, her expression one of absolute horror, her body trembling as she looked desperately at Adam, as if seeking a solution to the escalating chaos.

"Please, someone stop this," she pleaded.

But Lucifer couldn’t help but smile. Whatever strange tension had plagued him earlier, whatever sense of unease had clung to the air—he could feel it lifting. If only for a moment, he was ready to embrace this new world, this new challenge.

Adam was still reeling from the explosion in the wall, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to process the tension in the room. His hands were shaking slightly, and his mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening between Lucifer and Alastor. He had never seen his husband act so territorial, so... possessive.

He had always known Lucifer to be authoritative, yes. But this? This was something different. Adam had never seen his partner act like this—furious, defensive, and so willing to go to war over something as seemingly trivial as an interaction with another demon. Then again, Lucifer had always been confined to his office, buried in his duties, ruling Hell with cold detachment. Maybe he’d never had a reason to show this side of himself. Maybe he had always been like this, and Adam had simply never seen it.

It made Adam’s chest tighten, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but admire how fiercely Lucifer was acting. He stepped forward, hoping to de-escalate the situation before it became something far worse than it already was.

"Um, Lucifer, Alastor, I think that’s—" Adam started, but his voice was immediately drowned out by Alastor, who was already stepping forward, a mischievous glint in his glowing red eyes.

“Well, well, well,” Alastor purred smoothly, his voice like honey dripping from his tongue, “Adam. It’s such a pleasure to see you again.”

His eyes glittered as he eyed Adam, and before Lucifer could react, Alastor smoothly glided toward him, his movements so graceful, it was almost like a dance. Adam found himself momentarily caught off guard by the way Alastor's charm oozed from every word and gesture.

“How are you, my dear? How is the little one? I trust you’ve been taking care of yourself?” Alastor continued, his words soft, almost flirty.

He leaned in just enough to be close, his gaze searching Adam's face as if he could read his every thought. “You look tired, darling. Surely Lucifer hasn't been working you to the bone? Surely, you haven't been on your feet all day?”

Adam was flustered, unsure how to respond. The gentle warmth in Alastor's voice was completely different from the way he normally spoke to him. Alastor was never rude, mean or cold towards him, but he was never…like this. It was unsettling.

“Oh, I—uh, I’m fine,” Adam stammered, his face flushing as he stepped back a little, caught in the radio demon's spell. "Lucifer, I—"

But before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off by Alastor’s cool, calculated gaze. The demon casually sent a glance toward Lucifer, his eyes gleaming with challenge.

“Tell me, Adam," Alastor continued, his voice silky as ever, "Has your beloved husband been taking care of you properly? I do hope he's been looking after your health, dear. It wouldn't do for you to be too worn out, after all."

Alastor's eyes flicked back to Lucifer, the unspoken taunt hanging heavily in the air.

Adam’s face flushed a deeper shade of red, unsure of how to respond. His eyes darted nervously to Lucifer, who was standing stone-still, but the tension was strong.

Lucifer's eyes widened, his pupils dilating as his gaze locked on Alastor’s every movement. He felt a sudden surge of something that made his stomach churn—not jealousy... maybe it was more like outrage. He didn’t even realize when he moved—only that in the next instant, he was wedging himself between Adam and Alastor, his body pressed forward in a clear, protective gesture.

“No, no, no, you don’t do that,” Lucifer hissed, his voice strained and sharp as he glared up at Alastor, his chest puffed out with indignation. “You don’t touch my Adam! And not that it is any of your business, I always take care of my Adam!”

Alastor’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. There it was—the crack he’d been waiting for. His lips curled into a wider, even more taunting grin.

“Oh? Is that so?” Alastor’s voice was rich with mocking amusement.

He stepped forward again, easily sidestepping Lucifer, his shoulder bumping Lucifer’s chest as though the fallen angel were nothing more than a slight inconvenience. Alastor closed the distance between himself and Adam once more, completely undeterred, his hand reaching out as though to gently touch Adam’s arm.

Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat, the vein in his neck pulsing with frustration and fury. He could feel his own irritation bubbling to the surface. The more Alastor pushed him aside, the more his chest tightened in some deep, primal way.

“Oi! I said don’t touch him!” he growled, “Don’t talk to him so personally either!”

Charlie and Vaggie stood by the sidelines, watching with wide eyes. Vaggie looked at Charlie, her gaze full of confusion as she leaned in closer to her.

“I thought you said your dad was pretty cold and... cares too much about his image?” she whispered, her tone soft and unsure. “Like…married to his job first, then your Mum and then you?”

Charlie awkwardly scratched the back of her neck, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. “Um, he is—or was, or... I don't really know. I’ve never seen him act like this before.”

Vaggie raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the scene unfolding in front of her. “Well, he’s certainly not holding back now.”

Meanwhile, Lucifer’s chest heaved with each angry breath, his body trembling as Alastor’s fingers brushed Adam’s shoulder. Every movement of the radio demon’s was like a calculated strike at his pride, and Lucifer’s jealousy burned hot and fierce. It was strange—unfamiliar. He had never felt this intense need to claim someone before, let alone in front of others. He was a king, a ruler of Hell... wasn’t he supposed to be above such things?

But Alastor's smirk, that gleaming, dangerous look in his eyes... it was a provocation, and Lucifer could feel the bite of it in every part of him. He clenched his fists at his sides, his wings twitching in agitation, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Not yet.

Alastor had found his weakness. And Lucifer wasn’t sure if he hated it... or if he wanted to fight back. It was the same thing Alastor did back in his dimension with Charlie! Being another father figure for Charlie just to mock him!

Vaggie gasped, her eyes darting toward Adam, then nudging Charlie with urgency.

"Charlie," she whispered in alarm, "I think your mum's getting overwhelmed!"

Charlie whipped her head around to look at Adam, who was now shuffling his feet, visibly caught between the escalating tension of his husband and Alastor. The two demons continued to exchange mocking, pointed remarks, and Adam’s patience finally wore thin. Swallowing deeply, he placed a gentle but firm hand on Alastor’s chest, trying to ease him back.

“Um, that’s enough,” Adam said, his voice steady but weary. “Alastor, you've never shown that much interest in me before. You’re just doing this to mess with Lucifer, aren’t you?”

Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction at Adam’s insight, a feeling of vindication washing over him. Finally! Somebody else saw Alastor’s shameless attempts at baiting him.

But Alastor’s face twisted into a theatrically pained expression, placing a hand on his chest as though wounded.

“Mess with Lucifer?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “Why, Adam, you wound me! My interest in you is sincere. Your charm is as radiant as the sun—any demon worth his salt would see that.”

His voice softened, gaze meeting Adam’s in a way that bordered on tenderness. “After all, Hell’s a cold place. It could use a touch of warmth.”

Lucifer’s expression shifted, his face twisting with irritation. He’d had enough of Alastor’s sweet-talking. Stepping forward, he jabbed a finger toward the radio demon, his eyes narrowing with anger.

“Back off, Alastor. Adam doesn’t need any of your slimy charm,” he growled, his tone dark and dangerous.

“Oh?” Alastor replied, his voice dripping with faux innocence as he met Lucifer’s fury with an amused glint.

“Is that... jealousy I hear? From the oh-so-calm and collected Lucifer Morningstar?” He smirked, clearly revelling in the way he was getting under Lucifer’s skin.

Adam, exasperated, stepped between the two, his face flushed with frustration. “Can’t we just—”

But he stopped short as a sharp, sudden pain shot through him. His face twisted in discomfort, and his hand instinctively flew to his stomach as he stumbled back, grimacing.

Charlie gasped and immediately rushed to his side, her eyes wide with concern.

“Mum, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

Vaggie moved to help, wrapping an arm around Adam and gently guiding him over to one of the plush, blue leather sofas.

“You really should rest, Mum,” Vaggie said softly, her hand a steadying presence on Adam’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t be overworking yourself like this.”

Adam managed a weak smile, trying to reassure them. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired, that’s all.”

But he winced as another pain rippled through him, sharper this time, and he clenched his jaw to stifle a groan.

Charlie’s worry deepened. “Mum, are you in pain? What’s wrong?”

Adam let out a small chuckle, though his voice was strained. “It’s just... Braxton Hicks…”

“Fake contractions. They happen when…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced away, his cheeks colouring.

“When?” Vaggie prompted gently.

Adam sighed, looking sheepish. “When I’m stressed or overwhelmed.”

Charlie’s face hardened, her expression sharpening as her eyes darted to the scene unfolding behind her. Another loud crash sounded as Lucifer and Alastor clashed once more, their voices raised and their power radiating dangerously through the air. Keekee, their little demon pet, scrambled up the sofa to sit beside Adam, nudging him protectively.

Straightening herself, Charlie took a deep breath, feeling a new surge of authority bubble within her. She squared her shoulders, her demonic ruby and golden eyes flashing as they started to bleed into a deep red. Her hair began to slip free of its ribbons and swirled around her face like snakes, horns sprouting from the top of her head as she turned on her heels to face the two unruly demons.

“That’s enough!” she roared, her voice echoing through the hotel lobby like a thunderclap.

Her face was fierce, a new, formidable power radiating from her as she stomped toward the two demons. She grabbed Alastor’s tie, yanking him down to her level, and then tugged Lucifer’s collar, pulling him upward.

“Listen up, you two,” Charlie snarled, her voice dark and dripping with authority. “You are not fighting in my fucking hotel!”

Her grip tightened, and she yanked them both closer, her fiery eyes narrowing with dangerous intensity. “And I want that hole in my wall fixed—right fucking now! Do you understand me?”

Both Alastor and Lucifer nodded quickly, unable to form words as they stared at her with a mixture of surprise and begrudging respect. Charlie’s sharp teeth gleamed as she bared them in warning.

“And I swear to Satan,” she continued, her voice a low, dangerous growl, “If I catch you two having another pissing contest, I will personally cut off your dick and balls!”

Lucifer straightened himself as Charlie released him, smoothing his slick black suit and adjusting his tie, casting a dry look in Alastor’s direction. Alastor mirrored him, straightening his own attire with a sardonic grin as though they hadn’t just been thoroughly scolded by Hell’s princess.

Then, a shadowy tendril slipped up from the ground beside Alastor, creeping over to the wall to begin repairing the hole. Lucifer watched with amusement as Alastor’s magic inched over the crack, dark energy spilling and swirling as the wall slowly started to mend. Lucifer waited until Alastor’s magic spread across the damage, then raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Golden light washed over the wall, instantly erasing the crack as if it had never been there.

Alastor shot Lucifer a scathing look, his form dissolving momentarily into shadow before reappearing a few steps away. Lucifer smirked, basking in his small victory.

As he turned, his gaze landed on Charlie, who stood with arms crossed, glaring at the two of them. A faint flush crept up Lucifer’s cheeks. Seeing Charlie take charge with such authority—she truly was the princess of Hell. She had grown so much; her confidence radiated from her in a way that made him proud. She was still the same Charlie, his Charlie, yet stronger.

But then, his gaze drifted to Adam, seated on the couch nearby with Vaggie crouched beside him. Adam rubbed his stomach, a bit flushed as he tried to reassure Vaggie. Instantly, Lucifer’s face paled, and he teleported in a blink of golden light to Adam’s side, grabbing his hands.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Lucifer’s words tumbled out, concern and fear flashing in his eyes. "Do you need to lie down? Anything you need, I’ll make it happen."

Adam gave a small, sheepish smile. "I’m fine, really. Just… fake contractions."

He paused, glancing at Vaggie and Charlie, who were watching him closely. Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a hush, meant only for Lucifer. "It’s not like the first time… honestly.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. He didn’t fully understand what that meant, but he nodded, his voice dropping to match Adam’s. "Okay, okay... as long as you’re alright. You’re not still in pain, right?"

Adam squeezed Lucifer’s hand. "No, no, it’s passed. They come and go. I’ve been having them for the past month now."

He gave a wry smile, one that hinted at something he hadn’t shared before.

Lucifer’s breath hitched, his gaze hardening with quiet anger. Had Adam been keeping this from him? Had the other Lucifer been so closed off that Adam didn’t feel comfortable telling him about something as important as this?

The thought darkened his expression. “You should have told me, Addie. I wish you’d told me.”

Adam shrugged helplessly, a faint guilt in his eyes. "You were busy, that’s all. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

A pang hit Lucifer, but he softened his tone, reaching up to brush a hand against Adam’s cheek. “I’m never too busy for you.”

His voice was laced with sincerity, and Adam flushed, clearly taken aback. From behind, they heard two soft “Aww”s, and both Lucifer and Adam turned to see Charlie and Vaggie watching, grinning at the display of affection.

Adam cleared his throat, breaking the moment with a bashful smile. "I… think I might need to lie down now. Today has been a bit too… fun for me.”

Charlie stepped forward, her face lighting up with excitement. “Do you want to go to your room, Mum? Niffty’s been keeping it spotless.”

She took his other hand, her smile warm and full of affection.

Adam leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

Lucifer puffed out his chest, straightening himself again as though preparing for duty.

“I’ll go with you,” he announced, ready to accompany him and keep an eye on him.

Adam shook his head, giving him a patient smile. “No, you should stay and spend some time with Charlie. You two haven’t had any father-daughter time in so long.”

He gave Lucifer’s hand a final squeeze, and Lucifer hesitated, glancing over at Charlie, who was suddenly looking bashfully off to the side, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. Vaggie offered an encouraging smile in Charlie’s direction.

Lucifer’s desire to stay with Adam nearly overwhelmed him, but seeing the hopeful expression on Charlie’s face, he softened. Of course, he wanted to spend time with her. Breathing out a resigned sigh, he nodded, eyes warm.

“Alright. But if anything happens—if you even feel a slight discomfort—you’ll let me know, okay?”

Adam beamed up at him, squeezing his hand once more. “Of course. I promise.”

With one last lingering glance, Lucifer finally pulled away, watching as Adam allowed himself to be guided toward the stairs by Vaggie. Then he turned to Charlie, his gaze settling on her with a softer, prouder look.

“So… what do you want to do, Princess?” he asked, offering his arm to her.

Charlie’s eyes sparkled, and she took his arm eagerly.

"Well, I think we have a very overdue talk to be had,” she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And maybe we can keep the pissing contests to a minimum this time?”

Lucifer chuckled, pulling her close. “For you, Charlie, I’ll do my best.”

Lucifer walked beside Charlie, making a concerted effort to ask about her life in small, thoughtful ways, slipping questions into their conversation that gave him glimpses of this version of his daughter’s world. Her responses were heartfelt and animated, and as he listened, he found himself both charmed and unsettled. This version of himself… was less engaged, distant. He kept learning small things that he should’ve known—a favourite haunt, an idea she’d shared with him once, years ago. And yet, Charlie didn’t seem to notice his inquiries. She was simply thrilled to be by his side, and it made his chest ache with pride and regret.

They soon reached a quiet hallway lined with twenty magnificent, golden-framed oil paintings, each with astonishing detail and care. Lucifer stopped, his eyes widening as he took them in. Each portrait depicted a sinner, but instead of twisted cruelty or anguish, there was a strange serenity, a quiet pride on their faces. The glow in the portraits was almost holy.

Charlie watched him anxiously, her hands clasped nervously. “These… these are my redeemed souls.”

He snapped his head around to look at her, shock plain on his face. “You really did it?” His voice was barely a whisper. “You redeemed them?”

Charlie hesitated, then nodded slowly, her expression shy. “I did. I know you wanted me to give up on it… but I couldn’t.”

Lucifer’s voice caught in his throat. He had discouraged her from this dream? He had… pushed her away from it? In his own world, he had harboured doubts about redemption as well, too scarred from his own failures to try it again. But here—here, Charlie had persevered. She had done the impossible.

Charlie’s soft voice continued, her gaze far away. “I know… you didn’t approve. You said they belonged here, that sinners had earned this place, that they should pay for their crimes. But I thought… I thought that if someone truly wanted to change, if they believed in themselves enough to make better choices, then they deserved the chance to try.”

She twisted her hands, struggling to articulate what had driven her through the years. “Redemption isn’t about forgetting their crimes. It’s about healing. It’s about accepting what they’ve done… and learning to build a better path.”

Lucifer felt a warmth and admiration fill him. He stared at his daughter, wanting to hear more, to understand what she had built without him. “How… how did you do it?”

Charlie smiled softly, though there was a weight in her expression. “It took me a long time to figure it out. At first, I thought it was about showing kindness, building trust, using little gestures and encouragements. But that wasn’t enough. You can’t save anyone with just kindness and smiles.”

She shook her head, sighing. “Redemption—real redemption—wasn’t about glossing over their sins. I learned that it required the sinner to confront the very things that got them here, the sins that had ensnared their souls in Hell.”

Her voice lowered, almost reverent. “Every sinner in Hell has a victim in Heaven. I struggled with that for so long… couldn’t understand why some souls seemed incapable of redemption. Then I realized they had to seek forgiveness, not just from others, but from themselves. They needed to accept their pain and what they’d done before they could truly move on.”

Lucifer continued to stare at her, awe-struck. This was her approach, her labour of love, poured into each soul who chose to change. He finally managed to ask, voice low and uncertain, “And what… what happens to them? When they’re redeemed?”

Charlie gazed up at the portraits with a bittersweet smile. “They go to Heaven, but…”

She paused, glancing at him. “I couldn’t send them to live with those who never fell. It wasn’t fair to their victims to make them live side by side. There was… a lot of tension about it, and I didn’t want anyone to suffer. So, I worked with Emily—she’s one of the angels—and we decided… to create a new place.”

Lucifer’s jaw dropped. “You… created a new ring?”

Charlie flushed, glancing down. “I… I don’t really know how I did it, Dad. It just happened. I met a woman—she was one of Sir Pentious’ victims. She was… so hurt, so angry. I realized I couldn’t send redeemed souls to Heaven and expect their victims to be okay with it. Something in me… changed. I don’t know how to explain it, but suddenly… the new ring was there. It was for them—for the redeemed. Mum helped me set it up.”

Lucifer’s mind spun as he looked back to the paintings, his heart thrumming with awe and pride. She had done it. She had found a way to bridge the gap that no one thought could be crossed.

“Charlie…” he began, his voice thick, squeezing her hand gently. “I am so proud of you.”

Charlie froze, eyes wide and trembling. “Y-you… you are?” Her voice was tiny, almost as if she was afraid, she had imagined his words.

Lucifer nodded, his own smile faltering with emotion. “I’m so proud of you, Charlie.”

“What you’ve done… it’s incredible. I thought it was impossible, but you’ve done it. All of this…” he gestured to the paintings, “It’s amazing.”

Charlie’s lip trembled, tears welling in her eyes. “I kept asking you to come and see… to see what I was doing. But you kept saying you couldn’t. That you were too busy with Hell.”

Her voice cracked, and she quickly turned her head to wipe at her eyes. “Even after the first redeemed soul, you didn’t come…”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Charlie melted into his embrace, clinging to him as tears trickled down her cheeks. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be proud of me, Dad.”

He held her even tighter, his own eyes misting with pride and regret. “I am, Charlie. More than you know.”

Lucifer chuckled, folding his arms and watching Charlie with a gentle smile, but inside he felt a tug—a reminder of all the moments this version of himself had missed. As if to heighten that feeling, Vaggie returned, her face warm and blushing, her usually flowing white and purple hair now braided neatly down her back.

Charlie’s face lit up immediately. “Aww!”

She pouted playfully, her eyes wide. “Mum braided your hair?”

Vaggie’s cheeks flushed a little deeper as she self-consciously touched the braid, fingers grazing the neat weave.

“Is it bad?” she asked softly.

Charlie shook her head, her expression full of admiration. “Of course not! You look beautiful.”

Vaggie smiled shyly, gratitude in her eyes. But Charlie’s pout grew, her shoulders drooping as she sighed. “I wish Mum would braid my hair…”

Lucifer perked up, puffing out his chest with pride. “I can braid your hair for you, Charlie!”

Charlie snorted, patting his shoulder in mock sympathy. “Dad, last time you tried to do my hair, I had knots for a month straight. Mum was soooooo pissed.”

Vaggie chuckled, a knowing grin on her face. Lucifer felt a pang in his chest, his playful confidence slipping for a moment.

“Your mother… he does a lot, doesn’t he?” He looked away, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips as he imagined how much Adam must have taken on, all while his counterpart focused solely on ruling Hell. It left a bitterness in him—this version of Adam had managed so much, carrying their family and all their dreams.

Charlie picked up on the slight dip in his mood. She stepped forward, a comforting hand on his arm. “You know, you could go see Mum now. I know he’d love to see you too, Dad.”

Lucifer looked at her, his eyes reflecting a hesitancy and reluctance to let this bonding moment with her go. “Are you sure, Charlie? I’m more than happy to spend more time with you.”

Charlie’s face softened with a warm, reassuring smile. “Dad, just seeing you here… hearing you say that you’re proud of me and what I’m doing… it means everything.”

She gave his hand a squeeze, her eyes earnest. “Mum missed you so much too. I think he needs to hear this from you just as much as I did.”

Lucifer hesitated for a beat, his mind filling with Adam’s face, his familiar voice, the light in his eyes when he smiled. He reached out to Charlie, pulling her into another tight hug.

“You don’t know how proud I am of you, my little star,” he murmured.

Charlie smiled, hugging him back tightly, and then pulled away, giving him a gentle nudge toward the door.

“Go on, Dad. I’ll be here when tomorrow. Besides, Mum might have more hair-braiding in store for me if I’m really lucky.” She winked, and Vaggie chuckled, giving Charlie’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

Lucifer took a deep breath, his heart full, and headed down the hall, his mind full of gratitude and determination. Today, he would tell Adam everything he had meant to say all along.

When Lucifer finally found his way to Adam’s room—a journey that had taken far longer than he’d admit, only to remember he could have simply conjured a portal—he hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle. Soft singing seeped through the walls, a familiar hum that wrapped around him like a spell, tugging his heart toward the melody’s warmth. Cautiously, Lucifer pushed the door open, his breath catching as he stepped inside.

Adam lay reclined on the bed, his head nestled against the pillows, a warm water bottle hugged to his chest and his feet propped up comfortably. His golden eyes were half-lidded, distant and peaceful, as he sang softly. In the dim glow, his cerulean horns shimmered as though filled with galaxies, each starburst of light a soft pulse in rhythm with his voice. Lucifer’s heart stumbled in his chest, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him, a strange, bittersweet ache spreading through him. This was what he’d dreamed of this was what he’d wanted—a family, a life beyond his realm’s shadows.

Entranced, he barely noticed himself shifting forward, trying to take silent steps across the room to avoid disturbing Adam. But his hoof met the edge of a cabinet, sending him stumbling forward with a resounding thud. Lucifer winced as he hit the wall, groaning as he rubbed his face, his blush blooming with embarrassment.

Adam’s voice cut off mid-song, and he whipped his head around, eyes wide with alarm before relaxing into soft amusement as he took in the sight of Lucifer kneeling sheepishly on the floor.

"Are you okay?" Adam asked, a smile tugging at his lips as he took in Lucifer's flushed face.

Lucifer scrambled to his hooves, trying to brush it off with his best nonchalant grin.

"Oh, perfectly fine! Didn’t hurt a bit," he lied, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Please, continue—I was enjoying the song.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, but he couldn’t hide the slight tremble of laughter as he took in the red line running straight down Lucifer’s face. He chuckled, patting the bed beside him. "Come here, you klutz. How did things go with Charlie?"

Lucifer removed his top hat, setting it carefully on the side table. As he ran a hand through his sleek blond hair, ruffling it until it was charmingly tousled, he took a seat beside Adam, sinking into the mattress. His smile softened, brightening his face.

“It went really well,” he said, voice rich with a happiness he hadn’t felt in ages. He told Adam everything—how Charlie’s spirit, her vision, had grown beyond anything he’d dared hope. “I’m so proud of her! She’s accomplished something I thought impossible… she’s giving sinners a second chance.”

Adam listened closely, laughing at Lucifer’s enthusiastic gushes and nodding with understanding. His eyes sparkled, reflecting every word, full of love for the father and daughter before him. Lucifer felt an urge building inside him—a tender, timid question he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask. Swallowing, he reached a hand toward Adam, gesturing delicately to the baby bump.

Adam glanced down, his eyes softening, then met Lucifer’s gaze with a gentle smile. With a nod, he took Lucifer’s hand and placed it over the warmth of his belly. Lucifer let out a breath, feeling the radiating heat through the fabric, feeling the life beneath his palm. With reverence, he stroked his hand across the curve, his fingers tracing gentle patterns over the hidden little heartbeat within.

As he caressed the bump, he recounted Charlie’s accomplishments—the new ring she’d created, her work with redeemed souls, her unbreakable commitment to helping others find peace. He shared, voice quivering with pride, how she was blossoming into a remarkable young woman.

"She’s giving others what I couldn’t,” he said softly, “A chance to become something more, something good.”

He leaned closer, pressing his cheek to Adam’s belly, letting the warmth seep into him, grounding him in this moment.

Adam’s hand drifted to his hair, fingers carding through the unruly strands. Lucifer nuzzled into the touch, his heart brimming with gratitude and wonder as he murmured, “And she’s found love, Adam. Vaggie is wonderful to her. She has a real family.”

He closed his eyes, pressing his face closer to Adam, feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. This was more than he’d ever allowed himself to wish for, a vision of what Hell could be transformed into, softened by compassion and lit by hope.

Adam’s fingers brushed soothingly over his scalp, and his voice was a low, reassuring hum. “And she has you too, you know… her family isn’t complete without you. You make it all possible, Lucifer. Just by being here.”

Lucifer tilted his head up, catching Adam’s gaze, and a silent, fragile understanding passed between them, filling the room with a quiet peace. Adam smiled, a glow of happiness warming his cheeks as he traced a hand along Lucifer’s jaw, cupping his face gently.

“Stay here with me, will you?” Adam asked, his voice soft, an invitation as much as a plea.

Lucifer’s hand covered Adam’s, his thumb stroking tenderly over his knuckles.

"As long as you'll have me," he murmured, his voice full of all the promises he’d never been able to make before, echoing into the quiet, a vow whispered only for them.

Adam’s eyes softened, though a shy smile tugged at his lips as he whispered, “You sure you don’t have to go back to work… tonight? Or tomorrow?”

There was a hopeful, almost timid lilt to his voice, as if he were afraid of the answer.

Lucifer’s frown deepened, and he leaned closer, his hand braced against the mattress, effectively caging Adam beneath him.

“No, I’m on vacation, Adam. For the whole damn week. You remember?” His voice was low, unwavering, and fiercely tender.

Adam flushed, his cheeks warming as he dropped his gaze. “I… I know,” he murmured. “I just… I just wanted to be sure.”

He looked away, biting his lip. “I didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night and find you gone... working in the office again.”

Lucifer’s jaw tightened, his lips curving into a soft, determined pout as he absorbed Adam’s quiet confession. The thought of Adam waking up alone, of his other self-abandoning their warm bed to chase work—even in the dead of night—left him with a bitter taste.

How could anyone choose work over this? Over him? He shook his head, cupping Adam’s cheek, letting his thumb trail over the flushed skin.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly, his voice rough with promise.

Leaning down, he captured Adam’s lips in a deep, unhurried kiss, sealing his words with the warmth of his mouth. When he pulled back just enough to murmur, he spoke against Adam’s lips, his voice a low whisper. “I’m here tonight, all night. All week. I’m yours. And when I go back, no more late-night work, no more leaving you alone in the dark.”

Adam’s face softened, his breaths growing shallow as Lucifer pressed small, teasing kisses along his mouth, each word laced with a kiss until Adam was breathless and flushed, his golden eyes dazed and glowing. Lucifer leaned back, a mischievous grin dancing across his lips, pride flashing in his gaze. Slowly, he loosened his tie, pulling it free in a single, deliberate movement, then began to unbutton his vest with measured grace.

“How about I show you,” he said softly, his fingers tracing a line down Adam’s side, letting his claws graze over the soft fabric, “Exactly how much I intend to make up for all those nights I wasn’t here?”

Adam’s breath hitched, a fresh blush spreading across his cheeks. Lucifer’s gaze held his, bright and unwavering, as he leaned in, bringing their lips together once more. But this time, his kiss was deeper, fuller, a promise of nights without interruption and mornings filled with soft, secret light.

Adam's eyes widened, and a nervous laugh slipped past his lips as he tilted his head against the plush pillows, his cheeks flushed.

“You’ve been acting so strangely today,” he murmured, his fingertips tracing gentle circles along Lucifer’s cheekbones. His voice was soft and curious, laced with affection.

Lucifer’s heart thudded as he met Adam’s gaze, feeling an electric warmth coil through him.

“I’ve been acting different?” he asked, feeling a slight tremor under Adam’s touch.

Adam nodded, pulling him down into a tender kiss. “Not in a bad way,” he whispered, his lips brushing softly against Lucifer’s, “It’s just… like another person, somehow. You’ve been so sweet and attentive, like I’m the only thing on your mind.”

Adam’s words were punctuated by soft pecks, each one making Lucifer’s stomach flip.

“Another person?” Lucifer’s heart skipped.

Was he that different from the Lucifer Adam knew? He didn’t care—not when he had this chance, not when Adam looked at him like this. He would savour every moment, every glance and touch. He’d take full advantage of this incredible second chance, no matter how fleeting it might be.

“Well then,” Lucifer murmured, his voice soft but laced with a playful edge as he traced his fingers along Adam’s arm, “I hope you’re liking my ‘new self,’ because I have no intention of going anywhere.”

He pulled his tie free with a slow, teasing smile, letting the fabric slide between his fingers before slipping it around Adam’s wrists, gently binding them together.

Adam’s eyes flicked to the tie, a spark of surprise lighting his expression.

“Um, Luci?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Lucifer grinned, showing the glint of his sharp teeth, his eyes glimmering with a heat that made Adam’s cheeks flush a deeper red.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low purr. “I’m just making sure you have all my attention tonight. Wouldn’t want you slipping away before I’ve had the chance to show you exactly what I’ve been planning.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his blush deepening as he swallowed, wide-eyed. But he could see the affection in Lucifer’s gaze, the way he looked at him like he was the only one in the world.

“Oh,” Adam smiled, sliding his bound wrists over Lucifer’s head and pulling him down. “Then, I hope you can live up to those words~”

The grin of Lucifer’s face swiftly became crueller and sharper like.

“Remember, you asked for it~”

The night had stretched on, vivid and electric, far beyond anything Lucifer could have anticipated. It pulsed with life, with something rich and raw that felt forbidden and precious all at once. Adam’s voice—those gasps and breathy whimpers—still clung to the edges of his mind, each sound branding itself into Lucifer’s memory. His hands had traveled across Adam’s body like a map, ensuring that every curve and edge would stay with him, every touch imprinted as much on himself as on Adam. The intensity of it, the sheer rightness, was undeniable.

As they finally curled together in the dim glow of the room, Lucifer felt a warmth he hadn’t known he could crave. Eyes closed, he let himself drift, Adam’s heartbeat a steady rhythm against him. Just a moment, he thought. Just a second, to savor this stillness.

But then—a shiver. Lucifer’s eyes snapped open, and the warmth was gone. He was standing alone, enveloped in a void as silent and consuming as the grave. Darkness surrounded him like smoke, thick and impenetrable. He looked around, heart pounding as he searched the shadows, calling out, "Adam?"

The silence was absolute.

“Adam?” His voice was sharper this time, laced with urgency. But the only answer was an unsettling stillness, one that made the air feel thin and the darkness suffocating.

Then, as if awakening from a trance, Lucifer looked down, realizing he was dressed in his usual red-and-white circus suit, his jacket missing, his bare chest catching the cold, empty air. Dread slithered into his veins, coiling around his bones. He swallowed, his eyes widening as he whispered, "No… no, I don't want to go back.”

“I don’t want to leave this—leave them. I want to stay. I want to stay with Adam. With Charlie. I want—"

The air itself seemed to respond, a cold voice slicing through the void.

“I want my life back.”

A chill crawled up Lucifer’s spine. He spun around, his eyes locking onto a figure that seemed to melt out of the darkness—a figure that looked just like him, but… different. Taller, cloaked in an obsidian-black suit that shimmered like an oil-slick, streaked with deep blues. This was no mere echo. This was him, yet not him, a Lucifer who wore a face twisted by something sharp and bitter.

It was his other self. It was the other worlds Lucifer.

Lucifer’s breath caught. "You…"

The word slipped out as he stared at the apparition. The other Lucifer crossed his arms, his frown cutting sharp lines across his face, eyes narrowed in cold accusation.

"This is my life. My world. You can’t just walk in and take over it."

Lucifer clenched his fists, a fiery heat rising in him. "And why not? You hardly deserve it."

The other Lucifer’s expression shifted, his cool composure cracking to reveal something raw, a jagged edge of emotion. "And you think you do? You think you have a right to steal my life?"

A bitter laugh escaped Lucifer, his anger stoking the embers of his voice. "You’ve been neglecting Adam. You don’t see him. You hardly spend time with him. And Charlie? You ignore her as if she’s a nuisance, a distraction from your precious work!"

The other Lucifer’s eyes flashed dangerously, a faint smirk twisting his lips. "Work? Oh, I’ve been working. You have no idea the burdens I carry, the weight I bear for all of us. But tell me—what makes you think you’re any better? You only wanted Adam because he made you feel again, didn’t you? You were desperate for anything that would break your cursed monotony."

“That’s not true!” Lucifer snarled, feeling something deep and sharp dig into his chest. "I didn’t want to feel. I wanted him. I chose him, long before you ever thought to."

The other Lucifer stepped closer, eyes darkening and let out a sharp, cruel mocking laugh. "Then why did you abandon him in Eden? Why did you pick Lilith? Tell me, if you care so much, why I was the one who chose him, who went to Hell for him!"

Lucifer opened his mouth to retort, but the words stalled. Shame clawed at his throat, bitter and sour. He had left. He had been afraid, unwilling to bear the weight of his choices.

A cruel satisfaction flickered in the other Lucifer's eyes as he watched the effect of his words. “You see? You wanted the dream, but not the cost. And now you come back, playing the saint, claiming my life—my pain, my sacrifices—as your own."

“I don’t want your pain,” Lucifer hissed, his voice low and trembling. “But you’re right. I made the wrong choice. I should have picked him from the beginning, I was distracted by pretty things and empty words. I was afraid. But I’m not that man anymore.”

He stepped closer, his gaze fierce. "I have learned, grown. I can be the partner Adam deserves; the father Charlie needs."

The other Lucifer sneered, bitterness twisting his features. "Spare me your redemption speech. You’ve been playing at change, but in the end, you’re still just a shadow. You’ll break, just as you did before."

Lucifer’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper, his eyes narrowing. “Maybe. But I would rather break for them a thousand times than leave them to a man who cannot see what he has until it's gone.”

The void pulsed, a crackling tension building between them, each holding his ground. The darkness quivered as if it couldn’t contain their fury.

The other Lucifer’s voice crackled through the darkness, laced with fury, contempt—and an undercurrent of bitter sorrow that clung like the smoke of an old fire, too stubborn to be extinguished.

"I’ve seen it all. Every choice you made in your own world. Every twisted game you played in Eden." He spat the words, each one landing like a curse. "You toyed with Adam’s feelings, teased him with glimpses of love only to crush him in ways that would make Hell’s own demons cringe. And don’t think I forgot what you did after that—how you pushed him toward Lilith, only to steal her out from under him. You destroyed them both, and for what? For your own satisfaction? To feel like you had control?"

Lucifer staggered, each accusation striking him like a physical blow. His knees trembled, but he held his ground, feeling a chill seep into his bones.

"And let’s not forget," the other Lucifer continued, his voice a low, venomous hiss, “You were the one who gave Eve the apple, weren’t you? And then—you had the audacity to indulge in your own little threesome with Lilith and Eve the very night humanity fell. How could you ever think you’d make a good partner? A husband? A lover worthy of anyone, let alone my Adam?”

Lucifer felt his throat tighten, shame wrapping itself around his voice, strangling any attempt at protest. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He could only listen, trapped by the weight of his own past, his mistakes reflected at him with a cold, merciless clarity.

The other Lucifer laughed, a harsh sound that echoed through the darkness. “And the bullying afterward—wasn’t it enough to break Adam’s spirit, to rob him of every chance at love, but no, you kept going. Every council meeting with Heaven, every gathering where he had no choice but to face you, you twisted the knife. You flaunted your affairs and mocked him for Lilith, for Eve, for everything he lost because of you.”

He paused, eyes glinting with hatred. “And what did Adam do? Nothing. He fucking sat there and took it, and you never cared.”

Lucifer’s vision blurred as the memories resurfaced, a parade of sins he had long buried but never truly faced.

"And now you want to fucking lecture me?” The other Lucifer’s voice dropped, his face darkening, shadows seeming to twist around him as his anger took form. "Let’s talk about the Exterminations. In your world, both you and Charlie act like they are bad and unneeded, but they are needed.”

“Sinners are here for a reason. They’re not innocent; they’re the very worst of humanity, killers, deceivers, the ones who take and destroy without remorse. Charlie—my Charlie—she’s made strides, yes, but you and I both know that some souls are too twisted to save. And yet, you let her mock Adam, berate Adam for doing what he must. You know what those souls are capable of if they manage to escape. And yet, you still stand in the way, telling yourself you’re somehow better.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Lucifer choked out; his voice raw. "But we both know not all souls are beyond redemption. They need a chance.”

“A chance?” The other Lucifer’s eyes darkened, his mouth twisting in a bitter sneer. "What they need is to be kept from returning to Earth, from reaching Heaven and leaving destruction in their wake. I may have lost my way, but I did what I had to. I protected my Adam, even when he hated me for it. And you? You let your daughter turn her friends against him, against me, knowing full well what would happen if the worst souls were unleashed.”

The other Lucifer’s voice cut through the darkness, each word sharp as a blade, every syllable drenched in a fury that had simmered for centuries.

“You think souls deserve redemption? Let me make this clear—they don’t,” he spat, his words like venom. “Maybe a select few, those rare ones, yes—Charlie’s managed to save them. But even she doesn’t fully understand, can’t possibly see the way those souls are still tainted, still bruised, unable to truly let go of the sins they carried in life.”

His voice dropped, a low, menacing murmur. “Our world had an Extermination, too. When Charlie found out, she pushed back, fought me tooth and nail to change things. So, fine—things are different now, but it’s still happening. Just… slower. Only because I agreed to let her try her way.”

He laughed, a hollow, humourless sound. “But you and I both know the truth, don’t we? Some souls are beyond saving. They’re so far gone that keeping them here is a mistake, a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. And yet, you let her, your Charlie, and her naive ideals blind you. You play at redemption while ignoring what you know in your bones is true.”

Lucifer’s mouth opened, ready to argue, but the other Lucifer silenced him with a sharp glare, his eyes glowing crimson as horns began to press from his skull.

“You know this better than anyone,” he continued, his voice low and vibrating with rage. “No law, no redemption program, is iron-clad. Someone—one of those twisted souls—is bound to fool her. Eventually, one of those fiends will find a loophole, trick their way up to Heaven, and wreak chaos all over again! You know this, and yet you just let your Charlie berate Adam for doing what his job that he never wanted.”

The other Lucifer took a step closer, each word a lash of fury. “Exterminations are needed. But you’ll never convince her of that, will you? Just like I can’t convince mine. And yet, here you are—standing against me as if you don’t understand the danger. You let her mock your Adam, even encourage her little band of ‘redeemers,’ and for what? Just to protect your image? To pretend you’re somehow more merciful?”

Lucifer felt his chest tighten with something almost like shame, but he forced himself to hold the other’s gaze, even as those eyes burned like twin infernos.

“It’s the same in your universe and mine,” the other Lucifer hissed, his voice a dark, dangerous whisper. “These souls—they’re poison, festering deeper with every day they spend here. And each day more of them arrive. You know that. You feel it. And yet, you still taunted Adam, mocked him for doing his job.”

Lucifer felt the words hammer into him, each one ringing with a painful truth. He thought of the countless meetings, the jabs, the digs he’d made at Adam’s expense, a man forced to carry a burden he’d never asked for.

“A job that you know he didn’t want,” the other Lucifer sneered, his voice breaking with rage. “Heaven damned him, cursed him, forced this role onto him. He didn’t have a choice! Maybe he turned it into a game, a twisted dance to keep himself sane, but what else was he supposed to do? You know he barely has any power. You let your daughter and her friends tear him down, turn him into a villain, and for what? So you could feel sorry for yourself?”

The other Lucifer shook his head, disgust flashing across his face. “You knew about the Exterminations. You knew what those cursed souls would do if they escaped. And still, you hid, pretending to be the victim, playing up the tragic act while Hell turned into a battlefield and the man who once trusted you was left alone to hold it together. You abandoned him and let him bear the weight. And now, you have the audacity to stand here and claim you could do better?”

Lucifer’s voice caught in his throat, every defence he could muster dissolving in the wake of the other’s words. He had wanted redemption, a way to right his wrongs, but now he felt exposed, his mistakes, his cruelty laid bare before him.

The other Lucifer’s expression twisted with raw anger, but there was pain there, too—a pain that mirrored the ache buried in Lucifer’s own heart.

“Maybe I’m cruel. Maybe I’m harsh,” he murmured, his voice finally softening, though the fire still burned in his eyes. “But I’ve done it all to keep this world, our world, from collapsing. And as much as it tears me apart, I’ll keep making the hard choices—if it means keeping Adam safe.”

A silence fell between them, thick and heavy, laden with the weight of everything left unsaid. Lucifer opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat, caught between apology and guilt, and a strange, hollow acceptance. He knew now that he couldn’t fix what he’d done. And standing here, facing himself, he saw that perhaps the other Lucifer’s harsh reality was, in its way, just another form of love—twisted, painful, but love nonetheless.

His eyes gleamed with a vicious light. “You did nothing. You ran away, played the victim. And now, because you lost your Adam, you think you can come and claim mine?”

Lucifer flinched, his chest tightening with the old ache of loss. The memory of his own Adam, gone—vanished into the darkness of his choices, perhaps forever.

The other Lucifer leaned closer; eyes hard. “Yes, I might have been neglectful. Yes, I might have lost sight of what matters. But I can be better. I will be fucking better. I’m not deluding myself about who I am, or the cost of what I’ve done. I’ve sacrificed my time, my love, my life, all to keep Hell in check—to keep the darkness from spilling over. So don’t you dare fucking lecture me on my sins when yours make mine look tame.”

His voice cracked, the rage giving way to something rawer, stripped of the bravado and bitterness. “You know nothing about what it’s like. Adam... he’s fragile in my world. He doesn’t have the immortality of the Adam you lost. His curse wasn’t Lilith’s barren womb—it was something far worse. No immunity. A body as delicate as glass. He can’t go anywhere alone; one illness, one attack, and he could die.”

The other Lucifer’s voice trembled as he spoke, his anger fraying into desperation. “If anyone here knew just how weak he really is… I would lose him. He nearly died when he bore Charlie, and I thought… I thought I’d lose them both. And now? I have another child on the way, and I’m terrified he won’t survive it.”

Lucifer’s gaze fell, shame tightening in his gut. For all his own sacrifices, he had never faced the same fears this other self-had endured, the endless vigilance, the agony of knowing the one he loved was only ever one step away from death.

The other Lucifer looked at him, and for the first time, the anger in his face softened into something like understanding. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been cruel, even reckless. But it was all to keep him safe, to keep Hell in order. I’ve seen the horrors that human souls can become, how they twist and corrupt even further in death. And Adam… he’s all I have. So yes, maybe I’ve gone too far. But you? You’ve done worse and still want to pretend you’re the better man.”

He shook his head, his voice a hoarse whisper. “You don’t get to take this from me. Not after everything I’ve done to keep him alive.”

Lucifer looked up, his voice barely more than a murmur. “I… didn’t know.”

The other Lucifer stared at him, silent for a long moment. “No. You didn’t. But that doesn’t excuse what you came here to do.”

He took a steadying breath, his eyes hardening again. “If you care about Adam, if you ever did, then you’ll turn back now. Let me protect him in the only way I know how.”

Lucifer swallowed; his throat tight. He had come here seeking redemption, a chance to rewrite his mistakes, to find a version of Adam he could love without losing himself. But standing here, facing the man he could have become, he saw something he hadn’t expected—sacrifice, duty, and a love that ran deeper than any darkness he had known.

Slowly, he nodded, stepping back into the shadows. “I… I’ll go. But know this. I’m sorry for everything I put him through, for every sin, every betrayal.”

His voice faltered. “And I hope… I hope you can be the man he deserves.”

The other Lucifer watched him go, his face an unreadable mask. But as Lucifer slipped into the darkness, he thought he saw a glimmer of understanding, a hint of forgiveness—if only a sliver, buried deep within those storm-grey eyes.

“You don’t deserve any form Adam and you never will.”

Lucifer closed his eyes – it was painful to hear.

He agreed.

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Devil's Night~

gosh, i'm so happy. i really love this idea. it is inspired by @things-arent-what-they-seem66's AU of adam and lilith switching places. this is part 01, there will be a part 02.

i know harvest is over but i have a few more things to write!

hope you all enjoy it!

@adamsappleweek

Hell felt different now. Smoke hung heavy, thicker than usual, as though mourning in silence, and the very ground under Lucifer’s hooves pulsed with a faint, restless throb, like a wound struggling to close. He stood in solemn stillness, his back perfectly arched, hands folded over the twisted surface of his apple-wood cane, fingers tapping rhythmically as if to an unseen clock counting down something. His gaze, red and yellow like smouldering embers, fixed on the lifeless form of Adam sprawled on the darkened ground, surrounded by a shimmer of golden liquid and the soft glint of fallen feathers.

Adam lay motionless, eyes shut, lips the colour of a fading bruise. Lucifer’s throat tightened. Part of him wanted to whisper thanks to his daughter, Charlie, for guarding Adam’s body from the ravenous cannibals of the underworld, but he knew if he opened his mouth, his voice would crack, betraying him.

The silence pressed in, cold and oppressive, creeping into his bones. Hell was hot, stifling, but Lucifer felt chilled to his core—a hollow, biting emptiness that gnawed at him. His gaze remained unbroken, staring with a strange, desperate hope that this was some twisted joke. Perhaps any moment now, Adam would shift, laugh in that carefree, Edenish way of his, and sit up, as vibrant and stubborn as ever. But Adam remained still, silent, chest unmoving. An uncontrollable shiver ran through Lucifer, twisting painfully in his stomach.

He had never truly believed Adam could die. He had always assumed—no, convinced himself—that Adam would outlive them all, his spirit too relentless to surrender. And somewhere, hidden in the darkest corners of Lucifer's heart, was a naïve sliver of hope that Adam would eventually come back to him. That the bond they had once shared in Eden, a bond so profound it had nearly eclipsed the heavens themselves, would find a way to mend. They would rebuild, somehow. It would be different, yes, but they would laugh together again, walk side by side once more. Those stolen moments in Eden, when Lucifer was Adam’s guardian angel and Adam, his purpose… those memories clung to him, a bittersweet poison he couldn’t let go of.

Back then, Adam had been his everything. His duty, his joy, his reason to exist. Lucifer remembered the thrill that had sparked through him, the first time he heard the voice of God declare his purpose. He was to be Adam’s protector, his guide, his companion in that boundless garden. And he had thrown himself into that role, relished it. He had loved Adam in a way he hadn’t understood at the time. The garden had been theirs alone. No one else existed in that timeless paradise, only him and Adam, with eternity stretched out before them like a golden promise.

But then Lilith entered the garden, and everything had unravelled. He thought he had loved her, thought she understood him, saw him for who he truly was beneath the wings and heavenly light. He had let his heart slip through his fingers, foolishly entrusting her with every secret, every fractured part of himself. He had given her everything: a home, a family, the taste of power. Yet, for her, it was never enough. She wanted more, always something beyond his reach, until she had finally abandoned him and Charlie the moment something more alluring came her way. The emptiness she left was raw, a void gnawing at him even now.

He had tried to convince himself he deserved it—that he was vile, selfish, the snake of Eden. He had thought he deserved every torment she dealt him, every moment of betrayal. He had hurt Adam, and that wound, though buried, had never fully healed. He could still see Adam’s green eyes, filled with tears and betrayal, piercing through the centuries. That look had seared itself into Lucifer’s soul, a scar he tried endlessly to ignore. The first betrayal had been shattering. But there were others. With each one, he had watched something precious in Adam’s eyes die, replaced by a steely resolve, a silent ache that mirrored Lucifer’s own.

During their last battle—the one that had forever severed the fragile thread between them—Lucifer had let slip a remark about Eve. He had done it to provoke Adam, to elicit some reaction, any reaction, just to feel Adam’s gaze on him again, even if it was filled with fury. But Adam’s reaction hadn’t been what he’d expected.

That fleeting hint of betrayal in his eye—the exact shade Lucifer knew so well—had cut deeper than any physical blow could. Adam hadn’t been blind to it, hadn’t let it slide as Lucifer had hoped. The anger had transformed into something colder, something Lucifer couldn’t quite name, but it lingered, long after they parted.

Now, standing here, watching Adam’s motionless form, Lucifer felt the full weight of those mistakes crashing over him, a tidal wave of remorse he could no longer fend off. Every unspoken word, every fractured promise, every fleeting glance they had shared in Eden came flooding back to him with agonizing clarity. The irony was sharp—Adam, his purpose, his only joy, lay gone, and Lucifer was left adrift, lost in a void he had fashioned for himself. The garden, their laughter, their whispered secrets beneath the endless, star-strewn sky… all of it had turned to ash, leaving Lucifer alone with nothing but the ghosts of memories that would never fade, haunting him like shadows he could never escape.

Lucifer clenched his eyes shut, the whispers of memories swelling in his mind, pressing into the silence until they filled the air around him. He could hear it all—every laugh, every teasing remark, every stolen moment under Eden’s endless skies. The phantom echoes of their laughter rang through his ears, so vivid it felt as if Adam were right there beside him again, as though any second he’d feel Adam’s hand slap his back or hear him call his name with that familiar, playful lilt. He could almost smell the dewy grass and the scent of fresh, untainted earth that had once been their playground, their sanctuary.

They had been so close, he and Adam, so tightly bound by a friendship that felt eternal, unbreakable. Lucifer’s heart had belonged entirely to Adam in those days, every bit of him dedicated to his charge, to his purpose. Adam had been his light, his reason to be, his only true companion in the vast, bewildering beauty of the garden. And yet, Lucifer had lost it all, torn it apart with his own hands, with his own selfish heart. He’d destroyed something precious, something he thought could never be lost. He’d always believed they’d somehow find their way back to each other. That one day, Adam would look at him with those green eyes, softened with forgiveness, and they’d be… something again. Friends, perhaps. Or more.

A soft, broken sniff escaped him, and he forced his eyes open, the agony tightening in his chest as his gaze fell once more on Adam’s still, lifeless body. His sharp teeth clenched as his hooves trembled beneath him. He took a faltering step forward, his legs weak, as if the weight of centuries was pressing down on them, the memories and regrets dragging him down. His knees felt brittle, ready to buckle as he moved closer. His eyes burned, a stinging heat prickling at them, growing worse with each step until he found himself standing directly over Adam’s body. He looked down, his chest tight, his breath ragged, hardly daring to believe this was real.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice barely a rasp, clinging to some thread of hope that seemed to slip further from his grasp. His gaze was fixated on Adam’s chest, willing it to rise, to betray some hidden breath.

“Hey, oi… this isn’t funny.” His claws tightened around the apple-wood cane, his knuckles whitening, desperate to ground himself against the unrelenting horror of the truth. “Adam, this isn’t funny. Stop… stop playing around.”

His voice cracked, shaky and hollow. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he searched Adam’s face for any sign of movement, any flicker of those warm, golden eyes. But Adam remained still, lips tinted blue, his skin pallid under the dim, smoky light. Lucifer’s hands trembled, and with a sharp intake of breath, he dropped to his knees, his cane clattering to the ground beside him.

“Please…”

The word slipped out, soft and broken, barely a whisper. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against the cold skin of Adam’s cheek. The chill bit into him, a harsh, unyielding reminder that this wasn’t a nightmare he could wake from. He closed his eyes again, unable to bear the sight of Adam like this, and the memories surged back once more, flooding him with bittersweet echoes.

“Do you remember, Adam?” he murmured, voice barely holding together, his hand resting gently against Adam’s cheek. “Do you remember… the nights we’d talk until the stars began to fade? When we’d chase each other through the trees, laughing like nothing else in all creation mattered?”

His voice wavered, choked by the memories, by the weight of a love he’d buried so deeply he’d almost forgotten how much it hurt.

The memories of Eden shimmered behind his eyes—memories of Adam grinning, his face lit up with that carefree, boyish charm that Lucifer had adored. Memories of Adam leaning on him, both talking under the vastness of the heavens, lost in their own world, a world they had once believed would never end.

But it had ended. He’d been the one to end it.

And now, here he was, left alone with nothing but his regrets and the fading whispers of a love that could never be repaired. His shoulders sagged as he leaned closer, his forehead almost touching Adam’s. He spoke again, his voice barely more than a breath, as though he feared the silence would shatter beneath the weight of his words.

“Adam, I’m sorry,” he whispered, the confession torn from him like a piece of his soul. “I’m so… sorry.”

But Adam remained silent, cold, unyielding, and for the first time, Lucifer understood the full extent of his loss, the emptiness that would haunt him for eternity. His hand slipped from Adam’s cheek, his head bowing as the first, silent tear fell.

Lucifer shuffled closer on his knees, inch by inch, his face warming with a painful flush as his eyes misted over.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, voice quivering as he leaned over Adam’s body.

His fingers trembling as they reached out, brushing just the edge of the bloodstained fabric. He wanted to touch Adam’s hand, to feel that familiar warmth once more, but he couldn’t bring himself to close the distance. His breath hitched, his hands hovering, shaking, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I was supposed to be your guardian, Adam,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath. “I was made for you… to protect you, to be whatever you needed, whatever you deserved.”

He swallowed, his chest tight as the words clawed their way out, raw and unfiltered. “But I failed you. I failed you in ways I can’t even… can’t even justify.”

His fingers trailed across Adam’s robe, tracing the familiar folds, the dark stains of blood, each one a reminder of how far they’d fallen from what they once were.

He took a shaky breath, his mind dragging him back to the painful memories, to Lilith.

“She was… God, she was everything to me then,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I thought… I thought I loved her. I thought she saw me in a way no one else ever had. I thought she understood me. She was fierce, and powerful, and beautiful, and I thought—”

His voice broke, and he looked down, the shame tightening like a vice around his heart. “I thought she would stay. I thought… I thought she wanted me, that she wanted what we could build together. I cut off my own wings for her, gave up everything I had, my power, my place in heaven. And then, at the first chance she got, she left. Left me and Charlie as if we were nothing.”

He let out a bitter laugh, empty and hollow. “But maybe… maybe I deserved it. I had it coming, didn’t I? For what I did to you.”

His gaze flickered to Adam’s face, hoping desperately to see a flicker of forgiveness, but Adam remained still, cold and lifeless. Lucifer clenched his teeth, forcing himself to keep going, to lay everything bare before him.

“You saw us, didn’t you?” he whispered. “Back in Eden. You saw Lilith and me… together. And I knew. I knew it wasn’t fair to you, that you didn’t understand. You didn’t deserve that, Adam. You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, to be left alone, wondering what happened to me, wondering why everything changed.”

He looked away, ashamed. “And I can’t explain myself. I wish I could. I want to, but… I don’t know what happened. I was so… blinded. I couldn’t see you, couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I was too wrapped up in her, in what I thought I felt for her.”

His voice dropped to a whisper; his words laced with regret. “But before Lilith, it was always you. It was always you, Adam. I was so… so sure I loved you, I just didn’t know it then. I loved every moment we spent together. I would have done anything for you, anything to make you happy. And then Lilith appeared, and it was like… I lost sight of everything, even myself. And I’m so sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry for hurting you like that. I can’t… I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”

His breath came faster, his heart racing as he leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching Adam’s.

“Please,” he gasped, desperation bleeding into his voice. “Please believe me, Adam… please, just believe me.”

But Adam didn’t move. His chest remained still, his lips unmoving, his eyes closed. Adam was gone, lost to him forever, and there was no forgiveness left to give.

And the truth was, it didn’t end there. He knew that. It had only gotten worse. With every betrayal, every hurtful word, he had crushed any possibility of Adam ever forgiving him. The garden’s peace had been shattered the day he offered Eve the apple of knowledge, sealing their fates, twisting their lives in ways they could never repair. And… he’d done worse, so much worse. Seducing Eve, leading her astray beneath the same tree where he and Lilith had once been together—it was a cruelty he couldn’t justify, a cruelty he could barely comprehend. God, what had he been thinking? What kind of twisted satisfaction had he found in that, in taking from Adam everything that mattered?

He had shattered Adam’s life piece by piece, and yet, even then, Adam had been forced to face him time and time again. When Heaven and Hell would meet, when Sera dragged Adam into those dreadful meetings, he’d seen the reluctance, the pain in Adam’s eyes, how he didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to face either him or Lilith. But he had no choice. And Lucifer… he hadn’t been kind. Neither he nor Lilith had shown him an ounce of mercy. They had ridiculed him, humiliated him, found twisted joy in watching him squirm, powerless and betrayed. And why? Why had he been so cruel? What purpose had it served?

He looked down, his heart aching as he remembered those meetings, the way Adam had silently endured every word, every insult, sitting there, taking it, never once fighting back. Adam had suffered, and Lucifer had watched, almost revelling in it, as if punishing Adam would somehow heal the cracks in his own broken heart. As if hurting Adam could numb his own pain. But he had only hurt himself in the end, lost the one person who had ever mattered to him.

And when the Extermination finally came, when the heavens unleashed their wrath, Lucifer had known, deep down, that they deserved it. Every drop of blood, every scream, every life lost—he and Lilith had brought it upon themselves. They had forced Adam’s hand, driven him to the breaking point. And now, here he was, kneeling in front of Adam’s lifeless form, begging for forgiveness that would never come.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to Adam’s cold chest, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his words broken and raw. “I’m so sorry… I’m so… so sorry…”

And there, in the quiet, he finally allowed himself to cry, his tears falling like ashes, a silent lament for the life he had destroyed, for the love he had lost forever.

With trembling hands, Lucifer finally reached out, his fingers brushing over Adam’s chest, desperate to feel any sign of life, any hint of warmth. But there was nothing. No steady drum of a heartbeat, no soft rise and fall of breath. Just silence, a vast and hollow silence that ripped through him like a jagged blade.

His eyes widened, hot tears spilling down his cheeks as memories surged to the surface. In Eden, he had often rested his head against Adam’s chest, lulled by the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. It had been one of his favourite things, to lie there and listen to that soft, steady pulse. It had felt like… like home. It had felt like safety, like something real and lasting. He had loved it, loved Adam, loved him more than he had ever been able to admit.

But now—now there was nothing. Just silence.

Lucifer's throat tightened as he leaned down, pressing his face against Adam’s chest, willing the warmth back, willing that familiar heartbeat to start up again. He held his breath, straining his ears, hoping, begging for the faintest thump of life. Just one beat, one inhale, anything. But there was nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

A sob wrenched from his throat, harsh and broken, as the realization finally crashed over him, too powerful to deny. Adam was gone. Truly gone. There would be no laughter, no teasing words, no forgiveness. The connection he had always felt with Adam, that subtle warmth in the back of his mind that told him Adam was alive, was… gone. Severed, leaving only an aching, freezing emptiness in its place. For the first time in eons, Lucifer felt truly, utterly alone.

He clutched at Adam’s robes, his claws slicing through the fabric as he buried his face deeper into Adam’s chest, his sobs tearing through him, raw and desperate.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely more than a broken breath. “Please… please come back. Adam, please… I’m begging you. Just… just come back.”

But Adam lay silent, unmoving, his body a hollow shell. His soul, the vibrant light that had filled Lucifer’s darkest moments with hope, with warmth, was gone. Lost to him forever.

Lucifer clutched harder, his claws rending the cloth, his entire body shaking with the force of his sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Addie,” he choked out, the nickname slipping from his lips as if by instinct, a final, broken plea to the friend he had loved and failed. “I’m so… so sorry.”

He lay there, crushed beneath the weight of his own grief, pressing his face into Adam’s chest as if he could somehow force life back into him, as if he could somehow undo all the harm he had done. But the silence was deafening, a cruel, unyielding reminder that it was too late. Adam was gone, and no amount of sorrow, no amount of regret could bring him back.

Lucifer’s cries echoed through the barren, smoking expanse of Hell, raw and unrestrained, like a wound torn open, bleeding out all the pain and love he had carried for so long, hidden even from himself. And for the first time, Lucifer understood the full measure of his loss. There would be no redemption, no second chance. The love he had been too proud, too blind to claim was gone, leaving him hollow, shattered in a way that no amount of time could heal.

And there, alone in the endless silence, Lucifer wept, clutching Adam’s lifeless form as if he could somehow hold onto him, even as everything he had ever loved slipped through his fingers, leaving nothing but an aching void where his heart had once been.

Lucifer’s body was numb, every muscle trembling and strained as he finally stepped back from Adam’s grave. Beneath the smoky sky of Hell, in his hidden garden—a small oasis of fragile memories and forbidden nostalgia—Adam now rested. The garden had been Lucifer’s sanctuary, his one secret, private place built from the remnants of Eden that still clung to his soul. It was his slice of paradise in the darkness, a testament to the life and love he’d lost. Lilith had scoffed at it, her distaste a constant reminder of their fractured souls and desires, but he had never let go. The garden had been everything to him.

Slowly, Lucifer lowered himself to his knees, his hand hovering over the freshly turned earth. His claws brushed the soil, and as his fingers spread, a stream of red carnations and roses bloomed from the earth, unfurling over Adam’s grave like blood-red whispers. The blossoms curled around his fingers, soft and warm, almost as if they carried Adam’s presence.

"I’m so sorry, Addie,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, hoarse from days of weeping. He traced the petals with delicate care, caressing the earth as though it were Adam himself. “I wish things had been different. I wish I’d known… I wish I’d understood what you truly meant to me back in Eden.”

Lucifer’s voice cracked, and he closed his eyes, the weight of his regret pressing down like an ocean. He had always thought he had time, always thought he could mend things one day, that somehow, he could make Adam see the love he had hidden, buried deep under pride and mistakes. But there was no longer time—just this garden and a grave he had made for the only one who had ever really understood him.

“I turned you into something you weren’t,” he continued, his tears flowing freely. “You were gentle… so full of life. That angel who became a soldier, who destroyed so much—he wasn’t you. He was my shadow, my mistake. You deserved so much better.”

He wiped a tear away, though more kept coming, unbidden. “I wish I could have made you happy.”

He struggled to his hooves, his body exhausted, but as he rose, a glint of gold caught his eye. He paused, his heart lurching painfully. A golden feather lay on the ground, dusted with earth yet still gleaming faintly in the dimness. He bent down and picked it up with reverent fingers, holding it to his chest as his vision blurred with fresh tears. Adam’s feathers had always captivated him, their radiance beyond anything he had seen. They had been perfect, beautiful… like Adam himself.

With a shaking breath, Lucifer held the feather close, pressing it against his heart as though it could fill the empty void that Adam’s loss had left behind.

“I love you, Addie,” he whispered to the flowers, to the silence, to the golden thread of memory still tethered to his heart. “I know you never believed me… but I did. I do. Even if I ruined everything, even if I hurt you. I love you.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he bowed his head, clutching the feather as if it were his lifeline. He had made terrible, unforgivable choices—choices that had cost him Eden, that had shattered whatever Adam, and he had once shared. And now he was alone, doomed to live in a Hell he could never escape.

A quiet, desperate plea escaped his lips, broken and raw. “I wish… I wish I could die too. To be anywhere but here, to be free… but Hell won’t let me go.”

Lucifer’s shoulders slumped, weighed down by endless despair, and he closed his eyes, cradling the feather as though it were Adam himself. He cast one last lingering look at the grave before he disappeared in a shuddering burst of golden flame.

He reappeared in his chambers, the cold and darkness pressing in on him as he sank down onto his bed. Around him, rubber ducks filled the room in bright, absurd little heaps, mocking him with their silly smiles. They were his only companions now, his only solace. Adam was gone. There was no one left.

Lucifer crawled into the pile, uncaring as the ducks scattered and tumbled around him, and clutched Adam’s feather to his face, breathing in its faint, lingering scent. He curled up tightly, his wings folded around him as he nestled into the feather, as if trying to burrow into the memory of the man he had lost.

In the silence, he closed his eyes, willing the pain to ebb, but it only sharpened, growing more intense as he nuzzled the feather, desperate for any remaining trace of Adam. He lay there, alone, his broken heart bleeding into the darkness, haunted by the love he had lost and the choices he could never undo.

Lucifer’s eyes felt gritty, his head pounding as he slowly stirred from a cold, fitful sleep. The darkness seemed alive, pressing in on him like a weight, filling his chest with a pain that twisted and grew until he whimpered, his claws clutching at the thick blankets tangled around him. As he drifted into sleep, his mind unravelled into strange, painful visions—memories and dreams stitched together into a haunting tapestry.

He saw Adam, standing in Eden’s sunlight, looking as he had in the earliest days—soft, serene, his golden wings shining as he laughed, his warm gaze fixed on Lucifer. Lucifer reached out, heart swelling with a desperate need to close the distance, to be with Adam again in their paradise. He stumbled forward, calling out promises he’d failed to keep, promises to do better, to be better for Adam. But Adam only stood there, smiling that same distant, heartbreaking smile, as though Lucifer’s words were a faint echo.

The harder Lucifer tried to reach him, the further Adam seemed to drift, like a mirage on the edge of his vision. Lucifer’s six wings beat furiously as he tried to fly, but the space between them widened, and his strength faltered. He stumbled, his robes—once pure and pristine—dragging him down as he fell to the earth. Mud splattered over him, and when he looked down, he saw his hooves—his demonic, twisted form reflecting back at him. One of his eyes had turned red, dark and unholy, a cruel reminder of what he had become.

Adam stood there, golden and radiant, watching him with unreadable eyes before turning, his wings folding as he started to walk away.

“Wait,” Lucifer gasped, his voice raw, clawing at the earth to pull himself forward. “Please, Addie, wait! Don’t leave me!”

But Adam only grew smaller, his image fading until there was nothing but a memory slipping away like sand through his fingers. Lucifer screamed into the darkness, his voice breaking with grief.

With a strangled gasp, he jolted awake, heart pounding as he sat up, clutching his chest. His chamber was dim and quiet, the dark blankets draping over him like the weight of his despair. His skin felt clammy and wrong, as though he were covered in a thin layer of despair he couldn’t shake. Curling forward, he hugged his knees, his claws digging into the quilt as choked sobs slipped from his lips. The pain of loss, of loneliness, stabbed into him like shards of ice.

Suddenly, a gentle, almost ethereal touch grazed his shoulder, soft and warm. Lucifer froze, his body going rigid as a familiar voice broke the silence, filled with tenderness.

“Luci… did you have a nightmare?”

He dared not breathe. His pulse roared in his ears as he slowly turned, his gaze locking onto a pair of golden eyes—soft, kind, impossibly familiar. For a moment, he could only stare, feeling as if he’d slipped into yet another dream. The face before him, full of compassion and warmth, was one he’d thought lost forever.

“A-Adam?” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. His eyes grew wide, disbelief painting every line of his face.

Adam looked at him with gentle concern, his golden eyes glowing faintly. “Hey, Luci… you look pale. Are you alright?”

He raised a hand to touch Lucifer’s face, but Lucifer jerked back, as if burned. His heart raced, his mind reeling as he scrambled backward, his gaze darting around the room.

He blinked, noticing that the cramped piles of rubber ducks—his bizarre, lonely treasures—were gone. In their place were shelves filled with carefully arranged, exquisite little ducks, each displayed with precision and care. His chamber seemed larger, familiar yet somehow transformed, warmer.

"Luci?" Adam’s voice brought him back, and Lucifer turned to see Adam still sitting there, his eyes filled with a soft, steady patience. He was so close, so real—Lucifer could almost feel the warmth radiating from him. Adam poked his cheek playfully, brows knitting in confusion.

“Are you alright? Did you hit your head?”

Lucifer’s breath caught. He stared at Adam, searching his gaze for some sign, some confirmation of what he was seeing.

“What… what’s going on?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Why are you… why are you here? Why are you in my bed?”

Adam chuckled softly, his expression as open and pure as it had been in Eden. “Luci, how hard did you hit your head?”

He reached out, his hand brushing Lucifer’s hair with a tenderness that made Lucifer’s heart ache.

Lucifer swallowed, his mind racing. This couldn’t be real—it was impossible. But as he looked into Adam’s golden eyes, feeling the soft warmth of his touch, he felt something long dead flicker within him, fragile and terrified of breaking.

“Addie…” he breathed, reaching out, his fingers hovering just inches from Adam’s cheek, too afraid to touch. The reality of Adam’s warmth, his nearness, felt like a forbidden dream. "Is it… really you?"

Adam smiled softly, the warmth of his presence settling around them both like a balm. "It’s me, Luci. I’m here.”

Lucifer’s heart skipped, his chest tightening with an emotion he hadn’t felt in eons. The ache that had haunted him for so long began to soften, the darkness retreating just enough to let in a flicker of hope.

Lucifer’s body surged forward with a frantic energy, scrambling onto the bed with a clumsy urgency. His usually pristine golden hair was a dishevelled mess, wild locks sticking out as if echoing the storm of emotions within him. Reaching for Adam’s hands, Lucifer clasped them tightly, his fingers trembling. He let out a shaky, half-choked laugh that dissolved into a sound halfway between wonder and despair.

“You’re… you’re alive! Addie, you’re alive,” he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief, each word a shuddering breath as though speaking might shatter the fragile reality before him. His heart, long numbed by guilt and despair, throbbed now with a vulnerable intensity.

Adam’s golden eyes, warm yet puzzled, met his with a quiet concern, his gentle gaze unchanging, almost cautious. But Lucifer couldn’t stop. Words spilled from him like a dam bursting, rushing forward in an almost feverish cascade.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so—so sorry. Please, forgive me. For everything I did, everything I didn’t do. I never wanted to hurt you; I just… I just wanted us to be close again. I ruined it all, Addie. I don’t deserve—”

His voice cracked, the words piling up, unable to keep pace with the grief he’d buried so deep.

As Lucifer leaned forward, trying to draw closer to Adam, he suddenly stopped, his chest jolting as something solid pressed against him, keeping him just out of reach. His brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced down, seeing the curve of the blankets bulging slightly, pressed firm against his stomach. Whatever was hidden beneath them felt solid, almost weighty, and he instinctively reached to pull the covers back, baffled.

Adam giggled softly, a rosy blush colouring his cheeks. “I think I’ve gotten… bigger,” he murmured, an air of shy humour in his voice.

Lucifer blinked, his gaze darting from Adam’s face back down to the mysterious curve beneath the covers. It was then he noticed how strikingly different Adam looked: healthier, more radiant, his cheeks free of the hollow shadows and weariness Lucifer remembered. Adam’s skin seemed to almost glow, and atop his head were two delicate horns, a soft shade of blue that stirred memories of his own former self, back before the fall.

Adam fidgeted slightly, his expression shifting to one of slight embarrassment.

“You don’t think I’m… fat, do you?” he asked, eyes dropping self-consciously, though they glimmered with a touch of humour.

Fat? Lucifer thought, dazed. He remembered a time he’d teased Adam about putting on weight, but now his throat tightened with remorse. Shaking his head, he murmured, “No, Addie. You’re not… you’re not fat. You’re beautiful, like always.”

He leaned forward, but again that mysterious object kept them apart. Growing impatient, Lucifer carefully drew back the quilt, eyes widening as the reality settled over him.

The rounded swell of Adam’s stomach was unmistakable, pressing against the soft blue fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t the softness of excess but rather a firm, natural curve—like a promise, a secret harbouring a fragile new life. Lucifer’s mouth dropped open as he stared in shock.

“You’re… you’re pregnant,” he whispered, a high, incredulous pitch to his voice, awe and disbelief mingling in his words. “How—how did this happen?”

Adam laughed, a soft, musical sound that seemed to fill the room with warmth. His cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, and he reached down, placing a gentle hand over the curve of his stomach.

 “I think you know exactly how, Luci,” he teased, voice tender, but with a knowing light in his eyes. “Six months ago… don’t you remember? It was after our anniversary.”

Anniversary? What did that even mean?

Lucifer’s mind spun, the ancient gears in his head struggling to find traction. His brow furrowed as he tried to grasp Adam’s words, though they slipped through his understanding like sand. The weight of confusion pressed on him as he blinked furiously, shifting his gaze to steady himself, to ground himself in Adam's presence.

"It was just after our 300th anniversary," Adam murmured softly, a warm hum that filled the room. He wore a gentle, almost shy smile as he glanced down at the small but unmistakable swell of his belly. "It was… a bit of a surprise. Neither of us expected it—not after Charlie. But we’re happy, aren’t we?”

Adam’s gaze lifted, and Lucifer caught the flicker of vulnerability there, the unspoken fear that nestled in his husband’s eyes. The usually composed Adam looked almost… fragile.

His voice quivered, softer now, as he asked, “You’re still happy, aren’t you, Luci? About the baby?”

Adam’s hand drifted protectively to his stomach, his brow creased with worry. “You… you haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

Lucifer’s throat tightened. The question held weight—no, not weight. A gravity. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he could see how much it mattered to Adam. Whatever was going on, he would figure it out. Somehow. Later.

"Of course, I’m happy!" he said, his voice cracking slightly, and he winced at the sound of it. Still, he moved closer to Adam, his hand instinctively reaching out to rest on his shoulder. He let his fingers slide to Adam’s stomach, his touch cautious, reverent. “I’m… I’m so very happy about… our baby.”

Adam released a slow breath, his tension ebbing away. He leaned into Lucifer, who quickly wrapped his arms around him, supporting him as though he were cradling the most delicate treasure. For a moment, Lucifer felt unsure, but Adam's warmth, his trust, softened something deep within him.

"I love you, Luci," Adam whispered, his voice thick with sleep and sweet with affection. His eyelids fluttered, and he yawned softly, pressing closer to Lucifer. "I’m so happy we… fell together.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. Fell together. The words struck him as if he were hearing them for the first time. He took in their room—a chamber he knew well, yet tonight it was somehow transformed, bathed in a serene, tender shade of blue. Every edge of the room softened, a haven unlike any place he'd ever known.

"Luci…" Adam murmured, tugging him down toward the bed. "I’m tired. Let’s go back to sleep.”

Lucifer nodded slowly, lowering himself beside Adam. His gaze stayed glued to his face, mesmerized by the peaceful smile that lingered on Adam’s lips, the faint glow of pure contentment that radiated from him.

“I love you, Luci,” Adam whispered, eyes finally closing, his breathing slowing as he drifted into sleep.

Lucifer swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as he gently stroked his hand along Adam's arm. "I… I love you too," he whispered, his voice fragile yet earnest.

Adam sighed softly in his sleep, and as Lucifer held him close, he felt something blossom inside him—something ancient, eternal, but also achingly new. An inexplicable longing settled over him, as if he were relearning the meaning of love in the warmth of Adam’s steady breaths, the rise and fall of his chest.

ucifer lay still beside Adam, watching his husband slumber, mesmerized by the soft rise and fall of his chest, the faint smile lingering on his lips even in sleep. Lucifer didn’t know how long he lay there, simply unable to look away. He couldn't. Not when, in the life he remembered, he had just been kneeling by Adam's corpse, his face drenched in tears. What was going on? Adam had died… hadn’t he? Lucifer had buried him, laid him to rest in the heart of Eden, his most cherished garden, a place he had never allowed anyone else.

Carefully, Lucifer slipped from the bed, ensuring he didn’t disturb Adam. He swung his legs to the floor, glancing down and feeling the faintest flicker of surprise. He was shirtless, and instead of his usual dark pajamas, he wore an unexpected pair of bright, duck-themed boxers. They were… adorable? He squinted, not recognizing them at all.

He padded softly across the room, his hooves sinking into the plush carpet that covered the floor. This, too, was new—a rich, comforting shade that he’d never seen before in his chamber. His gaze drifted to the walls, noticing how they were no longer draped in the austere, heavy tapestries he remembered. Instead, they were painted in soothing colors, warm and soft, lending the room a sense of calm he hadn’t known he craved. Lucifer frowned, his chest tightening, feeling both out of place and strangely at home.

His eyes caught on a golden-framed portrait on the wall. He knew this painting well—or at least he thought he did. The original painting had been a bittersweet reminder of his life with Lilith and their young daughter, Charlie, back when she was just a toddler. A painful relic. But as he approached, he realized this was… different.

Adam stood beside him in the painting, taking Lilith’s place. His face radiated joy, his arm around their daughter. And Charlie—her hair wasn’t the familiar gold from his memories but a soft hazel, like Adam’s. Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat, his pulse thundering in his chest as he stared at this family that, impossibly, seemed his own.

He tore his gaze away and slipped out of the chamber, the quiet of the corridor wrapping around him like a gentle mist. As he wandered through the halls, he noticed more and more differences. The cold, intimidating decor Lilith had favored was gone, replaced by something warmer, softer, and infinitely more welcoming. The walls, once adorned with shadowy tapestries and harsh colors, now bore gentle hues, punctuated by warm lights that cast a peaceful glow along the polished floors. Lucifer felt his chest tighten, an ache he couldn’t quite name blooming within him. The more he saw, the more he found himself… liking it. It was a home, not just a fortress.

Eventually, Lucifer found himself at the door of his office—the room where he’d spent countless hours handling his duties as King of Hell. He reached out, grasping the door handle, and pushed it open. The moment he stepped inside, he froze. His office, once chaotic and piled high with endless, neglected paperwork, was now spotless. Everything was in perfect order, from the neatly stacked files to the immaculate desk. His neglected paperwork—months, no, years of backlogged duties he’d ignored in his grief—was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes drifted to a shelf by the window. A collection of small, duck figurines, each carefully placed inside a glass box, caught his eye. They looked rare and almost precious, and as Lucifer studied them, he felt an unfamiliar sense of warmth, almost amusement, stirring within him. There was something endearing, something so distinctly Adam about their presence here.

Slowly, Lucifer moved to his desk, trailing his clawed fingers along its smooth surface before picking up a small picture frame. He lowered himself into his plush chair, his eyes fixed on the photo. In the picture, he was cuddling up to Adam, who was visibly pregnant, his belly round and full. Adam looked radiant, though there was a hint of tiredness, even fragility, in his face. But they both looked… happy. So happy it made Lucifer’s chest ache.

He set the frame down carefully, his gaze flicking around the office once more. Books he recognized lined the shelves, yet they seemed to have been meticulously organized and, shockingly, read. The daunting pile of work he had once allowed to fester was not only done but years ahead. How… had that happened? He swallowed, feeling an odd mixture of awe and unease.

Standing up, he left the office and drifted back into the corridor. His eyes caught on more paintings adorning the walls—scenes of a life he had never lived, and yet somehow they felt achingly familiar. One painting showed him standing beside Adam, each with an arm around Charlie, who was beaming with happiness, her hazel eyes bright with love. Another showed them all on a picnic under a willow tree, Charlie tugging at Lucifer’s hand as she laughed. There was one where a teenage Charlie, looking every bit like her mother, was rolling her eyes at Lucifer, though her mouth held a small, affectionate smile.

Lucifer’s steps slowed as he studied each painting, heart thudding as he took in the thousands of moments they depicted. They painted a life he had never dared to dream—a life where he had fallen not with Lilith, but with Adam, a life where they had been damned together and yet had somehow found a way to build a family, a future, a love that shone even here, in Hell. In this life, he had watched Charlie grow, had raised her with Adam by his side, had been part of her life even in her teenage years, when she’d likely rebelled against them both. And she looked so… happy. Every image radiated the joy she’d shared with them, a warmth that lingered in her gaze, a trust and love she had for her parents.

In his own life, there had been no paintings of those years. No laughter, no memories captured of a teenage Charlie by his side. He had lost her trust, had watched her pull away, leaving him with only the shadow of what might have been.

But here… here she was, smiling. Bright-eyed. Free.

Lucifer's breath hitched, a wave of raw emotion rising within him, fierce and unfamiliar. He reached out, fingers grazing the frame of a painting where they all stood together, a family complete, unbroken by the pain that had shadowed his own life.

How was any of this possible? Had he been given another chance, a glimpse into what he could have had? Or was this some cruel illusion, designed to haunt him? As he stood in the corridor, surrounded by memories of a love and a family he had never truly known, he realized that he didn’t care whether this was real or not. This life, these moments—it was a world he wanted to live in. A world where he was loved and had chosen love in return.

He inhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on one last painting—one where he and Adam were dancing, eyes locked, laughter spilling from their lips. In that moment, Lucifer vowed that, however this had happened, he would not let this world slip away. Not again.

Lucifer returned to his chamber, standing outside the heavy doors as he drew a deep breath, his heart pounding wildly at the thought of what awaited him within. He reached out, his hands trembling slightly, and pushed the door open, slipping quietly inside. His hooves felt strangely unsteady, and his fingers twitched at his sides as he approached the enormous, inviting bed.

There, nestled in the tangle of blankets and quilts, was Adam, still fast asleep. The sight made Lucifer pause. Adam looked so peaceful, his expression soft and untroubled as he burrowed further into the cozy warmth of the bed. It was endearing, seeing him like this, utterly relaxed. Lucifer felt a pang of something sweet and gentle, something he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Adam looked… perfect, like he belonged here, like he had always belonged in Lucifer’s bed, in his life.

Swallowing the surge of emotions threatening to overwhelm him, Lucifer reached down, gently pinching the corner of the blankets, lifting them, and sliding himself under. He moved slowly, carefully, until he was right beside Adam. Close enough to feel his warmth, to catch the faint scent of him. And then, with a trembling hand, he reached out, brushing his fingers against Adam’s cheek. The skin was soft, warm, alive.

He’s really here.

He could feel the gentle heat radiating from Adam, the slow rise and fall of his chest, each breath a quiet reminder that Adam was, impossibly, still with him. And as he lay there, watching, he heard something else—a soft, sleepy hum, an occasional quiet laugh, as though Adam were lost in a pleasant dream.

Lucifer’s heart fluttered, a warmth spreading through him. He realized he was smiling, his own breath catching in his chest as he whispered, “I want to see more.”

He inched closer, and as he did, Adam shifted, instinctively snuggling into him, pressing against him with the innocent trust of someone who felt safe, completely at ease. Lucifer’s heart swelled, and he couldn’t resist the urge to nuzzle into Adam’s hair, letting its softness tickle his face, breathing in his scent.

“I want to see more, Addie,” he murmured, his voice low and full of wonder. “I want to see more, Addie. I want to see what else is different.”

He let his fingers trail gently through Adam's hair, the silky strands slipping through his claws as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of him. It was an intimacy he’d never quite allowed himself before, a closeness he hadn’t known he craved until now. He nuzzled his face into Adam's hair, letting the warmth settle into his bones as he wrapped his arms around Adam, holding him like a lifeline.

“I want to see how our lives have changed… together,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, but the words felt monumental, a promise spoken into the quiet stillness of the room.

As he lay there, breathing in sync with Adam, Lucifer felt the exhaustion of countless lifetimes begin to ebb away, replaced by a warmth that wrapped around him like a blanket. A life like this… it was something he’d never allowed himself to even imagine, but now, in this quiet moment, it felt possible. Real. His eyelids grew heavy, and his breathing slowed, matching Adam’s as he drifted closer to sleep, nestled against the man who had always been his tether.

Just before sleep took him, a thought drifted through his mind—a wish, a quiet yearning, Please… let this be real.

And as he surrendered to slumber, Lucifer felt the unfamiliar but deeply welcome sensation of feeling safe, cocooned in a warmth that he wanted to last forever.

When Lucifer awoke, his whole body felt uncommonly… good. There was no lingering ache, no dull exhaustion pressing on his bones, and the familiar cold pang that usually twisted in his chest was… gone. He shifted within the warm embrace of the blankets, savoring the comfort of the bed. A soft, contented yawn escaped him as he rolled onto his back and opened his eyes, taking in the hazy morning light filtering into the room. He blinked a few times, rubbing his face with one hand, feeling well-rested in a way he hadn’t known in what felt like ages.

But then he noticed something amiss—his side felt unusually cold, the spot beside him vacant. Lucifer frowned and rolled onto his side, sliding his hand across the sheets in search of the warmth he expected to find there. Only emptiness met his touch.

His heart leapt into his throat, panic flaring in his chest as he scrambled upright. The sheets tangled around his legs, and before he could steady himself, he stumbled, crashing to the floor in a tangle of quilts and limbs. He winced as his chin hit the ground, but the urgency pulsing within him was far too strong to let that stop him. Ignoring the faint ache, he quickly scrambled to his hooves, his gaze darting around the chamber, anxiety tightening in his chest.

The room was just as it had been last night—spotlessly tidy, softly inviting, as if crafted to hold a sense of peace he’d longed for but never believed he could have. Yet something was wrong. Where was Adam?

Just as he was about to rush out the door in a desperate search, it swung open, and there stood Adam, looking somewhat startled as he took in the sight of Lucifer, wide-eyed and slightly dishevelled, in the middle of the room. Adam’s golden eyes flickered over the mess Lucifer had made in his hurried rise from bed. He blinked, then met Lucifer's gaze with a concerned, puzzled expression.

“Um… a-are you okay?” Adam asked softly, his brow furrowing as he took in the room and then settled his eyes back on Lucifer.

Without hesitation, Lucifer crossed the room, grasping Adam’s hands as if afraid he might vanish if he didn’t hold on tight. “Where were you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with relief yet tinged with the lingering panic that had clawed at him moments before.

A sheepish smile curled across Adam’s lips. “I had to… you know, pee.”

He gestured toward his round belly, and the explanation clicked into place in Lucifer’s mind. Oh. Of course. That made perfect sense. Lucifer’s face flushed, and he released a small, embarrassed whine, his head dipping as he let out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice softened with self-consciousness. “I woke up, and you were gone, and I just… I thought…”

Adam reached up, his hand gentle as he cupped Lucifer’s chin and tilted his face up to meet his gaze. The warmth in Adam’s golden eyes melted away any lingering fear, the softness of his expression like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He smiled, a soft, loving curve of his lips that made Lucifer’s heart skip a beat.

“I’m fine,” Adam reassured him, his voice gentle and soothing. “I’m not sick or anything. You’ve got to stop worrying so much.”

Lucifer trembled under that affectionate gaze, his own heart beating so fiercely he was sure Adam could feel it through his hands. Then, without warning, Adam leaned in, his lips brushing over Lucifer’s in a brief, feather-light kiss that sent shockwaves through Lucifer’s entire being. Adam’s lips were warm, softer than he’d imagined, and the brief press of them against his left him frozen, every thought scattering like dust on the wind.

When Adam pulled away, Lucifer’s face burned crimson, his mind still reeling. He’d just had his first kiss with Adam—a kiss he had never dared dream would happen. It was perfect, in every way he’d never imagined it could be.

“I love you,” Adam murmured, his hands giving Lucifer’s a gentle squeeze. “But remember, I’m not made of china. I’m just… pregnant.”

He smiled with a playful glint in his eyes, as if inviting Lucifer to relax, to let go of his worries.

Lucifer nodded slowly, his face still a bright, unmistakable red as he absorbed the warmth of those words. Adam had kissed him. He had actually kissed him. And, more importantly, he’d said… I love you.

Lucifer could barely breathe, the words echoing in his mind, wrapping around his heart and lighting something within him that he’d thought long dead.

Before he could respond, Adam chuckled softly, stepping back and giving Lucifer a teasing smile. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“Maybe I have,” Lucifer murmured, more to himself than to Adam, his voice still laced with wonder. This felt like a dream, a vivid and impossibly sweet vision he feared would dissolve if he blinked too hard.

Adam laughed, shaking his head as he rubbed his belly. “Well, this ghost is starving. Come on, Luci—let’s go see if there’s anything good in the kitchen.”

He started to shuffle toward the door, glancing back with a playful smile, and Lucifer, still reeling, followed.

As they walked through the halls, Lucifer's gaze lingered on Adam, unable to look away from the quiet beauty of this life. He was here, in a world that felt too beautiful to be real, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, he allowed himself to believe it was possible.

Lucifer followed Adam down the hallway, lingering a step behind, still grappling with the strangeness and sweetness of this new reality. As they entered the kitchen, Lucifer paused, taking in the space with a faint frown. The room was cozy, modestly sized, a far cry from the grandiose kitchen in his dominion. Here, everything seemed designed for warmth rather than grandeur—cabinets of warm wood, a sturdy stove, countertops speckled with flour dust and softened by the morning light filtering in through the window.

He barely had time to absorb it all before Adam made a beeline for the cupboards, his movements full of purpose and energy. Lucifer watched, feeling a strange fondness wash over him as he saw Adam pull out ingredients with practiced ease, his hands working with a confidence that seemed almost ritualistic.

“Adam, you’re pregnant,” Lucifer began, stepping forward and watching Adam stack flour, eggs, and milk on the counter. “You should be resting.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder, an easy laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

“You know I don’t like to rest, Luci. I need to be doing something—always,” he said, his golden eyes dancing with amusement.

Lucifer’s chest tightened. He didn’t know that. He didn’t know this about Adam. The realization settled over him, heavy and unsettling. There were layers, entire dimensions of this man, that Lucifer hadn’t known in his former life. His voice softened as he reached forward, taking Adam’s hand in his own.

“We could just… call for a servant to do it. You don’t need to strain yourself.”

Adam’s brows arched. “Servant? What servants?”

Lucifer blinked, caught off guard. “I… well, I mean, I assumed…”

He trailed off, searching for an explanation. “I could conjure whatever you want to eat. It’d be nothing.”

But instead of agreeing, Adam laughed again, a sound so pure and sweet it made Lucifer’s heart clench. Adam reached up, gently patting Lucifer’s cheek. “Oh, Luci, you always know how to make me laugh. But you know I don’t like it when you use your magic for things I can do myself.”

Lucifer’s gaze held a flicker of confusion. He wasn’t joking, yet somehow, without even intending it, he’d managed to make Adam laugh.

“But, I just… I really want you to rest,” he muttered, shifting his weight, his hooves shuffling on the floor. “You’re six months pregnant, Adam. You should be taking it easy.”

Adam’s gaze softened; his expression so tender that Lucifer felt his resolve begin to melt away.

“Luci, we’ve talked about this,” Adam murmured, reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. The warmth of Adam’s hand in his own was grounding, an anchor in this unfamiliar world.

“Cooking… it makes me happy,” Adam continued, his voice filled with gentle reassurance. “It’s how I show my love. And I know you get worried, but you don’t have to. I’m alright. I’m stronger this time.”

Lucifer swallowed, his gaze lingering on their intertwined hands. The love and confidence in Adam’s tone soothed something restless within him. This Adam was gentle but unwavering, full of strength yet tender—a warmth Lucifer hadn’t dared let himself imagine before. Lucifer took a shaky breath, squeezing Adam’s hand, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I… I guess I just want to make sure everything’s perfect for you,” he whispered, his voice raw with an honesty he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. “This… everything about this—about you—means more to me than I can even say.”

Adam’s smile widened, and he reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair back from Lucifer’s face. “I know, Luci. And that’s exactly why it already is perfect.”

Lucifer’s face flushed, his heart racing as he let Adam’s hand slip from his, watching as he returned to the counter with that gentle, devoted smile. Standing there, seeing Adam pour love and care into every movement, Lucifer felt a new determination settle in his chest.

He would protect this, Lucifer vowed silently to himself, this world, this life, this love.

He would do whatever it took to keep it safe, and perhaps, just maybe, let himself believe he truly deserved it.

Lucifer slipped around Adam with practiced finesse, his fingers closing around the bowl before Adam could react.

"How about I make breakfast for a change?" he suggested, his voice smooth and enticing as he flashed Adam a charming, radiant grin—the kind that could melt anyone’s heart.

Adam raised a sceptical eyebrow, not in the least bit swayed. He snorted, reaching to reclaim the bowl. "Oh, really? And what exactly would you make, hm?"

With a playful wink, Lucifer twirled out of Adam’s reach, holding the bowl just out of reach.

"Only my specialty... pancakes!" he announced with an exaggerated flourish.

Adam’s laugh was pure and warm, bubbling up despite his efforts to keep a straight face. “Pancakes, you say? But Luci, you can’t cook."

Lucifer's face morphed into a mock expression of scandalized surprise. "What? Of course I can! I'm an amazing cook!"

Adam laughed harder, clutching his side as if to contain the joyful sound.

“Oh, Luci…” he managed between giggles. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you tried? Whatever that was supposed to be, it ended up… well, let’s just say it was a bit of a disaster. Black as a hockey puck."

Lucifer pouted, folding his arms in playful indignation. Then, as he caught sight of Adam’s still-giggling face, he let his pout melt into an amused, toothy grin. Ah, so it seems his other self couldn’t cook to save his life. How fascinating.

His eyes glinting with devilish excitement. “But, trust me, I’ve been practicing.”

Adam narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms as he tried to look stern, though his smile betrayed him. "Alright, alright. I suppose I’ll give my lovable husband a chance."

Lucifer practically skipped with joy. "Wonderful! Now, go sit down, put those feet up, and let me take care of everything!"

He leaned in and pecked Adam on the cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin linger against his lips. "Trust me, Addie—you’re going to love this."

Adam let out a resigned sigh, but his eyes were filled with affection as he settled himself at the small kitchen table, resting his hands on his belly. His sceptical smile followed Lucifer as he moved back to the counter, fully claiming the kitchen as his temporary domain. As he glanced back, Lucifer’s heart skipped—a sight that, for all his centuries, felt thrilling and entirely new.

Determined to impress, Lucifer turned to the stove, summoning a light flicker of flames with a single snap of his fingers. He poured flour and cracked eggs with careful focus, hoping his newly claimed cooking confidence wasn’t just bluster. As he whisked the batter, he stole a glance over his shoulder to see Adam watching him with quiet amusement.

There was a softness in Adam’s gaze as he observed Lucifer’s every move, as though watching someone he loved and trusted implicitly. And for the first time, the weight of that trust hit Lucifer with stunning clarity. Here was a man who knew his every flaw and, despite everything, still loved him fully, without hesitation.

After a few moments, Lucifer poured the batter onto the sizzling pan, smiling as the pancakes began to rise and golden, filling the kitchen with the faint, sweet scent of vanilla. He added a bit of flair, flipping each pancake high into the air, turning just enough to catch Adam’s eye. Adam’s chuckle was immediate, and the warmth it sparked in Lucifer’s chest was indescribable.

When the pancakes were finally done, Lucifer arranged them on a plate, meticulously layering them with a pat of butter and a drizzle of syrup, along with a handful of fresh berries he found tucked away in the fridge. He set the plate down before Adam, who looked at him with eyebrows raised in surprise and amusement.

“There you go, Addie,” Lucifer said, sliding into the seat across from him and looking at him expectantly. “The finest pancakes in all of Hell, made by yours truly.”

Adam lifted a fork, spearing a bite of pancake with a hum of approval as he took his first taste. A look of surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by delight. "Oh, Luci… these are actually good!"

Lucifer preened under the compliment, his grin widening. “See? What did I tell you? Only the best for my beautiful Queen~”

Adam leaned forward, reaching across the table to brush his hand over Lucifer’s. "Thank you, Luci. It’s perfect."

Lucifer’s heart skipped again, his pulse thrumming in a way it hadn’t in centuries. He squeezed Adam’s hand, the realization dawning on him all over again: he was living in a world he never knew he wanted, with a love he’d never dared believe he deserved.

In this life, every moment was something precious, and he vowed then and there to cherish every single one.

As Lucifer watched Adam from across the table, every glance, every subtle movement of his was a treasure. He leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand, careful not to let his curiosity spill over into suspicion. He wanted to drink in this new life, to savour the unfamiliar tenderness between him and Adam, and he was desperate for more details.

"So, what’s the plan for today?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

Adam’s face lit up immediately.

“Charlie invited me to her hotel!” He beamed; eyes sparkling. “I’m really excited to go!”

The mention of Charlie sent a thrill through Lucifer. His grin spread wide, his mind spinning with questions. Charlie had opened her hotel here too—had it succeeded? What was it like in this world? Was her vision the same as in his own? His heart pounded with anticipation.

"That's wonderful, Addie," he said warmly, eager to learn more but reining himself in. "You know, I’d love to see Charlie too. It’s been… too long."

Adam tilted his head, a bit of confusion creasing his brow.

“You’re… okay with me going, right?” he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”

Lucifer chuckled, surprised. “Why wouldn’t I be? She’s our baby girl, after all. I’d never stop you from seeing her.”

Relief washed over Adam’s face, and he released a soft laugh. “Oh, that’s good! I was worried you’d get mad…”

Lucifer’s smile slipped ever so slightly, something prickling at the back of his mind. “W-why would I be mad?”

Adam’s gaze dropped to his lap, his expression clouding over.

“It’s just… after the last time I left the mansion…” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

A pang of protectiveness surged in Lucifer, but he held himself back, sensing it was a sensitive subject for Adam. He offered a gentle smile instead, brushing his fingers over Adam’s hand.

“Well,” he said softly, “You’ll be with Charlie. I’m sure she’ll keep an eye on you.”

Adam’s face brightened at that, a grin breaking through the worry. “That’s true! Charlie’s got a good head on her shoulders. Besides, I miss her so much. She’s been so busy with… with the redeemed souls.”

Lucifer’s breath caught. Redeemed souls?

His eyes widened just slightly, the implications overwhelming. Had Charlie actually managed to redeem souls in this world? How had Hell—how had Heaven—reacted? His mind buzzed with a thousand questions, each one more urgent than the last. But he kept his expression calm, pretending as if this was all perfectly normal.

“I really wish you could come too…” Adam’s voice pulled him from his racing thoughts, his words laced with a faint sadness.

Lucifer felt his chest ache, wanting to join him, to witness this new version of Hell alongside his family.

“Why can’t I?” he asked, his tone almost teasing.

Adam arched a brow, giving him a knowing smile. “Luci, you know you can’t just cancel another meeting. I know how you feel about running Hell, but with all the changes going on, it’s… important, right?”

Lucifer quickly nodded, mimicking the confidence he assumed his counterpart would’ve had.

“Of course,” he said, his voice steady. “I can’t neglect my duties.”

Adam let out a quiet sigh, his eyes dropping to the plate of half-eaten pancakes. “Just… don’t work yourself too hard, alright? We hardly have time together as it is, and… I miss you.”

There was a vulnerability in Adam’s tone that struck something deep within Lucifer, a quiet ache that told of lonely nights and missed moments.

He reached across the table, letting his hand rest over Adam’s. “I promise, Addie. I’ll make time. For us.”

Adam’s eyes softened as he squeezed Lucifer’s hand.

“You better,” he teased gently. “Because once this little one’s here, they’re going to want a lot of time with their father.”

Lucifer's heart clenched at the mention of the child—their child. A sudden wave of protectiveness and tenderness washed over him, and he fought to keep his voice steady. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Adam's smile returned, warmer and brighter. "Good. You’d better keep that promise, Luci.”

They finished breakfast in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken words lingering in the air. As Adam cleared the plates, Lucifer couldn’t help but steal another glance, his mind awash with the marvels of this new life. This world was everything he hadn’t known he wanted, a world where love and redemption were not merely ideas, but truths shaping their lives.

He’d do anything to stay here, to see what other beautiful moments were yet to unfold.

...there was only one problem.

What has happened to the other Lucifer?

[tvkissercentral]

To Be Desired

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Based on prompt 22 of AdamsApple Harvest, praise kink. When Adam feels insecure about his weight, Lucifer is there to reassure him that he loves his body just the way it is. Content warning: Yes, this is the steamy smut chapter. Feel free to skip it if NSFW is not your thing.

I apologize for finishing my prompts so late. Mental health and life have gotten in the way, but I have not abandoned my prompts or this fic, and will hopefully complete my last prompt soon!

[pinksunsetsandstarrynights]

Adamsapple Harvest: Urban Legends

So this fill has nothing to do with the Human AU I wrote about in my other fills. I got the idea for this one while watching a Papa Meat video about asylums and one of the images in the video looked quite different from the corner of my eye...

Just a heads-up the Adamsapple is very light in this one.

"Remember to watch where you step," Adam warned his younger cousin, "and keep your grip on your flashlight, Butterfingers!"

"I'm not going to drop it," Peter answered back, annoyed. "I drop one of Emily's figurines one time…"

"I mean it, Peter. These abandoned places can be dangerous if you're not careful." Adam was really starting to wish that Emily hadn't insisted that he let Peter tag along for some "much needed family bonding."

Yeah, right.

Adam knew she just wanted her brother to be out the house so she could have a date over. It was good timing too since Aunt Sera would still be out of town for another day. Now normally Adam wouldn't mind helping Emily out so she could score some pussy, but he wasn’t checking out an old house this time.

It was a three story mental asylum miles outside of town with a long history of malpractice and patient death until it finally closed its doors sixty years ago thanks to a basement fire. The kids trying to scare their friends liked to say that the fire was the result of dark rituals that used the patients as sacrifices. Obviously that was bullshit. The story that the adults liked to gossip about was that it was arson, done to collect insurance on the property.

In Adam’s opinion, it was caused by probably the most overlooked and boring theory: an electrical fire that got out of hand. The asylum had become more run down in its later years, so faulty wiring wouldn't be unexpected.

But whatever reasoning for the asylum's closure, it wasn't the kind of place anyone would take their skittish teenage cousin. And honestly, it wasn't the kind of place a braver person should visit alone either. Adam had been planning to explore the place with his best friend, Lute, but she bailed on him at the very last minute. Just before Emily suggested that he take Peter instead.

It didn't take a genius to figure out why Lute changed her mind.

He wasn't mad about that, but damn it, Peter was not a good substitute. Adam wouldn't be surprised if their trip ended up being cut ridiculously short because Peter freaked out over some rats scurrying around. And if it did, then Lute was going to owe him big time.

---

It was so far so good, surprisingly.

There wasn't much inside, most of the furniture was gone. Strangely, there was no graffiti indoors, even though the outside was tagged to hell. Adam guessed that the stories were enough to keep taggers from actually going inside. Peter was still looking anxious, but when he was asked if he wanted to wait in the car, he insisted on staying.

Whatever. As long as Peter didn't start screaming his ear off, Adam will ignore the teenager's obvious trembling.

Less natural light was shining through the windows and the flashlights were now being kept on. Sunset was coming, so they would have to leave soon. But there was one more place Adam wanted to get a look at first...

"The basement-?!" Peter cried out before stifling himself, his eyes darting around the administration office. "But Adam," he continued in a frightened whisper, "that's where they killed those poor people for blood sacrifices!"

For fuck’s sake…

"Dude, there were no evil rituals in the basement. There's no such thing as black magic," Adam firmly told him. "The only creepy shit that happened here was just normal shitty people doing fucked up treatments and that ended years ago."

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"Look, how about we both go down the staircase together and if you see anything before we get off the stairs, we'll turn right around and go home. Sound fair?"

"…I'm not going into the basement even if I don't see anything, " Peter stated quietly.

"Then you don't have to. Just stay on the stairs and shine some extra light for me."

Peter agreed and surprisingly took the lead down the staircase. "So I can keep an eye out better."

They took it slow, much to Adam's chagrin. At this rate, it was going to be pitch black outside by the time they leave. After fucking forever, Peter reached the bottom of the staircase, the beam of his flashlight moved frantically around the basement before suddenly freezing on one spot.

"Uh, Peter...?" Adam asked. "Do you see something?"

Peter didn't answer, instead turning around and shoving Adam out of his way back up the stairs.

Adam ended up tripping on the final steps and landed hard onto the floor. Pain lit up his senses as the taste of iron filled his mouth. The sound of Peter's retreating steps was echoing in his ears.

Did that fucker seriously just shove him and leave him here?! Adam huffed, yeah he so wasn't contributing to Peter's college fund after this bullshit. Fucking asshole.

He got himself back onto his feet, ignoring the stinging on his palms and knees. It was dark as hell here. Thankfully there was a beam of light cutting through the dark. Adam was lucky his flashlight didn’t shut off from the fall. He spat out the blood in his mouth and took a few steps toward the light. He grabbed his flashlight and aimed the beam around the basement. Now what did Peter see that made him bolt out like that. It better not have been a damn piece of burnt furniture...

That wasn't burnt furniture.

Adam felt sick. His heart began to race and his hands became clammy.

Furniture wasn't made up of charred bones.

Oh god, he could see a face...

There was fresh, red blood right on its lips, the stretched skin of which were frozen in mid-wail. Fuck his life, he desecrated a corpse...

Alright, Adam, just stay calm. You just need to get out of here and then you can call 911 to report the body. Okay? That's the game plan. Now turn around and leave.

What was that?

D-did those fingers just twitch...?

No, he's just stressed. It's not everyday you find a body. He should probably stop looking at-

Adam dropped his flashlight and took off running back toward the stairs.

Corpses don't lick blood off their lips!

He practically flew up the steps and didn't stop running once he reached the top. He needed to get the fuck out of here. There was still just enough sunlight that Adam could see where he was going.

Right.

Left.

Left.

He can see the front lobby!

His lungs were burning, but that didn't matter. He only needed ten more feet to reach freedom!

Adam's fingers skimmed the door knob of the exit.

So close!

Strong limbs wrapped themselves around him and yanked him back.

"Nooo!" Adam yelled, hope snatched away at the last possible second.

He stumbled onto his ass and before he could even try to get up, a hand - so pale that it practically glowed under the growing shadows - covered his mouth.

Adam moaned in despair. He was going to die in this shithole.

"Shhh… I won't hurt you, I won't hurt you," the voice, a harsh rasp from disuse and thirst, whispered. "I only want to make you scream."

Adam didn't believe it. He whimpered, and struggled some more. He knew no one would be coming to save him.

"Shhh... You'll love it," The creature murmured in his ear before licking the tears off Adam’s cheek, making him shudder. "My savior."

Adam's screams echoed throughout the asylum that night, left unheard by his cousin as he ran down the dirt road back toward civilization.

[inubaki]

-free day

based off @rainforestakiie Bonefire stories…because I crave closure!!

[rainforestakiie]

Just asking because I love your fanfics of Adamsapple, but I am just wondering if you ever going to write lesbian Adamsapple .

Not that you have too ! I am just wondering :) (if it's not your cup of coffee, that's okay !)

sending adamsapple vibes to you :)

hi!

thank you for the request! i have written lesbian pairs in the past! so no worries!

i hope you don't mind, i used this for my next prompt~ i really hope you like it! i worked so hard on it and i think it's so cute!

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Halloween Party~

@adamsappleweek

The Hyacinth family had just settled into Salem, Massachusetts, a town her mother called "the heart of witchcraft" with a voice thick with reverence. To Adam, nicknamed Adelle, though, it was just a place, its mythical tales and whispered legends as hollow as childhood stories. Magic and witches, as far as she was concerned, were relics of overactive imaginations, nothing more.

Her mother, however, adored these legends—so much so that she even called herself a "white witch," casting mock spells and filling the air with laughter, as though she held some secret knowledge of spells and potions. Adelle sighed, her gaze drifting toward the view from her new bedroom window.

The house itself was ancient, a looming relic from the days of the infamous witch trials. It creaked and groaned in a way that might’ve unsettled anyone else, but her mother loved it, claiming it practically sang to her the moment she laid eyes on it. Outside, the streets of Salem were already cloaked in a Halloween charm, even though October’s end was still a week away. The decorations were woven through the town with a zealous dedication that made Adelle roll her eyes. Every lamp post held tiny jack-o'-lanterns, their carved faces glowing in eerie, flickering orange light, as though they were whispering secrets to each other. Paper bats hung from trees and telephone wires, their wings swaying with every gust of wind, casting fluttering shadows on the cobblestone streets below.

The store windows along the main street were alive with decorations, too—glittering witches’ hats, fake cobwebs with thick, glistening threads, and cauldrons bubbling with misty fog from carefully hidden smoke machines. Orange and yellow banners danced across the length of every building, their fabric rippling like flames in the chill autumn breeze. Salem was fully enchanted by the spirit of Halloween, embracing it like a second heartbeat.

Just as Adelle’s gaze traced the flickering jack-o'-lanterns one last time, her bedroom door swung open, and in drifted her mother with the effortless, theatrical grace she seemed to embody. Her long, wild curls, dyed a deep purple, tumbled down her shoulders like an enchanted cascade, bouncing as she moved.

"Adelle," her mother exclaimed, her voice a mixture of mischief and glee, “Your room is positively bare! How can you live like this? We need to bring some spirit in here!”

Adelle eyed the cardboard box her mother had placed on the floor, frowning as she crossed her arms.

“No thanks,” she replied, her tone flat.

The thought of her room being smothered with the same decorations she saw all over town felt exhausting. But her mother’s eyes sparkled with a glint that suggested she might have other plans.

Adelle's mother clucked her tongue, undeterred by her daughter’s reluctance. She knelt beside the cardboard box, lifting its flaps with the careful enthusiasm of someone unearthing buried treasure. From within, she pulled out strands of twinkling fairy lights shaped like little pumpkins and a velvet black garland that sparkled with flecks of silver.

“Come on, honey, we could at least hang these,” she coaxed, draping the garland over her shoulders like a feather boa. “Imagine—your room could look like a magical hideaway, just for Halloween!”

Adelle slouched further; her arms crossed tight over her chest. "No thanks, Mom."

Her mother’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly, the pumpkin lights dangling limply from her hands. She let out a wistful sigh.

“You know,” she began, her voice softer, laced with nostalgia, “When you were little, you loved Halloween. You used to wear the cutest costumes.”

Her eyes sparkled as memories drifted back. “I’ll never forget the year you dressed as a duck—oh, the fluffiest little duckling waddling around the neighbourhood!”

Adelle groaned, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a little kid anymore,” she muttered, turning back toward the window, resting her chin on her arms as she looked out over the decorated street. The gentle sway of the paper bats, the soft glow of jack-o'-lanterns—it was all perfectly charming, she supposed. Just not for her.

Her mother sighed again, the longing in her expression clear. She sat down on the edge of Adelle’s bed, looking at her daughter with a blend of sadness and affection.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re growing up,” she said quietly. “But sometimes, it’s nice to hold on to a little magic.”

She glanced down at the pumpkin lights, the glow of nostalgia making her look younger. “I guess I just miss the way things used to be.”

Adelle’s resolve wavered as she caught her mother’s wistful gaze reflected in the window. Halloween used to mean something more, didn’t it? She just couldn’t remember what.

Adelle shrugged, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Yeah, well… things change. They kind of had to after Dad.”

Her mother flinched, her face falling for a split second before she composed herself, brushing a lock of purple hair behind her ear.

“Please, Adelle,” she murmured, the strain clear in her voice. “I’m trying. You’ve got to meet me halfway here.”

Adelle didn’t respond, simply resting her chin on her folded arms, her gaze fixed on the Halloween-lit street outside. Her mother sighed deeply, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of it.

"Listen," she said after a long pause, "there’s a Halloween party tonight—just a small one, at the town hall. You should go. It’s a good chance to meet people your age, maybe make some friends."

Adelle’s eyebrows knitted together as she scoffed. “It’s not even Halloween yet. Halloween’s next week. Why are they having a party now?”

Her mother offered a gentle smile, an expression that held both amusement and a hint of pleading. “Because, sweetheart, that’s just how Salem is. Halloween starts early here, and everyone loves it. They celebrate for weeks.”

Adelle’s lips twisted into a reluctant frown. She could already feel the layers of arguments building up. “Mom, I really don’t want to go. Parties aren’t my thing, and I’d rather just… stay here.”

Her mother clasped her hands together, giving Adelle the wide-eyed, pleading look that had somehow managed to persuade her in years past. “Adelle, please, just give it a try. You might end up liking it here, but you have to actually get out there and see the town—meet people! I promise, it won’t be so bad if you just let yourself have a little fun.”

Adelle crossed her arms tightly over her chest, her voice hardening. “Fun? Mom, what am I supposed to wear? I don’t have a costume, and I’m not just going to throw on some random outfit.”

With a sly smile, her mother glanced down at the box, nudging it toward Adelle with her foot.

“That’s why we brought these along,” she said, her tone a mix of playfulness and determination. "There’s bound to be something here that you can use."

Adelle groaned deeply, her face scrunching up in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

She glanced into the box, catching sight of mismatched fairy wings, glittering masks, and a feathery witch’s hat that looked suspiciously homemade. The thought of putting any of it on made her cringe, but her mother’s eyes glinted with hope, as though this one small gesture could make all the difference.

With a reluctant sigh, Adelle glanced back at her mother, who was waiting with bated breath, a soft, hopeful smile dancing on her lips. She might just have to meet her halfway after all.

Adelle sighed as she fastened the simple black cloak around her shoulders, letting the dark fabric drape to her knees. The costume was as plain as she could get away with—just a simple black dress, a pointed hat with a slightly bent tip, and a thin cloak that trailed behind her. There was nothing sparkly or dramatic, just plain black and white, understated, and perfectly unremarkable. Her mother clapped her hands, her eyes shining with excitement. “You’re going to have a wonderful time, Adelle,” she insisted with a warm smile, as if sheer optimism could magically conjure up a perfect night. Adelle wasn’t so sure, but she forced a strained smile and waved back awkwardly before stepping out into the crisp evening air.

She walked slowly, her footsteps echoing along the winding walkway as she moved down from her house. When she reached the top of the street, Adelle stopped in her tracks, watching as other people her age, but dressed in elaborate costumes—filtered toward a towering white mansion at the end of the street. She felt a pang of dread as she looked at them, each wearing intricate, dazzling costumes that seemed almost too perfect. They walked in groups, laughing easily, glancing back over their shoulders to share in some private joke. Adelle, alone and feeling like an outsider, hesitated. Part of her debated turning around, marching right back to her house, and shutting the door on all this forced Halloween cheer.

But when she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw her mother standing on the doorstep, watching her with that hopeful, encouraging smile that Adelle couldn’t shake. The moment their eyes met, her mother gave an eager wave, silently urging her to keep going. Adelle rolled her eyes, muttering to herself, but she sighed and trudged forward, dragging her feet as she joined the throng headed for the party.

When she finally reached the house, her mouth dropped open despite herself. It was huge, like something straight out of a fairytale—a sprawling, three-story mansion with tall, arched windows and white columns that rose up like the spines of some ancient, regal creature. The place was breathtaking, painted a pristine white that seemed to glow beneath the moonlight, its walls adorned with garlands of dried corn husks and glimmering strands of fairy lights woven into the banisters. Whoever lived here had gone all out.

The front lawn was a Halloween wonderland, lined with pumpkins of every size and shape, each one carved with expert precision. Some had intricate, swirling designs; others had faces so detailed they almost seemed alive, as if they might start whispering secrets any moment. A graveyard scene sprawled across the lawn, complete with fake tombstones that were chipped and mossy-looking, as though they'd been ripped straight out of a Gothic novel. Gnarled, bare-branched trees wrapped in fake spider webs stood on either side of the path, and tiny plastic spiders hung from invisible threads, swaying gently in the breeze. The smell of autumn leaves and warm cinnamon floated through the air, adding to the eerily enchanting atmosphere. Even the wrought-iron gate looked like something out of an old, haunted manor, its metal twisted into delicate curls and loops, catching the light from nearby lanterns that flickered softly, casting long shadows across the ground.

Adelle stood there, her heart sinking as she looked around, feeling painfully out of place in her modest costume. She was just the quiet, bookish girl—the one who never got invited to anything, who spent her weekends buried in novels or working on her latest project. This wasn’t her world. The dread in her stomach twisted tighter as she watched the other teenager’s stream through the front doors, their laughter echoing off the mansion’s walls. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong here. Her mom may have forced her to come, but… was she even invited? What if she stepped inside only to get strange looks or—worse—be asked to leave?

She swallowed hard, the weight of nerves pressing down on her. Maybe no one would even notice her, she thought with a hollow feeling. But just as she was about to turn and leave, something stopped her, a strange pull toward the house she couldn’t quite explain. Taking a deep breath, she hesitated, looking up at the glowing mansion one last time before slowly making her way to the entrance, each step heavy with uncertainty.

Adelle pushed through the crowded doorway and stepped into a whirlwind of noise, lights, and chaos. The house was packed with people, some crammed into the living room where music blared from giant speakers, shaking the floor with a bass-heavy beat. Others were sprawled across couches or clustered in corners, holding plastic Halloween-themed cups decorated with cartoon ghosts and bats. Some people balanced two or even three cups each, while one guy she passed was laughing wildly, juggling four cups in his hands before losing balance and spilling half of one on the carpet. She felt herself shrink under the flashing lights, her small, simple costume a stark contrast to the bold, glamorous, and often risqué outfits around her.

She moved awkwardly through the throng, feeling as out of place as ever. In one corner, she spotted a group of college-aged guys setting up a beer bong, chanting and clapping as someone took a turn. Another girl in a glittery devil costume and a guy dressed as a pirate shared a sloppy kiss in the middle of the room, oblivious to everyone around them. Adelle clenched her jaw, her face heating up in embarrassment. She had never been to a party like this before.

She was still trying to figure out where she might escape to when a tall guy with tousled hair stumbled into her path, flashing her a lopsided grin.

"Hey," he shouted over the music, his voice barely cutting through the noise.

Adelle tried to respond, mumbling a quiet “hi,” but he leaned in, clearly unable to hear her. Before she could say anything else, he shrugged and pushed one of his cups into her hand with a wink, then disappeared back into the crowd. Adelle looked down at the cup in her hand, the liquid inside a murky mix of brown and orange. She lifted it to her nose, cringing at the strong, sour smell.

"I'm such a weirdo," she muttered to herself before taking a small sip. The bitter taste hit her tongue, making her grimace, and she quickly glanced around before tipping the rest into a fake potted plant when she was sure no one was looking.

She wandered through the party aimlessly, just trying to make it through at least an hour before she could slip out without feeling guilty. Eventually, she found herself in the kitchen, where another small group had gathered around a large, ornate punch bowl. The punch inside was an eerie shade of green, glowing slightly under the dim lights. The whole scene seemed like something out of a cheesy horror movie. She was about to turn and leave when a voice rang out behind her.

"Hey, you!"

Adelle froze, slowly turning to see a girl with platinum blonde hair and a silver tiara fixed on her head. She looked every bit the part of a fairy-tale princess, though her eyes glinted with an edge that told Adelle she was no damsel.

 “Yes, you,” the girl continued, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t recognize you, and I definitely don’t remember inviting you to my party. Are you new or something?”

Adelle’s face burned with mortification as she realized all eyes in the kitchen were now on her. She stammered, unsure of what to say, feeling smaller and more out of place with each second that passed. One of the other girls, dressed in a cat costume with thick, dark hair and a smirk on her face, leaned into her friend’s shoulder, snickering.

“Oh my God. She’s a party crasher. How adorable.”

Adelle tried to find her voice but only managed a soft, “I… I’m really sorry… I just moved here, and my mom, she, um, thought I should come.”

The blonde girl, who Adelle realized must be the host, clicked her tongue and nodded thoughtfully.

“Oh, you must be the Hyacinth girl?” She turned to her friends and waved a dismissive hand. “Chill out, guys. My dad invited her mom to the party or something—guess they work together.”

One of the other girls, with wild red curls and a smug grin, wrinkled her nose.

“Ew, handouts,” she sneered, crossing her arms.

The blonde girl rolled her eyes, seeming almost exasperated. She stepped forward, offering Adelle a small smile that seemed to say she was at least somewhat sympathetic.

“I’m Lilith, by the way,” she said. “You’re cool to hang out if you want. Don’t mind the heckling frogs over there—they’re just drunk.”

She motioned to the two other girls, who both flipped her off in unison, though they seemed amused.

Lilith continued the introductions, gesturing to the others around the room.

 “That’s Eve,” she pointed to the redhead girl, “And Selena. The guys are Marcus, Steve, Luke, and Tony.”

One of the guys, a lanky boy with a wry grin, raised his beer in a lazy salute.

Eve, who was still leaning into Selena’s side, peered at Adelle curiously. “What’s your name then, new girl?”

Adelle managed a half-smile, her cheeks still warm with embarrassment. “Uh… I’m Adam.”

Her name hung in the air for a moment, and the girls blinked in surprise while the boys snickered. One of them, Steve, who was sitting on the kitchen counter with a can of beer, leaned forward with a smirk.

“Isn’t that a guy’s name?”

Adelle’s blush deepened as she shrugged, feeling painfully exposed. “I mean… yeah? I don’t know. It’s just what my parents called me. but I'm called Adelle as a nickname for it.”

How stupid. Why did she give them her real name?

Selena snickered, nudging Eve with her elbow. “Whoa, her parents wanted a boy that much?”

Eve chuckled, while Adelle stared down at her feet, wishing the ground would just open and swallow her whole.

Lilith shot her friends an exasperated look, her brow furrowing. “Guys, stop it. Don’t pick on her. She’s new—give her a chance.”

Before Adelle could thank her, Marcus, a tall guy with a lazy smile, pulled Lilith into his side, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Aw, you’re too sweet, Lils,” he cooed, half-mocking. Lilith rolled her eyes, but she leaned into him with a small, almost smug smile, clearly enjoying his attention.

Adelle tried to relax, still feeling like a fish out of water. She could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, waiting to see if she’d prove to be as awkward as she seemed or if she might surprise them somehow.

Adelle lingered awkwardly on the edges of the group, trying not to look as out of place as she felt. Lilith glanced over at her, sensing her unease, and offered a soft smile.

“So, what brought you to Salem?” she asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Where’d you move from?”

Caught off guard by the friendliness in Lilith’s voice, Adelle relaxed just a little. “Oh, uh… we moved from a small town up north. My mom wanted a change.”

“She loves… all this witch stuff,” she admitted, waving a hand vaguely to indicate the Halloween decor and the general spooky atmosphere that filled the house.

Lilith chuckled. “You’ll fit right in then. Salem’s all about the witchy vibe. People here go all out, especially around Halloween.”

Adelle smiled, feeling herself start to ease up. Lilith seemed nice, a little snarky but welcoming enough. For a moment, she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could find a place here. But then, Eve piped up from behind her, and the conversation took a turn.

“Oh, speaking of witches… Morningstar, anyone?” Eve said, her voice lilting with mischief as she smirked at Lilith.

Adelle noticed the way Lilith’s face lost its colour just slightly, her confident expression faltering.

Selena, standing beside Eve, let out a loud laugh. “Yeah, remember how terrified you used to be, Lil? You actually thought Morningstar was real and was gonna yank you out of bed by your ankles!”

Lilith flushed, trying to keep a straight face but clearly embarrassed.

“Oh, shut up!” she protested, crossing her arms. “You were the one hiding under my bed and grabbing my ankles! You would’ve believed she was real, too!”

The group erupted into laughter, and Adelle found herself smiling, though she was utterly lost. Curiosity got the best of her, and she hesitantly asked, “So… who’s Morningstar?”

The laughter died down, and Lilith let out a resigned sigh. “Oh, she’s just a legend around here. A story to scare the kids, y’know?”

She rolled her eyes, but Adelle could sense a hint of discomfort in her expression.

“She’s more than just a story,” Eve said, grinning mischievously. “She’s the witch of Salem. The most famous one.”

Eve’s eyes gleamed as she poured herself another cup of punch. “Legend says she used to lure children to her house to suck out their souls. And her house? It’s a museum now, right across the street.”

Adelle felt a strange chill creep up her spine as Eve went on. There was something almost too eager in her tone.

Lilith took a step closer, arms folded, as she began to explain. “So, the story goes like this: In 1693, Morningstar was accused of witchcraft and executed for, well… stealing the life force of children to stay young and beautiful. She was said to be the most beautiful girl in Salem. Men would line up to propose, but she refused them all.”

“Which probably didn’t sit well with the men of the time,” Eve chimed in with a smirk. “Women back then didn’t just stay single. If you were pretty, you were expected to marry and, you know, ‘pop out some kids.’”

Selena let out a low, wicked laugh. “Rumour has it she even turned down the mayor’s son. That was the real reason they called her a witch.”

She rolled her eyes as if the notion were ridiculous but still somehow thrilling.

Lilith continued, her tone dropping to an ominous whisper. “And before her execution, she supposedly cursed the town. Said she’d come back if a virgin ever lit the Black Flame Candle on Halloween night. She’d rise from the dead and make Salem crumble. But, honestly…”

She shrugged. “She probably just said that to mess with people.”

The group chuckled, but Adelle stayed silent, a strange knot of unease forming in her stomach. She couldn’t tell if it was the way they were speaking or just her own overactive imagination, but the story left her feeling strangely cold.

Eve, noticing Adelle’s quietness, grinned slyly and slinked over, poking Adelle’s side. “Oh, don’t tell me. You’re scared, aren’t you, new girl?”

She gave a mock shiver, cackling as the others began to snicker.

Adelle shook her head quickly, face heating up. “I’m not scared. It’s just… it’s just a story, right?”

Selena sneered, nudging Eve and mimicking Adelle in a high-pitched, mocking tone. “‘It’s just a story.’”

The group burst into laughter, and Adelle’s cheeks grew warmer as she shifted her gaze to the floor, desperately wishing she hadn’t said anything.

Lilith stepped forward, but her voice had lost the friendliness it had held earlier. Now it was laced with a condescending edge.

 “Of course it’s just a story, Adelle. Morningstar isn’t going to pop out of the shadows and drag you away.” She smirked as the group laughed harder, casting sly, mocking glances at Adelle.

Adelle swallowed, her mind racing. The teasing stung, but she forced herself to keep her chin up, meeting their gaze as evenly as she could manage. “I’m not scared,” she said quietly but firmly.

Eve snickered, raising her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, if you’re not scared, then you wouldn’t mind going to the museum, right?”

Her tone was dripping with challenge, and the others leaned in, watching Adelle expectantly.

Adelle hesitated, the knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “I… I mean, I don’t know…”

Selena gave her a mocking pout. “Aww, what’s wrong?”

“Too spooked?” she taunted; her voice sugary-sweet but laced with mockery.

Adelle felt something harden inside her, a flash of defiance flaring up as she straightened her back. She wasn’t going to let them get to her.

“I’m not scared,” she said firmly, her gaze steady. “Fine. Let’s go to the museum.”

The group shared amused looks.

Adelle trailed behind the group, her weary green eyes studying the other teenagers as they walked ahead, whispering and giggling among themselves. A chill ran down her spine, the night air growing colder as they moved further away from the safety of the warm, bustling house. She felt a mix of excitement and dread; she had only just moved to Salem and didn’t know her way around. What if she couldn’t find her way back later?

Eventually, they stopped in front of what must be the oldest building in Salem. The house loomed before them, an ancient structure with weathered black and white siding that seemed to lean slightly, as if it were trying to tell her secrets long forgotten. The windows were dark, with long-dried vines snaking around them, and a crooked black wooden gate marked the entrance to a wildflower garden that thrived chaotically. The flowers were vibrant, bursting with colour against the eerie backdrop of the house, but they only added to the witchy atmosphere that surrounded the place. The garden looked as though it hadn’t seen a gardener in years, but that only added to the allure, the sense of magic and mystery that hung thick in the air.

Adelle stood by the wooden fence, staring at the house with wide eyes, biting her bottom lip anxiously. Her heart began to pound with a thrilling fear she had never experienced before, a mix of excitement and the kind of apprehension that comes from being on the brink of something unknown. The group continued to giggle and push each other playfully, their laughter echoing against the silence of the night. Lilith turned to Adelle, her smile bright and inviting as she patted Adelle’s arm.

“Come on then, let’s go inside!”

Adelle’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What? How? It looks closed!”

Steve snickered, leaning casually against the fence. “Trust us when we say a locked door has never stopped us before.”

Adelle swallowed thickly, glancing nervously at the looming structure. “You’ve… done this before?”

Eve flashed her a playful grin, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Of course! Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen.”

“Yeah,” Tony chimed in with a nonchalant shrug, “We’ve been sneaking into Morningstar’s museum for years. It’s no biggie.”

Adelle inhaled deeply, her stomach twisting. Lilith tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips. “Getting cold feet?”

She shook her head vigorously. “Of course not! I’ll be fine!”

Lilith’s smirk widened, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Okay then, come on! Let’s go in!”

When nobody else moved to follow Lilith, Adelle frowned, a sudden uncertainty creeping into her. “Is it just… us?”

Lilith raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Is something wrong with that?”

Adelle flushed, shaking her head quickly. “No, of course not! I mean, that’s fine, I just thought…”

Eve laughed, a light sound that cut through the tension. “Relax! We’ll be coming in afterward!”

Lilith gave Adelle a reassuring pat on the shoulder and easily climbed over the gate, which hung crookedly on its hinges. “It doesn’t open anymore; it’s like, nailed into the ground or something now.”

Adelle hesitated, glancing down at her long, ankle-length dress. She really didn’t want to chance climbing over the fence, but Lilith gave her a determined look. With a sigh, she pushed her thick, red and brown hair back and carefully climbed over, relieved when her skirt didn’t catch.

Lilith smirked as she led Adelle down the white stone path to the old wooden door, which looked decidedly wonky. Leaning against it, Lilith pulled a long pin from her hair, flipping it over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist.

“Just give me a second~” she cooed, pushing the needle into the lock and twisting it.

Adelle shifted nervously, glancing back at the others waiting behind the fence. Eve waved at her smugly while the others snickered, their laughter sharp and teasing.

“Um, are you sure you do this often?” Adelle asked weakly.

Lilith hummed as she continued to work on the door, twisting the knob until it clicked and swung open.

“Yep! All the time!” She grinned wickedly and stepped aside, gesturing for Adelle to go in. “After you~”

Adelle’s gaze flickered between Lilith and the dark doorway, her heart racing. Lilith beamed at her, and with a soft push, encouraged her further. “I’ll be right behind you, and then so will the gang.”

Taking a deep breath, Adelle nodded and shuffled forward, poking her head inside first before slowly stepping in. Her green eyes scanned the interior of the dimly lit building, trying to make sense of the shadows and shapes that surrounded her. Just as she turned to ask Lilith to follow her inside, the door slammed shut with a resounding thud, followed by an uproar of laughter from outside.

Panic surged through Adelle as she rushed back to the door, yanking the handle with desperation, but it wouldn’t budge. More laughter spilled from the other side, where Lilith’s voice rang out, filled with mockery. “We’ll let you out in the morning, Adelle! If Morningstar hasn’t sucked your soul out! She likes to eat the ugly ones!”

The laughter continued, and tears pricked the corners of Adelle’s eyes as she realized the cruel game they were playing. She pressed her forehead against the cool, solid wood, feeling utterly alone and scared. How had she let herself be dragged into this?

Adelle’s heart pounded, thudding loudly in the silence of the darkened room as she twisted and pulled at the old door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Lilith’s mocking laughter and Eve’s high-pitched giggles echoed through the thick wood, muffled but merciless. Adelle bit her lip, fighting against the prickling of tears that threatened to spill.

“You’ll be fine, new girl!” Lilith’s voice called mockingly through the door, laughter trailing behind. “If Morningstar’s real, maybe she’ll finally get a meal out of it! She likes the… ‘weird’ ones!”

More laughter, taunting and vicious, surged from the other side, mingling with the cool October wind. Adelle’s chest tightened as she pressed her forehead to the door, her fingers numb against the worn wood. She could barely make out their voices as they continued joking, their footsteps receding down the path and back toward the gate. They didn’t even look back.

Adelle swallowed hard, forcing down the rising panic. She took a slow, shuddering breath and turned to face the dark, her eyes adjusting slightly as she scanned the room. Dust coated everything—long-forgotten furniture cloaked in faded sheets, an ancient fireplace with scorched, splintered logs still resting inside, and eerie shadows cast by the faint slivers of moonlight filtering through a small, dusty window high above her head.

A low creak sounded from deeper within the house, and she froze, every muscle taut.

It’s probably just the house settling, she tried to convince herself. But the noise felt almost… intentional, like a warning whispered from somewhere unseen.

Taking another deep breath, Adelle reached out to steady herself on a wooden table by the door. The wood was rough under her fingers, brittle and dry, and as she brushed a layer of dust aside, her hand landed on something cold and metallic. She squinted in the faint light to make out a tarnished candelabra, its candles melted and hardened into strange, twisted shapes.

A sudden chill swept through the room, raising goosebumps along her arms as she shivered, her witch’s cloak doing little to shield her from the strange, unsettling cold. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, as though unseen eyes were tracking her every move from the darkened corners.

Forcing herself to step forward, she whispered aloud, more to comfort herself than anything.

“It’s just a house. An old, empty house.” Her voice was a frail whisper, swallowed by the heavy silence.

But as she turned to glance at a shadowed alcove, something caught her eye—a faint glimmer, hovering in the air. She squinted, trying to make sense of it, and realized it was a delicate, translucent thread floating down from the ceiling. She craned her neck to look up, and her breath hitched at the sight.

Carved into the darkened wood above her, a faint symbol glowed, flickering like a dying ember. It was an intricate design, like a knot twisted upon itself—a strange, ancient marking she didn’t recognize. Beneath it, words appeared to be carved into the wood, barely legible under the faint glow:

“Let those who trespass be warned: the soul is the price of arrogance.”

A chill prickled along her spine as her eyes traced the faint lines of the inscription. Her fingers itched to touch it, but she resisted, feeling an almost tangible sense of wrongness radiating from it.

A noise—a soft whisper, so quiet it was barely audible—drifted from somewhere deeper within the house. It sounded almost like a voice, a murmur in a language she couldn’t understand. Her heart pounded as she strained to listen, her pulse hammering louder with each passing second.

“Lilith?” she called out, even though she knew it was pointless. Her voice was barely more than a breath, swallowed by the shadows.

The whispering grew louder, accompanied by the faintest hint of a melody, ghostly and eerie, echoing through the empty halls. Adelle’s hands trembled as she took a step back, her eyes darting from one shadow to the next, convinced something was lurking just out of sight, watching her with cold, ancient eyes.

Swallowing her fear, she forced herself to think. There had to be a way out, some other door, a window she could pry open. She just had to find it and get out—away from this place that seemed to breathe around her, whispering secrets she didn’t want to hear.

She took another hesitant step, her foot landing on a loose floorboard that creaked sharply beneath her weight. The sound echoed, and with it, the whispering stopped. Silence fell, heavy and oppressive, and in that stillness, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand

Adelle inhaled deeply, the chill of the air prickling her skin as her heart raced in her chest. Shadows enveloped her, wrapping around her like a heavy cloak, while her green eyes darted through the darkness of the room, seeking any sign of life or light. Right, she thought, steadying her breath. They said it was a museum. That means there has to be a switch somewhere, a flicker of magic to bring the place to life.

Shuffling her feet cautiously, Adelle edged toward the left, her fingers stretching out to brush against the cool, rough surface of the wall. She felt her way along, her heart thrumming in time with the whisper of her fingertips until, finally, she stumbled upon what could only be a switch. With a flick, her pulse quickened; a sigh of relief escaped her lips as dim, flickering lightbulbs sputtered to life, illuminating a room straight out of a fairytale—or perhaps a nightmare. Dust danced in the air, caught in the soft glow, and cobwebs draped like delicate lace from the ceiling, giving the place a hauntingly beautiful charm.

Pulling her pointed witch’s hat from her head, Adelle raked her fingers through her unruly hair, exhaling in frustration.

“Fucking bitches,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the door, which now felt like a barrier between her and the outside world. Striding towards it, she pounded her hands against the wooden surface, her heart sinking as the lock held fast.

Silence draped over her, thick and suffocating. Lilith and her entourage had vanished into the night, leaving Adelle to stew in the shadows of this forgotten museum.

“Of course they’d leave,” she muttered bitterly. “They locked me inside for a stupid prank.” The room felt emptier now, as if the walls were closing in around her, mocking her isolation.

“Childish,” she rolled her eyes, exasperation bubbling up within her. Crossing her arms tightly across her chest, she twirled around, surveying her surroundings with a mix of irritation and wonder. “And my mom wonders why I don’t have any friends? Because they’re all stuck-up bitches!”

But as the echoes of her words faded into the stillness, Adelle found herself drawn to the peculiar beauty of the museum. Dusty artifacts lined the walls, each one holding stories of their own, waiting to be discovered. A strange warmth flickered in her chest, nudging her to explore further despite her indignation.

Curiosity gnawed at Adelle, compelling her to wander deeper into the shadows of the museum. The air was thick with dust and an intoxicating blend of mystery and magic, each corner whispering secrets of the past. The story of Morningstar, the most infamous witch of Salem, beckoned to her—after all, her home had become a museum. If this place truly belonged to her, what wonders might it hold?

As Adelle stepped carefully across the creaky wooden floorboards, the first thing that caught her eye was a massive cauldron sitting ominously in the centre of the room. Its surface was slick with dust and draped in cobwebs, giving it an air of sinister allure. Intrigued, she approached, her heart racing at the thought of what it might have been used for. In front of the cauldron, enclosed in a glass case, was a leather-bound book that seemed to thrum with energy.

Her eyebrows shot up as she read the label on the glass.

 “The Spell Book of Morningstar?” she whispered, her voice barely breaking the silence. “Given to her by the devil himself?”

The implications sent a shiver down her spine, but she pressed on, her fascination overcoming her apprehension. The book, bound in what appeared to be human skin, claimed to contain the recipes for her most powerful spells and incantations.

Adelle grimaced, stepping back as a wave of unease washed over her.

“Oh, so creepy,” she muttered, shaking her head as if to dispel the dark images that danced in her mind. With a huff of indignation, she turned to explore further, her heart still racing but her curiosity ignited.

As she wandered through the museum, her gaze fell upon an old candlestick that bore a single black and white candle, nestled within a host of dust and cobwebs. Drawn to it, she approached slowly, her green eyes scanning the label beneath.

“Black Flame Candle,” she read aloud, the words hanging ominously in the air. “Made from the fat of a hangman. Legend says that when lit on a full moon, it will raise the spirits of the dead.”

A snort escaped her lips, a mix of disbelief and amusement bubbling up within her.

“It all sounds so ridiculous and over-the-top!” she exclaimed, the laughter echoing off the walls. How could anyone actually believe in this? None of this could seriously be real, could it?

Adelle's green eyes sparkled with a mix of mischief and curiosity as she surveyed the dimly lit museum once more. A stand of cigarette lighters caught her attention, the vibrant colours glinting in the flickering light. A playful idea sparked in her mind, and she grinned.

“Let’s light this sucker and meet this gorgeous witch!” she chuckled to herself, moving toward the counter.

With a determined flick of her wrist, she snagged a random lighter, admiring the way it gleamed in her hand. She twirled around, her long black and white skirt swirling dramatically, the fabric flowing like a spellbound mist. Her heart raced with a heady cocktail of fear and excitement. None of this could possibly be real; they wouldn’t keep the genuine candle in a place like this, right?

Adelle approached the black flame candle, her pulse quickening as she flipped the lighter open. The small flame flickered to life, a tiny sun of orange illuminating her face. She held it up to the candle, the moment stretching as she pressed the flame to the bent wick.

As if in response to her daring, a black flame sprang forth, and she gasped, eyes wide with astonishment.

“Whoa,” she whispered, marvelling at the eerie beauty of it.

But just as quickly as the flame ignited, the atmosphere shifted. A ghostly wail of wind swept through the room, sending chills down her spine. The temperature plummeted, and Adelle felt the air grow dense around her.

Then, without warning, a reddish glow began to seep from beneath the floorboards. A startled squeal escaped her lips as the boards started to bounce and tremble as if alive. The cupboards and drawers sprang open and shut, creating a chaotic symphony of creaking wood and clattering objects. Her heart raced as she stumbled back, nearly tripping over the cauldron, her breath hitching in her throat as a flame suddenly flickered to life beneath it, casting a warm green glow throughout the room.

“What’s going on?” Adelle gasped, panic washing over her. In a flurry of motion, she ripped herself away from the cauldron, only to stumble back into a wooden beam, disoriented. Every lightbulb in the museum exploded in a shower of glass and sparks, bursting like colorful balloons. Candles flickered to life all around her, bathing the space in a warm, golden light, their flames dancing wildly.

Outside, the sky roared with thunder, and the house shook, tremors vibrating through the very ground beneath her. Adelle sunk to her knees, instinctively crawling under a nearby table, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of the chaotic scene unfolding before her.

Then, with a rush of energy, the door to the museum burst open, shimmering with magic and spilling golden sparks into the room. A hauntingly beautiful, bell-like cackle echoed through the air as a silhouette of a woman emerged, casting a spell of enchantment over the space.

“I’m home!” she sang, her voice rich and melodic, as she stepped into the museum, her boots tapping lightly against the wooden floor. “And my curse worked perfectly!”

Adelle peeked out from beneath the tablecloth, her breath catching as she watched the woman stretch her arms overhead, reaching for something hidden among the beams. Another enchanting laugh spilled from her lips, and she bounced on her feet.

“My lucky rat tail! Exactly where I left it!” she declared, holding up the odd trinket before tossing it aside as if it were a mere afterthought.

As the woman began to hum to herself, Adelle watched in awe, captivated by her presence. She scanned the room, her eyes wide with surprise. “What did those fools do to my home? Dazzle, frazzle? Where are my babes?”

Adelle practically jumped as two fuzzy figures suddenly rubbed against her sides, emerging from the shadows.

“Ah!” the woman exclaimed, turning in Adelle's direction but missing her entirely.

“There you both are, my babies! Did you miss me?” she cooed, kneeling to greet two vibrantly coloured cats—one bright red, the other a curious pink. Their odd colours seemed to shimmer with the remnants of magic, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the museum.

The witch stood up gracefully, her two cat familiars, Dazzle and Razzle, purring contentedly at her feet. She regarded the candle with a curious hum, tapping her chin as her eyes sparkled mischievously.

“But who lit the black flame candle? Hmmm?”

The cats mewed in response, and the witch let out a soft, melodic laugh that sent shivers down Adelle’s spine. With a twirl, her layered skirt of white and red swirled around her legs like a blooming flower, enchanting in its movement.

“Well, no matter!” she declared, her voice lilting with enthusiasm. “We have much to do!”

Adelle watched as the witch glided out of sight, her footsteps echoing softly before fading into the creaking of the floorboards above. Curiosity gnawed at Adelle, urging her to inch forward. She pressed her hands against the worn wooden floor, poking her head out to scan the museum.

Where had the witch gone? She listened intently, faint sounds drifting down from upstairs, and it dawned on her that Morningstar had truly vanished into the upper levels of the house. The still-open door beckoned her like a siren's call. This was her chance—to escape, to run home, and to pretend none of this had ever happened.

Taking a deep breath, Adelle blinked in resolve. She steeled herself, gathering her courage to dart toward the door. But just as she took her first step, it swung shut with a resounding thud, causing Adelle to yelp. She spun around, her large green eyes wide with shock, and froze upon discovering the witch lounging lazily atop the very table she had been hiding beneath.

Morningstar was a striking figure. With white skin accentuated by rosy cheeks and cascading blonde hair threaded with soft coral streaks, she looked every bit the enchanting witch. Her eyes, an unusual light yellow with vibrant red pupils, sparkled with mischief. Shorter than Adelle, her figure was graced by a beautifully fitted dress, layered in shades of white, purple, and red, complete with a corset that hugged her curves. A fluttery cloak of white and purple draped elegantly around her neck, while a top hat adorned her head—curiously, a snake coiled around it, as if guarding its secrets.

Adelle’s breath caught in her throat as the witch’s playful smile widened, her eyes twinkling with intrigue.

“And who might you be, hmm?”

Adelle opened and shut her mouth like a fish out of water.

“I-I’m… Adelle,” she stammered, taking a stumbling step back as Morningstar leapt to her feet and began to circle her like a curious cat.

The witches familiars puffing out their fluffy chests as they lounged comfortably.

Adelle gasped, instinctively pulling her arms close to her chest when Morningstar playfully poked her side, a giggle spilling from her lips as she glided her hand along Adelle’s back and down her arms, sending a warm tingle of unexpected thrill racing through Adelle.

The witch leaned in close, her breath warm against Adelle’s skin, their noses nearly touching. “Well, Adelle, I suppose I ought to thank you.”

Adelle turned crimson, her heart pounding in her chest as she met Morningstar’s gaze. “Th-thank me? For what?”

The witch’s eyes gleamed as she leaned in even closer, almost conspiratorially. “You lit the candle, did you not?”

Adelle nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “I-I did…”

Morningstar’s hands curled around Adelle’s arm, holding it close as if to draw her nearer.

“Then I should thank you for raising me from the dead,” she cooed sweetly, her voice dripping with charm. “A virgin lit the candle on a full moon, Adelle.”

“W-what? No! I-I—this isn’t real!” Adelle sputtered, her mind racing.

The witch giggled, following Adelle as she instinctively tried to back away. “But you did, Adelle. You lit my black flame candle on a full moon. You brought me back from the dead, just as my curse foretold.”

Adelle held her hands up defensively, trying to create distance, but Morningstar’s radiant smile only widened. “Look, Miss Morningstar—”

“Lux,” the witch interjected playfully. “My name is Lux Morningstar.”

Adelle blinked, caught off guard. “Lux?”

“Indeed!” Lux spun around in a dramatic flourish, her skirt swirling. “And you, sweetheart Adelle, are now part of my enchanting tale.”

Her tone was teasing yet playful, and despite the circumstances, Adelle felt an inexplicable connection forming—a magnetic pull toward the vibrant witch standing before her, shimmering with mystery and charm.

“What do you mean?” Adelle asked, her curiosity igniting like a flame.

Adelle felt her heart racing as Lux moved closer; her luminous presence almost overwhelming.

“You really must let me thank you for lighting the candle,” Lux insisted, her bright eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement.

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Adelle shot back, shaking her hands defensively. “I didn’t really do much—well, I didn’t do anything at all!”

But no matter how much she tried to create distance, Lux was like a shadow, her gaze unwavering, her grin enchanting.

“Oh, but you did,” Lux cooed, tilting her head in that adorable way that made Adelle’s cheeks flush. “What year is it, Adelle?”

Adelle paused, caught off guard by the question. “Um… 2024?”

Lux’s laughter rang out like wind chimes dancing in the breeze. “Exactly! Nobody has lit my candle in over three hundred years, Adelle! I really must thank you!”

Adelle blushed deeper, stammering, “N-no, you really don’t need to! I mean—”

She looked down, feeling small under the witch’s piercing gaze. “I wouldn’t have even been in here if it wasn’t for those… um…”

“What happened?” Lux leaned in; her curiosity piqued. “Did somebody hurt you?”

Adelle shook her head vigorously. “No, no! I wasn’t hurt. It was just a nasty prank, and…”

She sighed, the weight of the evening washing over her. “It was just a bunch of other people at a party. They wanted me to sneak into the museum with them. If I wasn’t such a coward, I might have gone with them. They locked me in here and said they would come back to let me out in the morning.”

A glint of mischief danced in Lux’s eyes as she stepped even closer, her voice lilting with amusement. “You know, I am a very powerful witch.”

Adelle gasped, her eyebrows shooting up. “That’s true? Oh, haha, of course it is! You’re right here!”

Lux’s grin widened, revealing sharp teeth that made Adelle’s breath hitch. “Adelle, I’m a very powerful witch, and I owe you a favour.”

Adelle blinked slowly, confusion clouding her mind. “I don’t… get it?”

Lux leaned in closer, squeezing Adelle’s hands gently, her breath warm and sweet against Adelle’s lips. “I’m saying, why don’t we go ‘prank’ them back?”

Adelle’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. “Y-you’ll really do that? For me?”

“Of course I will,” Lux replied, her voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers down Adelle’s spine.

Adelle squeezed Lux’s hands in return, her excitement bubbling over into a radiant smile that made Lux’s cheeks flush pink. “Yes! Let’s do that! Fuck yeah!”

Adelle practically jumped to her feet, her joy infectious. Lux stood there, momentarily stunned by Adelle’s enthusiasm, her heart fluttering at the sight of the other girl’s exuberance.

“Yes, let us do that,” Lux agreed, her voice now brimming with a conspiratorial thrill. The air around them buzzed with possibility, magic swirling in the atmosphere like fireflies igniting the night.

“Okay! What’s the plan?” Adelle asked, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.

Lux grinned, her eyes glinting with mischief. “First, we need to gather supplies.”

Adelle’s pulse raced with anticipation. “What kind of supplies?”

Lux turned, glancing back at the museum. “You’d be surprised what we can find in a place like this.”

She gestured around the room, her long skirt twirling as she moved with purpose. “Let’s explore, shall we?”

With that, they set off together, the witch leading the way and Adelle following eagerly, both charged with excitement and the thrill of the unknown. As they wandered through the dimly lit museum, Adelle couldn’t shake the feeling that she was about to embark on the most magical adventure of her life.

The atmosphere in the museum crackled with energy as Adelle and Lux exchanged wicked glances, their plans set in motion.

“We’re going to teach them a lesson they won’t forget,” Lux said, her voice dripping with playful malice.

Adelle couldn’t help but grin back, her nerves melting away in the warmth of Lux’s presence. “So, how do we start?”

Lux pondered for a moment, tapping her chin with a delicate finger. “Well, we need to channel some good old-fashioned witchcraft. Let’s use a little bit of what I’ve got lying around here.”

Adelle watched with wide eyes as Lux glided through the museum, her fingers brushing against various artifacts and trinkets. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a vial filled with a shimmering liquid that glowed like moonlight.

“This will be perfect for a little potion of fear,” she said, her voice lilting with mischief.

“Potion of fear?” Adelle echoed, her heart racing.

Lux chuckled softly. “It’s harmless, I promise. Just a little something to give them a good scare, a reminder not to mess with witches.”

“Okay!” Adelle exclaimed, adrenaline pumping through her veins. “Let’s do it!”

With their mischievous scheme ready to unfold, Adelle and Lux slipped through the back door of the museum and into the crisp night air. The moon hung majestically overhead, casting a silvery glow that bathed Salem in a magical light.

As they made their way toward the party, the thumping music pulsed in the distance, vibrating with a life of its own. Adelle stepped closer to Lux, who offered a sweet smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Taking Adelle’s hand in her own, she pulled her nearer, their fingers entwining seamlessly.

Standing just outside the house, they faced one another, the anticipation crackling in the air between them.

“Trust me, okay?” Lux whispered softly, her voice warm and inviting. “I know we’ve just met, but for this next part to work, you really need to trust me.”

Adelle's vibrant green eyes widened, their depth enchanting Lux as she felt herself getting lost in them. After a moment’s hesitation, Adelle nodded, her heart racing in sync with the electricity of the night.

Lux twirled her finger above them, summoning a spark of golden magic that shimmered around them like fireflies caught in a soft breeze. A gasp escaped Adelle’s lips, and she instinctively clung to Lux as they began to rise from the ground.

The world below fell away as they levitated higher and higher, finally landing gracefully on the roof of the house. Adelle's legs trembled beneath her, but the thrill of flight exhilarated her. Lux maintained her hold on Adelle’s hand, grounding her with a reassuring grip.

 Adelle’s heart raced at the thought of confronting the group.

“What if they don’t take it well?” she asked, her excitement tinged with uncertainty.

“Don’t worry, my sweetheart,” Lux said, her smile confident. “A little magic goes a long way.”

As they stood atop the roof, the cool breeze tousling their hair, Adelle gazed down at the lively party below. Colourful lights twinkled like stars, and laughter floated up, but it felt distant now, as if they were in a different world altogether. The thrill of being up so high with Lux filled her with a mix of exhilaration and nerves.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Lux murmured, her voice soft yet electric. She pointed towards the moon, which hung like a silver coin against the backdrop of dark velvet skies, illuminating the scene with an ethereal glow.

Adelle nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from the otherworldly sight.

“It really is,” she breathed, her heart racing. “But why are we up here?”

Lux’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to Adelle, her grip tightening around her hand. “This is where the real fun begins. We need to give them a taste of magic they won’t forget.”

Adelle felt a tingle of excitement run down her spine. “What do you have in mind?”

With a playful grin, Lux leaned in closer, their faces almost touching. “Trust me and keep your eyes on the ground.”

Without another word, she raised her other hand, and a shimmer of golden light enveloped them. Adelle felt a warm rush as the energy pulsed between them, vibrant and alive. Lux's magic swirled around like glittering fireflies, casting a spell over the roof.

“Now, watch,” Lux instructed, her voice low and enticing.

As Adelle focused on the partygoers below, she watched in awe as Lux began to weave her magic. With each graceful motion of her hands, she summoned wisps of light that danced through the air like playful spirits. The lights flickered and twirled, drawing the attention of the party guests.

“What is that?” someone shouted, pointing upwards.

Adelle’s heart raced as she watched the group below, their expressions shifting from confusion to delight. The flickering lights coalesced into shapes—tiny figures that swirled around the partygoers, mimicking their movements with exaggerated motions.

“What the hell is going on?” Eve exclaimed, her voice cutting through the music.

“Is it a prank?” Tony added, squinting up at the roof.

“Or a show?” Marcus mused, clearly captivated by the spectacle.

Lux leaned closer to Adelle, her breath warm against her cheek. “Let’s add a little sound to the mix, shall we?”

With a mischievous wink, she gestured with her fingers, and the soft hum of ethereal music filled the air, weaving seamlessly with the beats of the party below. The tiny figures danced to the rhythm, swirling in a hypnotic pattern that had everyone entranced.

Adelle couldn’t help but giggle at the chaos unfolding.

“This is amazing!” she whispered; her eyes wide with wonder.

Lux smiled, a radiant expression that lit up her face. “Just wait. We’re just getting started.”

With another flourish of her hands, the lights began to pulse in time with the music, intensifying the experience. Suddenly, bursts of colour erupted from the wisps, showering the party with sparkles of light that twinkled like stars falling from the sky.

Screams of delight mingled with laughter as the guests began to dance and reach for the shimmering lights, completely unaware of the source of their enchantment.

“Now for the grand finale!” Lux announced, her excitement palpable.

Adelle felt the rush of magic surging around them, filling her with an intoxicating thrill. Lux raised her arms high, summoning a swirl of luminous energy that spiralled into the air above them.

“Let’s give them a night to remember!”

With a final flourish, she unleashed the energy into a dazzling explosion of light that filled the night sky, illuminating the house and surrounding area with a brilliance that rivalled the sun. The air crackled with magic as the vibrant colours twisted and twirled, forming a shimmering spectacle that left everyone below in awe.

“Wow!” Lilith gasped, her mouth hanging open as she stared upwards, eyes wide with disbelief.

Lux turned to Adelle, her face aglow with delight. “See how they’re captivated? This is the magic of fear and wonder combined.”

Adelle felt giddy, an infectious laughter bubbling up within her. “This is incredible! They’re completely enchanted!”

As the grand display faded, leaving trails of sparkling light to drift down like confetti, Adelle could see the group below looking utterly mesmerized.

“We’ve done it!” she shouted, her excitement bursting forth.

Lux beamed back at her, the moonlight casting a soft glow around them. “Oh, sweetheart Adelle, this is just the beginning of our magical adventures. They’ll never forget tonight!”

She stepped forward, the night air swirling with magic as she raised her arms. A shimmering mist began to form around them, swirling like smoke as she chanted softly, her voice rising and falling in a melodic rhythm.

“Is that…?” Lilith started, her voice trailing off as the mist enveloped the clearing.

Suddenly, with a dramatic flourish, Lux thrust her hands forward, sending the mist rushing toward the group. It coiled around them like serpents, dark and whispering, sending chills down their spines.

“What the hell?!” Marcus shouted, stumbling backward as the mist swirled ominously around them.

Eve shrieked, her voice piercing the night. “What is this?!”

Lux laughed, a sound like tinkling bells, as she leaned closer to Adelle. “Watch closely, my sweetheart.”

With another flick of her wrist, the mist began to transform, taking on the shapes of grotesque apparitions—twisted figures with hollow eyes and gaping mouths that wailed in despair. The group gasped, fear flashing across their faces.

“W-what is happening?!” Luke stammered, his bravado fading.

Adelle couldn’t help but laugh, a sound bubbling up from within her as she watched the chaos unfold. “This is amazing!”

Lux shot her a knowing smile, her eyes alight with excitement. “We’re just getting started.”

She swirled her arms, and the apparitions began to dance, flickering in and out of existence, their mournful wails echoing in the night. The group backed away, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Please, stop!” Tony pleaded, panic creeping into his voice. “This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, but it is!” Lux sang, her voice dripping with enchantment. “You see, this is what happens when you mess with witches. A little fear goes a long way!”

Adelle felt a thrill of power surge through her as she watched her former tormentor’s squirm. Lilith, who had always seemed so confident, now looked small and vulnerable, her bravado replaced by sheer terror.

“Please, just let us go!” Selena cried, her voice trembling.

Lux paused, her laughter softening as she considered their pleas. “Alright, I think we’ve made our point. But remember this night, my sweetheart friends. Respect the magic, or it will come for you again.”

With another wave of her hand, the mist retreated, dissipating into the night like smoke. The apparitions vanished, leaving the group gasping for breath, their faces pale.

Adelle stepped forward, her heart racing. “Next time, think twice before locking someone inside a museum.”

Lilith, still trembling, nodded frantically. “We’re sorry! We didn’t mean it!”

“Consider yourselves warned,” Lux said, her tone playful yet firm. “One last thing~”

Adelle watched in awe as Lux's demeanour shifted. The playful glimmer in her eyes transformed into something deeper, more powerful.

Lux stepped forward, her presence commanding the attention of every soul below, and began to sing. The night air shimmered with magic as her voice floated down, hauntingly beautiful and rich with emotion.

“I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine…”

The melody wrapped around the partygoers like a silken thread, drawing their gazes upward, mesmerized by the enchanting figure on the roof. Lux’s voice rose and fell, each note dripping with allure, cascading down like a waterfall of sound that beckoned them to dance.

“You can’t stop the things I do, I ain’t lyin’…”

The crowd swayed as if caught in a gentle current, their inhibitions melting away with each haunting lyric. Faces lit up with smiles, feet began to tap, and before long, laughter and joy swirled through the air like autumn leaves caught in a breeze.

Lux twirled gracefully on the rooftop, her skirts swirling around her like a spellbinding fog, her hair cascading like a golden waterfall. The glow of the moon illuminated her, casting an ethereal light that made her seem otherworldly.

“You’re in love with me, now, I can see…”

Adelle felt her heart race as she watched the spell take hold. The partygoers danced and twirled, entranced, lost in the rhythm of the night. It was as if the world below had transformed into a fantastical dream, every soul enchanted by Lux's melodic voice.

“I put a spell on you, and now you’re mine…”

The crescendo of the song echoed through the night, wrapping around each partygoer, compelling them to dance as if they had no choice. Adelle couldn’t help but join in, her laughter mingling with the music as she swayed her body to the hypnotic rhythm.

As the final notes echoed into the night, the last traces of the spell lingered, binding the partygoers in a euphoric trance, and Adelle turned to Lux, her eyes wide with wonder.

“This is incredible!” she exclaimed, her voice barely rising above the joyous chaos below.

Lux flashed her a bewitching smile, her voice a gentle whisper. “Welcome to the magic of the night, sweetheart. Together, we can make it last forever.”

The two sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the side, their laughter echoing into the night. Below them, the crowd swayed and twirled, caught in a spell that rendered them blissfully unaware of anything outside their euphoric dance. It was as if the world had melted away, leaving only the rhythmic beat of the music and the joy of movement.

Adelle couldn’t take her eyes off the scene, mesmerized by the sight of Lilith and her friends—the very ones who had locked her in that eerie museum—spinning in circles, unable to resist the magic.

"Look at them," she said, her voice tinged with disbelief. "They can't even stop to catch their breath."

Lux leaned into Adelle’s side, a playful nudge that sent warmth spiraling through Adelle.

"Don’t worry, it’ll all wear off when the sun rises," she replied with a soft smile, her voice as soothing as a lullaby.

Adelle turned her gaze to Lux, eyes sparkling with admiration. "You’re amazing. You really are."

Lux’s cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she looked down, shyly brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thank you… nobody’s ever said that before," she admitted, a hint of vulnerability colouring her tone.

Curiosity bubbled within Adelle, and she hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is it true? The myth about you… sucking out the souls of children?”

Lux’s expression shifted, a shadow of sadness flickering across her face. She shook her head, her voice firm yet gentle. “Of course it isn’t. I never harmed a child. I’ve never harmed anyone.”

Adelle frowned, sensing the weight of unspoken stories behind those words.

“Lux?” she began, her voice soft with concern, but before she could continue, Lux stood up, her beautiful dress billowing in the wind like petals in a breeze.

“Adelle, would you like to go flying?” she asked, her warm smile radiating excitement.

Adelle’s eyes widened, her heart racing at the thought. “Flying? How?”

Lux giggled, her laughter like the tinkling of chimes. She held out her hand, her azure eyes sparkling as she pointed to the scattered broomsticks below. With a flick of her wrist, one broomstick lifted from the ground, soaring gracefully into her waiting grasp.

“Like this,” she said, curling her fingers around the handle and, with a small kick, hovered effortlessly above the roof.

Adelle gasped, peering nervously over the edge.

“What if I fall?” she exclaimed, a mixture of thrill and fear swirling within her.

Lux laughed softly, the sound wrapping around Adelle like a warm embrace. “I won’t drop you, I promise.”

With a deep breath, Adelle swallowed her apprehension. “Alright…” she whispered, her heart pounding with both excitement and anxiety.

Lux brought the broomstick closer, her smile reassuring.

“It’ll be alright, really,” she assured, her voice soothing as a gentle breeze.

Adelle inhaled deeply, a shy smile creeping across her lips as she inched forward. Lux extended her hand, guiding Adelle to the spot behind her on the broomstick.

As Adelle pressed herself against Lux’s back, a delightful shiver raced down her spine.

“You’re going to need to hold on,” Lux said softly, her breath warm against Adelle’s skin.

“I-is this okay?” Adelle asked bashfully, her arms wrapping around Lux’s waist, holding on tighter than she had intended.

“Perfect, Adelle,” Lux beamed, her eyes twinkling with joy. “Just don’t lose your grip and trust me, okay?”

With a playful tilt, Lux kicked off the roof, and they both soared into the night sky. The world below faded away, and Adelle felt the rush of the wind against her face, a thrill coursing through her veins as they danced among the stars.

As Lux guided the broomstick higher into the twinkling night sky, the world below transformed into a tapestry of glowing lights and shadowy silhouettes. The crisp air rushed around them, filling Adelle’s lungs with a mix of exhilaration and magic. Each sway of the broomstick felt fluid and effortless, a reflection of Lux’s grace and confidence.

Adelle squeezed her arms tighter around Lux’s waist, instinctively pressing herself against her back. The warmth radiating from Lux was comforting, grounding her amidst the thrill of their flight. Her long brown and red curls danced wildly in the wind, swirling behind her like a vibrant banner that caught the light of the stars above. Adelle gasped in awe, her heart racing at the beauty of the night sky—each star shining brightly as if they were sparkling just for them.

“Look at how beautiful it is!” Adelle exclaimed; her voice almost drowned out by the rush of wind. She leaned slightly to the side, trying to take in the full view of the night. “I’ve never seen anything like this!”

Lux glanced back at her, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief and delight.

“Just wait until you see it from above the clouds,” she teased, a smile dancing on her lips. With a playful flick of her wrist, she guided the broomstick even higher, breaking through the thin veil of clouds that floated like wisps of cotton candy.

As they emerged above the clouds, Adelle’s breath caught in her throat. The stars shone even brighter here, twinkling like diamonds scattered across a velvet backdrop. The moon hung low, casting a silvery glow that illuminated everything around them. Adelle could hardly believe she was flying through this enchanting world with a witch as captivating as Lux.

“Lux, this is incredible!” Adelle gasped, her voice laced with wonder. She leaned closer, resting her chin gently on Lux’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing beneath her arms.

In that moment, surrounded by the magic of the night, time seemed to stand still. Adelle’s heart swelled as she inhaled the sweet scent of lavender and honey that clung to Lux. The intimacy of their proximity stirred something deep within her, a yearning that pulsed through her veins.

“Do you like it?” Lux asked, her voice soft and melodic, barely louder than a whisper as they hovered above the world. She leaned back slightly, allowing Adelle to feel her warmth even more.

“I love it,” Adelle replied earnestly, her heart racing. “I love being here with you.”

She tightened her grip, and as if sensing her need for reassurance, Lux leaned back further, allowing their bodies to meld together, every curve and contour aligning seamlessly.

The moonlight bathed them in a gentle glow, casting soft shadows that danced on their skin. Adelle couldn’t help but marvel at how beautifully close they were, the sound of their hearts beating in unison, the electric energy crackling between them.

“Is this real?” Adelle asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Is this really happening?”

Lux turned her head just enough to meet Adelle’s gaze, her expression softening.

“It’s real, Adelle. You’re here with me,” she murmured, her breath brushing against Adelle’s cheek, sending shivers down her spine.

Feeling bold, Adelle tilted her head, their faces inches apart, the world below forgotten. “Lux…” she breathed, her heart racing, and in that moment, the space between them felt charged with an unspoken promise.

“Yes?” Lux asked, her eyes locking onto Adelle’s with a spark of curiosity and warmth.

“Can I…” Adelle hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. “Can I kiss you?”

The question hung in the air, thick with anticipation. Lux’s smile widened, and a soft laugh escaped her lips, filled with both mischief and affection. “Oh, Adelle, you don’t even have to ask.”

With that invitation, Adelle leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met softly at first, a tentative brush that quickly ignited into something deeper, more passionate. Time seemed to melt away as they kissed, the warmth of Lux’s lips igniting a fire within Adelle that she had never felt before.

As they pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the world felt different—more vibrant, more alive. Adelle nestled back against Lux’s back, her heart racing with excitement and joy, the night sky stretching endlessly above them as they flew into the unknown, together.

As they descended from the night sky, Lux expertly guided the broomstick back towards her museum house, the familiar silhouette of the building rising in the moonlight. Adelle felt a mix of exhilaration and bittersweetness as they approached the ground. With a gentle swoop, Lux landed gracefully, her feet touching the ground as Adelle carefully slid off behind her.

Once they were both safely on the cobblestone path, Adelle turned to Lux, still feeling the thrill of their flight coursing through her veins. She took both of Lux's hands in hers, looking up into the witch’s striking blue eyes.

“Thank you, Lux,” she said earnestly. “Everything you’ve done for me—it's been too much.”

Lux’s cheeks flushed a soft pink at the sincerity of Adelle’s words. A gentle smile graced her lips, a mix of warmth and shyness.

“It was my pleasure,” she replied, her voice softening as they shared a quiet moment.

With a shared glance, they entered the museum together. As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted by the eager mews of Dazzle and Razzle, the two cats racing towards them. They wound around Lux's legs, whining for attention, their eyes sparkling with delight. Adelle laughed as she bent down to scoop up Razzle, who immediately nestled into her arms, purring loudly.

“Looks like they missed you,” Adelle said, looking up at Lux with a playful grin.

Lux chuckled, gently cradling Dazzle in her arms.

“They always know when I’ve been away. They have a sixth sense for mischief,” she teased, and then her expression turned contemplative. “But they’re not the only ones.”

As she strolled through the dimly lit museum, holding Dazzle close, her demeanour shifted. The light-heartedness faded, replaced by an underlying sadness. Adelle followed beside her, holding Razzle, sensing that there was more to Lux than met the eye.

“What really happened to you, Lux?” Adelle asked gently, her curiosity piqued. “You mentioned your curse… but what led to it?”

Lux sighed, glancing down at Dazzle as the cat curled comfortably against her chest.

“I never wanted to settle down, to marry and have children,” she began, her voice softer now, tinged with an ache. “I didn’t have feelings for any young man, which was… unusual. The mayor believed I should marry his son, but I didn’t want to. I hated him—he was a disgusting pighead.”

Adelle’s heart ached at the bitterness in Lux’s words.

“You told him no?” she asked, her grip on Razzle tightening.

Lux nodded, her expression distant as she recalled the memories. “I did. But he kept trying to force me into marriage. One day, I snapped. I used my magic, thinking it would teach him a lesson. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

Stepping closer to her, Adelle placed a comforting hand on Lux’s arm. “You were defending yourself. You had every right to refuse.”

Lux leaned into Adelle’s touch, the warmth of the gesture wrapping around her like a comforting cloak.

“You’re too kind, Adelle,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve had so much fun tonight with you. You’re… unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

Adelle felt her cheeks heat at the compliment. “I’m happy to have met you too, Lux…but why… why are you talking like this is the end? We’ll see each other again, right?”

Lux’s smile faltered, becoming more pained. Her blue eyes softened, almost glistening in the dim light of the museum. “Oh, Adelle. My candle doesn’t work that way. I’m only allowed one night.”

Adelle gasped, her heart sinking at the revelation. “One night? No, that’s not fair! You can’t just have the one night.”

Lux hummed softly, looking down with flushed cheeks. “The curse was written like that.”

“There must be a way for you to stay longer,” Adelle insisted, desperation creeping into her voice.

Lux bit her bottom lip, a flicker of hope in her eyes as she whispered, “There is one way…”

“What is it?” Adelle asked, holding Lux close, her heart racing. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Lux gasped, her gaze locking onto Adelle’s with wide, earnest eyes. “Kiss me.”

Adelle froze, surprise flooding her features. “I… s-sorry?”

Lux turned red, her fingers nervously pinching the fabric of Adelle's cloak. “I… if you kiss me…”

“If you make love to me…I can stay,” she explained, her voice trembling slightly. “A virgin must lit my black flamed candle for me to be raised from the dead. If I take that virginity…in the same night, I can stay…but there must be…feelings between us.”

A whirlwind of emotions surged through Adelle—confusion, excitement, and a deep longing she had never felt before. This was a decision that felt monumental, and yet it seemed so natural. She looked into Lux’s pleading eyes, filled with hope and something deeper.

“Are you sure?” Adelle asked, her voice a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

Lux nodded; her expression unwavering. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this moment with you.”

Taking a deep breath, Adelle leaned in, her heart pounding as their lips met. It was electric, a jolt of magic that surged through them both. The kiss deepened, fuelled by the connection they had forged throughout the night, binding them in a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting.

As they finally pulled apart, both breathless and flushed, Adelle felt a warmth bloom in her chest.

“Lux… I want to spend more time with you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I-I want you stay…with me.”

Lux smiled softly, her eyes shining. “Then make love to me, Adelle…”

Adelle took a shaky breath as she stepped closer, her fingers trembling as she reached for Lux. The beautiful witch smiled reassuringly, her warm eyes meeting Adelle’s gaze as she guided Adelle’s hands to her waist. Slowly, Lux leaned in, meeting Adelle halfway until their lips finally brushed together in a gentle, tender kiss.

At first, it was soft and delicate, their lips barely grazing, testing the waters. But as they lingered, the kiss deepened, a growing warmth igniting between them. Adelle’s heart raced, and she leaned in closer, savouring the way Lux's lips moved against hers, each moment more intoxicating than the last. When they finally parted, Adelle found herself gasping softly, her cheeks flushed, and her breaths uneven.

Lux giggled, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she cupped Adelle’s face in her hands. “Have you never kissed anyone before?” she asked, her voice filled with gentle curiosity.

Adelle’s face grew even redder, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“No,” she admitted softly. “You’re… the first person I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”

Lux’s smile softened; her expression filled with warmth. “Me too, Adelle. You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted before.”

Something in Adelle’s chest swelled at those words, and before she knew it, she was leaning in again, pressing her lips to Lux’s once more. This time, the kiss was more assured, more passionate. Lux melted into her, wrapping her arms around Adelle’s shoulders, pulling her close as she returned the kiss with equal fervour. Adelle’s hands tightened around Lux’s waist, holding her close as they lost themselves in the moment, the world around them fading into nothing.

Lux slowly pulled away, her cheeks flushed as she gazed up at Adelle, who was breathless, her eyes shining with an emotion that seemed to mirror Lux's own.

“I never thought…” Lux whispered, almost to herself, her fingertips tracing a gentle line along Adelle’s cheek. “I never thought I’d feel this way.”

“I…really like you, Luxie.” Adelle admitted bashfully.

Taking a step back, Lux pulled at her cloak, untying it and allowing it fall down her body. She then took hold of Adelle’s hand again, and tenderly led her towards the staircase. Her eyes twinkles as the two began to climb the steps, towards Lux’s bedroom. Adelle had been expecting an old, cobwebbed room, but that wasn’t the case. With a twinkling golden snap of her fingers, the room morphed into a cleaner and fresher version of her room.

“You’re so beautiful…” Adelle mumbled softly, shyly. “I’ve never meet somebody as beautiful as you are before.”

Chuckling, Lux lightly began to pull at the ribbons and lace holding her dress together. “You’re beautiful too, Addie. I think you’re gorgeous. You’re more beautiful

As the first light of dawn began to break, Adelle and Lux made their way to Adelle’s home, fingers intertwined as they walked up the steps. Razzle and Dazzle trotted along behind, their soft purrs adding a quiet harmony to the early morning stillness. Reaching the front door, Adelle glanced at Lux with a warm smile, heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Mum, I’m home,” Adelle called softly as they stepped inside. She barely had a moment to breathe before her mother appeared, worry etched into every line of her face.

“Adelle! You’ve been out all night—I was so worried! I was about to call the police and—” Her mother’s voice trailed off when she noticed Lux standing by Adelle’s side.

The surprise in her mother’s eyes made Adelle blush.

“Adelle! You made a friend?” she said, delighted but still surprised.

Lux dipped into a graceful curtsy, flashing a charming smile. “My name is Lux Morningstar, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m afraid Adelle was out so late helping me…”

Adelle met her mother’s gaze, nodding with a sheepish smile. “Lux got… well, kicked out of her apartment, Mum.”

Her mother gasped, immediately rushing toward Lux and enveloping her in a hug.

“Oh, you poor thing!” she exclaimed, practically squeezing the life out of her. “Where are your parents, sweetheart?”

Caught off guard, Lux stammered, glancing helplessly at Adelle as she attempted to return the hug. “Er… well… I don’t have any, ma’am. I’m… an orphan.”

Adelle’s mother’s eyes softened even more as she clutched Lux tighter, who looked over at Adelle in quiet desperation.

“Oh, you poor baby!” her mother exclaimed, her voice thick with compassion. “Of course, you can stay here. You’re welcome for as long as you need!”

Finally, her mother loosened her hold, and Lux took a deep breath, laughing nervously as she stepped back.

“Thank you, ma’am,” she said with a grateful smile, glancing toward Adelle, who reached out to gently steady her.

“Alright, you two,” her mother said, crossing her arms but with a soft smile. “It’s very late. I want you both in bed to get some sleep.”

Adelle nodded and led Lux up the stairs, guiding her carefully so she wouldn’t trip in her still-nervous daze. They reached Adelle’s room, and as they entered, the comfort of the space settled over them both. Adelle pulled Lux onto the bed with a laugh, and they tumbled down together, Lux curling into Adelle’s side, her eyes bright and filled with quiet happiness.

“Your mum seems really nice,” she whispered, snuggling in close as Razzle and Dazzle jumped up onto the bed and settled down beside them.

Adelle beamed, wrapping an arm around her. “She is… and I’m really glad you get to stay with me now, Lux.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to Lux’s forehead, feeling her heart race at the warmth between them.

Lux closed her eyes, a soft smile gracing her lips as she nestled closer, her fingers brushing Adelle’s in a quiet, affectionate gesture.

 “I never thought I’d find this… find you,” she murmured. “Thank you, Adelle.”

They drifted into a peaceful sleep, content in each other’s arms as the morning light filtered through the room.

[rainforestakiie]

AdamsApple Month Harvest!

Hierophilia~

i love this idea. i have been wanting to write this for a while now and i am so happy i was finally able to write it! i hope you all enjoy it!

@adamsappleweek

For as long as Adam could remember, he had been a man of God. From his earliest memories, he’d been a dutiful child, faithful and unwavering, then, with the passage of years, even a priest—a father to those seeking guidance and sanctuary. Adam followed every rule, colored diligently within the lines, and heeded the words of his superiors without question. His childhood had been spent under the austere gaze of nuns, in the dim, hallowed halls of a church-run orphanage. Sunday schools, chapel services, choir, and scripture recitations filled his days. He knew every word of the Bible as if each letter was etched onto his bones. And if Adam ever wavered, it was only in a fleeting, unspoken thought, quickly buried beneath guilt and supplication.

The path of God was the only path he’d ever known, and he followed it as if blindfolded, trusting that it would lead to somewhere better. But when he needed God the most, in the moments that clawed and scraped at his soul, when he was drowning in pain and despair, heaven was silent. No hand reached out to him from above, no voice answered his desperate cries for help.

He remembered kneeling in the cold stone chapel, his knees aching, hands clasped until his knuckles turned white, and praying—no, pleading—for some sign, any sign, that his faith had not been in vain. But his prayers seemed to dissolve into the emptiness around him, swallowed by the vast indifference of the universe.

For every act of devotion, every sermon he preached, every lost soul he counseled, he had expected, in the deepest corner of his heart, that God would somehow make it all mean something. But now, with his heart hollow and raw, he saw it for what it was: a lie, a beautifully spun illusion. The heavens were empty, the angels and saints nothing but figments, the whole of it a grand, hollow promise that led only to despair.

In the stillness, Adam felt the coldness seep into him, a chill that seemed to cling to his very bones. He was utterly, terrifyingly alone. His faith, the one constant in his life, had crumbled to ash. He was abandoned, left to face the bleak reality of a world devoid of divine comfort or celestial purpose. And in that darkness, a bitterness took root in his heart.

But even as he felt the anger and resentment growing, there was a flicker of something else—something he hadn’t felt before. It was a dark, electric pull, almost magnetic. He couldn’t quite name it, but it crept into his mind like a haunting whisper, filling the void that God had left behind.

One night, as he wandered the shadowed streets of the city, lost in his own thoughts, he stumbled upon her. She was standing beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp, her form almost ghostly against the cold light. Her eyes met his, and in them, he saw a glint of something strange and mesmerizing—a gaze that seemed to pierce through his very soul. He felt his heartbeat quicken, a thrill that was both frightening and exhilarating.

One day, Sera, the nun who had practically raised him since he was a toddler, summoned Adam for a meeting. Once upon a time, this would have filled him with anxiety and determination to make her proud. He’d become a priest in no small part for her approval, wanting so desperately to feel her pride. Whenever Sera’s voice took on a certain serious tone, he used to worry that he’d disappointed her somehow, fearing that a single wrong step could shatter the bond they shared. But now… now he felt only a cold numbness.

Adam limped into her office, dragging his aching left leg. The memory of the accident lingered in his body like a dark echo, his once-sure steps reduced to a clumsy shuffle. Sera looked at him, her soft smile etched in familiar lines at the edges of her eyes.

"How are you, Adam?” she asked, her voice gentle but probing.

"Fine," he replied, his voice flat, toneless. Gone was the warm, eager lilt he’d once reserved just for her. Sera's lips twitched, her nose wrinkled as she folded her hands before her.

"And… how are you after the accident?" she continued, studying him closely.

He shrugged, mumbling, "I'm managing."

A flicker of something dark passed through Sera's gaze as she nodded, her eyes still trained on him. Adam avoided her gaze, feeling too weary to engage. Sera clicked her tongue and gestured for him to sit, which he did, sighing as the pressure on his leg eased.

"I wanted to check on you," she began slowly, "but also… I hear you wish to leave the church?"

Her voice was soft, almost cautious, as she moved around the desk to sit beside him.

Adam, feeling a wave of frustration wash over him, frowned deeply. He glanced up to meet her gaze, his expression hardening.

“Why?” he muttered, voice low. “God wasn’t there when I needed Him.”

Sera’s face fell, but she tried to keep her composure. “Adam, you went through a traumatic experience. This is no time to leave God’s embrace; in fact, now is when you should lean on Him even more. He has a plan—”

“A plan?” Adam’s voice cracked, his bitterness slipping through. “He has a plan? Sera, I nearly died. I lay there in the middle of the road, alone, in the rain, bleeding out. And God, this all-powerful, all-loving deity, was nowhere to be found. I prayed, I screamed for Him. And He was silent.”

Sera took a breath, composing herself. “God works in mysterious ways, Adam. Sometimes, His answers aren’t immediate. Sometimes, He’s there even when we feel abandoned—”

Adam shook his head, his gaze piercing. “No, Sera. He wasn’t there. I saw nothing. Felt nothing. Just… emptiness.”

He exhaled, feeling the weight of his words settle between them. “I’m done, Sera. I’m not a priest. I’m not a believer. It’s all fake.”

His voice grew quiet, but the conviction was unmistakable.

Sera’s face drained of color. Her hands trembled slightly, and for a moment, she looked as if she might faint.

Adam muttered an apology, not wanting to hurt her, but the words felt hollow even as they left his mouth. Sera shook her head, rising from her chair and crossing the room to the tall bookcase where she kept a collection of sacred texts and cherished volumes. She trailed her fingers along the spines, then paused, carefully pulling out a slim, worn book.

Adam closed his eyes, bracing himself.

“I don’t want to read the Bible, Sera,” he murmured, a note of fatigue creeping into his voice.

“It isn’t a Bible,” she replied softly, her gaze tinged with something strange—perhaps a kind of sorrow.

“It’s contact information.” She returned to his side, offering him the book, her expression almost pleading. “Adam, I understand. I do. But don’t throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for. Not so quickly. Give God… give us a chance to prove ourselves to you.”

He looked down at the book, its worn cover unfamiliar yet somehow ominous.

“What?” he muttered, confused.

Sera managed a small, pained smile as she opened the book, flipping to a page where elegant handwriting filled the lines.

“I have an old friend,” she began, hesitant.

Adam’s face hardened, and he shifted in his seat, ready to rise. “No. No, Sera, I don’t want to meet anyone else who’ll just preach to me about the so-called ‘way of the Lord’ and the ‘path to salvation.’ I’m done with it. Done with all of them. I’m tired, Sera.”

He raked a hand through his hair, feeling the stress coil tighter within him. “I just want to rest.”

Sera's grip tightened on the book, her knuckles blanching. She took a slow breath, as if steadying herself.

“Adam,” she said carefully, her voice laced with something deeper. “Do you trust me?”

Adam blinked, surprised by the question. “…Of course I do.”

She stepped closer, holding the book out to him. “Then, please, give him a chance. My friend—he isn’t like anyone else in the church.”

Adam frowned, suspicion in his gaze. “Sera…”

She shook her head, raising a hand to silence him. “I’m not going to try to stop you from leaving. If that’s what you truly want, I won’t protest. But all I ask is that you spend three months with my friend. If, after that, you still want to leave the church, I’ll respect your decision without a single word of protest.”

Her tone was earnest, her eyes pleading, and Adam felt a strange weight in her words, something almost desperate. He looked from her face to the book in her hand, a part of him recoiling, and yet… another part felt curious, drawn in by the mystery she seemed to be hiding.

Three months. What was three more months, in a life already steeped in disappointment and regret?

He took the book from her hands, feeling the roughness of the cover under his fingertips, and nodded stiffly.

“Fine," he muttered. "Three months."

Sera’s face softened with relief, and as she stepped back, Adam could have sworn he saw something flicker in her gaze—a look he couldn't quite decipher, like a shadow creeping over familiar ground.

“Thank you, Adam,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Adam hobbled down the cracked sidewalks, each step sending a searing pain up his left leg. His limp was pronounced, his body pitched to one side as he dragged his foot across the cold concrete. He gritted his teeth, determined to ignore the sting that pulsed through his muscles. The air was heavy, thick with the smell of wet pavement, and he tilted his head up toward the sky. Clouds, dense and dark, churned above, and he bit down on his bottom lip, a nervous habit that made his skin burn where his teeth pressed. He needed to get home before the rain came down, before he was stranded on this miserable street with nowhere to go.

As he shuffled forward, the sudden screech of car tires cut through the quiet, sharp and piercing. Instinctively, he stumbled forward, his body curling defensively, expecting the metal impact that wasn’t there. His pulse thundered, and he froze in place, every nerve on edge, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The car whizzed past him, splashing murky water over the curb, gone in an instant. But Adam stood paralyzed, his limbs trembling uncontrollably. He wanted to cry, wanted to just release it all, but his body locked up, holding him captive in a paralyzed terror until the echoes of screeching brakes faded.

Only after a few moments of labored breathing did he manage to pull himself together, his heart still racing in his chest.

You’re okay, he told himself, forcing his feet to move, each step dragging as if through thick mud. It took ages, but eventually, his apartment building came into view, rising tall and gray against the darkening sky.

Inside, the stairs loomed before him. He thought briefly of taking the elevator but immediately noticed the way it jerked as it ascended, and the thought alone made his stomach twist. Resigned, he took to the stairs, clinging to the railing as he hauled himself up, each step an effort, each level an uphill battle until he finally reached his floor.

His apartment was dim and quiet as he unlocked the door, his hands shaking as he turned the key. Inside, the air was stale, untouched since he’d last left. He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, the faint sounds of life outside muffled. The space felt emptier than ever, the walls bare and dull, the sparse furniture casting lonely shadows in the low light.

Adam moved through the room with hollow determination, reaching up to take down every picture, every cross, every framed verse, his fingers lingering on each one for only a second before tossing it onto a growing pile on the table. Eventually, he reached his priest’s robes, hanging pristinely in the closet. His hand trembled as he reached for them, his fingers brushing over the heavy fabric. The red rosary beads, once so treasured, glinted faintly, catching what little light remained in the room. He shut his eyes, his grip tightening before he tore the robe down, stuffing it unceremoniously into a black garbage bag.

He used to take pride in that robe, used to steam it every week, make sure it was spotless. Now it looked like a stranger’s costume. He shoved the last of his ‘godly’ items into the bag, tied it up, and tossed it into the corner of the room, where it landed with a heavy thud.

Sinking onto the edge of his bed, he felt the tired springs groan beneath him. He glanced over at the Bible on his nightstand, its worn cover and dog-eared pages a reminder of the years he’d spent clinging to its promises. The sight of it made his stomach twist, and he looked away, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper Sera had given him from his pocket.

With a frown, he opened it, his eyes narrowing as he read the name: Morningstar Church.

A laugh slipped from his lips, bitter and mirthless.

“Isn’t that the name of the king of hell who fell?” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes as he crumpled the paper and tossed it toward the corner of the flat, where it landed near the black garbage bag, a useless relic among others.

Sighing, he dragged himself back across his creaky mattress, eyes wandering over the peeling paint on the ceiling. All these years, he had given away every cent, never spending anything on himself, giving it all to others in need. His bed, old and lumpy, was just one of a thousand little sacrifices he’d made. Well, perhaps it was about time he did something for himself.

The next morning greeted Adam with a searing pain, sharper and angrier than the day before. His leg throbbed incessantly, radiating heat that felt like fire licking up his thigh.

He groaned, the sound escaping his lips a mixture of frustration and agony, as he tried to roll onto his side. Every inch of his body protested as he forced himself upright, his muscles tense and weak beneath him. His feet hit the cold floor, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse entirely. Clenching his jaw, he reached for the small amber bottle beside his bed, fumbling as his fingers shook. He popped four white pills into his mouth, washing them down with a gulp of water that did little to ease the rawness in his throat.

Settling back onto the bed, Adam raised his left leg and massaged his thigh, his hand pressing into the sore flesh as though he could knead away the pain. The room around him felt ghostly and silent, an echo of emptiness lingering in the corners. His eyes, once bright with fervor and faith, had dulled, haunted by memories that seemed to cling to the walls. And then, almost reluctantly, his gaze fell on the crumpled piece of paper lying where he’d tossed it the night before.

He sighed, long and heavy. That promise to Sera lingered at the back of his mind, a haunting whisper he couldn't quite ignore. She had raised him, after all. And he was still a man of his word, even if the faith that had once fueled his promises had burned out like a dying candle. Once the pain in his leg subsided, Adam leaned forward, grimacing as he stretched out a hand and snatched up the note. The inked words seemed to taunt him, Morningstar Church. It sounded dark, ominous—more suited to shadowed alleyways than any place of worship. But a promise was a promise.

Adam let the note fall onto his unmade bed, eyeing it with distaste. If he was going to do this, he wasn’t going as a priest. He’d long abandoned the robes and the holy vestments that had once marked him as a servant of God. He’d go as…well, whatever it was he was now.

He forced himself to his feet and limped toward the bathroom, each step a reminder of the accident and the pain that had followed. In the shower, he let the hot water pour over him, hoping it would ease the tightness in his muscles. He closed his eyes, feeling the sting of steam against his skin, but the heat did little to comfort him. Images drifted into his mind: flashes of the past, the day he’d nearly died, the countless nights he’d spent praying to a God who had never answered.

He finished up, pulling a towel around his waist as he leaned against the cold bathroom sink, his reflection staring back at him from the fogged mirror. This wasn’t the face of the man he used to be. The weight of disillusionment had etched itself into his features, shadowed his eyes, and hollowed his cheeks. With a weary sigh, he dressed, choosing simple clothes—a plain shirt and worn jeans. He glanced over at his priest’s robes hanging in the closet, feeling a strange blend of resentment and nostalgia. Those days were gone.

With one last look around his room, he grabbed the crumpled note from his bed, stuffing it into his pocket. He forced his leg to carry him as he limped his way out of the apartment and into the shadowed, misty morning.

Adam considered walking the entire way to Morningstar Church, but reality quickly set in. The distance was daunting, too far for his ailing leg. A frown twisted his lips as he opened his laptop, fingers moving in slow reluctance across the keyboard as he searched for another way—something that didn’t involve the rumbling claustrophobia of trains, or the bustling crowds of buses. A glimmer of hope emerged when he saw he could take a ferry most of the way, with only a short walk remaining on the other side. He booked the ticket before he could second-guess himself, then packed a small suitcase with clothes, his pain medication, and little else.

Just as he was about to close the door, his gaze snagged on his cane, propped against the wall in the corner.

He clenched his jaw, a surge of resistance curling through him. He wasn’t old; he didn’t need a cane. He was only twenty-eight, for God’s sake! But his leg throbbed sharply, pulsing in sync with his heartbeat, a cruel reminder of his limitations. A low groan slipped past his lips, and he reluctantly reached for the cane, his hand curling around its handle. He hated it, the way it made him feel helpless, but with a deep breath, he steadied himself, wobbling as he took his first steps.

The cane traced the floor, soft taps echoing through the quiet hallway, and his green eyes misted as he hobbled forward, shoulders hunched, trying to shrink from any passing gaze.

The ferry terminal bustled with early morning activity, people moving about with the vigor of fresh starts and hopeful departures. Adam took a deep breath, relishing the cool, briny scent of the sea air as he shuffled on board. Leaning against the rail, he let the wind sweep his face, ruffling his hair and carrying away the stale remnants of his apartment’s solitude.

For the first time in months, he felt a hint of peace, albeit mixed with a touch of discomfort. A piercing squawk broke his thoughts, and he looked up to see a seagull swooping low, so close that he flinched, waving a hand to shoo it away as it banked and flew off with a smug-sounding caw.

He chuckled, a genuine smile breaking through his usual dour expression. But as he looked out over the water, thoughts of Morningstar Church crept in. Sera’s words lingered, tugging at his mind.

“He’s unlike anyone else I know. He has gifts…”

Her words had been shrouded in reverence, spoken with a mixture of admiration and caution. What could she mean? A priest with “gifts”—it sounded ludicrous. Adam scoffed, the sound swallowed by the crashing waves, but he couldn’t shake the curiosity that wriggled into his mind.

Why had she never mentioned him before, in all the years he’d spent under her wing, devoting himself to the church? She’d spoken so highly of him, yet this was the first time she’d even hinted at the man’s existence. And if this priest was as extraordinary as Sera claimed, why was he hiding away in some obscure parish? The church didn’t exactly bury its shining stars; it polished them, put them on pedestals for all to see. It made no sense.

Adam gripped the railing a little tighter as the sea breeze brushed against his face. What kind of man could elicit such loyalty from Sera, a woman as steadfast and pragmatic as any he’d known? She’d raised him with a strict hand, molding him into a man of unwavering faith—or so she thought. And now here she was, pushing him toward this stranger, promising he could be…what? Different?

Adam scoffed again, shaking his head at the idea. He’d been around priests his entire life, seen every manner of sermon and ceremony, and he knew that beneath the robes, most were just men—flawed and ordinary, prone to the same human weaknesses as anyone else.

But as the ferry rocked gently beneath him, he couldn’t help the shiver that traced his spine, a nagging feeling that Sera had seen something in him, some vulnerability, that had led her to speak those words. He was a man without faith, a husk of what he once was, yet here he was, journeying toward the very thing he no longer believed in.

The ferry cut through the waves, and Adam closed his eyes, letting the salt air wash over him.

After a full day and night of endless water, Adam finally reached the shores of Italy, exhausted and sore from the journey. As he staggered down the gangway, his leg stiffened painfully with each step, and he gripped his suitcase tightly, fingers pale against the worn leather handle. The morning sun was barely lifting above the horizon, casting the cobbled streets in a soft, silvery light that glinted off the rooftops of old, stone-walled buildings.

Adam’s gaze swept over the early morning bustle, taking in the mingling smells of fresh bread and saltwater. The town was stirring to life, with market vendors setting up their stalls and the clatter of bicycles down narrow lanes. His attention snagged on an old-fashioned carriage off to the side, its frame polished to a high shine, and a striking black horse standing proudly in its harness.

A sign above read: Carriage for Hire – Transport to All Local Sites and Churches.

Adam hesitated, then made his way over to the horse, the steady tap of his cane and the scrape of his suitcase’s wheels marking his approach. The horse shifted, watching him with dark, intelligent eyes, and he reached out, brushing his hand over the animal’s velvety nose. The woman tending to the horse looked up, a soft smile creasing her weathered face as she took in his rumpled clothes, the weary slump in his shoulders.

“How much for a ride?” he asked, his voice hoarse from travel.

The woman nodded toward his suitcase, studying him as if sizing him up.

“Depends,” she said with a lilt. “How far are you going?”

“To Morningstar Church.” He met her gaze, eyes shadowed but steady.

She chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the morning chill. “You don’t look like a man of God.”

Her tone was playful, but her eyes held a hint of intrigue.

Adam shrugged, lips twisting into a wry smile. “That’s because I’m not.”

Her eyebrows raised, surprise flickering over her face, and she laughed again, a quiet, knowing sound.

“Well then,” she said, glancing at the horse. “Morningstar’s a ways off, but not too far for us. You just hop on in, and Samson here’ll take you right up the hill.”

He nodded and climbed up into the carriage, settling back into the worn leather seat as the woman expertly guided the horse forward. The wheels clattered over the uneven stones as they wound through the narrow streets, the early morning mist curling along the ground like whispers from a forgotten time.

As the town’s buildings gave way to stretches of green hills, Adam felt the weight of the past few days tugging at his thoughts. His fingers tapped restlessly against the handle of his cane, and he found his mind drifting once again to Sera’s words.

The mysterious priest who was “different” from anyone she’d ever met, the one who had somehow warranted Sera’s highest regard. Yet she had never once mentioned this man before. Why now? Why introduce him at a time when Adam’s faith was already a withered husk, barely hanging on?

The carriage turned onto a winding, wooded path that led upward, trees arched overhead, casting dappled shadows that danced in the morning light. He couldn’t suppress the small shiver of anticipation that skated down his spine as he considered the stranger waiting for him at the church.

What was it Sera had said?

“He has gifts.”

The idea felt laughable, some relic of his past life. Gifts? Adam had spent his whole life devoted to the church, watching priests and bishops perform their “miracles,” most of which were little more than theatrics designed to inspire awe. He knew better now—knew that there was no divine power, no holy magic waiting to be summoned.

But still, Sera’s conviction had been unshakable. She had looked at him with such certainty, her voice edged with something almost like fear.

Give him a chance.

And so here he was, letting himself be drawn by her words to a place he could barely believe in, by the promise of a man who sounded more myth than flesh and blood.

As the carriage rolled around a final bend, the shape of a grand, gothic church emerged, its spires reaching skyward, dark against the pale dawn. The stone walls were adorned with intricate carvings, vines creeping over the lower stones like twisted fingers. Adam felt an unexpected surge of trepidation, his fingers tightening on his cane as he stared up at the imposing silhouette of Morningstar Church.

As the carriage wound its way up the final hill, the landscape unfurled around Adam in breathtaking detail. The air was crisp, the morning light spilling over high, rugged mountains blanketed in a patchwork of wildflowers. Clusters of red poppies, golden camellias, and vibrant carnations dotted the hillside, the flowers’ colors vivid against the deep green grass, like delicate brushstrokes on an old canvas.

The sky stretched open, clouds retreating to reveal an endless, cloudless blue, its intensity striking even to Adam, who had little heart left for beauty. He breathed in deeply, the sweet, earthy scent of wildflowers mingling with a faint hint of cedar from the surrounding woods.

But it was the church that truly captured his attention. Perched atop the hill, it loomed above him, a vast silhouette of dark, weathered stone rising against the brightening sky. Morningstar Church had a strangely haunting beauty that bordered on the otherworldly. Its gothic spires pierced the heavens, sharp and imposing, each one covered in twisting vines and streaked with age. The walls, though aged and worn, were intricate, carved with symbols that he couldn’t quite place. They were curiously detailed, almost alive, shadows shifting as the light played over them.

Red poppies clustered thickly around the church’s stone foundation, alongside swaying carnations and camellias, their petals like drops of blood against the gray stones. The flowers grew thick around the base, as if planted with a purpose, softening the harsh lines of the stone with their delicate beauty. The church’s stained-glass windows gleamed in the morning sunlight, casting vivid fragments of color—crimson, cobalt, emerald—that twinkled and shifted as though alive. The windows depicted scenes he couldn’t quite discern from a distance, yet the vivid colors and eerie intensity made them feel less like holy art and more like silent watchers.

Adam finally climbed down from the carriage, his gaze still fixed on the imposing structure. The church towered above him, dwarfing him to insignificance. For a brief moment, he felt as though it were watching him in return, its many spires and statues gazing down with silent judgment. He shivered, the weight of it pressing into his chest.

“That’ll be ten euros,” the woman said, her voice jolting him out of his trance. He dug into his pocket and handed her the money, grateful for the distraction.

She glanced over at the church, her eyes narrowing slightly before meeting his with a serious expression.

“Be careful in there,” she said, her voice low. “Things don’t work quite the same way in this place. Strange things have a way of happening, especially to newcomers.”

He opened his mouth, about to ask her what she meant, but before he could get a word out, she flicked the reins, and the horse snorted, hooves clopping as it started forward. The wheels jolted over the stones, and she was already pulling away, her cryptic words lingering in the air like smoke.

Adam stared after her, blinking in confusion, his mouth slightly open as he watched the carriage rumble away. Her warning echoed in his mind, gnawing at him, a whisper of foreboding threading through his thoughts. But with a shrug, he turned back to the church, figuring it was best not to read too much into the strange words of a local.

The pathway to Morningstar was narrow, lined with white stones that glowed faintly in the sunlight. He stumbled forward, cane tapping lightly against the stones as he approached, his gaze locked on the massive doors of the church. The closer he got, the more he noticed—the slight chips in the stone, the creeping vines that seemed to pulse with life, the subtle carvings that shifted and changed depending on the angle. Above the entrance, a massive stained-glass window sparkled, the fractured light within casting colors onto the pathway, vivid against the pale stone.

Adam found himself at the church’s threshold, feeling smaller than ever beneath its shadow, the building looming over him with a weight that pressed down like a judgment. The sunlight caught the glass panels at odd angles, making them shimmer and wink in strange patterns, as though beckoning him inside—or warning him away. He hesitated, hand gripping the handle of his cane a little tighter as he stood before the church, trying to steady his breath.

Adam’s hand trembled as he reached for the grand doors of Morningstar Church, a sense of déjà vu sinking into his bones, bringing with it the long-buried memory of his mother’s face. He could feel her hand leaving his, hear her quiet, sad goodbye as she placed him on the steps of the orphanage. He had been only three years old, yet every detail had been seared into his mind—the heavy door of the orphanage, the shadows cast by the high stone walls, the distant sound of other children’s voices drifting through the halls.

Now, standing before the ominous double doors of Morningstar, he felt that same smallness, the weight of abandonment settling in his chest as he looked up at the etched red glass set into the doors. The stained-glass artwork was unlike anything he’d seen before, intricate and almost hypnotic, a tangle of twisting lines and strange shapes that seemed to form images of angels and serpents, spiraling together in a haunting dance. He couldn’t quite tell what the image depicted, yet it held a dark, enigmatic beauty that left him staring, lost in its depths.

Tentatively, Adam reached out and gripped the iron handle. The moment his hand met the metal, a deep, resounding thud echoed through the doorway, as if the door itself were alive, its heart beating once in response to his touch. Adam jerked back, his pulse racing, the sound settling into the stillness like an omen. Before he could gather himself, he glanced to his side and froze. A statue stood near the entrance, its wings folded tightly against its body, six feathered limbs curling protectively around its form. Its hands, skeletal and claw-like, covered its face, almost as if it were weeping or hiding from the world. Shadows clung to its form, creating an unsettling contrast to the purity of the feathers, and for a moment, Adam could have sworn he saw one of the wings twitch, just a slight, almost imperceptible movement.

A cold shiver skittered up his spine, but then the doors swung open without a sound. He whipped his head back, heart pounding, and found himself staring at a woman framed in the dim light of the church interior. She was unlike any nun he had ever seen. Her veil was pristine white, edged in red, barely containing the golden cascade of her hair that fell loose down her back. Her tunic, also white, was adorned with crimson crosses at the hem, each one an inverted symbol that set Adam’s heart to an uneasy flutter. Her lips curved into a half-smirk as her cool eyes met his, glinting with a hint of amusement at his reaction.

“Mr. Claybone, I presume?” she said, her voice like silk, dark and soft, slipping around his name in a way that made him shiver.

He blinked, scrambling to respond. “Yes… that’s me.”

A low, indulgent chuckle slipped past her lips as she stepped back, the white folds of her tunic swaying around her ankles, and beckoned him forward. “Come inside, please, Mr. Claybone. We have been expecting you.”

Adam hesitated, stealing one last glance at the looming entrance, but finally, he took a step forward, then another, crossing the threshold with a strange mix of trepidation and anticipation.

The inside of Morningstar Church was rich and opulent, dark oak beams arching overhead and casting a deep warmth that felt both welcoming and foreboding. Flickering candles lined the walls, casting an otherworldly glow that made the wood gleam with a life of its own, their light bouncing off high arches and illuminating intricate carvings along the pews and altar. Strange symbols, twisted and mysterious, adorned the walls, etched into the dark wood with such precision that they seemed to pulse beneath the flickering flames. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, its arms twisting upward in elegant spirals, each crystal glinting like captured starlight.

Despite the church’s beauty, the air inside was thick, heavy with a scent that was not quite incense—a strange, earthy aroma with hints of something almost metallic. It lingered around him, heady and unsettling, and Adam felt as though he had entered not a house of God, but a realm caught between worlds.

As he took in his surroundings, the woman’s voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him back to reality.

“I am Sister Lilith,” she introduced herself, her tone laced with an edge of cold amusement. “One of the head nuns here at Morningstar Church.”

Adam turned to her, unnerved by the way her gaze lingered on him, unblinking, as if she could see straight through him, peeling back every layer of pretense and exposing each hidden fault. Her eyes gleamed with an almost predatory intensity, a look that left him feeling vulnerable, exposed in a way that was both terrifying and strangely alluring.

“Well… Sister Lilith,” he managed, his voice catching slightly.

He swallowed, trying to collect himself, but her gaze never wavered. “Sister Sera recommended that I… visit.”

“Yes, she did,” Lilith replied, her lips curving in a slight, enigmatic smile. “Sera holds you in very high regard. She’s told us much about you. And she thought, perhaps, you’d find what you need here.”

Her eyes glinted with something dark and knowing, a look that left Adam feeling as though she knew far more than she was letting on.

Adam’s pulse quickened, a sense of unease prickling beneath his skin. This place… it was nothing like the churches he had known. There was a strangeness here, something that seemed to pulse just beneath the surface, something watching, waiting. And yet, as he looked around the shadowed expanse of the church, a small part of him—a part he didn’t want to acknowledge—felt drawn in, captivated by the mystery that lingered in every shadowed corner and echoed in the silent spaces between the candlelight.

“Come,” Lilith said softly, gesturing for him to follow her. “There’s much for you to see. And perhaps, in time, Morningstar will offer you something you did not expect.”

Adam’s heart pounded, his fingers tightening around the handle of his cane as he took a step forward, following Lilith into the heart of the church. Each step echoed in the silence, the soft thud of his cane matching his uneven stride as they walked deeper into the dark, hallowed space.

Adam felt Lilith’s unsettling gaze linger as she led him through the winding corridors of Morningstar Church. The ancient oak walls seemed to absorb every sound, and the silence only made the whispers of his cane against the floor echo louder. Eventually, they emerged into an open courtyard in the heart of the church, sunlight pouring in from above, giving the place an eerie, dreamlike quality.

Children sat in neat rows, wearing dark, uniformed attire that was almost out of time, as if plucked from a different era. A nun, dressed identically to Lilith, stood among them. Her presence was unsettling in its own way. She had wild, blood-red curls cascading over her shoulders, large amber eyes that glinted strangely in the light, and a freckled face that seemed almost too animated as she led the children in a song Adam didn’t recognize.

The nun’s voice carried through the courtyard, each word lilting and strange, like a chant in a language long forgotten. The children’s voices blended with hers, haunting and beautiful, yet completely unintelligible to Adam. He felt an uncomfortable prickling up his spine as he listened, the melody stirring something deep within him—an ache that he couldn’t place.

“Is that… Latin?” he finally asked, his voice almost a whisper, reluctant to break the trance that had settled over the courtyard.

Lilith gave him a sly smirk. “Why, yes, yes it is. Do you speak it?”

Adam shook his head slowly, his gaze still fixed on the red-haired nun as she led the children in the song, her gaze shifting briefly to him with a knowing smile. “Er… no, I don’t. I… probably would have. I mean, it was my mother’s language and…”

He glanced at Lilith, catching the unnerving intensity of her gaze, and quickly looked away.

Clearing his throat, Adam tried to steady himself.

“Did you… choose the décor of the church yourself?” He tried to keep his tone light, but the question felt clumsy, out of place among the darkened stone and ancient walls.

Lilith’s mouth twisted into a smirk, the amusement dancing in her cold eyes. “Don’t like it?”

Adam flushed, waving his hands in a panicked gesture. “Oh, no! I didn’t mean… I mean, it’s a lovely church, just…”

He trailed off, his words fumbling as he struggled to explain without offense.

She laughed, a low, knowing sound, before turning away with a small shake of her head. “I’m aware of the church’s unique… presence. But that’s the way he likes it.”

Adam blinked, momentarily taken aback.

“He?” he echoed, unsure he’d heard her correctly.

Lilith’s eyes glittered, her smile widening in a way that was almost predatory. “The church is run by Morningstar himself, and he is very eager to meet you.”

“Morningstar…?” Adam’s voice wavered as he tried to keep his confusion in check. “That’s… a person? It’s not just the name of the church?”

Lilith leaned in close, her icy-blue eyes seeming to narrow into slits, a reptilian gleam flashing in them.

“He’s heard so much about you,” she murmured, her voice a velvet whisper that chilled him to the bone. “He is practically salivating at the mouth.”

Adam swallowed, feeling the strange weight of her words settle around him like a dark cloak.

“Oh…” He fumbled for something, anything, to say, before mumbling, “And… where is he now?”

Lilith tilted her head, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. Without another word, she gestured for him to follow, turning with a sudden grace that left him scrambling to catch up.

As they left the courtyard, Adam stole a glance back at the children, only to find each one staring at him with an unnatural intensity, their eyes following his every move with eerie synchronization. When he waved awkwardly, the entire group lifted their hands, waving back in perfect unison. The red-haired nun only grinned at him, her gaze like a spark of fire against the cold stone walls.

A shiver crawled over his skin as he turned away, trailing behind Lilith as she led him down a long, darkened corridor. Shadows clung to the walls, the silence heavy as they reached a narrow staircase with a black oak door looming at the top. Lilith stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs, her gaze steady as she turned to him.

“This is Morningstar’s office,” she said coolly, gesturing up the steps. “Just go up and go in.”

Adam’s gaze drifted to the door, its heavy frame exuding a dark presence that made his stomach clench.

“Um… just go in?” he repeated, feeling an absurd sense of hesitation at the simplicity of her instruction.

Lilith’s smirk widened, her gaze almost mocking as she nodded. “Of course. He is expecting you.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned sharply on her heel, golden curls bouncing as she disappeared down the corridor.

He stared after her, waiting until her form melted into the shadows before muttering, “Weirdo.”

Then, with a resigned sigh, he turned back to the looming black door, his hand hesitating over the handle. Every instinct in him screamed to turn and leave, to flee the creeping dread that clawed at him, but something deeper, a flicker of curiosity or perhaps defiance, kept him rooted in place.

The longer he stood there, the colder the air felt around him, wrapping his shoulders in a chill that seeped into his bones. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking a steadying breath as he fought the growing sense of wrongness that pervaded the church. With a sharp exhale, he gripped the handle and pushed the door open, bracing himself for whatever waited beyond.

Adam climbed the black oak steps, his skin prickling with each creak of the wood. The staircase seemed endless, spiraling upward, the air growing cooler as he approached the doors at the top. When he reached them, his eyes drifted to the crimson gemstones embedded in the dark wood, which shimmered like watchful eyes following his every move.

He clutched his suitcase tighter, seeking a momentary anchor against the unease simmering in his chest.

The memory of Sister Lilith’s intense gaze flared in his mind, unsettling him. She had unnerved him with just a look; he couldn’t begin to imagine what Morningstar himself would be like. Summoning his courage, he balanced his cane against his suitcase and raised his hand, his knuckles brushing lightly against the wood in an uncertain knock. But before he could knock again, the door jolted and slid open on its own, revealing…no one.

He hesitated, his feet rooted to the floor, until a silken voice drifted from within, smooth and dark. "You were told to come straight in, were you not?"

Adam jerked in surprise, mouth opening and shutting as he stammered, "Oh, um… yes, r-right."

He stepped into the dim room, where slivers of sunlight cut through the thick blinds, painting faint stripes across the black oak floors. The room was shadowed, yet a strange warmth hung in the air, coaxing him further inside.

Then he saw him—the man leaning casually against a massive ebony desk, his posture relaxed but undeniably commanding. His skin was so pale it seemed to glow, a stark contrast to the black and red attire that hugged his slender form. His hair, blonde streaked with delicate coral highlights, was slicked back save for one rebellious tuft, giving him an air of composed disarray. His eyes were hypnotic, a swirl of gold sclera and vibrant red pupils, narrowed into slits like a serpent’s.

Adam’s gaze roamed over the man’s attire, a strange but elegant blend of priestly vestments and something… more personal, more seductive. A rich red clerical collar sat snug around his neck, matching the stole lined with upside-down black crosses.

The outfit was completed with a fitted black coat over a blood-red waistcoat, heeled knee-high black boots, and dark gray gloves that hinted at something both formal and fiercely individualistic. And atop it all, a black top hat adorned with a coiled red snake, as though an emblem of something powerful and forbidden.

The man’s grin spread wider as he caught Adam staring, baring razor-sharp teeth that glinted even in the dim light.

“Like what you see?" he asked, his voice a low, seductive purr that twisted around Adam like smoke.

Adam flushed, suddenly feeling very small and entirely out of place.

“I, uh, I—sorry, I just… well, I didn’t expect…" His voice faltered, words tangling on his tongue.

The man chuckled, pushing off the desk with a catlike grace, and took a smooth step toward Adam. "No need to apologize."

He let his gaze roam over Adam with brazen intensity, lingering in a way that made Adam’s skin tingle. "So, you’re the one Sister Lilith has been so… curious about."

His fingers brushed the edge of Adam’s sleeve, trailing deliberately over his arm as he moved closer. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lucifer Morningstar."

Adam blinked furiously, his mind scrambling to process what he’d just heard. The name rang through his thoughts, and despite the strange tension curling around them, he found himself letting out an awkward laugh. "Lucifer Morningstar? You can’t be serious."

Lucifer’s smile didn’t falter; if anything, it grew wider, a glint of something dangerous sparking in his eyes. "Oh, I’m absolutely serious."

He stepped even closer, his fingers continuing their deliberate path along Adam’s arm. "What, exactly, do you find so amusing about my name?"

Adam’s face flushed a deeper shade, his voice little more than a stammer. "Well, it’s just… Lucifer’s… a fallen angel."

"Yes," Lucifer murmured, his voice a seductive hum, "He is."

His fingers continued to trail along Adam’s arm, sending shivers across his skin. "And the King of Hell."

Adam nodded, finding himself drawn into the mesmerizing gaze that bore into him. "Exactly."

Lucifer let out a soft, amused chuckle, sliding his hand further up Adam’s arm, pressing his touch against his shoulder now, lingering just long enough for the touch to feel suggestive. "And why is that a problem?"

Adam swallowed hard, his mouth going dry as he struggled to form words. "I—um, I didn’t mean it was a problem, it’s just… unusual."

"Unusual?" Lucifer’s voice was teasing, darkly playful. "So, you think I’m unusual, Adam?"

His fingers traced gentle circles over Adam’s shoulder, a touch both possessive and unnervingly intimate.

Adam’s breath hitched, and he managed a weak nod, unable to look away from the intense stare pinning him in place. "Yes… I mean, no, I mean…"

He laughed nervously, trying to shake off the flush creeping over him. "It’s just… I wasn’t expecting… you."

Lucifer’s smile softened, though his eyes remained locked on Adam’s, his voice dropping to a silken whisper. "Well, Adam, life has a way of bringing us exactly what we don’t expect."

He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart, and Adam could feel the faint warmth of Lucifer’s breath against his cheek. "You’re here because you were invited… and because you were meant to be here."

His hand slid up to rest on the back of Adam’s neck, pulling him just a touch closer, a faint smirk playing at his lips. "Tell me, Adam, are you… afraid?"

Adam’s heart thundered, and his breath quickened as he tried to steady himself.

“I… no," he whispered, although his voice wavered, betraying the thrill of uncertainty that danced through him. He felt as if he were balancing on the edge of something dangerous and unknown, something thrilling.

Lucifer chuckled softly, the sound curling through the air like velvet.

“Good," he murmured, fingers sliding slowly from Adam’s neck to his collarbone, each touch lingering. "You may not know it yet, Adam, but you belong here… perhaps more than anyone."

Adam’s eyes widened, his breath catching as he felt the weight of Lucifer’s words wrap around him, dark and alluring, pulling him deeper into the mystery of Morningstar Church. He was no longer sure where he stood—or who he was standing before—but one thing was clear: there would be no turning back now.

Lucifer’s eyes sparked with amusement, that serpentine smile never faltering as he watched Adam stumble over his own thoughts, unsure how to respond to the unnerving blend of curiosity and intimacy in Lucifer's gaze.

Just as Adam began to find his footing, Lucifer’s expression shifted, his tone growing serious yet still edged with that playful intensity.

“Now, down to business.” Lucifer’s voice softened, a touch more sinister. “I’ve been informed by Sister Sera that you’re… troubled, questioning your faith.”

His eyes met Adam’s with a gaze so piercing it was as if he could look through to his very soul. “Is it true you no longer believe in God?”

Adam’s breath hitched, bristling at the invasive question.

“And what did Sera tell you, exactly?” he asked, his words more defensive than he intended.

But Lucifer only chuckled, lifting a hand to pat Adam’s cheek with gentle, mocking affection.

“Oh, Sera hasn’t told me much,” he replied, his tone deceptively soft, “Only that your faith, as she put it, is being challenged.”

Adam scoffed, rolling his eyes, trying to hide his discomfort.

“It’s not being challenged,” he snapped. “I just… don’t believe in Him anymore.”

A gleam of curiosity flickered in Lucifer’s eyes.

“Go on,” he urged, leaning closer, his gaze unwavering, as if eager to consume every word.

Adam found himself struggling to explain, each sentence slipping from his grasp under Lucifer’s intense scrutiny.

“It’s… complicated. I was in an accident recently,” he began, feeling the vulnerability creeping into his voice. “I kept looking for… something, some sign that God was there for me. But He wasn’t.”

As he spoke, he could feel Lucifer’s eyes on him, like a heat burning through every layer of pretense. He couldn’t help the urge to shield himself, though he was fully dressed, feeling strangely exposed. Lucifer’s gaze seemed to linger on him in places he couldn’t see, and for a fleeting moment, Adam wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

Then Lucifer stepped closer, his fingers brushing along Adam’s left thigh with a touch that was maddeningly deliberate.

“Is that where your injury came from?” he whispered, voice low and sultry. Adam’s face heated, the words caught in his throat as he nodded, swallowing against the weight of Lucifer’s hand on his leg.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “It’s… I’ve got muscle damage. It’ll never get better.”

He laughed bitterly, looking away, though he felt the pull of Lucifer’s gaze on him. “Actually, they said it’ll probably only get worse.”

Lucifer’s hand lingered, his fingers tracing slow, contemplative patterns over the tense muscle, his touch both gentle and possessive.

“How fascinating,” he murmured, his fingers pressing slightly, as if feeling out every scarred sinew, every nerve. “And what would you do… if it could be healed?”

His gaze drifted up, his expression a mixture of intrigue and something darker, something Adam couldn’t quite name.

The question threw Adam, and he scrambled for words, the softness of Lucifer’s touch and the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t dared to consider something so impossible.

“I… I wouldn’t know. But it’s not… it’s just not possible.”

Lucifer’s lips curved into a smile, and his fingers lingered just a moment longer before releasing him.

“Mm. Nothing is impossible, Adam.” His voice was a low purr that sent a shiver through him. “Perhaps you’ve yet to discover what’s truly possible.”

Adam’s eyes dropped to the ground, his cheeks warm.

“Well… I don’t think I’ll be staying here long, anyway,” he muttered, as much to himself as to Lucifer, attempting to retreat from the strange vulnerability that crept up on him under Lucifer’s gaze.

But Lucifer only smirked, his eyes gleaming with an amused glint.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replied, his voice a velvety whisper. “We’ll see.”

And before Adam even registered what was happening, Lucifer had taken his suitcase with effortless ease, turning the situation completely under his control.

Lucifer twirled around him with a smug flourish, holding the suitcase firmly in both hands, his grin widening.

“Come with me, Adam,” he said, voice like silk, laced with something almost dangerous. “Allow me to show you to your chamber.”

Before Adam could respond, Lucifer was leading him down the dim corridor, the haunting echoes of their footsteps lingering as they moved deeper into the mysterious labyrinth of Morningstar Church.

Lucifer led Adam out through a hidden door, which he swept open with an air of practiced grace. Adam stepped into the hallway, noting the way it curved sharply into dimly lit alcoves and arched passageways. The floor seemed to absorb the light, giving the corridor an ominous, almost enchanted quality. The hairs on his neck prickled. He felt Lucifer’s eyes on him now and then, watching with a flicker of amusement that he was trying to ignore. The man’s pace was almost lazy, just slow enough that Adam didn’t have to strain to keep up, though his left leg throbbed a bit with each step.

As they rounded a corner, a hot flash of pain shot through Adam’s leg, and he faltered, nearly stumbling forward. His cane wobbled in his hand, and before he could brace himself, Lucifer’s arm wrapped smoothly around his waist, drawing him close. Adam felt the warmth of Lucifer’s hip pressed against him, steadying him as though it had all been planned.

“Careful, my dear Adam,” Lucifer murmured, his voice teasingly soft by his ear. “I’d hate to see you fall… so soon.”

His fingers brushed Adam’s side, lingering with a feather-light touch that made Adam’s skin burn.

Adam’s breath hitched, and he struggled to pull himself together.

“Uh—thank you, I—I’m fine,” he stammered, though he could feel the heat flooding his cheeks.

Lucifer’s arm didn’t move, and his smile only widened as he looked down, catching Adam’s flustered expression.

“Are you, though?” he asked, his voice a rich purr.

“You seem… tense. Is it the leg, or perhaps,” he leaned in, his gaze flickering over Adam’s face, “Something else?”

Adam’s mouth opened, but the words caught somewhere in his throat. He forced a nervous laugh, straightening himself.

“It’s… definitely the leg,” he managed, unable to meet Lucifer’s gaze. But Lucifer’s hand was still on him, fingers ghosting along his side, sending another involuntary shiver through him.

“Mmm. Is that so?” Lucifer’s tone was skeptical, though he didn’t pull away, instead tightening his hold just enough that Adam felt the press of his fingers through the fabric.

“You must forgive me if I’m making you uncomfortable.” He tilted his head, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Though, something tells me you don’t entirely mind.”

Adam’s cheeks burned even hotter, and he scrambled for a response, trying not to look as caught off-guard as he felt.

“N-no, it’s… it’s fine, really,” he stuttered, mentally cursing his own clumsiness.

“Thank you for, um, catching me. And… for walking slowly.” He dared a glance up, and the mischievous gleam in Lucifer’s eyes made his heart skip.

Lucifer’s smile curled into a smirk, as though he could see right through Adam’s words to the chaos roiling underneath.

“Of course, Adam,” he replied, voice dripping with a smooth satisfaction. “It’s my pleasure. After all, I’ve been looking forward to your visit… I’m hardly going to let you fall alone.”

Adam’s breath caught again as Lucifer’s thumb brushed over his side, a gesture that felt too intentional, too familiar, yet he couldn’t quite pull himself away.

He managed a strained laugh, looking down as he tried to recover. “Right. Well… I’ll try to keep up.”

Lucifer chuckled softly, finally releasing him but letting his hand trail down Adam’s arm in a way that left his skin tingling.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “I’d hate to lose you so soon.”

Then, with a flash of his trademark smirk, he turned and continued down the hall, beckoning Adam to follow.

Still blushing, Adam straightened his jacket, trying to steady his breath as he fell in behind Lucifer, painfully aware of every step he took, his heart pounding in a way he didn’t quite understand.

The corridor they walked down grew more enchanting with each step, transforming into something almost mythical. Adam’s eyes wandered over rich, dark wood panels embedded with carvings of twisting apple branches, each one blooming with delicate flowers and ripe, ruby-red apples. The air itself seemed faintly perfumed, a subtle hint of apple blossom and spice lingering in the shadows, as if the hallway itself were alive. Soft, golden light filtered through stained glass in hues of crimson and emerald, casting patterns on the floor like dappled sunlight under orchard trees.

He couldn’t help but murmur, “This… this is incredible.”

Lucifer glanced at him with a sly smile. “You like it, hmm? I thought you might. I had it done especially to… entice visitors.”

Adam flushed, caught off-guard by Lucifer’s insinuating tone. “It’s… different from any place I’ve ever been.”

Lucifer chuckled, a warm sound that was both comforting and somehow dangerous.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” he replied smoothly. They walked in silence until they reached a grand doorway, framed in dark wood with more intricate carvings, small apples glinting like jewels amidst the leaves.

Lucifer pushed the door open with a theatrical flourish, stepping back with a slight bow. “This, dear Adam, will be your chamber.”

Adam stepped inside, his breath catching. The room was vast, filled with the same apple-themed decor as the corridor but even more luxurious. An enormous, canopied bed took center stage, draped with velvet in deep reds and greens, almost like an autumn harvest. Dark wood furniture with carved apple motifs framed the space, and a large window on one side let in filtered sunlight through apple-red and leaf-green stained glass.

“This is… it’s so much bigger than anything I’ve ever stayed in before,” he said, eyes wide with wonder. “Are you sure I’m supposed to use this room?”

Lucifer chuckled softly, watching Adam with an indulgent smile. “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t have given it to you otherwise.”

Adam flushed, bowing his head slightly. “Thank you. Really.”

Lucifer crossed the room and set Adam’s suitcase down gently by the bed, then turned, his gaze darkening with that mischievous glint as he walked back to Adam.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.” His fingers trailed lightly along Adam’s cheek, lingering just enough to make Adam’s skin tingle.

“After all, we’ll be spending quite a lot of time together.”

“We… will?” Adam whispered, not trusting his own voice.

Lucifer’s smirk widened as he slipped his other hand along Adam’s chest, fingers pressing just enough to feel his heartbeat. “Mmm, yes. You see, here at Morningstar, you’re going to experience things you’ve never felt before.”

Adam’s breath caught. “Like… like what?” he asked, feeling strangely shy yet unable to resist the pull of Lucifer’s gaze.

Lucifer leaned closer, lips hovering near Adam’s ear.

“Would you like… an example?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Adam nodded, the heat rising to his cheeks as he struggled to keep his breath steady. In a swift motion, Lucifer slid an arm around Adam’s waist, drawing him close until their bodies were pressed together, the warmth between them electric.

Lucifer leaned forward, his gaze lingering on Adam’s parted lips before whispering, “Remember, you asked for this… so don’t regret it.”

And before Adam could say a word, Lucifer closed the distance, capturing Adam’s lips in a kiss that stole the breath from him. Adam’s eyes went wide as warmth surged through him, flooding him with an intense, dizzying heat that made his heart skip and race all at once. Lucifer’s hand held him close, the softness of his lips contrasting with the hunger in his kiss, igniting something deep within Adam that left him almost trembling.

As Lucifer’s lips met Adam’s once again, the kiss deepened, a slow and tantalizing invasion that left Adam weak-kneed and breathless. Lucifer’s tongue brushed Adam’s own with an almost playful intensity, sending a shock of heat through him that made his grip on reality feel just as tenuous as his trembling stance. When Lucifer finally pulled back, Adam could barely catch his breath, his heart pounding and his cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Adam’s knees gave way, but Lucifer’s arm held him firmly. With a purr, Lucifer’s hand caressed Adam’s face as he guided him to sit on the edge of the bed, his touch gentle but possessive.

“Aw, did I take your breath away?” Lucifer murmured, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he leaned down to press another sweet, lingering kiss to Adam’s lips.

Adam’s head spun, and he struggled to form any words as Lucifer chuckled, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along Adam’s jawline.

“You’re just too cute, Addie,” he whispered. “I don’t think I can stay away~”

Lucifer gave Adam one last teasing kiss before stepping back with an almost playful grace, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he looked into Adam’s dazed expression. Crossing his arms behind his back, he flashed a wink.

“Just so you know, I’m merely across the way if you need me,” he said, voice laced with a promise that left Adam’s breath hitching.

Adam could barely manage a response, still caught in the heady aftermath of their kiss. Lucifer chuckled, clearly enjoying the effect he had.

“I’ll leave you to… unwind,” he said with a grin, savoring the sight of Adam, thoroughly flustered. “But if you need me, you know where to find me. Addie~”

With that, Lucifer turned, a final smirk playing on his lips before he slipped out of the room, leaving Adam alone in the dimly lit chamber. As the door clicked shut, Adam collapsed backward onto the bed, covering his face with his hands as a groan escaped him.

What kind of place was this? It was nothing like any other church he’d ever been to. His heart still racing, he closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the overwhelming sensations that pulsed through him.

[inubaki]

Breeding, Hierophilia, Horns and Tails

As adoring as Lucifer was about his unfolding world, there were but few necessities he refused to overwrite. In their Eden, Lucifer plunged his shaft excessively into the precious man atop his lap. Relishing in the adorable stammers and broken bits of his name as Adam lost all concept of vocals. Lucifer was unrelenting in his assault to spoil more of the first man’s innocence all over Heaven’s Eden; marking his territory through Adam, physically and spiritually. Between them, Lucifer raised both talons to cradle the firm expansion of Adam’s stomach. Another alteration in sake of Lucifer’s most precious necessity.

And in kind, Lucifer pulled Adam’s hands to touch Lucifer’s own firming stomach. Brushing their pregnant stomachs almost lovingly together while allowing his human his breather.

Adam’s core squeezed his cock in protest, pulling a breathless laugh from the devil while willing himself to still. Taking possessive contentment in warming his cock deep within Adam’s pussy. No heaven to rip them apart. This time, Lucifer made sure.

“Don’t linger on them, Adam. They Never Deserve You…”

“They Never Deserved This Place”

——-

[krshpadoinklestuf]

Happy Halloween!! 🎸🍎 Day 29/31 of Adam’s apple harvest is finally done!

[inubaki]

Devil’s Night (and the breakfast after)

[inubaki]

Halloween Party -hidden-

Based off @cakerybakery version of a fem!Adam. Also based a tad on my own feminine design with the Peacock Au for Adam.

-both got anxiety at the Halloween Party and find a safe pace under the table to calm one another.

[daybreakerangel-2024-deactivate]

Adamsapple Harvest: Free day more like sleep day. 💤

[darkkone]

Well, here it's the end of October