Can you pls do fluff with Adam I’m tired of seeing all the smut 💔 you can do whatever you want I just want fluff 🙏
────۶ৎ the first man, the first spoil.
or... having to deal with the attention-seeking tantrums of your favourite archangel !!
warnings : nothing!!
ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: ... HE IS SUCH A DICKHEAD I LOVE HIM.
( 🏷 @callme-holly , @johnnycadesslut , @cozm1xxx , @sugar-and-spite13 )
The celestial light of your personal pavilion was soft and warm, a gentle gold that soothed rather than dazzled. You were perched on a plush, divine-grade chaise lounge, the very picture of Seraphic grace, listening intently to a young Cherub named Lumen. He was a diligent soul, in charge of celestial logistics—a job that was, as he was explaining, currently a nightmare.
"…and with the influx of new souls from the Pacific Theater of the Second World War, the processing queues are backed up into the seventh harmony district," Lumen explained, his three sets of wings fluttering with mild anxiety. "The choir masters are complaining that the ambient praise-music is off-key because of the congestion. We simply need your guidance on how to re-route the flow without causing a cascade of bureaucratic paradoxes."
You smiled, a nurturing, calming expression that had soothed a million angelic anxieties. "Oh, my dear Lumen, you worry too much. The queues have backed up before. We shall simply open the auxiliary processing gate near the Sapphire Spire. It hasn't been used since the Renaissance, but the mechanism is sound."
As Lumen unfurled the scroll across your lap, the first, distant chord of a power guitar being plugged in echoed through the pavilion. It was not a gentle sound. It was an electric snarl, ripping through the serene soundscape.
You didn't flinch. Lumen, however, jumped a foot in the air, his wings puffing out like a startled bird.
BWAAAAAANG!
It was the sound of an electric guitar being plugged in and immediately subjected to violent, un-tuned strumming. It was a sound that screamed, 'Look at me!'
Your smile merely tightened at the edges. Lumen, however, looked genuinely startled.
From the arched entrance to the pavilion, a figure slouched against the frame, bathed in his own self-generated, faintly aggressive golden glow. Adam, your Adam, was wearing his favorite white and gold robe, but it was slightly untied, hanging slightly from one shoulder to reveal part of his chest. His halo was tilted at a deliberately careless angle. He wasn't looking at you; he was staring with intense, fake concentration at the neck of his ornate, gold-plated guitar.
Screee… waa-waa-waaa… BWA-BWAAAAA!
He played a series of notes that had no business being in the same celestial sphere together. Lumen winced.
"Adam, my love," you said, your voice even. "I am in a meeting. Can it wait?"
"Heh? Oh, yeah, no, totally," he said, still not looking up, his voice a study in false nonchalance. "Don't mind me. Just workin' on some new material. Gotta keep the setlist fresh for the next big gig, y'know? The masses demand it." He strummed another power chord that made the crystal decanters on a nearby table vibrate.
You turned back to Lumen, whose face was a mask of polite terror. "As I was saying, the Sapphire Spire gate. The activation sequence is a simple hymn in A-minor. I can have the score sent to you."
"O-oh, thank you, Your Grace," Lumen stammered, trying to ignore the fact that Adam was now slowly, loudly, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, his legs splayed out, still making noise with his instrument.
Dum… da-dum-dum… screee…
"It's just," Adam announced to no one in particular, "so fucking booooring when people talk about, like, paperwork and shit. In Heaven. Like, we're eternal, dude. We got all the time in the cosmos, and you're wasting it talking about queue management." He let the guitar drop with a clatter that was surely going to leave a scratch.
You'd sure have to hear him whine about it later, even if he had been the one to scratch it in the first place.
Lumen stared, terrified. You continued to look at the scroll.
"The progression here is quite complex, Lumen," you said, your voice effortlessly cutting through the noise. "See how many souls have been brought to heaven just today? It mirrors the birth of a nebula. It's supposed to be turbulent."
Adam's riff became louder, more aggressive. He started stomping his boot in a clumsy 4/4 time. Thump. Thump. Thump-thump-thump.
"Uh… y-yes, Seraphim," Lumen stammered, trying to focus. "The turbulence… is it… divinely planned?"
You were about to answer when:
"Hey, babe. Babe. Seraph-babe."
You took a slow, deep breath, the stars in your eyes twinkling with a mixture of profound affection and profound exasperation. "Yes, Adam?"
"What's for dinner? I'm starving. I was thinking, like, a whole roasted nebula. Or maybe one of those planets from that new system. The one with the rings. I bet the rings are crunchy."
Lumen looked like he was about to faint. "P-planets aren't! that's- that's not… culinary…"
"I'm talking," Adam said, his voice dropping to a low, petulant growl, his golden eyes finally locking onto the Cherub, "to my wife. So, like, maybe fuck off with your… your little wing-boy problems."
"Adam," you said, a note of warning in your tone.
"What? What did I do? I'm just hungry. A man needs sustenance. I'm the First Man! I have, like, metabolic needs! You don't want the progenitor of all mankind to waste away, do you?" He flopped onto his back on the floor, his wings splayed out underneath him. "I'm fading away over here. My divine light is, like, dimming. It's a tragedy."
He began to drum his fingers on his stomach, a loud, rhythmic thump-thump-thump against the fabric of his robe. Then he started humming. Loudly. Off-key. It was a tuneless, grating drone designed to be impossible to ignore.
Lumen was now visibly trembling, clutching his ledger to his chest like a shield. "Your Grace, p-perhaps I should… return at a more… opportune time…"
SCREEEEEEEECH. Adam dragged the pick down the guitar's neck, creating a feedback whine that made the singing lilies wilt. He finally spoke, his voice a loud, performative drawl aimed at no one in particular.
"Ugh. This place is so fucking dead today. Boring. Needs some… energy." He started thrashing his head, playing a series of power chords that had no melody, only volume. "Yeah! Rock and fucking roll!"
"Lumen, do not worry too much, this slight dissonance in the usual routine of things is not harmful-"
"OH, COME ON!" Adam yelled, abruptly stopping his "music." He let the guitar fall back onto his chest just to cover his eyes with his arm. "Are you still on that? he's just a squeaky-voiced little nerd whining in a key! Who gives a singular fucking shit about the path of whatever?"
Lumen looked like he wanted to discorporate on the spot.
You watched him for a long moment. You watched the way he peeked at you from under his arm, checking to see if his performance was having the desired effect. You saw the genuine, childish need warring with the performative brattiness. This wasn't just about hunger or boredom. This was about a soul, ancient and foundational, feeling insecure because your attention, for a mere fifteen minutes, was elsewhere.
The mother in you, the wife in you, the being who had brought him into this eternal life, softened. The logistical problem of soul-queues suddenly seemed infinitely less important than the problem of your pouting, divinely-appointed husband melting down on your marble floor.
"Adam, my love," you said, your voice still serene but with a hint of steel underneath. "We are having a discussion."
"Yeah, I can see that. A real thrilling one." He sauntered over, coming to stand directly between you and the cowering Cherub. He loomed over Lumen, his golden glasses reflecting the Cherub's terrified face. "What's the problem, pipsqueak? Your halo too tight? Need the big lady to loosen it for you?"
"L-Lord Adam! I… I was just—"
You held up a single, graceful hand to Lumen, silencing his stuttered apologies. You then turned your full, luminous gaze onto the sprawling, whining archangel at your feet.
"Adam," you said, your voice dropping into a register meant only for him, low and resonant with affection.
He went perfectly still.
"Yes?" he asked, his voice suddenly small, all the fake bravado gone, replaced by a hopeful, wary curiosity.
You sighed, a sound like a gentle solar wind. "Lumen, my dear, thank you for bringing this to my attention. The matter is settled. Use the Sapphire Spire gate. You are dismissed."
Lumen didn't need to be told twice. He bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched his knees, then practically fled the pavilion in a flutter of feathers and relief.
Silence descended, thick and heavy. Adam remained on his back, but he was watching you now, his golden eyes wide, his lower lip caught slightly between his teeth.
You slowly rose from your chaise, your form towering over him, your own magnificent wings unfolding slightly to cast a soft shadow across his body. You walked over and stood above him, looking down at the First Man, your husband, the bratty crybaby currently having a meltdown on your floor. He turned his face to the right to hide from your gaze.
You shifted slightly, the fabric of your robes whispering. "Adam."
He grunted, not looking at you.
"Look at me."
It took him a dramatic second, but he turned his head, meeting your gaze once again.
"You disrupted my council," you stated, your voice even.
"…You were ignoring me," he mumbled, a petulant child caught in the act.
"You were acting like a brat."
A faint, proud smirk touched his lips. "So? Maybe I am a brat. Your brat. You made me this way, spoiling me and shit."
He sniffed, turning his body fully around to be able to sit on the floor before you, looking up.
"…They always hog you all up," he whined, his voice taking on a petty and abrasive edge. "I hate it. I'm your archangel. I'm the First Man, for fuck's sake."
"You," you said, your lips curving into a sweet smile. "are a total menace, my dear."
A slow, triumphant smirk spread across his face. "Yeah. But I'm your menace."
"You interrupted a very important meeting with your… cacophony."
"Important? Sounded boring as fuck," he grumbled, but he was preening under your attention, his chest puffing out.
"And you were incredibly rude."
"…Maybe." His smirk turned into a full-blown, shit-eating grin. "But you love it."
You knelt, the fabric of your gown pooling around you like liquid starlight. You reached out and cupped his jaw, your thumb stroking the stubble on his chin. He leaned into the touch instantly, his eyes fluttering closed for a second, a low, contented hum escaping his throat—a sound completely at odds with his previous noise.
"I do," you murmured, your voice a whisper that filled the entire pavilion. "But that doesn't mean you get away with it unscathed."
His eyes snapped open, gleaming with excitement. This was the game. This was what he wanted.
"Oh yeah?" he challenged, the brat returning in full force, though it was weaker now, more playful. "What're you gonna do about it, babe? Gonna smite me?"
You leaned down, until your faces were inches apart, your divine light enveloping him. "No, my dear, spoiled rotten, First Man," you cooed, your breath ghosting across his lips. "I'm going to listen to you whine and complain about your every little desire until you run out of breath. And then, I am going to make you some food. And you are going to sit in the kitchen and tell me all about your 'new material'."
The fight, the jealousy, the petulance—it all drained out of him at your words. This was his victory. This was his worship. Not the groveling of demons, but the indulgent, focused attention of his goddess. He wasn't just getting what he wanted; he was being given what he needed.
A sly smile replaced the smirk. "Yeah?" he whispered back in a conspirational tone, all traces of the brat gone, replaced by just the first mortal mal who just needed to be the center of your eternal and divine universe. "Okay. Deal."
