Adam × Reader
That night in Valhalla, Adam couldn’t sleep.
Even in the world beyond death, peace remained elusive.
He stood alone on the balcony of the guest quarters assigned to humanity’s champions, his hands gripping the cold marble rail as he gazed at the northern sky. It shimmered with celestial fire—curtains of green and violet dancing across the heavens. A silent war waged overhead, reflecting the one that brewed on the ground below.
Far off in the training fields, he could still hear the clang of metal and the low war cries of warriors sparring—spirits long dead, preparing to die again in Ragnarok.
The end of all things.
He wasn’t afraid of death. He had known it once, and walked through it.
What unsettled him now was something else.
Someone else.
“Adam.”
Her voice came soft, nearly blending into the wind.
He turned.
{Name} stood at the edge of the balcony, her silhouette lit by starlight. She moved the same as she once had—graceful, unhurried, as though time bent around her rather than carried her forward.
“You came to see me,” Adam said quietly, as if speaking any louder might shatter the fragile night.
“I wasn’t sure if I would,” she answered.
For a moment, neither of them moved. They stood surrounded by the echoes of centuries—two souls older than most, bound not by fate but by the pieces they once left behind in each other.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said.
“I’m not a ghost,” she replied, her eyes on the stars. “Though sometimes I wonder.”
Adam looked at her—really looked. The silver in her dark hair. The small lines at the corners of her eyes, etched by time and choice. She was as radiant as he remembered. And as distant.
“Why did you leave?” he asked.
Her gaze met his, unwavering.
“You already know. Because I couldn’t be what they wanted. I wouldn’t pretend obedience was the same as love.”
“You left me,” he said, and it sounded like a confession.
“I left the role, Adam. The mold they tried to shape me into. And you… you accepted it. You accepted her.”
He flinched, not because it was untrue—but because it was.
“She’s good,” he murmured. “She’s kind. I love her.”
“I know.” her voice was soft, and curiously empty of bitterness. “That’s why I didn’t speak to you before. I didn’t come here to pull at old threads. I just wanted to see… if your eyes still remembered the Garden the way we saw it.”
Adam turned back to the sky.
He did remember.
Not as a paradise. But as a question. As a place full of wonder and fear. Curiosity and constraint. Love and loss.
They stood for a time without speaking. The wind carried with it a strange chill—perhaps the first sign that the end of the world had already begun.
“You’ll fight in Ragnarok?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“You’ll survive?”
“I don’t know.”
{Name} stepped closer. Her fingers found his hand, and the touch was like something ancient waking inside him. He closed his eyes, let his thumb trace the ridge of her knuckles.
Her voice trembled just slightly when she asked, “Do you regret it?”
He wanted to lie.
But this wasn’t a night for lies.
“Sometimes,” he whispered.
She smiled—sad, beautiful, knowing. “I don’t. But I mourn what might have been.”
A tear slipped silently down his cheek. Even now—especially now—he was still the first man. And he was still breaking over the first woman.
Then she turned and walked away.
Not vanishing. Not fading.
Just… leaving.
Like she did once before.
____________________
“Are you alright?” Eve asked him the next morning as they gathered their things for another briefing with Brunhilde. Her voice was warm, her smile effortless.
Adam nodded. “Just thinking.”
She kissed his cheek and straightened his collar like she always did. “We’ll win this,” she said. “I believe in us.”
He looked at her—really looked. At the woman who had walked with him after the Garden. Who had cried when their children were born, and when one of them died. Who had grown with him, from dust and into flame.
“I believe in us, too,” he said, and this time, he meant it.
But later, when he closed his eyes, he saw green—untamed and endless. A woman standing before a forbidden Tree, unafraid. Her eyes full of defiance, her hands full of questions. And he remembered.
Not with bitterness.
But with love.
The kind that lives in what could have been, but never was.
Don't and DON'T ever ask me for updates, I'll update this oneshot if I want to. Keep in mind that I have a life too, just like you. Writing stories are simply a hobby of mine and I appreciate if you'll wait until I update again.
Bye luvs
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