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gimmethatagustd · 6 months

Note

okay I’m here like two business days later with that request because my adhd brain forgot about it lmao

GHOSTFACE!! YOONGI!! I added the picture of yoongi because I had a very ~specific~ yoongi look in mind when thinking of this loll. I’m thinking Halloween party vibes?? or any other way that a costume would make sense. idk I’m making this request late at night so my brain is half turned off. I’m kind of letting you take the reins here and make it as spooky as you feel comfortable with. like I said I’d love to see your take on this because I love your mind <3

You've had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn't know is that he's had his eyes on you, too.

↳ pairing: yoongi x f!reader

↳ wc/date: 1.4k | October 2023

↳ warnings: dubcon, knife play, blood play, yandere vibes, mc is afraid but also turned on, mc is confused and so am i, slut shaming, humiliation, lowkey gaslighting/victim-blaming, a toxic relationship at the least, vaginal fingering, open ending, i wrote this half asleep and without editing

↳ notes: i have no idea what the fuck this is 🥲 pls forgive me. idk how this happened

↳ masterlist / taglist

↳ what was jai listening to? freak - sub urban ft. rei ami

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The wind kicks dry leaves across the sidewalk, swirling them around your feet. Twisting your torso around, you glance over your shoulder as you walk. One of your red stiletto heels falls in the crack between the slabs of concrete. Pain blooms in your ankle when you wobble. The sound of you sucking a breath through your clenched teeth is the only thing disrupting the still, crisp autumn air.

Until you hear it again.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

It sounds like metal on metal, perhaps the jingle of keys or buckles knocking into each other as someone walks.

Alcohol warms your cheeks and chest despite how revealing your red corset and miniskirt are. Still, you know that the sound following you ever since you left Jungkook’s Halloween party is real and not some alcohol-induced paranoia from walking home alone at two in the morning on Halloween.

Jungkook hadn’t wanted you to walk, but finding an Uber so late at night would be impossible, and everyone else at the party had been too drunk to drive you home.

Two blocks isn’t much at all.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

The sidewalk is empty when you twist around and try not to trip again. Streetlights cast shadows across the grass that could be people. Or animals. Or monsters. Creatures of the night.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly unlock the gate that opens to wooden stairs leading to the backdoor of your apartment on the second floor. You rush up the stairs as quickly as you can in the stupid heels your best friend convinced you to wear because they’re sexy, and you both thought they might help you catch the eye of a certain boy.

It wasn’t worth the trouble, though. The certain boy barely looked your way.

For a second too long, you stall, fumbling with your keys to find the one that will unlock your backdoor. Your fingers feel numb from the cold, and your reflexes are dulled by whatever was in the punch Hoseok made. Perhaps that’s why you don’t know what looms behind you until its body has yours pressed against your door.

Sticking your hands out, you try to stop yourself from hitting your face. It works, but now your arms are trapped between your body and the door. Your keys fall with a hollow thud, and for a heartbeat, the world is silent, like every creature in existence is holding its breath.

Every creature except for the one crowding you against the door. It breathes, hot and heavy, against the shell of your ear, scattering goosebumps across your skin. You’re burning up from its body heat, the creature big and firmly pressed against every inch of you.

But what makes your knees tremble isn’t the oppressive force of this thing sticking to you like a second skin. It’s the clink and then something cool and sharp pressed against your throat.

You can’t swallow down your nerves without fear of your throat bobbing against what you guess is a large knife.

“Are you scared?” a voice whispers. Soft lips brush the tip of your ear. Then a nose, buttoned and cold, drags along the side of your neck. “You’re being such a good girl, didn’t even scream.”

Fear clutches your heart, but that voice strokes a fire in your core. It’s sick how you shiver against the man’s chest because you know it isn’t only because you’re scared of him.

“You’re not funny, Yoongi,” you say with a shaky breath and do your best not to move too much when you talk.

Yoongi chuckles into your shoulder, where he’s nuzzled his face. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

The knife glides down your throat at the point with not enough pressure to break the skin but just enough for it to feel uncomfortable.

“Are you gonna let me in?”

It’s not a real knife. Yoongi is your friend; he wouldn’t threaten you. Or, at least, you think he’s your friend. He’d ignored you all night, though.

“Did you seriously follow me all the way here at two in the morning just to scare me?” You elbow him out of the way so you can bend down to retrieve your keys.

“Yeah,” Yoongi admits with a gummy smile.

Inside your apartment, you can get a better look at him. His costume is just his regular clothes with a Ghostface mask, though he isn’t wearing the mask anymore. It’s tied to one of his belt loops. The side bumps against the metal of his belt when he walks.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

“You’re ridiculous.”

Yoongi’s grin grows. “Jungkook didn’t want you walking by yourself.”

“Then why didn’t you walk with me instead of following me around like a creep?”

You kick off your heels and take ginger steps toward the kitchen, the balls of your feet throbbing. Out of the corner of your eye, Yoongi shrugs. His pretty black hair falls against his shoulders and curls into his eyelashes when he tilts his head to watch you.

“You knew I was there,” he doesn’t ask, just smiles when you roll your eyes.

Catching your wrist, Yoongi stops you from crossing the living room to the kitchen. His grip on you is bruising when he yanks you into his chest. It’s claustrophobic and makes your stomach churn when you twist your wrist, and Yoongi doesn’t let go.

“I’m thirsty.” Your voice comes out as a whisper, can’t manage to get any louder. “Let me go.”

“Interesting,” Yoongi murmurs. “I’m thirsty, too.”

You follow his eyes when he drops his chin to peer between your bodies. At the same time, you feel the cool edge of the knife drag up your thigh. The tip eventually catches on the edge of your miniskirt. In one swift motion, Yoongi flicks the knife up and cuts through the thin, stretchy fabric. A thin line of blood sprouts from the shallow cut his knife makes up the inside of your thigh.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, watching little dribbles of blood trickle down your leg. Heat spreads from the cut across your thigh and unfurls in your stomach.

The dim lighting of your living room reflects in warm tones within Yoongi’s dark irises. Squeezing your wrist even tighter, he walks you backward until your legs hit the edge of your couch.

“You liked it,” Yoongi points out with a tut of his tongue, his tone condescending and judgemental. The shame it stirs in your chest makes it hard for you to breathe. “Let me press you up against the door. Mark you up with this,” he twirls the knife around, making a show of how loosely he grasps it.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi brings the knife to your lips to silence you. The tip glistens with your blood.

“Keep quiet like a good girl for me, okay, sweetheart?” Yoongi kneels on the couch in between your spread legs. The position forces your ruined skirt higher up your thighs, exposing your sheer red thong.

You watch in amazement as Yoongi drags the tip of his knife up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your thong. Lightly, he drags the tip along your clothed pussy. It doesn’t cut you, but you can’t stop shaking because it could, and you don't know what that would mean for you if you admitted that you kind of want it to.

“Why are you–”

“Shhh, don’t play so innocent,” Yoongi murmurs. He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You dressed up so pretty for me. Look so good in red; I wanted to see more of it on you.”

The knife presses against the crease of your inner thigh and slices upward, giving you another shallow cut while cutting you loose from your thong.

You moan when Yoongi drags his cold fingers along your folds, dig your nails into his forearm when he plunges two fingers into your pussy and makes your muscles flutter.

“So wet for me, fuck, you’re such a slut,” Yoongi moans as your pussy greedily sucks in his fingers despite the press of the bloodied blade against your throat.

"Yoongi, please," you buck into his hand, urging him to fuck you faster. Your thighs sting from the cuts, and your legs are wet with little streams of blood, but you've never felt so close to an orgasm so quickly in your life.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take good care of you.”

Halloween 2023 Masterlist

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

#jai asks #souryoong #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #bts angst #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #ash!#halloween 2023 #ghostface killers

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narumi-gens · 1 month

Text

From the Ashes | Part One

Mei Mei x f!Reader

summary: Mei Mei arrives at your uncle's estate as a con woman. She leaves it as your savior.

warnings: 18+ minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, angst with a happy ending, historical (1920s) au, gothic romance, total rip-off of park chan-wook's masterpiece the handmaiden, con woman!mei mei, sexually and emotionally repressed reader, reader seems to be losing it a little at times, mentioned suicide, minor references to early 20th century japanese politics and colonization (for the history nerds)

words: 3k

notes: after two years, we're finally here! go watch the handmaiden if you've never seen it. it's maybe one of the most romantic movies of all time.

series masterlist

Before deciding to take on a job, Mei Mei always makes sure that she knows everything she possibly can about a potential mark. She learns their history, their routines, their likes and dislikes, as well as what skeletons are hidden away in their closets.

She bribes maids and chauffeurs and everyone else working in service who are treated as if they’re invisible. She digs into every record she can access through any means necessary. Whatever it takes to uncover every dirty secret the mark in question is hiding, she does.

It’s only when she’s sure that she’s left no stone unturned that she decides whether or not to go through with the job.

So, when word reaches her about the pretty little heiress sitting on top of a massive fortune, she finds herself intrigued and begins her discovery process. The picture that begins to form as she does so isn’t anything that she finds all that surprising or interesting.

You were orphaned at a young age and put in the care of your aunt and uncle. Your aunt died only a few years later, leaving your uncle behind as your sole guardian. From what she can gather, your life has been a sheltered one, as is usual for a woman of your status. You don’t seem to have many — if any — friends. The only people you spend any significant amount of time with are the staff working on your uncle’s estate and the man himself.

She’s almost certain that the remote location of the estate, which is nestled deep in the countryside, only contributes to the isolation. But it leaves her with a problem. With so few people who interact with you on a regular basis, she’s left with fewer sources of information than she would like.

However, what she is able to do is intimately familiarize herself with the terms of your inheritance. To inherit, you must marry and until you do, your entire fortune is locked away in a trust. The only funds accessible are the generous annual allowance provided to your guardian — your uncle.

Your inheritance is large enough that she decides to move forward with her con despite the gaps in her research on you. After all, big risks warrant big rewards.

So, she turns her time and energy into crafting her plan: under the guise of a lesser noblewoman, she’ll earn your uncle’s attention and an invitation to his lavish estate. Once she’s there, she’ll prey on your innocence and naivete, seducing you until she can sneak you away in the middle of the night and marry you, only to then cash out your inheritance and do away with you.

And then she’ll laugh without looking back as she makes off with your entire fortune.

When the time comes to put her plan into action, the first part goes as smoothly as she anticipated. Your uncle makes regular trips to Tokyo for business and Mei Mei ensures that when he does, they cross paths. Japan’s imperial ambitions in the region and colonization of Korea have only benefited the man’s financial status over the years, yet he’s still always looking for ways to grow his obscene amount of wealth.

All it takes are a few vague allusions to her being interested in both a new investment opportunity and a new husband for him to take the bait and she’s secured herself an open invitation to his estate to stay for as long as she desires.

She arrives in the countryside and at your uncle’s manor a week later and finds herself thankful that the car that was sent for her has a small glass window that separates the backseat from the driver. The partition allows her a moment to herself to scoff at the sight of the large house, which consists of two massive wings — one in the traditional Japanese style of wood and paper, and the other a Western-style multistory building of brick and stone.

The house reflects the country’s vast and hurried ambitions to Westernize over the past fifty years. Mei Mei has no fondness for tradition. But likewise, she looks equally down upon the uncritical admirers of the West. Everything she detests about the men who have led this country through the past two eras can be represented by this monstrosity of a house.

Of course, when the car comes to a stop in front of the entrance, she makes sure that it’s the awed noblewoman who greets your uncle and not the derisive criminal. The staff are lined up in two neat rows to welcome her, and standing right in front of them is you. And you’re everything that she’s pictured.

You’re prim and proper, your posture perfectly straight and your head respectfully tilted down. Your outfit is fashionable and undoubtedly expensive, but also much more conservative than what’s being worn in Tokyo. Yet when your uncle introduces the two of you and you lift your chin, it’s all she can do to keep a delicate eyebrow from quirking.

Because where she’s expecting to find a shy, innocent, and naive flower that's ripe for picking, she instead finds a cold, sharp ice princess looking back at her in return.

All you offer is a polite bow and a courteous, “It’s nice to meet you, Mei-san.”

However, it’s more than enough to pique her interest, leaving her curious about what lies hidden beneath your thick, hardened exterior.

And just as she’s planned, Mei Mei has ample time to find out. While she does have to spend her evenings with your uncle, entertaining his pathetic flirtations and dreams of acquiring her fictional fortune, business occupies his days, meaning that she can fill hers with you.

The two of you share tea in the sitting room and afternoon walks through the estate’s sprawling grounds. You sit alongside one another and read in the library. She watches as you sketch in a book beneath the towering sakura tree in the garden, although she hasn’t been able to catch a glimpse of what fills its pages.

As she spends more time with you, she begins to take notice of how your hands are always clothed in a pair of gloves that never extend past your wrists. The gloves are rarely ever the same set — sometimes they’re silk with a lace cuff, sometimes a rich leather that creaks with every absent movement of a finger, sometimes they’re the same shade as your skin tone and don’t stand out at all.

There’s something about the way that she never sees you without them that makes her think they’re more than a mere fashion accessory, but she can’t say for certain what the reason could be.

Your uncle encourages her to get to know you better, telling her that he hopes she can soften you with a woman’s touch. One night, with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a cigarette perched between two fingers, he mentions that it’s something that you’ve been without since you were young and your aunt tragically took her own life.

“There’s a touch of madness that runs in that family. My late wife suffered from it and I’ve spent all these years wondering whether my niece escaped it,” he says with a sigh of pity. “At times, I find myself unsure if she has.”

The man demurs to provide any more details, insisting that doing so would be too ghastly for the sensitive ears of a woman, particularly a pair as fine as hers.

His refusal to speak further on the matter to protect her propriety is one of the many things he gets wrong as she’s not only heard much worse, but she’s seen much worse. She’s done much worse.

None of it matters though as she’s already aware through her research into the family that your aunt’s body was found one morning hanging in the garden from the same sakura tree where you spend so many of your afternoons. What your uncle does let slip is that you were the one to find the body.

Finally, Mei Mei has at least one piece of the puzzle that is you.

Another piece is quick to come as it doesn’t take long for her to realize that for all of her scheming and plotting, you’ll never fall prey to whatever trap she manages to set. You’re much too sharp and distrusting for that, keeping her at a distance no matter how much she tries to close it. For all of the hours that you’ve spent together, you’ve never offered her more than cool formalities.

As she contemplates how to adjust her plan in light of this, the seeds of an idea are planted one day as she strolls around the house’s exterior, committing to memory every entrance and exit and window under the guise of appreciating the building’s unique architecture. Just as she rounds a corner of part of the Japanese-styled wing, she stops at the scene that she stumbles upon.

Three housemaids stand in a row facing her, although with their heads shamefully tilted down and gazes fixed firmly upon the gravel path, her sudden presence goes unnoticed. She takes a few steps back, peeking out from the side of the building to watch you as you go down the line, striking each of them harshly across the cheek one by one.

Despite the distance, she can hear the crack of your gloved palm meeting each of their faces and the cries they let out in return. However, she misses whatever scathing words you spit that have the maids looking so fearful. Suddenly, your hand darts out to grab the braid of the girl standing on the right, yanking it so hard that Mei Mei can hear her pained yelp clearly as you force her to the ground.

When you look down at the cowering girl at your feet, continuing to direct your vitriol at her, she’s finally able to catch a glimpse of your face. Across your pretty features, she finds the same coldness that she’s spent the last weeks becoming familiar with since she arrived. You then turn back to the other maids who flinch despite your hands remaining at your sides.

As much as she wants to stay and watch the rest of the situation unfold, Mei Mei decides to make her retreat. She can’t risk being discovered. This new piece of information is something to be tucked away for use when it serves her best.

Knowing that every set of eyes and ears on this estate belongs to your uncle, she wonders what the man’s reaction will be when word inevitably reaches him about your treatment of the staff.

However, dinner passes as it always does without any incident. Your uncle discusses his business in an attempt to impress Mei Mei. Mei Mei acts coy in return. And you speak only when spoken to — which is rarely.

The only proof that anything happened at all that afternoon is the red and slightly swollen cheek of the maid who fills your water glass and the line of tension in her frame as she does so. Mei Mei sees the way your uncle’s eyes barely pass over the maid’s face and realizes that the man already knows about this streak of cruelty in you, this hint of madness in you. He just doesn’t care.

As she watches you eat one grain of rice at a time, bringing your chopsticks back and forth to your plush lips in a delicate motion, she begins to recognize the darkness she sees in you. It’s similar to the darkness she sees in herself.

The next afternoon, she decides to confront you about the incident over tea, curious to see how you’ll respond.

“Why were you disciplining the maids yesterday?” she asks. She hopes to catch you off guard by both the knowledge that there was another party present for the maids’ punishment and by how suddenly she’s broached the subject.

However, you continue to defy her expectations.

“They were gossiping,” you answer simply, your temperament calm and undisturbed as you continue to lightly stir your tea before setting down the small spoon.

“Is that enough of an offense to warrant a slap to the face?” There’s no judgment or criticism in her tone, only pure curiosity. But the question is enough to have you lifting your gaze to meet hers, a cold look in your eyes as you do.

“I want them to be miserable,” you tell her indifferently as you lift your teacup to take a small, ladylike sip. It’s Mei Mei who now finds herself slightly surprised by your blunt response. “It makes life just a bit more bearable.”

She knows how to read people. And she can see what it is that you’re not saying. It’s not just that you want them to be miserable. It’s that you want them to be as miserable as you.

It’s the final piece she needs to solve the puzzle and she hides her satisfaction behind the teacup she brings to her own red-painted lips. A con woman’s greatest asset is her ability to improvise and she has always prided herself on her ability to think quickly, so the solution to her problem comes quickly.

Despite the risks, she’ll include you in her plan and turn you from unknowing target to willing accomplice.

The next afternoon when you both are alone on a stroll deep in the gardens and away from any unwanted ears, she makes her move.

“The terms of your inheritance are rather strict,” she casually remarks and there’s a slightest pause in your step that betrays your surprise at the deviation in perfunctory small talk and she can’t help but feel satisfied with how she’s finally caught you unawares. “You need to marry in order to inherit.”

It’s not posed as a question but as the statement of fact that it is. You remain silent by her side, seemingly unsure of where this topic of conversation will lead.

“Would you like to marry me?” she asks, a coy smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. It’s a question that provokes an immediate reaction from you.

“I have no plans to marry. Ever,” you’re quick to tell her. There’s a forcefulness in your tone that leaves little room for doubt and Mei Mei can feel the urge to giggle threatening to bubble up. It reminds her of the way spoiled children refuse to eat what’s been put before them at dinner.

“Yes, for us, marriage is just another cage,” she muses, settling for a thoughtful hum instead of outright laughter. Any lingering humor dissipates as she poses her next question, knowing how important it is that you don’t misread her or her intentions. “But what if I said that this one would set you free?”

You come to a stop so suddenly that it takes her a few steps before she realizes that you’re no longer beside her. When she turns around, she finds you watching her with a guarded expression. Your posture is perfectly straight, but she can see that it’s due to the line of tension in your shoulders rather than the etiquette lessons she knows were drilled into you as a child.

“I arrived here with a plan: to seduce you, steal your fortune, and then get rid of you.” With each word, she takes a step towards you until only a few feet separate you.

Your gaze remains locked on hers despite how you bristle with the visible urge to put a respectable distance between you once more. Mei Mei can’t help but smirk yet again, despite knowing that doing so will only feed into your distrust.

“But as soon as I met you, I knew that you would never fall for such a ploy.” She then takes on an air that’s only slightly more serious. “So, I’ll make a proposal of a different kind. I’ll spirit you away from your dull life in this country estate and give you your freedom. In return, we’ll split your inheritance right down the middle.”

While she doesn’t expect you to leap at her offer, she at least hoped for a hint of awe in your eyes at the idea of a life without the restrictions placed on you by both your status and society. Instead, you continue to give her nothing.

As the silence stretches on, she prepares herself to mention that fifty percent is more than what she would normally offer an accomplice. But before the words can even form on her tongue, you turn your back to her and begin to walk back in the direction of the house.

Part of Mei Mei expects to be hauled away by the police in the next few hours, but there’s something about your demeanor that keeps her from cutting her losses and running. For how unreceptive you seemed to be towards her proposal, it was your reaction to being offered your freedom that gives her pause.

The tension you carried didn’t stem from outrage, but from self-restraint.

That evening at dinner, you act as if nothing happened. You give your uncle the same perfunctory greeting, you bow lightly to her, and then you take your seat at the table.

She wonders if you just haven’t had a chance to be alone with your uncle and reveal her treachery, but when breakfast proceeds the same way, she realizes that you don’t intend to do anything with this new information. You’ll keep her nefarious secret to yourself, which gives her time to adapt.

Since her plan requires you to be a willing accomplice, there’s a fine line that needs to be walked so as not to scare you off. So, she decides to default to part of her original plan – she'll seduce you.

#tw suicide #mei mei x reader #mei mei #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #mei mei angst #jjk angst #mel writes #from the ashes

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akystaracer22 · 1 month

Text

Free the Bird from its Gilded Cage

Synopsis: Lucifer would tell anyone who asked his greatest regret was letting humanity eat the apple. Better than admitting what he really regretted.

Notes

Golly gee good thing affairs didn’t exist back then huh!

In which Lucifer’s tism hurts his best friend, the fic.

I think I can tag this as Edenpoly considering the conversation between Lucifer and Lilith.

I give my greatest thanks to my good friend Hat who uttered the phrase “I raise a glass to the friend you could have been and drink to the monster you became” (Or something of the sort) which has not left my brain 2 years later.

No shade on other people’s depictions of the ancient archangels. I love good archangels as much as you guys but… this is very much bashing.

I’m so sorry Michael. And Azrael, and every single angel who’s characters I butcher in this AU. It’s not you guys I swear.

God on the other hand fuck you I’m not sorry.

I have been told by many people irl that I have religious trauma. I didn’t think I did but fuck it we ball.

I am so sorry this came out late but I had two assignments and I'm moving houses, I'll try not to have a repeat.

Word count: 1957

Fic under cut!

Lucifer felt Lilith before he saw her, the first woman’s aura screaming frustration and hurt louder than the tears in her eyes.

She was sitting under an aspen tree with her legs tucked to her chest.

Lucifer didn’t need to guess why she was upset; it could really only be one thing these days.

“Adam did something again, didn’t he.”

Lilith huffed and lifted her head to meet Lucifer’s gaze, “We fought, again. He still doesn’t get it.”

Lucifer sighed and sat down next to the first woman, not for the first time the little voice in his head bemoaned Adams chronic inability to listen to anyone other than God. It was really starting to cause problems in Eden.

“He’ll regret it.”

“He always does, but he still does it.”

Lucifer nodded, “He needs to learn that God isn’t right about everything,” His siblings would murder him if they knew he was spreading this kind of blasphemy, “But I do agree, it’s a little irritating.”

“It is!” Lucifer jerked as Lilith stood up abruptly and began to pace, “He’s great most of the time don’t get me wrong, but he’s just increasingly growing more and more insufferable! It’s like every time he gets better he just goes straight back to being worse!”

“Truly the trials and tribulations of the first humans.”

“I just wish he would listen to me! Not some stuck up self-important know it all who thinks I’m worthless.”

Lucifer wisely held back the instinctive defence of the Creator, “Especially when you are so much more than that.”

Lilith seemed to finally run out of steam, falling back into Lucifer’s arms and holding him tightly, “I hate this… I hate him.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t… I hate the man God wants him to be.”

“I hate that man too,” Lucifer admitted, “I hate how he hurts everyone.”

Because it wasn’t just Lilith that was left hurting. Lucifer hated how he was losing track of the near silent breakdowns of Adam’s.

God created humanity different from the grand design, and every day Lucifer loathed that fact more and more.

“He’s going to win, that man.”

“Neither of us will let him.”

“He’ll let himself,” Lilith hissed right by his ear, the sound sending a shiver down Lucifer’s spine, by the choirs that felt good “Adams an idiot.”

“Yep!” Call Lucifer blasphemous, but he was so tempted to-

Lilith opened her mouth to say something, and Lucifer listened to the little voice in his head once again.

He caught her mouth with his own swiftly before pulling back, face flushing as he realised what he just did.

That was something only Adam and Lilith was supposed to do with each other.

Lilith blinked, taking time to process before giving her response, “Do that again.”

Lucifer didn’t need to be told twice.

The bark of the aspen tree was lit up by Lucifer’s wings as he pressed his lips to Lilith’s again.

And again.

Lucifer had never felt so good. He could see why Lilith and Adam like doing this. This felt so good.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

It was hours until Lucifer disentangled himself from Lilith, still not having quite recovered from the experience. Sadly, he could feel the mental tug attached to his halo signifying his siblings wanting an audience with him. The last thing he wanted was to have them come down and see him with Lilith.

The moment he returned to heaven however, he had the distinct feeling that he might have messed up regardless.

Michael was pacing and muttering angrily under his breath, sharp sounds grating Lucifer’s awareness. When the archangel saw Lucifer, his wings physically bristled as he lunged forward and grabbed the Morningstar by the robe.

“You are so very fortunate that God was already growing tired of Lilith’s rebellion!”

“What?”

“Michael,” Lucifer turned to see Azrael landing nearby, “I highly doubt Lucifer knows what he has done, as impulsive as he is.”

“What? What happened,” Lucifer demanded, mantling his wings to make himself look larger as he stared down the other archangels.

“You don’t know?”

“Know what!”

“God decided to give the first man a new wife,” Michaels words cut through Lucifer’s anger and left only shock, “Made from his rib.”

“… what?”

“Yes, I had to tear it out myself,” Michael huffed, Lucifer noticed the dried red still dusting the angels gloves, “Adam tried to flee.”

“…”

“What Michael means,” Azreal shot the other a look, “Is that Adam didn’t take the information well, and saw it fit to attempt avoiding the situation entirely.”

“He was awake?!” Lucifer screeched “By the choir what is wrong with you two?!”

“It was the Creator’s wishes, none of us knew it would bring pain,” Azrael sighed, “However, it would encourage not repeating the situation…”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Michael scoffed, “The Creator ensured Adam wouldn’t remember.”

“It would taint him.”

“It would motivate him.”

“What?”

“Our Creator has decided to take a more… hands on approach in ensuring the situation does not repeat itself,” Azrael looked uncomfortable, “Xe employed the use of divine power to keep Adam and Eve from straying from the grand design.”

Lucifer took a step back.

Michael opened his mouth to say something, but Lucifer couldn’t hear over the roar of nothing in his ears.

No.

Nononononono.

Lucifer ran.

He broke into a sprint before diving back down to Earth, landing on the soft grass of Eden he looked around desperately.

“Adam!”

“Yes?”

Lucifer turned around as Adam’s figure came into view from behind a tree, “Adam-”

His eyes were gold.

Lucifer stumbled back as he took in the first man’s appearance, Adam’s eyes were no longer the colour of earth. The familiar dark brown orbs that bore the gold of honey and of leaves in the sun were gone. In their place was the brilliant gold of divinity, of heaven, the same gold of the-

The chain attached to his wrist.

Lucifer lunged forward and grabbed his friends arm, pulling him forward and running a hand along the softly glowing cuff on Adams wrist.

It was definitely the Creator’s doing.

“Adam what have they done to you.”

“Ah, apologies, but have we met before?”

Lucifer’s golden ichor froze as he looked back up to meet that accursed golden gaze, “What?”

“It is just that… you seem familiar with me, but I do not recall ever having met you. I apologize.”

Lucifer stepped back from the first man, “What.”

“Were you present for my creation? That day was such a blur I hardly recall all those present.”

“Adam- Adam look at me,” Lucifer grabbed Adam by the shoulder, staring desperately into those too gold, too inhuman, too holy eyes “Adam. You are my best friend. You remember me don’t you?”

Adam’s eyes flickered for a moment, that familiar beautiful earth brown peeking through for a moment before being swamped by heavenly gold.

“You are an angel; how could I ever be friends with someone of a higher status such as you?”

Lucifer wanted to cry.

The Creator truly was cruel.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Lucifer couldn’t do this.

Lucifer shoved Adam away and ran like a coward, stumbling through the bushes and past trees as he ran away from the puppet wearing his best friends face.

He didn’t even talk like Adam.

The Creator just stripped his best friend of everything that made him… him.

Lucifer collapsed under a willow tree as he sobbed into his arms.

He didn’t move for a long time after that.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Lilith found him in the dim of night, her eyes sharp and he teeth bared in a rueful grimace even as she took him into his arms.

“We’re not letting them get away with this. Not this time.”

A hot flame of righteous anger sparked in Lucifer’s heart as he held onto Lilith. She was right, this crossed a line.

Lucifer wanted to rush in, to steal Adam away and find a way to break that chain.

Lilith told him to wait, to watch and observe as she would.

“Right now, heaven does not know about our rebellion, if we move too quickly we will both be destroyed.”

She was right, of course she was. Lucifer hated it though.

They had to watch Adam go through the motions of what his life used to be. The way he would no longer wander the garden without reason.

He wouldn’t play with the animals anymore or sit and relax under the sun.

Lucifer almost broke the trunk of a tree when he saw Adam tear out a plant Gabriel considered ‘too imperfect for the garden’ even though Lucifer knew that it was Adams favourite flower.

That flame of anger grew every time that damned shackle glowed and chained Adams will.

It took a little time to figure out, but if there was one thing Lucifer was sure would free Adam and Eve, it was the apples of knowledge.

They had to.

Lucifer and Lilith also watched Eve through everything. She seemed meek through the control of the Creator, but in the few moments the attention of heaven faded and the gold in her eyes let a little bit of reddish brown through, they got to know her.

She was gentle and sweet to the animals but there was a steel in her spine.

She was vibrant and wild as she chased the cheetah’s around the garden or buried her head in a grizzly bears side.

Lucifer grew to love her in a way. As little of her as he could see. But she was the one the Creator paid less attention to, and why would xe? She is supposed to be subservient to Adam.

Lucifer shifted into the form of a snake and curled through the branches of the tree of knowledge as she came into view.

Showtime.

“Eve my dear, may I borrow your attention for but a moment?” Lucifer sing-songed, drawing the girls eye as she stopped at the base of the tree.

“What is it you require of me, snake?” Eve asked, Lucifer watched intently as the telltale hint of red brown filtered into her gaze, this was the shot he needed.

“The fruit of this tree, could you tell me how it tastes to you?”

The woman flinched back as if struck, and Lucifer’s eyes narrowed at her response.

“I couldn’t, God said-”

“And have you not wondered why xe demands such things of you? Have you not questioned why xe forbade this?” Lucifer hissed, snapping off an apple and letting it fall to the ground at Eve’s feet, “I know, and that is why I ask this of you.”

Eve’s will fought with Heaven for a moment as she picked up the apple, but she was not gone yet, “God said that if I ate the fruit, I would die.”

“And the Creator lies to you,” blasphemy dripped off of Lucifers tongue as he all but snarled at Eve, the white-hot flame of fury envenoming his words, “To eat the apple is not to die, but to be freed. To have your eyes opened to the truth around you.”

Eve held the apple in her hands, the reddish brown in her eyes traitorously present.

“How do you know I won’t die?”

“Because my dear, I have had my eyes opened long ago. To open them is a freedom the Creator keeps from you on purpose,” Lucifer hissed, “You will not die, of that I can promise.”

Eve bit into the apple, and the chains snapped under the weight of knowledge granted.

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

oh, what a wonderful feeling (eddie munson x reader)

when you have a bad day with your chronic pain, eddie is prepared to take care of you.

→ warnings: none! pure, soft, good old-fashioned fluff <3

→ wc: 1.8k+

→ a/n: just some absolute softness with eddie taking care of reader with chronic pain, for my love @big-ope-vibes. divider by @firefly-graphics. title is inspired by the song "the man in me" by bob dylan, and i highly recommend listening to it as you read. <3

Eddie knows something is off the moment he walks through the front door.

Usually, you’d greet him with a brilliant smile and open arms. The two of you had it down to a science these days; he’d get off work at the local auto shop around five, and be home by six, you already waiting by the door as you bounced on the balls of your feet and prepared to exchange gossip of each other’s day. A glass of wine in your hand, a beer in his. He’d tell you all about the shitty customers of his day, ranging from the old man who thought he knew more about his car than Eddie (he didn’t) to the woman who had thrown a full-fledged tantrum when all of her obnoxious flirting didn’t come to fruition (he still charged full price). You’d catch him up on your office’s latest gossip, about the manager who was trying to seduce his scandalously young receptionist or the ongoing war of who was stealing Mavis’ lunch out of the communal fridge (it was the newest intern. It’s always the newest intern).

It was so mundane, so simple, and yet managed to be his favorite part of every day.

Except today. Today, he’d gotten home on time, even five minutes earlier than normal, and there was no sign of you or your glowing smile.

“Babe?” he calls out, toeing off his work boots, grunting when he has to accept defeat and lean down to untie the laces.

No answer.

“Baby?” he draws out the last vowel, glancing around the dark living room for any sign of you. The couch was empty, a soft throw blanket draped over the back of it. A mug of coffee from this morning was left to grow chilled on the dining table.

Finally, though his ears have to strain, he hears you softly call out, “In here.”

He heads straight for where your voice had echoed from, down the hall and into the bedroom. All the lights were off, and he made no move to turn a single one on. He already knew the layout of your shared apartment by heart, every creaking floorboard and every leaky faucet.

The moment he sees you laying in bed, face down into the pillow, a weight lifts from his shoulders. A warmth spreads over him, comfort swaddling him just like the first time he’d laid eyes on you.

It didn’t feel like he’d come home until he saw you.

“You okay, bub?” he asks gently. He notes the way the bed is still made, the comforter only ruffled from where your body dips into the mattress. The subtle shake of your head nearly breaks his heart. “What’s up, buttercup?”

He’s overdoing it on the nicknames, and for good reason – the muffled laugh that you release into the pillow you’ve buried your face into. It’s a symphony of gold to him.

“You’re so stupid,” you mumble, and he has to lean in as he crouches down beside the bed to hear you clearly, “‘S my back.”

The worrisome furrow between his brows smoothes out, his features falling slowly as he breathes out, both in empathy and relief, “Your back?”

There were good days and bad days when it came to your body and chronic pain. When the two of you first began dating, it had worried him to no end. He had nearly smothered you with an abundance of doting. But time and practice had finally equipped him to be better prepared for the bad days, knowing what to do when the pain reared its nasty head without driving you insane.

You finally turn your face, cheeks squished as you reveal your eyes to him. Big and glowing, even as they squint in pain, “Yeah. It’s killing me. I can’t even walk, it’s so bad.”

“Have you taken anything?” He's poised and ready to leap up, to retrieve whatever painkillers you’ve filled the medicine cabinet with. But when you nod, he relaxes, crossing his arms and resting them on the edge of the bed before mirroring the smush of your face as his cheek presses into his forearm.

“Four Advil. They haven’t done shit,” a frown settles into the corners of your mouth.

He widens his eyes dramatically, mocking your pout, “Wow, that’s a lot of Advils.”

“Don’t patronize me,” you groan, freeing an arm to throw it out into his direction, attempting to aim a slap to his forehead. He dodges it easily.

“I’m sorry,” he laughs out, dodging a second attempted slap, “I’m sorry! Sheesh, for someone in pain, you’re in a fighting mood.”

He finally stands and grimaces at his own knees popping with the movement, cursing his own aching joints at the ripe age of twenty five, before he settles to sit on the edge of the bed.

You must truly be feeling awful, because you don’t even scold him for doing so in his dirty work clothes.

“What can I do?” he asks, bringing a tentative hand to rest on your shoulders, feeling the tension even between layers of blankets and clothing.

You manage the smallest of shrugs, an ever-permanent wince gracing your features more roughly now.

“I just want it to…. To stop,” you grit out in irritation, “I’ve barely gotten any work done today, and it’s just gotten worse and worse. It’s shooting down my leg now, down my… down my… that one nerve, you know? The stoic nerve or whatever they call it.”

“Sciatic,” he corrects with a hushed chuckle.

“Right, sciatic. Anyways, I can’t walk, and I can hardly stand to sit up. And it was my one day off. I was supposed to do the dishes, and then the laundry, and then… and then walk Gertrude’s dogs….and…” you trail off your rambles as your body slowly relaxes. As you’d been speaking, his hand had moved in soothing patterns over your shoulder before traveling down the path of your spine, applying just the right amount of pressure that he’d learned wouldn’t inflict any more unnecessary pain. Instead, it would simply soothe you, as it is right now.

“I’m sure Gertrude can walk her own mutts,” he muses of your elderly neighbor as you sigh out deeply, “And I can handle doing the dishes and laundry. I’m a big boy.”

“You couldn’t even tie your own shoes this morning,” you remind him in a teasing tone with a corner of your mouth still hidden in the plush pillow.

“Unfair,” he whines, his hand finally reaching your lower back, taking more precautions in where and how he rubs circles, “I was still half asleep, and you offered.”

“You were only half asleep because you ignored your alarm, and I had to kick your ass out of bed.”

“I was tired. Sue me. Also, I had a very comfortable pillow - or should I say pillows?” he references to your chest, leaning himself down to press a sloppy kiss to your cheek as you twist to finally face him fully.

You’re still smiling through the whine that hitches in your throat from the movement, jokingly wiping away his kiss as you shake your head, “Are you still in your work clothes?”

There it is. The scowl and the tilt of your nose he had been anticipating, clearly displeased in his filthy state even as your eyes spell out your adoration for him.

“You’re cute when you try to be angry with me,” he grins like a young boy, features lighting up with a youth only you could draw from him. He leaves no room for protest as he stands from the bed and claps his hands, “Alright, here’s how the night’s going to go - I’m going to go order your favorite takeout, and pour you a glass of your favorite wine. And then, you’re going to take a bath-” you open your mouth, a squeak of protest falling off your lips, but he simply holds up a finger and shakes his head, “Nope. Hot bath, wine, dinner. I know you probably haven’t eaten today, have you?”

Your silence is all the answer he needs.

His grin softens, and he fights back the urge to trail a ginger finger over your cheekbone, not wanting to risk getting any of the residual oil and dirty on his hands across your face, “I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” you finally call out, sitting up quickly and nearly doubling over, “At least take a shower first. I’ll order the food.”

“You will not order the food. I’ll do it and then shower, but you better not lift a damn finger while I do, baby. I’ll kick your ass, I mean it.”

“Not if I kick yours first.”

His chest blooms with love for you, the terribly stubborn beauty with a wicked sense of humor that has managed to keep him on his toes the last several years.

You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re his pain in the ass – he doesn’t care how cliche that is.

You both follow through on your promises; he showers, and you don’t lift a finger. By the time he’s running a scalding bath, getting it hot enough it would burn him but somehow comforts you, the food has arrived.

The night goes exactly as he had said it would. You sink in the bathtub and your skin is already flushing pink as he returns with a glass of wine for you in hand, the other holding a plate stacked high with your favorite food. He sits on the floor beside the tub as the two of you sit in silence at first, content with passing the plate back and forth before he tries to feed you your bites, which leads to snarky remarks and playful banter until he drops a piece of food into the bath. It has you screeching about how gross it is, but he can only cackle as he fishes it out, nearly knocking over your glass of wine, which leads to more scolding from you. You’re not mad, though, or even irritated in the slightest. He knows by the cracks in your voice and how hard you have to bite your lip to hold back your own laughter. He knows by the way you press a kiss to his forehead after he shakes his still-damp curls out in your direction, if for nothing else than to pester you.

And when the wine and food has been finished, when the bath has run cold and you’ve finally gotten each other up to date on the day’s latest gossip, he has a warm towel freshly fluffed in the dryer awaiting you. He insists on another back rub, this one more thorough as he lays you on the bed and carefully straddles you, peppering in kisses this time along with the working of his nimble hands. A trail of love notes written across your skin in his breath, in his murmurs of affection and his whispers of devotion.

You’re his favorite part of his day, even on the bad ones.

You’re a stubborn pain in the ass, but my God is he glad that you’re his stubborn pain in the ass.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #so soothing to write after all the angst lately thank u ash <3 #SUDDENLY SECOND GUESSING IF THIS IS ANY GOOD #IT'S TOO LATE NOW I GUESS I'LL JUST HIDE AWAY

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dewedup · 2 months

Note

28 with Phantom & Dew

I'm a mess already but I wouldn't mind it getting worse

here's a little something something (only a few months late and not the longest but still a feel trip)

Phantom could tell Dew was having a rough day from the moment he woke up; he just couldn’t seem to figure out when the problem started.

When he’d shuffled over to cuddle in the early light of day, Dew had rolled away.

If there’s one thing Phantom respects, it’s boundaries. So instead, he just placed a hand on Dew’s hip under the covers and kept his distance. But it seemed like even this tiny show of affection was getting under the fire ghoul’s skin. Dew huffed a frustrated sigh and got up to shower, he didn’t even bother to throw a cheeky wink at Phantom, finger crooked in a ‘come hither’ motion like usual.

Phantom didn’t let it get to him; he knows how turbulent Dew’s moods can be. He rolled with the punches and went about his own morning routine, making sure to give Dew a little extra space in their shared room.

The morning seemed to have set the tone for the rest of the day. Phantom tiptoed around Dew while the fire ghoul continued to ignore his presence. He knew the ghoul probably just needed some time, so he tried his best to stick to him like a shadow, quiet but close enough if Dew decided he needed him.

Well, maybe he stayed too close.

Phantom walked down the hallway back to the den, lost in thought while looking out the window and didn’t realize Dew had slowed his pace. He stumbled, his foot falling on the heel of Dew’s shoe, causing the fire ghoul to trip slightly. Dew caught himself on the wall and turned to Phantom, eyes burning with a fiery rage. Phantom’s cheeks flushed something fierce, an apology already spilling from his lips.

“Can’t you just leave me the fuck alone for five Satan-damned minutes?” Dew hissed, eyes narrowing at the younger ghoul. Phantom jumped back a few steps, raising his hands in defence at the angry tone. Tears pricked behind his eye lids as steam blew out of Dew’s nostrils.

“I’m sorry! It was an accident,” Phantom rushed out, biting his lip to keep the tears at bay.

“Seriously? You’ve been breathing down my neck all day. Do I have to spell it out for you?” Dew paused, as if waiting for a response, but Phantom had no idea what he was talking about. “I just need a break; you’re constantly there and sometimes I just want to do things without you. We don’t need to be attached at the hip every second of every day.”

Phantom was at a loss for words. Did he do something wrong? Why did Dew not talk to him about this before now? The confusion must have been written across his face because Dew just scoffed, his head shaking as he continued the walk back to the den alone, leaving Phantom to watch, wondering where it all went wrong.

“Oh Bug,” Phantom whirled around, wiping furiously at the tear that had started to fall down his cheek. Rain smiled sadly at him, walking forward to wrap his arms around the downtrodden ghoul.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming,” Phantom whimpered into Rain’s chest, shoulders shaking as he took deep breaths of the water ghoul’s scent in an attempt to ground himself.

“Hey, no none of that,” Rain tsked, pulling back slightly so he could hook a finger under Phantom’s chin. He waited for the younger ghoul to meet his eyes before he spoke next. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This is on Dew. He doesn’t get to treat you like that. Just because he’s having a shitty day, it doesn’t make it okay for him to take it out on you.”

Phantom nodded, willing Rain’s words to sink in and take root.

#gloom writes #but just barely #and i'm rusty #also i haven't been in the ghoul mentality for a hot minute #but we love angst in this house #fic promp #thanks for sending this ash #sorry it took me seven years to get around to it #angst #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dewtom #the band ghost ficlet

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ashtronomyys · 28 days

Text

Our Future Days

Cover Art by @tamdrry

A John "Soap" MacTavish / Simon "Ghost Riley TheLastofUsAu

// General Warnings for Graphic Depictions of Violence, Zombies, Apocalypse Setting, Nightmares, Side Character Death, Family Member Death, Grief, and Body Horror(There's a Happy Ending I swear lol)

With so little knowledge to go on, he could really be riding into anything, a pack of runners, clickers, refugees seeking shelter, or a band of marauders ready to kill all that stand in their way. A bit of wishful thinking tells him that it really could just be nothing, and that this surveying of the area is all for naught. The practical side of his brain screams at him that this is a bad idea, screams that the scars lining his body ought to serve as a reminder for him of the dangers lingering out there, waiting for him… Simon shudders. Whatever it is that he'll be rushing into, he'll need to remain vigilant, keep an eye on his surroundings and stay light on his feet. There’s no telling what sort of monsters he could be coming up against. ************ “Hmm... Got any fours?" Alex clicks his tongue, giving him a look of pity. "Afraid not my friend. Go fish.” “Ahh, come ON! Yer kidding me!? Agaain?!”

-Explicit

-Longfic, Slowburn, Angst w/ a happy ending, It gets real dark before it gets real better

(Very) Sporadic Updates coming to Tumblr, Twitter, and eventually Ao3!

OFD Masterlist:

Ao3 link here (To be added later)

Chapters - Section by Section

Chapter 1 - When Hurricanes and Cyclones Raged

Chapter 2 - TBA

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thinkingofausername · 7 months

Text

Imagine if fictional characters knew what we thought, felt and wanted for them. Imagine if they knew their stories hurt us and we wished they could've had gentler and kinder ones. The comfort they'd feel, knowing someone cares, and the pain they'd feel as well - knowing their stories can't be changed, however earnestly someone wants that.

Imagine them seeing the alternate, joyful, loving stories we give them. Imagine them grieving the life they can't have.

#writing #jason todd #whump #angst #whumpee #simon ghost riley #dick grayson #writing prompt #books #fanfic #regulus black #marauders #ash lynx #banana fish #writing ideas

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taifenggg · 1 year

Text

Fleeting Glimpses

Transported to the past, you ultimately have to come to terms with the fact that your first man isn’t the same as the one you remember.

CW: mainly angst with a bit of fluff

Characters: GN!Reader(no pronouns specified), Mammon

Authors Notes: nightbringer brainrot go brrrrr, so much angst potential!!

“Oi, you’ve been staring at me for the past 10 minutes...is there somethin’ on my face?”

You blink, not even realizing that you had been staring at Mammon for that long. “Sorry, sorry, I zoned out for a bit,” you quickly formulate an apology, turning away to hide how flustered you were.

There’s something almost chilling about the way his eyes are trained on your face. Eyes that are now devoid of the soft glances and affection he once held, or rather never did because you weren’t supposed to exist yet.

You take a step back shakily breathing as you have to remind yourself that this is not your Mammon. Your Mammon who would always be there for you, and would drop everything and come to you when called. Your Mammon who would offer a shoulder to you when you were upset, and would be there to let you cling to him whenever you were uncomfortable or were scared by something.

The Mammon standing before you is a product of the past, a fresh fallen angel. This is not your Mammon

You intake a sharp breath as you watch Mammon draw close to you, a hesitant hand brushing your cheek. “Why’re you crying? Did somethin’ happen?” he studies your face. You shake your head quickly using your sleeve to wipe your face.

When you found out that you had been transported to the past and started working as the brothers’ attendant, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t cry, at least not in front of them. But it was hard, seeing them go about their daily lives completely unaware of you. But you found that it was more bearable to stay by their sides than nothing at all.

“Just...thinking about things...” you mumbled, a bitter smile on your face, “Someone I used to know.” Mammon took a seat next to you, listening intently to your words. “He could be a bit of an idiot at times, but he had a big heart...and he really cared about those that he loved.” You sniffle a bit, feeling your heart clench more, “I just.....I really miss him.” You pull your legs up against your chest, pressing your chin against your knees. Mammon leaned back, wings fluttering slightly, “Well..I’m sure that wherever he is, he misses you as well.”

Against your better judgement, you leaned over wrapping your arms around his waist hugging him close. Mammon stiffened, arms held up in the air awkwardly before wrapping his arms around you. The warmth his body emanated and the feeling of him surrounding you felt the same, but also different at the same time. It gave you a sense of comfort but you could feel how tense Mammon felt against you. After a moment of composing yourself, you detangled yourself from him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hug you so out of the blue, but...you remind me a lot of him so I just thought....” you trailed off, sniffling quietly. “Nah, it’s alright, I didn’t mind it,” he mumbled, a faint flush decorating his face. You meet his gaze, resolve wavering before you tore yourself away, moving towards the door. “Sorry, I just remembered I had something to do, I’ll see you later Mammon!” you said in a cheery voice, waving to him before quickly opening the door and shutting it behind you.

You don’t know when you would be able to go back to the future, but you knew that for the time being it was too painful to be around him.

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#ash writes #obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #omswd #omswd x reader #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me angst

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mackjlee9 · 1 year

Text

This was requested two years ago, i'm such a bad writer i'm sorry :')

Ash Lynx x Male!Reader x Okumura Eiji [Angst&Fluff]

Warning; mentions of blood, stab wound, bullet wound, death, surgery and maybe needles (it's implied)

Masterlist.

Banana Fish

Requested on Wattpad.

(M/n) was calmly walking, taking a few sips of his still hot coffee and looking around the busy city. He was approaching the library Ash told him to meet up, he was just a block away and even though he knew he was early, Ash was probably already waiting for him.

He smiled at the thought of his best friend, the memory of Shorter flashing in his mind but he didn't let it ruin his calm state of mind, and continued walking, emptying his cup and throwing it away on the nearest trash can he saw.

With the library doors in his field of view, he crossed the street with quick steps, glancing side to side as he did so. He released a breath and walked toward the library's double doors, but before he could even reach his hand out to open it, a flash of blond hair rushed past him.

"Ash?!" He called for him, but Ash completely ignored the calls of his name. (M/n) didn't think twice before following after him, he has been following Ash everywhere since they met, and he wasn't gonna let the blond run off on his own, especially not when he knew how reckless he could be, "Ash!"

He kept trying to call him, but nothing, the blond wasn't even paying attention to his surroundings, running into bystanders that cursed at him for not even apologizing, and right behind him was (M/n), yelling 'sorry ma'am' and 'excuse me sir' as he ran past them as well. He tried to understand why Ash would run out like that, and he noticed the paper he was holding in his hand.

Must be Eiji's letter... (M/n) would've stopped running and let Ash go to Eiji, but something was off.

His eyes caught sight of a male leaning against the wall, his hood up and covering most of his face, but when he turned to look at Ash as he got closer, (M/n) recognized him. It was Lao.

Without realizing it, (M/n) sped up and reached his arms out to push Ash just out of the way of the knife coming at him.

Ash grunted as he fell to the ground after stumbling over his own two feet. He turned around to curse at who pushed him and keep running on his way to find Eiji, but he was left speechless when he saw (M/n) standing where he was just a second ago.

(M/n) had his clenched due to the pain that was slowly numbing, feeling his warm blood drip down and stain his clothes. He was in shock, his brain not fully processing what had happened.

The moment Lao realized he had just stabbed (M/n) instead of Ash, he backed away, pulling the knife with him. His furious eyes looked at Ash who was still on the ground, but he reacted quicker than Lao could.

With the loud booming sound of his revolver echoing in the now empty street, the sounds of people mumbling and whispering with each other changed to gasps and shrieks at the sound of a bullet being shot. Some good woman decided to call an ambulance while someone else called the police.

(M/n) rested on the wall next to him, where Lao had been standing waiting for his ambush, and now he was laying on the ground, bleeding but already dead. He took deep breaths while he pressed his hand on his gushing wound, his body trembling as his vision kept fading in and out.

Ash stood up, almost tripping again as he rushed toward (M/n), applying pressure on his wound over (M/n)'s hand, and he debated what to do now. If the police came, he could be arrested, and so could (M/n), but walking to the hospital would result in the same outcome, but at least, he could hide for a bit while the police investigated.

"Ash..." His thoughts were interrupted by (M/n)'s quiet voice, "We can't stay here, Ash..." The blond nodded and took a deep breath, his heart beating loudly in his ears at the thought of losing another close friend.

"I know, can... can you walk?" He asked, holding (M/n) against his side. The male only grunted and nodded, and like that, Ash took (M/n) to the nearest hospital, avoiding the cops like the plague as they made their way there.

//////

(M/n) had to be taken to surgery and Ash was sitting outside keeping his head down, thinking about what could happen, hoping that (M/n) would be okay, even after the doctors told him how unlikely it was for the male to live after all the blood he lost.

He took a shaky breath and reached for his phone, calling Eiji. He didn't want the Japanese male to hear any bad news once he arrived in his home country, so Ash decided to give him a quick call, just in case the worst-case scenario occurred.

Eiji was next in line to board the plane when he felt his phone vibrate in his hand, Ash was calling him. With a bright smile, he picked up the call, only for his smile to be wiped from his face, replaced by glossy eyes and frowned brows.

"Eiji-kun?" Ibe calls him, but Eiji's ears are ringing, and he felt his body move before his mind could process the information he just received, "Eiji!"

Eiji runs out of the airport, and calls a taxi, mumbling the name of the hospital while whispering to Ash that he's on his way. The whole ride there feels agonizingly slow for Eiji, it felt like hours when it was barely ten minutes, and he rushes out of the car, the driver yelling and complaining, only to receive a wad of cash from Ash, telling him to stop complaining and leave.

"Ash!" Eiji runs toward the blond and hugs him tight, that's when Ash finally lets the tears fall down his face. He feels safe with Eiji, and he can't help but lower his guard around the Japanese male, "How is he...?" His voice trembles as he asks, partially unsure if he wants to know the answer to his question.

"I- I don't know, I'm... I'm scared to ask, Eiji," he let his voice break, the knot in his throat making it hard for him to breathe properly, "What if he- if he doesn't make it? (M/n)- he's all I have, Eiji..." His hold tightened around Eiji, who now feels the need to reassure Ash.

He lifts his hand to his blond hair, and gently plays with it, shooting the pain in his chest for a little while, holding him in a safe hold, which manages to calm Ash down as he hides his tear-stained face in Eiji's neck.

"He's gonna be okay, (M/n) is strong, we know that... He's lived through worse, come on, let's go inside, it's cold out here, Ash." Nodding in silence, Ash held Eiji's hand as the Japanese male guided him inside the hospital, and they sat down on one of the empty chairs in the hallway, waiting for anyone who would tell them how (M/n) was and if he was gonna make it.

During their long wait, Ash fell asleep on Eiji's shoulder, marks of dry tears on his cheeks and Eiji leaned his cheek on Ash's blond hair, his phone vibrated and he looked at the ID. Ibe was calling him.

Well, I can't ignore him forever, he must be worried.

Eiji picked up the call and explained to Ibe where he was and why he was there. Apparently, Ibe had to pick up their luggage and found a hotel to stay in and just now he was able to contact him. Even if they had a place to stay the night, they were probably gonna stay in the hospital until they have any news about (M/n)'s state.

After receiving a warning from Ibe to be careful on their own, he hung up. Eiji put his phone in his pocket and looked down at Ash, who was moving around and a frown on his face.

"Ash?" He gently touched his face, and the blond woke up, frantically looking around before feeling Eiji still holding his hand. And he remembered where they were and what had happened.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed.

"It's been three hours, Eiji... I don't think he'll make it," Ash bit his bottom lip hard to prevent himself from whimpering and starting crying again, but right at that moment, the same doctor that took (M/n) to surgery stepped into the hallway, her eyes meeting Ash's who recognized her immediately, "How is he?"

Before she could say a word, Ash stood up from the chair, but couldn't get too close due to Eiji still holding his hand.

"He's stable, he should wake up in at least 15 minutes," she smiled at them, and Ash let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, "He's a tough guy, Ash," both of them frowned when she said the blond's name, but she walked past them, "He's in the second door to the right."

Eiji muttered a thank you and dragged Ash down the hall, turning right and stopping by the door for a few seconds, before slowly opening it.

They were greeted by an awake yet drowsy (M/n) who was playing with the IV on his arm, looking at it as if he was amazed. He lifted his gaze when he heard the door open followed by a gasp, and there he saw the two most important guys in his life. The only family he had.

"Hey, guys~," he lifted his hand as a greeting and he was instantly crushed by two pairs of arms, "Ow, guys, that hurts..." Removing the pressure on his torso, Eiji and Ash held (M/n)'s face gently and pressed a long kiss on his cheeks, making the male giggle and his face heat up at the sudden affection.

"You're not going out unless you're covered in bubble wrap, you hear me?" Ash had tears in his eyes, his jade-colored irises shining like gems, and Eiji's laugh sounding like angels in his ears. Damn, (M/n) was so in love with them, he could barely handle it.

"Alright, alright~, now calm down, I'm okay, you can rest." Eiji grabbed a chair and placed it next to his bed while Ash just made himself comfortable on (M/n)'s bed, nuzzling his neck and closing his eyes with a relieved sigh, "Shouldn't you be on a plane?"

Eiji hummed and shook his head, "I can stay in New York for a while longer, someone has to watch over you and Ash, y'know."

(M/n) laughed but soon groaned at the pain in his abdomen, "You're always right, Eiji."

++++

| Buy me a Ko-fi~? |

#banana fish #ash lynx #okumura eiji #one shot #anime #ash lynx x reader #okumura eiji x reader #male reader #reader insert #x reader #banana fish x reader #fluff #angst #.mackjlee9 writes

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enchantedlandcoffee · 2 months

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"Louis, please," Harry called through the door, his body slamming against it as it was pushed close. "Please, I need to explain."

"You don't have to explain anything, Harry," Louis called back, angrily wiping at the tears that had begun falling down his face. "I heard you loud and clear the first time around."

"But-"

"Just go, Harry! Please."

Louis could hear Harry slump against the door in defeat, his own traitorous feet moving him closer and closer.

"You know I love you, right?" He could hear Harry whisper, his heart breaking for the second time that day.

#ashngst #ficlet #louis tomlinson #harry styles #larry stylinson #ash writes angst #rom com fic #take a chance on me

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illegiblehandwriting1 · 9 months

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do you ever think about the fact that if Sky - y'know, Godslayer, Chosen Hero of Hylia, certified almighty badass - ever fought the Shadow, he would just be fighting himself so it would be the hardest battle he's ever fought and it would all come down to luck and attitude. yeah me too.

#NOT ch17 #so calm yourself #am literally just having a lot of Thoughts #i was thinking about ch16 again #and it would be harder than the demise fight cuz he beat demise. so. yeah.#that would suck #go check out Elastic Heart and To Isolate if you want some banger Sky v Dink btw #both on ao3 #first one's by Sky_the_Lofty-Nutcase #second one's by sky_squido (not secretlysheikah my bad)#but secretlysheikah DID write a sky angst fic called Hide and Seek #also very very good #you've probably heard of them #ANYWAY i'm just sorta thinking about that rn #smoke & ashes #lu sky #chicken scratch

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narumi-gens · 27 days

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From the Ashes | Part Two

Mei Mei x f!Reader

summary: Mei Mei arrives at your uncle's estate as a con woman. She leaves it as your savior.

warnings: 18+ minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, smut, angst with a happy ending, historical (1920s) au, gothic romance, total rip-off of park chan-wook's masterpiece the handmaiden, con woman!mei mei, sexually and emotionally repressed reader, mentioned physical and emotional abuse, reader has some faint scars, reader continues to seem like she's losing it at times, mentioned incest, mentioned torture, mentioned suicide, mentioned murder, reader has some form of suicidal ideation, fingering, oral (f receiving and giving, obvs), rimming, masturbation, squirting, outdoor sex, mild exhibitionism, sexual awakening

words: 6.3k

notes: mind the tags! things are getting darker here, but also hornier so it all evens out.

series masterlist

Your uncle informs Mei Mei that he’s been called away on business and will be gone for a week. From the expectant look in his eyes, she knows that her time is running out. She has seven days to convince you to run off with her before she needs to decide whether to cut her losses.

The morning he leaves, she plays the part of a besotted woman yearning for her partner’s return, wishing him well and for him to come home to her soon. But a few hours later, the pretense is done away with entirely as she corners you when you least expect it.

Her hand darts out into the hallway as you're passing by to grab your wrist and pull you into the empty sitting room where she’s been lying in wait. She’s just able to catch the startled look on your face as she shuts the door and presses you against it before her lips are on yours, cutting off any protest you might attempt to make.

There’s an instinctual impulse for you to fight her off, trying to shove at her shoulders and wriggle away from her, but it quickly fades away as you melt into her embrace and begin to cautiously kiss her back. It doesn’t take long until you’re eagerly accepting her advances with pitiful whimpers and soft moans that she greedily devours. Your gloved hands have stopped pushing her away and have dropped to cling tightly to the fabric of your dress.

For as shrewd as you are, there’s a clumsiness to the way your lips meet hers that betrays your inexperience and naivete and it only spurs Mei Mei on.

With one hand cupping your jaw, she slides her other down your body, making sure to caress every curve she comes across and relishing the sharp inhale you let out as she squeezes one of your tits over your clothes. When she reaches your thigh, she tugs on the long skirt of your dress and you quickly release the expensive material so that she can pull the hem high enough to slip her hand underneath it and between your legs.

Her skillful fingers are met with the finest silk money can buy only to find that it’s already soaked through from the little attention she’s shown you. You’re like a fully ripe peach that’s ready to be plucked from the branch and devoured.

As she plays with your pussy – stroking your slit over the drenched fabric of your underwear before pushing the material to the side to touch your heated folds directly, rolling your slippery clit, burying a single finger into your tight, tight cunt because that's all it can handle – she savors your moans, your blissed-out expression, and how your thighs are squeezing tight around her hand, not trying to stop her but trying to keep her there.

You’re seemingly unsure what to do with your hands otherwise and are too reserved to dare return her embrace, despite how she has a digit pumping in and out of your slick heat. Instead, your fingers scramble for purchase against the door at your sides through the haze of pleasure, the material of your gloves repeatedly slipping on the wood.

She’s unsurprised that it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming on her fingers with a sharp gasp and your head tossed back. With how inexperienced you are and how isolated you’ve been your whole life, she wonders if this is your first orgasm.

Wearing a dangerous smirk, Mei Mei finds herself thinking that she could easily grow addicted to giving them to you.

When she removes her hand from between your legs, you watch with lidded eyes and a heaving chest as she brings her dripping fingers to her plush lips and slowly licks each one clean. Just that small sample is delicious enough that she can’t wait to try you directly from the source.

She leans in to give you another slow, lingering kiss so that you can taste yourself on her tongue before she grabs onto your waist and gently slides you along the wall until you’re no longer blocking the door.

Her eyes twinkle when she releases you and sees how your legs tremble, knowing that it’s only the wall you’re leaning against that keeps you from collapsing in a heap at her feet. But she says nothing as she opens the door and leaves the room without sparing you another glance.

Dinner that evening is silent. You sit across from one another, neither of you saying a word as you eat. When you finish your meal, you stand up and bid her a polite goodnight – the only words you’ve spoken to her all evening.

Late that night, after she’s seen your handmaiden retire with the rest of the staff to the servant quarters near the Japanese wing of the estate where the guest quarters are located, she slinks under the cover of darkness through the Western side of the house and up its grand staircase to where she knows your bedroom sits.

The door is unlocked when she opens it to find you standing at the window and gazing out into the gardens. Based on your mussed hair and the rumpled sheets in your bed, you’ve spent the last few hours tossing and turning until you seemingly decided to give up on sleep altogether.

You don’t appear surprised to see her. As you watch her enter and close the door behind her, locking it for good measure, Mei Mei can feel how your gaze roves up and down her form, which is clad in only a beautiful silk robe that clings to every voluptuous curve. The only light in your room comes from the full moon hanging in the cloudless night sky, but it’s more than enough for her to see the longing in your eyes as she crosses the adjoining sitting area in your room to meet you at the window.

You’ve been hoping for this and it makes her smirk.

She slowly tugs the sash around your waist loose before pushing the soft material of your own robe from your shoulders to meet the belt at your feet, baring you fully to her. Bathed in the moonlight, your nipples hard under her stare, your teeth sinking nervously into your bottom lip, and your chest rising and falling rapidly with want, Mei Mei finds you more beautiful than the fortune that you’re sitting on.

She skims one lone fingertip across your collarbone and down to circle a pebbled nipple, avoiding touching the bud directly. There’s no need to rush after all. In the privacy of your bedroom, with the late hour and the household staff long asleep, there’s no need to rush.

She can take her time with you.

With a hand on your waist, your skin hot under her touch, she guides you to the bed, laying you out before her and then slipping her robe off to join yours on the floor, leaving her just as bare as you. She sees a flash of pink as your tongue darts out to briefly lick at your lips and from how entranced you seem by the generous curves of her tits, she doubts you’re even aware that you’ve done so.

She merely gives you an indulgent smile as she climbs onto the bed and kneels at your side. You instinctively raise a hand out to her before your senses seem to return to you and you quickly retract it, curling it into a fist and cradling it close to your chest. The motion is reminiscent of a child reaching out to grab what they want only to be harshly scolded.

But what catches her attention is how this is the first time she’s seen your hands completely bare. Without your gloves and with your hand in a fist, she’s able to see the faint lines scarred across the knuckles of your dominant hand.

They’re clearly years old by this point and only noticeable because Mei Mei notices everything. It’s obvious what they’re from though. Your hand bears the scars of a child who was repeatedly struck across the knuckles and she can only imagine how harsh each blow was to have left such a permanent reminder etched into your skin.

For as much as her curiosity has been piqued, she doesn’t linger on them. You hide them behind your gloves for a reason and she won’t make you doubt yourself when she already has you right where she wants you. But much like every other piece of information she learns about you, she tucks it away for later to be added to the puzzle.

Instead, she gently but firmly takes your curled first and brings it up to her chest, unfurling your fingers with her thumb and pressing your hand to her breast. You softly gasp as your palm makes contact with her smooth skin and she absently wonders when you last touched another person of your own free will, if ever.

Her hand guides yours to cup and squeeze her tit, encouraging you to take whatever it is you desire — especially when that thing is Mei Mei. Once she feels that you no longer need her wordless instruction, she leans down and finally presses her smiling lips to yours in a gentle, teasing kiss that you quickly return, eager for more.

Your tongue is warm and wet against hers as she guides you by example, enjoying the little whimpers that escape you. They only grow louder and more pitiful when she begins to move her mouth away from yours to capture a nipple between her lips, sucking and swirling her tongue around it before lavishing the other with the same treatment.

While Mei Mei’s hand still keeps one of yours to her breast, your other one has found its way into her long, silver strands, pressing her closer to your tits as your thighs rub together with need. When she starts to turn her attention away from your chest, you protest with a softly moaned, “Mei?”

Hearing her name on your pretty lips without an honorific attached to it sends a rush of wetness to her own cunt. She gently shushes you as she starts to leave a trail of kisses and licks down your torso, moving to lay between your legs. In a practiced movement, she tosses a thigh over each delicate shoulder and you gasp at the mere sensation of her breath against your dripping pussy.

She uses her thumbs to gently part your glistening folds and grins when she sees how needy you clearly are, your clit swollen and slick leaking from your twitching hole to make a mess of the sheets below your ass. She thinks she could continue to drink in the sight for hours, if not days. But she’s never been one to deny herself what she wants, so she doesn’t hesitate any longer before burying her face in your weeping cunt.

You writhe beneath her with every suck of your clit and flick of her tongue, moaning aloud into the darkness of your bedroom. She inserts one finger inside of you, meeting no resistance with how wet you are, and gives it a few pumps before coyly asking if you can take another. You nod without thinking. In this state, you would agree to anything — just as she planned.

A soft hiss escapes you from the sting as a second finger slides inside of you to join the first, unaccustomed to being stretched in such a manner. But whatever pain you’re feeling quickly morphs into pleasure as she massages your walls. It doesn’t take long before you’re meeting each thrust of her fingers.

When the pads of her fingers find a spongy spot inside of you, a hand darts down to the back of her head to keep her mouth right where it is. It’s a far cry from how you were too timid to touch her earlier in the sitting room. But just like that afternoon, you cum for her quickly, your head tossed back into your pillows, your back arched up from the mattress, your thighs clenched as close as they can be with her head between them, and your walls spasming around her fingers.

Her name leaves your lips like a hymn that consists of only one word sung over and over again to the gods, “Mei, Mei, Mei.”

It’s one that you sing all night as she makes you cum again and again and again with her pretty lips and talented tongue and deft fingers. And you receive everything she gives you without complaint or protest, hungry for every scrap of the pleasure that’s been so foreign to you up until 12 hours ago.

When she finally has to leave you in the early hours of the morning, you’re an exhausted mess. Your folds are swollen from overstimulation and every so often there’s a slight twitch in your muscles. She helps you dress in your discarded robe once more, guiding your limbs through the sleeves and tying the sash in a perfect bow before tucking you back into bed.

There’s an urge to crawl into the sheets beside you, but even an amateur con artist would know the danger of being caught in your bed by your handmaiden. So, she parts from you with a lingering kiss that wordlessly promises this is only the beginning.

With every step she takes back to her room, the wetness between her legs grows more and more uncomfortable. When she slides between the sheets of her own bed, she quickly slips her hand between her thighs and begins to play with her pussy until she cums on the same fingers that have spent the past few hours buried inside of you and with your taste still on her tongue.

Come morning, breakfast proceeds much in the same way that dinner did the night before – in silence and with a tepid acknowledgment of one another. But that afternoon after lunch, Mei Mei stops you before you can leave the dining room.

“Would you like to take me on a tour of the gardens?” she asks innocently and from the way you suddenly stiffen, she’s sure that the request alone is enough to make you wet if you weren’t already.

In the most secluded spot on the estate, hidden deep in the garden’s wooded area, there’s a small break in the trees that allows the sun to warm the patch of grass at the center. The house is a good twenty-minute walk from where you’ve secluded yourselves, which means there’s no need to worry that someone may stumble across you.

If they did, the scene would undoubtedly leave them shocked and scandalized. They would find an heiress on her knees, her cheek and chest pressed into the soft grass, bent over by the woman currently being wooed by her uncle.

Your skirt is pulled up around your waist to allow her full access from behind as she buries two fingers knuckle-deep inside of you and circles your slippery clit with her thumb. Her free hand is placed above your clothing on your lower back, pressing your spine into an arch that only enhances how deep she can reach with every thrust.

Your moans and cries of her name fill the clearing and if Mei Mei was feeling crueler, she would condescendingly tell you to hush. But for as cruel as she is, she doesn’t feel the need to be cruel with you. From the way your scarred knuckles shine under the bright sun as your bare fingers tug at the grass on either side of your head, your gloves discarded off to the side, she thinks you’ve already experienced more than your share.

She chooses instead to enjoy your lack of inhibitions, your sense of propriety tossed out the window. Whether it’s with her fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, or with her lips wrapped tight around your clit, or with her tongue slowly licking at the ring of muscle a little higher up, she revels in pulling orgasm after orgasm from you in the small clearing.

By the time the sun has started to sink deeper in the sky, you’re nothing but a heap on the grass as Mei Mei’s fingers and the lower half of her face are absolutely drenched with your slick. When you manage to roll onto your back, you give her an easy smile that looks so foreign on your face, but at the same time seems like the only thing that belongs there.

You press the back of your trembling hand to your sweaty forehead and softly laugh with a disbelieving shake of your head before beckoning her closer. She quickly complies, letting you wrap her in your arms and hold her close as she gives you a slow and languid kiss, liking the way your smiling lips feel against hers.

On the slow journey back to the large, looming house, you walk close to her, your shoulders touching and the backs of your fingers intimately brushing against hers. And even once you’re back inside the house’s cold and dark walls, there’s a lightness inside of you that she hasn’t seen before.

It carries you through another quiet dinner. It carries you as you bid her a polite but cool goodnight.

It carries you to straddle her lap where you ride her fingers while she worships your tits with her lips and tongue when she comes to visit you just as she had the night before.

And it carries you to you sit on her face, one knee on each side of her head as you let her hands on your ass guide you into grinding down on her mouth until you’re falling apart on her tongue for the umpteenth time in two days.

The next afternoon finds you both having tea in the same sitting room where she first cornered you, this time seated next to one another on the couch by the room’s large window that looks out into the gardens. And once again, her fingers are buried in your cunt as she watches on with hungry eyes.

Your hand is slapped over your mouth to keep you from crying out and catching the attention of any one of the servants who may be passing by in the hallway. The only sounds in the room are your panting and the slick sound of her fingers as they slide in and out of your needy pussy.

When she feels your walls beginning to spasm, she uses her free hand to guide your face into her neck so that you can softly moan her name against her skin as you fall apart.

There’s a vulnerability to the way you stay there after you cum, cuddled close even once she’s removed her fingers from you and your breathing has returned to normal. And something about it has her starting to consider you as part of the fortune she intends to steal.

That night when she visits you, it’s your turn to take her by surprise. Because when she crawls into your bed, you guide her with nervous hands into a position she never would have expected from you. Her face is buried in your cunt just like it has been for the last two nights, but your face is now also buried in hers as you both lay on your sides, giving and receiving at the same time.

Your inexperience shines through once again, but Mei Mei savors it, knowing that she’s your first in so many different ways. Even as she focuses on bringing you to your own peak, prioritizing your pleasure first, she lets you take your time exploring her pussy, suckling at her clit timidly in between lapping at her folds, even daring to go so far as to dip your tongue inside of her.

In the early hours of the morning, after she’s made you cum again and again, and after she’s given you your first in what she hopes will be many lessons in how to pleasure another woman, you both lay exhausted and sated as you face one another. You tiredly play with the ends of her long hair, a soft smile on your lips the entire time.

She can see a new sense of contentment in your eyes and she’s sure that she’s won you over.

“Run away with me and every night can be like this,” she murmurs, taking the hand toying with her strands and pressing a gentle, wet kiss to the tip of each finger. “I’ll look after you.”

The words are unexpectedly sincere, but as soon as they leave her lips, the wall that you’ve lowered over the past few days is suddenly back up at full height. Your gaze and expression are cold once more and you yank your hand from hers.

Without sparing her a second glance, you sit up and turn your back to her as you get out of bed, picking up your robe from the floor and sliding it back on, tying its belt with practiced movements. You then take the pair of gloves on your bedside table and walk to the window.

“You should leave. It’s inappropriate for you to be here,” you say and at that, Mei Mei can’t help but toss her head back and laugh wickedly.

“I think we crossed the line of what’s appropriate and what isn’t when you first came all over my fingers,” she counters with a smirk that goes unseen with your back to her.

As you continue to silently stare out into the gardens, it’s clear to Mei Mei that teasing won’t get her anywhere. She gets out of bed and puts her own robe back on.

“Your uncle returns in four days and I’ll need to disappear not long after,” she tells you as she ties her robe closed and moves toward you. Her tone is matter-of-fact as she tries to make you see reason. “What will you do then? You have no means to access your fortune without a marriage, which you say you’ll never have, meaning your greedy uncle will continue to siphon off as much as he can as your guardian.”

She comes to a stop next to you by the window, joining you in looking out through the glass and it isn’t the first time she’s taken note of how your room directly overlooks the sakura tree where your aunt’s body was found hanging — where you found your aunt’s body hanging. She can only imagine what growing up with a constant reminder of such a morbid discovery outside of your window every day of your life has done to you.

“Will you spend the rest of your days as a caged bird in this estate with only an old man and the rats in his pocket for company?” she asks and you finally meet her gaze through the reflection in the window.

“I have a plan,” you answer in an emotionless tone that she had almost forgotten over the last few days.

When she gives you an expectant look, wanting more information on this supposed plan, you offer nothing else. You simply turn away from her and walk back to your bed, where you grab the long, tasseled cord hanging from the ceiling that will summon your handmaiden from the servant’s quarters and begin to tug on it impatiently.

Mei Mei knows that it’s also her cue to disappear. The threat of being caught by a third party is the only thing that could get her out of your room at this point.

“This is the only plan that can set you free,” she reminds you just before she takes her leave. “Unless you plan to die here, having no one else on this earth. But what a shame that would be when you have someone offering you their hand.”

Later that morning as she makes her way to breakfast, she sees your handmaiden scurrying through the corridor and trying to stay out of her way. She doesn’t miss the red, finger-shaped marks on the woman’s wrist, which will bloom into deep bruises over the next days, or the fresh cut on her cheek.

Mei Mei would pity her for finding herself the outlet of your ire if she didn’t already know that the handmaiden reports back on your every move to your uncle, even going so far as to search through your belongings when she thinks that she’s alone and blind to the con woman’s ever watchful eye.

When Mei Mei suggests a walk through the gardens after lunch, you brush her off without a word. When she tries to visit your room that night, she finds the door locked.

The following day, the fifth day, she contemplates her next step as she drinks her tea alone. As she looks out the window at the pouring rain, she readies to resign herself to the fact that she may just have to consider this job a loss. A con artist needs to know when not to press their luck and she knows that without you on her side there’s not much that can be done.

You just don’t seem to trust her or her intentions, seeing her seduction of you as nothing more than an attempt to manipulate you to get at your money. And while she concedes that manipulation is her forté, her aims have grown beyond making off with your fortune, to also needing to make off with you. However, she’s at a loss for how to make you believe that she doesn’t plan to betray you.

She’s pulled from her thoughts when the door to the sitting room opens and she looks up to see you standing there silently in the doorway. You both look at one another and when Mei Mei sees the conflict raging in your eyes, she forgets all about calling off the job.

“Would you like to go for a walk?” you softly ask and Mei Mei raises a delicate eyebrow before glancing out the window at the sheets of rain that are coming down, leaving huge puddles on the grounds. But when she looks back at you and sees the unfamiliar tinge of desperation that’s crept into your expression, she easily agrees.

Despite being waterproofed, the bamboo and paper umbrella you sneak out does little to protect either of you from the strong winds that have the heavy rain falling at a slant and you’re soon both drenched from head to toe.

But you keep going, your arm tightly wrapped around hers to tug her alongside you deeper into the gardens. She knows the path that you’re walking, it’s the one that leads to the small clearing in the trees. As you trudge through the muddy path, leading her further and further, she finds herself surprised by your determination in the face of the elements.

Finally, once you’ve reached the clearing and seem to feel that you’ve put enough distance between yourselves and the house, you come to a stop and face her. Your shoulders are rising and falling rapidly from a mixture of exertion and what seems to be fear if the look in your eyes is anything to go by.

She doesn’t know what it is that could have you so terrified and it puts her on guard

The torrential rain is deafening and Mei Mei knows that you brought her here now because even if anyone was willing to brave the storm to follow you, they would never be able to hear you.

“Can I trust you?” you ask. It’s the first thing you’ve said since you both left the house and you have to raise your voice to be heard. The question is so blunt that it gives Mei Mei pause. “You make your living lying and cheating. You came here with a plot that ended in my disappearance and you in sole possession of my inheritance. Can I trust you?”

If anyone else were asking her that question, the answer would be a resounding no. If you were asking that question on the first day of her stay, it also would have been a no.

But as she’s used her fingers and her mouth to soften your hardened exterior and bring out an entirely different woman than the one she first met, her idea of what a successful job looks like has changed. It’s no longer about stealing only your money – she also needs to steal you.

Her answer comes in the form of a kiss so heated that it causes you to drop your useless umbrella into the puddle at your feet. She cradles your face in her hands as her lips move against yours hungrily, the rain pouring down on you both and washing away whatever remaining doubts you had.

When you break apart for air, she rests her forehead against yours and is taken aback when she sees how your eyes are brimming with tears, a few escaping to mix with the rain that’s drenching you.

“I have no one on this earth,” you plead helplessly, echoing her words from the other night, and she gives you a fierce look in return.

“You have me,” she swears, meaning every word with her black and crooked heart.

And then, with her hands still cupping your cheeks, her touch giving you the courage you need, the truth begins to spill from your lips.

You tell her about your sadistic uncle, about the terror he unleashed as you were growing up, about his house of horrors. You tug the glove from your dominant hand and present it to her to show how his cruelty has been scarred across your knuckles in neat lines.

Mei Mei takes your hand in hers and presses a gentle kiss to each knuckle. Unbeknownst to her, each touch of her lips feels like the tender care such wounds should have received all those years ago but that your uncle refused to allow.

As your fingers curl tightly in her hold, you tell her about how his cruelty has also left scars of a different kind on you all your life, about your aunt who tried to run away when you were young and she could no longer endure his torment, only to be caught, tortured, and killed. You tell her about the house’s dark basement where you were forced to watch as it all happened.

You tell her about how her body was hung from the sakura tree under the guise of a suicide and that you’ve been promised the same fate should you follow in her footsteps.

You confess how scared of him you are. You confess how disgusted by him you are. You confess that you think he’ll haunt you wherever you go, that even if you escaped with Mei Mei to the other side of the world, you would have to live your life looking over your shoulder for him, lest you find yourself in his basement once more.

Through your sobs, you reveal that he hopes to marry you so that he can keep you and your fortune under his thumb forever. Mei Mei’s sudden arrival is just another opportunity for him to grow his wealth before she becomes another loose end that needs to be cut.

With every truth revealed, the white-hot rage in Mei Mei grows until she’s ready to return to the house and destroy every brick and wooden board with her bare hands until not even the foundations are left. She wants to raze the house and the entire estate to the ground.

She wants to inflict the same suffering on your uncle that he’s inflicted on you. She wants to inflict more suffering on him than he’s inflicted on you.

But more than that, she wants to steal you away from the prison where you’ve spent your entire life. She wants to melt the ice trapping you and bring you out into the sunlight where you belong, far away from this house and the man inside of it that have both loomed so largely over you for your entire life like a dark cloud.

She wraps her arms around you and pulls you close. You eagerly return her embrace, burying your face into her neck and holding onto her tightly like she’s the lifeline that fate tossed you to pull you free from the inky depths of your misery and your uncle’s depravity.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, her voice barely loud enough in your ear to be heard over the clap of thunder that rings out from the sky.

There’s a long moment where you don’t do anything but hold her tighter. And then, very slowly, you nod.

“Please save me, Mei,” you softly beg through your tears, and as the rain falls in curtains on the two of you, Mei Mei swears to you that she will.

That night, Mei Mei worships you. She’s never been rough with you, even in the most heated of moments, but now she’s as soft as a woman like her knows how to be. She takes her time with every kiss, every stroke, every lick and suck. She makes sure to lavish every inch of your skin with attention, as if she’s trying to make up for the affection that’s been absent all through your life.

You beg her for more, for her to move faster, but she won’t have it. When she looks up at you from between your legs with adoring eyes, she maintains the same, languid pace, her free hand holding your scarred one in hers against your hip, your fingers intertwined tightly together.

And as you finally cum, the sound of her name leaving your lips in ecstasy and the feeling of your thighs clenched on either side of her head, the sudden gush of wetness that drips down her chin and soaks through the sheets to the mattress below is just an added bonus.

Your form trembles beneath her as she leaves a trail of wet kisses up your body until she can meet your lips. You wipe your thumb over her chin, which is shiny and drenched with your arousal, but she simply catches it between her lips and sucks the taste of you clean, not wanting a drop to go to waste.

A soft giggle escapes you at the way she teases you and you press your smiling lips to hers, the fingers not tangled with hers running through her long, silky locks.

Once you’ve both had your fill — not that Mei Mei truly thinks such a notion is possible where you’re concerned — you lay wrapped in each other’s arms, your sweaty curves pressed right up against hers, neither of you willing allow any space between.

Mei Mei dreads looking at the clock, wanting nothing more than to let you fall asleep in her arms where she can keep watch over you and protect you from whatever monsters lie in wait, but knowing that doing so will have to wait until she’s freed you from your cage.

“I want to show you something,” you murmur with a timid look in your eyes. You then sit up on your knees and reach over to your bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling a black-bound book from within.

She joins you in sitting up, her posture much more relaxed as she leans back against the headboard. You take a moment to look at the book’s blank cover before offering it up to her with two hands and your head bowed, and she raises a curious eyebrow when she recognizes it as your sketchbook.

When she takes it from you, she beckons you to join her at her side, but you shake your head and remain kneeling before her. Even fully nude and on a bed of rumpled and dirtied sheets, you manage to look like the lady you were raised to be as you sit in a perfect seiza, your palms on your thighs and your head tilted down.

She frowns at the apprehenshion she can see in your pin-straight posture. Whatever it is you’ve spent your days sketching is a secret that you’re afraid to reveal. When she opens the cover, she realizes why.

On the first page is a detailed sketch of a body hanging from a tree, the same sakura tree outside your window. She turns the page to find a similar drawing, only this one is much more focused on the expression of the woman hanging from the tree.

She flips to the next page and it’s the same again with only a few minor differences. As she continues to make her way through the sketchbook, the body in the drawings begins to change, morphing from a woman she doesn’t recognize — your aunt — to one that she does, intimately.

You.

“Was this your plan?” she asks quietly, her voice thin as she flips to another page where more of the same waits for her. The idea of you seeing no other way out from under your uncle’s thumb and succumbing to your despair stokes the raging fire she feels for the man.

When you don’t answer, she lifts her gaze to look at you. Your hands have clenched into anxious fists on your thighs and your shoulders are hunched up to your ears self-consciously. You take a shaky breath and nod before daring to look up at her.

The rawness in your expression reaches down to her core. Your eyes are wet and shining under the warm lamplight, but in them, she can also see a hint of hopefulness, a feeling she’s sure that you’ve never experienced before.

“Until a better one came along,” you whisper with a soft smile as a tear escapes your lashline and rolls down your cheek.

When Mei Mei looks back at the sketchbook, she finds that the rest of its pages are filled with portrait after portrait of herself.

#new banner for each part!#tbh I wanted to include a scissoring scene like in the handmaiden but didn’t feel like writing another 500 words #so just imagine that they did #tw physical abuse #tw emotional abuse #tw suicide #tw incest #mei mei x reader #mei mei smut #mei mei angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #from the ashes #mel writes

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akystaracer22 · 2 months

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Here in the Garden, Let’s Play a Game

Synopsis: A nightmare about paradise, and an attempt to create something new, even the coldest hearts can warm with a careful touch.

Notes

Can you tell I like Adam’s character?

TW: Mild Mind Control, Thought Suppression, and Altered Thoughts in the flashback scene, descriptions of panic attacks, vomit, mild descriptions of gore, unreliable narrator.

As for the latter half: This is what Lucifer meant in Distrust Fall when he said he thought he knew where to start.

Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 3304

Fic under cut!

Adam blinked and pulled his hand away from where it rested against the hide of a boar, where the fuck was he?

Last thing he remembered he was exhausted after another shitty fucking day in hell and went back to his room to sleep, and suddenly he’s in some sort of glade.

Huffing, he gently patted the boar’s side and nudged it up, “C’mon, up you get, I gotta figure this shit out.”

The boar acquiesced easily, trotting away into the foliage as Adam took a look around the scenery to try and figure out where he was.

Long lush green grass that flowed in the breeze in such a way it looked pristine, long natural flower beds carving up the glade in perfect patterns. The trees were a mix of evergreens and impossibilities. Trees he’d never seen together before all coexisting in magnificent harmony.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think he was…

Adam face blanched at the sudden wind that hit his body, his bare body.

Where were his clothes?

“No no no nononono!” Adam gasped and glanced around in a panic; he wasn’t wearing anything. That wasn’t good- shit he needed his clothes!

He flared his wings out to try and use them to give himself some coverage only to be painfully aware of another fact when nothing happened.

He couldn’t feel them.

He couldn’t feel his wings.

Adam twisted around and stared at his bare back in terror, he was missing his wings, wings he’d had for millennia at that point, wings he’d kept even as he plummeted to hell, ruined as they were they were still his they couldn’t just be gone-!

A loud whimper slipped off his tongue before he could bite it back. He cursed, hating the show of weakness only marginally less than he hated being so exposed.

Adam moved forward on unsteady legs, nearly tripping from the sudden lack of weight on his back from his wings. Already he hated the place, it’s perfection reminded him too closely to the garden, just as much as his exposure and lack of wing’s and-

Chink

Adam’s blood turned to ice in his veins at the sound. Glancing down at his right wrist, he found the source.

A small, innocuous golden cuff attached to a similarly gold chain, glowing softly from where it laid against his skin. The chain lead upwards, disappearing into nothingness.

The first man’s breathing quickened as he stumbled forward, instinctively trying to run in the opposite direction of the chain. Shit he was right why the fuck did he have to be right?!

He was in Eden; he was in fucking Eden.

“Adam!”

The first man turned around swiftly at the sound of his wife’s voice, smiling brightly as the angel he was reporting to took their leave, “Eve! My dear you look beautiful as always.”

His wife stopped in front of him, and Adam’s brow twitched, she looked…

Free.

Troubled. Her eyebrows were pressed together, and her shoulders were tense. Her hair looked unusually messy, and her eyes kept darting around as if looking for something.

She doesn’t want Them to see this.

“My dearest, what troubles you?” Adam reached out a hand to her before pulling back abruptly as he noticed something else, Her eyes had darkened to a deep, almost black red. Her chain connecting her to the Lord was absent, “Beloved, where is your shackle?”

“Adam we need to talk,” Is all Eve said instead, moving forward to grab him by the arm and drag him into the foliage surrounding the clearing.

“My dear we must inform our Creator immediately,” Gods first human exclaimed, his chest growing tight the longer he was aware of his partner’s bare wrist, “We are never to be without the shackles that keep us safe this is-”

“Just! Listen to me first,” Eve’s tone shifted abruptly silencing Adam, “I- I know how this looks but I need you to trust me for a second, please.”

“Of course, I trust you dear, but-”

Adam didn’t get to finish as Eve caught his mouth with her own. Kissing him deeply much to the man’s surprise. He didn’t have time to react when something passed between Eve’s mouth and his own and he instinctively swallowed whatever it was.

He heard the shackle shatter a second before his mind caught up to it, sending him reeling at the slew of information that struck him all at once.

Memories that he was forced to forget surged into his awareness-

- A passionate kiss with Lilith under the sun-

- A shared meal with an angel- with Lucifer-

- Him, screaming in agony as God cleaved open his chest and reached inside of him-

-A failed attempt to flee while he was still recovering, still reeling from the betrayal and terror as burning bright magic lashed out and dragged him back-

Adam stumbled back away from his second wife – his second wife how in Eden did he ever forget about Lilith – as the reality of the situation finally caught up to him.

They needed to hide. Now.

“Shit I need to get the fucking apple!” Adam yelled, breaking into a sprint even as he stumbled and had to catch himself on the trees as he ran. Animals didn’t even startle as he ran past because fear was an emotion you weren’t supposed to feel, not in Eden.

How the ever-loving fuck Adam was even able to process this was beyond him, but he wasn’t about to try his luck. All it would take is one moment of Gods attention and he’d be unmade and-

Adam bit the inside of his cheek to nip that train of thought in the bud. He wasn’t going to unpack that right now.

He needed to get to the damn tree.

The first man stumbled into a large clearing, immediately hating the exposure before catching golden leaves in the near distance, turning his head he was greeted with his salvation.

A tree with apples pure and divine. It’s trunk a darker colour than normal and it’s leaves a mix of brilliant gold and blinding white.

Adam raced across the clearing; all sense of caution thrown to the wind because he needed to get to those apples-!

A heavy weight slammed into him, knocking him to the ground before something pierced his leg.

Adam cried out in pain before he could stop himself, craning his neck to try and get a look at his assailant only to go wide eyed at the angel pinning him down.

Or, more precisely, the exorcist. Lute.

She was giving him the same hard glare she only really used for sinners or for Vaggie, the one that screamed hatred with every fibre of her being. The thing in his leg was her spear.

“I don’t know how you scum managed to sneak into the garden,” She snapped at him, vitriol poisoning her tongue, “But you’re not getting to that tree.”

“Shit- Lute it’s me!” Adam yelled, trying not to move his injured leg around the spear even as crimson blood – why the fuck was it crimson?! – soaked the ground, “It’s me Adam!”

Lute studied him and for a moment seemed to hesitate, sparking a glimmer of hope in Adam before it was snuffed out with her scowl returning, “No. You’re not. But you need to be fixed.”

Her halo glowed for a gut-wrenching second, before light seemed to travel down the divine chain towards the shackle.

“No nonono shit stop fuck!” Adam shrieked, abandoning sense and uncaring at how his flesh and muscle tore as he tried to shove Lute off, her spear mutilating his leg further, “Lute don’t let Him fucking do this please!”

The light got closer and still Lute did nothing, Adam could only watch the light seep into the cuff and see it glow lightly before-

Adam screamed as he jerked awake, immediately feeling something in his stomach shift and bile surge up his throat.

He stumbled until he hit a door and threw it open, whatever was in his stomach coming back up as he vomited over the railing of his balcony.

He could feel a weight on his back, and he almost cried as he realised it was his wings, instinctively curling them around himself as he sat there against the rails. He shuddered for a moment, shivering despite the heat.

His leg ached despite the fact that it was a nightmare.

It was a nightmare.

Fuck he thought he was about to-

A hiccupping sob slipped out of him, followed by another as he fell apart.

He thought he was going to die in the worst way imaginable. Worse than when the maid stabbed him, or when he fell or even when he died all those millennia ago he thought he was going to be erased.

Shit he thought he was going to be erased and one of his girls was going to watch it happen.

He would rather fall a thousand times over or be stabbed by a thousand angelic weapons then be erased again.

The fallen angel kept sobbing for a few more seconds before forcing his emotions back down again, he wasn’t about to be caught weak like that. Not here. Once before at the fucking graveyard was enough. He was Adam he was gods first man he was- he was the fucking Adam! He needed to get his fucking shit together because someone noticed. Before someone thought to look deeper and see how much of a rotten shit show he was inside.

He didn’t need anyone to see him this pathetic. Not again, not after last time.

“Adam?”

The first man’s eyes widened, and his head snapped over to the balcony next to his. Shit!

“Luci-fer ah hah why the fuck are you awake?!” Adam scrambled to his feet, wings flaring out to balance him even as he gripped the rail.

The king of hell was wearing what was probably casual wear for him, just a dress shirt, his usual pants and shoes combo, and a vest. His brow was furrowed as he took in Adams sorry state.

“I was working on something- are you okay?” Lucifer spread his wings, crossing the gap between their balconies with an ease that made Adam jealous. Lucifer had fallen just like he did and yet he was the one who still kept his wings, who didn’t have to deal with dead weight and could still fucking fly.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

“Go fuck yourself Lucifer, I’m not in the damn mood,” Adam muttered, stalking back inside and going to shut the door on the devil.

“No, no you’re not running from this not after-”

“After fucking nothing,” The first man growled, turning back to scowl at the king of hell who’d put a foot in the doorway to keep Adam from closing it.

“Adam,” Lucifer sounded tired, which pissed Adam off even more, “I’m not letting this one go. Not after what I just saw. You’re talking about this.”

“I’m sorry, why the fuck do you even care?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, why the fuck do you even care?” Adam snarled, mantling his wings on instinct, “First you fucking clean my wings for me, you keep on watching my back for some fucking reason. Then, you go out of your way to catch me when I fall, why? What the fuck is your angle here why the fuck do you care?”

“Can’t I care?”

“You didn’t care in Eden when you abandoned me,” Adam snapped before freezing.

“Oh,” Lucifer blinked a few times before folding his wings and making them disappear, “So that’s it, isn’t it. You had a nightmare about Eden.”

“Why the fuck would I have a nightmare about paradise?” Adam sneered past the twisting feeling in his gut, “Eden was perfect, the only thing I’d have a nightmare about would be the desolate land I was kicked out into.”

“Except Eden wasn’t perfect,” Lucifer pressed, eyes narrowing at the bluff, “It sure didn’t seem perfect when He-”

“Don’t!”

“…”

They both stood there, the silence staining the air with Adams stupid, foolish, weakness.

“Come on get dressed, we’re going out,” Lucifer huffed, his wings returning to block the balcony like that was an actual escape route.

… shit he was planning on doing that.

“Fine, piece of shit good for nothing-!” Adam grumbled as he threw open the closet and grabbed his shirt, throwing off his night garb with his mind only quietly screaming at him to put something on because he wasn’t wearing anything. It shouldn’t matter anyway; Lucifer had already seen him plenty of times in the past naked.

Still, he couldn’t have gotten his pants on fast enough.

He shrugged on his coat and put on his shoes before Lucifer abruptly grabbed him and dragged him close.

Before Adam even had a chance to curse at him or break out of the grip a shower of bright gold sparks crackled through the air and a warm wind hit his face. He jerked, stumbling out of the kings hold and striking out with a wing even though he knew Lucifer would dodge.

“Would you not?!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Lucifer grinned, clearly anything but sorry, “But it was the quickest way to get here!”

“And where exactly is here? Because this just seems like a whole lot of nothing.”

Nothing but rock stretched out in all directions, they looked to be at the bottom of a cliff and if Adam looked up… was that the hotel?

“Are we seriously in the fucking nowhere around the hotel?!”

“Here me out first!” Lucifer spread his wings instinctively, “Just- I have a pitch for you!”

“Get on with it,” Adam bit out, he highly doubted anything Lucifer could say right now would even be remotely-

“A garden.”

The first mans thoughts cut off, before his brain kicked back in and he just stared at lucifer, “…what?”

“A garden,” Lucifer smiled widely, showing teeth without a threat, “You can use this space to grow a garden.”

“Why the fuck would I grow a garden.”

“You loved it in Eden didn’t you?” Lucifer’s smile shrunk a little into something pitying, It made Adam’s gut churn, “I remember how you used to spend hours talking about just caring for the garden. You were chattering on about concepts your mind couldn’t even comprehend yet as you tended the garden.”

“The soil is inhospitable, nothing will grow.”

“They said that about the land outside of Eden as well, and yet look what you managed.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to have the amount of time required to even begin managing the soil let alone the plant life.”

“I’m sure Charlie can be convinced to give you all the time you need in the day!”

“I can’t get down here.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers at the nearest cliff face, leaving Adam to watch as a set of stairs manifested, coiling through the rock and leading up towards the back of the hotel where his girls were laid to rest.

“I’m not exactly in shape asshole.”

“Well, you’ll be getting in shape as you work on this so that shouldn’t be an issue soon.”

“I-”

“You know you can just say you don’t want to do it right?” Lucifer shut the first man up easily with a look, “This isn’t a mandatory thing, you can just say no and go on your merry way.”

Adam knew that. He didn’t owe Lucifer shit and he didn’t have to do this. He could just walk; the stairs were literally right there now. He could just leave.

His feet stayed rooted to the ground where he stood.

“Well?”

Fuck.

“Just give me a fucking hoe already,” Adam sighed, holding out his hand and glaring at Lucifer.

The devil in question looked absolutely delighted, grinning widely and summoning-

“The tool, don’t give me a fucking mirror. You’re not funny.”

“Sorry! Sorry, I couldn’t resist the joke,” In a flash the small handheld mirror was replaced with a steel hoe the first man hefted in both hands. He tested its weight before nodding, it’d do.

“I need grass, pomegranate, apricot, strawberry, pear, some flowers- preferably the kinds that won’t fuck up the dirt any more than it already is. And fuck it- you can throw in some hell species as well let’s see how those fuckers play ball. I’ll need a broad fork to start breaking up the soil too.”

Adam had no fucking idea how he was going to make sure the seeds got enough sunlight to grow but fuck he didn’t have many other hobbies aside from trying it.

He stabbed the hoe into the ground and grabbed the broad fork from the air as it formed, mapping out in his mind what land he’s going to have to prep now and where he can just leave it to later. Maybe he can use the shade of some of the outcroppings to his advantage and Lucifer could create water sources, maybe even an underground river to connect them so there is some proper hydration without risk of contamination…

“You know, those seeds are going to take a long time normally to grow,” Adam looked at the other fallen angel as he talked, “Not to mention how long fixing the land will take, you could be doing this for decades.”

“Are you trying to discourage me from this after I just decided to do it?”

“Not at all! I just… have a suggestion.”

“Go on.”

“I can play with the time down here, make the land grow faster and nurture itself quicker. You won’t age unnaturally despite being dead and return to dust of course!” Luci laughed nervously, “But I’ve worked with the spell for long enough so I’m sure it’s safe.”

“… How sure.”

“I’ve tested it with myself.”

“Luci what the fuck.”

“We both know you would refuse immediately If I didn’t do it,” Luci laughed, crouching down, and placing a hand against the barren earth, “You’d rather die than have anything hurt your plants.”

“They’re living creations in their own right,” Adam snorted, “I’m just keeping them safe.”

“And yet at the end of the day you still eat them same as animals.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t eat anything that also wouldn’t eat me at the end of the day.”

“Pigs.”

“They’ve killed and eaten almost five hundred humans in the past two hundred years.”

“Chicken.”

“Have you met them?”

“Plants?”

“They devour any form of meat buried in the soil near them. Look it up, people have buried pieces of meat near plants needing protein and they devour them.”

“Oh, what the fuck.”

“I used to do it too back on earth, buried any meaty remains in the earth to help foster life once I figured that out.”

“Okay!” Luci’s hands glowed brightly, forcing his own magic into the ground in what Adam could only guess was his attempt at changing the topic.

Adam couldn’t see the change as much as he could feel it. The earth under his feet shifting ever so slightly in accommodation to the fallen angels magic.

Lucifer stood up as the glow faded away, dusting himself off, “Well, as fun as this talk was, I’m headed back up to the hotel. Char Char’s gonna be awake soon and I’m hungry.”

The first man snorted at his old friends bluntness, waving the angel of the morning star off as he disappeared into a shower of magic.

Adam turned back towards the barren wasteland, shaking out his wings and stabbing the broad fork into the ground. If he was going to make the best fucking garden hell had ever seen, he had a lot of work ahead of him.

Notes at the end:

In Eden, the only thing adorning both Adam and Eve was these little golden chains that God used to keep them from acting up like Lilith did, when Eve was created the chains appeared on both of their wrists. When Eve bit the apple, it broke her chains. Then, Eve sought out Adam and got him to eat the fruit and well you know the rest. God doesn’t pay attention to Eve because she was made from Adam so she should be perfectly subservient to Adam’s whims (misogyny amirite?) and thus Eve could sneak away and bite the apple.

Saw this from another fic but Adam was awake when the rib was torn from him because I live for that. The cuff stops him from remembering it.

The chains essentially prohibit the bad thoughts™ so as to keep Adam and Eve from straying like Lilith did. Basically, God is actively prohibiting them from having any true free will.

Lucifer explicitly told Eve to get the apple to Adam because he was mildly crushed by the thought of his old friend having gotten his will stripped from him because Lilith didn’t want to be with him anymore. He’s also hurt by the fact that God felt it fit to strip Adam of any notion of friendship, breaking the bond Lucifer so carefully forged with the first man. Lucifer despises that his friend went from treating him like an equal to treating him like Lucifer was leagues more superior to Adam. All that progress reset without any hope of repairing it.

Adams treatment of Lilith and later Eve was a learned behaviour, mainly because he was just following God’s direction.

The chains aren’t the only symbol of Gods control, Adam and Eve’s eye colours were changed from Brown and Mahogony to Gold, and they glowed softly with divine light.

It also caused the two of them to act more like angels than, well, themselves. This is something Adam grew back into the more time he spent in heaven, gaining the habits of the angels he spent more time around than other winners. It’s something that if he was made aware of, he’d despise.

God I love calling the cuff a shackle, because Adam knows the word and what it means but he can’t comprehend the implications because God won’t let him.

Adam had a lot of propaganda given to him when he reached heaven, mostly that Lucifer tricked Eve maliciously to get at Adam and that Adam was in the wrong for trusting his wife for even a second and all that lovely stuff.

Adams exorcist attire and casual gear all has armour that protected his chest, because he is conscious of the fact that he is missing a rib.

In which author uses way too many hyphens for it to be healthy.

Also, you know how mental health was in the past? Yeah? Good because Adam sure fucking knows :)

Toxic masculinity sure is a bitch isn’t it Adam?

Adam’s an unreliable narrator in the second half.

I’ve done so much gardening research for this holy shit.

My problem is that I can’t write dumb characters without giving them some niche that they’re a genius in. For Adam it’s gardening and animal handling. This guy kept up to date throughout the years no matter what. It’s his guilty pleasure. He even was the man behind many parks and gardens in heaven.

I’m losing the try to get Adam to keep holding his grudge against Lucifer for a little while longer battle.

#hazbin hotel #adam hazbin hotel #angst #hazbin hotel adam #writing #worldbuilding #fluff #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #adamsapple #ashes to ashes dust to dust #fallen angel #fallen angel adam #fanfiction #fanfic

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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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who am i posting two drabbles in the same week??

rowaelin // 2709 words // masterlist

It was always easy to tell if Rowan had a good or bad day at work.

When it was good, he would sweep in and drop a kiss to Roux’s chubby cheeks if she was awake. If she wasn’t, he would disappear upstairs to check in on her before coming back down and getting a rundown of the day from Aelin. Sometimes she would heat up leftovers from dinner for him to eat, others they would sit and finish whatever movie held her attention before she slipped out and retired to her home in the renovated pool house for the night.

When it was bad, the signs started as soon as he pulled into the driveway. The lights would flash through the window, the garage would open, close, and then… silence. It could be anywhere from five minutes to an hour before he would get out of his car, slowly push the door shut, and quietly trudge in through the mud room. Aelin would barely hear him put down his keys and bag by the door. His footsteps up to Roux’s room were nearly nonexistent if it weren’t for the creaking of that fourth step from the bottom.

Sometimes he would get into the tiny twin sized bed with his daughter and fall asleep shielding her with his body. Other times he would sit with her while he decompressed before coming down to check in with Aelin on how the night went. On the bad nights, he seldom ate anything at all. He just went through the motions of getting ready for bed until he inevitably passed out from whatever hours-long surgery he’d endured that day.

Tonight was no different. Aelin tried not to count the ticks of the clock above the fireplace while she watched tv, her stomach twisting with anxiety at the ninety-two minute mark. An hour and a half was almost the longest he had ever stayed in his car like that. She knew it was turned off, so there was no need to worry about fumes. It was just the idea of him sitting in the dark silence while trying to unravel the tragedy of the day that was eating at her.

The last time this happened, a young girl about Roux’s age had died on his operating table. It wasn’t anything he had done wrong, no. The little girl had just been too badly injured in the car accident. Everyone knew it was a long shot to save her. She’d barely had a pulse when they wheeled her into the operating room, her heart having stopped twice in the ambulance on the way over.

It wasn’t a story she had learned from Rowan himself, but from one of his closest friends at a barbeque for Roux’s fifth birthday a few weeks back. Aelin’s heart had broken as he quietly recounted the nightmare to Aelin where Rowan couldn’t hear, the two of them sipping their beers while keeping an eye on the father to make sure he didn’t get close enough to hear. It had ended with Aelin needing to turn away to wipe away a few stray tears before anyone noticed, and Fenrys gave her a brief hug. The pair had been busted then, Rowan’s eyes narrowing slightly at the blonde man beside her. Caught red handed learning a story he didn’t want to speak of, she had thought.

There had been a few other times since then that he’d taken his moment of silence, but nothing this long since that had happened. It had Aelin’s mind reeling with what might have gone wrong, her body itching to make her way to the garage to check on him and make sure he was okay. But there was a line there that she didn’t want to cross. She didn’t want to intrude on whatever process he underwent to come down after a hard day.

But her eyes didn’t leave the garage door, her body turned so she could see his face when he came in. As much as he needed to be sure that Roux was okay when he had shitty days like today surely was, Aelin needed to make sure that he was okay, too. For a thousand and one different reasons, she ignored why that was. She was his nanny, he was her boss, and she was only worried because she cared for him in the way that all nannies cared about the families they worked for that treated them well. Right?

The movie she’d paused was long forgotten, the brand of the television bouncing from side to side on an idle screen. It was another three agonizingly slow minutes before the garage door opened, the scrape of the sill against the floor as deafening as it was startling. And then there was the look on his face.

Much like a couple months ago, his face was hewn from stone. Even from here she could see the signs that tears had slipped past the iron clad dam he usually had on his emotions. Red cheeks, slightly puffy under eyes. His nose had been kissed by grief, raw from how many times she assumed he’d blown or wiped at it with a tissue or his sleeve. The usually straight posture he had was deflated with shoulders that slumped inward.

The one thing different about this than the others was that he had immediately zoned into where she sat on the couch, his eyes roving over her face and what he could see of her body. Almost like this time it was her that he was checking on, that he needed to know was okay.

Aelin opened her mouth to speak, but he held up a single finger before making his way upstairs. When he was halfway up, he looked at her over his shoulder one more time before she would disappear from his view.

The soft jiggle of Roux’s door handle being turned was her cue to rise from the couch. Her feet carried her to the kitchen where she immediately started a kettle for some tea and then began pulling the night’s dinner from the fridge to warm him a plate. If he didn’t come back down, it would be there when he did. Worst case scenario, she would just force him to eat breakfast in the morning even if it meant waking him from a dead sleep.

Fifteen minutes hadn’t passed when she heard that creaky step announce his descent. Aelin stayed quiet in the kitchen, readying two mugs on the island for tea while the microwave hummed a quiet song behind her. If she wasn’t always so acutely aware of Rowan Whitethorn, she probably wouldn’t have heard his bare feet as he made his way into the kitchen. Still, she said nothing in case he didn’t want to talk and simply proceeded to make his tea precisely how he liked it.

As she placed the kettle down on a dishrag, Rowan’s arms braced either side of her, locking her in place where she stood. He was so close that his chest was pressed against her back. Even through their shirts she could feel the heat radiating off his body, off his biceps that rested against her shoulders. And then his forehead was gently resting against the back of her head while he took a deep breath, almost like he was… savoring the way she smelled. Like she hadn’t been wrong when he first walked in and she was the one he’d needed to know was safe.

Instead of freezing up like her body wanted to, she kept up the task of making the tea. Or trying to, anyway. The few times she had been this close to Rowan had always resulted in her brain short circuiting, and more than anything she was trying to not make a mess of the boiling water and the glass cups she handled with shaking hands.

“I made you tea,” she whispered, pushing the cups toward the side of the counter with the barstools.

“Thank you.” More-so than usual, Rowan’s voice was low and gravely. Another tell that at some point he had almost definitely been crying. The only other time he sounded like that was first thing in the morning or the few times she’d been around him when he was drunk and exhausted, accent heavier than usual and voice so low it gave her goosebumps.

Instead of replying she just nodded slightly so as to not disturb him. He simply kept breathing in the scent of her lavender shampoo, each exhale tickling the back of her neck and shooting small zips of electricity down her spine. The microwave beeped three times to proudly alert that his dinner was finished, but neither of them moved to deal with it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Moving her gaze from the tea, she looked down at his hands. His knuckles went white at the question and he inhaled deeply one more time before turning her so she was facing him.

Their faces were so close that she could count the small smattering of freckles he had across his nose from summers spent in the sun. The rich green of his eyes were more prominent than she’d ever seen them, the color enhanced by the vessels that were bloodshot. Gold and brown and every shade of green she could name was swirled in his irises. They weren’t just green anymore than hers were just blue.

“I lost a patient today.” His words weighed heavily between them despite being barely more than the minty breath across her face.

“I know.” Rowan nodded once, his fingers ghosting over her hip. For several heartbeats she watched his hands almost touch her, graze her skin, and pull back into fists before starting the process over again. Like he was fighting himself not to touch her even though he wanted– or needed– to.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, looking up at him through thick lashes. “You can– it’s okay.”

Consent seemed to be the key. Rowan was tender as he gathered her up in his arms, treating her like she was one of those cups behind them that might break if handled too roughly. Knowing he needed some sort of physical affection, she melted into him easily. That thing that had been brewing between them, that she had convinced herself was all in her head, was now a wire pulled taught as she pressed her cheek against his chest.

Rowan let out a shaky breath, his lips pressing to the top of her head in a lingering kiss. Her own arms wrapped around his sides, hands sliding over the muscles of his back before meeting in the middle. With feather light touches, she traced invisible shapes and lines with her fingernails over the fabric of his t-shirt. One of his hands cradled the back of her head with his thumb making soft soothing strokes over the side of her neck. The other was splayed across her back to keep her tightly pressed to him.

She didn’t have any complaints. He was freshly showered– likely using the facilities at work– and smelled like pine and snow and so distinctly Rowan. Aelin wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but the way he smelled was quickly becoming one of her favorite things in the world. And even if this was all only in her head, she would take this small gift from the gods and run like hell with it.

The cocoon of his arms shifted around her and he pulled back enough to look at her face. His fingers slipped between the silky strands of her hair until they rested in the little dip at the base of her skull with his thumb on her jaw. So much emotion swirled in his eyes as she looked up at him, not knowing what was going to come next. Her heart pounded like a timpani all the same.

“The woman that died on my table tonight shared a birthday with you.” Aelin noticed the way his throat bobbed as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. His brows were furrowed, his muscles tight beneath her fingertips. “I didn’t know that until after, but… her hair was almost the same golden hue. Her eyes were blue. Not like yours, nobody has eyes like yours. But they were still blue. And in the brief second I saw her barely conscious before she was put under, from across the room they looked close enough.”

“Rowan–”

“I couldn’t save her. I tried but I couldn’t save her and all I could see was you on the table.”

“I’m right here,” was the only thing she could think to say. It seemed to be just enough because he nodded, leaning forward to rest his brow against hers. Their breath mingled between them, his eyes falling closed as he steadied his ragged breathing. Aelin was almost positive she could feel his heart thundering away in his chest– or maybe that was her own pulse she felt down to her fingers.

Rowan’s eyes opened once more to search hers, his calloused thumb catching her full bottom lip as he said, “I think it’s about time we stop dancing around this, yeah?”

“Not like this,” she whispered, the words falling like stones between them. His head lifted, eyebrows pinched together. “I don’t– I don’t mean no. I don’t–” Aelin let out a shaky laugh and moved her hands to his sides. Rowan didn’t move away, which was good considering the bang up job she was doing with words at the moment.

“You think this is just a grief response.”

“I think you’ve had a really long and hard day and I don’t want you to do or say something you’re going to regret tomorrow–”

“I could never regret you, Aelin.”

And then his lips were pressing softly against hers, asking permission where she didn’t feel like she ever needed to give it in the first place. For months she had known that she was his, however he wanted to have her. That she had desperately wanted it to be this but never would have pushed without him giving in.

So she kissed him back fiercely, relishing in the way his hand tightened on her hips but softened where he held her face. She breathed every second of the moment in, the same way she had all the others. It had been months of push and pull, of subtle touches and words with double meanings. Rowan and Roux were everything that she wanted for her future. She just couldn’t believe he wanted her to be part of theirs.

They kissed until the tea had cooled and his dinner was cold. What he had been hungry for wasn’t food, she found out, when he carried her all the way up to his room and quietly shut the door behind him. He had been starving for her, to feel his hands over her soft skin, to feel her nails leaving marks across his back. Rowan swallowed up her moans as quickly as she released them from swollen lips and chased her own release with his own.

They both drifted to sleep like tangled vines. When she was the first to wake just after the sun came up– her biological clock alerting her that Roux would be up and wanting breakfast soon– anxiety had begun to pool in her stomach. What if he did regret last night? If it had all been the result of grief and him needing a warm body to coax him into a dreamless sleep? He was her boss, and she loved Roux more than any of the kids she had ever nannied for. What if she had just thrown that all away on a whim?

Her mind was reeling as she laid beside him. Back and forth she went about whether or not she should quietly leave, and just as she decided that she maybe should, Rowan began to stir from his deep slumber. His arm tightened around her waist, tugging her closer as he rubbed his nose against her shoulder. A laugh almost escaped her lips, but worry had an iron-clad grip on her nerves.

It all vanished, though, when he opened his eyes and saw her next to him. Because the moment his sleepy eyes met hers, Rowan smiled.

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