#I also need to wash the fabric bc I had no idea I should do that before this past Thursday.

[yuriathames]

Updates from bluesky on bat bag 2.0 (it was almost doneeeeeee); time to use the broken needle as the excuse I needed to start over yet again.

[illneverrecover]

static voice pt 2 | kth (M)

➛pairing: Demon Taehyung x Fallen Angel Reader (ft. bff Angel Jin) ➛summary: It's been weeks since his healing, and yet you still have a lingering demon house guest - something your best friend isn't going to let you ignore. However, with more time that passes, you realize... do you even want him to leave? ➛genre: Angel/Demon!AU, fluff, humor, eventual smut ➛word count: 3741 ➛rating: 18+ for this installment, please check each part for rating as there will be smut ➛warnings: cursing, some quick descriptions of violence, some heavy petting. ➛notes: Demon Taehyung demanded a full story line, and here we are. Shout out to static voice anon who started this whole thing by sending a simple ask -- you have no idea how much your encouragement means! And as always, sending love to @allbutmemorywillfade who sent in the original prompt which lead to the creation of these sweet dinguses, and who has been nothing but supportive & kind. You're too good to me 🖤 This is rough edited and unbeta'd bc I have no patience whatsoever. ➛song: Mine - Sleep Token & I Can See You - Taylor Swift ➛tagging: @jimins-ass-eater, @quinnkoo, @thatlongspringnight​

It’s Sunday morning, and there is currently a demon folding laundry on your bed.

Everything about that sentence should be blasphemous, and yet, it’s become normal. Well, normal for you. Certainly not normal for any other Fallen you’ve ever known. 

Taehyung’s brow furrows as he concentrates, sorting the mass of clothes first into piles before making way to fold each piece. His hands are precise, fingers lining up each seam as he works, eyes only leaving his work to dart towards the TV playing something in the background. He liked having something on for noise, he had explained, and who were you to question someone willing to fold your clothes?

Jin would say that your use of that argument is what led to having a demon for a roommate in the first place, which is exactly why you keep these kinds of thoughts to yourself - you didn’t ask for that kind of negativity. 

Not that there was any downside that you could see. Sure, you hadn’t asked Taehyung what his plan was yet, but you also hadn’t needed to. He was the epitome of a perfect house guest, slotting into your life easily and effortlessly. He was considerate, always offering to assist with any healings that he could; from triaging those who showed up at the door, to talking with them softly while you worked, easing their anxieties with a few kind words. And in those difficult sessions where there was nothing for him to do, he offered what he could - his presence, his reassurance.

It made you feel safe, knowing that he was on your side, no matter what you opened your door to. 

“Does this need a hanger, or am I supposed to fold this?” 

Taehyung holds the garment pinched between his fingers, eyes peering up to meet yours. It’s a black silky dress, mostly held together with string and a prayer, and you know for a fact it was something you hadn’t worn recently - let alone put in the wash. 

Heat creeps up your neck, and you fight the embarrassing urge to rip the fabric out of his hands and throw it out the window. The demon blinks at you with wide blue eyes, and you wonder not for the first time if he’s fucking with you. 

The other thing about Taehyung is that he’s impossible to read. His ability to go from the aloof affectionate demon who cuddles with your cat to the flirty winky man who drops innuendos in your kitchen leaves your head spinning. Worst of all - at least, to you - is that nothing has happened since that night at your place four weeks ago. Other than a few lingering glances that leave you questioning, Taehyung has made no more comments about his desires, which you try not to think about. Even if it’s driving you crazy. 

“That needs a hanger - though I have no idea how that ended up with the laundry, I haven’t worn it in ages.”

It was something you had purchased on a spontaneous whim, back when you had first become Fallen. It had made you feel sexy, powerful; and you had nowhere to wear it, so it had lived its life mostly stuffed in the back of your closet. 

“Oh, I put it there,” Taehyung says, nonchalantly, as if he’s discussing the weather. “I was going through your closet to see if there were some things you could donate to that shifter that you healed two nights ago and found it crumpled on the floor. It was too beautiful to leave in that condition.”

Fighting the urge to sigh, you instead fix him with a glare. 

“Oh? So you were aware it needed a hanger,” you grumble, though there’s no heat in your tone. “And what am I supposed to do with it now? It’s not very practical to wear for healing,” scoffing, you nod towards the dress. 

“I disagree,” Taehyung sniffs, placing the garment on the hanger before laying it down on the bed delicately, smoothing it over with a palm. “I think the sight of you in that dress could be healing in more ways than you could imagine.” 

Suddenly, the air in the room was stifling and you forget how words work, instead just blankly staring at the demon on your bed. He looks up at you, the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, and before you can formulate a response, a loud sound interrupts from the other room. 

“HEY! Lucky, you asshole, I’m trying to walk!” Jin yells, clearly fighting a battle with the cat in the foyer of the apartment. “Where is everyone, anyway?”

“In here!” you call out, moving to grab the dress off the bed and put it in the closet before the angel sees. You’re not sure why you feel the need to hide it from him, but the last thing you need is him doing something to embarrass you - especially after Taehyung managed to fluster you so thoroughly. 

Jin bumps the door open with his hip, his arms full of plastic bags, various groceries sticking out of each. “These are the groceries I owe you after eating all your last ones,” he announces, eyes scanning the scene he’s walked into. “I want it to be known for the record.”

“Hi, Jin!” your demon roommate greets, moving to stand. “Want me to put these away for you? I was just finishing up laundry.”

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, and you do your best to ignore the pointed question he was daggering into your skull, instead answering for him. “That would be great, Tae. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Tae,” Jin echos, sliding the bags easily into the blonde’s arms. “We’ll  meet you out there in a second.” 

You’re about to mouth off about how Jin isn’t your father and he doesn’t get to order anyone around, least of all you- but Taehyung is already acquiescing, leaving the bedroom with the soft click of the door.

“So, he folds your laundry for you now, too? What’s next, he gets your dry cleaning? On Wednesdays, are you going to drink wine and do face masks?”

Tsking, you cross your arms. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jin. We both know I don’t have dry cleaning, and face masks are part of Smut and Skincare Sundays.”

This time, the angel doesn’t hide his annoyance in his glare.

“Come on, you know what I mean. I get why you haven’t kicked him out, but…” he sighs, plopping himself on the edge of your mattress. “What are you doing? What is he doing? What’s the end goal here?”

It’s what you’ve been asking yourself these last few weeks, and yet you’re no closer to coming to answer now than you were before. All you know is that you enjoy having him around, and something about the unreadable lanky demon being nearby gives you a sense of peace you haven’t felt since before becoming a Fallen. A feeling of comfort, of safety - and you’re terrified of losing it. 

“I don’t know, Jin. I just know that I don’t mind having him around,” you avoid his eyes, instead rounding the bed to finish putting away the clothes. “It’s nice having help with the healings, especially with the late night calls. You know I don’t like being alone here.”

You leave the other piece unsaid - that you don’t like being alone, at all. That Taehyung’s warm, infectious laughter and mischievous charm added light back into your once dark, monotonous days. That it felt like he belonged there - but that you have no idea how he feels, at all. 

The silence is heavy, as if Jin could read your mind, but if he does he doesn’t say anything, instead letting loose a breath. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I’m not trying to be a hard ass or anything, but I am trying to look out for you.” 

“I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,”

“I know that, too.”

“At least promise me you’ll talk to him about what his plans are? If he intends on staying here indefinitely, or…” Jin pauses then, as if he doesn’t want to even go down the route. “Whatever. But promise me you’ll discuss it?”

He reaches out then, stopping you in your tracks until you meet his eyes. There’s no longer any annoyance there, just genuine concern, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel any more at ease. 

“Yes, Dad,” you tease, shaking your hand free with a grin. “I promise I’ll talk to him. But it’s certainly not going to be in front of you, so it’ll have to wait for tonight.” 

“Fair enough,” Jin moves to stand, reaching for your door. “Just make it soon, okay?”

He closes the door behind him, and you hear his voice joining Taehyung’s in the kitchen, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. Why are you so scared to talk to Taehyung? It has nothing to do with his status as a demon, something you barely noticed outside of his beauty; you could tell he was a genuine being, regardless of his beginnings. And he’s easy enough to talk to, has been nothing but a perfect gentleman of a roommate. 

It’s easy to tell yourself that it’s because it’ll be an awkward conversation, one that has the potential to make him feel awkward as well, something that you don’t want in the least. But if you’re honest - truly, deeply honest - it’s because you’re scared that he will leave, and you’re not sure that you want that at all, anymore. 

Actually, you know you don’t want that anymore.

The answer seems simple enough, then - have the discussion, ask him to stay. 

But why does the thought of asking him make you feel like you’re swallowing glass?

“You better come out here if you want to help pick dinner!” Jin yells, and shakes you from your thoughts. 

Joining them in the kitchen, you see they made quick work of putting away the groceries, leaving the counters clear with the exception of a few paper take-out menus. 

“Grocery shopping exhausts me,” Jin explains, nodding towards the array of menus. “It’s my treat, just let me know what sounds good and I’ll go pick it up. I promised Tae I’d stay for a movie.” 

After settling on a local Thai place, Jin calls in the order before heading out, demanding that you both are on movie selection duty in his absence. 

Plopping yourself onto the couch, Taehyung joins you, sitting side by side so close that your thighs are pressed together. Ignoring the building heat his proximity brings, you quickly grab the remote, scrolling through various streaming options trying to settle on something that you’d all like. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Taehyung interrupts, voice low.

“Of course.”

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?”

Tearing your eyes from the TV, you focus on his ethereal face illuminated in the flickering light of the screen, on the intensity in his eyes. He looks distant; his gaze still bright, but more serious than usual, more lost. 

“What do you mean, Tae?”

He sighs, a mixture of resignation and something more. “I mean, what if I wasn’t a demon? What if I hadn’t been injured, or it had happened in another district with a different healer? What if you hadn’t Fallen? Would our paths still have crossed?”

His eyes are a bright cerulean blaze, more solemn than you’ve ever seen him before, and it has you frozen in place. It feels like he’s asking you something much bigger, much more vulnerable than he’s letting on, and it makes your throat tighten. 

Meeting his stare, you reach for him, taking one of his hands into your own. “I believe that some connections are meant to happen, regardless of the circumstances,” you reply, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “We could have made different decisions, but ultimately, our souls found each other and brought us together.” 

It’s then you realize just how close you are, how close his face is to your own, how his body is pressed up against every inch of your side. The intimacy of your words and your bodies has you feeling exposed, and yet you can’t seem to pull away. 

Taehyung’s gaze meets yours, his eyes shimmering with emotion. “You really think that? That some connections are destined?”

“Of course I do,” you nod, and his answering smile is almost blinding. Sliding his hand away from yours, he instead launches into a hug, pulling you to his chest. 

“Thank you for saying that. You really have a way with words, you know,” Taehyung murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You have no idea how much peace your presence brings me, Angel. It’s something that I thought I’d lost forever.” 

His words have your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, your tongue thick with the things you want to say. You’re even more affirmed in your decision to ask him to stay, pulling out of his embrace to do just that, when a loud knock at the door startles you both. 

“Hello? Is this where the Fallen healer lives?” a male voice calls out, one you don’t recognize. “Please, I just need some healing - are you home? Hello?”

Moving to open the door, you wait until you hear Taehyung follow in step behind you before answering. Leaving the chain lock in place, you open the door enough to peer into the hall. “Yes, how can I help?” 

A demon stands there – the tiny horns barely visible in his dark hair – black like his wrinkled suit. He was dressed like he either just left some sleazy bar or was on the way to one, though based on the stale whisky scent emanating from him, you’d guess both. 

He gives a low whistle, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Damn, they didn’t mention how pretty you are, just that you were the closest healer. If I wasn’t so hungover, I might try to shoot my shot, but at the present, I-” 

“Nevermind, I’m not home,” you deadpan, moving to close the door, when the demon's foot stops it from shutting completely. 

“Please, wait! I’m sorry, you’re right, that was rude of me–” he starts frantically, clearly not wanting you to leave. “Listen, I’m just really, painfully hungover, and I have a big meeting I have to get to with some guys that I do not want to piss off and I was hoping you could help me out a bit. I just need a little healing, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” His hands wring together, and you notice how much his teeth are working his bottom lip, the tinges of his fear evident despite his bravado.

Glaring at him, you sigh heavily before peering over your shoulder to lock eyes with Taehyung. If all he needed was a little hangover cure, it should be simple enough of a healing without taking too much of your energy, and then he could be on his way. Easy enough. When your demon gives you a reassuring nod, you turn back to the stranger. 

“Fine, a quick healing, and then you leave me alone.” 

“Yes, of course! Thank you, seriously,” he continues, pausing as you unlatch the chain and open the door to let him inside. “I really appreciate it.” 

Standing in the entryway, it’s once he closes the door behind himself that the stranger finally notices Taehyung, eyes narrowing. “What’s another demon doing here?”

“He helps me,” you reply, giving the same simple answer you give anytime the question is asked by a creature looking for your services. At the end of the day, it’s none of their business who he is and why he is with you, and the less information given, the better. “We’ll do the healing down the hall.”

Moving to get your supplies, you go to show him to your workspace but he’s still paused, glaring at Taehyung. 

“What, he helps you, you help him, that kinda thing?” he sneers, speaking to you but still only looking at Tae. “Can’t say I blame him, you really are a looker. I bet you’re really fun to play with.”

Temper snapping at his words, you spin on your heel to point to the door. “That’s it, you’re done. Get out.” 

Before the demon can utter a reply, Taehyung is in his face, as if he was waiting for your unspoken signal to spring into action. Holding him in place with a fist in his suit jacket collar, he shakes the demon once, walking him backwards toward the door. “You heard her. Leave now, and do not return.” 

“Come on! Can’t you take a little joke?” the asshole shouts, any pretense of niceties fully falling away. “It’s just a quick healing, you sensitive bitch!” 

You can feel the change in the atmosphere when Taehyung tenses, his form seemingly trembling with restraint as his pupils blow out until his eyes are black. “You’re going to regret that,” he murmurs, a sinister smirk on his lips.

A bright light has you covering your eyes, slowly blinking until you can make out the form of Jin, his wings fully spread and an angelic dagger in tow.  The Thai food was still in bags in his other hand, Jin clearly returning from his trip only to walk into a different kind of battle.

Dropping the bags by the door, he saunters into the room.

“He’s right, you will regret that,” Jin says, voice even, “but you’re going to have to deal with me now, instead.” 

Plucking the demon out of Taehyung’s hold, Jin tugs him into a headlock, placing the blade at the bottom of his throat before turning toward the door. “Taehyung, why don’t you make sure our girl here is all taken care of while I take care of the trash, will you?” 

He waits for Taehyung’s nod, and then Jin looks at you. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you affirm, stepping closer to Taehyung. 

“I’ll come check on you guys later.” He nods, and then he’s out the door, a bright light streaming through the cracks as it closes. 

And then, it’s just the two of you.

Taehyung immediately springs into action, arms sliding around your shoulders as he guides you to the couch, draping a blanket around you once you settle. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, he continues his task, moving next into the kitchen to put the take out in the oven to keep warm before putting the kettle on for tea. Finally, he searches through the newly stocked pantry for a sugary snack, something that will appeal to your sweet tooth. 

“What sounds better, sour gummy bears, or those nerd cluster things?”

“Sour gummy bears, please,”

Soon, the coffee table before you has a cup of hot honey lavender tea and a little bowl of sour gummies, and Taehyung is settling beside you, reaching for the remote to find something to put on TV. You feel cozy snuggled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you and your overly affectionate demon beside you, and it’s then that you realize just how comforted you really feel.

Effortlessly, without you realizing, Taehyung knew what to do to soothe you, knew the actions that would bring you peace after something stressful had happened. He didn’t need to be asked, or told – just sprang into action to support you, asking for nothing in return. There was only one other person who had done that for you, even before becoming Fallen, and that was Jin. 

The thought has your heart thrumming in your chest.

Pressing play on some vampire show, he then leans back on the couch, pulling you with him until you’re resting cuddled into his chest. “Is this okay?” he asks, eyes questioning. “If it’s too much, I can go get some pillows instead.”

It’s his thoughtfulness that finally breaks you, has tears welling in your eyes as you stare into his depthless gaze.  You can’t hold it back anymore, the question you were going to ask, and you blurt it out before you can doubt yourself. 

“Taehyung, will you live with me?”

 His eyes widen in surprise, and you feel your stomach drop, scrambling to explain. “I don’t know what your plans are, or how long you wanted to stay here… But I’ve come to realize that I really, really like having you around, and I don’t want you to go. So I wanted to ask, would you stay here with me?”

The surprise in his gaze fades, leaving behind wonderment, adoration. 

“You want me to stay?”

Not trusting your voice, this time, you just nod, giving him a watery smile.

Taehyung scoops you up, practically pulling you into his lap and  immediately wrapping you into a big hug, squeezing you so hard your lungs fight for air. “Yes! Yes, I’d love to stay with you.” 

A deep chuckle reverberates in his chest, and you can’t help but join in, his laughter and joy infectious as he crushes you. “No one has ever asked me to stay before.” 

You go to pull away, to move back to your spot on the couch and to continue this conversation, but Taehyung’s arms lock you in place, holding you to him. 

Brow furrowing,  you go to question him, but then his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is electric, sizzling down your spine and through your veins until you’re dizzy, until you’re consumed in nothing but the feeling of him and his mouth moving against yours. You’re drunk with it, on the precipice, and when his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, you let him tumble into your mouth, salvation be damned. 

“Well, what do we have going on here?”

Jin's voice startles you both, interrupting the kiss. Breathing heavy, you go to slide off Taehyung’s lap, but he is having none of it; instead tucking you in closer and giving the angel a proud grin. Rolling your eyes, you stay put, working to get your heart back to a normal rate. 

“I would say I’m surprised about the whole kissing thing, but I’m not,” he continues, moving fully into the living room to face you both. “However, could you tell me why in the hell you were both glowing?”

[thedreadvampy]

I love your bleach paint shirts they are amazing and you look incredible 🌠

Would you by any chance have any pointers on how to get started with that for someone who'd love to do stuff with bleach but has zero idea how it works nor much artistic talent/skills?

Honestly the reason I'm so into bleach painting lately is that I tried it last year and discovered it is like. CRAZY easy to do. all you need is regular household bleach, an area that it's ok to get bleach on, and a paintbrush. other stuff that's useful is electrical tape and card (for masking/stencilling) and a good spray bottle/mister. Recycling the kind of spray bottles cleaning products come in will give you a very blotchy/streaky effect which looks cool but will probably not stencil super well in my experience - I use a hairdressing mist bottle for stencils that gives a really even coverage.

As a step by step, my process looks like:

Put on light coloured clothes/clothes I don't care about, make sure soft furnishings are well out of the way, and cover any fabric (I have lino floors so usually just move the rug and work directly onto the floor)

Get the clothing I want to work on and put some thick cardboard inside it to hold it flat and make sure I don't bleach through onto the back

Draw out a design in however much detail is useful to you. I use a white pencil so it shows up well - dressmakers chalk would probably also be a good shout.

Cut any stencils I want to use (card, cartridge paper or tracing paper all work but bleach will just soak through regular paper. I have also had solid results cutting shapes directly out of gaffer tape) and stick them on with double sided tape.

Pour some bleach into a jar to work with, put bleach in the mister. Make sure you have some tissue or paper towel on hand bc bleach does go everywhere.

Paint with the bleach! I just use regular nylon paintbrushes for this. You should see the line developing almost straight away, but it might take a while depending on the fabric - sometimes you have to paint a bit blind while the bleach takes a while to work. Resist the urge to paint over it again until you've given it plenty of time!

Rinse it when you think it's developed enough! As soon as I'm done, I take the shirt to the bathroom, take the cardboard out, hang it up in the shower and just fire water at it. Once the water runs clearish, I rinse it properly in the sink. I do the shower step to make sure I've taken off a decent amount of the surface bleach before I submerge it cause I worry about the bleach spreading, but it may not be a necessary step. The water will probably run rust-red or grey for a while - that's what you want, that's the dye washing out of the bleached fabric.

I usually hang it on the bath for a tiny bit to drain off and do any last bits of developing, then stick it in the washing machine on a rinse/spin cycle.

Once it's dry you did it! New t-shirt!

Strongly recommend buying a good few plain black t-shirts to practise on and try out techniques with ☺️ I may go to fast fashion hell for this but I have a box of like 5 black shirts in my wardrobe that I replenish regularly for when I Get The Urge - I get ones that are like £3 from supermarkets and Primark/H&M and hoard them 😅

More details under the cut:

Some stuff about the properties of bleach:

Compared to pretty much any paint, bleach is SUPER viscous. Putting a brush in and pulling it out will stretch out a long string of bleach, and you have to reload the brush a LOT because it'll really only do one brush stroke because bleach likes to stick together

There's a temptation, always, to water it down to make it lighter or easier to work with. DON'T DO THIS (except if it won't come out of a spray bottle without it, and then water it down SUPER sparingly). Reducing the concentration of the bleach will extremely suddenly take it from "will give you a clear bright line" to "the fabric is very slightly paler if you squint in the right light"

The wetter the fabric gets, the more all the bleach will spread. So the more layers of bleach you put on the surface, the less crisp and more glowy the mark gets. In particular, cause spraying the fabric gets it fairly wet, I would always advise doing most spraying and stenciling last if you want to mix painting and stenciling.

Bleach obviously develops over time - depending on the fabric and the concentration you should get a fairly clear idea of how it's going to look after 5 minutes or so, but it will keep developing for a while and it looks a bit darker when it's wet, so you don't 100% know how it'll turn out until it's washed and dry.

There's two ways to moderate tone in bleach painting:

How much bleach you put on the surface (which you can control either by how much bleach is on the brush, or by layering up several rounds of bleach...remembering that the more you layer it, the blurrier it gets)

How long it sits (there's an upper limit to this - if it's been 10 or 15 minutes and it's still not as bright as you want you probably need to go over it again)

Because of this, you always want to start with the stuff you want to be brightest - so, on the ACAB design I started with the highlights on the lettering and the pig, the white squares on his hat, and his white fangs. Then I did the outlines, then worked down from brown to black.

Design notes:

You can't rely on getting crisp edges when you layer bleach on bleach, so I think it helps to leave some empty space around key details like lettering (like a black outline). One thing I've been experimenting with is masking areas off with cut out electrical tape or gently stuck-down card stencils that cover slightly more area than the design so I can work on a background without making everything a blurry mess

It's also very hard to rely on how dark or light an area will come out, so if you try to do bright white against dark brown, you might end up with a whole area of bright white. So again, outlines and empty space are your friends.

Bleach does spread and it is heavily affected by the weave of the fabric, so don't rely on getting tiny clear detail

Cool stuff bleach can do:

Spraying from a mister, spraying from a spray bottle, and just splashing/dribbling/throwing bleach directly onto the surface all give really different and fun effects and it's really nice to layer those up imo

Because of how viscous bleach is, you often leave drops and trails of bleach unexpectedly when you move your brush. this is a feature not a bug it looks Cool And Punk and you can use it to add interest

Different fabrics go different colours. Some go bright white, some go orangey/yellow - if you're really lucky, I've seen some t-shirts that go a really reddish orange and you get some cool bloody effects like that. As far as I can tell, fabrics with a higher cotton content are likely to go brighter (my denim jacket has gone almost bone white under concentrated bleach whereas most cotton mix t-shirts I've done go a fairly bright yellow/orange) while ones with a higher synthetic content may bleach a bit darker/greyer/murkier.

One other note is that bleach does damage the fabric's integrity a tiny bit. Not much, but if when you rinse it the back side of the fabric is more or less as bright as the front, you might want to treat the shirt with a little more care than otherwise - it's not a huge issue, but a few of the shirts that my partner made a few years back have started to develop holes in areas where there's been particularly heavy bleach.

[luveline]

Okay but what about Eddie and reader having been going strong for awhile and Eddie wants to take things further and ask reader to marry him, but he wants to ask Roan’s permission first bc he cares about her opinion.

I thought this was so cute! it's almost entirely eddie and roan but r is mentioned lots and lots and is also a bit long my bad 🥺 ♡ fem!reader

He really wants to get you a ring.

Eddie Munson can be stupid. He makes rash decisions all the time. He bets on the wrong horses and he's almost always late to parent-teacher conferences. He buys Roan's clothes by holding them up to her body in the middle of the store and asking her if she likes them. He knows there's a thousand wrong decisions to make and half of them he's already made, but he really thinks this is the right one.

He just needs Roan to agree.

You're at your own place for once. Not for Eddie's lack of trying — he'd asked you to move in twice already, and though you'd kissed him silly and told him you loved him an insane amount, you'd reasoned that you should keep your place. (Though you had, in a way, moved in anyhow.)

"I don't want us to rush anything, Eddie," you'd said carefully, eyes on Roan's dark head of hair across the room. He'd followed your gaze. "I don't want to be the evil step-mom."

He'd promised that could never, ever happen.

He probably shouldn't have. While Roan literally loves you so much it makes her cry, things can change.

Right now, Roan thinks that she's sharing Eddie, and she's doing a great job at adapting to all the changes that come with that. Your clothes in his room, your coats on the hangers. Your work stuff where her princess ponies used to live, your fancy shampoo next to her jellybean two-in-one. Getting married would make you her bona fide mom. Eddie's not sure Roan realises that she's the one who'd be getting shared.

Though you act like you're her mom already. It's one of the many reasons he loves you. You've never once made Eddie feel bad for being a dad, or for having Roan full time. You genuinely miss her when she's at Wayne's. You love his daughter. You play games and you sing songs and you cuddle her whenever you can. You wash her hair and take care of her curls, you do plaits and bows and bunches. You'd learned how to do all of that stuff without ever having been asked.

Eddie wants to marry you so badly it's a physical ache.

Which is why he's as scared as he is to ask her about it.

"Roan?" he calls, stretched out over the couch with a coke can on his chest. Moping, maybe.

"What?" she calls back, voice littler still because of the distance.

"Are you busy?"

He hears the tap running and then she appears, water dripping down to her wrists. Eddie swaps her for the coke can, rubbing her wet hands dry with the excess fabric of his shirt.

She sits on his stomach. She's incredibly big and small at the same time.

"What, dad?"

"I got something to ask you."

Roan squirms until Eddie brings his legs up to let her lean against his thighs like a chair.

"It's a big question," he says tentatively.

Roan crosses her arms in front of her, hands on his stomach. "Like, big as you?"

"Right. Super big."

She nods thoughtfully before flashing a huge, charming smile. "Okay."

Eddie lifts his hands to her small face, tucking her freshly shorn locks behind her ears. Long hair like daddy had been a good idea in theory, but she just can't stand all the fuss of it.

"I'm asking because... You're five now. And I know you have lots of big feelings. I wanna know what you think about-" He doesn't chicken out, per se, more like opens softly midway through. "Uh, how you feel about Y/N."

Roan wrinkles her nose. "I love her."

"I know you do. And you don't mind that she spends so much time here?"

Again, Roan looks perplexed. How many times has she cried now because she wants to see you and you're busy? How many times has Eddie told her you can't spend all your time here? It probably doesn't make much sense to her that he'd be asking.

"No. I wanted her for my princess party after and you said no."

He grins ruefully. "I didn't say no, babe. She couldn't come because she's at her own house tonight."

"Why can't she be at our house?"

Brilliant question.

"She has stuff to do." Like make sure moths haven't eaten your clothes. And dust.

You don't really spend a lot of time there.

Roan harrumphs. "Whatever. Why can't we go to her house, then?"

He takes Roan's hands into his and toys with her smaller fingers. "I can't really explain it. But you like when she's here all the time?"

"Yeah," Roan says, clearly bored of this conversation.

He laughs under his breath and steels himself for a bunch of huge questions.

"You know I love you more than anybody else?" he asks.

"I love you more," she argues.

"No, like. Out of everybody in the world, I love you the most. I could love Uncle Wayne the most, but I love you the most." Sorry, Wayne.

And while Eddie loves you so much (and Wayne, of course), it's the truth. You're always gonna be that tiny fraction below, though Eddie's not sure he likes the word below. It's a different kind of love, regardless.

Roan seems really, really happy with this prospect. She giggles for a second and throws her arms out toward him, face landing perfectly under his chin.

"I love you, daddy," she says. She manages to sound both shy and exuberant, little face digging into his collar. "I would pick you out of the world too."

"You would?" he asks. Eddie's not too proud to admit he wells up. He laughs it off, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as he can.

"You first. Um, and Uncle Wayne and Y/N and damnation and Stacey P. second most."

"Damnation your imaginary dog is on the same level as Uncle Wayne and Y/N?" he asks, laughing hard enough to shake under her hug.

"Dad!"

"Sorry. Your totally real and invisible dog."

"Well, maybe not as much as Uncle Wayne and Y/N."

"No, I thought so."

She hides her hands inside of his short sleeves. Eddie lets her get on with it, happy and honestly buffeted by her affection. He feels both the euphoria of having a great kid and the self-satifaction of a parenting win.

"Do you think Y/N loves me that much?" Roan asks. "In the world?"

"Yes," he says without hesitation. "Of course she does."

"Mm," Roan hums, pleased. "I miss her."

"If I ask you my really big question, maybe we can go see her afterward. But it's- it's a big question, Roanie, I mean it. And it's okay if you don't know the answer, or if you feel mad or angry first."

Roan looks very concerned, climbing up on his chest to giggle at him. "Ast me, dad."

He blows her hair out of her eyes with a breath from the corner of his mouth. Heart in his throat, he grabs a hold of her waist in one hand and tries.

"I want to ask Y/N to marry me."

She blinks.

"I don't know if she'll say yes, but if she does that means lots of things would change. We would live together, and we'd maybe not live so close to Uncle Wayne, I'm not sure. Do you know what I mean?"

Roan leans forward. "Marry in a wedding?"

"Yeah. A big wedding. Or actually maybe a little one. I haven't really asked. Roan..."

He drifts off, distracted by her lovely tiny face growing more and more excited by the second.

"She would-"

"She would be my mom?" Roan shouts, eyes wide with a blazing amusement. "She would be my mommy?"

"Sweetheart," Eddie says apprehensively, "I'm not sure-"

"Oh my god," Roan says, already climbing off of his chest.

"Roan, I really need to finish talking to you," he says, listening to her sprint away in defeat. He rubs his eyes for a second, stressed, though slowly he starts to smile.

That's a good reaction.

That's a great reaction.

"Roan, if we get married, that means more- It means a lot of things," he calls, struggling to keep the smile out if his voice as he gets onto his feet to track her down.

"Yeah!" Roan calls.

Eddie walks down the hall and finds her in the middle of her room, backpack in the middle of her floor and upheaved. She's crammed three different teddies inside and a mismatched pair of pajamas, and now seems to be deciding between her pens or her long crayons.

"Babe, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting my stuff!"

He bites back a ridiculous smile. "For what?"

"You said we'd ask the question and go see Y/N," she whines, expecting a rejection.

"I didn't ask my question yet."

Roan shoves her crayons into her backpack and stares at him expectantly, a frenzy of ringlets and a palpable excitement.

He feels suddenly sheepish. "So can I... Is that okay? If I ask her to get married?"

Roan starts laughing like a maniac, the smallest, most intense vestibule of joy that's ever existed. "Dad, I need my shoes."

"No, but you can't tell her! It's a secret!" he warns seriously.

"You said we could go!"

He looks down at his girl. She's frenetic, jumping on both feet with her hands bunched into fists like she's willing to fight him for this. She wants to see you so badly now she's practically vibrating.

"Alright. Alright, come on. Let's get your shoes on."

Roan screams and runs past him, almost barrelling him down. He picks up her backpack and zips it closed, standing in the middle of her room for a few private seconds.

"Holy shit," he whispers.

"Dad!"

"I'm coming, Roan," he says, closing the door behind him.

-

more eddie and roan

[meltwonu]

47. “Shut up.”

         “Why don’t you come over here and make me.”

39. “You taste like fucking candy.”

notes; AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES… lord i just love the idea of fucking an annoyed mingyu kdsjfhkds, cocky!mingyu, dirty talk, using panties as a gag, a little oral(fem receiving)/fingering, a little cum eating. Also forgive me bc im trying a different formatting of my drabbles and rly im just turning them into 1k-ish word fics?😭😭 I JUST CAN’T SHUT UP and these get so long so theyre not rly drabbles anymore sorry but also ive gotten so far without renaming the entire drabble game thing so… ye. Should i rename this drabble game? Or is it okay? Sorry that i cannot write short things…😭😩 should i include a word count?😅 I’m a mess and this is longer than 1k so the rest is under the cut!! Thank you for requesting!!! Enjoy!💕

“Fuck, Mingyu, you left your shit in the washing machine again! Can you just get your shit together so I don’t have to wait on you all the time!?”

You prop a hand on your hip, watching as the male raises a brow from his place on the sofa when he turns his attention to you.

“Why don’t you go clean the bowl you left in the sink then, huh? I can say the same thing!”

Your lips press into a firm line; annoyance clear on your features. “My one fuckin’ bowl isn’t deterring you from using the sink but your shit in the washer is preventing me from washing my damn clothes!”

The tall male gets up from his spot on the sofa; annoyance obvious on his face as well. “You’re just so…”

“Just so what, Mingyu?”

He grits his teeth as he makes his way to leave and deal with the laundry. “Forget it.”

You watch as he moves his things to the dryer before shooting you a harsh stare and beelining straight for his room across the hallway.

You finally manage to put your things in the washer once Mingyu retreats to his bedroom and it beeps once when it finally finishes, 45 minutes later.

Except now Mingyu’s clothes are just sitting in the dryer.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you storm over to Mingyu’s bedroom, flinging the door open with the intent of giving him a piece of your mind again. 

“Mingyu, you fuckin’----”

“Fuck!”

Your eyes flit all across the tall male with his back against the headboard and  you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his large hand wrapped around his thick cock; throat going dry at the view. “Uh---”

“Don’t you fucking knock!?”

The words die on your tongue the longer you stand his doorway, and he, too, makes no effort to move from his place on his bed. “M--maybe if you fucking moved your shit from the dryer on t-time!” You retort; already losing the fight in your voice the longer your eyes fixate on the leaking tip of his cock.

Mingyu’s at a loss for words himself and he’s unsure of what to even do to make the situation less awkward.

But he will admit; your flustered expression might’ve made his cock twitch.

He clears his throat, “I don’t see you leaving. Finally owning up to the fact you wanna fuck me?” Mingyu grins; cockiness replacing the awkwardness he was feeling moments prior.

“Shut up.”

His grin falters momentarily before it’s back; his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me.”

Mingyu is meticulous. You have to admit.

He cleans while he cooks and makes sure his utensils and prepping station are absolutely spotless before the meal is even done cooking.

He’s apparently also just as meticulous with his tongue when he eats you out; fingers knuckle deep and curling into your g-spot just as he uses the tip of his tongue to tease your clit for the umpteeth time. “Ngh, fuck---fuck you, Mingyu!” You lock your hands into his permed hair, tugging on it slightly when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard.

“God, fuck y-you!” You grind against his tongue and fingers as you get closer and closer to the verge of an orgasm.

Mingyu pulls away slightly, lips glistening and wet. “You taste like fucking candy. It’s a shock considering your sour nature.” He mutters quietly, only loud enough for you to catch it as the heat blooms on your cheeks. “Just shut up and eat me out.” You mumble back.

Scoffing, he thrusts his fingers into you harshly one more time. “I think you’ve had enough actually.” He wiggles his fingers inside of your wet cunt as you moan out. “It’s time for you to give me what I want too.”

He pulls his fingers out, popping them into his own mouth as he licks your wetness off of them. Your grip on his hair loosens as he starts to sit up between your legs; his long hair falling into his dark eyes when he looks down at you. “Get up, we’re switching places.”

“Fine.”

It takes you a second to maneuver around the tall male on his small bed; huffing when he lays down against the pillows. “I ate you out and fingered your ‘lil pussy so now you can ride my cock and pull some of the weight around here.” He snides.

A smirk paints its way onto his features as you clench your jaw and sit down onto his thighs. “You’re lucky I needed to get laid or I wouldn’t be this willing to ride your fuckin’ dick.”

“Oh please, you probably dream about my cock. I see you eyeing me when I’m just walkin’ around in my sweats. I bet I’m who you fantasize about when you’re getting off with that vibrator of yours. Which, by the way, is fuckin’ loud. I hope you realize I can hear it when I pass by your bedroom. You should really---mmph!”

You quickly stuff your soaked panties between his lips before he can say anything more; gritting your teeth. “You really need to shut up. You’re cuter with your mouth closed or eating me out.”

Mingyu wasn’t… technically wrong. You just didn’t want to hear it right now.

You quickly shimmy your body up until you can reach down and wrap a hand around his cock and Mingyu places his hands on your waist to steady you as you slowly start to sink down onto him. “O-oh, fuck…”

A garbled moan spills from your lips as you feel him filling you up inch by inch; already wanting to start a quick pace as you chase your own orgasm.

Mingyu groans from around the panties between his lips and he tosses his head back as your tight, warm walls clench around his cock.

He thought about you sometimes too. Not that he’d admit it either.

It takes a few tense seconds and a few stuttered breaths before you’re completely seated on his cock; the tip of it already curving into your g-spot as you give yourself a moment to adjust to his size. “Y’know, if you w-weren’t such a cocky son of a b-bitch, I wouldn’t be so, ah, opposed to fucking y-you… G-god, I’d probably even, ngh, d-date you..”

You slowly start to swivel your hips as you mewl; Mingyu’s cock fit inside your cunt so perfectly. “But all y-you do is, hah, c-complain about m-my messes when you’re m-messy too…”

Mingyu’s blunt nails dig into the skin of your naked waist as you alternate between bouncing in his lap and swiveling your hips. And in return, his harsh breaths are all you can hear as you fuck yourself on his cock. He knows he could easily flip you onto your back and fuck you into his bedsheets until all you knew was his name, but he plays nice for now and lets you have your fun while you could.

“What were you t-thinkin’ about, huh? Before I walked in h-here. Were you thinkin’ about, ah, me? Do I get you s-so heated that, mmh, you g-get hard? Are you t-that easy?” You shoot him a cocky grin of your own as you clench around his cock. He narrows his eyes at you before he plants his feet firmly onto the bed and bucks his hips up into you; effectively jostling you and making you bounce harder in his lap as he starts to fuck you.

A sharp whine escapes past your lips as he starts a quick pace and you're quick to meet his movements as you slam down onto his cock with each of his thrusts. The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm as you both unload all of the sexual tension that’d been brewing for the few months that you’d been roommates.

Your saccharine moans and whines mix in with Mingyu’s harsh breaths and muffled groans as you both feel yourselves inching closer and closer to the edge. He can already feel his cock twitching and he can already feel the way your walls tighten even more around his cock with each passing second.

You reach a hand between your body and his; fingertips on your swollen clit as you race towards your orgasm. “Fuck, I, ah, w-wanna cum…” You mumble.

Mingyu bites down onto the fabric in his mouth as he tosses his head back again, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat as he starts to feel his abdomen tightening with his impending orgasm.

And he doesn’t warn you when he cums, but you can feel his cock twitching and his cum filling you up as his thrusts lose their rhythm. You let out a choked moan at the feeling and you rub quicker circles on your clit as you throw yourself over the edge and into your orgasm as well.

Mingyu lets out a muffled groan as he feels your walls fluttering around him and for a moment, he tells himself he could get used to fucking you.

“Oh, g-god, you’re, ah, fu--fucking cumming so---so much inside of m-me…” Whimpering, you slam down onto his cock as you both ride out your high and Mingyu’s eyes fixate on the way his cock slides out of your wet pussy covered in his cum and your wetness.

Mingyu moves a hand from your waist to pluck the soaked material out of his mouth; tossing it to the side as he gently massages his jaw.

“Look at you, still fucking yourself on my cock. Want more already, huh?” He watches as you reach down and scoop up some of the cum that settled onto his skin, lips parted slightly as he lets out a soft moan. You continue to swivel your hips atop his lap, waiting until your orgasm completely ebbs off before you come to a full stop. 

You pop your wet digits into your mouth, keeping eye contact with him as he commits to memory the way you suck on your fingers and swallow down the cum. 

He grits his teeth as he watches you repeat the action. “Such a good girl cleaning up your mess, huh? That’d be a first for you, wouldn’t it?” His eyes twinkle with an almost evil glint when you finally pop the clean digits from between your lips and move to straddle his thighs again; this time, globs of cum dripping from your pussy as his cock slides from inside of you.

Images of you in different positions flit through Mingyu’s mind as he smiles.

“Say, do you really want to know what I was thinking about before you walked in?”

[translightyagami]

A short piece about Soichiro's thoughts when he finds out about Lawlight if you can and would like?

(i think people might be sick of me making Light being able to sew, like, a personality trait but they are going to continue in that sickness bc BAYBEE i did it again ... also thank u for the fic prompt lol)

cross-posted on ao3!

Soichiro found Light in the task force floor kitchen, at the table with a silver handcuff around his wrist. Through chair legs snaked the chain to an empty, open cuff across from Light. He was alone. As Soichiro entered, he knocked the door frame and his son glanced from his work – stitching back together a sleeve on a familiar white shirt.

“Hey, Dad,” Light said. “It’s late. Aren’t you supposed to be home?”

“Oh, I’m staying for a bit longer,” Soichiro said. He stood at the counter and considered washing out his mug. Brown rings traced the bottom telling of a full day of too much caffeine. “Are you … where’s Ryuzaki?”

“You mean this?” Light raised his wrist, shaking the chain with a little jingle. “He’s with Watari, going over the budget for the building. Staff and stuff.”

“And you’re alone,” Soichiro smiled into his words, “because he trusts you. That’s progress!”

“Mm.” Light drew his eyes back down to his sewing. His long fingers worked a backstitch with red thread, the quick movements closing the armpit of the shirt. “He’s got cameras.”

Swallowing, Soichiro resisted the urge to look around for the cameras Light mentioned. He liked, instead, the idea that L was giving a little. That was how things always were for Light, his good son. At some point, everyone gave in a little bit to him and his smile, his polite ease with all temperaments, the way he was good – in most meanings. Soichiro took the pot of coffee Matsuda had overfilled and poured a cup. Was Light good? Maybe he was overstating those qualities. Over the too-strong sip of coffee he took, Soichiro glanced to his son.

There was a hickey on Light’s neck.

“Has Ryuzaki let you be alone many times?” Soichiro, eyes still on the hickey, took a seat across from Light. “Do you get to spend time with that girl, Miss Amane?”

“Huh?” Attention not pulling away from his sewing task, Light scrunched his nose before snorting. “No, no. It’s only when he needs to talk to Watari about finances or something. Usually, I mean, you know. We’re attached.”

“Attached.”

“Package deal,” Light looked to Soichiro now, teeth showing in his smile. The smile faltered, slightly, when he noticed where his father’s gaze was. Dropping the needle and thread, he wrapped his hand over the hickey. “Dad.”

He didn’t look away from Soichiro, brown eyes so much like the ones that stared back from the mirror that Soichiro blinked, unnerved. What did he know about his son? What did he know about Light, his good son, who was a “package deal” with a man who thought of him as a maybe-killer? From the ether, Soichiro remembered in his early days on the force coming home to Sachiko teaching Light basic stitches. It was the first in a string of late nights where he came home before Light was asleep. His coming in hadn’t caught up to them, so he hung back – watching as his knob-kneed son threaded a pain-staking line across a fabric scrap while his wife pointed out small improvements he could make. He remembered the moment, clear as a glass breaking, because he had never taught his son anything in the quiet, focused way Sachiko was. And when he announced himself, saw how Light dropped the needle and thread to come spill all his academic achievements to his father, Soichiro wondered whether he’d ever willingly get to see that side of his son again. Someone struggling, someone learning – someone not good but trying their best.

Did Ryuzaki see that, when he had Light on-demand – on the end of a chain – all day and night? Across from him, Light brushed his hair forward to cover the hickey.

“I do his mending, sometimes,” Light said. His voice was a loop, low and cursive tone matching his needle as he started to stitch again. “Watari used to do it, but Ryuzaki said my work is better.” Red thread popped out from the white fabric – a fox poking out from its den. “You don’t approve. I know. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t say that,” Soichiro sipped, coffee catching in his mustache. “You should be careful. If he doesn’t trust you, you shouldn’t trust him.”

“It’s not about trust.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about being understood,” Light said. “I understand Ryuzaki. He, sometimes, understands me, knows things about me.”

Faint pink crossed Light’s cheeks. The look was weak – a visage of someone Soichiro didn’t recognize. He tried not to frown, but he couldn’t help the downturn of his mouth. In the vain part of his heart, he didn’t like Ryuzaki, L, whomever the man giving his son hickeys called himself, knowing anything about Light.

“And what sort of things does he understand about you?” Soichiro inhaled the steam of his coffee, nostrils flaring.

Now Light smiled and it was a crack in a wall – between the stone and serious of him Soichiro spied a terrible, secret garden. He picked up the white shirt again, rubbing the needle between his thumb and finger.

“He understands,” Light said, “that he shouldn’t trust me.”

Up his back, Soichiro’s muscles locked and he, in a strange moment of unison, understood such a thing as well.

[leejungchans]

— delicacy.

juliet’s masterlist

note: words in bold are spoken in english

set in late april, 2021

summary: in which juliet makes lets dino try an australian delicacy for the first time.

a/n: idk where this idea came from but i’m not regretting it one bit bc i think this came out pretty cute 👉👈 also this gif 💔 god i’m not your strongest soldier

“Wait, how many of them are home?”

Juliet’s hand, outstretched and holding the key to their dorms, pauses as she turns to look at Chan, noting how he has gotten even more nervous since they got into the elevator.

“Not all, some of them are still at the company,” she reassures. With her free hand, she reaches for one of his, though it’s not easy with the bags of takeout he’s holding. “Besides, you’re our senior! If anyone should be nervous, it’s them,” she jokes.

“Wrong,” Chan says sulkily as she turns away briefly to unlock the front door. “When we’re at work, then maybe. But now I’m your boyfriend, not their senior, so it’s different.”

“You’re right,” Juliet agrees, as they step in and remove their shoes. She looks around the common space to find it empty. “But they like you a lot already, so there’s no need to worry. See? No one’s here—”

As if on cue, they hear one of the bedroom doors open, and Yunho walks into the living room seconds later. “Oh, hi!” he says cheerfully when he sees Juliet and Chan by the front door. “Just make yourself at home!”

“Where are you going?” Juliet asks, setting the takeout bags on the kitchen counter while she watches him put on his sneakers. Next to her, Chan takes off his mask before washing his hands at the sink.

“They sent me to go get food.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Yeosangie, Wooyoungie and Jongho.”

“Why not just choose the delivery option?”

Yunho smiles bashfully. “Because we’re idiots and forgot.”

This earns a small snort from Juliet. “Okay, fair enough. Be safe!” she calls out as Yunho heads out with a wave. She turns back to Chan with a grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Yeah... just seven more to go. Then again, you had to meet all twelve of them at once,” he says with a small smile, referring to his own members. “So it can’t be worse than that.”

“That’s the spirit!” she cheers, beaming at him before she grabs the bags and moves them to the dining table.

Juliet is in the middle of laying out all the takeout boxes when she hears him ask, “Uh... what’s this?”

She turns around to see Chan fiddling with the iconic yellow jar as he attempts to read the English labels. “Vegemite. Have you had it before?”

“It’s the Australian spread, right?” Juliet nods. “I think I’ve seen it before when we were on tour in Australia years ago, but I didn’t try it.”

“Do you want to?”

What was Chan supposed to do? Say no to those eyes? When they’re now ten times more sparkly?

He watches adoringly as she eagerly grabs two slices of bread from the counter and practically skips over to the toaster, popping the bread in before leaning over the machine in favour of glaring at it intensely. 

“Is that gonna make them toast quicker?”

“Oh, shush,” she says, rolling her eyes at his teasing. “Come over and help me.”

“Help you... watch the toaster?” He’s already behind her despite the skepticism in his tone, arms wrapping securely around her waist and chin coming down to rest on her shoulder.

The two stand in comfortable silence for several moments as they continue to gaze at the machine. Nothing happens other than the smell of toasted bread beginning to waft through the air.

“Still think staring at it makes it work faster?”

Juliet makes a tiny humph sound. “This toaster is an exception.”

“Mhm, sure,” Chan mumbles against the fabric of her sweater, “whatever you say.”

She cranes her neck to throw him a halfhearted glare. “You can go get the butter from the fridge if you’re so impatient.”

“No, I like it here.”

“Then don’t—shit!” Juliet yelps, flinching in his hold when the toast suddenly pops up with a loud clunk. Her cheeks flush pink when Chan starts laughing, and she wriggles out of his arms to grab a butter knife. “Stop laughing at me!” she whines, throwing open the refrigerator doors in search of the butter.

“Sorry, you’re just adorable,” he says, putting the toast on a plate before following her to the dining table.

Juliet shakes her head in mock exasperation at him, spreading a thin layer of butter onto both slices before doing the same with the vegemite when at that exact moment, Yeosang and Wooyoung walk by them.

The former wrinkles his nose when he notices what she’s doing. “Your boyfriend comes over for the first time and you’re giving him... vegemite?” he teases.

“What is that supposed to mean, Kang Yeosang? Also, we’re obviously not having vegemite toast for dinner,” Juliet defends, gesturing to the food on the table. “We bought takeout. I’m just letting him try it.”

Wooyoung snorts. “Blink twice if you need help.”

Chan glances at Juliet, now slightly concerned. “Is it really that bad?”

Yeosang grabs a bottle of juice from the fridge and pours some into a cup. “It’s the only food in the house that no one other than her touches, and we literally eat everything else. Do what you will with that information.”

She gasps, scandalised. “Excuse me, Seonghwa-oppa said he likes it!”

“Trust me,” Wooyoung interjects playfully, “he wouldn’t be saying the same if any other one of us offered it to him. He only said it because it’s you.”

“Whatever, I’m not standing for this vegemite slander,” Juliet huffs, shooing the two boys away. “Enjoy having no taste.”

Wooyoung flicks her forehead lightly before pulling Yeosang along with him, nearly causing the older boy to spill his drink. “Have fun, lovebirds!” he yells over his shoulder. “But not too much fun!”

Juliet turns back to Chan with an unimpressed expression. “You see what I have to put up with?”

He grins in response. “Maknae struggles.”

“Maknae struggles,” she agrees, holding a piece of the toast to his lips. “Well, bon appétit.”

Somewhat warily, Chan takes a bite and proceeds to chew slowly, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar taste. Juliet peers at his expression in an attempt to gauge what he’s thinking.

He swallows. “It’s good.”

“Liar,” Juliet says affectionately. “You don’t like it, do you?”

He grins sheepishly. “Okay, you got me. Not that it’s disgusting, it’s just... not bad... but not good.”

“You’re so cute,” she says, pinching his cheek gently. “You don’t have to finish it, by the way, I’ll eat it later after we finish our food.” Then she remembers something. “Wait, I have something for you in my room.”

“You can just grab it after dinner.”

But she’s already out of her seat and halfway down the hall. “No, I’ll forget later! I’ll be back in a few seconds!”

A few seconds turns into minutes as she rummages through her overflowing closet whilst grumbling to herself, the fact that she left Chan defenceless in the living room completely slipping her mind. She’s not a disorganised person, especially when it comes to her clothes and closet organisation, so she blames their hectic schedule for its current state.

Eventually, she finds his lavender hoodie squished between two of her own, and heads back to the dining room when she sees—

“Choi Jongho, what are you doing?”

He turns away from Chan to smile at her innocently, wholly unaffected by her narrowed eyes. “Nothing.”

“That didn’t look like nothing.”

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Jongho says, looking down at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “I gotta go feed my pet fish. See you!” And with that, he disappears back into his room as quickly as he had appeared.

They don’t have a pet fish.

Sighing, Juliet sits back down next to Chan. “Sorry about that, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he reassures with a soft smile. “He was very sweet, though he did give me a friendly reminder to never hurt you. But I don’t mind, it just shows that he cares about you a lot.”

She returns the smile. “Yeah... he does. They all do. By the way, here’s the hoodie I borrowed from you last time,” she says, holding out the folded garment. “It’s washed and everything.”

Chan grins, setting it down on a spare chair. “Honestly, I didn’t expect to see it again when I gave it to you.”

“Excuse you, I’m not a thief! But... does this mean I can have it?”

a/n: okay so a few years ago i went on a study tour to australia and the host family my friend and i were staying with let us try some and we both thought it was pretty good ahjshwjs 🤩

i hope you guys like the fluff in this update bc this is the calm before the storm hehehe 👉👈 anyways gn besties lemme know what you think of this 🥺💗 thank you for reading and i hope you’re doing well!!

[ahsbitch]

The Grey-Outpost!Michael Langdon x Reader

Word Count: 5143

Summary: So I got this message for my prompts and it was supposed to just be a blurb like the others but it was already getting way too long and then I realized it would fit really well with a oneshot idea I had a month or two ago sooo here we are

Warnings: so many, nsfw, smut, virginity loss, first time, first orgasm, actually first three lmao, fingering, choking, Mean!Michael, slapping, overstimulation, emotional manipulation, brief blowjob, unprotected sex, breeding kink, a little bit of corset kink, some cockwarming bc it’s me, very Sub!Reader, also overly nice reader which probably doesn’t need a warning but I’m putting it anyway, , mentions of violence, some waxing poetic bc again that’s just me, floor licking, some?underwear stuff? Idk man, did I mention swearing bc that’s here too, idk, that’s all I can think of but my brain is not entirely focused so if I missed something I’m sorry

A/N: I’m sorry I’m like this but I hope it’s okay. Comments are always appreciated! Even just in the tags of a reblog! Or a message! Or anything! Hearing your reactions makes me feel so good!

Mini Tag List: @wroteclassicaly​ @michaellangdonstanaccount​ @guiltyfiend​

@angelicmichael​

(i actually don’t remember if all of you asked to be tagged in stuff or not so if you didn’t i’m really sorry i just thought i’d put a few people, if you want me to...Not tag you in stuff that’s totally cool and i totally get it just let me know, if you do want me to tag you in stuff also let me know on that front) 

You confused Michael Langdon. 

It wasn’t intentional, he was sure, but he was not used to being confused by the behavior of humans.

You also annoyed him, although that was less surprising. 

Most people annoyed him. 

But you annoyed him for the same reason that you confused him, and that just made him all the more confused and annoyed and annoyed and confused. 

How the hell were you so nice? 

You treated everyone who crossed your path with such kindness, even though most of them treated you like you were dog shit on the bottom of their shoe. And you simply...smiled? Nodded? Did as they said, if they gave an order, or ignored them if it was just words. 

He had never even seen you complain about your servant status, never seen you look at the drab grey of your dress with even an ounce of disdain. 

He’d taken to reading your thoughts, even more than he did with the others, trying to find the cruelty hidden inside you. 

Once, one of the Purples whose name Michael hadn’t bothered to learn had walked into a ladder that you were standing on for some job or another, and you had fallen to the ground, landing hard on your back. The Purple had cursed at you for getting in his way, and you apologized instantly. 

What an asshole, You had thought, and Michael had started to get excited, but a moment later you had shaken your head at yourself, and your thoughts continued, No, Y/N, don’t be unfair. They live a different type of life here. It’s not his fault that he sees me like this at this point, he’s practically been indoctrinated.

What utter bullshit that was, and yet you’d seemed completely contented with that thought, climbing back onto the ladder to finish your task. 

Another time he had walked in on you being beaten while Venable watching, smirking. He had simply stared for a while, watching the way you took your blows. 

“What’s going on?” Michael had asked, blood boiling at Venable’s smug expression. 

“A reminder. She’s been a bit slow in her work lately. Distracted, I think, with your proposal of paradise. She needed to remember her place.” 

He had nodded, turning back to observe you, listening for your reaction to those words. 

I haven’t been slower, though. She’s just been angrier. Poor Ms. Venable, she must be scared. I wish she wouldn’t take it out on me, Your stream of thought had paused as you let out a cry of pain, But I hope that she’ll find some type of peace. 

In interviews, Michael had started to ask about you. 

“She’s nice,” Gallant had said rather dismissively, “That’s about it. Not memorable. I don’t think anyone would miss her.” 

“She helps everyone finish their work, even though she has her own,” Another Grey had said, tilting his head to the side in thought, “I saw her take a beating in Mallory’s place once for a broken lamp. I don’t think that’s the only time she’s done that, either. She’s a little too sweet, almost. It can’t be real, can it?”

That was Michael’s thought too, but you were that sweet, or so it seemed. 

He’d begun instructing everyone during their interviews to either completely ignore you or be cruel to you, to treat you with extra disdain, to not bother with respect. He’d told Purples and Greys alike, had watched out to see them following his orders. They were doing it, and you were slowly becoming more and more alone,and yet you never so much as thought anything cruel in return. From time to time, a nasty thought would pop into your head, but you always brushed it away almost instantly, scolding yourself into something overly forgiving of their behavior. Still, you were lonelier than ever, and that meant that it would be all the easier to draw you to him. 

Your interview was the last one that was scheduled, and with every moment that led up to it he found himself getting more and more ready to break you down, and every time he thought of that he found his cock getting harder and harder. 

He was going to ruin you, in more ways than one. 

And then the interview had started, you sitting in your chair with your hands folded neatly in your lap, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with him, a polite smile on your face, and something had snapped deep inside him. 

He wasn’t sure what did it. Maybe it was your answer to why you should be taken to the Sanctuary. 

“I don’t know that I should,” You’d said simply, your damned respectful smile never wavering, “I mean, it would be nice. But I’m not particularly special, right? And if the Sanctuary is meant to be people carrying on the human race, shouldn’t it be the people who are going to make the biggest difference? I know you said that what I thought i was weakness could be my saving, and I get that, I just don’t know if I have any particular weaknesses or any particular saving graces. If you need someone to wash floors or cook in the Sanctuary, then yeah, I’m pretty good at those things. You might want me. But I don’t know that I have any particular talents or powers that would make me more useful than anyone else.” 

Maybe it was what you had said when he’d asked about your anger, about whether or not you would get revenge on any of the others for the way they’d treated you, if you got the chance.

You shrugged, taking a few moments to think about your answer before you spoke, “No. I don’t blame them for it, not really. The world ended. The fact that any of us are alive is strange enough as it is. Them being cruel is probably more of a defense mechanism than anything else. I wish they wouldn’t use me for their anger, or their disdain, or their sadness, I kinda wish they’d just leave me alone sometimes, but I wouldn’t want to get revenge even if I got the chance. I don’t think they deserve to be treated badly, even if they’ve treated me badly.” 

But most likely, it had been your answer when he’d asked what exactly you were thinking about right in that moment. 

“The end of the world, Mr. Langdon, sir,” Your smile finally dropped for just a moment, your embarrassment evident, “And your eyes. They’re very beautiful. I was thinking that heaven probably isn’t real, but if it is, it probably looks something like your eyes. But of course it’s much more likely that hell is real, based on recent events, in which case it probably looks something like the world we live in right now.” 

Michael had stood, instructing you to do the same, and within moments his lips were on yours. 

Yes, he was going to ruin you in every way possible. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was so totally not how you had planned for your interview to go. 

Was it how Langdon had planned for it to go? Maybe. You wondered vacantly if this had happened with all of his other interviews, if all of them had found themselves lying on the floor, pinned underneath him, feeling him hungrily devouring their mouths in perhaps the best kiss that anyone had ever experienced. 

He trailed kisses down to your throat, hot, open mouthed, that you felt even though they were over the high collar of your dress, and he bit down hard, sucking harshly through the fabric. 

“Fuck!” You groaned out, feeling your skin go hot with embarrassment over the noises you were making. 

“Don’t hold back, pet,” He moved his mouth to your ear, kissing the spot just behind your earlobe as he murmured, “You make the most delightful little noises.” 

This served only to embarrass you more, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek to try and hide the moans that threatened to spill from you. 

Langdon’s hand made its way to your neck, squeezing at it as he pulled your head up closer to his, and you let out a pained whine at the pressure his palm put onto the sore spot he had just left on your throat, “Did you not hear me? Don’t hold back. I expect you to follow my orders. I’d think you’d be used to that by now.” 

“I’m sorry, sir,” You let out a strangled cry, and with a sharp smile he finally released you, letting your head drop back against the floor. 

“Next time you don’t listen to me, you will be,” He chuckled at your terrified expression, but after a moment he froze, raising a curious eyebrow at you, “What are you thinking about right now?” 

You weren’t naive enough to think that he actually cared about how you were feeling, but you answered anyway, scared of what may happen if you didn’t, “Honestly? I’m trying to decide if I’m more likely to be murdered by you or by Ms. Venable.” 

Langdon laughed again, moving off of you and leaning against the wall. He looked oddly comfortable like that, although you wouldn’t be surprised if his outfit cost more than the entire Outpost, and with a wolfish grin he patted his lap gently. 

You frowned, unsure of what that meant, but Langdon simply rolled his eyes and wrapped a hand around your wrist, tugging you into his lap. 

This was… odd.

After a moment, he gripped both of your wrists, raising your arms up and placing them on his shoulders, and you locked your fingers around the back of his neck, staring dumbly at him as you did so. 

His legs extended straight out, but he held you steady in his lap, arm wrapped your hips, your own legs perpendicular to his. 

This was very odd. 

“Now tell me,” It was interesting, the way Langdon’s words sounded more like a purr, “Why do you think that I would kill you?” 

Shyly you dropped your gaze, but then his hand was under your chin, lifting until you looked him in the eye, and you shrugged, “I mean… you said you would. It was like the first thing you told me when I came in. That if I lied or hedged or anything like that you’d...y’know...obliterate me.” 

“And have you lied to me?” His voice was sharp now, his eyes dangerous, although something playful still danced around the edges of his lips. 

“No!” You flinched, prepared for him to hit you even though he made no movement to do so, and after a minute, after you’d realized that no strike was coming, you blinked at him, “I, uh, no, sir. But you’re, well, forgive me for saying so, Mr. Langdon, but you’re very intimidating.” 

He was frowning now, just a little, and you probably wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been so fascinated by his mouth, “I’m glad you find me intimidating. I’d be a bit concerned for your sanity if you didn’t. But I have no plans at the moment to kill you, and as long as you keep telling me the truth like this, I doubt it’ll arise. Now, why would Venable kill you?” 

“She’s strict about her rules,” You felt your face heating up again, “No sexual contact of any kind. And we, y’know, we kissed. If she finds out, well, she’d even kill a Purple for breaking the rules so explicitly like that. She’d kill a Grey for a lot less.” 

“And we’ll be doing a lot more,” Langdon’s smooth voice echoed in your ears, and you shivered slightly at the insinuation, “Venable will not touch you.”

“Why not?” Your curiosity got the better of you, and you asked before you could think about the fact that it was probably a bad idea. 

Luckily, Langdon did nothing more than chuckle at you again, shifting slightly underneath you, “Because if anyone here is going to harm you, pet, it’s going to be me.” 

For some reason, his words made you clench your thighs, and you swallowed to avoid letting out a whine. 

“Yes sir,” You said softly, and then, when he’d started pressing kisses along your jaw, “There’s one more thing.” 

“And what would that be?” 

Clearing your throat, you fought to keep holding eye contact with him, “I don’t, I mean, I don’t want to be one of those people who fucks someone to get something. I don’t want to sleep with you just in hopes of going to the Sanctuary, especially because you could easily say you’re going to take me until after we’re done and then tell me you’ve changed your mind or something. I don’t want that. I’d rather you just... tell me the truth now.” 

“Alright,” Sighing, Langdon straightened up a little, shifting beneath you again so that you suddenly became aware of his erection pressing into you, “You’re not going to the Sanctuary, Y/N. Not even if we fuck. And we are going to fuck, you understand that, right?” 

“Yes sir,” You felt your gaze drop to his lips once more, “I understand. The Sanctuary thing and the fucking thing. May I please kiss you again?” 

“Not only may you do so, but I insist that you do,” His voice was cold now, but one look into his eyes showed you that he was pleased about this, and you frantically brought your mouth to his. 

Langdon slammed you back to the ground, and your head cracked loudly against the marble floor, making you feel a bit dizzy, and then his fingers found their way between the buttons of your dress and he pulled sharply, ripping it in half, and that made you feel even dizzier.

Holy fuck, how strong was he? 

“Lovely,” He murmured, his mouth running over your collarbones and up the curves of your neck, sucking dark bruises onto your skin as he went, “Don’t forget what I told you. I want to hear every single one of your sounds, understood?”

“Yes sir,” Your hands made their way to his hair almost of their own accord as he continued on, mouth drifting down to swirl over your covered nipples. 

“Turn around,” Langdon commanded, and he hummed his approval when you followed his instructions in merely a moment, kneeling before him but facing the wall. 

His long fingers made their way to the ties of your corset, beginning to work on the knot, and he frowned, “This is tied very tightly, pet. Doesn’t it hurt?” 

“I had Mallory tie it extra tightly for me, so I would have something to focus on other than my nerves for the interview,” You let out a hiss of relief as the corset came untied, “It wouldn’t hurt much, but you’re supposed to wear something under a corset, and Ms. Venable doesn’t give the Greys anything to wear under our corsets because she says our comfort isn’t a priority. So it kinda digs into my-ow, fuck, my skin.”

Your cry of distress had come when Langdon’s hands had pressed hard into the red marks that marred your back from your corset. 

“It really has done a number on you,” He helped you unclasp the front of your corset and slip it off, before bringing his hands to your hips, “Get on all fours.” 

You did as he said, unsure of why exactly he was asking you to do so, but you understood a moment later when the wet warmth of his tongue began to stroke along your spine. He licked along each mark that had been left behind, leaving a trail of coolness to follow, and although it stung with each moment of contact, it left some relief as he went. You mewled at the feeling, back arching towards him, desperate for more. 

“Feel better?” He purred, now drawing his nose around your spine.

“Yes,” You sighed pleasantly, “Thank-fuck!”

Langdon had shifted his arms so that one ran under your stomach, holding you in place, and with the other he brought his palm down on your back with all his strength. 

Tears were starting to spill from your eyes, leaving a puddle on the floor as he struck you four more times in quick, painful succession. 

“Aw, does it hurt, pet?” He was cooing at you, voice light and mocking, “Look at you. You’ve made a mess on my floor. Clean that up for me, yes?” 

Unsure of what that meant, you tried to look back at him to ask, but Langdon wrapped his hand around your neck and forced your head to the floor, his entire body pressed against yours, “Clean it up.” 

Hesitantly, you reached your tongue out to the floor, scooping the salty moisture up carefully. The pressure on your throat lightened up so that you could breathe more easily, but he didn’t remove his hand, and you frantically licked the rest of your tears off of the floor. 

Letting you sit up, he smirked at your shy smile, examining the floor carefully before praising you, “Wonderful job, pet. But it appears that the mess on the floor isn’t your only one. You seem to have made quite a mess down here as well.”

With that his hand cupped your pussy over your panties, which had become thoroughly soaked through. He pulled them down slowly, a rumble rolling past his lips at the sound the fabric made as it tried to cling to your damp flesh. He gave a tug and ripped them off of your thighs, bringing the shredded remains up to his face to examine it closely. Staring into your eyes, he poked his tongue out of his mouth and brought it to the fabric, laving slowly over the wetness that coated it. You moaned loudly at the sight, squeezing your thighs together. 

When Langdon was satisfied that he had gotten every drop of your essence off of the scraps of your underwear he tossed them carelessly in the direction of his desk, and then his tongue was on you once again, this time drawing painfully slow stripes from your knee up your inner thigh, ending just at your hip bone. 

“Did you like watching me?” There was amusement in his voice, a kind of mirth that could almost be mistaken for warmth, as he licked closer and closer to where you wanted him most, never deigning to touch you there, “Did it make you even more wet for me? Do you want me to eat your pretty little pussy until you can’t walk? Want me to let you drench my face?” 

“Please, yes, please!” You keened towards him and Langdon clamped his hands onto your thighs to hold you in place, bringing his thumbs down to spread your pussy lips open. There was something so intimately dirty about it that you let out another long moan, his breath fanning hot air against your folds, “Langdon, please, I’ll do anything you ask.”

He scoffed, nuzzling his nose over your entrance, “You’d do anything I asked anyway. But I will say, you have just about the sweetest pussy I’ve ever seen. And you smell divine, pet.” 

Whimpering, you tried to rut up to his mouth, wanting so badly to feel him against you, “Please, sir, Langdon, please, what do I have to do for you to touch me?” 

At those words, Langdon moved away from you completely, now not even letting his fingers drift over your skin, “Was I not touching you before? You’re incredibly ungrateful for someone who I could kill with less than the blink of an eye.” 

“I’m sorry,” You scrabbled to your knees, legs shaking, “I’m sorry, Mr. Langdon, I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. I’m so grateful to you, I am, I’m sorry.” 

“As you should be,” He sneered, but the bulge in his pants looked even larger than it had before, and the corners of his lips twitched up, “You do look very good on your knees for me. I think this is the position you’re meant to be in, the reason you were put on this earth. Why else would you look so lovely like this, look like such a pretty little slut? Open your mouth for me, pet.” 

This is happening. This is actually happening.

Eagerly, you complied, wrenching your mouth as wide open as you could, desperate to please him. Langdon unzipped his dress pants, reaching into his boxers and stroking himself, letting out a deep and rumbly groan as he finally pulled himself out. 

His cock was... beautiful? You hadn’t expected to find it so beautiful. The few dicks you had seen you had mostly found odd, fine enough but not particularly nice to look at, but Langdon’s looked like it had been carved by Michelangelo himself. 

It was also huge, as thick as your wrist and at least as long as your forearm, the tip a throbbing angry crimson. It was veiny, and you would’ve expected that to be strange but it just made it even prettier, an extra long and thick vein running up the side that oddly made your mouth water. 

A fresh wave of desire pulsed through you, but that didn’t stop your worry as he approached you, speaking your anxiety out loud, “Is that... I mean, is that going to fit?” 

Chuckling, Langdon pushed himself into your mouth with no warning, holding the back of your head with one hand as he began an intense, bruising pace, “What’s the matter, little whore? Never been with someone this big?”

That’s one way to put it. 

He froze suddenly, buried down your throat, his pelvic bone pressed against your nose, and slowly he looked down at you with a raised eyebrow, “Wait, you’re a virgin?”

You nodded slowly, and Langdon hissed at the movement, slowly pulling himself away from you, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You didn’t ask,” You shrugged, bringing a hand up to massage your jaw, “I didn’t think it would matter, I’m sorry. Does it change things?” 

Langdon gripped your hair, and he pulled you to your feet and into a bruising kiss all in one swift movement. Then his hands were all over you, stroking your skin fervently as he led you to his chair, sitting down and pulling you into his lap once more. The feeling of his dress pants against your bare skin was sinfully lovely, and you were suddenly aware of how exposed you were, when you could see almost nothing of him. 

After what felt like hours, he pulled away from you, his eyes dancing with something deeply dangerous, a brilliant smile on his face, “Of course it matters, pet I wouldn’t have even considered wasting any of my cum in your mouth if I knew your perfect cunt was untouched, waiting for me.” 

You let out a cry as he grabbed onto your hips tightly, beginning to draw you up and down over his length. His cock pressed into your folds, rubbing your clit, and every time he approached your entrance you gasped, “Holy, oh my, fuck, that feels good, Langdon I-”

“Michael,” He interrupted, moving you faster. 

“What?” You blinked up at him in confusion, and he felt his cock twitch at the sight.

“My name is Michael Langdon,” He pressed a kiss to your neck, beginning to suck a new line of hickeys, “You can call me Michael.” 

“Michael,” You sighed, clenching around nothing as a strange sensation started to boil in your stomach, something so pleasureful that you didn’t know what was happening, “Oh, fuck, Michael, you feel so good, please, can’t you just fuck me?” 

“Oh believe me, I’m going to,” His cock was twitching even more now, your name so perfect from his mouth, “But you have to be ready for it first. Come on, pet, come for me, just like this.” 

You mewled, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the boiling in your stomach became more, became overwhelming, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you let out a desperate shriek. 

“I didn’t, oh fuck, oh god, I didn’t know it would feel that good,” You panted, and Michael raised an eyebrow at you yet again as you buried your face in his shoulder. 

“Have you... have you never had an orgasm before?” 

You shook your head against him, letting out another gasp as one of his fingers started to toy around your entrance, “No, I haven’t. I mean, I thought I might have once, but it was nothing like that.”

“Have you ever had any fingers inside you?” He asked, even as he was already easing a finger into you, giving your walls a single stroke before he pushed two more in. 

“No!” You shrieked, the foreign sensation making you buck your hips wildly, “I, I mean, no, I haven’t.” 

Cock throbbing harder than ever before, Michael began to scissor his fingers around, stretching you out, “Fascinating. My little whore is so inexperienced.”

Moaning at his words, you lurched when his middle finger hit a spot deep inside you that made you see stars, “M-m-Michael, please!”

“M-m-Michael! M-m-Michael!” He mocked you, scooping the hand that wasn’t busy working you open under your ass, shifting out of the seat and lowering you to the ground, his mouth finding its way to your tits, “Wait, pet. Be a patient slut for me and you’ll be rewarded.” 

You nodded as he bit your nipple, toying with it roughly before kissing over to the other side, “Sorry, sorry, oh holy fuck that feels good.” 

Another orgasm was forming deep within you, more mewls leaving your throat as you desperately started to claw at his back, “Michael, fuck, Michael, I’m going to-”

“Good girl,” He purred, pulling his fingers out of you just as you started to cum, and then he slammed his cock into you with no warning, delighting in the bloodcurdling scream that you let out, letting out a guttural moan, “You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Desperate little slut, you were so ready for me to stretch you out, huh?”

“Wait, Michael,” You let out a sob, your cunt pulsing with overstimulation, “Michael, it’s too much, it hurts, please.” 

He was completely bottomed out in you, not moving yet, but he brought both hands up to wrap around your throat, cutting off all of your air, “Now now, pet, that’s no way to thank me for being so kind to you. You’ve cum twice now, haven’t you? And have I gotten to cum even once? No. Now, are you going to be good for me?” 

You nodded fervently, and he released you, leaving you gasping, “Sorry, sorry, Michael. I’m sorry.” 

“Good,” Michael started to pull out of you ever so slowly, moving at a glacial pace until just his tip was inside of you before thrusting in again, filling you up once more, “Oh, you feel good. Your pussy is fluttering all around me. But I should tell you, Y/N, I lied to you.” 

You let out another shaky sob as he hooked his hands under your knees and stretched your legs up, throwing them over his shoulders, continuing his pace of slow drags out followed by impossibly fast thrusts in, your hands scrambling for purchase on the smooth silk that covered his back, “Wh-what? What do you mean?” 

“I told you I wasn’t going to take you to the Sanctuary,” He grunted, his pace getting somehow even slower, in and out both, your slapping skin making loud, lewd noises, “I lied. I am. I’m going to pump you full of my cum, pet, until you’re overflowing with me. I’m going to breed you like the whore you are, and then we’re going to rule over the new world, together.” 

“I don’t understand,” Shrieking again, a whine bubbling out of your throat, you gasped as his hands moved to your tits once more, “Please, Michael, please can you go faster?”

It still hurt, but it was getting better, the pain being overrun with the pleasure. 

Michael complied, slamming into you, setting such a brutal, bruising pace that you were sure you could feel him all the way up in your stomach, “That’s my good little pet. Look at this, your pussy is devouring me. I’m going to wreck you, gonna mold your pussy around my dick so that you know that no one else will ever be able to make you feel good. Your perfect little pussy was made for me, and me alone. You were made for me. Your pussy, your ass, your mouth, these perfect tits,” He gave your breasts a harsh squeeze, running his thumbs over your nipples as you let out another scream, “They’re gonna be full of milk before you know it, filled up for our baby. Do you want to have my baby, pet? Do you want me to breed you? Fill you up? Ruin you for anyone else with my cock?” 

“Yes!” You sobbed, although you were barely conscious of what you were saying, barely even conscious of what he was saying, another orgasm fast approaching, “Michael, please! Fill me up! I need you!”

“Then cum for me,” Growling, he brought his nose down to touch yours, “Squeeze my cock with that tight pussy of yours, finish for me, and accept my seed knowing that you belong to me now, understood?” 

“Yes, yes, yes! Michael, I’m yours, I belong to you, yes!” Your screams were echoing around the room now, but you couldn’t hold back, not when he felt so good, and this time rather than a boiling in your stomach your orgasm felt like an awakening, like you were being reborn. 

You came harder than you knew was possible and Michael quickly followed suit, pumping you full of his thick, hot ropes of cum, more than he had ever cum before, filling you all the way up. 

Whimpering, you sat up, and rather than letting you move away Michael pulled you to his lap and dragged himself to the wall to lean against once again, hushing your mewls with a kiss, “Good girl. That’s my good little pet. I’m gonna stay inside you, okay? Gotta make sure you don’t lose a single drop.”

Nodding, you felt your eyelids start to flutter, your head dropping to his chest, “Yes, Michael. I’m...I’m so tired.”

“I know you are, little one, I know you are. Get some rest now. No one will interrupt us. Rest, my sweet, and have dreams of the future we will build together,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest, and letting out a happy hum as he felt you already drifting off, and before he did the same he whispered in your ear, “I’m proud of you.”

[undeadgirlboy]

battle jacket guide for baby punks

battle jackets or vests are really big in the punk scene. they also look cool as fuck. one of my favorite things about them is that each person's is different and represents their own style and interests. there are a few different steps u can follow to make one

step one. acquire the jacket

when making a battle jacket it's best to get one without any stretch to the denim bc the elastic threads in stretchy denkm break down faster than regular denim and when you're sewing things on it you might get a weird puckering effect. thrift stores like goodwill or salvation army are good places to look if you have time, but in my experience they don't have a lot of jean jackets. you can probably find one at walmart in the mens section, or target. if you'd like something with a more modern edge or higher quality denim you can check outlet stores like ross and marshalls. that's where i found mine for around 20 dollars. of course if you have the money you can get a Levi's trucker jacket or somewhere else more expensive. the color of the jacket is up to you. now that you have a base layer you can move on to customization

step two. washing the jacket

one important thing to remember about battle jackets is that they're handwash/no wash so it's best to wash your jacket before you begin. you have no idea who has worn or touched it before now. just throw it in the washing machine on cold and go blast laura jane grace for a little bit. personally i run mine through the dryer but if you'd prefer to air dry make sure you lay it flat because if not it will get stretched out shoulders.

step three. dyeing or painting

this is the part where you can possibly dye or paint your jacket. i have never dyed my jacket, but you can find fabric dye at Walmart and just follow the instructions on the bottle. i decided to spray paint mine because i had some cheap black spray paint and i wanted to know what would happen. if you're going to spray paint your jacket, make sure you do it outside and let it dry thoroughly before bringing it in. i left mine for about 18 hours so that the smell was completely gone. after that you want to turn it inside out and run it through the dryer with a couple bath towels for about 30 minutes to heat set it. spray painting your jacket will make it a bit more stiff. walmart and some craft stores sell spray paint that is made for fabric, but i didn't feel like paying for those so i used what i had on hand. i know those are pretty expensive and the bottles don't have a lot in them. if you only plan to handwash your jacket or don't plan to wash it at all, regular spray paint should work fine for you.

step four. back patch

most battle jackets that i have seen have a larger central patch in the back, with smaller ones on the front and around it. it's not essential to have a back patch but i think it helps to tie the whole jacket together. you can either make a back patch yourself or buy one. the site angryyoungandpoor.com has some back patches for popular bands. some bands also have back patches on their merch stores, or you can make one yourself. i made mine out of an old against me t-shirt. i measured around the design, cut it out, and then sewed it on the back of my jacket. if you want to make your own back patch you can do so in one of several ways that i will cover in just a second

step five. embroidering patches

there are a lot of patches out there that you can buy, but most of the time it's cheaper just to make them yourself. embroidery thread is pretty cheap at walmart, and all you need is sturdy scrap fabric to make something really cool. when you're embroidery a patch it's a good idea to get an embroidery hoop to keep your fabric taut. if you don't like the color of your scrap denim you can layer a different fabric over it. i had some stretchy cotton left over from cropping a t shirt that i layered over denim to help keep it in shape. this also makes it easier when you're sewing your patch onto your jacket. i don't recommend embroidering directly onto your jacket because it's harder to manage and if you decide you don't like how it looks and you rip it out you're left with weird holes that don't look good. it's all up to you but i wouldn't recommend it.

step six. painting patches

if you'd rather just paint your patches, you can always use fabric paint or fabric pens. it's best to avoid using acrylic paint because it wears off and cracks, but i have heard you can prevent that by mixing fabric medium into it. i have painted a few patches with acrylic paint but i used a layer of mod podge over the top to protect it. acrylic painted patches CANNOT go through the washing machine.

if you'd like to copy a particular logo or image with paint and you're not good with freehand you can make a stencil for it. the way i make stencils is by printing out my design and then covering the paper front and back with masking tape. once I've done that, i use an exacto knife to cut out the lines of my design and then i'm ready to go. you can use spray paint with a stencil or you can sponge fabric paint onto the design. if you choose to use spray paint make sure you have fabric paint in that color so you can fix up any problems with the design when you're done.

step seven. attaching your patches.

sewing is one of the most tedious parts of making a battle jacket. if you don't know how to sew you can google it. a lot of people use white embroidery floss or dental floss and whip stitch around their patch. if you're attaching an iron on patch that you bought, you should stitch around it too to secure it. make sure you're using a thimble if you're going over seams of the jacket, or sewing on an iron-on patch. at first it might seem fine, if a little time consuming, but days of finger pain isn't worth it. i prefer to pin my patches before sewing them, but you do you. for larger patches i first attach it with a thread that matches the fabric before using a contrasting whip stitch. that just makes things easier for me but it's not mandatory.

step eight. adding metal

spikes, studs and safety pins are a staple of punk clothing. safety pins are easy because you can get them anywhere and just put them anywhere. i got a bunch of varying sizes from walmart and i put them on everything. just play around and see what you like. you can find studs at your local craft store, probably in the leather working section. you just have to poke two holes in the fabric, push the prongs on your stud through, and then bend them back to secure it. you can also get studs online if you need to. i bought a couple packs of screw back spikes a little while ago, and i have since been adding those to a lot of my clothing. spikes are simple to add too. you poke a hole in the fabric, push the screw through, and then screw on the spike. some people recommend adding a dot of super glue in between the spike and screw to secure it, but personally I haven't needed to do that.

another way to add metal to your jacket is with chains. you can sew them on all the day down, or leave them hanging. it just depends on what you want to do. you can get short chains from walmart, or big rolls of chain from craft stores.

step nine. finish up

that's honestly about it. any of the information here can be applied to vests too. if your jacket is really crusty and you don't want it on your skin you can always wear a hoodie underneath, especially when it's cold. battle jackets can be worn with basically anything. mine has always been my go-to jacket for any occasion. make sure it actually represents your political beliefs and bands you listen to. get ready for people to look at you weird in the grocery store. if anyone has anything to add feel free to reblog, and if you have questions my ask box is open. you can always submit a photo of your jacket to my blog because i love seeing other people's diy stuff. wear a mask, stay safe, and fuck the pigs <3

[balkanradfem]

So I've talked before about my burning desire to go and build a separatist tribe of women in nature, preferably in forest next to a mountain or somewhere far out so that nobody would bother us. I've been keeping on building that dream in my head, but also in many practical ways, trying to prepare myself for it. This tribe would have to function out of capitalism, off grid, without the use of money or even electricity, unless one day I figure out how to produce some. So we use only technology that is not harmful to nature and produce everything we need to survive.

It sounds so surreal, but it's not a particularly wild idea, because humans have been doing this for millenia and lived, I presume, with way less of their population depressed and suicidal. It wasn't more than 80 years ago humans lived without electrity or modern commodities, my 85yo neighbour can still remember bathing in collected rainwater and washing the clothes in the river. (Don't worry, we wont have to wash the clothes in the river, I found a way.)

So what I'm proposing is in fact, far more reasonable, climate conscious and healthy than living in capitalism, only problem is: It's less convenient.

We're to assume it's convenience that brings us comfort and happiness, but I'm about to propose a counter-argument: It's not. It's boring and makes everything very impersonal and unsatisfactory. I can tell, but only because I've been shifting into that inconvenient, more-effort-put into survival kind of life. And, it's been a very fun, weird time.

So as you can see by my posts, I've been learning to grow food and to make meals from self-grown food only, and eating feels different. It's far from impersonal when you bring a handful of seeds into life, then harvest and store and eat that; you know where this food has been. You know the food's story and it's been interlaced with your own story to the point where it's no longer something you consume, you have memories with that food. It means something to you. And, it's way, WAY harder to throw it away. You do not waste what you build up from scratch.

I've also been venturing into other self-sustaining missions, like, cleaning products and preserving resources as you would in nature, figuring out hygiene without capitalism, and this is where my life got weird. If I wanna wash my hair, I go and make tea, then wash my hair in that. Funny snippet, lemon balm tea actually darkens your hair the more you use it, people in my life now legit think my hair is black, it's not! It's brown but the herb made it so dark nobody can tell. I've since found out there are also herbs that make your hair lighter, or even give it a blue-ish glow! That is way fun. Washing hair like this is a more effort than shampoo, but I feel different about it. Proud I did that, or just happy I never have to buy a shampoo maybe.

If I wanna do laundry I'll go and cut open some conkers, since I still have a bag of unprocessed ones and they work as a detergent. If I wanna clean something I use vinegar I infused with orange peel, it smells amazing. If I need to go to the bathroom I'll skip on toilet paper and use family cloth. Now what is that? I actually heard someone on youtube say that word and researched it and found out that before toilet paper, people used rectangular strips of white cloth, to clean themselves, and they were all washed so it was reusable and wasted no resources since you could cut any old cotton shirt into strips and use it. Now a lot of people react with 'ewww' but hear me out: you don't use it for number two unless you have a washing liquid to immediately throw it into (I don't), and, do you throw away any underwear that you've used just once? They get about as filthy as that and then you put them thru boil cycle in the washing machine, they take so little space inside it's forgettable, and you can use them forever. I actually only had to buy toilet paper once, this entire year. 10/10. Also, extremely comfy and soft to use. If anyone wondered.

I also cook my food in weird ways, mostly having it wrapped in towels instead on a stove top, I rarely heat any bathroom water and either use cold or I also discovered I love heating a pot of water and just spilling it over myself instead of showering, it feels so good! It's so gentle and pleasant, showers are agressive and mean in comparison, it's like they hate you and are trying to spray you away. Water gently spilling from a pot on your body loves you and wants you to be happy and experience pleasure and love.

So I'm not trying to brag too much here but I haven't visited a grocery store in two months (figured out how to buy flour directly from the company lol) and maybe visited them 7 times this year altogether, isn't that kinda wild? And yes I'm giving myself a little star for good pandemic behaviour. I earned that. I just seem to not need stuff anymore unless they're oil and flour and maybe some salt and sugar. And it wasn't ... that hard. I mean okay, poverty and general anxiety are fueling my behaviour for sure, but it feels very much like... it's not that impossible to do without stuff, if you're crazy stubborn and don't have many alternatives.

I've also been prepairing for this life in a savage hermit hoarder type of matter; I've collected jars obsessively, stored every little produce net or bag that anyone brought to my place, I collect dumb promotional newspapers to start fires with in the future, and I can make baskets out of it, I stored every plastic cup or container ever because I can grow seedlings in those, I collected all seeds in any way available to me, I don't throw away any fabric anymore bc I can sew new things, any soft and spongy textured thing is stored to make seating space on future chairs and cushions, and I value every bit of knowledge coming my way only in regard to how it could help me survive.

I haven't figured out the medicinal side of this, or the social aspect, but at this point it feels very wrong for me to be in a city, renting out an apartment, and then living half like a little savage on the side and refusing to go to the store. I should be in my little cob house dammit, and cooking in my cauldron on top of a fire. I should be bathing in rainwater and have plants on every surface of my home. I should have soil available to grow all my food. And optimally have a big swing and a tree house and an obstacle course in the forest. I wanna drink water that I discovered in a spring or collected from rain and filtered with the coal I made. I wanna know how earthen floors feel under my bare feet.

So anyways, how many of you'd wanna join a tribe where we live in cob houses and tell stories around a fire and change our hair color with tea and presumably spill water over each other because hygiene is important? Also we never shave or care abt how our faces look and we shed the light onto downfall of capitalsm because I feel like, if we all (the population) just bought flour, oil sugar and salt, a lot of things would go down super fast.

[sxvxrxssnape]

Small Mercies In Poisoned Teacups

Snapetober 2020: Day 3 - Torture a much softer take at the prompt

"Explain yourself."

"I, I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

Severus closed his eyes. He dug two fingers into his temple, trying to ward off the headache that was sure to come if he had to continue this conversation for any longer. He took a quiet deep breath and reminded himself that he couldn't accuse Potter of stealing from him without any real proof. 

"You were the last one out of the classroom." Severus finally spoke, opening his eyes and staring at the green-eyed Gryffindor in front of him. 

"Is that a crime?" 

Severus scowled. "Specifically, you were coming out of my potion stores when I reentered my classroom, Potter."

Potter didn't say anything, merely looked defiant. Fifth year potions had just ended and Severus had been distracted at the door by a question from one of his Slytherins and when he'd turned around to ensure the room was empty so he could lock up, he spotted the fifteen year old slipping out of the supply cabinet. He didn't bother to take stock, he knew whatever the brat had taken would be small enough to miss; he wouldn't make the same mistakes he had during second year, when he had stolen a noticeable amount of supplies to brew polyjuice in secret. 

Instead, he had cornered the boy before he could leave the dungeons corridor altogether. 

"I didn't take anything, if that's what you're accusing me off." Potter muttered, gripping his bag a little too tightly. 

"No?" Severus asked gently, completely derailing Potter's defensiveness with his sudden softness. He wanted answers and he knew just how to get them. "Come with me, Potter."

He led the boy back towards the classroom, back into the potions store. He gestured around the shelves lined with unlabeled phials and jars, at the collection of ingredients. 

"I suppose I should be impressed if you had managed to steal from me." Severus mused, watching him carefully. "I would be surprised if you paid enough attention to know what half of these potions even are, let alone what they do. I don't label, you see, to dissuade halfwitted children from stealing from me.  The half that do understand are usually intelligent enough to just ask. It's a pity you aren't."

"I didn't think you'd have much sympathy for me, sir." Potter muttered darkly, his voice so quiet Severus wasn't sure it was meant to be audible. Harry was staring intently at a small collection of glass bottles with mismatched labels half-scrubbed away. 

"What makes you say that?" Severus asked, keeping his voice flat and neutral. He probably wouldn't have much sympathy truthfully, didn't have much to spare with everything he had to take care of this year. Still, as he stared at the bottles filled with Essence of Dittany, a strange sort of cold feeling washed over him. It was probably nothing - children get hurt all the time. It was the preference to steal than go to the hospital wing that forced his uneasiness. 

Harry shrugged. 

"What, pray tell, do you need the Essence of Dittany for?" Severus finally asked, masking the uneasiness with annoyance. He noticed the boy flinch in response. "Were you so arrogant to think I wouldn't figure it out? Mr. Potter, your tells are so obvious, you wouldn't fool a lemming." 

He muttered under his breath. 

"Speak up, Potter."

"I cut my hand, is all." Harry repeated and the angry defiance in his tone had returned. 

Severus held back a sigh and led them out of the storage room. He pointed to a chair and waited until the boy had sat down until he spoke. "Then why not just go to the infirmary? Surely a boy of your status would prefer to bask in the attention of Madame Pomfrey than myself?" 

"It's really not worth going to the infirmary over."

"Then why steal in the first place?"

Harry scowled. "Madame Pomfrey would make too big of a deal out of it and it would only make things worse. I can handle it on my own, thanks."

"Handle what?" Severus was only growing more puzzled, but he wouldn't let that derail him. He could tell something was absolutely wrong with the situation in front of him and he was determined to figure it out before he punished the boy for having the audacity to steal from him yet again. 

He remained silent. 

"Don't make me threaten you with veritaserum."

"How original." Harry scowled and then paused. He looked up at the potions master with curiosity. "Actually sir, I do have a question: how difficult is it to get your hands on veritaserum?" 

"Quite." Severus answered, studying him carefully. "It's regulated by the Ministry. Unless you know how to make it, of course, but it's also difficult to brew."

Harry nodded. "So if a professor were to use it on their students, they would have to get it from the Ministry….or you?" 

"What are you getting at, Potter."

"Nothing really."

"The Ministry would never sanction the distribution of veritaserum to a professor. Any potion they are in possession of and wish to use, can only be used within a courtroom." Severus decided to answer, inferencing the reason for the question. "If a wizard - professor or not - wanted it for petty use, they would have to contact a willing potioneer for it."

"I suppose any teacher here could just ask you for it, then.”

"They could. They would also have to trust that the veritaserum they were given wasn't just a phial of distilled water, wouldn't they?" Severus asked indifferently. 

Harry's eyes widened the tiniest bit, but he didn't say anything.. Good. There was plausible deniability that way; he had never outright said he'd given Dolores fake veritaserum when she had banged his office door open last week, but who's to say what really happened?

He eyed Harry carefully and figured they had built enough of a rapport to continue. "Essence of Dittany." he reminded the boy. 

"I told you, I just cut my hand."

"Let me see, then." Severus directed as snippets of memory from past years rose up. His job of keeping the boy alive was made unnecessarily difficult by his insistence of constantly getting into trouble. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if "just a cut" meant "I lost a limb" for the boy. 

Again, Harry scowled, but this time he pulled back the sleeve of his robe and presented the back of his hand to Severus. 

He blinked.

The back of Potter's hand was red and slightly swollen, streaked with wet crimson from where the fabric of his sleeve had been dragged over the still bleeding corners of the words carved into the skin. The cuts were deep and angry-looking and sure to scar over.

I must not tell lies. 

He reached a tentative hand, acutely aware of the flinch he received, and studied the wound closer. It was days old, but it was also fresh at the same time. 

"Essence of Dittany was a good choice." he finally spoke up. 

"It was Hermione's idea."

Severus nodded, trying to keep his composure but he could feel the anger coiling in his stomach. He could also feel the hum of Dark magic radiating from the wound. Simple healing spells would be useless here, but he doubted Miss Granger hadn't already tried that before suggesting the Dittany. "How did this happen?" he asked needlessly. 

He knew the work of a blood quill when he saw it.

Harry took his hand back, pulled the sleeve down until the ugly words were hidden from sight again. "Umbridge had me do lines for my detention," he shrugged casually, as if admitting to a professor torturing him was no big deal, "and she insisted I use a special quill of hers."

Severus' lips thinned. "And you told no one."

"I just told you.”

This time, he couldn't hold back the sigh of exasperation. "How long has this been going on?" 

"Three days now." Harry answered. "I have her again tonight. I can handle it."

The anger was only increasing. “You shouldn’t have to handle it.” he gritted out. “You understand this is beyond unacceptable? This isn’t punishment, Potter, it’s torture.” He forced a breath. “Go, go to, to wherever you’re supposed to be right now.” He paused. “You have detention with me tonight now, conveniently at the same time you’re supposed to be meeting with Umbridge.”

“Oh, uh, yes sir.”

“Leave.”

He managed to keep himself composed just long enough for the Gryffindor to flee out of the room. He left the classroom as well and entered his private lab, seething. He would have to tell Minerva of this development, Dumbledore as well, but that could wait for a few hours. First, he needed to calm down before they accused him of caring for the brat. 

He was only taking his duty at ensuring the safety and wellbeing of his students seriously. It just happened to include Potter directly, this time, but isn’t that what he’s been doing since day one? So maybe he had gotten the brat out of Dolores’ inhumane detention for the night and maybe now he was distraction brewing while he thought all of the deadly potions he wished he could slip into her morning cup of tea. 

That didn’t mean anything.

It also didn’t mean anything that he summoned a house elf when he finished the nonlethal amber brew and handed over the indistinct vial. It didn’t mean anything at all if it happened to slip into Dolores’ teapot the next morning.

Besides, it wouldn’t kill her. 

Unlike her, he had some sense of ethics. If it kept her too sick to leave the hospital wing for the week that followed, well, what were small mercies for students he didn’t care for. 

---

A/N: the original piece for day 3 felt better suited for a different prompt day so i wrote this instead (late yes) and took a lot of creative liberty with the prompt bc i didnt want to write it, i wanted to write snape & harry interacting :(

also trying to fit entire stories in a singular scene is weird and HARD. i need to write the whole thing and thats why every take ive had an these prompts get scrapped bc i realize i cant write it without devoting like a week to it

[kaaytea]

Nekoma's signature scents 😺

A/n: I started school today, it was so rough 😔 I had a lot of fun with the Karasuno version, so I had to write a version for my faves

----------------------------------------------------------

Kuroo Tetsuro

Very generic men's shampoo smell

It's sTRONG TOO

Probably uses Irish spring

Doesn't know what he's doing when it comes to fragrance in highschool

Now timeskip Kuroo? That's a different story 👀

Kai Nobuyuki

NATURAL SCENTS NATURAL SCENTS NATURAL SCENTS NATURA-

I'm thinking rosemary

OOOH AND BASIL!!

Very light nothing too strong

Not saying he would be into essential oils but like- 👀👀

Yaku Morisuke

I feel like Yaku is a very clean person so I definitely think he would smell vaguely of hand sanitizer

Like he 100% has one of the lil things from bath and body works that you can clip on to bags yes he keeps it on his gym bag, you never know when you're gonna need it when it comes to Nekoma

Amazing, love a man who's clean 🙌

Ok but tell me why what came to mind was honey? Like is that just me linking his hair color to his vibe??

Idk I'm gonna roll with it, Mori smells like honey

Kozume Kenma

Ah yes our favorite gamer boy ™

Honestly don't think he really has a scent??

To me he uses soap without fragrance bc I feel like he would be very sensitive to smells

Probably doesn't wash his hair as often as he should so it's like a even mix of his natural scent and the strawberry shampoo he uses

Don't worry he doesn't smell nasty, he has fairly good hygiene, but washing your hair evEryday is such a hassle, plus he only showers at night and likes to limit the times he has to sleep with wet hair bc having a damp pillow is no fun

Fukunaga Shohei

SPICED APPLES!! LIKE IM TALKING FULL AUTUMN VIBES BBY!!

Cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, all spice- he is the embodiment of fall

The apple scent isn't v v sweet either, like it's there but not THERE

Very fresh, very pleasant, very good, I love Fukunaga ✌️

Yamamoto Taketora

I kinda love the idea that Tora uses his sister's shampoo bc he couldn't be bothered to buy his own

The shampoo is vanilla sugar scented 😌

The mix of fragrances he uses could give you whiplash tho

His hair is like, vanilla sugar 🌟✨🥺

But then his deodorant is like, musky💪🔥 woods 💯

Yeah, but somehow it kinda works? Like the blend isn't the worse thing in the world

Inuoka so

A Citrus-y boy!

I'm getting strong grapefruit vibes from him

Maybe lime as well

He has a lot of energy so his fragrance has to match

Haiba Lev

Baby powder and kids soap

I've always loved the HC that the Haiba's are rich as fuck so I'm thinking some fancy cologne

Don't worry Lev didn't buy it, baby doesn't know the first thing when it comes to fragrance shopping

Luckily Alisa takes care of her Levochka 😌

I'm thinking like spiced orange~

Like nutmeg with a hint of citrus

Shibayama Yuki

Fabric softener

Just very soft

He smells like how a warm blanket fresh from the dryer feels

When I tell you he has the sOFTEST HaiR!! AND IT SMELLS AMAZING?!

Has Jasmine scented hand cream with him at all times bc he hates how rough his hands feel from playing vball all day

Teshiro Tamahiko

I don't know much about this baby so bear with me

He's giving me spicy vibes~

I'm thinking ginger?

Cinnamon is also a valid answer

Cologne scares him so he just sticks to deodorant

[httpjeon]

❝ collateral damage ❞ pjm ― m.

― summary: you’re a simple bank teller and you certainly didn’t expect to be taken as collateral for outlaw bank-robber park jimin.

outlaw!jimin/reader ― ft. jungkook & taehyung | wild west!au | fluff, smut | 5.2k ↬ content warnings: basically pwp. kidnapping, guns, old timey bank robbery, referenced off screen murders (non-explicit), yoongi gets choked a bit, light thigh riding, sexual punishment, cunnilingus, dirty talk, light sir!kink, blow job, hair pulling, vague pain kink, pet names

a/n: this fic is part of the under fire collaboration for the summer smut project by @btssmutclub! be sure to check out the other writers’ fics for this collab! > disclaimer: i’d like to point out there is no real violence towards the reader in any capacity in this fic. she remains safe and unharmed throughout the fic, just spooked bc of jimin’s reputation as an outlaw and crimes!

→ blog masterlist      →collab masterlist

You huffed, covering your eyes with your hand like a visor as you stared out in the blistering heat of your city. It was hot enough to cook an egg out, no doubt.

It was a peaceful, small town that you had lived in your whole life. Everyone knew everyone and there was rarely a problem that arose.

"Mornin' _____!" The local mercantile owner, Yoongi, beamed at you.

The two of you had become good friends as your job at the bank was located right next door to the mercantile his family owned. Often, he would bring you little snacks during work and you frequently picked up your groceries and essentials from him.

"You hear they've up and found some gold nearby? I expect we'll start to get a lot busier now!" He smiled, mindlessly sweeping the front steps of his store.

"Oh really?" You hummed. "I haven't heard much. But with tons of towns popping up everywhere with the gold and silver bein' found, I guess it's hard to keep track. I didn't think there'd be some nearby here though!"

"Why? You wanna go and search for some gold?" Yoongi snickered.

"As if," You chuckled. "I'm doing well enough here, I don't need to risk my life for the sake of greed.”

"If you say so," He teased, finally turning and heading back into the store with a casual wave of his hand.

You sighed, wiping the sweat off your brow before turning on your heel to get back to work.

After that, it seemed Yoongi's prediction was right. You had people coming in, asking for loans and coming in to exchange their gold and silver for cash money.

Unfortunately, the peaceful reputation in your little town wouldn't stay that way for long.

Another terribly hot day that had you heaving against your desk — hoping the wood would somehow cool you down. The doors opened and several footsteps entered, making you look up.

"Hey there, sweetheart," A pretty-faced young man leaned against the counter.

"Welcome, how can I help you?" You asked, smiling up at him.

He had black hair that stuck to his forehead from sweat, a wide-brimmed hat on his head to shield his eyes from the sun.

He was good looking, no doubt about it.

Behind him stood two other men near the door, as if guarding it, and a feeling of unease began to wash over you.

"I'm awfully sorry about this but," You gasped as he pulled out long-barrelled gun, pointing it directly at you. "How about you hand me that little box back there and give me all the money you got, sweetheart?"

"I..." You trembled underneath the weight of his glare and the gun.

"Hurry it along, darlin' we ain't got all day," One of the other men called, his hand on his gun which sat in its holster.

"A-Alright...just hold your horses," You grumbled, grabbing the box and placing it down for the man. He chuckled, lowering his gun as you finally opened the box for him to take the money from.

He eagerly stuffed fistfuls of cash into his pockets with a grin on his face. You thought you were in the clear, breathing a sigh of relief as he began to back off, showing no intentions of actually hurting you.

That is, until the door opened and Yoongi walked in with a smile.

"Hey ____—" He was cut off by one of the men aggressively grabbing him, wrapping their arms around his neck to choke him as he slammed your friend harshly against the wall.

"Don't hurt him!" You cried, rounding the counter to try and come to your friend's aid.

Unfortunately, the man who took the money grabbed you, holding the gun to your temple making you cry out in fear and shock.

"Now, you're gonna behave mister and let us leave in peace alright?" He hissed. You met Yoongi's eyes, noticing how red his face became with the lack of oxygen. "And we're gonna take this here girl as collateral. We're gonna get out of here and get nice and far, and if we make it out safely...we'll let her go."

"Y-You can't..." Yoongi choked out, no doubt worrying for your well-being.

None of the men seemed to listen. Yoongi was released, falling to the floor with a heavy thud as he gasped for air. He was too weak to do anything to stop you from being dragged out.

“Remember,” One of the other men mumbled to Yoongi, bringing his finger to his lips in a shush motion. “Not a peep.” 

The streets were bustling more than usual, on account of all the traffic picking up lately, and you were easily manhandled onto the horse tied out front of the bank. Jimin hopped on behind you, his spicy scent permeating around you. You were sitting sideways on the horse in front of him, boxed in by his arms as he held the reigns.

"This is...crazy," You grumbled as the man kicked the horse, making you jerk forward in surprise. Glancing over the man's shoulder, you could see his two lackeys following.

"Sorry about this, we planned just a clean ol' robbin' but..." The man shrugged, trailing off before clearing his throat and looking down his nose at you. "What's your name anyway?"

"Why should I tell you?" You grumbled, wondering why you were acting like a brat to the man who literally had a gun pointed at you moments before.

"Well I'm Jimin...Park Jimin,"

Immediately, your body stiffened as a shiver of fear raced down your spine. You knew that name. His wanted posters were posted all across town, all across the state no doubt.

He was an outlaw wanted in several states for various crimes — mostly robbing banks and trains. He even had a few murders under his belt.

Okay, so he could kill you at the drop of a hat. Maybe you should be on his good side and not piss him off.

"M-My name is _____," You stuttered out, suddenly very aware of how you were hanging onto the fabric of his plaid shirt in order to keep yourself stable.

"Well, nice to meet you, _____. I hope we can get along well," He smiled, a rather cute eye smile for a wanted outlaw.

Why did your abductor have to be cute?

Still, with the memory of the cold steel of his gun pressed against you, you had no hope of escape anyway. You could jump off the horse but that would no doubt seriously injure you at the speed you were going. Plus, he'd probably turn around, angry, and shoot you in the end anyway.

You sighed, making him chuckle against your back.

"Now, now sweetheart it ain't that bad," He said. "Ain't nothin' bad gonna happen to you with us, I promise. We'll just keep you around until the heat dies down and we'll send you on home.”

"Unless you want to stay~" One of his companions said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"Jungkook," Jimin scoffed, shaking his head but still smiling.

"Unbelievable," You whispered, noticing that you were beginning to slow down.

Looking around for the reason, you saw a little shack up ahead. It was out in the middle of nowhere, way off the beaten path, and you doubted you'd be able to find your way back to town because you had no clue where you were. Not like you were exactly paying attention to the route anyway. You didn't exactly frequent the outskirts of town, the desert was no place for someone like you — with the snakes and coyotes roaming about. You weren't very fond of the idea of being a wild animal’s snack.

Finally you came to a full stop and Jimin hopped down from the horse, holding his hand out for you. When you hesitated on it, he sent you a small glare that had you reaching down for him to help you. He kept his grip on your arm as he began to walk towards the house...or shack.

"Taehyung, you hitch the horses up, alright?" Jimin called over his shoulder, a short 'yeah' from one of the men came in reply.

You were tugged inside, which you were grateful for because the summer sun was literally 2 minutes from actually killing you. It was still hot inside but at least you were out of the sun.

The place was scarcely furnished — a worn couch, a little coffee table, and a couple sleeping mats. There were also some metal bowls sitting on the counter of the tiny kitchen.

"Have a seat, sweetheart, make yourself at home," His voice was soft but held a tone of authority that made a shiver travel up your spine. You were always weak to voices — that's why you liked to hear Yoongi talk so much.

At the thought of your friend, you frowned. You hoped he was okay and safe. Jimin dropped down in the empty seat beside you on the couch and pulled out a flask, handing it to you.

"Drink?"

Your eyes narrowed. "I don't drink."

"It's just water, darlin'," He said with a shrug, urging the flask towards you. "I know you gotta be thirsty bein' out in the heat."

"This isn't a trick?" You asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I promise it's just water," His voice and face turned serious as he said the words.

Sighing, you took the flask from him and turned it up — immediately you felt refreshed by the cool water. Taking a few mouth sips, you handed it back to him and thanked him which earned you a smile.

The door slammed open and the other two men came stomping in with groans about how the heat was killer. The one named Jungkook swiped some sweat off his brow before dropping to sit on the floor with a thud. The other, Taehyung, followed suit except sprawled out across the floor like a starfish.

"That floor can't be clean," You muttered, making Taehyung open on eye to peek at you.

"You worried about my health, honey?" He asked, a smirk gracing his lips when you narrowed your eyes in a glare.

"I'll have you know I can that floor meticulously every day," Jimin piped from beside you, taking another sip of water.

"Why do I find that hard to believe?" You shot back, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed the dusty, dirty, scuffed floor the two men were laying upon.

"Why on Earth would I lie to you?" Jimin asked, raising a brow.

"Do you want the honest answer?" As soon as the words left your lips, Jungkook began chuckling from where he was leaning against the wall.

"Aw man, she's cute and funny," He muttered through his giggles. You felt your face flush at that, making you feel even hotter than you already were.

"Alright boys," Jimin stood up. "We should start getting ready for the night."

You remained seated, watching as the men began to bustle about. Jimin was in the kitchen cooking dinner, you assumed — which was weirdly domestic thinking about it. Jungkook went out to collect water and Taehyung was setting up the beds for the night.

"I guess you can sleep on the couch," He said when he noticed you watching.

"I can't believe this..." You grumbled, flopping back onto the couch with a sigh.

"Oh we're not that bad!" Taehyung pouted as he took a seat behind the small table in front of the couch.

You didn't offer a reply, only sighed.

The rest of the night wasn't anywhere near as bad as you expected. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook laughed and joked with one another as they chatted. You ate some soup, which in the heat was torture, but it tasted good nonetheless and it felt good to have some food in your stomach. 

You were restless as you laid down on the couch that night. You could hear the even breaths coming from the three men scattered on the floor. It was strategic, how they were laying. Jungkook was sleeping right in front of the door so you wouldn't be able to get out. Jimin was sleeping right in front of the couch so you couldn't move without him knowing. And Taehyung was in between as an interception if you were to attempt to run away.

You were positive it was the worst night of sleep in your life when your eyes fluttered open, still heavy and stinging with exhaustion. Jungkook and Taehyung were gone and Jimin was sitting at the table cleaning his gun. He looked up when you sat up and smiled.

"Good mornin' sunshine," He grinned when you groaned in response. "What's the matter? Didn't sleep well?"

"I miss my own bed," You complained.

"Well that's just too bad," He sighed, placing his gun down. "We're keepin' our hands on you for awhile longer."

"This isn't fair!" You snapped, stomping your foot on the ground. "You stole the money, I don't want any part of this! I just want to go home!"

In the blink of an eye, Jimin was in your face, nose brushing up against yours as he glared.

"Better watch your tone, pretty girl," He growled, making your heart stutter in your chest.

Then as quick as he was there, he was standing and moving into the kitchen. You placed a hand against your chest and sighed while his back was turned to you. Your cheeks felt hot and you silently cursed him for being so damn attractive.

The longer you spent with Jimin, the more you began to see he wasn’t scary at all. He attempted to put up a front when he caught himself slipping but in the end, his true personality began to shine through.

“Jimin?” You asked one night while Taehyung and Jungkook were out. He hummed, looking up from where he was shining his boot. “Why did you become an outlaw?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “What kinda question is that?”

“The normal kind?” You shot back, raising a brow.

“Well,” He cleared his throat. “Sometimes people do what they have to do to get by. I discovered a knack for thievin’ and I stuck to it. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that,” You scoffed, making him look at you with a frown. “There’s lots of things you could have done instead of stealing.”

“My decisions in life don’t concern you, little girl,” He snapped, making you flinch. His eyes were alight with anger at your words and you immediately quieted down.

He continued to glare at you for a minute, as if wanting to say something more, until the door opened and Taehyung and Jungkook came back in. Jungkook dropped onto the couch beside you and stretched his arms above his head until his joints popped.

"We're going to bed," Jimin snapped suddenly, making the other two look at him in shock.

"It's still early though!" Taehyung complained.

"You'll do as I say!" Jimin shouted, making everyone collectively jump at the volume.

Immediately the two scrambled to get into their sleeping arrangements. You sat on the couch, avoiding Jimin's gaze as he continued to glare at you as he placed his boots beside the couch.

No one uttered a word as Jimin turned the lamp out — casting the room in complete darkness save for the moon's light.

With a sigh, you collapsed onto your side and shut your eyes in an attempt to get some sleep as well.

"Wake up," Jimin uttered, shaking your shoulder until your eyes popped open in surprise. "Need you to go collect the water pails from outside. Taehyung and Jungkook ran off without bringin' them in."

You sighed as you sat up, blinking sleepily until you felt coherent enough to stand. Jimin was silent as he followed you out, watching you leave the house before turning back to sit on the couch and kick his boots off.

By the time you got inside, placing the water buckets down, Jimin was fast asleep on the couch with his mouth open. You stood and watched him for a second, eyeing the open door.

No one was watching and you could make a run for it. If you were quiet, Jimin wouldn't even wake up.

You squinted at him, feeling quite petulant over the problems he had caused you with literally kidnapping you and making your heart stutter in your chest over his stupidly handsome face. Sneaking out of the doorway, you tiptoed around the brush against the side of the building.

A sneaky grin crawled over your face as you heard the tell-tale signs of a snake warning you to stay away.

You dropped onto your knees and circled the creature until you got behind it. Reaching out with a steady hand, you quickly pinned its head and took hold of it to keep it from turning and biting you.

Then with a stealthiness that surprised even you, you snuck back inside and ever so easily dropped the snake into Jimin's boot.

Standing up straight and casting one last glance at Jimin, you turned and booked it out of the door.

The sun was still beating down, the summer heat making you break out into a sweat immediately. Your feet pounded against the ground with every step you took and you were quickly panting and running out of stamina — the heat literally sucking everything out of you.

You could have cried when you saw Taehyung and Jungkook riding up on their horses. There was no hope to escape; they'd already spotted you and you couldn't outrun their horses.

With a resigned sigh, you stood there and glared until Taehyung stopped beside you. He stared down with a brow raised.

"That was a close one, huh?" Jungkook uttered, saddling up on the other side of you.

"Hop on, don't be a pain," Taehyung muttered, though he sounded more bored than angry with your attempted escape.

You heaved a big sigh as you mounted Taehyung's horse, holding onto the back of his shirt as they rode back the short distance to the house. You could see Jimin was still asleep on the couch through the open door.

Jungkook was snickering as he hopped off his horse. He lifted his hand and helped you down off of Taehyung's and began to lead you inside the house, still holding your hand.

"Hey Jimin!" He shouted, taking both you and Jimin by surprise.

"What?!" Jimin shrieked as he sat up so fast it made your head spin.

"Almost had this one run out while you were gettin’ your beauty sleep," Taehyung muttered as he finally walked in, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

Jimin growled as he stood up, shoving his feet into his boots "This is—SHIT!"

"What?" Taehyung and Jungkook cried at the same time, watching as Jimin kicked his boot off, making it fly across the room and hit the wall.

The four of you watched as the poor snake slithered out of the boot and disappeared around the corner to the kitchen.

"There was a snake in my boot," Jimin muttered, glaring at his boot.

There was a beat of silence before Taehyung and Jungkook physically doubled over as they howled with laughter. You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you watched Jimin's bottom lip poke out in a pout.

After you all finished eating dinner, a rabbit Jungkook had caught earlier in the day, they decided to set back out once again.

"I heard that the law was starting to extend its search for us, turns out word’s gotten out we’re around the area, so I think it'd be a good idea to make sure there aren't any nosy people driftin' around," Taehyung said as he and Jungkook mounted their horses.

Jungkook slipped his hat on his head and gave you a little wave before taking the reins of his horse and following after Taehyung. You stood and watched, feeling Jimin's eyes on you, as the two vanished into the darkness.

"You know," Jimin said from his seat on the couch, voice a few octaves lower. "I don't really appreciate you making a fool of me today."

You felt a shiver go down your spine at the way he spoke, words full of unspoken promise. You could hear his boots against the floor as he walked up behind you, breath fanning over your neck. He swiftly pushed the door shut and turned you around, slamming your back against its surface.

You gasped, meeting his dark gaze, goosebumps rising over your skin at the look in his eyes; dark and lustful. Never before had you felt so drawn to a man — he was dangerous, charismatic, and so attractive that it almost made you crazy.

His plush, full lips met yours in a kiss that started off heated immediately, not wasting any time showing you what he wanted. You whimpered, reaching up to fist his dark locks and pull his body even closer to yours.

His hands became busy immediately, reaching behind you to pull free the buttons of your dress, the fabric pooling on the floor around your feet.

"So pretty," He whispered, gripping your waist and grinding his hard length, hidden in his jeans, against your hip.

You gasped, tightening your hold in his hair. Before you could deepen the kiss further, he was pulling away and pressing his lips against your neck. You moaned, tilting your head back to allow him more access. He reached up, cupping your bare breasts in his warm, callused hands and you whimpered — the rough drag of his palms against your sensitive nipples making your knees buckle.

He chuckled, working his thigh between your legs — your weight falling on his thigh to keep you upright. His jeans ground against your clothed heat as he continued to palm your breasts.

Tilting your head back against the door, he dipped his head down to take one of your perked, hardened nipples into the heat of his mouth. Holding back a whimper, your clung onto the back of his shirt as his tongue flicked the bud.

With his free hand, he gripped your hip and began to move you to grind against the firm muscle of his thigh.

"J-Jimin—" You whispered, eyes rolling slightly at the pressure against your clit. He pulled his mouth away from your breast and licked his lips, sharp eyes cutting up to look at your blissed expression.

"I think you should be punished, you know?" He asked, teasing tone apparent. "For trying to run away and for that mean prank you pulled."

"N-No...don't punish me," You whimpered, beginning to desperately grind against his thigh.

"Oh? You don't want to be punished?" He asked, straightening his back. The added height made him look more intimidating, especially with the way his sharp eyes were filled with hunger.

"No please," You whimpered, licking your lips as your core throbbed with need at the dominant energy he gave off.

"Then I think you owe me an apology," He whispered, lips moving to brush against yours.

"I-I'm sorry, Jimin," You gasped.

"Sorry for what?" He urged, tongue sneaking out to run over your swollen bottom lip — plump from biting it.

"F-For trying to run away a-and putting the snake in your boot," You whimpered, nearly sobbing when he sharply pinched your nipple.

He hummed, rolling the bud between his fingers. “Apology not accepted.” 

“What—!” You were cut off by him aggressively shoving you to your knees. 

“How about you really show me you're sorry,” Your arguments were cut off when he pulled his cock free from the confines of his jeans. 

Unable to help yourself, you leaned forward and enveloped the head of his cock between your lips. He hissed at the sudden contact, your tongue catching the precum beading at the tip. It was a little salty and slightly bitter but with the way his thighs trembled the deeper your took him, you could ignore the taste. 

His fist tangled in your hair and his head rolled back as he began to shallowly thrust his hips. He pressed against your gag-reflex and you pulled back with a cough. 

“You've got a sweet little mouth, you know?” He smirked, wrapping his fist around his cock and spreading the mixed saliva and precum along his shaft. 

You blushed, opening your mouth for him to slip his cock back inside. He groaned, eyes fluttering closed as you eagerly began to suck his cock. His grip in your hair tightened and the tinge of pain had you gushing into your panties. You whimpered around him, clenching your thighs together to hopefully ease the pressure forming between your legs. 

“Stand up,” He groaned, shuddering at the way you whined when his cock fell from your lips. 

Before you knew it, you were being pushed onto the couch, your ass in the air as he pulled your panties off. A string of wetness clung to the material as he pulled it from your legs. He groaned, catching it with his fingers and popping the digits in his mouth. 

“So sweet,” He growled, falling to his knees. 

He pulled your folds apart, exposing your clenching entrance to his hungry eyes. His cock throbbed when you gushed — sweet, creaming juices from your entrance. Unable to help himself, he leaned forward and slid his tongue over the expanse of your pussy. He could have came right then and there at the obscene cry of pleasure you emitted at the feeling of his tongue swiping over your clit. 

He chuckled, taking the swollen bud between his lips and circling his tongue over it until you were clawing at the couch beneath you. It was too much, your inexperienced body trembling at the overwhelming pleasure on your sensitive clit. 

“J-Jimin…” You whimpered, eyes rolling as you mindlessly ground your hips against his tongue. 

The introduction of his fingers had you letting out a long, drawn out moan as he sunk the digits into your spasming cunt. 

“Shit, you're tight,” He muttered swirling his tongue over your clit as he pulled his fingers back out, scraping over your g-spot in a way that made you sob. 

You cried out his name again, the only thing you could think of as the coil tightened in your stomach— winding up until your whole body was locked up. 

With a well-timed thrust of his fingers as his tongue circled your clit, you came. 

He worked you through it, wrapping his free hand around his cock to keep himself from cumming untouched at the incredible display of you cumming for him. Before long, your whines turned into those of overstimulation and he pulled back, getting to his feet. 

“Are you ready now?” He asked, nearly groaning as you arched your back for him — your swollen, gushing folds making him want to dive back down for another taste. 

“Yes sir, please,” He growled at the title and eagerly began to push into your tight entrance. 

The two of you cried out in unison at the feeling — him stretching you deliciously and the hot tightness of your walls enclosing around him. You were wet enough for him to easily sink in completely. 

“Look at you,” He chuckled, pulling back to quickly push back in. “What would your friends say if they knew you were letting a wanted criminal fuck your little cunt?” 

Your walls clenched at the idea and he chuckled, picking up his pace. He nailed your g-spot perfectly and you buried your face into the couch cushion to muffle the complete sobs of pleasure. He growled, not appreciating you attempting to quiet yourself, and wrapped your hair around his fist and yanked up until you were on your knees only. 

The change in angle has him fucking against your spot even harsher, and your eyes rolled back at the feeling. It felt like you were losing your mind, losing yourself on his cock. You were soaking his member, gushing and dripping down your thighs. The sounds emitted every time he moved within your cunt were obscene and you would have been embarrassed if your mind wasn't completely fogged over with pleasure. 

“They'll be back soon,” He grumbled, reaching around to find your clit with experienced fingertips. “Better hurry up darlin’ or else they might come in and see you creaming all over my cock.” 

His filthy words paired with the deft circles over your bud sent you over the edge. He let your hair go and oh bonelessly fell back onto the couch, trembling through your high. 

Before you could even get through the aftershocks of your orgasm, Jimin pulled out and wrapped his fist around his cock — working himself to his own orgasm. Ropes of cum splattered over your ass and you sighed at the feeling, licking your lips as you wished you could taste it. 

As you both came down, he dropped onto the couch beside you and sighed. Running his fingers through your hair, he pulled the knots that formed, from his pulling, free. 

“Let's get you dressed,” He muttered, smiling when you whined as his warmth left you. 

You sat up and allowed him to help you dress back up — just in time for Jungkook and Taehyung to come barreling in. 

“We've gotta go,” Taehyung growled, grabbing Jimin's pack off the floor and tossing it to him. 

“W-Wait!” You gasped as Jimin grabbed your hand and pulled you off the couch. 

“You go with Jungkook, he'll drop you off closer to town so you can get home,” Jimin muttered, watching as Taehyung and Jungkook swept the area to make sure their belongings weren't being left behind. 

“Wh-Where are you going?” You asked. 

“Probably gonna head on to the next state, get away from the heat here,” Jimin grunted as he mounted his horse. 

“Take me with you!” You cried, wincing when three pairs of eyes were on you. “I...I want to stay with you, Jimin.”

“Shit, you got it bad,” He chuckled, narrowing his eyes at you. “Cute little girl wanting to come with the outlaw, huh?” 

“I…” You suddenly felt embarrassed, realizing he most likely didn't feel any real attachment to you like you felt. 

There was a beat of silence, Jungkook and Taehyung mounting their horses. 

“Hop on then, baby,” Jimin chuckled, holding his hand out. “We've got a long road ahead of us. I'm sure you'll enjoy it though.” 

You grinned, fighting the stinging tears of happiness in your eyes as you took his hand and let him help you onto the horse behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his back. 

With a swift kick to the side of his horse, the three of you were off. You turned and watched the little shack disappear from view in the darkness and you realized you didn't even feel sorry about your leaving. 

Maybe one day you'd see Yoongi again but deep down, you knew you were excited for the new adventure ahead.

© httpjeon 2019. do not modify or repost.

[orionwhispers]

Perfect Places // Steve Harrington

(A/N - yep. this isnt peaky, i know. im taking a little breather so i dont completely burn out writing tommy, but trust me i have 3 wips for him coming soon!! i dont know if any of you guys will like this bc its stranger things and thats ok!! i just had a blast writing it and i love steve and it really challenged me. pls let me know if u like it!! stay safe my loves xxx)

warnings - angst but also so much fluff your teeth will rot 

You felt like the moon was mocking you.

It loomed overhead, round and full and beautiful, the colour of purity and innocence, a beacon of light contrasting against the ink coloured sky. Your face was red hot, streaked with tears that dripped down your nose and collarbone and into your shirt, staining you with sadness that you could feel clawing under your skin.

You were sat on the Byers’ front porch, the sneakers you had once kept so pristinely clean were now caked in mud, your socks soaked through. You felt numb, you ached for something; a familiar lash of anger or heartache, anything to make you feel human again, but you just felt numb.

You could hear clattering from inside the house, low murmurs of voices and whispers tangling together, but you blocked them out like it was just white noise. The steady hum of those you loved and trusted brought some comfort, but that was instantly replaced by longing for the one person who deserved to be there, the person who deserved to still be alive.

You had been ecstatically high on adrenaline, you were terrified but vivacious as you helped bundle your boyfriend and the kids into Hoppers’ car as he raced past the Laboratory’s gates. You remembered the feeling of Steve’s hands around your waist as he pushed you into the back, flustered and protective, determined to get you away from any danger.

You should have said something.

You knew something was wrong, but you kept quiet. The air in the car was thick and dense like smoke, and Hopper was covered in crimson coloured splotches, you noticed the way he didn’t look at you, instead keeping his eyes focused on the road ahead. You should have said something, should have asked where your Uncle was, should have demanded an answer, but instead you pushed those thoughts away and watched the road through the windshield until your vision went blurry, Steve’s thumb soothingly rubbing over the top of your hand.

You knew he felt it too.

It was only when you reached the driveway of the Byers bungalow, feet moving on autopilot, tearing through the front door and seeing Joyce waiting for you, tears running down her face as she pulled you into her chest, did you realise the immensity of the situation. You let out a wail that could rival a demogorgon, sinking down into the coarse fabric of her hospital gown, her hands clambering across your frame, desperate to offer any comfort she could.

Steve was beside you in an instant, gripping your elbows to stop you falling onto your knees and onto the shag carpet, cradling you into him like a child. He felt so helpless, not knowing how to ease your pain, words getting stuck in his throat like cotton balls as he watched the girl he loved shatter into pieces. One look at his familiar face contorted in torment and it set you off again, coughing and spluttering like you were drowning in your tears. You pushed the consolatory hands off of you harder than you had intended, feeling suffocated and in desperate need of some form of relief. You were no good to anybody like this, you needed to wallow in your grief alone, Joyce had bigger problems and you refused to drag her down under with you.

You stumbled towards the front door, murmuring “I need some air.” You sank into the darkness like it was an old friend, wrapping your arms around yourself as your head throbbed and pulsed. You let the cold air hit your bare skin and fell to the ground, knees to your chest and silent screams leaving your throat.

Steve ran forward to be by your side, but Hopper pulled him back by the hood of his jacket, a large hand consoling your distraught boyfriend, “Let her go kid, give her a minute.”

He gave you five.

Watching the hands tick away meticulously on the clock above the fridge, he flexed his fingers and allowed the slow and steady noises to keep him grounded. He loathed the idea that you were outside alone, beautiful face covered in tears, heartbroken and shattered. Not only that but the knowledge that those things could be looming in the woods waiting to sink their teeth into you was driving him mad with paranoia. The only thing stopping him from pulling you inside where he could safely watch you was the unwavering concern that not letting you grieve would do more harm than good, so he settled for watching you through the window, hands clamped around his trusty bat - just in case.

————————————————————

You were sure you had run out of tears. Exhausted and dehydrated, you buried your head in the palm of your hands, desperate to stop the mind numbing pain at the back of your skull. The trees rustled gently, olive coloured leaves glinting under the stars. You wondered what could be lurking inside of the forest, but you were too drained to care.

You heard the door creak behind you, but relaxed at the familiar weight of Cortez’s against the soft wood.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost timid. Sounding so foreign coming from his mouth, so cautious and kind that it almost made you start crying all over again. He paused momentarily, before inhaling and sitting down beside you, his long legs awkwardly bent, his back starting to ache, but he couldn’t care less. You both sat in a comfortable silence for a minute, unsure how to break down the barrier that was forming between you. Your hazy eyes lingered on the T-shirt’s and sweaters dangling from the Boyce’s washing line, sleeves swaying with the movement of the wind, almost as if there was an invisible person dancing inside.

Steve was the first to break the silence. He usually was, his quick wit and smooth demeanour had been one of the reasons you had fallen for him in the first place, the only person you had ever met that could make you melt into a puddle and then cry with laughter with just a few sentences.

“How you holding up?” He faltered, picking angrily at a loose thread hanging from his denim jeans. “That was a stupid question, I’m sorry.”

You didn’t trust yourself to form words just yet, but you tilted your head as much as you could muster, communicating with your boyfriend in that nauseating way that only the both of you understood, except this time it felt sour instead of sickeningly sweet.

You crunched a stray leaf under your shoe, mulling over the sound as it tore under your heel. “It doesn’t feel real.” You muttered finally, biting your lower lip with your front teeth, letting the pain stop your tears. “I keep expecting to see his face, his stupid goofy grin.” You smiled gently, “I keep waiting for him to turn up and say it’s all a prank, but I know he won’t, he’s too kind for that.”

“He was the nicest person I’ve ever met.” Steve said truthfully, “He was a good guy.”

Was. Three words that swam around your head and tangled your stomach into knots and you choked on the thickness in your throat. The strangled groan was so heartbreaking that Steve wanted to tear apart the things that did this to you with his bare hands, but instead he pulled you closer with them, clasping you against his chest.

He let you cry, he let you ruin his t-shirt and cover him in your mascara and wet, hot tears. He would let you bawl into everything he owned, even his prized The Clash shirt or limited edition Charlies Angels sweater that was buried in the back of his wardrobe - he would give it all to you, to stain and rip and ruin, if it meant you had at least one moment of solace.

Under the beautiful navy sky littered with stars, Steve sighed, wishing he knew what to say. He wished that he was as articulate as Nancy, or as strong as Hopper, he’d even take being as soft spoken as Jonathon, if he knew it would make you feel better. But you hadn’t fallen in love with any of them, you had fallen in love with him and he was going to do everything in his power to try and make his girl hurt a little less. So he tried to distract you.

“Do you remember our first date?” He said, breaking the silence, his eyes focusing on the branches of a tree swaying in the distance.

He heard you sniffle, felt the rise of your head under the palm of his hands. If you were surprised by his question you didn’t show it. “How could I forget?”

He smiled, thinking back to the day, over two years ago. If he thought hard enough he could almost relive the gut twisting anxiety and the sweat pooling on the nape of his neck as he pulled up to your house. The two of you had been friends forever, bound since the day you both shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the playhouse in kindergarten. But you both started naturally drifting apart around the end of middle school, settling onto different paths as you grew up, only really seeing each other in the hallways or at the back of the school bus.

By the time you both entered high school, Steve was completely swept up with basketball and his newfound popularity, and you were settling into your own friendships and trying to stay on top of your grades. You rarely saw one another, but by chance the two of you were paired as lab partners one semester in sophomore year, and soon science became his favourite subject. Seeing you became the highlight of his day, better than scoring a goal in basketball or cutting class with Tommy and Carol. It was as if no time had passed between the two of you, the conversation so easy and genuine, and he made it a personal challenge to have you in stitches by the time the bell rang.

He fell hard, and fast. He had always thought you were beautiful, even when you were just kids and you wore your hair in two braids and seemed to always be covered in glitter. There was just something about you, an ease and a lightness that you carried, something about your smile and sound of your laugh that had him stumbling over his sentences like an idiot. He liked hearing about all of the things he had missed, like how you got grounded for sneaking out of your room to go and watch the new Star Wars, or how you crashed your dads car into a tree the very first hour after you got your license.

It wasn’t long before he realised that his day didn’t feel complete unless he had spoken to you. He started noticing how every game he searched for your face in the bleachers, the only person he really cared about seeing. His eyes would flicker over faces at parties, determined to find your sparkling eyes and kind smile, finding the hit of seeing you more electric than the cheap beer and fizzled out joints being passed around him.

He was nervous. He didn’t get nervous - he was Steve Harrington for Christ’s sake, but somehow you had managed to turn his whole world on its axis. He tried to live his life with as little regrets as possible; but in the quiet of his bedroom, with the moonlight casting shadows across his walls, he couldn’t help but feel furious with himself. If he could go back in time and do everything all over again, he would make sure to hold onto you as tight as possible and stop the two of you drifting apart.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew you were a knockout. The kind of girl that would bring even the strongest of men to their knees, the kind of girl that lingered in his brain long after he had fallen asleep. He also knew that he wasn’t the only one who had been completely captivated by you. He had seen the way Mike Adams cornered you after the school assembly, laughing at something you said as you sat with a group of friends, an enamoured look in his eye. He saw the way Jacob Taylor tried his hardest to get as close to you as possible at a house party, dazed by the way you twirled your hair obliviously and smiled like white, hot sunshine.

He knew what they were going through, smitten and stupid and dopey and practically a puddle at your feet, because he felt exactly the same way.

He was going to ask you out to dinner and then the movies. He had an elaborate speech planned in his mind, one that he had practiced in the mirror repeatedly - not that he would ever admit it. He was nervous. So goddamn nervous of screwing up the one thing that he really fucking liked, of potentially ruining your friendship and making himself look like an ass for misreading the signals and making you uncomfortable that he almost talked himself out of it as he walked into the physics lab one rainy afternoon.

But when he saw you there, looking up at him. As sweet as cinnamon in your oversized lab coat and stupid goggles, lips slightly chewed and fingertips stained with charcoal, and he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:

“Doyouwanttogooutwithme?”

For a moment he wished he took photography class, so he could snap a picture of the blush on your cheeks, have a physical copy of your wide smile and the glint in your eyes; something to look at when he was trying to fall asleep.

“About time, Harrington.” You had said, and it had knocked all of the wind from him, and he had walked around with a big goofy grin for the entire rest of the day.

————-————————————————

“I remember being so goddamn nervous. I thought I was going to throw up.” He said now, his voice laced with humour, somehow always knowing how to diffuse any situation.

You curled up further into him, craving his stability and warmth, and you relaxed as you felt his palm rubbing comforting circles across your back.

He looked into the darkness, remembering the anxiety filling him as he waited for you on the street by your house. He remembered peering into the rear view mirror, fluffing the edges of his hair with his fingertips, twisting and pulling the strands until they sat where he wanted. He could feel his leg shaking, foot hovering above the gas as he struggled to keep his composure. He hadn’t even been this nervous when college scouts came to a game, and he seriously needed to stay cool before you opened the door and saw him.

“You brought me flowers.” You said quietly, and he looked down at you with a gentle smile, his heart clenching at the sadness in your voice.

He remembers standing in the grocery store, cursing and muttering under his breath, wondering what was more romantic: tulips or sunflowers.

He bought both.

He can remember holding them in his shaking hands as carefully as he could as he walked up the stone path to your house.

“I had to talk myself into ringing the doorbell.” He felt you scoff under him and he laughed,

“Seriously! I was terrified, more scared than I was tonight.”

Its a lie. Running through the junkyard and fighting off strange monsters had been exhilarating, but also the most terrifying experience of his life; especially when he knew that the kids and you were just metres away, hidden in the old bus. He really thought he was about to die when the demodog reared and snarled in his face, teeth gnashing at his throat, but in those moments all he could think about was protecting you.

It’s strange, he had never been so terrified to lose someone.

“And then Bob opened the door.” Your voice was heavy and thick, like you were swallowing honey and it snapped him out of his thoughts, reminding him of the reason you were both huddled outside.

Your parents worked ninety percent of the time, only really coming home to crawl into bed and then driving back to work six hours later. You were used to it though, falling into a somewhat stable routine of eating TV dinners and doing your homework to the sounds of Jeopardy! playing in the background. Despite the lonely nights and your parents distance, there was always one person who tried their absolute best to make you feel safe and secure. Your uncle, Bob Newby.

The goofy, gold hearted manager at RadioShack was always there for you, especially whenever your parents weren’t. He always made sure your refrigerator had something green inside, and would come over after work to sit and watch cheesy rom coms with you. He even installed new locks and security lights in the yard and on the porch, just to make you both feel better, even though it was Hawkins - and nothing ever happens there.

He was basically a surrogate dad and your best friend, and you weren’t even embarrassed to admit it. Some of the happiest nights of your life had been with him, like when you went to the midnight viewing of The Godfather and shared toffee popcorn and cherry twizzlers, or when he drove you to Lake Michigan for your birthday and you ate sandwiches next to the water.

So when he found out the captain of the basketball team had asked you out on a date, he was a little apprehensive.

“He really grilled me.” Steve muttered with a sad smile, it hurt him that one of the most poignant moments of his life was now to be covered in a thick, black cloud, and he could only imagine what you’re going through. “I thought he was going to pull out a shotgun.”

“Psh. It would have been a lightsaber.”

You remembered shovelling in cereal at the breakfast bar the morning of your date. Bob watching you over his steaming mug of coffee curiously.

“So… Any plans for today?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled fondly at your uncle. “Steve is taking me out. This is only like the billionth time I’ve told you.”

He nodded, “Right, Right. Steve. Steve.” He tested the name on his tongue. “And Steve is - the captain of the basketball team right?”

“Yep.” You said, through a mouthful of sugar. “Oh, and he’s the leader of this really tough biker gang, to get in you have to murder three kittens.”

You watched his eyebrows shoot to his hairline, and then slowly fall back to their original spot when he caught on to your teasing. He held up his hands in playful surrender, taking a swig of his drink and then placing his mug on the granite counter.

“I know I’m being a fusspot! But I’m just looking out for you.”

“I know, Bob! But I’ll be fine! We’re just going to catch a movie and then dinner.”

“Ok.” He sighed, turning to wash up the dishes left from the previous nights pig out fest, but his hands stilled before he could twist the faucet. “Wait! Nothing R rated - or too romantic, and tell him to knock it off if he tries that whole ‘I’m so tired, let me put my arm around you schtick!’”

“I’m ignoring you now!”

You remembered getting ready, picturing the soft blush hue of your summer dress, and the taste of your strawberry gloss on your lips. You remembered the heat of your curling iron as you meticulously styled your hair, checking your reflection as a way to distract from the minutes ticking by.

You knew the familiar feeling of sweaty palms and butterflies before a date, but that morning it was as if somebody had realised a kaleidoscope of monarchs and swallowtails inside of you. You were completely nauseous, but so excited, and you felt like you were floating on cloud nine, unable to believe that Steve Harrington - the boy you had been crushing on since first grade - wanted to take you out.

You were nervously touching up your makeup, widening your eyes and applying yet another coat of mascara, when you heard commotion downstairs - and the telltale sound of your date getting completely grilled. You practically flew to your feet, haphazardly tying your converse and grabbing your purse, hoping to save Steve from the clutches of your overprotective Uncle. You nearly slid down the carpet when you noticed the door was ajar, smiling widely at the sight of Steve clutching two bouquets, his hair perfectly coiffed and his sneakers white and gleaming.

“- No I’ve never been in an accident, Sir.” You heard Steve say, his voice carrying through the hallway.

“Hmm?” You heard Bob reply, “And what about alcohol? Do you drink it?

“Only eggnog at Christmas.” Steve replied with a grin, his lips falling down when Bob sent him a glare. “Ok, not in the mood for jokes.”

“Are you under the influence now?”

“What? No! Why would I… Wow.” He faltered when he noticed you at the top of the stairs, and for the first time his mind went totally blank, his brain short circuiting at the sight of you. He felt his mouth go dry and he struggled to say something, not wanting to look like any more of an idiot than he already was, but Bob got there first.

“You look great, sweetheart.” He said, voice brimming with pride.

You blushed a deep crimson, feeling awkward under both of their stares. “Thanks, Bob.”

As soon as you reached the floor you blinked up at the men watching you, raising a brow slowly when Steve didn’t move. “So are you ready?”

“Yep. Yes. Yep.” He said quickly, rummaging around his pockets for his keys, and then realising they were in his hands the whole time. “Lets go.”

“Be home before eleven!” You heard Bob yell, his words just carrying into the night before you managed to slam the front door shut.

After the initial awkward meeting at your door, and Bob shooting unconvincing daggers at Steve as he guided you towards his car, the rest of the date went smoothly. You had been out with boys before; middle school crushes that took you to the ice cream parlour in town, and letting your best friend rope you in for a double date with a boy you had never met - but nothing like this.

As the car lulled through the streets, any unease forming quickly uncoiled between the two of you, and it wasn’t long until you were both in stitches. It felt so natural and easy, and you found yourself wanting to know everything about the hazel haired man sitting next to you.

You ate at a diner just outside of town, because according to Steve: “they have the best strawberry milkshakes - ever. I swear they’re like crack.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it, Harrington.” You had said, shooting him a million dollar smile over your shoulder. He was glad that you walked in first, because it felt as though a bullet had soared through his gut.

——————————————————————-

“I remember the milkshakes.” You said. Steve looked down at you, curled up on his lap. He nodded at your words, thinking of summer days and winter nights snuggled up in your booth at the diner. You must have shared hundreds by now, drinking such an obscene amount of the sweet treat it was a surprise neither of you looked like a strawberry. You had ruined the fruit for him. He couldn’t take a bite from a strawberry without remembering the taste of your lips or the sound of your laugh, it was conditioned into him like he was one of Pavlov’s dogs. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t love it, strawberries had become his favourite fruit.

“I told you those milkshakes were great.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He could feel you wobbling under him, could feel the heart wrenching tremor of your body starting to shake with tears and he swore internally, trying his best to distract you again.

“And then we watched Ghostbusters.”

You let out a half hearted laugh. “And you almost shit yourself when you saw Slimer.”

“He popped up outta nowhere!”

“And then you spilt popcorn everywhere.”

“Yeah, that old lady was pissed.” He clicked his tongue at the memory, crumbs and melted butter flying everywhere, the entire row in front covered in his mess and glaring at you both, you laughing so hard into your sleeve you thought you might just pass out.

“And then I drove you home - way before curfew I might add - because I’m a gentleman.”

“And then you kissed me.”

“I think you’ll find you kissed me.”

“Ha.You wish.”

It felt good to hear the bite back in your voice, and it warmed him like a zap of electricity that his plan of distraction was working.

Besides, it was partly true - you had kissed him first.

That night as he pulled into your driveway, his gut felt like a huge boulder inside of him. There was nothing more that he wanted then to lean over the console and kiss you, but he was too goddamn nervous.

The date had gone so brilliantly, and he could feel himself, tripping, stumbling and falling completely head over heels for you, but he was so uncharacteristically anxious that it was kind of freaking him out. He was getting all worked up about things he had never thought of before, like his teeth clashing against yours, or accidentally knocking your heads together and giving you a mild concussion.

He left his car running, because he didn’t want you to be cold, (and the constant vibrations were good at hiding the tremor in his legs). It was fully black outside, the night sky a long stretch of navy and the stars were pretty but not nearly as pretty as the girl smiling at him in the passenger seat. Just as your eyes connected and he thought he was going to finally kiss you, the porch light turned on, a nice little reminder from Uncle Bob that he was still watching. You laughed exasperatedly and reached over, filling the distance between you as you tried to grab the strap of your handbag and Steve leant over to give you a hand with the sticky door, but instead your lips caught his and he froze in place, his eyes closed and his heart feeling like a jackhammer in his chest, all of his worries evaporating behind him like ocean spray, because suddenly everything felt right.

“Night, Harrington.” You had said smugly, leaving him in his car that suddenly smelt like cotton candy and coconut shampoo, and with an entire carnivals worth of fireworks erupting from his stomach.

————————————————————

“When I got inside he pretended he had just woken up.” You said now, your words coated with tears but laced with tenderness. “Tried to act like he wasn’t staring through the window watching us kiss.”

Steve tangled his fingers through your hair, anchoring the two of you together, hoping that the small action would give you at least some comfort. He mulled over all of the memories the two of you shared, picturing them shattered at his feet like shards of shimmering glass. He wasn’t sure how to comfort you and it hurt, the silence settling around you like thick, poisonous gas.

“What about our first anniversary? The first time we committed a felony.”

“It wasn’t a felony.”

“Yeah and I’m sure it wasn’t the first time either, you little criminal.”

He remembered when you went out to a much too fancy restaurant in the city. How angelic and beautiful you looked in a little sundress and heels, stealing the breath right out of his lungs whenever he looked at you. How even when he was out of his comfort zone you felt like home, always making him feel stable no matter where he was. He remembered those glances you stole at one another, tongue in cheek laughter and suppressed smiles at the strange place you were both in, the two of you sticking out amongst the older, richer and snootier couples like a sore thumb.

He remembered the glint in your eye and the look on your face, the one that had him completely wrapped around your little finger - (but really, you could look at him anyway and he was a complete goner). It was how you both stood up at the same time, grabbing your handbag and wallet and rushing through the sea of people, laughing loudly as he slipped his hand in yours and pulled you with him, dodging the doorman who was cursing loudly at the kids who had just dined and dashed, even though neither of you had had more than a mouthful of your overpriced starter.

“You are such a bad influence, (Y/L/N).” He had scolded, playfully pinching the inside of your thigh as you lay stretched out on a picnic blanket overlooking the forests on the edge of town. You swatted him away, and he felt his breath hitch at the sight of you, hair tousled and makeup slightly worn, so effortlessly beautiful beneath the headlights of his car.

“Oh, please Hargrove. You would be lost without me.”

He didn’t reply, because it was true.

Instead he leaned over your body, stealing a quick kiss and also a handful of fries from the drive thru bag next to you.

“Hey!” You whined, leaning up and swatting at him. “Those are mine!”

“Technically, technically,” He said, licking salt from his fingertips. “They were at the bottom of the bag, not in either of the cartons - so they were never really yours.”

You rolled your eyes, punching him softly in the gut and laughing as he collapsed on top of you. “You are such a dumbass.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dumbass.”

He ran his tongue over a canine, finding clarity in your eyes.“I can’t believe you’ve put up with me for a whole year.”

“Me neither, but the money your dad gives me to go out with you makes it worth it.”

His finger trailed along the bridge of your nose, his lips curling the same as the path his fingerprints followed. “Stupid.” It was a terrible comeback, but when you looked up up at him like that, all of his sentences spilt into a bowl of mismatched alphabet soup. He blinked down at you, feeling the way his heart hammered against his rib cage, engulfed in the terrifying feeling of being so in love with somebody. “Seriously though, this has - this has been the best year of my life.”

Your rosebud lips parted, showing him that dammed smile that would make him burn down the whole town if you asked him to. “Mine too.”

——————————————————————-

“Remember when I got a black eye because of you?” He murmured, glancing up at the stars that flickered above you both.

“Because of me?” You scoffed, halfheartedly. “Hardly.”

“Ok. Keep telling yourself that.”

There was once a time where he loved nothing more than spending Friday through Sunday completely wasted, waking up on somebodies couch, his mouth tasting like sour liquor and his clothes scattered across the floor - but not after he met you. He used to long for the high from downing tequila shots or jumping into the pool with hazy eyes, a burnt out joint being passed around friends, but soon he realised that nothing came close to the fever high he got from simply being around you.

He remembered sitting in the school parking lot on a Friday afternoon, listening to Tommy and Carol natter about how a group of seniors were going to break into the rec centre and get drunk, but there words were nothing but static as he looked for you among the familiar faces.

You had been officially dating for a few months, and much to Tommy’s dismay, it seemed as though neither of you had any intention of letting the other go. It stung the teenager when Steve started blowing him off to hang out with you, his usual alibi for wild parties leaving him high and dry. He was jealous of the way you managed to consume all of Steve’s attention, and the fact that since the two of you had gotten together, Steve was so much kinder to everyone, and didn’t want to join in with his juvenile antics. When you went to parties, he drank less and laughed more, and Tommy was left doing shots and keg stands alone.

More than anything though, Tommy was jealous that Steve had scored a girl like you, kind and soft and sweet, when he had trouble getting Carol to stay over longer than the time it took to drain a bottle of stolen wine. It made him feel envious and insecure, watching the way you kissed Steve in the hallways with rosebud lips and your eyes shone like diamonds under the gentle sun; when was a girl going to look at him like that?

“You coming tonight, Harrington?” He asked from the hood of Steve’s car, his legs dangling onto the asphalt.

“No.” Steve said, chewing on his fingernails. “Sorry man, I’m taking (Y/N) to the drive in.”

“Aww.” Carol preened, a solid supporter of your relationship. You hadn’t known her too well before you started seeing Steve and hadn’t expected to become so close to her, but now she was one of your best friends. Sure she could be a little vapid and a little rude, but she also made you laugh loudly and always helped you get ready for dates with Steve, and you really appreciated the way she let you into the inner circle. “That’s so sweet. You guys are too cute.”

Tommy ignored her. He could already feel himself boiling over.

“Cmon Harrington, it’s one night. It’s tradition.”

“No it isn’t.”

He exhaled loudly. “Well it should be.”

“I’m good, man. And besides, we’re still going to see the Bulls play on Saturday, right?”

“I guess.”

Silence settled around them like cigarette ash. Tommy, growing more irate by the second, toyed with the collar of his shirt and curled and uncurled his fingers. He wasn’t quite sure why he was pissed - as Steve’s best friend he should have been pleased with how love struck and happy he was, and it wasn’t as though he never saw Steve anymore, or that you had split up the group or anything - but he was still annoyed, and that’s why he said it.

“God, I hope she’s a better fuck than she looks. I mean, she must be if she’s got you this whipped.”

It took a moment for Steve to process what he had said, swallowing his friends words like they were barbed wire, his throat filling with blood.

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Just what everybody else is thinking.” It wasn’t what everybody thought, but Tommy thrived off of mob mentality, and the small crowd watching in the parking lot was enough to spike his adrenaline.

“Tommy.” Carol warned, her voice thick and heavy, eyeing him from over the roof of the car.

“What did you say about her?” Steve asked, his face turning crimson, the shade matching the colour coating his pupils.

Tommy didn’t hold back, his hands firmly grasping his shovel, ready to dig himself deeper. “Jesus. Look at you! Look what she’s turned you into. She’s a bitch, and so are you.” He gestured wildly with his hands, the severity of what he had said was slowly sinking in, but he was stupid enough to stand by it for the time being.

Steve was livid. His body rattling like he had been struck by lightning. He knew he wasn’t some fucking white knight who had to defend your honour, but there was no way in hell he was going to let some fucking prick about you like that.

“And…you know what? The both of you can - ”

“Fuck you.” Steve brought his fingers to a fist and clocked him right in the nose, a sickening thwack echoing around the school. Tommy recoiled backwards, almost falling through the windshield. He managed to regain his balance at the last second, and his face was contorted with both pain and disbelief.

“What the fuck man?” Tommy seethed, spitting out a wad of blood and lunging at Steve, managing to grab him by his collar and slam him onto the asphalt, their jeans ripping across the gravel.

The two of them rolled around, a deadly mix of closed knuckles and crisp white sneakers. A small crowd had gathered around the two of them, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and rich with stories to be shared around the party that night. They both managed to get a couple good hits in, Steve just managing to get the upper hand before the school janitor started calling in for backup.

You had just left World Civ, your textbooks still cradled in your arms and your best friend laughing in your ear as you made your way out of the school and towards the parking lot.

“Yeah, I swear! She…” Your best friends voice trailed off as she noticed a blur of movement in the distance, her ears picking up like a bloodhounds. “Oh my God. I wonder what’s going on.”

You looked up shrugging your shoulders, expecting to see some of the wrestling team or soccer players roughhousing like they usually did, but your blood turned cold when your eyes focused fully and you caught sight of that damn perfect hair.

“Holy shit. Steve!”

If only your phys ed teacher could have witnessed the speed you ran across the car park; dust picking up with your shoes as you bolted towards your boyfriend. You managed to break through the inner circle crowding around them, the teenagers egging on Tommy and Steve as they scrambled towards one another, the sound of elbows and knees and fingernails clashing all around you.

“Hey. Hey! That’s enough!”

Poor Mr Springer tried his best to separate the two of them, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist and trying to tear them apart as they continued scrapping like junkyard dogs.

Your mouth was agape as a couple of boys helped break the two of them up, your eyes widening at the scarlet red blood staining the ground and the deep purple bruises already starting to show. You managed to catch Steve’s line of sight, his eyes widening at the sight of you, his face starting to swell.

“Steve? What the fuck!”

“Oh! Hey, babe? How did your pop quiz go?” He asked, throwing you a dazzling smile as though everything was right in the world.

Despite everything, you bit back a laugh, kneeling down to wrap your hands around him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” You said, cradling the now puffy side of his face, a quarter sized apricot indent growing under his eye.

He winked at you as he was pulled away and dragged to the principal. He knew he was in for a months worth of Saturday detentions, but he couldn’t care less. He avoided the death glare his former best friend was giving him, licking the blood pooling across his split lip.

If he had to chose between you or Tommy, or choose between nights in with you or nights out with the rest of the seniors - hell, if he had to choose between basketball and you, it would be you, every time.

Point blank, period.

———————————————————-

There was a chill in the air, swallowing the both of you whole. Steve could feel his jeans dampening, your tears cascading down your face and onto his denim. He could feel eyes on the back of neck, and knew without turning around that Dustin and the rest of the kids were watching from the kitchen window, waiting to jump out and rescue you both if something crawled out from the bushes.

He didn’t have much time left. Soon he would have to bring you back inside, away from the vulnerability of the night and into the embrace of those you had grown so close to. He thinks back with a grimace, to the fight you had over your new routine.

Bob and Joyce dating came as a shock to everyone involved, especially Steve. Not so much that Bob had found companionship with the pretty single mother, but more so that it meant you were spending more time at their house - with Jonathon.

He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t.

No matter how many times you rolled your eyes and teased him - he wasn’t jealous.

He just didn’t like the idea of you sat next to him at movie nights, laughing with him during family board games, eating breakfast in the chair beside him, driving to school together and singing along to the stupid obscure bands that Jonathon liked.

Ok maybe he was a little jealous. Sue him.

He’d spent the night at your place, under the guise of helping you with your calculus homework, even though you had a higher grade than him, and he watched with sleepy eyes as you rummaged around your desk in the morning.

“What?” He mumbled under the slowly rising sun, half of his face still buried in your pillow. “What? Where? Where are you going?”

You rifled through your handbag and examined the contents, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Bob’s taking everyone out for lunch - well it should have been breakfast but someone - ” you emphasised with a playful glare, “Is making me late.”

“Whose going?”

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“You know. Me, Joyce, Jon and Will.”

Jon.

“You didn’t tell me Jonathon was going.” He’s not sure if it’s true. He remembers fragments of you telling him your plans for the weekend, but he also remembers your words shattering before they reached his brain, because of that little strappy top you were wearing and the blackberry colour of your lipstick.

“What?” You asked distractedly, untangling your headphones from your Walkman. “I did.”

“No.” He clicked his jaw, a sign of his annoyance. “You just said Bob was taking you out.”

“With everyone - everyone includes Jonathon.”

“Right.” He’s pissed. His anger isn’t directed at you, more so the floppy haired teenager you’ll be sharing pancakes with, even though it’s not exactly his fault either. “Since when did you guys become The Brady Brunch?”

You let out a dry laugh, oblivious to the fact your boyfriend was getting more agitated by the second.

Did you really have to wear that skirt? He thought. Why did it have to be the short little denim one covered in cherries that made you look so damn good?

“You know how much Joyce loves her kids, Bob just wants to make an effort.”

“Yeah but why do you have to go?”

You shrugged, applying a swipe of lipgloss and tightening your cardigan in an effort to hide the hickeys blossoming under your collarbones. “He invited me, said it’s a family thing.”

“It’s not as though you’re really family though is it?”

He regretted it the moment the syllables left his mouth, but he was too wound up to think before he spoke. He cringed at the way you lost his gaze in the mirror, really fucking hating himself when he saw the crimson blush rise from your throat and onto your cheeks, and the sheen coating your eyes.

“I should go.”

You didn’t hesitate, grabbing your belongings and darting down the stairs. Family had always been a sore subject for you, and he loathed himself for striking you in the one place that it really fucking hurt.

“Wait.. Baby I -” He chased after you, but you were too fast. He wished that you would stay and argue with him, he’d let you scream and yell and shout at him, because he deserved it and he wanted to let you know he was sorry for being a prick, but you were already out of the door.

“Just up when you leave.” Were the last things you said, disappearing into your car.

He apologised with your favourite chocolates and red roses and an attempt to make you dinner. You couldn’t stay upset with him and his sheepish grin even when half of your kitchen was covered in tomato sauce and your moms pan was coated in burnt pasta.

The boy could screw up, but he always knew how to make up for it.

He trusted you, and loved you, and apologised for - in your words, ‘being a class A jackass’ - and even put away his pride long enough to tell you that, Ok, fine, maybe he was a tiny bit jealous of Jonathon and the bond growing between you.

That night as you curled up on your living room floor amongst an abundance of pillows and crocheted throws, you reassured him that you were in love with him and only him, even when he drove you up the wall. He fell asleep a little easier that night, his girl happy and safe in his arms, your words calming the storm that was once brewing in his mind.

…And maybe Jonathon wasn’t that bad.

———————————————————-

The light of the moon was harsh, almost like the street lamps that flickered in the distance. Steve could feel you moving underneath him, and his palms were starting to dampen, the reality of the evening finally sinking in.

Bob was dead.

As though the same thought had passed through you, you spoke, your voice strained and quiet. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

“I know.”

Your voice cracked like thin ice. “He didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t… He.” You choked on your words, and Steve pulled you into him firmly, as if to stop you from falling apart.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You sniffled, a sob tearing through your lungs and clawing through your throat, and you tried desperately to not think about your poor uncles lifeless body. “What am I going to do without him?”

You weren’t looking for an answer, but Steve gave you one.

“It’ll be me and you, it’ll be us. Forever.”

His future was uncertain. He was under a mountain of pressure from his teachers and coaches and guidance counsellors to get his head down and decide about college and scholarships and what he was going to do with his life.

He even took one of those quizzes that was supposed to help him figure his shit out, but when he sat there, pencil in hand and he read the words - where do you see yourself in five years? The only thing he could think of, was you.

He thought of you, so smart and pretty, your future just as undecided as his, but still by his side. He could see road trips and night drives and long distance calls, he could see morning laughter and monumental arguments and make ups, in the distance he could even see a house with a white picket fence and a big dog and a few kids who looked like a mixture of the both of you.

It seemed so simple. So much more simple than applying for college or an internship, because he knew that whatever he did, he wanted it with you.

And then this crazy fucking year happened, and things weren’t so simple anymore. Soon he was best friends with a bunch of pre teens and fighting off big scary fucking monsters and Billy Hargrove. Soon his small world of basketball and strawberry milkshakes and tongue kisses was filled with danger, and he needed to keep you safe.

“I miss him.”

“I know.” He says honestly. “I miss him too.”

He remembered the last conversation he had with Bob. It was before they found Hopper underground, and Bob was getting ready to leave and see Joyce and Will. You were in your room, finishing off the last of your homework, and Steve was heading downstairs to finish off the last of the pizza. He had just grabbed a Coke and a slice of pepperoni, when he saw Bob rummaging through the cupboard in the hall.

“Hey,” Steve said, waving the hand with the soda in it. “I heard about Will. Is he alright?”

Bob gave a kind nod. “Yeah.” He hesitated. “Well, actually, I’m not sure. I’m uh - I’m looking for my old board games for him to play with.”

Steve smiled, because that was exactly the thing Bob would do. “Well, give him my best.”

They exchanged pleasantries, and Steve spun his heel to rejoin you upstairs, taking a big bite of melted cheese as he walked, before Bob spoke aloud once again.

“There’s something strange going on in this town.”

Steve remembered the year before, standing in Jonathan’s living room, twinkling Christmas lights draped on the wall and a baseball bat in his hands. He remembered Barb and Will, and the body from the quarry.

“Yeah.”

Bob exhaled, moving so that he was standing face to face with the teenager. “You make sure nothing happens to her, alright? You know she’s - you know she’s my little girl.”

Steve straightened, his voice solid. “I would never let anything happen to her.”

“I know. You’re a good guy, Harrington.”

He doesn’t know if he agrees, but he knows that for you, he will be.

“Take care of her.”

“Always.”

And they had partied ways: Steve upstairs, where he pulled you into his arms and made you laugh as he planted wet kisses on your face. And Bob to the Byers house to find a map spanning the length of the walls, and then the hospital, and then ultimately, to his death.

———————————————————-

The dark felt much more menacing now, shadows moving like long fingernails and jagged claws around you. He knew that he had to get you inside. He knew that the others would be making plans and setting traps and he knew how much safer you would be there. His heart was shattered after the small sobs leaving your body, your chest deflating like a burst balloon. He also knew that the best people to comfort you would be inside, Joyce with her motherly love, Dustin with his sweet, silly nature, and even Jonathon who truly loved you like a sibling.

“Cmon, lets get you inside.”

He wrapped his hands around you and helped lift you up, steadying you as you swayed on shaky legs. He cradled you into him, feeling the warmth of your breath and tears against his throat, and he inhaled, preparing himself and readying himself, telling him to be strong, for you.

He wrapped a free hand around the door handle, waiting to twist. He took one final look at the menacing bushes and trees surrounding you both, listening for a rustle from the branches.

He doesn’t know what will happen next. But he does know, that whatever it is, you’ll face it, together.

[irrelevantwriter]

By The Light Of The Moon

Pairing: Negan x Witch!Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, mutual masturbation, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, Negan getting seriously mind fucked, spooky tings (bc its Halloween and I’m in the spirit)

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Negan takes notice of a beautiful stranger at The Sanctuary. You’re willing to offer a lot more than he signed up for.

A/N: So, because I can’t possibly help myself, I’ve decided to do a take on the Hopper x Witch fic I did and do one for my OG Daddy Negan. This one is A LOT more in depth and long AF, but so worth it. This idea was perfect for Negan and I can’t wait to see what you guys think! Enjoy and share with your friends!

P.S.

Requests are still coming! This def got me in the headspace for Negan again. Be on the lookout. And if you’d liked to be tagged in any of my stories, holla at your girl.

*Masterlist in bio.

**********************

Negan swung Lucille at his side, deciding to bring her along on his trek through The Sanctuary’s marketplace. The air was crisp and smelled of pumpkin and apple spices. According to his timekeepers, it was the night before Halloween. And The Sanctuary was in full spirit.

Baked goods permeated the air while children rushed to put a costume together. Negan couldn’t help the smile that fell on his lips at the sights and smells. It felt good to be festive and he’d decided to stroll through his kingdom to take in all it had to offer.

Of course he did have an ulterior motive for such a visit. He was Negan after all. He never did anything without a reason. And his stroll had a purpose.

As if seemingly overnight, the whole place had become enchanted with a woman selling homemade goods in the market. She apparently made soaps, candles, and oil remedies, among other things. And they seemed to work, at least by the accounts of his people. It sounded like hippie shit to him. But even Simon had brought her up, talking nonstop about the fucking lotion she made him for his sore shoulder. The man seemed hypnotized...everyone did. And Negan came to find out just exactly what all the fuss was about.

People dropped to their knees as he moved through the crowd, but he waved them off. He was here on pleasure, not business. His dark eyes found a booth in the corner with a crowd surrounding it, the person in charge not visible through the shoppers. Negan made his way over, sure this was where he was headed.

A hushed silence filled the air as he strode up, effectively making his way to the front of the line. He smiled when his eyes caught the beauty behind the table. He understood why so many people were taken with you. You were stunning.

He bit his lip, his toothy grin on full display as he took you in. Beyond your obvious attractiveness, there was a magnetic pull, something he couldn’t quite explain. It was mystic and not solid, like a fog. And he could feel it calling to him.

“Well, what do we have here?” He bellowed, making the people nearby pause. He found he didn’t care to have an audience so he dismissed them, insinuating the booth was closed to everyone except him.

He observed you, trying to read your expressions. You didn’t seem at all perturbed by his actions. In fact, you seemed somewhat amused. A smile turned one corner of your lips and he found himself mirroring the gesture.

“So you’re the one who everyone’s been going on about?” He gestured with his free hand to your surroundings, appearing as if he was unimpressed by your reputation.

Truth was...he was intrigued. And mildly suspicious. Not much got by him at The Sanctuary, if anything. The fact that you’d gone under the radar and passed his keen eye peaked his interest.

“Guess so.” You replied simply, face still unmoving.

He grunted, a little disappointed at your lack of response.

He’d be the first to say what an arrogant, self-righteous asshole he was. Leading a community had made him a hardened man. People respected him. They feared him. And women were enamored with him. They practically threw themselves at his feet. Your blasé attitude made him falter. Yet he found himself inexplicably drawn to you...to your energy. Whatever the fuck that meant.

He picked up a bottle filled with thick ivory cream. The handwritten label said it was body lotion with hints of lavender and vanilla. He wasn’t usually into the fresh scents of body washes and lotions, but he had to admit that the shit smelled amazing.

“Your products are all the rage around here, doll.” He perused your table, picking up a random item here and there to scent. His fingers stopped on a drawstring bag with herbs, the label identifying it as a sleep aide.

“A lot of people feel that they work. Helps them get through the days a little easier.” You explained, following him down the table.

Negan nodded, lifting a lavender candle to his nose. The fucking thing smelled heavenly. “So I’ve heard.”

“You should take some.” You offered, gesturing to the bag of herbs he’d been eyeing moments before.

“For sleep? Why would I need that?” He questioned, almost offended you assumed he didn’t get quality rest.

“It’s the most popular. Not many of us get a good night’s rest these days. I imagine leading this place makes it difficult to fully relax.” You picked up the bag and held it out to him, a pleasant smile still present on your lips.

Negan studied you long and hard, uncaring if he made you uncomfortable. He didn’t appear to though. You stood facing him head on, eyes catching his in a captivating stare off.

“How long have you been here? At The Sanctuary.” He watched as you finally let your hand fall, giving up on passing the herbs to him.

“A couple of months.”

“Who brought you in?” He pressed, eyebrow arched and jaw clenched in an intimidating fashion.

“I don’t remember.”

Negan shook his head and pursed his lips, unhappy with your answer. “Sounds a little suspicious to me.”

He waited a beat to see if you’d react. You didn’t.

“What’s your name, doll?”

“Doll is fine.”

He chuckled, amused by your answer. “You’d be the first to say so.”

He sighed and straightened his back, standing to his full height. He could tell that there was something different about you, something enigmatic. He hadn’t figured out if it was good or bad. He felt the need to push you for answers, to learn every detail of your life, both past and present. But he could also feel a nagging in the back of his head, a nagging that was urging him to let it go.

He decided he would. For now. At least until he could fuck you. Which he planned to do soon.

“I’ll take the herbs and a candle, doll.”

***********************************************

Negan awoke with a start. His body was prickled with sweat, his limbs feeling like lead weights. He reached on his nightstand for his watch, taking note of the still black night outside his windows.

12:00 am.

It was Halloween.

And he’d only been asleep for a few hours.

He searched his memory, trying to piece together his evening. His mind felt oddly foggy and he had to concentrate hard on remembering.

He’d made it to his room after fucking Tanya’s red-headed brains out and then ate his dinner. Then, he’d gone over some notes with Simon for the meeting the next day and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He’d remembered the bag of herbs he’d bought from you and decided to give them a try. He’d followed your instructions and mixed them into a warm mug of water, making sure the liquid went from clear to a light yellow. He found that detail odd, but you’d assured him it was normal.

He drank it. The mixture had a surprisingly pleasant taste. And then he’d apparently passed out because his memory stopped there.

His mouth felt dry and he fumbled for a bottle of water he kept nearby. He drained its contents, wayward drops of water landing on his bare chest instead.

He wiped his mouth and the sweat from his brow, scanning his bedroom for the thing that woke him. Everything appeared to be in order. He stopped and listened, waiting to hear a noise or two. Nothing. All was quiet.

He was overcome with the sudden compulsion to seek you out. It startled him how much he wanted to do so. And while he knew the hour was late and he had no real reason for doing so, he did it anyway.

Negan walked the silent halls of The Sanctuary, somehow knowing exactly where to find you. He moved quickly, the urge to see your face now a desperate craving. Everyone was asleep. Not a soul was up or moving about. That fact was odd. The factory always stayed alive with some sort of activity, even in the dead of night.

That wasn’t the case tonight.

He made it to your closed door in minutes, the light coming from beneath signaling that you were still awake. His heart was hammering in his chest, his body suddenly having a strong reaction to your proximity. He felt off. He’d felt off since he woke up, but he couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong. All he knew was that he had to see you.

He knocked softly, listening for movement beyond the wooden barrier. He heard a shuffle of feet and then the knob turned. Your figure was illuminated by the light at your back as you opened the door. A wave of lavender and rose scent hit him, instantly putting him in a state of relaxation. He hungrily took in your appearance. A white nightgown that stopped just above your knees adorned your frame. It was a thin cotton material, the fabric nearly see through. It was a mesmerizing sight.

“Hi, I uh…” He found himself at a loss for words. A true first. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, doll.” He scratched at the back of his neck, attempting to focus on your face and not your seemingly impeccable pair of tits.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, smiling up at him as you spoke.

You suddenly stepped away from the doorway and out of Negan’s line of vision. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment before you returned, only this time you had a long black knit cardigan on and flats on your feet. You made a move to step into the hallway with him and he backed up quickly to allow you to do so.

“What’re you doing?” He asked as you turned back to face him.

“Taking you somewhere.” You reached for his hand, pulling him with you down the hallway. Negan followed, though he was unaware of why he was doing so.

“Where? It’s the middle of the goddamn night.” He questioned, taking notice of how you moved with such ease through the maze of halls.

“Somewhere special.” You threw over your shoulder as you led him outside into the chilly October evening.

The sky was black, probably the blackest Negan had ever seen it. But the moon was full and it was illuminating everything. It cast a ghostly glow on the factory and the surrounding woods. A breeze swept through the trees, the remaining leaves falling off their limbs almost instantly. The night was soundless, just like The Sanctuary. It was unusual. Not even the low, decaying groans of the dead could be heard.

“Where’s my fucking guards?” He asked you, somehow knowing you would know the answer. He gestured to the lookout posts atop the fences, the empty spaces making him pause. You pulled against his hand, your flesh suddenly heating him from the inside out.

“Don’t worry. It’ll all be fine.” You soothed.

It worked. And he was back to following you beyond the fences.

The woods were dense and difficult to navigate, but you maneuvered through them like you’d been doing it for years. He let you lead him. His body and mind followed you, trusted you. He realized how bizarre and extremely out of character his behavior was, but he couldn’t put a stop to it. Nor did he want to.

The cabin was nestled deep into the woods, but close enough to The Sanctuary that Negan wondered how he’d missed it. It had clearly been here for some time, but appeared to still be kept up by someone. There was a soft glow of light from a window, a billow of smoke rising into the night from the chimney. It was both a welcoming and ominous sight.

They hadn’t encountered any of the dead throughout their journey. He hadn’t even heard an animal rustle in the trees. It was if they were they only two people alive. He found he didn’t mind that fact. It was obvious he was willing to follow you anywhere.

You opened the door of the cabin and ushered him inside. The intoxicating scents of lavender filled his nostrils, the sensation making his eyes roll into the back of his head. He suddenly felt buzzed, as if he’d downed several shots of whiskey. His senses felt dulled and heightened all at the same time. He was entranced by you, by this place.

Orange flames burned in the fireplace, illuminating the space. An old table with two chairs sat near a makeshift kitchen, herbs and flowers hanging from the window to dry out. A small sofa and a chair made up the living room next to the fire. A bookcase held rows and rows of thick, leather-bound books. The titles were too small for Negan to see from his spot near the door, but he could tell the spines were worn with time.

His attention was diverted to the back corner where a large bed sat. It was adorned in black sheets and a dark purple blanket. Black lace hung from the four-poster railings, surrounding the bed in a veil of darkness. Candles littered the surfaces of two nightstands, the wax falling downward onto the wood top to escape the heat of the flame.

“Here.” You appeared in front of him with a steaming cup of liquid. You’d removed your cardigan and flats, your shoulders bare and calling to him.

“What is it?” He asked, accepting the drink. He inspected it, but it looked unremarkable. He took an exploratory sip, the smell wafting up to him .

“Tea.” You answered, moving behind him to remove his leather jacket. He let you, as had become the pattern for the evening.

Your hands danced along his arms, inspecting his tattoos with curiosity. He remained still, taking small sips from the mug as you did so. He felt your touch run up his bicep and over his shoulders, caressing the chords in his neck as you explored. Your palm made contact with his bearded cheek and he nuzzled into the warmth.

“You’re very important, Negan.” You mused, moving a strand of out of place hair from his forehead.

“Of course I fucking am. I’m a leader.” He agreed, his smug attitude finally making a comeback.

You smiled at his response and took the mug from his hand. You placed it on the table behind you and moved back into his personal space. Your hands gripped at his white t-shirt, your body pressing into his.

“That’s not what I meant.” You whispered into his neck, lips grazing his flesh.

His body broke out into shivers at the touch of your lips. He could feel your body heat radiating from you, the thrum of your heartbeat echoing in his ears. He wondered if you could hear his too with the way it was pumping.

“You have a purpose. I want to show you what that purpose is.” You pressed your lips against his suddenly, your tongue demanding permission to explore him.

Negan gripped your hips in return, matching your ferocity with his own. You tasted as good as you looked and he couldn’t get enough. He affixed himself to you, pressing closer as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Your breasts pushed into him and he responded with a thrust of his hips into yours. You pulled your mouth from his, peppering his neck with sensual kisses and determined bites.

“My purpose to fuck you? Because that’s about to fucking happen, doll.” He gritted through clenched teeth as one of your hands brushed his fast-hardening cock. He hissed as you bit down particularly hard on his neck and then lapped at it with your tongue seconds later.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric up and off in record speed. Negan threw his head back as you assaulted his chest with your mouth, your hands playing with the clasps of his pants. The roaring of extreme arousal was making itself known inside of him and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off.

His hands ventured beneath your nightgown and up your bare thighs, colliding with the white scrap of lace that hugged you. Your skin felt smooth, unblemished; as if you hadn’t spent all these years fighting for your life like everyone else. Your aroma was calling to him, making his mouth water and his control wane. He palmed your ass, gripping your flesh with a needy hunger. You moaned into his ear at the action, seemingly pleased with his touch. The air was thick with sexual electricity and Negan knew he wasn’t going to be able to leave this cabin until he had you.

“The bed.” You ordered, your voice coming out low and raspy. It was sexy. Your desire for him so strong that it literally poured from your lips.

Negan steered you both towards the satin and lace fortress, the bed a beacon in a midnight thunderstorm. You stopped him once the back of your knees made contact with the mattress, your lips finally pulling away from his chest and neck. He was sure he had at least a dozen fucking hickeys littering his skin by now.

He waited as you stared up at him, his hands still clutching the globes of your ass. You surprised him by cradling his face in your hands, the moment suddenly becoming intimate. Your eyes held a distinct spark, your lips a knowing smile. It was if you knew something he didn’t…a secret.

“You’ve been through so much pain.” You stated softly, fingers caressing the crow’s feet near his eyes.

He looked down at you with a mixture of confusion and disbelief, unsure of where this was headed. He could see the conviction behind your eyes, as if you really could see the voyage he’d taken and the trauma he’d been through. It made his hair stand on end.

“I can fix that for you.” You stated calmly and confidently, as if you had all the answers to his questions.

He noticed for the first time that your nails were painted a deep red as you ran them across his kiss-swollen lips.

He smirked at your antics, feeling a break in the haze. “Fix me? Hate to break it to you, doll, but I’m a lost fucking cause. Have been for a while.” He teased with a wink. 

He felt like himself again as he ran a calloused and scarred hand around to your lower stomach, grazing the waistband of your panties. You sucked in a breath when he traced your lips through the delicate fabric, feeling the moisture that had already begun to collect. His lust ratcheted up again at the touch of you and he rubbed himself against you in response. Your nipples were distinct peaks against the flimsy fabric of your nightgown and he yearned to wrap his lips around them and suckle like a newborn to its mother’s. He’d fucking live between your perfect breasts if you’d let him.

“I’m going to give you what you need, Negan. I’ll make you better.” You whispered as he took his turn to devour the flesh of your neck.

He smiled against you, entertained by your idea of pillow talk but not fully comprehending it. He didn’t give a shit what you said at this point. His dick was so fucking hard that he had to bury it inside you soon before he combusted.

“Well, since you’re offering…” He pulled back, eyes locked with yours as he pushed down the straps of your gown. “Let me see that glorious fucking body.”

You allowed him to move the fabric down your figure and over your hips, revealing yourself to him. He immediately attached himself to your tits, both mouth and hands working in tandem. Your hands pulled at his hair, keeping him mounted against you but shuddering away in sensitivity. Negan chased you with his lips, intent on marking you like you had him.

He reached a hand between your bodies, impatient with the pace. His gaze followed every curve and soft line of your body, still in awe of the perfection of your skin. It was flawless. You were flawless. A literal fantasy come to life.

Your hands were soon at his button, releasing the fabric from its hold and working it down his legs. He shed his boots quickly and stepped out of the garment, thankful he’d chosen to go commando. He watched you lick your lips at the sight of him and fuck if that didn’t make his balls tighten.

You sat down on the bed, positioning yourself so that he had a completely unobstructed view of the juncture between your thighs. He instinctually began to tug at himself while you touched yourself beneath your panties, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. He made it to you in two steps, a hand hooking your ankle and jerking you closer. He ripped the fabric away from your body, catching how soaked the material had gotten. You were fully nude now and practically glistening. He could almost see your pussy throb as he got onto his knees. He hovered there for a moment, taking in the scene. Your scent, your touch, hell, even the sound of your soaked channel. He savored it all.

“Negan, please…” You pleaded and damn did it feel fucking amazing to hear you call his name like that.

“You need me, doll?” He let a finger lazily play with your clit, enjoying the way you jumped at the contact.

“Yes, please…” You begged again, unashamed of your neediness. He liked that. He liked seeing you lose your composure. That shit was fueling him.

He relented and sucked harshly at your pulsing bud, his touch unforgiving. His lips kissed you while his tongue tasted you. He explored you, using his fingers to pry you open to his attack. Your thighs clenched around his head as your body arched off the bed. The candles reflected off your skin and he became awestruck by the image.

He fed on you, his appetite for you far from satiated. He welcomed your flavor on his tongue as he probed your opening, teeth nipping at your swollen lips. You yelped and jolted away, but he held you to him. He felt that drunk feeling again as he quite literally immersed himself in you.

“Don’t stop. I’m gonna cum.” You breathed out, head thrown back and hands struggling for purchase against the smooth sheets.

Negan had no intention of stopping. Instead, he doubled his efforts and ravaged you, seeing the prickle of pain flash across your features from his ruthlessness. You continued to hold his head to you as he attempted to drink every drop that poured from your lips.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes…” You chanted as your body rippled and convulsed with tremors. Negan caught every single one with his mouth, his eyes taking in the way you moaned and writhed. Your skin was slick with perspiration, your lungs rapidly taking in air as you slowly came down from your journey to space.

He stood, his whole body tense in untamable lust. He could feel the dribble of precum on his cock, the appendage begging for attention. He wedged himself between your thighs and submerged his cock in your overflowing dampness. He rutted against you, feeling you reach up to catch him in your folds. He dug his fingertips into your thighs as he let his cock nudge your abused clit. You winced at the oversensitivity.

“Fuck, I need to be inside this fucking pussy.” He growled, recognizing the tingle in his spine starting to form.

Negan didn’t wait for a response as he plunged inside of you, groaning at the instant surge of pleasure at finally being able to do so. He felt your heartbeat within your walls as it thrummed against his cock, squeezing him just right. It was as if you were made just for him. The way you hit every one of his nerves in the most delectable way possible made it seem as if you’d been sculpted for him, a genuine counterpart.

“Shit, that is one tight cunt.”

He moved slow and deep, treasuring the sensation of your body so effortlessly enveloping his. His hands were everywhere as your body became his playground. He held your tits, relishing the way they bounced to the rhythm of his hips. He grasped you throat and squeezed as you moaned for more. He took in the way your body so readily accepted his own, your pussy slickening him for his passage. It all felt fucking perfect. Perfect in a way he’d never experienced before.

“More…I need more.” You demanded, trying to reach for him.

Negan was happy to oblige and bent down to hover over your awaiting mouth. Small gasps escaped your throat as he continued to fuck you, the sound like music to his ears and pulsing dick.

“This what you wanted? This enough for you?” He grunted, angling his hips so that he could feel the natural barrier within you. He heard you whine and drag your nails down his back, the depth of his cock making you want to retreat.

“No, no…take it all, doll.” Negan tutted, forcing your body up the bed as he moved. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your teeth digging into his shoulder. The move sent a jolt through his system and he increased his speed. His hips slapped against your roughly, the loud smack of skin echoing throughout the room. He could feel his balls tightening and his limbs tingle. He wasn’t ready for it to end. He wasn’t ready to separate from your warmth just yet.

He straightened up, bringing you with him. Your body was pliable with his movements, letting him maneuver you how he saw fit. He lifted you into his arms, still impaled on him. He captured your mouth, walking to the head of the bed. He situated himself on the mattress, you still cradled in his arms. Without him having the leverage to thrust, you took it upon yourself to slide up and down on his engorged cock. He faltered at the motion, but recovered in time to position you in his lap.

“Ride me. Let that pussy take what she needs.” He nipped at your bottom lip as he encouraged you to move, slapping your ass in the process.

You didn’t hesitate. You wrapped your arms around his neck and bounced, chasing that ethereal high. Negan buried himself in your breasts, feeling that inebriated sensation start to strengthen. He gripped your hips, anchoring himself to something solid. He felt as if he might float away if he didn’t. He felt entirely too warm and the need to cum was more powerful than any other experience he’d had. His vision felt blurry, yet he could make you out perfectly. He could smell you and only you. Not the fire or the lavender anymore. His ears were attuned to your moans and whimpers, but silence lingered outside of that. He felt like he was in a vacuum of your essence, trapped but not wanting to escape.

“Yes, Negan…please cum.” Your words made him thrust up into you, eager to comply with your breathy request. The tell-tale signs were there. He was ready to let go.

Through the fog he belatedly realized he needed to pull out, not wanting to chance it. He readied himself to remove you from his lap when he felt you clamp down and hold him, your intent obvious.

“It’s okay. Do it. Fill me up.” You nibbled on his ear, tongue tracing his lobe as you massaged his cock with your walls. He went to protest, but stopped. The words died on his lips, his body now running the show. He only thought about you and how fucking magnificent you felt. He thought about how good it would feel to smear you in him. To see you leaking and dripping. The thoughts alone were enough to convince him that he should listen to you.

Your finger teased your clit as you rode him, urging him on. Negan gritted his teeth at the feel of your pussy spasming, your entire body ricocheting with the aftershocks. He surrendered to you and released, your pussy greedily taking from him as he tensed in orgasmic bliss. A hum of approval left your lips at the feel of him driving his seed into you, the warmth and stickiness coating you both.

“Fuck,” He cursed as he screwed his eyes shut. He felt like he’d been pumping for hours, the high lasting a lot longer than he’d anticipated. He felt overcome with exhaustion as he collapsed on the bed, your body still a place holder for his now flaccid cock. He looked up at you as you straddled him, a halo of candlelight encompassing you. He panted as he struggled to catch his breath while your nails dragged through his chest hair. You laid your head on his chest near his heart, your body rising in sync with his.

He was drained. Utterly and completely. He adjusted himself beneath you, feeling his cock slip out of you and land heavily between you. You rubbed yourself against him, his cum aiding the movements. His mind said no more, but his body was responding.

“Doll, this old man needs to rest. I think you broke my dick.” He groaned, feeling aches start to settle into his limbs.

You laughed, your body vibrating against his. “Doesn’t feel broken to me.” You quipped as you traced a finger over the twitching member.

He laughed, despite his fatigue and trailed a hand down your naked back. “You’re something else.”

“Good or bad?”

“Can’t decide yet. But my dick points to good.” He joked, liking the throaty laugh you released at his words. He could feel his eyes getting heavy and that distinct lethargy that came with sleep. He didn’t bother to move you from atop him. He liked your weight nuzzled against him, feeling the beat of your heart with his.

“Sleep.” You said into his chest as you placed a soft kiss near his ribs.

Negan nodded, though he was already halfway into his dreams by the time you spoke.

*******************************************

A loud knock jolted him from his slumber.

Negan sat straight up in his bed, eyes dancing around wildly in search of the intruder. He took in his bedroom skeptically, wondering how he’d gotten back.

Another knock sounded, followed by a call from the beyond the door.

“Boss? You in there?”

It was Simon. And he sounded strangely concerned.

Negan stood from his bed, groaning at the protests his sore limbs were giving him. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and thanked whoever the fuck that he at least had clothes on.

He pulled open the door and came to face-to-face with a worried looking Simon. The man’s own remaining hair was somewhat tousled and his mustache looked uncharacteristically unkempt. He looked like he’d been running his hands through it all day, an action Negan knew he didn’t partake in unless he was nervous about something.

“What is it? What happened?” He demanded, knowing there was something he was missing by the look in his friend’s eye.

He waited as Simon seemed to take him in, appearing to be relieved by his presence. The whole thing was making Negan feel weird.

“You okay? We were worried about you.” The man finally admitted, hand back in his thick moustache.

Negan arched a brow in question. “Worried? Why?”

“Its past noon. You never sleep this late. We didn’t hear from you and got nervous something happened.” He explained, gaze still inspecting Negan closely.

Negan widened his eyes at Simon’s words, not believing what he was saying was true. He raced to his nightstand and grabbed his watch, feeling a sense of déjà vu. The timepiece read back 12:15. It was still working and didn’t appear to have stopped at any point during the night.

He looked back at Simon, perplexed by his unexplained tardiness. He was just about to question his friend more about it when he remembered the previous night. The memories came flooding in like a busted dam. He saw you in that damn nightgown. The cabin in the woods. You riding his dick like a fucking prized pony. It all soared to the surface and through the fog that still littered his mind and body.

“What the fuck happened?” He mumbled to himself as he rubbed at a particularly sore spot on his shoulder. Had to be where you fucking bit him.

“You good, Boss? Need anything?” Simon interrupted from his spot in the doorway.

Negan went to dismiss him, but thought better of it and nodded. “Yeah, find me that girl from the marketplace. The one with all the lotions and shit.”

He waited for a yes sir from his right hand man, but never got one. He met Simon’s confused gaze and went to describe you further when the Savior spoke up.

“What girl? I don’t know anyone like that.”

Negan sighed, trying hard not to take his mounting frustration out on his friend. “Yeah you do, shithead. You bought some lotion from her for your bum shoulder.”

At his blank stare, he continued.

“I spoke to her yesterday. You were fucking there. Struggling to flirt with Meredith at the table with all the shitty DVDs.” Negan explained, attempting to jog Simon’s memory. It didn’t seem to be working.

“We didn’t go to the market yesterday.”

“Yeah, we fucking did.”

“No. I was at The Kingdom yesterday while you went to the northeast outpost.”

Negan shook his head, unable to comprehend what Simon was saying. There was no way that was true. He remembered it as clear as day. He remembered you. Simon had to be wrong. And Negan was going to prove it to him.

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Simon asked, that worry gaze back and aimed squarely on him.

Negan waved him away, searching his room for his boots, jacket, and Lucille. “Yeah, fine. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Simon hesitated, but he could see that Negan wanted to be alone so he complied.

Negan checked the calendar on his desk, his diligence when crossing off the days a daily ritual. He found the last day that was crossed out.

Halloween.

He wasn’t tripping fucking balls. He had his days right. Now he just had to find you.

**************************************

One month later…

Negan rubbed tiredly at his eyes, wishing he’d worn his reading glasses. He sat at his desk, studying the maps of each community who fell under his territory. It was late and he’d been staring at the goddamn things for hours, though the action was pointless. He wasn’t focused. Hadn’t been since that day a month ago.

He’d never found you.

Thirty days later and there still wasn’t any sign of you, your booth at the market, or your cabin in the woods. He’d had men out looking. Chasing a fucking ghost.

No one knew of you. No one had any recollection of you. Except for him. And it was fucking torture.

You were his elusive seductress, his enchantress. You were all he could think about. You dominated his thoughts, his dreams. Sometimes he felt as if he could still feel you beneath his fingertips. Hear the melodic tune of your pulse against his. A random breeze of lavender would sweep over him, carried by the wind. But you never materialized.

He knew he hadn’t made you up. He knew you weren’t some sort of fever dream. He’d had the marks on his skin to prove it. Scratches down his back, bites along his neck and chest, and the sore limbs from hours of fucking to prove it.

But the more days that passed, the more his memory failed him. His mental image of you faded over time, along with the bruises and scratches that littered his flesh. You were becoming lost in the everyday bustle and he didn’t know how to stop it. He had to give up searching for you, fearing his followers would start to think he was losing his fucking mind. His men already thought so. Simon practically had a straitjacket picked out for him.

All he could do was keep an eye out for you when he went beyond the fences. He searched everywhere, under the guise he was looking for supplies. It was pathetic really. He didn’t even know your fucking name.

His watch beeped from beside him, alerting him to the new hour.

12:00 am.

He decided to turn in for the night, done with tormenting himself. He stood up and stretched, hearing the satisfying pop of several joints as he did. He made his way to the window to take one last cursory glance to ensure everything was as it should be. He noticed something odd immediately. He felt like he did that night…wired but sluggish. It was a combination he could never forget.

Looking out into the night he realized how dark and empty the sky was, save for the new full moon that spotlighted the earth. Negan’s whole body went stiff as he searched for his guards. He couldn’t see anyone. It was dead silent.

A sudden warmth filled his body and a tingle started at the base of his toes. It was pleasant and started to move up each limb. He found himself succumbing to it, eyes rolling back the stronger it got. Suddenly and without warning, a crippling pain overtook his entire body. His bones felt like they were breaking and extending to unbearable lengths. His skin felt stretched and pulled tight, fighting to cover his expanding body. He yelled out in pain as his spine broke through his shirt and his legs jutted out of his pants. Long black fur soon covered every surface of him while his hands turned to oversized paws with jagged talons. His face felt like it was being seared off as it contorted into new features.

He collapsed to the floor on his knees, unable to take the agony. Simultaneously, his mind began to piece together the forgotten fragments. He saw you clearly once again as he relived your moments together. He saw your first conversation and the time at the cabin. He saw him worshipping your body over and over again throughout the night, your sweat-laced bodies slicking against each other. He saw your mind and the plans you had for him.

He saw everything.

“I can fix that for you.”

“I can give you what you need, Negan.”

“I’ll make you better.”

Your voice echoed in his ears, your true meaning now apparent. He felt a swell of testosterone rush through his veins, the appetite for blood suddenly all-consuming. He sniffed the air, smelling nothing but lavender. He growled, his hair standing on end as he felt you get nearer. 

You were here and you’d come to collect.

He hunched on all fours, the pose feeling natural to him in this state. Unbridled lust mixed with frenzied rage, making his mouth salivate. His teeth were larger in size and sharper, his tongue running over them hungrily. The moon shone itself in his room and he instinctually howled. He felt a pull towards the window, outside the walls of the factory. He didn’t stop to think. He only acted. He rushed the window and burst through, scaling the wall as he made his way down to the ground. He landed on his hind legs, standing up straight to scent the air. Beyond the trees he could see a plume of smoke.

The cabin.

You were calling for him…waiting. And as he ran towards you, human nature now erased by animalistic instincts, he heard your final words to him from that night ring in his head.

“I’m going to give you what you’ve always wanted. You’ll be your true form. And I’ll be your true mate. By the light of the moon, you’ll fulfill your true fate.”

[bluesey-182]

Jude was afraid.

She still had nightmares--months later--of the constant chill of the undersea. Of Balekin's cruel promises to do wicked things to her while she was under his enchantment, and Orlagh's chilling laughter that cut to her bones. She still woke up feeling alone, feeling trapped, feeling afraid, before she came back to herself and remembered she had escaped.

Alone in the mortal world she would wake up in a panic and it would take several minutes before she could calm herself down. After returning from her exile, she would wake up in the same panic to look over at the boy sleeping next to her and remember how to breathe.

Cardan didn't know about the nightmares. He didn't know that in the mortal world she had to shower instead of bathe because she found out the hard way that she couldn't sit in the tub. She remembered not being able to breathe, being so beside herself that she couldn't move even when a blood vessel broke and her nose started gushing blood into the water. Vivienne had to drag her shock-frozen body out of the bath and, after wrapping a towel around Jude, she held on to her younger sister while she sobbed on the floor.

Cardan didn't know that ever since she returned to elfhame, several months past, Jude still could not sit in the bathtub. She washed by pouring buckets of water on herself. As long as she wasn't submerged, she was fine. She was fine. She was fine. Except she wasn't.

And she was tired of being afraid.

She stood staring at the tub full of water, her hair pulled up (because no way she was putting her head underwater yet), trembling as if she stood naked in a cold room instead of still fully clothed in a room full of steam.

She just had to sit in there for a few minutes. She had to prove to herself that she could overcome this fear, that she was okay. She was okay. She needed to be okay.

A surge of frustration pulled her down as tears came to her eyes and she gripped onto her hair with painful force. After everything she'd been through she was being defeated by a fucking bathtub. She had been exiled after being made queen, but now more than ever she really did feel like the queen of nothing. She was nothing. She was afraid.

As if sensing something was wrong there came a soft knock on the door.

"Jude?" Cardan asked through the closed door. "Are you okay?"

I'm fine. she wanted to say. Go away! she wanted to scream. But she couldn't find enough air to drag out the words. She was crumbling.

The door cracked open. She balled her hands into fists, feeling hopeless and worthless and like she wanted to scream until her throat was raw, and still she could not speak. Even as Cardan leaned into the doorway, even as his eyes widened at the look on her face, even as he came over to her and cupped her face in his palms.

"Jude? Jude, what is it?" The concern on his face, in his voice, finally undid her. The tension left her body and she felt herself falling, falling, falling, before Cardan caught her and led her to the chair by the vanity. She more crumbled than sat down into the chair, still wheezing in breaths, and Cardan kneeled before her. He ran his hands down her arms, cupped her face, took both her hands in his and kissed each knuckle. Waiting for her to speak.

After she caught her breath and her tears slowed, he broke the silence. "Talk to me," he said ever so gently.

She took a deep breath and trembled beneath his gaze.

No more lies, she had promised him.

"I-" her voice broke. Another deep breath in. "I'm afraid to be in the water."

Cardan's brows crinkled. He held her hands a little tighter.

"I'm afraid," she continued with a trembling voice, "of being in the water and finding out I'm still in the undersea and that everything since I got free was just a dream." The confession made her feel empty. She hated how weak she felt. "I've been bathing by pouring water on myself, never sitting in the bath. I'm afraid to sit in there."

Cardan looked over his shoulder at the tub filled with water before turning back to her. Part of her expected him to laugh at her and taunt her for how foolish she was. But that was the Cardan from before. Instead he only said, "Then don't."

"You don't understand," she was shaking again, her voice rising with every word, "I don't want to be afraid anymore. I can't be afraid anymore. I have to get passed this, cardan! I have to--"

"Okay okay okay," he said gently, stroking her arms, cupping her face again. "Okay." She felt the tears building in her throat again as he looked at her from his position on the floor with a thoughtful expression. She was suddenly very tired--exhausted down to her core. She wanted to lay down on the ground and sleep. She wanted to scream in frustration. She wanted to be held. She wanted to push Cardan away from her. But before she could decide which impulse sounded more appealing, Cardan finally spoke.

"I have an idea. Do you trust me?"

"I don't know, should I?" she meant the response to be a joke but her voice still shook, making it sound more serious than she meant it. Still, Cardan gave her a small smile and helped her to her feet.

"Try to," he whispered, "just for a minute."

He looked at her expectantly. What was he waiting for? A confirmation? Feeling a little lost, Jude slowly nodded her head. This seemed to be enough for Cardan because he smiled again and reached for her dress. He slid the straps from her shoulders ever so slowly and gave the fabric a little push before he let it pool on to the floor.

"What--" Jude started. But then Cardan began to undress.

For just a moment Jude almost forgot her fear. Almost.

And then Cardan stepped into the bath.

Her heart started racing again as he reached out for her hands, gently led her closer until she was standing on the other side of the tub from him. She wanted to pull back and run but she was frozen. So frozen.

"It's okay," Cardan said soothingly. "Just sit down on the edge of the tub, don't worry about getting in."

She sank to the edge of the bathtub. He sank to his knees in the water.

"Now," he said loudly, startling her, "whenever you're ready, put your feet in." Without another word he sank the rest of the way into the tub, lounging back against the edges and spreading out his limbs. He gave her a slight, taunting smile that made her want to hit him.

God she hated him.

They sat like that for several minutes. Jude tensed on the edge and Cardan humming to himself and splashing the water like a child. It was grating on Jude's nerves. Finally, just to see if it'd shut him up, Jude put her first foot into the water.

Despite the warmth of it, she felt ice spread through her veins. Before she could panic-- pull back, do anything--Cardan's hand was on her calf. A gentle, present reminder that he was there. He wasn't holding her in place but she was frozen nonetheless.

"It's okay," he whispered. She put another foot into the tub and felt the room spin beneath her. "It's okay," Cardan said again. "You're safe, Jude."

But she couldn't move. Instead she sat there with her feet in the water while Cardan ran his fingers along her legs, quietly telling her that she was safe and it was okay and he was right here he was right here he was right here.

She worked up the courage to kneel into the water--and found she couldn't breathe, she was drowning, she was drowning, she was--

"It's okay, Jude." Cardan sat up more in the water and grabbed for her hands while she hyperventilated. "Do you want to get out?"

She shook her head. She could do this. She had to do this.

She sat down, feeling the water rise up to her chest. Her chest that felt too tight, that felt too cold, that pounded as her heart beat out the rhythm of her fear. She closed her eyes tight trying to remember how to breath and trying to listen to cardan as he spoke softly and held her hands and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

Slowly, so slowly, she began to relax. She opened her eyes to find those dark ones she loved so much looking back at her. In them she found concern and love and… safety.

She was safe.

Turning around so her back was to him, she leaned back into his chest. His arms went around her, holding her gently in place. And as he softly kissed her neck, the rest of the tension left her body.

She was safe.

-----

oof okay I'm sorry if this sucked this is my first jurdan fic. actually it's my first real fanfic bc I usually just write headcanons so yikes sorry I can't write. I just wanted some soft jurdan and also bc I'm struggling with some of my own trauma i wanted to write about Jude facing some of her own. please enjoy! and I'm still accepting prompts if you wanna leave one in my inbox. I might write headcanons for them or a full fic depending on how much I have to say for the prompt.