#*sigh* they were literally touching each other in almost every scene

[nobie]

Loki and Mobius + touch s2 e1

#*sigh* they were literally touching each other in almost every scene #and i have a feeling their relationship is going nowhere but i'll hold onto this forever #loki spoilers #loki tv spoilers #lokius #loki #mobius m mobius #marvel #mcu #marveledit #mcuedit #lokiedit #lokitvedit #lokitvsource #marveldaily #myedits*

[laughing-with-god]

These Things Take Time (Yandere! Supernatural! Taehyung x Reader)

Synopsis: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

16.5k

Trigger warnings: yandere behavior, psychological gaslighting, violence, gore, some heavy making out, strong language, AFAB reader (she/her) I'm sure I'm missing some but you know me and what I write lol

Authors note: just a real quick thank you to @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop for having beta read and brainstormed with me literally a year ago about this fic that I never published until now.

-----

He passionately thrusted her against the wall, mouthing at her neck while muttering disgusting things that he was going to do to her.

It was foul…

It was taboo…

It was…..

Your fingers paused and hovered over the keyboard, the constant clicking of your writing coming to a sudden halt.

Your eyes scanned the last few lines, lips instinctively mouthing the words and checking the overall flow of the plot.

Your two main characters were about to fuck each other’s brains out after a long ‘will they or won’t they’ that spanned well over a dozen chapters.

There should be a feeling of torture, a feeling of relief, a feeling of frenzied lust that just couldn’t contain itself anymore and combusted within the contents of these pages.

That is what you desperately wanted your loyal readers to experience when they get to this scene.

Yet when reading the long-awaited buildup, you felt nothing.

You cared for every character you created like a mother does their child, them getting their happy endings was just as important to you as it was to them. So why did you feel so numb and dissociated from everything you’ve been typing the past hour?

You released a disillusioned sigh and leaned back into your chair. Your eyes stung from staring at a screen for so long and your limbs ached to be stretched with hours of immobility.

Writer’s block was a bitch.

Unlike other skills, writing was one of the few expertise that working harder at it won’t guarantee a better outcome. You could type away until your fingers were bruised and bloody, but it doesn’t mean anything you wrote would be worth shit. Writing was a talent and it came and went as it pleased. And right now it was gone.

Which left you very depressed and your editor very pissed.

You gave up the fight and reluctantly closed your laptop. Then stood to your full height, to give your back a much-needed stretch.

‘I tried today. And that’s okay. I’ll try again tomorrow.’ You thought to yourself, half heartedly taking your therapist’s advice to acknowledge your efforts and not just the outcomes.

When in a creative slump, it has been said that reading other works can be a source of inspiration. Can’t be a good writer yourself, then go out and read a good writer. With this thought in mind, you slowly exited your office and descended down the stairs.

Last week your mom sent you a book she recommended, and you’ve been so busy trying to finish your own novel that you just tossed it somewhere and haven’t touched or looked for it since. Though, you were almost certain you caught sight of it on the coffee table yesterday.

When you stepped into the living room, you spotted a familiar figure standing by the large bay window.

The sight tugged a small fond smile onto your face.

Taehyung was your boyfriend of six months.

He was strikingly attractive, tall, kind and clearly didn’t know his own worth because not only was he dating you, but he also agreed to move into this secluded farmhouse while you tried to finish your book. He assured that he could use this time and space to focus on his paintings as well, but you knew deep down he just didn’t want to leave you alone out in the middle of nowhere.

Right now only his profile was facing you, his alluring feline eyes staring at the raining scene outside, dark brows furrowed in heavy thought. He looked to be biting on his lower lip, a habit you’ve never seen before, but you supposed you two have only been dating for a few months so there was probably a whole world of little quirks you didn’t know of yet.

The scene was a bit intense, as you weren’t used to your usually cheerful boyfriend looking so ponderous. Yet you shrugged it off and just assumed he was most likely brainstorming his next painting. Taehyung was your first artist boyfriend and your friends did warn you that they could be a bit dramatic.

You quickly surveyed the room and indeed located the book on the coffee table. While reaching for it you called out, “Hey love?”

Taehyung snapped his neck at a speed too fast for your liking, instantly facing you with eyes wide and blown out in what you could only assume was shock.

You giggled, thinking he was too absorbed in his own world that he probably just now noticed your presence.

“I know I said I wanted pasta for dinner but how about we order some chinese instead?” You asked. Taehyung didn’t say anything, eyes still wide in unknown revelation, entirely unmoving. You continued, “This weather makes me not want to do anything, and I know you complain about the delivery time but we could just reheat the food if it gets here cold.”

It seemed like forever but Taehyung eventually nodded.

He then turned to face the window again.

You inwardly sighed and guessed he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of chinese. He always complained that you didn’t take care of yourself and how you needed home cooked meals rather than greasy takeout. But when creatively burnt out like this, you tended to just reach for the doordash because the act of cooking seemed entirely too much for you.

Hoping to butter him up, you tipped toed from behind and wrapped your arms around him. You nuzzled your face into his back and took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of his outrageously expensive cologne. His body seemed to melt into your hold, tense posture suddenly limp and calm.

You reached up and pecked his cheek, grinning when you caught sight of his lips twitching upwards. Harmless manipulation complete, you trudged out the room with a lukewarm “Thanks honey!”

You skipped up the stairs and made a left into a hallway, quickly getting into the bedroom and preparing to plop into the heavenly crumpled mess of sheets and blankets, when an unexpected sound caused you to still.

The front door was opening.

Afraid of a possible home invasion, you rushed out to see what was happening.

The door was wide open and emerging into the home…was Taehyung.

His hair and jacket was drenched from the rain, four or so heaping grocery bags in his hold as he looked up the stairs at you with a tired smile.

“Hey baby, can you give me a hand with some of this? I got some sauce for the pasta and picked up some other stuff we were running low on.”

Time stood still.

Your jaw dropped in bewilderment.

Your mind struggling to process this odd collapse of reality.

The nearest grocery store was, at its quickest, still a twenty-minute drive into town.

There was just no way Taehyung was able to leave and get back in the same time it took for you to get up the stairs and into your room.

No one can be in two places at once.

What the fuck was going on?

You just saw him. You just talked to him. You just smelled him. You just touched him.

Taehyung’s gaze worriedly ran up and down your face, correctly detecting that something was dreadfully wrong. He kicked the door closed behind him and rather ungracefully dropped the bags, hastily stepping over some of the falling items to race up the steps and take you in his hold.

“Y/n? Baby what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen while I was gone?” He fretted.

“I-w-what-you-j-just-living room…” You stammered, not even being able to bring yourself to voice what was happening.

“What? What about the living room? You’re not making any sense.”

You gulped, looking up at him with fear. “T-Tae, I could’ve sworn I just saw you in the living room. I talked to you.”

Your boyfriend’s face dropped.

“Y/n, get in the bedroom and lock the door behind you.”

You irritably huffed while blinking away oncoming tears, realizing Taehyung didn’t quite understand what you were saying. “No! Not like an intruder! It was you.”

“I’m right here Y/n. I just got back from the market. I haven’t been home in the past hour. There’s no way you just saw me in this house.” He slowly explained, as if you were having some mental breakdown and needed to be talked off the ledge.

Your temper rose. “No shit Kim Taehyung! That’s why I’m scared! Do you have a twin brother or something? Or did you come into the living room before going back to the car to get the groceries?”

Taehyung backed away from you, clearly put off by your outburst. “No? First off, you know I’m an only child. Secondly, why would I come in and let you talk to me before going back out in the pouring rain, bring in groceries and then pretend I have no idea what you’re talking about when you said you saw me in the house just now?”

You glared up at him, now feeling foolish for even being scared in the first place of something that most definitely had a logical explanation.

Your boyfriend always had a more playful side than you and this was most likely the first trick he was trying to play in your very young relationship.

“I told you I don’t like pranks, Taehyung. You can pull them on your friends all you want but you promised to never pull one on me.”

He threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m not pranking you! It probably was an intruder who looked kinda like me and instead of letting me go and investigate, you're arguing with me?”

“It wasn’t an intruder! He didn’t take anything!”

Taehyung laughed incredulously, “Great, you're defending some robber over your own boyfriend now? I almost feel jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous over because the guy was you!” You exploded.

“Which isn’t possible!”

“Go look then!” You relented.

Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice. He swiftly ran down the stairs and went through the entire house, searching for an unseen man who managed to trick his girlfriend into thinking he was him.

He found no such person.

It was only while you both wordlessly unpacked the groceries while licking the wounds of your little spat did Taehyung make a point that chilled you to the bone.

“Y/n, when you saw me…how did I look?”

You raised a brow at him. “I don’t know? You looked just fine.”

“Okay…and your working theory is I parked outside and came in, talked to you, then went back out, just to enter through the front again like nothing happened?”

You meekly shrugged, “Yeah I guess that would be a good trick.”

Your clever boyfriend pointed at the window, where it was still raining heavily. “I would've been soaked then, Y/n.”

That was the first incident.

— Dinner that night was a tense affair.

At least until Taehyung solemnly apologized for being so bad at hiding his true identity.

He then fessed up to being the Korean version of The Flash.

Against yourself, you bursted out laughing.

Maybe it was all the anxiety of the day that made you loopy, or your desperate need to just return to normal but you apologized for snapping and blamed your overactive writer's imagination for everything.

Taehyung said it was okay and that you actually looked hot when angry, you knew for a fact you didn’t but took the compliment nonetheless and suggested an early night in.

And just like that your first couple fight was over.

Yet that night when you were in the arms of your slumbering boyfriend, with his peaceful snores rumbling in your ear, all you could think about was the other Taehyung.

You regretfully lied to your boyfriend.

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t your imagination.

You were never the type of writer who got so immersed in your work that you began imagining things and confusing them for reality. If anything, you were too grounded in reality. In addition to this, you highly doubted that multiple weeks of writer’s block would even allow for such a vivid mirage to occur.

And the most damning evidence of all, if it was your imagination…why would your mind conjure up the exact replica of your boyfriend? The very man you live with and see everyday for hours on end? Wouldn’t it be a character from your book? Or at least someone you haven’t seen in a while?

It all didn’t make sense, but you didn’t have enough information to say what it was, you just knew what it wasn’t.

You rolled over and buried your face into Taehyung’s chest, practically praying for the mystery to soon be over and solve itself quickly.

It was most likely the overthinking and looming dark corners of the bedroom, but you began to feel like someone was watching you through the small gap in your ajar bedroom door.

– A few days passed and you have almost forgotten about the incident.

I mean, maybe not entirely but you were at least willing to chalk it up to a freak incident.

Scrolling through some discussion boards online showed that your story was actually pretty tame to what other unexplainable experiences some people have had. At least the other Taehyung didn’t try to scare or hurt you. It just seemed like he was doing his own thing really, like he was lost in his own world staring out that window. Thus you concluded that you weren’t in danger, and it therefore wasn’t worth freaking out about.

Mainly because your editor was on your ass and there was nothing productive about thinking of him when you were already so late on a deadline.

Naturally, you attempted to throw yourself into your writing, which was proving to be as fruitless as ever. Yet you knew giving your editor anything was better than nothing, leading you to sending half-assed drafts to him and enduring long calls about how your writing was okay, but not great.

You and Taehyung have been off too.

There was no more fighting or even words exchanged about the fiasco. However there still was an uneasiness between you two. You doubted that Taehyung believed your imagination excuse, but you also knew that he didn’t trust your original recollection of events either. Your boyfriend sort of walked on eggshells around you, almost as if you’d somehow think he was the imposter whenever he’d step into the room. You would be lying if you said you weren’t a little offended by it.

Luckily, Taehyung was currently immersed with his art, rarely leaving his little workspace. You wished you could say the same but you felt like you were simply writing in circles without actually getting anywhere. It was hard to not be jealous, but at least you were given some space away from him after a rather unresolved fight.

Meanwhile, you were planning to take a day or two off of writing, to just let your mind wander and relax so that maybe the next time you sat behind a laptop you could actually produce something worthwhile.

Of course it would just so happen that it would fall on the very day you get sick.

Waking up that morning you felt feverish and lightheaded, telling yourself that you could just use fifteen more minutes of sleep and you’d probably feel better.

You woke up five hours later; feeling even more feverish, lightheaded, and now nauseous.

You trudged downstairs to the kitchen and popped back some painkillers with a glass of water, already fantasizing about getting back into your warm and comfy bed once again.

Except what could make your bed even warmer and comfier? Taehyung.

Your boyfriend was always the more affectionate one between you two, you often practically had to push him away when you were trying to get work done. But now that you were willingly going to ask for his affection, there was no way he’d let you go uncuddled.

Any awkwardness in the relationship was long forgotten as you stomped towards his workspace, a demand to be held heavy on your tongue. You were too sick and exhausted to try to navigate relationship politics, but the whole point of a boyfriend was that he was supposed to provide attention on demand, right?

You reached his door and feebly knocked, trying to be polite to his artistic process and not just barge in.

You heard some shuffling on the other side and soon enough your boyfriend was in front of you. Taehyung hadn’t shaved his face in days, a faint goatee gracing his already intimidatingly handsome face. His black hair was messy and fluffy, a gold chain gracing his neck and drawing attention to his lack of shirt and gray sweatpants.

He grinned at you, “What’s up baby?”

You pouted up at him, momentarily not even ashamed to resort to such cheap tricks, “I feel sick and want to be cuddled back to sleep.”

“Aww poor thing.” He crooned while leaning against the doorframe. “Why don’t you head back up to bed and I’ll be up as soon as I can? I just finished a sketch and really need to focus on the next few steps before I can quit for the day.”

You huffed, kind of annoyed that he wouldn’t even take a break to hold you.

He rolled his eyes at your reaction, “Don’t look at me like that, honey. When the muse strikes, I gotta paint. Otherwise I don’t know when I’ll get the next chance for inspiration. You understand, right?”

“Yeah, I’m just really crabby and being held sounded really good.”

Taehyung chucked, muttering to himself a “cute” before leaning forward and pecking your lips. “I promise I’ll try to be quick. Go drink some water and wait for me. I’ll bring you some soup when I’m done.”

You just nodded and left him to his work. Instead of the bedroom, your feet somehow led you to the living room.

Maybe you should watch some tv while Taehyung worked? You already slept a lot today and if Taehyung was gonna be in bed with you later, perhaps it was a good idea to stay up for a little bit. Besides, you’ve been avoiding this part of the house ever since the incident and you needed to get comfortable in your own living room eventually.

Such a reminder of that rainy day caused you to cast a wary glance at the bay window, oddly feeling both relief and annoyance that nothing was there.

You plunked down onto the couch and wrapped a throw blanket around you, searching your usual streaming services for some comfort show to watch.

It was halfway through an episode of some show you’ve already watched countless times, when you heard footsteps approaching.

You looked up and saw your boyfriend, looking as cute and messy as before. Except now he held a sheepish smile on his face as he held up a steaming mug of something.

“What’s that?”

He took a seat next to you and gently handed the drink over. “Hot chocolate. I know protocol is tea whenever someone is sick, but I know how much you hate the taste.”

You fondly smiled and took the mug, flustered that he remembered such a minor detail about you. “Thank you love but you didn’t have to. You should be focusing on your work. Don’t let me distract you!”

Taehyung shook his head and threw an arm around you, holding you tight against him. He craned his neck and looked down to you, almost meeting you nose-to nose to connect his gaze with yours. Suddenly a serious expression replaced his formerly sheepish one.

“Actually, I wanted to talk.” He said, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I-I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?”

He licked his lips, “I know we’ve been kinda out-of-sync ever since you said you saw someone and I didn’t believe you. But, it just didn’t make sense. Like, how is that possible? Whatever the case though, I shouldn’t have made you feel like you were going crazy or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “So you believe me then?”

“Yes. I know you wouldn’t lie. I don’t know what happened but…I know you know what you saw.”

A warm feeling spread across your chest, temporarily putting your sickness on the back burner. In truth, you weren't sure if the situation even called for an apology but you felt so pampered that your boyfriend cared enough to. “I-I’m sorry too, Tae. I shouldn’t have assumed you were being mean and pranking me. Snapping at you wasn’t cool.”

Taehyung just shrugged. “Nah, I probably would’ve done the same thing.”

You secretly agreed that you were in the right but still, if he was being a big enough person to say sorry so should you. You turned your attention back to the drink in your hands, taking a sip.

You nearly moaned in pleasure when the flavor graced your taste buds.

“What did you put in this?”

“Oh just some cinnamon and-”

“Ginger.” You interrupted, knowing without a doubt that it was the other spice.

“Yup. Why? Is something wrong?” He asked, probably worried you didn’t like it.

“No! It’s perfect.” You said before gulping down more of the nostalgic hot chocolate. “When I was a kid, I had a babysitter who would make her hot chocolate with cinnamon and ginger. Mrs Fritz was her name, a really kind old lady from down the street. I was her favorite so she made hot chocolate for me all the time and watched me for free whenever my parents went out.”

Taehyung hummed, a small smile on his face as you fondly recalled one of the biggest figures of your childhood. “She must’ve had great taste.”

“Mrs. Fritz had impeccable taste.” You good-naturedly corrected with a giggle. “I miss her. When other kids wouldn’t play with me she would stay inside with me and color or read me these cool stories.”

“I would’ve played with you.” Taehyung grumbled, in all likelihood noting how you grimaced at the memory of not being all too popular as a kid.

“Haha, you definitely wouldn’t have! I was such a dork and actually hated playing outside. Kid me much rather be at home watching some old movies or something. Not to mention I was quite an ugly little girl.” You laughed.

Tae gasped dramatically, “That’s not true! You were adorable!”

“You saw like one picture of me at eight! And my mom did me all up for that picture! Trust me, I didn’t look that good at all.”

Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue further, but realizing you were right he just dropped it with an unconvincing, “Whatever you say.”

“But anyway babe, you really can go back to painting. I don’t want to keep you. If I had any inspiration right now, you wouldn’t be able to tear me away from my laptop.”

His arm tugged you even closer. “Nope, I’m alright where I’m at right now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my sick girlfriend all alone?”

You blushed, logically aware that you could handle yourself but emotionally over the moon that this beautiful man didn’t want you to. Selfishly, you wanted to take advantage of his presence even if it came at the expense of his art progress. So you placed the mostly empty mug on the coffee table, fishing out your phone from your sweatpant pocket and setting it there too.

You then curled up into his side, suddenly feeling so drowsy.

Taehyung held you closer, even playing with your hair as you lost the battle with your increasingly heavy eyelids.

You felt him press his lips against your forehead in a drawn out peck, as his nose ticked the crown of your head. He inhaled deeply, his everlasting love for your shampoo revealing itself once more.

“You okay?” His baritone voice whispered.

“Yeah. I just took some medicine that’s probably making me all sleepy.” You mumbled back.

You didn’t hear anything else, just felt as he rested his head on top of yours, presumably also closing his eyes to rest.

Slowly but surely feeling the mechanisms of your brain shut down, the darkness steadily taking over as the sound of the tv became more and more distant.

A notification from your phone caused you to open a single eye, quickly scanning the screen on the coffee table.

Taebear: Hey almost done over here! Do you mind turning down the TV a bit tho? Kinda distracting :(

Before you can even gasp, the medicine-induced darkness consumed you completely, effectively and brutally knocking you out.

That was the second incident.

–

“So like I was saying, I dumped his ass because what the fuck do you mean you ‘don’t know what we are’? I met his damn parents, Y/n!”

The voice blarred over the phone speaker, as you hummed rather noncommittally. “What a jerk. You can do a whole lot better, Lisa.”

You were in the laundry room, slowly taking clothes out of the dryer and folding them as you spoke on the phone with one of your closest friends. About once a week you two would have a call and catch each other up with your lives. Although, Lisa led a much more interesting life than you and usually had a crazy story to share every week, while you just reacted to it. It was kinda like a one listener podcast, but you didn’t mind as you were always very entertained with her.

“Thank you! I don’t know where I keep finding these guys. You really got lucky with Taehyung, all the other men our age are such assholes.” She groaned.

You wanted to laugh, but at the mention of your boyfriend’s name you froze.

Not catching your silence, Lisa continued, “Anyway, how are you and Taehyung doing? What’s it like to live together only six months into a relationship?”

“Actually…we had our first fight.” You told her. “Maybe. I don’t know. It may not even be considered a fight so much as a disagreement but I’ve been feeling a little awkward.”

“Oooh, what happened?” She didn’t even try to mask her excitement.

“It…I…Something happened and he didnt…I don’t know, Lisa. I’m going to sound crazy but I feel like I’m experiencing a glitch in the matrix or some shit.”

She pushed, “Try me. Remember when I used to be a flat earther? I’ll believe anything.”

Lisa made a good point, she was always down for conspiracies and even proclaimed herself a supernatural expert. So you relented, “Okay. Look, I don’t want you to laugh at me or anything because I’m being completely honest. I’m telling you this because I desperately need theories.”

“I promise I’ll give you a theory! Just get to it!” She barked over the phone, anxiously awaiting your story.

“Um, so earlier this week I went downstairs and saw Taehyung. I talked to him about ordering out instead of cooking, hugged him then went up the stairs. Then not even a second later Taehyung came home with groceries, telling me he wasn’t in the house at all when I said I saw him.” You paused, waiting for her to interject.

“Huh…” She trailed off, stumped herself with what that could mean.

“And yesterday, I went to Tae’s workspace to try to cuddle but he said he needed a bit more time with his painting and then he’d meet me upstairs. I went to the couch to wait and he suddenly came in and apologized for not believing me earlier. We cuddled and talked then…I got a text from Taehyung asking me to turn the tv down because it was distracting him.”

You took a deep breath to calm your rising nerves, not liking how you were managing to scare yourself all over again. “Lisa, how was I in Taehyung's arms when Taehyung wasn’t even in the room with me?”

“How did this other Taehyung act? Was he any different than your actual boyfriend?”

“I mean, the first time he didn’t say a word and I left the room quickly. The second time he was so sweet and…I don’t know. Maybe even nicer than my actual boyfriend but not like suspiciously so.”

“And there’s no difference between him and Taehyung? Same height, voice, birthmarks, everything?”

“Yes.”

A brief silence as she no doubt was working with a theory. “And you’ve never had experiences like this before you moved into that farmhouse?”

“None.”

“Ah-ha! It’s probably a ghost then!” She assured triumphantly.

You, however, weren’t so sure she solved the case. “A ghost that looks exactly like my boyfriend?”

“Well, crazier things have happened. You know, scientists say that each person has around six doppelgangers out there somewhere. What if this ghost was your boyfriend's doppelganger?”

“Still, why would he act like he was my boyfriend? Like, this ghost must have a different name and background than my Taehyung so why does he go along with it whenever I call him Taehyung and treat him like a boyfriend?” You questioned.

“The afterlife can get pretty dull. The ghost is probably just bored and noticed that Taehyung looks alot like him, so he’s using that to his advantage to mess around.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” You grumbled, pissed at the prospect of you being a little plaything to a bored spirit.

“I know babe but ghosts are mostly harmless. If it really starts to bother you, maybe get a medium to move him along or whatever.” Lisa advised.

“Yeah, maybe.” – Mom: Look what I found!

The text came with a video attached, and you clicked it without thinking much.

A chubby little girl of about three to five years of age was badly hiding in a school cubby. Her mini feet sticking out and wiggling as the rest of her body was covered by a hung up winter coat. The cameraman sighed dramatically from behind the scenes, asking loudly, “Oh where could Y/n possibly be?!”

The girl giggled and a new figure slowly snuck into frame, approaching the cubby with a large grin.

The preschool teacher suddenly reached into the cubby and snatched the girl up, holding her up in the air as if the toddler was a prize of some sort. “Gotcha!”

The mini version of you laughed in her hold, kicking the air in glee. “Miss Addison you found me! You’ll find me anywhere, right?”

The young teacher nodded as she placed you on your feet. “Of course! I have a really good Y/n sense! I’ll find you anywhere.”

“Even the moon?” Innocent you asked, most likely just having learned about the star.

“Yes, I’ll find you on the moon if I have to!” Miss Addison chuckled.

The video ended and you went to type your mom a half-hearted reply, mostly inquiring how she still even had that clip after all these years.

While doing so, you caught yourself wishing that you could show this to Taehyung and prove that you were indeed not the best company as a child, your teacher had to play hide-and-seek with you because no one else would.

Yet, it wasn’t Taehyung you had that particular conversation with. Rather other Taehyung.

Or as you and Lisa had nicknamed; ghost Taehyung.

You failed to tell your boyfriend about the second incident. He woke you up an hour or so later with his promised bowl of soup, softly scolding you for never turning down the tv.

Deep inside you were sure that he was already convinced you were crazy from the first time his replica showed up. You didn’t seek to push that theory even further. Mostly because you didn’t want him to admit you to a psych ward, but also because of another glaring reason. The first time you were sure that Taehyung himself was messing with you somehow, which prompted you to accuse him, but this time around you knew for a fact he was innocent.

Instinctively, you didn’t feel threatened by the doppelganger spirit. If anything you sorta wished he’d pop up again with a ginger-cinnamon hot chocolate. It was kinda weird that he was acting like your boyfriend when he wasn’t, but he didn’t try to be too intimate with you or anything. The lease on the farmhouse was only twelve months so you could put up with a friendly ghost for a while if need be.

The only creepy thing was that you weren’t sure how you were going to tell if you were talking to the real Taehyung or not. Thankfully, the sick day incident seemed to be the last one, the last few days being almost eerily mundane.

The door to your bedroom suddenly slammed open, revealing your beaming boyfriend.

He held up a champagne bottle with one hand and two glasses in the other. “Guess what just happened!”

You sat up in bed and placed your phone on the nightstand as he giddily approached you. “What? Are we celebrating something?”

“Only the Bauhaus Gallery agreeing to schedule a showing for my latest collection!”

You jumped up in surprise, instantly wrapping your arms around him and plastering his face with kisses. “Oh my god! Tae! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you! When is it?!”

“Next Friday at eight.” He chuckled through your kisses, fully basking in your attention.

The Bauhaus gallery was an uppity German gallery in town that apparently served as a who's who in the world of painting. Personally, you didn’t get what the big deal was, but Taehyung made it one of his career goals to have a show there. He always said that his career would really take off if he could showcase his work at such a place.

You pulled back and began thinking out loud as Taehyung worked on the bottle, “Wow, okay! I need to get a dress. And we should invite some friends to support you. Oh! Namjoon and his wife would probably try to buy a painting so we should see if they’re free-”

Taehyung cut you off with the resounding pop of the bottle, “Yeah yeah, we can plan that all out later. Right now I just wanna celebrate with my pretty girlfriend please.”

You quieted down and held the glasses as he poured. He then placed the bottle aside, took a glass and held it up for you to clink. You did so while your boyfriend declared, “To my collection and girlfriend; both beautiful and priceless!”

“You better announce that again at the afterparty!” You laughed, covering your blush.

You both finished the drinks rather quickly, him with a refreshing “ahh” and you with a cringe. Champagne really was overrated in your opinion, having no idea why it was the token celebratory drink. The glasses were then shoved somewhere aside, courtesy of Tae.

You laid back down in the bed, Taehyung unhurriedly following suit and even climbing on top of you at a leisurely pace.

Taehyung’s face was now inches away from yours, his every breath tickling your skin. His previous mood of joy shifted into something more…sultry. Cat eyes darkened, fully taking you in with a steadily growing smirk. The artist licked this bottom lip in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it speed, before quirking one brow up in faux inquiry. His voice was low and husky, purring into your ears, “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve fucked.”

You snorted, “Gee, that’s hard to believe when you put me in the mood like that.”

“You like a man who's upfront.” He shrugged, not wasting a second more as he leaned down to slowly melt his lips against yours.

The intimate sensation felt almost foreign, the last few days having only been filled with obligatory pecks due to you two being so caught up in your work. You almost forgot how talented he was at making you feel special.

You kissed back just as slowly, feeling the intensity of his lips and taking the time to reacquaint yourself with them. It was gentle, deep, and meaningful. He kissed you gingerly, carefully, but that’s not what you wanted. Not after all this time. Pent-up sexual frustration caused you to knot your fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against you.

Taehyung groaned softly, low in his throat while encircling you in his arms to gather you against him. You two rolled over in the bed, tangled in the sheets, still locked at the lips.

His tongue slips into your mouth, tender but demanding. You swirl your tongue against his, moaning into his mouth as his hands snuck up to twist in your hair and grip you impossibly closer. Taehyung’s slight stubble prickles you, but somehow the extra sensation just excites you even more. Your boyfriend's lips pull back and meet their ultimate home at your neck, him now mouthing fervently at the sensitive nerves there as you gasped for air.

As you felt hotter and hotter, Taehyung answered your unsaid prayer and positioned his thigh between your legs, obscenely brushing against the place you needed him most. Knowing you like the back of his hand, he purposefully tensed his thigh as you not-so-subtly grinded against it, all the while he sucked and nibbled at the spot just below your ear.

A tug at your clothes.

Softly biting your earlobe, he whispered, “Be a good girl for me and take this shit off.”

Just when you were about to oblige, an unexpected sound cut through all the haze and caused you both to freeze.

It sounded like a…bang?

From somewhere deep within the house.

It was so loud and shrill, it effortlessly echoed off the walls of your humble bedroom. If you had to describe it, it was as if someone had just thrown a bowling ball with all their might.

Undoubtedly snapping into protector mode, Taehyung immediately jumped off of you and reached under the bed to retrieve a metal baseball bat.

“Stay here.” He ordered, already marching out the door before you could even protest.

You fearfully obeyed, reaching for your phone in case 911 had to be called.

Your once warm and flushed body was now icy with panic. Sitting upright in the bed, you strained your ears for any idea of what was occurring downstairs.

But alas, the house remained freakily silent. Almost as if that brutal sound was in your head and nothing more.

This did nothing to help your anxiety, a cold sweat quickly forming.

Minutes passed, you waited with bated breath for something. Anything.

But nothing ever came.

Your worry grew tenfold.

The longer Taehyung was away, the more you felt weighed down with dread, heart nearly in your throat.

‘What was happening downstairs? Was Taehyung okay? Did he find something? If there was a struggle, surely you would’ve heard it by now, right?’

Then ultimately, as the seconds ticked on, ‘Was your boyfriend going to come back?’

At the ten-minute mark, you made your decision.

Now concerned for your boyfriend’s safety, you sprung out of bed and ran out of the room. Your body purposefully moving too fast for your mind to catch up and halt your movements in the name of self-preservation.

“Taehyung?!” You desperately called out as you practically plummeted down the stairs.

“In here!” A croaky voice answered, sounding like your boyfriend but oddly…defeated?

You correctly traced the voice to his workroom, stepping into the space and seeing a scene that swiftly broke your heart, effectively replacing all your fright with woe.

Taehyung was on his knees in front of an easel, head bowed down.

The easel held a half-done canvas.

It was a sketch of two people, a man and a woman that closely resembled you and Taehyung.

It was partly painted, the scene depicting a warm sunny day at the park that looked alot like where Taehyung had taken you for a picnic and officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You were in Taehyung’s arms, kissing his cheek as he smiled his signature box-smile. You could recall that precise moment easily, you had just said yes to being his and sheepishly pecked his cheek, embarrassed by the old man on the bench a few feet away that eyed you two like a hawk.

It was a wonderful piece of unfinished art, not only due to the sentimental value but also the artistry and time that clearly went into it.

If only there weren't angry red sloshes of paint that cut through it, ruining the picture and turning it into something that looked like a horrible bloody mess of goo and not the romantic day it was.

“I-I was going to gift this to you….on our seventh month.” Taehyung’s voice was watery.

You didn’t even know what to say.

All of his hard work and thought was simply…gone. Erased. Ruined.

It would’ve been the equivalent of someone breaking into your laptop and deleting your entire novel’s draft. What would you even do? If roles were reversed, would there even be a way for Taehyung to console you? To make matters worse, it was his gift of love to you. He didn’t make that painting for himself, a buyer, or a collection…he made it for you.

Your empathy made you almost cry for him, but you knew that would be the last thing he’d want to see right now. His guilt would only grow.

You walked further into the room and got on your knees beside him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you cradled his head in the nook between your head and shoulder while rocking the two of you. “Tae baby, I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, although you felt wet teardrops on your skin.

“Who would do this? It doesn’t make sense why someone would break in, take nothing and just destroy my gift?”

You didn’t know either, but you wanted to make him feel better. “Listen, I think it was the perfect gift. It’s really the thought that counts and I’m just happy that you even thought to make me something like that. Especially in the middle of working on your own collection, it must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung pulled back, regarding you with a tearful but hopeful gaze. “Really?”

“Of course! I was literally going to just get you a watch or something. That gift kinda would have made me look bad.” You attempted to joke.

He shakily smiled, even chuckling a bit before pulling back entirely and standing to his full height. Tae then held a hand out for you, pulling you up as well.

Not wanting to be in the room anymore with that awful mess, you gradually pushed him towards the door, eventually up the stairs and into your bedroom.

You both sat on the bed, him with his head in his hands and you awkwardly suggesting yet another early night in.

But instead of agreeing and attempting to join you under the covers, Taehyung continued to sit almost painfully still at the edge of your bed.

Then, he spoke.

“Y/n, you were lying when you said that guy was probably just a figment of your imagination.”

It wasn’t a question.

He knew.

He believed you now.

–

It was now the official opinion of the house that a ghost was indeed roaming around somewhere.

You wanted to pat yourself on the back because truly, your taste in men was superior.

Taehyung wasn’t one of those horror movie boyfriends that was convinced every unexplainable occurrence must’ve had a logical explanation. It only took that one experience for the artist to admit that something weird was going on, and although he never saw the ghost himself, Taehyung believed you when you said it looked exactly like him.

You were happy that you two were on the same page…well, mostly.

Taehyung reasoned that the lookalike ghost must’ve been the one to ruin his painting.

You don’t know why, but somewhere deep within, that accusation just didn’t feel right. Without thinking much, you had told your boyfriend that destroying his gift didn’t seem like something ghost Tae would do.

Obviously Taehyung was bewildered at your sudden defense of the spirit’s character and demanded to know how you could be so sure that it wasn’t him.

Feeling that your hand was forced, you fessed up to the second incident in which you ran into the other Taehyung. You explained that he was sweet, brought you hot chocolate and even held you as you fell asleep. It was only after the real Taehyung texted you that you realized it wasn’t your boyfriend, but by then it was too late.

Your boyfriend was understandably furious.

For one, you never told him that you were cuddled and taken care of by another man, dead or otherwise. And secondly, this spirit seemed to be taking too much of a liking to you. The artist was a weird mixture of jealous and protective, following you around the house and barely leaving you alone in fear that his replica would show up and snatch you away.

You thought he was overreacting, but Taehyung's determination to get rid of the ghost only grew as the days passed.

One day you took a break from writing and went downstairs to refresh your coffee, when you paused at the sight of your boyfriend waving an odd burning stick around the living room in a fashion that somehow made sense to him.

“Sage cleanses the home of negative energy and basically tells unwanted spirits to fuck off.” He told you as if you were the idiot and not him- wildly thrashing his arm around in a puff of smoke and demanding that his evil ghost twin left the premises immediately.

You shrugged, “Just don’t set off the smoke detector, please.”

The next day, Taehyung informed you over dinner that he called a security camera company and had ordered a set to be installed in your home.

“Don’t you think that’s kinda a big fucking thing to not run by me?”

“I’m sorry baby, but I knew you wouldn’t have agreed.” He apologized without seeming even the tiniest bit apologetic.

“If you knew I wouldn’t have wanted it then why do it anyway?!”

“Because as the man of the house it’s my job to protect us and I would like to witness everything that’s going on. Next time he comes out and tries to touch you, I will be able to see it from my phone and confront him.” He then reached for his water and took a self righteous sip before muttering under his breath, “That is if the sage didn’t kick him out already.”

“Man of the house?!” You echoed incredulously. “You call twirling around with some burning twigs and yelling at a harmless ghost being the man of the house?”

“He’s not harmless! Why are you so convinced that it’s just a casper that we’re dealing with?!”

You opened your mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when you realized you didn’t really have any reason to believe he wasn’t dangerous. So you just focused on the main glaring issue, “Nevermind that. I just don’t like how you made a big decision without telling me. Are we not equal in this relationship? It wasn’t even worth consulting me about?”

Taehyung didn’t say anything.

It would seem that he understood your point, but was stubbornly holding onto his just a tad more.

Appetite ruined, you stormed away in a display of vexation.

Not wanting to go to sleep beside him either, you stayed all night in your office and tried to just focus on editing the latest version of your draft.

Somewhere along the way, you managed to fall asleep on the keyboard.

You blearily awoke hours later to the sound of the door firmly shutting.

Groggily you sat up and twisted to see if anyone else was in the room with you, all the while rubbing off the key imprints on your cheek and leftover drool.

No one was there.

When you turned your attention back to the desk, you softly gasped in surprise.

A plate of grilled cheese sat there, still hot.

Alongside it was a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

One sip and you instantly recognized the ginger-cinnamon.

It wasn’t your boyfriend who left this.

The sage didn’t work.

–

Ralph was a man of about fifty years of age.

Tall, lumbering, calloused and not necessarily easy on the eyes, he shifted awkwardly at the entrance of your delicate farmhouse as Taehyung listed off the places in the home that he’d like covered.

Ralph was to set up the cameras while you and your boyfriend went out for a quick errand.

The gallery showing was tomorrow, and so was the little afterparty that you had arranged to take place. You did so without really realizing all that you would need for hosting. The guest list was an intimate circle of seven, but given you and Taehyung were running out of groceries for even just the two of you, you figured a trip to the market was needed to properly prepare.

You rolled your eyes and waited for your boyfriend to finish his little pep talk, sighing in relief when Ralph was finally free to disappear into the living room with his bag of tools.

“Ready?” You asked Taehyung, not really waiting for an answer as you stomped past him and out the door.

He followed you wordlessly to the car.

The ride into town was stiff and awkward, neither one of you saying anything and music not even playing in the background as Taehyung drove.

You both were still angry at each other.

Well, more like you were angry at him and he was correctly trying to not poke the bear by instigating useless chatter.

The cameras were overkill in your opinion and a giant waste of money. You both were artists, which means a severe lack of steady income. You needed to be smart with what you threw cash at because no one knew if your next book or his next painting would even sell. Nothing was ever guaranteed.

You felt for him that his gift was wrecked, but you weren’t lying when you said that the thought was all that really mattered to you. You genuinely didn’t care either way, it would’ve been nice to have the painting, but it was just as nice to know that he was painting one for you.

If you were a betting woman, you would bet that this was more about Taehyung’s unfounded jealousy than anything else. Usually you would find harmless jealousy kind of attractive, but not when it went into installing cameras into your home at the “low” price of a couple hundred dollars.

You thought of this in a quiet rage as Taehyung pulled into the grocery store.

He parked, you both got out and walked inside before grabbing a cart.

“Let’s split up.” You said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“Fine. What do you want me to get?”

“Get the drinks. They’re mainly your friends so you’d know what they’d like more than me. I’ll get some stuff for a charcuterie board.” You ordered, just wanting to get back home as soon as possible

He nodded and swiftly went over to the alcohol section as you made way into the food aisles.

You were looking at the different types of crackers and wondering what the fuck the difference was when a sudden call of your name took your attention.

“Y/n?”

The voice was light and airy, tone warm and nostalgic to the ears.

No way.

It can’t be…

You swirled around to face the owner, nearly choking on your spit when you realized your suspicions were correct.

Park Jimin was as gorgeous as ever. The cherub face was just as you recalled, somehow both ruggedly handsome and softly docile. His eyes crinkled behind a pearly smile, a small hand coming up to swiftly brush through his dyed blonde hair as he approached you.

“I thought that was you.” He chuckled. “How have you been? It’s been so long.”

You managed a wry smile.

Jimin was once your college boyfriend of one year, five months, and eight days.

But hey, who was counting?

“I’m doing okay.” You choked out, not liking how he quickly frowned at your strained tone. If there was one man you could never lie to, it was Jimin. “How about yourself? Did you open up that studio you always wanted?”

The truth was you knew he did. Before meeting and dating Taehyung, you were guilty of occasionally checking his social media. It simply couldn’t be helped. Jimin was the longest relationship you ever had. The first man you ever really loved. And your first ever heartbreak.

“Um, yeah I did! I heard you published your first book last year. I bought a few copies myself…” he trailed off sheepishly, suddenly avoiding eye contact. “It uh, was really well written. Are you um, working on anything now?”

You bit your lip, not sure how you felt about the man you were once wildly in love with reading your novel after years of not talking. Much less buying more than one copy to support you. “Y-Yes I’m writing my second book.”

He nodded, a proud expression on his face as he pursed his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry this is…weird.” He finally huffed. “I really didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

You sighed with some relief, thankful he felt the same way. “Same. After you said you wanted to date other people I really didn’t expect to say another word to you like, ever.”

Jimin laughed, “Haha, what? Your memory continues to suck, Y/n. If anything it was you who ghosted-”

“Y/n.”

A much deeper voice cut through the air, bringing all the attention to a new figure descending upon the scene.

Taehyung strode up from behind you, placing an arm around you and regarding the other man with a brooding look of regard.

“Whose this?” Your boyfriend asked, purposefully deepening his already deep voice.

You inwardly rolled your eyes, noting how the artist was practically puffing his chest and glowering at the much shorter man.

“Taehyung, this is my old friend Jimin. Jimin, this is my boyfriend Taehyung.”

The two stiffly nodded at each other, you dodging the questioning look Jimin secretly shot at you for being described as ‘an old friend’.

A pregnant pause hung in the air.

“So…how long have you two been together?”

Before either you or your boyfriend could answer, a pretty lady suddenly skipped into the aisle and grasped onto Jimin’s arm.

“Babe, I can’t find the oat milk! I thought you said- Oh hello!” She just now noticed you and Taehyung, smiling politely and not-so-subtly nudging at Jimin to introduce her.

“Oh, um, this is Molly.”

“His girlfriend! And you two are?”

“I’m Y/n and this is my boyfriend Taehyung.” You introduced. “Jimin and I went to school together.”

“Really? I never get to meet any of Jimin’s old friends! We should have a double date or something!” Molly was an over the top girl, your ears almost ringing at the volume she exuded. But she seemed nice, so you smiled warmly at her and vaguely agreed.

Another brief, awkward and only slightly painful silence.

“Actually…” You trailed off in thought, an idea forming in your head but you didn’t know if it was a good one. Yet it was too late. Before you could even backtrack, all three sets of eyes were on you, eagerly waiting for you to finish the thought. “…what are you two doing tomorrow night?”

“Was just gonna drag Jiminnie to see this new movie! We can totally blow it off though!”

“Well, my boyfriend is a really talented artist and he has a showing tomorrow night. We’d love it if you two could make it.”

You felt Taehyung stiffen beside you, but you paid it no mind.

From what you understood about showings the more people, the more eyes, the better. It was harmless, wasn’t it? Jimin bought multiple copies of your book, and you’d invite him to a gallery showing to please his over hyper girlfriend.

Even, right?

Molly beamed, asking for your number to exchange the details.

You did so, pretending not to notice how both Jimin and Taehyung bore their stares into you.

When finished, you waved goodbye to the couple as they made their way to the dairy section. You and Taehyung then continued your own shopping in a rushed manner- your boyfriend grumbling about having to get back in time for the cameras.

The ride home was a bit more talkative, with Taehyung asking how you knew of Jimin and what made you two friends. You answered the questions rather honestly, just leaving out the parts about how your friendship blossomed into something more.

You weren’t exactly trying to be deceitful. It was just that he was under a lot of stress and paranoia the last few days, you didn’t want to push his poor nerves any further. If he was willing to set up a bunch of cameras to keep some ghost away from you, you didn’t want to push your luck by mentioning that Jimin was your ex boyfriend and longest relationship.

Besides, it wasn’t like Jimin was any kind of threat. You would never entertain the idea of going back to the guy who dumped you. He also now had Molly, so clearly you both moved on.

Taehyung pulled the car into the driveway, asking if you could handle the few bags as he went in to talk to Ralph and sort out the last few steps of installation. You agreed, watching him jog into the home as you gathered all the groceries and took your time to get inside.

You beelined straight to the kitchen with the newly bought food, raising your brows when you saw Taehyung staring at something intently on the counter.

“What is it?”

Taehyung didn’t answer.

You walked up behind him and stood on your tippy toes to spot over his shoulder what he was looking at.

It was a note, in messy and hurried handwriting.

“Sorry but the cameras could not have been installed. It won’t work here. -Ralph.”

–

If there was any man on top of the world tonight- his name was Kim Taehyung.

The Bauhaus gallery was swarmed with countless people, all clamoring to gaze upon the latest Kim collection and ponder the intricate meanings behind each piece. They wore luxury clothes and drank fancy wine that you couldn’t even pronounce, their tax bracket clearly a couple pegs above yours. There was of course some idle chatter, almost every corner of the building being filled with some pretentious snob rambling about the brush strokes, artistic style and commentary your boyfriend was allegedly trying to make with his art.

Such a crowd was not something you were accustomed to.

Thus you clung to Lisa, both idly sipping at wine and watching your boyfriend from afar as he charmingly answered questions.

“You know, he’s going to make thousands of dollars tonight.” Lisa thought out loud. “These rich types will outbid each other like crazy.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. You were happy for him, and knew he deserved it but you would be lying if you said he wasn’t in the doghouse.

“Still mad huh?” Lisa correctly assumed, reading your expression. “What happened after the camera dude disappeared?”

“Taehyung was really upset and called the company to demand his money back. They refunded him entirely, apologized and even sent someone to get the company van. I guess the Ralph dude was an alcoholic and everyone just kinda accepts that he skipped town.” You explained. “I tried to calm him down but he sorta snapped at me about how I never even wanted the cameras so I was probably just loving it all.”

Lisa lowly whistled, “Damn. Well, he probably snapped about the cameras but I promise you it wasn’t just about that.”

“What do you mean?”

“You invited your ex to his showing.” Lisa lectured, as if you were a child who didn’t even understand what you did wrong.

You stuttered, “B-But he doesn’t know Jimin is an ex! I told him he was just an old friend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/n of course he would see right through that. There's always going to be chemistry between Jimin and you, he probably picked up on it and is aware you’re not telling the complete truth about what you two were.”

“He’s just overly jealous. He wants to fight our ghost too. At this point, every man is a threat to him.”

At the mention of your ghost, Lisa’s eyes practically sparkled. “Oh I can’t wait to go back to your place! I want to feel the haunted energy for myself.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “It’s just like any other home, Lisa.”

“That’s because you don’t have a psychic sense to save your life, Y/n.”

You didn’t know whether or not to be offended by that, so you decided to distract yourself by scanning the room for your boyfriend’s invited friends.

Kim Namjoon was an old boss of Taehyung that remained good friends with the artist even after he dumped his job to take up painting full time. Currently, he and his wife Jennifer were talking rather seriously to a thin-lipped curator, most likely about purchasing one of the artworks displayed.

Right across from where you and Lisa stood, Taehyung was conversing with his former coworkers; Jin and Hoseok. They appeared to be laughing about something, their lightheartedness standing out in the overly serious room of people.

If you craned your neck a little to the left, you could spot Yoongi and Jungkook hiding in a corner away from everyone else, almost perfectly mimicking you and your close friend. They both nursed their drinks quietly, occasionally sharing words but mainly just waiting out this event.

You always kind of thought that Lisa and Jungkook would make a good pairing if properly introduced and pushed. So you turned to your friend and was just about to suggest you guys walk over, when she made a face at something behind you.

“Uh oh, here comes the ex.” She mumbled.

You turned around to indeed see Jimin and Molly approaching.

Jimin wore a suit, dress shirt unbuttoned at the top to reveal some of his sun kissed chest. His blonde hair was properly done this time, brushed to the side and back to fully expose his forehead. He raised a hand and waved, rings catching the light and nearly blinding you in the process.

Beside him, Molly looked as pretty as ever in a blue sweetheart dress that complimented her figure. Yet, she looked rather irritated. She attempted to give you a smile in greeting, but it looked more like a grimace.

Jimin spoke first, “Hey, I’m so sorry we’re late. I’m hoping we didn’t miss too much?”

You wanted to be annoyed but without meaning to, a giggle escaped you.

“Things really don’t change.” You told Jimin, a knowing look simmering in your eyes. While dating, you guys were often the couple that showed up late to any event. Most people assumed that it was your doing because you were the girl, when in all actuality it was Jimin.

Jimin shamelessly grinned, “I’ve gotten better, I swear.”

You didn’t believe it for a second and he knew it.

You both shared a laugh, staring at each other fondly like old friends reliving the old times.

It was hard to believe that you were joking with the man you once thought you’d never get over or forgive. Countless nights were spent eating your feelings, hysterically crying and obsessing over all the videos or pictures you couldn’t bring yourself to delete.

But there are some people in life that as soon as they come back, it’s like they never left.

And it was almost as if Jimin never left.

You two continued to gaze into each other, lost in your own comfortable bubble when a sudden throat clearing broke the haze.

“Um, actually the showing is almost over.” Lisa informed, her and Molly visibly looking left out of the nostalgia.

Your ex had the decency to look guilty. “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Maybe we can all just get drinks? There’s a nice bar two blocks down. I can buy a round for everyone?”

“That’s sweet but we have a little after party planned back at my place. I live kind of out of town though, so it’s okay if you can’t make it.”

“No! We can make it! What's the address?” Jimin seemed eager.

You told him, him pulling out his phone to save it into his gps system.

Molly was silent all this time, which was kind of worrying as your first meeting with her led you to believe she was the bubbly type. Now that you mentioned it, it looked like she was avoiding looking at either you or her boyfriend, focusing on a spot on the wall somewhere behind you.

You opened your mouth to maybe ask if she was alright, but quickly shut it when you realized that could be overstepping some boundary.

Fortunately, Lisa seemed to have enough of this entire interaction and grabbed your arm while saying, “Me and Y/n were just going to go to the restroom! Please take a good look around and enjoy her boyfriend’s work! See you guys at the after party!”

Your friend then swiftly dragged you away, barely leaving you enough time to smile apologetically at the couple.

When you both entered the restroom, Lisa simply marched up to the sink and began fixing invisible smudges in her makeup as you shifted awkwardly beside her.

“So…” She started, looking you up and down in the mirror. “Please tell me you know Jimin is still in love with you.”

“W-What?! No way!” You spluttered.

“Y/n it’s so obvious. I actually felt bad for his girlfriend. He couldn’t take his eyes off you.” She rolled her eyes, almost disappointed in your lack of awareness.

“It’s just been forever. It’s hard to not hyperfocus on eachother, we’ve both changed so much. Also, why would the guy who dumped me out of nowhere still be in love with me?”

She released a deep sigh, “He knows he made the shittiest mistake of his life and is now regretting it when seeing you and your talented boyfriend doing so well.”

You chuckled at the thought of someone looking at your relationship and being jealous.

“Listen, just remember tonight is Taehyung’s night and fighting or not, he’s still a wonderful boyfriend overall. And Jimin is your ex who broke your heart. Inviting him to your place after this might’ve been too much. I suggest you keep your distance.”

“Lisa, thanks for the advice but I honestly was just being friendly. He seemed sorry that he missed most of the showing. Besides, I’m going to be too busy hosting to have a deep heart to heart with him or anything.” You explained, a little offended that she thought you were going to play part in some dramatic reconciliation.

A sudden announcement echoed outside the restroom doors, your ears straining to hear a gallery worker asking everyone to gather on the main floor for the artist’s speech and thus the final part of the night.

Saying nothing more, Lisa and you made your exit to join the audience.

– The clock was nearing midnight.

Your usually quiet farmhouse of a home was not at all quiet.

Your boyfriend's friends were merrily talking and drinking, once in a while their masculine laughs would sync up and reverberate through the halls. They all conversed and lounged in the living room, the largest part of the house that could fit all of them comfortably. Yet, you and Lisa stayed in the kitchen, making the drinks and finger foods, as you indulged in harmless girl talk.

“The one with tattoos is so hot, Y/n. Please tell me he’s single!”

“Jungkook? I’m pretty sure he is. Taehyung told me that Namjoon is the only other one in the friend group that’s in a relationship.”

“Okay, so far so good.” She paused to pop a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, humming in thought. “What’s his type though? Like, would I have to make the first move? Does he like a straightforward girl? Because he hasn’t so much as looked at me tonight.”

“I’ve only met Taehyung’s friends once before so I don’t know their types or anything. I do think Jungkook looks a lot manlier than he actually is. He’s very kind but shy so you’ll have to talk to him first.” You explained while opening another bottle of wine for the two of you.

Lisa frowned at the thought, not used to being the one that had to chase.

You poured two glasses, handing her one with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I can introduce you two. It’s kind of a good thing he’s avoiding you like the plague, Tae once said he only acts like that with pretty girls.”

Your friend lit up like the fourth of july.

“Hey babe!” A familiar deep voice called out.

You looked around to see your boyfriend stepping into the kitchen, a buzzed smile on his face and a slightly glazed film over his eyes.

Moments like these made you realize how much of a lightweight your boyfriend was. It only took one or two drinks for him to get tipsy. But it was still his night and he was already home amongst loved ones, so all you could do is smile endearingly at his slightly intoxicated self.

“Yes, handsome?”

His boxy grin grew, “The boys want more beer.”

“Already?! I put out a twelve pack! People need to be able to drive home, ya know!”

He laughed, “Baby, my friends can drink a gallon each and still be able to drive home with their eyes closed if need be.”

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

He nodded in thanks, turning his back to presumably go to the basement and retrieve the drinks.

Lisa waited for him to get fully out of earshot before leaning over and dramatically whispering, “How is Jimin and that Molly girl doing?”

You shrugged, “Last time I was in there, Hoseok was making conversation with Jimin and Molly was all over Yoongi.”

“Damn, trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t seem too bothered and she seemed a little drunk. She might just get overly friendly when she drinks.”

“And you’re still convinced that he’s over you?”

You rolled your eyes but ultimately stayed silent, aware that the couple was acting sorta strange but also not so sure that you were the cause. You took your wine in one hand and a plate of appetizers in the other, motioning for Lisa to grab the rest and follow you.

When you both entered the living room, you were thrilled to spot Jungkook sitting alone on one of the loveseats. You quickly set the food down and pulled Lisa along with you, approaching him with a friendly smile meant to put him at ease. Considering the way his eyes widened at the sight of your friend, you didn’t know how successful you were.

“Hey Jungkook, it’s been a while!” You greeted.

“Y-Yeah it has been. How’s your erm, book going?”

“It’s doing okay, thanks for asking. Have you met my friend, Lisa?”

He briefly scanned your friend, nervously gulping before saying quietly, “…No I haven't.”

“Oh well, Lisa was just saying how much she liked your tattoos.” You nudged her, prompting her to say something.

She just nodded in agreement, suddenly meek.

He blushed, “Thank you.”

“Actually, Lisa, weren't you saying that you were thinking of getting a tattoo?” You pretended to think out loud, as if you weren’t outright playing them. You didn’t wait for her to answer the rhetorical question, “Jungkook, don’t you do tattoos now?”

Now on a topic of interest he was for sure confident in, Jungkook practically jumped in his seat, “Yeah! I do! I’ve only tatted myself and some friends but I hope to work on more people.”

You watched with a smirk as Lisa moved to sit next to Jungkook, her now explaining what she’d like done and Jungkook asking questions about placement, size and color.

You felt sure enough in them to leave them alone, now inhabiting your little corner as you finished your wine while taking in the scene.

Yoongi and Molly stood by the window, and were obviously the most inebriated. He was the type to ramble pointlessly when tipsy, and she giggled at every little thing he said, playfully shoving his shoulder once in a while. You knew for a fact that Yoongi was too deep in his own self-epiphanes to notice her bad flirting, either that or he was just trying to talk to anyone who was willing to listen.

Namjoon and Jennifer were sitting on the couch and talking to Jin, laughing at whatever odd impression he was attempting. Beside them on the loveseat, Hoseok was politely nodding along to small talk from Jimin. Being one of the friendliest and most calming of the group, it made sense that Hoseok was the one trying to make your ex boyfriend feel included.

Content to just watch your guests for a while, you stood by your lonesome and slowly sipped at the remnants of your wine.

Playing host wasn’t exactly your forte, so you were enjoying the little lull while it lasted. Unlike your boyfriend, your social battery tended to max out at the two-hour mark when in group settings.

And as much as you loved the people in your home (with maybe the exception of your ex and his girlfriend), you couldn’t wait for them to get out so you could take a long, hot shower and head to bed.

The stress of the last few days was really tiring you, and you just knew that as soon as the excitement of the showing and sold paintings wore off, Taehyung was going to continue his spat with you about the cameras.

When you and Jimin dated, you two were always on the same page. Fights very rarely happened. And Jimin was such a people pleaser that if literally anything slightly upset you, he would practically fall over himself to make you smile again.

Taehyung was the first boyfriend to genuinely pick a fight with you, being more stubborn than you about matters you didn’t necessarily want to back down from either. Your relationship conflict resolution skills were being tested, and you just didn’t have the patience or experience to keep fighting much longer. You would call a truce or some type of compromise, if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way to really keep both of you happy.

A few minutes passed as you pondered this to yourself.

Seemingly materializing out of nowhere, a mysterious arm wrapped around your waist.

The suddenness of it all caused you to jump and release a very unflattering squeak.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A deep chuckle rumbled beside you, Taehyung smirking lazily before diving face first into your neck and nuzzling it in some sort of drunken stupor.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You groaned, trying to forcefully shove his face away from you. “Where’s the beer you went to fetch?”

Your boyfriend expertly dodged your shove and dove back into your neck, mumbling against the skin something about not being able to find more drinks.

The vibration of his lips on such a sensitive spot made you want to squirm, but his halfhearted mumbles took your attention a bit more.

“No beer? I could’ve sworn-”

“Hey Y/n!” Someone interrupted with a call across the room. You looked up to see Lisa trudging over with a determined look on her face and a fogged up look in her eyes, perhaps a bit more tipsy than you remember leaving her. “Aren’t you going to show me where exactly you saw the ghost?”

Your dear friend most likely thought she was being discreet and having a normal conversation at a perfectly appropriate tone. But no, she was actually speaking way above a conversational volume, causing everyone else in the room to halt their conversations and turn to look at you.

“Ghost?” Jin laughed.

“You saw something in this room?” Hoseok inquired with a trembling voice, most likely regretting having come over. Beside him, Jimin quietly shook his head to himself.

“No way, Y/n doesn’t believe in stuff like that.” Your ex confidently informed the group.

At the sound of your past lover’s voice, you felt Taehyung stiffen beside you. The artist untangled himself from you, standing to his full height and facing the guest with an unknown expression.

“We had a little bit of a ghost problem, but it’s taken care of now.” He paused, and you could nearly hear his smirk when he went on to declare, “I got rid of it.”

Yoongi laughed boisterously, having to hold himself up with the wall to prevent falling over. “I’m sorry, but the image of little Tae boxing a little sheet with two holes for eyes is really sending me.”

Half your guests laughed at the thought. The other more believing half still stared at you inquisitively.

An awkward silence.

“Ghosts are real.” Jennifer started, effortlessly drawing all eyes to her. “I used to live in a haunted house when I was a kid.”

She put her drink down and folded her hands across her lap, suddenly immersed in thought and careful about what she was about to share.

“In my childhood home, there was a garden in the backyard. Almost everyday, at sunset, I’d look out the window and see this lady circling the flowers and humming to herself. After ten minutes or so, she would disappear into thin air. I told my parents but they never believed me.”

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to recollect.

“Until one day, my mom saw her too. And when she went out to confront what she thought was an intruder, the lady disappeared before her eyes. My mom then did some digging about the history of the house and it turns out, the previous owner was outside gardening when she had a heart attack and died.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air as everyone silently digested the anecdote.

“That’s fucking terrifying, please tell me your parents moved houses after that.” Hoseok broke the silence first, pleading with watery eyes.

Namjoon’s wife laughed, reaching for her drink once more. “How is it scary? The lady was just checking on her garden in the afterlife. However, I then grew up really interested in supernatural stuff.” She turned to you. “There’s some tell-tale signs that a home has a spirit attached to it. Cold spots, shadow figures, whispers, scary dreams and the biggest of all: always feeling like you're being watched, even if there’s no one else in the room.”

You quietly thought to yourself. Were there any cold spots in the home? No. Any shadow figures? Nope. Whispers and nightmares? Nada.

But…the last one, being watched when no one is there.

If you really focused on your intuition, you faintly felt that even now amongst all these people, you were being watched by something unknown.

Goosebumps raised on the surface of your arms.

Chills ran down your spine and you shivered, the reaction causing Taehyung to grasp you tighter against him in what was supposed to be comfort.

You felt even more cold.

“We haven’t had any of that. Really guys, it’s taken care of.” Your boyfriend told the room, effectively shutting down the paranormal subject.

You assumed Taehyung felt a bit defensive of his ghost expelling skills, either that or he genuinely wanted another topic of discussion.

You then felt a little bad, it was still his night after all and here you were unintentionally ruining it with your little ghost stories. The focus of the room should be on him and his achievements, not everyone's supernatural beliefs and stories.

“Taehyung is right, it’s all resolved. But I’d like to ask all of you to fill up your glasses one last time, and raise them with me, ” While they did that you quickly scanned the room, “Um, except maybe you, Yoongi. Feel free to sit this one out, bud.” You laughed as the drunk man just grumbled at you, defiantly snatching another beer and holding it high while swaying on his feet.

Hopefully he wasn’t the one driving home.

You cleared your throat, “I'd like to propose a toast to our own Taehyung. Everyone in this room knows it was only a matter of time before your artistic genius was recognized by the world, but that doesn’t make us any less proud than we are of you tonight. To the first of many showings! To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” the room loudly parroted back, everyone thrusting their drinks of choice in the air before knocking them back.

The artist beside you laughed and shook his head, “Really, guys it’s no big deal. Just a few paintings that I’m lucky even got sold. But thanks so much for making it. Most of you-” he snapped a side eye where Jimin sat, “have supported me so much, I’m just happy to have such a great group of friends.”

Said friends all smiled and nodded, although a few caught on to Taehyung’s subliminal dig and warily looked over at your ex.

Jimin pursed a tight smile, clearly trying to be nice and not make it obvious that he was the outsider at the party. You caught his eye and shot him a sorry look, but he shook his head in what was clearly meant to say “don’t worry about it.”

Your boyfriend continued, “However! ‘Friends’ don’t really beat ‘love of my life’. So without getting into all the lewd details of how I plan to spend my night celebrating, I’m going to need you all to start clearing out,” Taehyung smirked. “Y/n is a screamer.”

“Ew!” Lisa shouted, beside her Jungkook was suddenly unable to make eye contact with you.

The older men in the room just cackled. You slapped the artist's chest while trying to hide your blood red face.

Taehyung ducked and mouthed at your ear to whisper, “Sorry baby, but you know it’s true. And don’t act like you don’t want them out sooner rather than later.”

You wanted to be mad, but understood he was tipsy and riding on the high of his showing. So instead you played along and harshly whispered to him, “I doubt you can make me scream tonight. It’s not right to be misleading to your friends.”

He tiled your head to make you face him.

Taehyungs’ left brow twitched in vexation, his lips pulling back in a little growl. He looked around to make sure the guests were distracted with finishing their drinks or saying their goodbyes to each other. When he confirmed no eyes were on you two, he secretly placed his hand at the back of your head, running his long fingers through your hair and stopping right at the ends, to quickly form a fist and pull.

It was just one short tug, but the power of it made you gasp.

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make you a little wet too.

You had no idea where this came from. He never pulled your hair. Your boyfriend wasn’t rough and was one of those really progressive artists types that viewed any kind of manhandling in the bedroom as sort of sexist. But when you peered up at him, with the doe eyes he said he loved so much, and saw the clouded nature of his gaze, you just knew that inebriated Tae was very different from sober Tae.

Black and white, really.

‘I’m in for quite the night’ you thought to yourself while biting your lip, inwardly smug at how Taehyung transparently honed in on the action.

“Um, hey I think I’ll take my leave first.” You looked up to see Jimin awkwardly shifting in front of you two, a blacked out Molly in his hold.

“Oh god! Is she okay?” You exclaimed, noting the poor girl looked dead.

The dancer chuckled, “Yeah, she just gets really hyper when she's drunk then passes out after a bit. Ironically, sleep is all she needs I guess since she always wakes up good as new. No hangover.”

“Here let me show you out. I can help put her in the car.” You offered, already detangling yourself from Taehyung. He made a small sound of protest and made move to hold you tighter.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and consoled him with a smile, “You wanted people to leave, so we should help everyone get home safe. Can you check on Yoongi and maybe see if Namjoon and Jennifer can take him home?”

He looked conflicted, carefully sizing Jimin up through his peripheral. You wanted to roll your eyes. Although tipsy Taehyung was apparently a sexy beast, he was also an immature toddler who needed to be tricked.

You got on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear, “The quicker we get people out, the quicker you get me all to yourself.”

That seemed to convince him as he reluctantly stomped away in the direction of the couple, shooting one more guarded look at the dancer.

With that you led Jimin to the front door, even helping him put Molly’s heels back on before stepping out into the driveway and walking him to his car.

Silently, he opened the car and laid her in the backseat, tucking her in with his jacket. Then he shut the door, but instead of walking around to the driver spot, he turned to you and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

“So….”

“Look, I’m sorry about Taehyung. I didn’t even tell him you were an ex but he’s just been really possessive and weird lately. It’s not just you.” You informed him, hoping to make him feel better.

Jimin just waved it off with a chuckle, “No, I get it. You’re really gorgeous, kind and talented. I also struggled with jealousy when we were together. Can’t really blame him.”

You hoped your blush wasn’t too prominent as you said, “Yeah, but you were always nice to people regardless of feeling possessive. He was just rude. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Well, you can’t really date someone breathtaking if you’re going to be an insecure prick about it.”

You gaped like a fish at the implication you were still breathtaking in Jimin’s eyes. Words were suddenly hard to come by.

It was silent for a moment, the tension between you two as thick as it can possibly get for two past lovers.

“Y/n…why didn’t you tell him we dated?”

“L-Like I said, he’s already been acting jealous and I didn’t want him to focus on that when it was his night. Besides, It’s not like-”

“I broke up with Molly.”

“…What?”

“It happened on the way to your after party, she was upset that I still held a candle for you. And yeah, I couldn’t drag her along when I never felt half of what I felt for you, for her. I just said it without thinking, terrible timing of course. But that’s pretty on brand for me, I suppose.” He attempted a joke.

You smiled politely, although you had no idea how you should feel.

He continued, “I just thought I should say sorry because the reason she was such a drunk and sloppy mess in your home was because I carelessly dumped her on the way there.”

“It’s um, okay Jimin. She wasn’t the only drunken mess tonight. I hope you two manage to stay friends.” You said, then after a beat added, “And that you find what you’re looking for.”

“Listen, I know you're with Taehyung and happy but, I think there was some kind of misunderstanding about our breakup. I’m not trying to be a homewrecker or anything, but can we get a coffee sometime and just…talk?”

You smiled, finding no harm in the offer. “Sure-”

“No.”

You gasped and whipped around to see Taehyung standing behind you, arms crossed and hell in his eyes as he glowered down at Jimin.

How did he get there without being spotted or heard?

It's like he fabricated out of nowhere.

“I suggest you get in your car, leave and never speak to her again.”

Your ex held his hands up in surrender, “Look man, I wasn’t trying anything-”

“What kind of guy goes to their ex when she’s clearly in a happy and healthy relationship, and tries to drudge up the past in the name of closure? Fuck your closure. You lost her, and now I have her. And trust me, she has better things to do than getting coffee with the guy who broke her heart.”

“Please, Taehyung-”

You were cut off.

His voice was the lowest you’ve ever heard it, eyes pitch black and face blank as he calmly finished, “It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. And if I see you again I’m going to break your kneecaps and skin you alive, you little spineless boy. Run along now. While you still can.”

The threats were so visceral and promising, coupled with a man who looked downright murderous yet somehow calm. As if he had done it before and doing it again would be more so an inconvenience than a whole life-ending ordeal.

In this moment, you didn’t know your own boyfriend and you were terrified with this new persona.

No one moved or spoke, in fear one step or word would make Taehyung good on his promise.

You and Jimin were paralyzed, like two helpless deer in the presence of a blood thirsty wolf, the only hope was to stay still and go unnoticed. You met your ex’s eyes and while he did look afraid, he was focused only on you and your proximity to Taehyung.

Jimin was fearful. Not for himself, but for you.

And while you wanted your ex to run away, you were also scared to be left alone with someone so different from your usual Taehyung.

How could a few drinks and some jealousy cause such a behavior?

“Hey what’s going on here?”

Namjoon and Jennifer were babysitting a toddling Yoongi, the couple was also making way to their vehicle when they spotted the scene. The so-called ‘leader’ of the gang was quick to pick up on Taehyung’s aggressive stance, probably prompting him to get involved.

You felt your body lighten in relief.

Namjoon was always good at calming people down and taking control of situations.

Like a switch was turned on, your boyfriend grinned at the oncomers and nodded over at the dancer. Seemingly happy as a clam he chirped, “Nothing, hyung! Jimin here was just leaving. His poor girlfriend had too much, I think.”

Namjoon didn’t quite believe that, you and Jimin still looked rigid with alarm after all. Nonetheless, he played along for everyone’s sake. “Really? Maybe you should leave now then Jimin, get her in bed as soon as possible. It was nice meeting you.”

Jimin took the hint with grace and wordlessly ducked into his car, not acknowledging anyone else as he mouthed to you “call me”.

He started up the car, then slowly backed out of the driveway, and eventually down the road.

“Dude, are you sure you’re okay? It looked like you wanted to kill him.” Namjoon asked the artist.

Before hearing whatever bullshit was going to spew out of his mouth next, you promptly whipped around and stormed back into the house, making sure to purposefully shoulder-check your boyfriend as hard as you could in the process.

What the fuck was wrong with the bastard?!

Talking as though he was some offender or even a murder, just because your ex wanted to catch up?

You were so dreadfully embarrassed! Jimin must’ve thought you lost your mind after him and went off to date some real weirdos.

If you weren’t already on a lease with the man, this probably would’ve been the part where you blocked him and made it your personal mission to never see him again.

Instead, you busied yourself in the kitchen and washed most of the dirty dishes your guests left behind. You hoped Taehyung was wise enough to leave you alone, if the jerk knew what was good for him.

About 15 minutes had passed, and the kitchen was nearly as spotless as it was before the party had started, thanks to your furious cleaning and scrubbing. The house was now silent, and you were just debating putting all your spices in alphabetical order when you heard a shuffle behind you.

You snapped around and instantly scoffed at the sight.

Taehyung was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets and fixing a sheepish look at you.

“So…that got a little out of hand.”

You barked a disbelieving laugh. “More like you got out of hand, Taehyung. Threatening people like you’re some felon! Wouldn't be a surprise if there’s a rumor spreading about me dating a serial killer now."

“Y/n, I’m sorry. But please let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up to me? Your actions cannot be undone Taehyung! I cooked and cleaned after your friends and tried to make this night special for you. I just wanted you to have a nice night and be nice, and you flip out over a platonic coffee date? Who do you think I am? A slut who will open her legs to any ex who talks to me?!”

“W-what? No- Of course not! Please don’t think-”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, asshole?! Even if Jimin still had feelings for me, it would take me reciprocating them for anything to happen! You clearly don’t trust me, and if that’s the case, then what are we doing here? Should we just become roommates or something?”

A painful struck his face, watery eyes met yours when he choked out, “Do you even hear yourself? Why would I try to fight your ex if I truly didn’t love you? You’re mine, and I love you so much it’s just…I can act a little crazy sometimes.”

You sighed, turning your back on him to lean on the sink in exhaustion.

“I thought you were different from other guys, Tae. That caveman shit is extremely degrading to not only you, but especially me.”

“I’m sorry…it’s just a primal part of me that I can’t turn off. Give me a chance to make it up to you.”

You shot a look over your shoulder at him, still pissed.

He shot his hands up in the air, as if in defense. “You can still be mad at me all you want.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch for a week.”

“Done.”

“And….And you’re forgetting all about those stupid cameras.”

He quirked a grin, unknown mirth dancing in his eyes. “Sure.”

“At the end of the week, you will personally apologize to Jimin via a phone call or letter.”

His smile dropped, your glare sharpened, “Umm..fine okay. It won’t be sincere though.”

You rolled your eyes, “Doesn’t have to be, it’s the right thing to do so you’ll do it.”

“…anything else?”

“Not for now. I’m going to bed soon so if there’s anything you need from the room, get it now.”

He wordlessly turned around, and you then faintly heard him going up the stairs.

Biting your lip in deep thought, you proceed to wipe off the last of the counters.

Could you forgive him? When he was willing to do all that to appease you?

If you were being honest with yourself, you could feel the irritation already start to melt away a bit. You hadn’t expected such a 180 in his stance, he went from threatening Jimin with murder to begrudgingly agreeing to apologize within only a matter of half an hour or so. You thought you would have to at least give him the silent treatment for a bit before you could even bargain a “sorry” for your ex. Taehyung was usually much more stubborn…

Nonetheless though, you were still upset and embarrassed about the scene.

You hated when men got violent around you, it made you feel so unsafe and small. You thought Taehyung was different, him even poking fun at the meatheads who would pull stuff like that at the local bars you would frequent while dating. So what changed?

Footsteps slowly descended back down the stairs, telling you that Taehyung had returned from your bedroom and it was safe to go up.

You left the kitchen, turned off the lights and passed through the hallway. Briefly you stopped, just short of the stairs, to see your boyfriend grumbling to himself while arranging some blankets on the couch.

A sudden and chilling thought ripped from your lips before you could even quietly ponder it.

“Taehyung…how did you know Jimin was my ex?”

He stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face you with a blank look.

“Uh, Lisa might have slipped up and told me.”

You relaxed, unknowingly releasing a breath you had been holding. “Hmm, okay. We’ll talk tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight baby.”

“Oh! Let me get some water first, can you check that the doors were locked?” You asked while skipping back towards the kitchen. You hated waking up with a dry mouth and always kept a glass of water on your nightstand, restless bathroom trips be damned.

You didn’t hear any response to your request, but you paid it no mind, assuming Tae probably already double, if not triple, checked the locks being the worrywart that he was.

Right next to the kitchen entrance was the basement door, and it was shut.

Yet, something stopped you in your tracks.

The light under the basement door…it was on?

“Well I don’t have any more beer up here. Just wine. There might be some more in the basement, though.”

It couldn’t be….could it?

Your intuition was hollering at you from within.

A force greater than you pulled you to the door handle.

Against yourself, you opened the door to the basement…

And choked back a horrified scream.

At the bottom of the stairs lay Taehyung.

Unconscious, pale and bleeding horrifically from some head wound that was forming an inky pool under his crumpled form.

It wasn’t your Taehyung that returned upstairs.

So...this has been sitting in my drafts for over a year lol. I do have a dramatic ending in mind and some final scenes but yea, I don't think I could finish this unless people actually wanted it so let me know if this is a plot you kinda liked? I never tried flat-out supernatural horror like this. Anyway, happy October guys! Love you all. Luna :)

#yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #yandere au #bts #bangtan boys #male yandere #taehyung fanfic #yandere taehyung x reader #kpop fanfic #taehyung fluff #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction

[hotchfiles]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [CHOICELESS HOPE] ❞ — three. need in the devotee.

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summ.: the moment leading up to the kiss, the drumroll, is as good as the kiss itself. it's certainly more innocent. it's completely harmless. cw: canon divergent. emotional cheating. right person wrong time. no use of y/n. wc: 1k+.

previously

first cases were always an awkward matter, getting to know new people, having them wonder if you were nice or not and wondering the same thing about them. you thought maybe having dave around would make it less clunky. irrevocably wrong you were, as you had to explain the divorce from your cheating husband when he asked how the bastard was.

everytime you thought about your divorce it made something in your brain twitch, it had been finalized four years prior but it still hurt, and you got mad at yourself for being hurt, not only because it was a hit to your gut, your untrusting nature decided to trust this one man and he broke it so easily. but it hurt more as deep down you felt like you deserved it. like it was your karma. 

“i watched you speak about the importance of profiling for crisis negotiation once. you seemed very passionate about it, almost like hotch–” you held in a sigh as the genius boy possibly every unit had heard of spoke. you were an expert. a leader in your field. it just happened that your field was the one hotchner literally wrote the book about. you would have to deal with the comparison constantly now. “why did you transfer?” 

“not the pay, that i can assure you.” that earned you your first group laugh, some of them looking over at rossi, possibly understanding now why he looked so enthusiastic about your transfer, or because he was the one who mostly talked about the fact the pay was shit. 

“she was the only one available with experience, and she was forced to.” aaron clarifies from his seat on the jet, having thoroughly read your paperwork by now. you nod in confirmation, not caring that it wasn’t the best look to have been forced into their unit. it was yours first anyway.

“familiarity with the way hotch works was a factor too, it seems.” some things don’t come written on paper, only the influence of being one of the unit’s founders, like dave, guaranteed that type of information, or at least you thought so, as that fact didn’t come to you as reasoning. still, you wouldn’t lose the opportunity to tease aaron, even if only a bit. 

“familiarity is a way to put it, huh? most of his methodology was created with me.” scoffing loudly was his response while he shook his head in disbelief, the rest of the team glancing from you to him in curiosity. 

“maybe write a book about it then.” two hours into the first jet flight and you could possibly punch him in the face to get that little shit eating grin out of it. or maybe kiss him. 

“i thought working with you two together would make me feel young again. it doesn’t. i’m too old for this now.” dave points to you both and looks back to the files, bringing the conversation back to the case in hand. 

first two months he tries not to favor your presence, sending you off with derek, dave or spencer to check crime scenes, talk to suspects, witnesses, but like magnets you two always ended up beside each other, too close, shoulders touching while reading files and completing each other’s thoughts for the profiles. 

you do try to keep your distance as best as you can as well, favoring sitting alone on the jet, talking to emily or losing to reid at chess, bonding with the team was an important part of what made any work the best work possible. and it’s not as in better workplace, but better at the job.

connecting with the team made profiling better, faster, that was why you and hotch were quick to make connections, quick to see holes, patterns, when you were together. 

still you catch his annoying glances that he makes no effort to conceal when you lock eyes with him, instead he smiles with his teeth and waits for you to look away. and you usually do. 

las vegas being the final destiny though, you had your mind set on not looking away when he did his well known dance of glancing and waiting for you to look back, instead getting up to your feet and walking over to him, savoring the soft, almost shy smile he gave you as he took in your every move, from your seat to the one by his side.

you take a spray bottle out of the pocket of your fbi jacket and hand him without a word, trying to ignore the way he makes it his job to linger the soft brush your fingers against his as he read the information. 

“sunscreen? you know i don’t–” 

“don’t like the feeling on your skin, yeah, that’s a spray one, not sticky, not liquidy and it dries out completely.” aaron listens to you intently, but still has his suspicions, being shown clearly by the way he furrowed his brows even though his heart was skipping several beats by your actions. 

“what about the smell?” he’s properly fiddling with the bottle as if he was a kid with a toy, taking the cap off and trying to smell it through the sprayer, you roll your eyes and extend your arm to him. 

“it’s unscented, touch and smell my arm, i’m wearing it.” you’re not really thinking it through when you almost shove your forearm on his nose, he obliges it and takes a deep breath, you feel the air leaving his nose in your skin and get suddenly shy. 

his cheeks flush in warm pink, the product might be unscented but your skin smells like… you. he could recognize it from a mile away. he thinks to himself for a second and realizes that maybe if sunscreens had your scent he wouldn’t mind using them. and when his fingers softly touch your wrist, getting hold of it to lower it down, he is reminded of how soft you feel so he has no choice but to drop it or else he would be holding onto it for as long as you’d let him.

#lari writes sometimes #those are two different days btw #aaron x reader #aaron x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

[willowsnook]

Jealousy | Rafe Cameron x Reader

Since I had moved to the OBX for the summer I had caught the attention of the infamous Rafe Cameron. That fact is amusing considering that the reason I was in the OBX, to spend the summer with my cousin Topper, had warned Rafe to stay away from me. But when I ran into him at the Cameron house while waiting for Sarah... well let's just say he was doomed.

"Now who is this?" I heard the question as I walked into Sarah's kitchen, spotting Topper sitting at the island next to a tanned, dirty blonde boy who was smirking at me. Topper slapped the back side of his head.

"No one you need to know," he said and I smirked. I walked over to the boys holding out a hand.

"I'm y/n," I said eyeing the boy up and down not subtly at all. His smirk widened as Topper scoffed.

"I'm Rafe," he replied taking my hand.

Ever since that meeting, I seem to see him everywhere I go and the sexual tension between us is becoming too much to bear. Anytime we are near each other he finds a reason to touch me. Hands on my waist while moving behind me, hand on my thigh under the table if we are next to each other, insisting on being the one to put sunscreen on my back when we're by the pool, etc. But much to my annoyance, it hasn't gone further than that. He actually was respecting Topper's wish to some extent.

Tonight I was hoping to force his hand. Kelce was throwing a party at his house and I currently was getting ready with Sarah. She was curling her hair while I was applying a last layer of mascara. I settled on wearing a lace black corset top with cut off jean shorts.

"So are you planning on fucking my brother tonight?" She asked me nonchalantly. I stumbled into the mirror almost smearing the wand on my face.

"Uhhh, no comment," I said, not meeting her eyes. She rolled hers in return.

"You too have literally been eye fucking each other all summer long and he's already laid a claim on you." Now that caught my attention.

"What do you mean?"

"He's told pretty much every guy on the island to not go near you." I sighed in irritation. That would explain why it seemed like men were avoiding me like the plague this summer. I just thought it was because I was related to Topper.

"I'm going to kick his ass," I grumbled. "Are you ready?"

We walked into Kelce's house and were instantly hit with the sound of pounding music and the smell of beer. I followed Sarah to the backyard, getting a vodka soda from the outdoor bar. I spotted Rafe come out a little after and his eyes found me and he stomped over.

"What are you wearing?" He bit out. I could see the vein popping in his forehead which made me laugh.

"Clothes," I said dryly causing Sarah to laugh.

"You might as well be naked."

"If you want me to strip all you have to do is ask," I said sweetly, twirling a piece of my hair. Rafe's eyes darkened before he grabbed my arm pulling me into him. My other hand ended up on his chest as he leaned down to my ear.

"If anyone touches you I promise you I will make a scene." I brought my eyes back to him, tilting my head.

"Well I do love theatrics," I replied. He looked like he was going to say something else but Topper yelled his name. Reluctantly he let go of me. I tried to act like that hadn't just affected me but Sarah shot me a knowing look.

"Let's get another drink," I said, looping my arm through hers.

Three drinks later and I was veryyy tipsy and keen on finding him. I stumbled through the yard before spotting him through the window. He was sitting on a couch with Kelce, Topper, and a handful of girls. One of those girls was sitting on his lap, whispering in his ear. My blood boiled. I stalked toward the door and into the area they were sitting. Topper saw me first and he made room for me to sit but I shook my head. Rafe lifted his head from the brunette's neck and gave me a smirk. Two can play this game I thought.

"Kelce, do you want to do a line with me?" I asked with puppy dog eyes. He chuckled before standing up and coming near me.

"Let me show you how I do it back home though, " I said catching the attention of the rest of the boys on the couch. I cleared the beer pong table before jumping up to sit facing Kelce. I held out my hand and he gave me the little baggie. I skillfully arranged the line on the top of my chest, maybe a centimeter from where my shirt covered. Kelce's eyes widened and he looked back to Rafe whose hands had turned to fists at his side. I grabbed Kelce's hand and blinked up on him.

"Come on, I want you to do it." That was all the encouragement needed and he put his head in my chest and snorted it off. The group cheered, minus Rafe of course and Topper looked worried.

"Now it's my turn," I told Kelce with a devious smile gesturing for him to lay on the table. He laid down and I pulled his shirt up running my hand over his abs causing him to quickly inhale.

"It feels like it just got way hotter in here," one of the other girls said fanning herself. I arranged the line right along his V line, trying to ignore the bulge growing near.

"y'n" I heard Rafe growl and I gave him a smirk which I know only pissed him off more.

I lowered my head down to Kelce's hips and snorted the line to a crowd of cheers and whistles. The second I stood up and turned around I felt hands at my waist lifting me up. I was thrown over Rafe's shoulder and felt him moving quickly out of the room. I felt him take me through the kitchen and into another room which I figured out to be a guest room of some sort.

He set me on the ground and closed the door.

"Jealous, Rafey?" I said and he spun around yanking me towards him. He held both my wrists over my head and backed me up against the wall.

"Did you think that was funny, y/n?" He sneered, heat radiating off him. "Thought you could touch someone else in front of me like that?" I rolled my eyes.

"You didn't have any problem touching that whore on your lap," I snapped back. He pushed his hips up against mine, shoving me further against the wall. I could feel his bulge pressing against me.

"Feel that," he rasped. "I can tell you it wasn't there when she was on my lap." His grip loosened on my wrists and I chose that moment to strike. I wrapped my hand around his throat and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Let me get one thing clear," I said staring him down. "You are mine and mine only to touch." He pulled me closer to him and crashed his lips down on mine. My back was back against the wall as he assaulted my mouth fighting me for dominance. He moved down to my neck, biting and leaving marks down to my chest.

"Rafe," I moaned out. I felt the cool air as he pulled his mouth off my skin to look up at me. He smirked at the sight of my heavy breathing and swollen lips.

"Time for me to claim what's mine," he said pulling me towards the bed.

#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx

[stressedanime]

read on ao3

Will was sitting on the couch mindlessly flicking through Netflix. He was sitting completely upright, his body full of tension that he had nowhere to put. Nico was late coming home and Will couldn’t help the cascade of worst case scenarios that were currently parading through his mind.

As always, he remembered too late that he and Nico shared each other’s locations, so Will could literally track his location live through his phone. His arms darted around on the couch for his phone, probably more frantically than was necessary.  

Before he could even find his phone he heard the scrape of keys against the lock, and then the sound of the front door opening, announcing Nico’s arrival back home. Will didn’t waste a second before he jumped off the couch and headed to greet his partner.

Nico was standing near the entrance of the house when Will reached him, but before he could embrace him like he always did, Will stopped.

Nico had an expression on his face that was unfamiliar, and frankly jarring to see. He wore a sheepish smile, but his dark eyes were sparkling with… hope? He was also standing slightly hunched with his hands behind his back, obviously hiding something, which was even more concerning.

They stared at each other for a beat, and before Will could question what he was hiding, Nico spoke.

“Will, darling. You love me right?” 

Will blinked at him. “Yes… of course I love you,” he said hesitantly. Nico nodded, and it looked like he gained a little bit of confidence as he stood up straighter.

“You love me and you would do anything for me?” Nico questioned again, and at this point Will’s mind was racing through a million different possibilities. 

Will hesitated, his eyes darting to Nico’s arms that disappeared behind him. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“What do you have ?” Will shot back, taking a step towards him. Nico held his gaze for another second, before sighing and carefully bringing his hands out from behind him. It looked like he was holding a bunched up t-shirt.

Will frowned, not sure what was so remarkable about an old t-shirt that Nico had to confirm Will’s devotion to him. Then he saw movement. Will’s eyes widened, and he closed the distance between them, and lightly touched the edge of the shirt.

Swaddled gently inside was a baby opossum. Its little black eyes stared up at Will, its pink nose wiggling slightly as it sniffed the air. 

Will glanced up at Nico and almost had to look away instantly. Nico was giving him the biggest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen grace Nico’s face. Even the time that he came across a listing for an extremely rare first edition Mythomagic set didn’t come close to the eyes he was currently giving Will. 

As Will stared at his adorable expression, he already knew what Nico was going to ask, and Will wasn’t sure if he could say no.

“Can we keep ‘er?” Nico asked on cue, pouring every ounce of sweetness he could into his voice. Nico blinked and somehow made his eyes even bigger. Will thought that this was vaguely reminiscent of a scene in the animated Puss in Boots they had recently watched together. 

Nico’s favourite animal was opossums. Will and Nico’s Instagram and Twitter DM’s were more or less filled with possum memes, or just pictures of possums with Nico lamenting over how cute they were. He had always joked to Will that if he was to ever own a pet it would be a possum, so Will had to admit it wasn’t really surprising that Nico took the opportunity to bring one home. 

Already feeling his resolution crack he sighed, knowing one of them had to be the voice of reason. “Nico. It’s a baby. Did you steal it from its mother?”

“No!” Nico exclaimed in a half whisper. Will raised his eyebrows. “No, I would never. It’s mom-” Nico cut off and hesitated, looking down at the creature in his hands. He shifted so he was cradling it protectively against his chest instead of holding it out to Will. To Will’s surprise, when Nico met his eyes again, Nico’s face was pinched into an expression that Will recognized as Nico trying to hold back tears.

“Her mom was on the side of the road. She was the only one that was still alive,” Nico said quietly, the last words of his sentence barely a whisper. Nico’s eyes filled with tears, and in tandem Will’s heart filled with sympathy and he reached out to pull Nico into a hug, being careful of the possum in his arms. He gently rubbed Nico’s back, and whispered comforting words. After a little bit, he kissed the top of Nico’s head and pulled back, decidedly not mentioning the newly damp spot on the collar of his shirt. 

“Okay, let's go sit down. We definitely can’t keep it forever, but we have it now. Let's go figure out what we can do.” Nico nodded, and gave Will a peck as he walked by him, whispering a small thank you .

Nico headed to the living room, and placed the baby possum on the coffee table. He kneeled in front of it, crossing his arms on the table and then resting his head on his arms. Nico fixed the possum with a look of pure adoration as it crawled out of the t-shirt, then headed towards where Nico was sitting. 

Will stood for a moment, just studying Nico. It was rare that Nico looked so absolutely soft with his chronic case of resting bitch face. Will got to see the soft side of him more than anyone else, but seeing Nico being so tender with such a tiny little creature caused Will’s insides to melt into a gooey mess. 

Will sat on the couch behind Nico, and Nico leaned back using Will’s leg as back support. Will threaded his fingers into Nico’s dark wavy hair, scratching lightly as his scalp. Nico let out a puff of air and relaxed into the feeling.

“First things first,” Will started as Nico reached out to lightly pet the possum between its ears. “What did you name it?”

“Heather,” Nico answered, faster than Will expected.

“Heather?” Will repeated back to him, and Nico nodded. “Why Heather?” 

Nico wasn’t facing Will, but Will could tell he was blushing by the shade of pink that his ears turned. He mumbled something Will couldn’t hear, so Will leaned forward, prompting him to repeat himself.

“I named her after the possum from Over the Hedge. She was voiced by Avril Lavigne.”

Will let out a small laugh, not out of judgement but out of affection. “That’s cute babe, Heather sounds perfect.” At that Nico tilted his head back into Will’s lap and smiled at him. Will leaned down, the position was a bit awkward but he still managed to give Nico a chaste kiss. 

Will sat up again and Nico turned his attention back to the coffee table. At this point Heather had crawled into Nico’s hand and curled up, closing her eyes. Nico cooed at her, shifting on his legs but being careful not to move his arm at all.

“Are you able to Google what we should do? I know we probably can’t keep her, but I want to make sure we do everything right.”

Will hummed in affirmation and started looking for his phone again. He finally found it on the side table beside his end of the couch. He googled ‘how to take care of a baby possum’ and started reading out the advice.

“Number one thing is to keep her warm, and have her in a dark place. It says to put some rags in a box for her to go in with some sort of heating. I think we have a shoe box somewhere that we can use, and we have that heating pad, so I’ll grab that in a bit.” Nico nodded, and gently placed Heather back into the t-shirt. 

“What about food?” Nico asked quietly. 

“It actually says not to feed her. We could feed her the wrong thing or she could eat something wrong and get it into her lungs. Most of these sources say just keep her warm and safe until we can contact a wildlife rehabilitator.” 

Nico sighed, his shoulders slumping. “That makes sense.” He leaned his head down onto the table. “I don’t want to give you away to some stranger though,” Nico cooed at Heather, using his finger to scratch her head again.

They sat in comfortable silence for a couple moments, before Nico perked up. 

“Wait. What am I saying. Frank’s literally a wildlife rehabilitator! He works at the zoo as a vet! ” 

Will’s eyes widened. “Oh my god you’re right.”

Nico carefully picked up Heather again, and turned around to look at Will. “Do you think they’ll keep her, and let us visit?” he asked, tentative hope written across his face. Will leaned down and kissed the tip of his nose.

“I’m sure you can convince Frank. I think he’s still scared of you.” 

Nico laughed at that, and then shook his head. “I really don’t get why. I was joking when I gave him the shovel talk when he and Hazel started dating.”

“Babe, you can be scary when you’re happy ,” Will said leaning in and looking Nico directly in the eyes. Nico scrunched his nose in disagreement, so Will continued. “Not to me though. There’s no way I can think of you as scary when you bring baby animals home and name them after cartoon characters.” Nico rolled his eyes in annoyance, but the smile on his face betrayed him.

Will lightly gripped Nico’s chin and pulled him close. He caught Nico in a deeper kiss than the others he had given him since he got home, and Will did his best to pour his absolute adoration for Nico into it.

After a couple of moments though he pulled away. He slapped his thighs before standing up. “C’mon, let’s go set up a box for Heather. We can call Frank in the morning.” Nico nodded and stood up next to him slowly so as to not jostle Heather. Before Will could walk away Nico leaned in and gave Will another short kiss.

“Thank you,” Nico whispered against Will’s lips. Will just smiled, and returned the kiss.

#babies first solangelo fic guys!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #i wrote this in 3 hours so if it isn't the best #deal wit it #i fully believe that nico di angelo would love possums ok. am i projecting? maybe. am i right? yes #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #tw mention of animal death #also krista if u see this no you DIDNT

[walviemort]

You Owe Me [4/6]

Tired of losing Lost Boys to Hook’s sword, Peter Pan decides that the pirate will be replacing the ones he took—the old-fashioned way: by growing (and birthing) them himself. As Killian grapples with these unexpected pregnancies, it will test not only his body and his endurance, but especially his heart. (Eventual Captain Swan)

An: And we're back on this fine Saturday! Two more chapters after this...and I have to admit that I've enjoyed writing each one more than the last, so hopefully you've enjoyed reading them as such! (also--there's a bit of steaminess in here, but not enough to warrant upgrading the rating ;D ) Hope you like it! And thank you again to @sancocnutclub​​​ for the inspo :D

rated T / 3.2k / part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / AO3

Pan’s little game with Hook over the last decade or so had gone far better than he anticipated, though it was slightly disappointing that the pirate had figured it out so easily. At least he’d been able to twist things around on him a few times, and he had at least one left. Hell, he could thank Hook himself for the idea. 

He took the last two vials he had and flew off, to where the captain was sharing a meal with Tiger Lily, though it didn’t look like either quite enjoyed it—it seemed almost more business-like. 

Whatever. He snapped his fingers, and the scene before him paused, giving him plenty of opportunity to empty the vials into the bread Hook was eating. Then added a dash of pixie dust, giving it a command similar to what he’d used in the wine from the last time, a few years ago.

He’d have to be a little more patient this time, but had a feeling it’d be worth it. And it would give him some more time to figure out how to acquire the last boy Hook owed him.

Another snap of his fingers let the scene progress as normal, and he watched from afar as Hook took a big bite of his food.

Giggling to himself, he headed back to his camp; the four boys Hook had already given him fit in well, and he had no doubt these next ones would, too.

—-----------------------

Killian felt uneasy after his meeting with Tiger Lily—not just because it hadn’t exactly gone well, despite them literally breaking bread over a potential business deal, but in general, he feared that something was awry. Particularly, with him, and he had every reason to suspect Pan—though he had no clue when the boy would have had a chance to slip him anything. He knew Tiger Lily and her tribe were just as wary of him as his crew was.

He remained on alert the next several days, but…nothing happened. Perhaps he was losing his touch. (Perhaps he needed a vacation.) So he relaxed and moved on.

The nausea came on slowly, so he didn’t notice it at first; just blamed it on too much rum, or a rough storm that knocked the ship around. Not until he was actively puking over the rail of the ship did he think it could truly be that kind of nausea, but once he was, there was little question.

However—it went on a lot longer than his last two (normal) pregnancies; the evening with Tink was quite obviously an anomaly. For weeks on end, he had difficulty keeping down anything but hardtack and ginger tea (which they always kept at the ready now). His ribs began to stick out a bit, and were it not for his beard, he’d be looking a little gaunt.

“Me mum had a few like that,” Lewis said, trying to comfort him as he lost yet another meal after roughly seven weeks of this nonsense. “The midwife in town told her that the sicker she was, the healthier the babe would be.”

“Then this one will have incredible immunity,” Killian sighed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and pulling a sip of tea out of his flask.

It finally abated after ten or twelve weeks—twice as long as it usually lingered—but his body was slow to show any other changes. At least he put weight back on, but it merely put him back to normal, not the gain he typically expected around his midsection. 

He almost breathed a sigh of relief when his pants finally began to feel snug, but it was so much later than in the past. By his estimate, it had been around the four-month mark the first time, a little earlier the second; he had to be well past six now, if not farther. 

Noticing the furrow in his brow as he cupped the so-small bump, Lewis enquired as to what was bothering him. 

“I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m worried there’s something wrong with the babe. They should be so much bigger by now. How…how would I know if they hadn’t made it?” He was aware that was a common malady. 

“You’d know, sir. My mum had a few didn’t make it. It hurt her near as much as labor.”

He nodded in understanding, but that didn’t assuage his worries as much as he thought it would. 

His confusion reached a peak when he finally felt fluttering within—at nearly the eight-month mark.

“What is going on, little one? Are you alright?” he asked his barely round belly that evening as he lounged on his bed. 

“Oh, they’re just fine,” Pan interrupted. Killian was hardly even surprised at this point. “Don’t tell me you were actually worried?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? Knowing you, I’d still owe you if the worst happened,” he tossed back, annoyed. 

“Yeah, you probably would,” Pan conceded. “But no—everything is alright here. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t cracked this one.”

Killian just cocked an eyebrow in question. 

“Why, you gave me the idea!” Pan practically exclaimed. The next time he spoke, it was Killian’s own voice coming from his mouth. “Watch—the next one will be twice as slow. With twins,” he said, echoing Killian after his last birth. “What a brilliant plan!”

Killian just hung his head and ran a hand down his face and letting it settle on his small bump, exasperated with this. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he sighed. 

“You really shouldn’t. But I’m glad you are.”

“So that’s…” He quickly did the mental math. “Bloody hell, almost nine more months?”

“Something like that; arithmetic was never my strong suit. So you’ll have plenty of time to get to know those boys, won’t you?”

Killian closed his eyes and took a deep breath, both in an attempt to avoid betraying any feelings and to not let Pan get the rise out of him that he wanted. 

“Take care, Captain. Let me know if you need anything!” Pan cackled, and then disappeared. 

Killian just flopped back against his pillows and let his hand instinctively settle on his stomach. He’d be spending nearly eighteen months pregnant, and he was only halfway through. Gods above, let his sanity (and Smee’s tunics) hold out. 

———————

Ever thankful he was a meticulous note taker, Killian pulled out his journals from the last time he had twins and was able to extrapolate the week-by-week data from then so he’d know what to expect this time. Just—slower.

If he was doing an even comparison, this put him right around the 4-month mark from where he’d been then, as far as the size of his bump and the babes’ activity level.

He skimmed over his notes from the last few weeks, recalling just how bloody uncomfortable he’d been—and groaned in anticipation.

At least he was able to stay in his own clothes longer this time; that was one blessing of the slowed-down time table. He was also able to more easily adjust to the gradual changes in his body, as well as be a productive member of the crew for longer, which would hopefully offset the months he’d likely spend useless.

It took another couple of months until he outgrew his leathers and this set of twins started making their presence known on the outside. At the outset, they seemed to be a bit gentler than the last ones, though perhaps it was just the much more languid pace that made it that way. (Or he was just comparing it to the previous pregnancy, when the little one attacked his insides at record pace.)

He didn’t experience any of the sharp pains that came with his previous pregnancies; they were more dull aches and throbs, or careful pokes. He had plenty of warning when a little foot found his bladder, and the assaults on his ribcage were much lower impact.

Even his shirts still fit until roughly the twelve-month mark (approximately where he’d been at six months the first time, which checked out.) The fact he’d been carrying these babes around for nearly a year was rather mistifying, but he wasn’t feeling too drained yet. 

In fact, he had plenty of energy to deal with the heightened hormones this was leaving him with—the spikes weren’t as dramatic as they’d been in the past, but they were just as strong and lasted longer. Tink had taken a bit of convincing to join him, but caved when he nearly broke down in desperation. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she seemed to enjoy the novelty of their trysts with the added impedance between them. As for him—well, he was certain he’d never come so fast as when she began to caress his sensitive skin when they were in the middle of things, quickly sending him over the edge; he had to take care not to fall on top of her, lest he crush her.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked while laying alongside her, where he’d managed to collapse.

“No, not at all,” she assured him. “I’m not the wordsmith you are, so I can’t aptly describe what it feels like, but…it’s definitely enjoyable, having all that pressing against me,” she explained, brushing the back of her fingers against his bump. “Perhaps we could flip things around so you can kind of feel it?”

“Please,” he sighed; just her touch had him keyed up again. It probably wasn’t the same, having her on top, but still felt incredible.

Their dates, as they were, continued until he entered the later third of his pregnancy and truly began to slow down—somewhere around fourteen months, when he reached nearly where he’d been at the end of his first (and third) pregnancy.

“And you still have a ways to go?” Tink asked after what would be their last meeting (in that sense, at least). 

“Probably four months,” he sighed, rubbing his round belly, and hoping he’d be able to climb down from the treehouse without too much issue.

“Bloody hell,” she cursed. “Remind me never to piss off Pan.”

“Good luck.”

His belly slowly continued its outward expansion, but that brought another issue to light: the strain it was putting on his lower back. Obviously, it had before as well, but not for such an extended period. Even if his body would eventually go back to normal, he was worried about becoming debilitated over these final few months (and had to imagine labor would be all the worse with such an injury).

But his amazing crew was already ahead of him. On a day when he was particularly averse to being upright, a few of them, led by Lewis, presented him a gift while he was trying to supervise on deck—but mostly finding surfaces upon which he could rest his belly (the rail was the perfect height).

“Captain,” Lewis started, “me and the boys noticed your discomfort, and Smith ‘ere knows his way around a needle,” he gestured back at the crew mate, who saluted, “an’ we found some sailcloth and helped him fashion up this.”

Smith handed him a large loop of fabric that seemed to have some holes in it. “Thank you, men,” he said earnestly. “I appreciate the effort, and I don’t mean to be rude, but…what exactly is it?”

“Is a sling, sir,” Smith said. “For, er…for the babes,” he explained, then made a gesture resembling a round belly. 

“Oh!” Killian exclaimed. But he was still confused as to how it worked. “Could you help me put it on?”

Smith and Lewis both obliged him, first hanging the loop off his neck and then instructing him to put his arms through the holes, letting the top part of the fabric rest on his upper back and the rest hang over his front. Then they gently slid the rest under his bump—and he almost immediately sighed in relief. 

“Oh, that’s incredible,” he gushed, relishing in the sudden lack of pain and the fact that he could stand taller than he had in days. “Thank you; thank you so much.” No one commented on the tears brimming at his eyes; they’d all gotten used to his heightened emotions. 

Armed with the sling, he was ready to face the last six weeks or so of this unending pregnancy. 

It was somewhere around the sixteenth month that he finally hit where he’d been at eight months the last time. Much like in the past, he did spend a fair bit of time in his cooler cabin, but the sling allowed him to stay on deck quite often, even though the babes were clearly beginning to run out of space—and fighting each other for what they had.

If the movements of one baby could be described as alien, watching two was downright horrifying sometimes—though at least still slow enough to save him from undue pain. Still—watching his stomach shift from side to side as the boys went at it was by far the oddest sensation he’d had yet; even the crew would pause to watch, and he could hardly blame them. (They’d even take bets on which side would “win”, as it were, although Killian could never quite determine the criteria for victory. Whatever kept them happy, though.)

The practice contractions were longer than he was used to, and much duller because of it. He was curious how that would parlay to actual labor—would it be better, or worse? On the bright side, his belly’s transition from higher on his frame to lower was much more gradual; however, it also meant that once the babes settled on his hips, they were bound to stay there for at least a few more weeks. It occurred just past the eighteen-month mark, and he expected he’d likely go one more.

Even with the sling and the support of his crew, that last month was nothing short of torture. He gave up the ghost when it came to propriety and was often found up on deck with his shirt hiked up around his oversized bump, letting the breeze cool him off. His waddle was probably comical, but no one dared say a thing—well, save for Tink during her occasional visit. Hell, he was even too tired and sore to do anything with her, although her back massages were heavenly.

Each and every day seemed to grow slower and slower, until he couldn’t be arsed to leave his cabin. Smee checked on him fairly often, but there was little to report; hell, he was barely even hungry, the two little lads leaving hardly any room to eat, though he at least managed to stay properly hydrated.

“Please, little ones,” he sighed as he rubbed his too-large bump, laying on his side in bed the morning the calendar marked the start of the nineteenth month. “Please, come soon.”

—-----------------------

A few days later, he began to feel more frequent contractions, but they were still fairly mild—though increasing in frequency and intensity. He let Smee know, but also knew there was little to be done until it was time to push.

He tried to walk through it, but it didn’t help nearly as much this time. Coincidentally, Tink showed up as his slow labor started, and decided to stick around to help out; he was sure Smee’s hand appreciated the reprieve.

However, at the end of that first full day, he was still nowhere near giving birth.

He was closer yet at the end of the next day, but according to Lewis, still had a way to go; he hadn’t felt the urge to push yet, either, so he knew it was true.

Finally, his water broke early in the third day, and the contractions seemed to accelerate, though they’d only just reached the timing and strength of his first labor. At least there was an end in sight.

With the help of Smee and Tink, he somehow made it through the day, intermittently cursing and groaning as things progressed. Finally, it felt like it was time to push; Smee went to get Lewis while Tink held his hand as he started.

The baby came out quickly, though; were it not for Tink’s quick reflexes, the boy likely would have slipped out onto the floor.

“Suppose you don’t really need me then, do ye?” Lewis quipped, having walked in just as Tink made her grab.

“There’s still another one for you to catch,” he joked tiredly. Tink passed the first lad off to Smee and retook her seat at his side as he mentally prepared to deliver the second.

This one seemed to take longer, and hurt far more. “Something’s wrong,” he insisted. “It’s so bad.”

Lewis was studying the (likely awful) scene. “I’m no expert,” he started, though Killian begged to differ, “but I think the babe is backwards—face up instead of face down.”

“Is there anything we can do about that?” Tink asked.

“‘Fraid not. Just gotta keep going.”

Tink squeezed Killian’s hand and rubbed his back as he bore down on the next contraction. And the next, and a few more; he thought he might split in half, but then, with his own tiny scream, the boy was out.

Lewis handed the second one to Tink and quickly snipped both cords, just in time for the after birth to be ready to come out. And when Killian was finally done, he fell back against the pillows, completely spent.

Until he heard the babes start whinging. “Bring them here,” he asked drowsily. “Can I—can I hold them both?”

Tink and Smee exchanged a glance and then a nod, and brought them over, placing one in each arm. He hadn’t had this chance with the first twins, and couldn’t help but laugh at the way they still seemed to be fighting and kicking against each other. They had a lot of spirit, that was for sure.

“Be well, my boys,” he whispered. “Be brave.” He knew there was no fighting once Pan came to claim them, but after spending so long with them, he felt more attached than he had any children yet.

“Took you long enough,” Pan said when he arrived, a few minutes later. “I’ve been waiting months!”

Killian just rolled his eyes.

Pan strode closer to inspect them. “I was worried they’d be twice the size of a newborn, but they look fairly average. Lucky for you.” In the next moment, they were in Pan’s arms. “Thank you again, Captain, for your fine contribution to my crew.”

“Aye, because I did this by choice,” Killian spat back, but it hardly had any vigor.

“Maybe someday,” Pan replied with an evil wink. “I suppose I forgot to let you name the last one; got any ideas for these two?”

He immediately thought back to the stories of the gods he’d read in the naval academy. “Castor and Pollux.”

Pan scrunched up his face at them. “Alright, but I can’t guarantee they won’t end up with nicknames. Until next time,” he farewelled with a nod, and again flew out the window, with the babes—and a couple more pieces of Killian’s heart—with him.

Tink held him through the breakdown again.

—------------------------

It took twice as long for his body to return to normal, to no surprise. But the next time Pan sent him out of realm, he vowed not to return.

Especially because he got wind of the weapon that would finally—finally—let him get his revenge on the Dark One. He hadn’t forgotten, despite all that had happened in the last decade.

What followed next was a trail of queens, sorceresses, and curses that left him frozen in time, on some more landlocked adventures, and finally, to a town called Storybrooke.

————————————————–

thanks for reading! hope you liked it! tagging a few: @wyntereyez​​ @jennjenn615​​ @superadam54​​ @ashley-knightingale​​ @justsomewhump​​ @teamhook​​ @mathiaskejseren​​​ @88infinity88​​​ @mischievousgraxaim​

#captain pan #killian mpreg #you owe me #My ff

[hertzwritings]

Jealous

A/N: Oh, boy, this is a smutty one! So the amazing @fanartandfanfiction requested this story and OH MAN AM I DOWN FOR IT.

Request: First thing age gap they’ve been on movies with each other before done a sex scene all that fun stuff but… when she confesses her feelings for him after sex. He says something along the lines of you need “you need to live your life a little more before i tell you i feel the same way”. But the kicker is she then goes to a movie premiere with Chris Evans, and he figures out that he gets very jealous when he does in fact see her living her life without him.

I did tweak it slightly, but no worries! This is probably going to have to be a two-parter though – but two very smutty parts…

I’m so so so so so so so so so down for this, and I gotta thank her, that amazing woman, for getting me out of a writer’s block!

Remember, feedback feeds the soul and requests are always open!

Also: This is going to touch upon a fictional movie, that the reader and Henry is shooting, just so nobody thinks I’ve got an inside on his upcoming movies 😉

MASTERLIST

HENRY CAVILL MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader (and a dash of Chris Evans)

Warnings: Language, smut (minors DNI, please), Dom!Henry, Jealous!Henry, Possessive!Henry, age-gap (reader is 22, Henry is 38), daddy-kink, breeding-kink, cream-pie, degradation-kink, praise-kink, breath play, p in v, fingering, oral (M receiving), spanking, pet-names, unprotected sex and probably something else I forgot about

Wordcount: 3.935

Part 2

Jealous

You’d spent the last three weeks pretty much glued to Henry Cavill and his large thighs. As in glued.

You didn’t really mind, but it was getting increasingly hard to focus on your actual job every time he rutted against you – unintentionally, of course – and straight up knocked the wind out of you.

It was because of the damn motorcycle-scene, that you were currently stuck in this position; facing Henry on a large leather seat, your legs thrown over his large thighs as he straddled the bike, your core overwhelmingly close to his groin and completely encased by his wide arms. The scene seemed to drag on forever, constantly needing new angles, pick-ups or just straight do-overs. You were burning up, and with the thought of the goddamn sex-scene that followed this one on the call-sheet, made you almost want to quit on the spot.

“You good, Y/N?” He mumbled; his lips curled in a teasing smile. Oh, yes, perfectly fine, except the whole ass man that you sat on.

“Yup. Just hot.” You answered tightly. You weren’t lying; the sun was beating down on the two of you and you had seen the sweat pebble on his forehead.

“It’s quite warm today, isn’t it?” Oh god, you were talking about the fucking weather with him. You nodded.

“Alright, Y/N, I’m going to need you to scoot closer to him. I want you to be chest to chest, and you need to be pretty steady, because we’re giving you two guns instead of one, I think it’ll work better.” The director said, pointing to the two of you. You sighed.

“So… You want me to be literally on top of him?” He nodded.

“Yes, and even though the bike isn’t moving, we’re still going to have it rumble a little, so you need to be sure you’re safely and steady on it.” You looked at Henry.

“Okay?” You asked. He smiled.

“Be my guest.” Great. You scooted forwards, slowing inching up on him, until you were straddling him, your chest pressed against his and his very prominent bulge right under your throbbing core. Fucking hell.

“You need to squeeze your thighs around me, Y/N, or you’ll fall off.” He whispered in your ear. You bit back a moan as he rocked gently under you, adjusting slightly.

“Yup, sure, got it.” You answered and squeezed around him. You were going to die.

“Alright, Y/N and Henry, we’re starting the scene in a minute, get comfortable and Y/n, you’re getting your guns…” A PA came over with the two guns. You held your arms out, holding them under Henry’s, pointing the guns to the “invisible” enemy, ready to do some trick shoots. Thank God, you weren’t actually moving on the bike, because you would definitely fall off. Instead, it rested on a large trailer, hooked to a car, that would move you.

“Alright, ready to go!” You nodded once, trying to keep your wits around yourself as Henry’s cologne filled your nose.

“And… Action!” You felt the rumble under you and you couldn’t help the small moan that escaped your lips, as the vibrations shot straight to your core – you heard Henry groan and he shifted under you, a suspicious twitch hitting you. You bit your lip and at the cue, started shooting.

“You’re a tease, Y/N…” Henry whispered and shifted again. This time there was no mistaking it, he intentionally rolled his hips, so his clothed length hit you. You bit your lip and tried to focus. “Shit, you’re going to be the death of me.” He groaned.

Before you knew it, the scene had ended and you gratefully got to your feet, shaking slightly and very wet from his constant flow of praises and his twitching length that pushed against you.

“Alright, we’re moving to the bedroom-scene, act two!” The director wrangled everybody together and pointed at you and Henry.

“You two, get to makeup and costumes, we’ve got thirty!” He yelled and you both nodded, falling in step with each other as you walked to the trailers. He kept adjusting his pants, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Got an issue, Cavill?” You asked teasingly. He narrowed his eyes at you.

“Oh, you need to be careful, Y/N…” He said, moving a little closer before you stopped in front of the makeup-trailer. “Or I might have to have you take care of it, since you caused it.” You felt your cheeks heat up in an instant, and your breath hitched.

“Oh, really?” He quirked and eyebrow and bent his head down, so his face was level with yours.

“You seem to be a bad girl, darling. Watch yourself.” You swallowed a moan. “See you on set.” He whispered, his lips so damn close, you could almost taste them, and then he turned on his heel and stalked to the costume-trailer, leaving you very frustrated and very red.

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

40 minutes later, you were pinned under him, barely dressed, your legs wrapped around his waist and your pussy flush to his length.

“Okay, ready?” You both nodded at your director, eyes firmly on each other’s, trying to size one another up to see, who would back down first.

“Okay, remember, just do what feels natural to you guys. If it doesn’t work, we’ll choreograph something, okay?”

“You got it.” You said with a grin.

“Alright, action!”

Henry didn’t waste any time, his lips firmly on yours, tongue sliding against your bottom lip. He was intoxicating, the taste of him like fucking cocaine to you; you groaned and let him in as he rutted against you, pressing his already hard length against you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging your nails against the skin and you heard him moan at the feeling – you both moved, almost dry-humping as you kissed, letting any and all emotions out into it. You could barely focus on anything but his length, and you moved your hand from his neck and slid it between your bodies. He stopped kissing you for a fraction of a second, as his eyes found yours, panting, to see if you were going to do, what he thought you were.

You smirked, a smile hidden from the cameras, and grabbed his length under the covers.

He growled, fucking growled at the feeling of your hand around him, even through clothes, and pistoned his hips, jerking you both a little. His one hand went to your cheek, his fingers wrapping around your chin and cheek to hold you in place, his face falling next to your ear.

“You’re in fucking trouble.” A strained whisper came, his lips hitting your ear. You moaned, not really caring about the cameras anymore, and rolled your hips under him.

“Cut!” You both stopped, panting, your hand slowly inching off of him. “That was amazing, guys!” The director seemed overjoyed at you both. “I’m really impressed, you really sold the chemistry.”

“Thanks, Craig.” You said in a husky voice, lust lacing your words. Henry cleared his throat.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Okay, well… We’ll go over the dailies tomorrow morning, but you guys are off for the rest of the night!” He said happily.

“Cool, thank you.” Henry cleared his throat again.

“Can we have a moment to ourselves?” He asked the team, who all nodded, albeit confusedly, and left. He got up, not bothering to hide his large erection and grabbed his robe, looking at you with a wicked smile on his lips.

“Meet me at my room in an hour.” You looked at him with pursed lips.

“What’s in it for me?” You asked teasingly. He stalked to you, grabbed you by the throat and you mewled at the touch; Goddamnit this man could murder you and you’d thank him.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, you impatient girl.”

Exactly an hour later, you knocked on his hotel-room, your heart beating out of your chest. You had a good idea about where this was leading, but you didn’t dare have any expectations to it – he might as well just give you a solid talking to for being a little too handsy.

He opened the door, smiling at you and gestured for you to step inside. When you were inside, you turned to him expectantly.

“So, what did you want?” You asked huskily. He walked to you, standing so close you could feel the rise and fall of his chest.

“What do you think, Y/N?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous. You shrugged, trying to keep your composure.

“I don’t know, eat dinner?”

“Oh, darling, there’s something I want you to eat, alright.” He moved impossibly closer, his face mere inches from yours.

“Oh?” Your voice was small, pussy throbbing at the endless ideas flooding your brain and his fucking cologne. It was like a drug.

His hand went to your cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb, before he found your eyes.

“Do you want me, Y/N?” Your breath hitched and his hand moved down slightly, his pinky now resting on your pulse-point.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because I want you.” He stated matter-of-factly, his voice honeyed. “I want to fucking violate you.” He growled, another finger falling on your pulse-point on your throat. You gulped, heat shooting straight to your pussy.

“Yeah?” He nodded, his lips almost touching yours. “Show me.”

He groaned, his lips crashing against yours hard and full of desperation, his full hand now on your throat, as he pushed you back against the door separating the living-area from the bedroom, slowly moving you backwards towards the bed as his lips danced over yours.

His hand squeezed lightly around your throat and that slight pressure was enough for you to gasp – you had never been so ready to submit to someone as you were in this very moment. He groaned and let his tongue slide against yours, his free hand finding the back of your dress and the zipper, tugging it harshly until your dress fell from your shoulders.

He detangled himself from your lips and moved the dress fully off of you, breathing heavily as he saw your form; you had decided to forgo underwear, which made his eyes darken and his fingers twitch around your throat.

“Fuck, you’re a little slut, aren’t you?” He whispered, his eyes narrowed and a dangerous smile on his lips.

“Yes, sir…” You moaned as he let a finger slide through your folds. He chuckled darkly and pushed you to your knees.

“Not sir.”

“No?” You asked, breathing heavy. He shook his head.

“I think for tonight… You can call me daddy.” He whispered, clearly testing if you were okay with it. You simply moaned in response, feeling your slick on your thighs.

“Open my pants, baby.” He commanded. Who were you to argue? You slowly opened them, inching them down his massive thighs. “God, you are submissive, darling.” You moaned as his hand fell into your hair, wrangling his fingers in it and tugged it.

“Take me in your mouth.” Your breath hitched as your fingers wrapped around the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down, letting his massive cock spring free.

“I don’t think…” You started, but he simply chuckled.

“You’ll take me.”

“Yes… Daddy.” You asked softly. He growled and the smirk on his lips widened, his cock twitching in front of you.

“Good girl.” You slowly wrapped your hand, that looked impossibly small now, around his cock, slowly pumping him. He groaned and his hips jerked, the head of him closer to your lips now – you licked your lips and looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“Can I, daddy?” You asked with big eyes.

“Yes.” You wrapped your lips around the head of him, trying to tease and take it slow, put he pulled your hair harshly, holding you firmly in his grip. You whined at the pain.

“No fucking teasing, you’ve done that enough for today. Take all of me.” He pushed against your lips, forcing his cock between your lips and you gladly opened, taking him as far down as you could. When he hit the back of your throat, you gagged slightly, already feeling how sore your jaw was going to be tomorrow.

“Oh, sweetheart, you can do more than that.” You looked at him, tears welling in your eyes and spit dribbling from your chin; you moaned as he pushed further, sinking deeper in your throat.

“Tap my thigh twice if you need to stop.” He said softly, and you nodded, your lips twitching around him. He groaned as he pulled back slightly right before slamming back into you. You gagged loudly as he started fucking your mouth, his hand in your hair, holding you in place, your hands on his thighs to steady yourself.

The sounds of him grunting, the wetness from your mouth and the feeling of his cock in your throat made you whine around him, your starving pussy clenching around noting. He growled, hips stuttering, before he picked up the pace and pushed even further, burrowing himself in you.

“Fuck, you’re…” He groaned and stopped, cock twitching in your throat, before he pulled out, leaving you a panting, dripping mess.

“Bed. Now.” He grumbled, forcing you to your feet by a tug of your hair and you followed willingly. He pushed you down on your stomach, your bare ass sticking out to him and he hummed at the sight of the glistening slick on your thighs.

“All this for me, Y/N?” he murmured, fingers coating in your slick. “

Yes, daddy…” You breathed.

“Hmm…” For a moment, you felt nothing as he stood over you. “I think you need a little punishment for what you did earlier, don’t you, baby?” he asked in a husky voice laced with lust. “Being so dirty in front of all those people…” His hand slid over your bare cheek, feather light in touch, before he drew it back.

“Count them.”

“What…” You were interrupted in what exactly you had to count, because his hand fell harshly on your ass, the echoing ring of the slap vibrating in your very core. You mewled and moaned.

“Count.” He ordered in a hard voice, his hand drawing back again.

“O-one…” His hand fell back, hitting the same spot again, your ass already burning under his hard hand. “Two, fuck!” You moaned. His hand hit down one, two, three, five, ten more times before he stilled, his hand gently rubbing the burning skin.

“Good girl. Spread your legs for daddy.” He whispered – you did, spreading your shaking legs, and felt just how wet you’d become during his spanking. It was almost embarrassing if you weren’t so fucking horny for him.

“Oh, darling, all for me?” He said huskily. You moaned your agreement before screaming, when his hand hit your bare lips, the smack wet and hard.

“You want me?” He asked, leaning over you, his cock twitching perfectly against your wet folds.

“Yes, please, daddy, please…” You moaned and pushed back a little, hoping to catch him between your wet folds.

He tutted and pulled back slightly, his fingers sliding down your back, between your cheeks until they landed on your dripping hole.

“Ask again, nicely.” He said, the tip of his thick fingers pressing against your hole. You panted.

“Please, I’m begging you…” You whispered, desperate to feel anything in you at this point. He chuckled and pushed a long digit inside of you, curling his finger, before he started pumping.

“Fuck, you barely need me to warm you up, you dirty whore.” He mumbled as the sounds of him finger fucking your wet pussy filled the room. You moaned wantonly and pushed back against him.

“More, I need more, daddy…” you pleaded, desperate for both more and faster. He chuckled.

“When you ask so nicely…” He packed another finger in you, picking up the speed and fucked you, your walls clenching around him.

“You’re not to cum before asking, got it?” His voice was commanding.

“Yes, daddy!” You almost screamed, feeling your orgasm building already – you weren’t far off, and he must’ve sensed it as well, because he picked up his speed and added another finger, filling you completely. He assaulted your senses and your dripping pussy, and you felt the coil in your abdomen ignite completely; you were so fucking close, your legs shaking under you, as he fucked you hard with his fingers.

“Please, can I cum, please, daddy…” You mewled, eyes rolling back.

“Cum for me, you fucking whore.” His free hand slid over your throat, squeezing the air out from you as you came around his fingers, the orgasm rolling over you in waves. You felt and heard the gush of your orgasm on his fingers, and he moaned feeling your wetness on him.

“Shit, Y/N.” He pulled out quickly and lined his cock against your dripping folds.

“Tell me to stop.” He asked urgently, checking one last time to see if you were truly okay with this.

“If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to…” He didn’t wait for you to finish, pushing his full length inside of you, his hand around your throat, making your back arch and breath stop – he stretched you to your limits, filling you like nobody had before and you would forever be ruined by him. He bottomed out, the tip of him hitting your cervix in a deliciously painful way, and you rolled your hips experimentally against him.

He growled and pulled back before slamming into you again, dragging against your walls, his speed wild and needy. You moaned as he brutally fucked you from behind, hand around your throat; you were seeing spots and your pussy clenched around him, trying to draw him deeper inside

“P-please, daddy…” Your voice was broken by the lack of air and he let your throat go at the same time as he slammed into you deeply, his balls hitting your overly sensitive clit. You almost roared as you came around him, him panting behind you.

“Fuck, what. Did. I. Tell. You.” He jammed his hips against your ass, burrowing inside of you as deeply as he could, his hand falling harder than ever on your exposed ass.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, daddy, sorry!” You mewled, trying to hold onto the sheets fruitlessly. He roared and spanked you again, the heat of it sending sparks through your nerves, before he leaned over you, his chest against your back.

“I’m going to fucking fill you up, Y/N.” You heaved a breath at his words. “I want to fill you and make you swell with me, you got that?” You nodded, too lost in the pleasure to tell him you were on the pill, and he pushed you against the mattress, pounding you deeply.

His hips stuttered slightly, and you moaned at the feeling of his cock swelling slightly in you, stretching you even more than you thought possible.

“You want me to fill you, baby?” He grumbled huskily and you nodded desperately. He spanked your ass again.

“Fucking words.”

“Yes! Yes, daddy, please fill me, I want to feel you cum in me, please…” You moaned wantonly, pushing back against his deep strokes and he groaned, picking up speed with faltering movements. He was close.

You felt yourself clench again, the coil in you ready to snap, and you wailed out, desperate for release.

“Please, can I cum with you, please?” You pleaded, trying your best to hold off. Your nerves were on fire, collecting in the slick heat in your stretched out pussy.

“Yes, baby.” He mumbled, his lips on your shoulder and his teeth dragging against your skin. You screamed your release as it washed over you, drenching your legs, and white-hot fire exploded under your skin.

He roared with you, his teeth burying in the soft skin of your shoulder as he stilled, cock twitching and you felt the ropes of hot cum fill you; you moaned at the warmth and fell down, your body limp under him.

He pulled out and hummed appreciatively at the cum leaking out of you, before he laid down next to you, his eyes searching yours.

As you both came down, you sighed happily, and his lips found yours in a soft kiss.

“You know this can’t happen again, right?” he asked gently. “We’re coworkers and I’m almost twenty years older than you.” You huffed and sat up, grabbing your dress from the floor.

“Oh, you just thought of that after fucking me?”

“I’m sorry, it was a lack of judgement. You should go live your life. Find someone who treats you right, you know?” You huffed and put your dress on, standing up.

“Sure thing, Daddy.”

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

Six months later, you would finally be free from him. All you had left was the goddamn premiere, but you could survive it – Henry had acted like a gentleman all filming after your little adventure, but he had not breathed a word in your direction since. The mood was tense, but the director clearly liked it, and you were left to stew on your own.

Thankfully an earlier coworker had been happy to escort you to the premiere, his hand softly on the small of your back, as you posed for pictures.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen the old man.” Chris whispered in your ear, holding you closely. “I’m guessing he has a thing for you?” He asked you with a grin. You smiled at the cameras and looked to Chris, who looked towards the other end of the red carpet.

“What the hell are you on about, Evans?” You asked with a grin, following his eyes.

Henry was glaring daggers at you both, hands fisted along his side, and you couldn’t help but feel a stir of happiness inside; at least he was finally fucking reacting to you.

“Oh, well, we had a little thing.” You whispered, making sure nobody but Chris could hear you. “But he has no right to act like that, he was the one who broke it off.” You shrugged and, for good measure, wrapped your arm around Chris as well, feeling a slight heat blossom in you at the feeling of his body against yours.

“Well, wanna give him something to really seethe over?” He asked with a wicked grin. You looked at him with narrowed eyes and could almost read his intentions in his eyes.

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on your lips; you sighed into it, your lips moving flawlessly against his, and you felt a familiar pang of lust and heat gather in your core. He pulled away as the clicks from the cameras grew to insane amounts and waved once at the cameras before moving to the inside of the theater, where Henry stood next to the door leading to the cinema, glaring at you.

He forced a smile on his face.

“Evans, it’s been a while.” Henry said tightly before nodding once at you. “Y/N.”

“Henry.” You nodded back and wrapped your arm tighter around Chris. “Hey, I’ll be right back, I just need to use the ladies room.”

“No worries, we’ve got a lot to talk about, right, man?” Chris winked at Henry and you frowned, feeling a little uneasy at the seemingly familiar report they had.

As you turned the corner from the bathroom, you spotted the two men laughing and their eyes darted to you. Chris leaned in and whispered something to Henry and even from a distance, you could see Henry’s eyes darken at whatever Chris had said.

Oh God, what had you gotten yourself involved in?

Part 2

TAGLIST:

@acaceta @a-skov @angelmather1 @cooldreamlandsandwich @est1887 @enchantedbytomandhenry @fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @keiva1000 @kebabgirl67 @luclittlepond @one-sweet-gubler @pandaxnienke @perfunctory-username69 @sleutherclaw @summersong69 @spookyboogyuniverse @stardusted26 @thereisa8ella @timetraveller4 @thatonechickhere @themanfromu

@thelastpyle @yourlocalhoney @wheretheriversrunintothesea

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[stranger-nightmare]

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲

Pairing: Kingo x (female) Eternal!Reader

Summary: responding to an ask for something ‘fun and intimate’ with Kingo. You and Kingo are enjoying dinner together, he decides he wants a taste of something else…

Warnings: fluff, the Eternals being a cute family🥺 smut, oral (f receiving), Kingo being a flirty mess, minors DNI

A/N: this is my first writing for a request so I hope you like it! I took inspiration from the request and from this scene in Eternals where they’re having a cute dinner together🥺

This is for people 18+ only. Minors do not read on. If you click ‘keep reading’ you are hereby agreeing that you are 18 or older.

It was one of those rare occasions where all of you, all of the Eternals, were actually sat down for a meal together. You all sat around the long table, enjoying the food, and each other’s company for once.

You were sat across from Kingo, who took almost every opportunity to send a flirty wink your way when no one else was looking. You and Kingo had been together for decades now, unbeknownst to your fellow Eternals. You just know how much teasing you’d get from it. For the most part it was fine, your and your fellow Eternals usually spent your time apart anyway, leaving you free to be with Kingo, it was only on these odd dinner occasions that you actually had to work at hiding your relationship. But right now, Kingo was not exactly doing a good job.

Those flirty winks sent your way eventually turned into him wiggling his eyebrows not-so-subtly at you. You just rolled your eyes and attempted to ignore him, trying to keep your focus on the story that Ikaris was telling.

Kingo, however, was persistent, eventually taking the opportunity to trace his leg up yours under the table. Now you were really getting flustered and frustrated, for sure the other Eternals would find out if he kept this up.

Eventually you can’t take it anymore, getting up from your seat you announce that you’re going to get a headstart on doing the dishes, seeing as the food portion of the dinner was over.

You’d barely reached the sink when you felt strong hands grip you from behind, spinning you around. You had just enough time to acknowledge it was Kingo before he was placing his lips on yours. You could feel his smile as he moved his lips against yours.

You shove him back gently.

“Kingo!” You whisper. “Everyone else is literally in the next room!”

“Mmm I know, but I just couldn’t resist, you just look so damn tasty, much better than Ikaris’ cooking” he coos.

You both laugh. “That’s not saying much, Ikaris’ cooking sucks” you confirm, still laughing.

“I know, I don’t know why we ever let him host this dinner” he jokes back with you. “That’s why I’ve come to get a taste of something else instead. Or rather, someone else…” he trials off, that damn eyebrow of his arching again.

You narrow your eyes at his ludicrous statement, but he simply starts wiggling his eyebrows again until you start giggling.

“We cant,” you sigh, “it’s too risky, like I said, everyone else is only a room away.”

“Well I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then won’t you?” He winks again.

He beams at you as he lifts you up and on to the kitchen counter. He then mocks your shocked expression as he hikes your skirt up slightly before hooking his fingers into your tights and underwear, pulling them down and off you.

Before you know it he’s down on his knees and pulling your legs open, taking in the sight of you. With one final wink up at you he dives his head between your thighs. The moment his tongue touches to your clit you let out a loud gasp, which causes him to pull back immediately. You whine before you see him put a finger to his lips, reminding you of the need to be quiet. You nod enthusiastically as he finally goes back in, licking right up your slit several times before pausing to pay particular attention to your clit.

He’s lapping and sucking at you like he really is a starving man, absolutely devouring you. It takes everything in you to keep your moans to yourself, especially as you start you feel the pleasure building, your orgasm getting closer and closer.

You squirm and grind against Kingo’s mouth, your one hand in his black curls and the other holding you up on the counter. Your movements combined with his mouth quickly take your fight to the edge, your climax beginning to wash over you. You have to take your hand out of Kingo’s hair to clamp over your mouth as you attempt to muffle the moan that escapes you as you cum.

You look down just in time to see Kingo stand back up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket. He makes a face as if accessing something.

“Hmm, I can now confirm you definitely do in fact taste better than Ikaris’ cooking” he grins at you.

“Ha very funny” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes. You’re about to pull him for a kiss when…

“Are you guys done yet?!” You suddenly hear Sprite yell from round the corner.

You freeze and Kingo both freeze, wide eyed.

“What? I thought we were quiet!” You whisper harshly at Kingo.

“Oh you were” you hear Phastos call.

Suddenly all the Eternals round the corner, confronting you and Kingo in the kitchen. You move to stand behind Kingo, rushing to pull your skirt back down. You move to just have your head peaking round Kingo’s side, taking in all your fellow Eternals as they fill the kitchen.

“Then, h-how did…?” Kingo trials off.

“Oh well we may not have heard of you, but unfortunately for you Makkari picked up on the vibrations happening in here, she was not best pleased so decided to share with the group so we could all share in her misery at hearing you two going at it” Druig drawls, smirking smugly.

“Makkari!” You chastise her.

“Sorry” she signs at you whilst shrugging.

“So how long has this been going on then?” Sersi asks. You and Kingo share a bashful look before all of you burst out laughing together.

—————

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#marvel eternals #eternals #kingo fic #kingo fanfiction #kingo x reader #kingo smut #kingo imagine #eternals kingo #kingo x y/n #kingo x you #marvel imagine #eternals imagine #druig #druig imagine #druig oneshot #druig smut #druig x reader #druig x y/n #druig x you #drukkari #kingo

[spvilers]

LITTLE WOMEN & CONFESSIONS — R. ROTH

ღ summary; you and rachel have a sleepover like usually, but this one is going to change everything.

ღ pairing; rachel roth x fem!reader

ღ warnings; mentions of vomiting

author’s note; season three rachel was literally so gorgeous wth

“WHY ARE YOU looking at me like that?”

Rachel quickly shook out of her trance. you were laying on her bed in the starfish position, looking at the wall above you.

Rachel chuckled, to overplay her nervousness, “You can’t even see me, how would you know if I was staring?”

You smile to yourself, “Because I know you.”

Rachel can hardly fight the blush that makes its way on her face. You see, ever since Rachel figured out her feelings for you last week, she’s been on the edge around you. She thought you didn’t notice, well at least she hoped so, but of course, you did.

You just know her all too well.

Three months ago, you and Rachel made a promise to have a sleepover every two weeks and you kept your promise but for the last weeks, you both were so stressed that you had to cancel the last one. but you were both glad you had time for each other now.

And even though she was glad she can finally spend time with you now, she felt like she had to vomit because she planned on telling you about her feelings tonight.

She literally had the whole thing planned out with a little help from Kori, Gar, and Dawn, first you two would order pizza, then watch Little Women because you two just love that movie, and then at the part where Amy tells Laurie “Well I believe we have some power over who we love…” she then would turn to you and tell you that she likes you.

It did not go that way.

The two of you ordered pizza and settled on her bed to watch Little Women, and for the first time, Rachel did not pay attention to the movie, she paid attention to the girl that sitting very close to her, your shoulders were touching.

Rachel watched the way you quietly yawned to yourself, the way your hair framed your beautiful face, the curve of your lips, and your eyes that, even from the side, held a thousand stars in them.

Soon enough Rachel missed the important Amy scene because she was too fixated on you, and man, did she curse herself for it. After the movie ended, you both settled into the bed and stared up at the wall above you.

You were so glad that Rachel wasn’t able to hear your heart beating, you didn’t even know when your feelings for her changed, but they did, drastically.

It was just like, one morning you woke up and were like Oh my god ! I’m in love with Rachel!

Of course, the first person that knew was Donna and then Dick. You couldn’t even try to keep a secret from them if you wanted to, they always found out.

You guys had it all planned out, you would order pizza and then watch Little Women and when the part comes where Jo is like “I just feel like women…” you would turn to her and tell her about your feelings.

But of course, being the coward that you are, you didn’t. You were too busy trying not to look at Rachel and to stop your hands from sweating so much. The whole movie you could feel Rachel eyes on you and you asked yourself if she knew what was going on.

Now you were both laying on Rachel’s bed, no words exchanged between the two of you. Her purple L.E.D. lights being the only thing lighting up the room. It was complete quiet.

That was until Rachel sighed and turned her head to you. Out of instinct, you turned your head to her too, you were so close your noses were almost touching. you thought you saw Rachel‘s eyes flicker down to your lips but that was probably just wishful thinking.

“Hey.” you whispered, a small smile playing on your lips.

Rachel smiled too and your stomach filled with butterflies, “Hey.” she whispered softly, she liked having you this close.

But as quickly as the moment came, it was gone again and Rachel's beautiful smile formed into a frown and she stared up again.

Your brows furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?” you shuffled closer to her.

Rachel sighed, “I’m such an idiot.” she closed her eyes, “I was supposed to tell someone about my feelings today, but of course I completely messed up and chickened out.” she sat up now, still closing her eyes.

Wait a minute. Rachel has told you about her day, and she didn’t meet anyone except you today.

Does that mean-

Before you could think about it any further you sat up too and blurted out the question, “Who do you have feelings for?” your heart was beating so loud again that you feared she could hear it.

Rachel sighed yet again. “You. And I’m sorry if messed up our friendship-“

You quickly shut her up by placing your lips on hers. Rachel's eyes shot open at the sensation but quickly closed again and began to melt into the kiss. After you two parted your rested your foreheads against each other and smiled.

“I like you too, Rach.” her smile widened. “Actually I was supposed to tell you today too, I had the whole thing planned out with Dick and Donna but I was too scared.”

Rachel chuckled. “I had the whole thing planned out too, with help from Kori, Gar, and Dawn, I was supposed to tell you when we were watching Little Women at the scene with Amy and Laurie where she says ‘I believe we have some power over who we love’ but i was too scared too.” your smile grew and you placed another sweet kiss on her lips.

“Wait, wait, wait-“ Rachel parted from you. “Does that mean that we’re together now? Like you’re my girlfriend?”

You smiled and nodded. “As long as you’ll be mine.” Rachel nodded happily and quickly placed her lips on yours again.

#rachel roth #rachel roth x reader #raven #raven dc #raven x reader #dc #imagine #x reader #dc comics #dc x reader #dc imagine #dick grayson #titans #dc titans #donna Troy #koriandr #garfield logan #dawn granger #wlw #wlw imagine #wlw post

[koushou]

an archon’s jealousy

pairing : zhongli x f!reader {fluff}

warnings : none! zhongli cuteness overload 

word count : 1.8k

a/n : genshin has taken over my life so enjoy my favorite peepaw 

the geo archon, once feared by all beings in teyvat, was known for his strength and abilities in battle, as well as his logical way of thinking and planning. his weakness? well, he’s definitely not great with emotions. especially jealousy.

“Ah, this painting reminds me of when an old friend and I had been travelling together for the first time, there was-” 

Zhongli turns around, smiling as he reminisces of events from hundreds of years ago, however turning into a frown quickly. 

His golden eyes scan the dining room, sighing as they fail to identify a certain someone. Placing his cup of tea down onto the polished wooden table, he walks out to the private balcony area of Wangmin Restaurant, breathing in the familiar fresh air of the nation he’d known for as long as he existed.

It had been two days.

Two days since he’s spoken to his lover, two days since the small quarrel you both had in the exact restaurant he’s currently standing in.

It had been quite a trivial matter in his opinion, when a young waitress working there had just been a tad kinder to the geo archon, leaving a few light touches here and there. Even “accidentally” spilling tea over herself, putting on a show of cleaning herself. 

Not noticing the dark glare of his lover from across the table, he offers the apologizing waitress a small smile, assuring her it wasn’t a big deal. As she walks away, he finally turns back to the now fuming Y/N who was shoving food down her throat to avoid speaking to him.

He chuckles softly, still unaware of the reason for your anger, “Love, slow down, the food isn’t going anywhere.”

Refusing to acknowledge his presence, you huff and continue chewing your food as if he wasn’t even there. Zhongli looks at you with a confused expression, but just before he had a chance to speak, the waitress returns.

She takes a few of your plates that were finished being used, occasionally sending small looks at your boyfriend, oblivious to the whole situation.

“I love your earring, Mr. Zhongli,” she bats her eyelashes at the man, your man, as she continues cleaning the table at record slow speed. 

“Ah, thank you.” He sends a small nod her way, not noticing the way she might as well be sitting on top of him with the close proximity of their two bodies. 

“Where did you get it from?” You roll your eyes while still focusing on your food, anyone could tell the way she was speaking in a faker, higher tone.

“Actually, they were gifted from an old friend of mine, we would travel together all the time and-” Zhongli goes off on one of his rants again, to the waitress’s pleasant surprise. To your shock, she takes a seat right next to your unsuspecting boyfriend who was still speaking, nodding along with his words. 

The audacity of this bi-

You slam your hands on the table abruptly, stopping Zhongli in his story as he looks up at you.

You shoot the coldest stare at him, one that even the geo archon, who had fought every monster, travelled to every corner of the world, swore sent shivers through his body.

“Love?”

“I’m finished, have fun on your date,” You spat, emphasizing the last word, and you could’ve sworn you saw the waitress roll her eyes.

Leaving Zhongli still in a confused state, you stormed out of the room, not paying mind to the distant protests of your boyfriend.

Zhongli sighs, snapping out of his thoughts, leaning against the railing of the balcony. He had walked out and tried to find you, but failed and you hadn’t appeared since.

After finally consulting Childe, the last person he’d ever want to speak to, about why you had acted like the way you did, he simply laughed at the man, claiming that you had been feeling jealous.

That had left Zhongli even more confused. Jealous? He was simply sharing his tales with a curious person, what was there to be jealous of?

He sighs again, ready to head back into the dining room until he spots a familiar figure below him.

You were standing below the balcony he was on, not seeming to realize he was there. Zhongli breathes a sigh of relief, oh how he missed seeing you. About to go down and surprise you, he stops in his tracks when he sees a young man walk up to you and begin talking.

An unfamiliar feeling seeps through his body when you laugh at something the stranger said, a wonderful sound he thought was reserved for him, and him only. 

You probably knew each other, that’s why you guys looked so close, right? Friends can laugh at each other, of course there was nothing wrong with the scene unfolding before the archon. That’s why the man’s hand had reached towards a stray strand of hair and tucked it behind your ear, right?

Zhongli grits his teeth, and makes his way down the restaurant as fast as his feet could take him.

He could hear you giggling upon walking out the restaurant’s doors, and quickly makes his way to you.

Walking up behind you, he slips an arm around your waist and pulls you softly back against his chest. 

You let out a surprised yelp, ready to attack whoever was touching you, until you turned and saw that it had just been your boyfriend, who seemed to be seething at the moment.

“Zhongli..?” Something about him seemed a little different, maybe it was the way he glared daggers into the other man who had just been talking to you and touching you. 

If looks could kill? Let’s just say The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor has an extra client today. 

“Hey love, I missed you,” Zhongli presses a kiss to your cheek, “Who might this be?” 

A bit flustered from the contact, you looked at the other man who seemed on the verge of peeing himself right there, and had to suppress a laugh.

“Ah, this is just a friend I met a few days ago when I was exploring, he-“

Before you could finish your sentence, the man stutters out an incoherent sentence and almost trips over himself running off in the other direction.

You raise an eyebrow, turning your head back to look at Zhongli who was still holding you protectively against him. He had created a small yellow meteor in his hand and was currently levitating it above his palm in a threatening manner.

He turns to you, putting the meteor away, smiling as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“Zhongli, you scared him away.”

He puts on a thinking face, nodding slowly.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, no— That’s it? You probably scared the poor man into thinking you were going to murder him or somethin-”

He chuckles and raises your chin up to face him with one finger, “Then maybe next time, he should think before touching something that belongs to me.”

You huff, cheeks tinting the lightest shade of red before pushing him away.

“Whatever, I’m going now.”

You start to walk away, not before Zhongli catches your arm and stops you.

“Love, are you still angry?”

You could hear the concern in your boyfriend’s voice, and your heart softens a bit. In truth, you had already forgotten the incident back at the restaurant a few days ago and was about to apologize today when the man from before had stopped you. 

A lightbulb went off in your head, so you decide to play with him a little longer. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Snatching your hand back from his grasp, you continue walking away from your surprised boyfriend.

He quickly follows you, unsure of how to continue. He couldn’t just ask you if you had been jealous, could he?

As your boyfriend got lost in his thoughts of how to ask, you almost laughed at his intense thinking face while nervously walking beside you. 

“Uh, I-,” He cleared his throat before speaking.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you that day, I did not realize that it would have made you feel jealous.” 

He takes both of your hands in his, softly enveloping them as he continues.

“From now on, I promise that I’ll only share my stories with you, and you only, so don’t worry, love.”

He smiles at you, as you suddenly burst out in laughter. 

“What is so funny?” Zhongli asks, confused.

“Nothing, nothing at all, baby,” You finally recover from your laughing and wrap your arms around his waist.

Leaning your head against his chest, you couldn’t help but smile at the way your boyfriend thought you were upset because he was sharing his stories with another person, when you had just been jealous of another woman being so close to him. It was adorable.

Deciding not to tease him any further, you lift your head up from his chest to press a kiss against his lips. 

His eyes brighten instantly. “So, does this mean you forgive me?” 

If Zhongli was a dog, his tails would be wagging expectantly at you with puppy dog eyes right now.

You giggle, nodding at him. “Of course I forgive you, just don’t talk to other girls like that again.”

You pout, as he chuckles and leans down to give you another kiss. 

“I promise, love.” He softly strokes your hair, running the strands through his fingers.

“I also didn’t like seeing you with that man, so don’t let anyone besides me touch you, alright?”

You smile against him, nodding and opening your mouth to speak again when your stomach suddenly rumbles.

Eyes widening, you push away a now laughing Zhongli, embarrassed.

“I assume you’re hungry, my love?” He teases at you, taking your hand in his as he begins to walk the both of you back to Wangmin Restaurant.

“Who was the one who cut my meal short two days ago? I barely had anything to eat recently because I didn’t have any mora on me.” You take your hand out of his hold, crossing your arms and looking the other way.

He laughs softly at you, taking your hand back and kissing your knuckles softly. 

“Ah, you haven’t been eating welI?” He looks at you with concern laced in his golden eyes.

“I apologize, darling, but… I have something to confess to you.”

You turn to him, curious at his words. “What is it?”

“I..do not have mora on me at the moment either.”

“What?! You’re literally the god of mora, Zhongli, but you don’t even-“

He cuts you off short with a kiss, smirking against your lips as he feels you blush.

Pulling away, he chuckles and shrugs. “We can go ask Childe, come on.”

You laugh and continue walking with him, “Poor Childe, at least he’s useful for one thing.”

Zhongli lets out a laugh, as you two walk off, hand in hand, searching for your human wallet.

#zhongli x reader #zhongli #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #zhongli fluff #jealous zhongli #genshin oneshot #zhongli oneshot #rex lapis #morax x reader #genshin morax #rex lapis x reader #genshin rex lapis #genshin oneshots #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact fluff #zhongli x reader fluff #genshin x reader fluff

[rocorambles]

Ruined Innocence

Pairing: Fallen Angel!Daichi x Angel!Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Manipulation, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Tentacles-ish, Forced Bondage, Corruption Kink, Dacryphilia

Summary: Not everyone is what they appear to be and you learn that the hard way.

A/N: This is for @seijorhi 's Deal with the Devil Collab! Masterlist can be found here.

You don’t love the way older angels endearingly pinch your cheeks and fondly ruffle the top of your head, sending you off on your way as they go about their chores. But you love the freedom to explore that comes with your new wings and you flit around heaven, adventuring out to the corners of the beautiful realm, eyes sparkling and mouth open wide in wonder as you see visions and scenes you wouldn’t even have been able to imagine back when you were a human.

Most angels congregate with each other, floating and meandering together as they perform their heavenly duties, content with harmony and unity. But maybe because your newly purified soul is still finding its way, you feel antsy, a very human adventurous streak still driving you as you sniff out remote and quiet corners, eager to see what’s around every corner.

There’s not a hint of wariness or sense of danger as you trek around, squealing as you continue testing your wings. Maybe it’s naivety, but who can blame you? You’re in heaven. Why would you ever think anything or anyone would harm you here?

Little do you know the archangels whisper to each other, sentries standing guard at every known opening between realms as the threat of warfare and espionage increases between heaven and hell after a devastating betrayal by one of God’s own most trusted archangels.

Sawamura Daichi.

It’s a name and a face that God has striked from heaven’s history, wiping the minds of anyone outside his inner circle clear of to maintain peace among the realm. And it works. Maybe too well.

A handsome brunette amusedly smiles at the lack of fear and recognition in your face as you cheerfully greet him, not a care in the world as you perk up and fly over to him, curious about the strange angel you’ve never met before.

Daichi had only meant to sneak in and out, hopefully spy and return back to hell with any secret information he could get out of his old fellow archangels. But like an attuned predator, his attention had snapped at the pretty little fawn he had seen playing in the outskirts of heaven, so vulnerable, so far from the rest of your feathery flock. And his mouth had salivated, something dark and yearning inside of him as he imagined how delicious corrupting your soft and sweet soul would be.

There’s no lack of powerful, beautiful, sensual female entities in hell willing to warm his bed. Daichi knows from firsthand experience, rarely spending a night alone. Even eternity is too short not to indulge in the sins of the flesh. But a part of him misses the docile submissive natures of angels, the thrill of power he feels knowing how easily his more angelic partners would listen and obey to his every whim and fancy. Playing with your food is all fun and games, but Daichi’s always found the actual act of devouring to be the best part of any meal. And you look absolutely mouth watering.

It doesn’t concern you that you’ve never seen this handsome angel before. Heaven is vast and as a novice angel, you’re sure there’s plenty of feathery companions you haven’t met yet. You’re more pleasantly surprised by the fact that there even is another angel in your secluded nook of the realm. And you’re quick to get comfortable with Daichi (although you blush when he so quickly tells you to call him by his first name).

He’s kind and funny. You can tell he’s actually listening to your every word and not just politely nodding like most of the other older angels you’ve met so far. He has a certain vibrancy to him that you can’t pinpoint, something so much more raw and vivid than what you’re used to from the more austere and demure palette of the rest of heaven.

But you startle when Daichi suddenly reaches out and slowly trails his fingers along the soft velvety plush of your wings, eliciting a startled gasp from you and a strange stirring feeling inside of you.

“They’re so pure and white.”

You try to laugh off the way your heart is pounding, the way your body wants to instinctively lean in closer to his warm touch as he continues languidly stroking your wings.

“Don’t be silly, Daichi. I’m sure your wings are just as pure and white, just like everyone else in this realm.”

You’re confused by his silent smile as he continues lacing his fingers between your downy feathers, but you don’t think to question it, not when it feels so right to just melt in the soothing feeling.

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you startle awake when someone nudges you, face heating in embarrassment when you realize you’ve fallen asleep quite literally in Daichi’s arms. But you shyly smile when he waves off your profuse apologies, playfully whispering that you can make it up to him by keeping your meeting with him a secret so he doesn’t get in trouble for slacking off on work to hang out with you.

Your lips are sealed and in return for your slightly naughty deal, your heart warms and your eyes sparkle when he somehow finds you almost every day. You’re tempted to make a game of it, wondering if you made more of an effort to hide if he’d still find you. But somehow deep inside you know he would, that it wouldn’t deter him at all. And that thought alone brings a smile to yourself.

Is this what having a soulmate feels like? Do angels even have soulmates?

You know marriage is still a thing in this realm and you can feel yourself falling more and more head over heels for Daichi, letting yourself dream and think of what life would be like married to him, by his side for all of eternity. It would be a wondrous thing. A life full of adventures, laughter, kindness, and warmth. A life where you know you could always depend on him and trust him.

So when he kisses you one day, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you in close, you don’t resist. Instead you sigh in bliss as you feel your lips meld against each other. He’s so gentle, so careful as he deepens your connection, coaxing you into following his lead as he maneuvers the two of you on the wispy cloud cocoon beneath your feet.

You feel so loved, so taken care of as he murmurs sweet praises in your ear about how beautiful you are, how soft you are, how sweet you taste. But when you find yourself horizontal beneath him, scandalously molded to his body, hesitation and apprehension have you reluctantly separating your lips.

“What’s wrong?”

His hand cups your cheek, brown eyes staring down at you in concern and you feel more at ease as you nuzzle against his palm, gently pecking the center of it, ignorant of the way brown eyes darken at the action.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

“Can we- Can we slow down a bit? I love you, but we shouldn’t go any further until God blesses our relationship and we’re married. Right?”

It’s adorable how you know what’s right by heavenly standards, what you should and shouldn’t be doing. Yet there’s still a questioning lilt in your voice as you look at him for guidance, ready to take his lead and listen to whatever he says. You really are precious, aren’t you?

“We’ll be together forever. So what’s the harm in indulging ourselves now if we know that we’ll be bound for eternity anyway? Consider it a little sneak peek. Surely God will be forgiving if we go straight to him after this and ask him to bless our union.”

Hook. Line. Sinker.

He internally smirks at how your eyes light up when he expresses his desire to be with you. To his defense, it’s not a lie. He truly does want you with him forever, although he doubts it’s in the way you’re thinking. He’s no mind reader, but he can imagine the scenes of soft radiant glowing days and peaceful strolls hand in hand that race through your mind when you think of love. Unfortunately for you, the reality you’re being sucked into is much darker and much more stationary. (He sincerely hopes you appreciate the costs and efforts he’s gone through to spruce up his bedroom and bed as much as possible for your long-term stay considering it’s the only place he intends for you to see for at least a few centuries.)

This time you welcome him when he swoops down to capture your lips once more, your arms gently wrapping around the back of his neck as you pull him down even closer to you. You bare your neck, easily following his silent commands as he trails kisses down from the corner of your lips to the side of your neck, gasping and arching into him when his tongue swipes a hot wet line at the junction of your shoulder.

You’re nervous as he coaxes you out of your delicate clothing and his cock twitches in interest at how you try to instinctively shield your body from his eyes, your arms crossing your chest, thighs clenching together. So different from the shameless females down below and he enjoys how it feels like he’s unwrapping an exclusive present as he eases your body, comfortingly kissing you as he guides your hands above your head and nudges your legs apart until he’s in between them.

You moan, writhing underneath him in a way that makes him groan as he sucks one of your nipples, rolling the other between his fingers. And he can’t resist how right it feels to grind and rut his clothed cock against your bare core, chuckling at how you whine and get flustered as he whispers to you about how wet you are, how much of a mess you’re making of his clothing.

You’re so sensitive, so reactive. He wonders if you could cum just like this, nipples toyed with and humping like wild beasts. You certainly look like you’re almost there and a mean smile splays across his face when he wonders what God would think if he saw his baby angel now, a lewd blissful expression blatant on your face, wanton moans filling the air. But time is limited especially when he’s not on his own turf and as much as he’d like to ruin you over and over again right here, right now, he knows he needs to deal the final blow.

He’s quick to shed his own clothing, firmly wrapping your spread legs around him as he finally sinks his cock inch by inch inside of you, throwing his own head back in pleasure as your tight wet walls wrap around him, eagerly sucking him in and clenching around him. It’s like you were made for him, made for this. And his eyes ravenously watch as you mindlessly blabber on and on about feeling full, feeling good.

He doesn’t usually like noisy bed mates, but you might be the one exception and he revels in your wails and broken cries as he begins to move his hips back and forth, observing how his fat cock obscenely stretches your pretty folds as he thrusts in and out. It’s impressive how you’re still hanging by a single fraying strand of consciousness when even seasoned succubi have succumbed into mindless pleasure-addicted messes from his cock. And he gifts the slipping clarity of your mind that recognizes him and calls his name over and over again with skillful circles around your clit, relentless until you’re thrashing and convulsing, practically screaming as you fall over the edge, pussy milking him and begging for his essence.

Who is he to deny you what your body wants? What your body needs? What he himself wants and needs?

So he finally lets himself go, sealing the deal with his own release, eyes twinkling in crazed amusement as his own wings finally flair out, revealing themselves to you for the first time as his body lances with pleasure. A sound halfway between a laugh and a groan escapes him as fear has you tightening around him and if he thought you looked beautiful before, you’re absolutely stunning now, shock and disbelief slicing across your perfect angelic face when you fully grasp the importance of his pitch black wings that shadow the both of you.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. I thought you loved me.”

There’s no point in pretending to be gentle now and he forcefully pins your body down, slamming his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, biting on your lower lip and lapping at the blood that drips from your now marred face. Delicious. So fucking exquisite.

It’s tempting to continue and as he pulls away to regard you, he can feel arousal swirling inside of him at the sight of glistening tears streaming down your face. But he’s curious about your reaction, eager to hear what you have to say about this utter betrayal.

“A fallen angel…I slept with a fallen angel. How am I ever going to face God now?”

You’re not even looking at him anywhere, eyes glazed over as you mumble to yourself, mind still trying to process everything. And as pretty as you are with agony and sickening realization settling into your features, he scowls at the mention of God, irritation swelling inside of him at how fast you are to think of Him over Daichi, the fallen angel literally still inside of you.

He’s swift in his punishment, reminding you exactly where you are and who you’re with right now as he sharply juts his hips in a way that forces a surprised shriek from you as his cock rubs against your still sensitive walls.

“God isn’t your problem anymore, love. Look at your wings.”

Every part of you still in denial screams at you not to listen, to pretend none of this has happened, is happening. You want to believe God can make this right, that he’ll surely forgive you. But as if you’re in one of those inevitable horror films you used to watch as a human, your head slowly turns to the side, body going rigid when you see the expanse of ebony feathers where heavenly white used to be.

Now this reaction is much more satisfying and Daichi inhales your fear, a cold smile on his face as he watches you flail, wings wildly flapping as you try to somehow shake off the color, praying that it’s all a lie, that it’s not entirely irreversible. But he pins your wrists above your head when you attempt to painfully pluck out your own offensive feathers, peppering humiliatingly affectionate kisses all over your face to placate you.

“Please stop. Isn’t this enough? You got what you wanted. Tricked the silly angel. Made me an exile, a monster. There’s no place for me in heaven anymore. So just leave me alone. Please.”

You shudder at the dark laugh that seems to echo in your ears with his face right besides yours, cringing when you feel his wings droop down to rest against your own in an action far too intimate for what the two of you are.

“It’s not enough, darling. It’ll never be enough. But you’re right about one thing. You’re no longer welcomed in heaven, so let me bring you to your new home.”

You barely have time to understand the meaning of his words before you’re being whisked away, strong arms holding you tightly to a broad chest, the air around you growing darker, heavier, warmer. And then suddenly everything is still and you gasp as you’re thrown onto a silky plush surface, scrambling to sit up only to freeze in terror as you take in the grand and imposing bedroom you’re in, cold realization of exactly whose bed you’re currently on and what realm you’re in sinking in.

“No no no no no...At least let me go to Earth!”

You make to lunge off the bed, but an eerily familiar body forces you back down, once comforting brown eyes now only making anxiety churn alarmingly inside of you.

“I know it’s hard to believe me after all the lies, but I wasn’t lying about one thing. I do intend to be with you forever, so get comfortable, angel.”

You recoil at the mocking sneer associated with the pet name, the ironic use of the word disintegrating any fight left in you when the true hopelessness of your situation makes itself known. And Daichi watches in satisfaction at how you don’t even twitch as black shadows coil around your wrist and ankles, pulling you into a spread-eagled position, leaving your beautiful naked figure on full display for him.

But as despondent as you are mentally and emotionally, your body is already well on its way to adjusting and molding to his desires and he hungrily eyes the way it betrays you, arching and silently begging for more as additional shadow tendrils snake their way on and around every inch of you, some tendrils beginning to make their way in your gaping mouth, your still cum-filled hole, and oh...maybe he should have warned you that he planned on training all your holes, but he does so love the way your eyes blow wide open when a curios tendril wiggles its way into your puckered hole.

“Consider this your new full-time job, angel. Can’t have you living here rent-free after all. Now be good while I’m away and try not to be so loud. Wouldn’t want anyone else to hear you and decide they want a taste of a new fallen angel. I guarantee you no one else down here in hell is going to be as patient and kind as I am. Welcome to your new forever home.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, not that you’d be able to utter anything remotely intelligible around your screams and moans and the tendrils fucking your mouth. And as he makes his way to another meeting with Satan, he proudly flaunts his pitch black wings, a thoughtful smile on his face as he thinks of all the plans he has for you.

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #yandere daichi #daichi smut #daichi x reader #haikyuu x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #deal with the devil collab

[jt-artsandfics]

Hello :D everything ok?I wanted to ask you, how do you think MK11's men would react, his girlfriend is always affectionate with them, but out of nowhere she stopped being affectionate, after a while she tells them that she has pain in her stomach because of too much excitement, she thinks they are really sexy (her arms, legs, chest, all of them) and she wants to have intimacy but she was embarrassed. I adore you!!! Thank you!I adore Raiden and Fujin so much 😍

Mortal kombat Men x Female Reader

(Mind you all I'm a guy so I'll do my best to work this to the best of my ability I sadly don't have all the men but I'll do a few of the boys) if you guys would like more of them I'm happy to do a part 2 to this.

Mention of Sex, sex talks, nsfw mentioned, hinted sex scenes, romance and fluff.

Raiden

Raiden has never really been used to affection, not physical intimacy. But after he met his sweet S/O it became an almost constant contact, it takes him a while to get used to it but all up he loves it, he lose so much tension in his body. He loves having his S/o curled up on his lap, wirh them watching her trashy tv shows or him reading. It's something he has grown so accusation to over the time he's been with his lover. So for her to one day just stop it's almost painful for him. The first day he let's it slide thinking she's just having an off day but when it comes around too the second night. When she doesn't curl up beside him he sits up beside her. " My light?, are you well" he ask softly resting his hand on her shoulder, she turns to face him and smiles sadly. "I'm alright just in a little pain" he's filled with worry and basically scopes her up into his arms. "Do you need medical assistance" she laughs lightly pulling him down into a kiss. "I'm alright Raiden, my body sometimes hurts when I get too excited, I just... I love you alot, and I want to express it more" she explains. He's still worried that he is responsible for the pain she is in. "Is there anything I can do to help with your pain?" She thinks alright before replying. "Umm.. It's kinda embarrassing..." He smiles lightly as he holds her close. "You do not need to be embarrassed with me love" he presses a soft kiss to her forehead. "I... I want to be more intimate with you" "as in intercourse?" His lovers face goes bright red as she blushes. "Yes, but only if your interested" "We will take it slow, you will need to instruct me, as I have never done this before"

Fujin

Unlike his brother Fujin love physical contact from the start. This man gives amazing hugs and will quite literally sweep you off your feet. So he will realise very quickly when his S/o is distancing herself from him. "My love? care you alright, you haven't been as touchy as in used to you being, have I don't something wrong?" He will ask hoping he hasn't don't something to offend her. "I'm alright Fu, just in a bit of pain is all, sorry to cause you any trouble" she whispers. He's is quick to pull her into a hug, "Is it anything I can help with, I don't like seeing you in pain love" he says while gently holding her. They stand there Fujin holding his sweet love before she speaks up. "I get this pain when I get too excited and I really love you, your handsome and kind and I love spending every moment with you" she explains while resting her head on his shoulder. He holds her softly rocking back and forth lightly. "I wish to spend every waking moment with you my sweet sunshine, I'm yours" he says as he presses a gentle kiss too her forehead. He can see that she's holding something back, something which is bugging her. "My love, there's something else isn't there?, you can tell me, I will not judge." He reassures her. She looks to him and then to the floor them back to him. "I... I'd like to be more intimate with you if you would like, I.. you.. you make me feel safe when your around and would like to be yours if you will have me" she says shying away. Fujin smiles brightly leaning down to kiss her. "I would be honoured my love, we will take it at your pace, I do not wish to over step boundaries, you are very important to me." He tells her in a hushed voice. "I love you Fujin" "and I You my little sunshine"

Hasashi Hanzo

Hanzo has been thought hell and back literally, he's lost the only people he cared for before his S/o came along. It took him a long time to get used to so much affection, not to mention different in cultures and time. Alot has changed since he was first in earthrealm. Along with being the head of the Shirai ryu, there are alot of thinks he wishes to keep to himself, one of those is you. Although there are many among his students who know of you two he is still very hesitant of showing affection outside of you're home. He loves you very dearly and do not wish to lose one of the few things he holds dear.

But nothing gets past this man, he may not say it right away but he notices the first time you don't take a chance to hold him that day. He sees toy distancing yourself from him and it causes worry over anything. Had someone hurt you? And now he stand beside you in the fire gardens in the late evening. "Chīsana honō, are you well, I've noticed you have been avoid touching me, are you hurt?" Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. "No, no I'm not hurt but I am in pain, i... I get excited seeing you and being near you and sometimes it just hurts inside." She tries to explain to him. He moves closer gentle bring his hand up to brush away some stray hairs hanging in her face, wishing not to spook her. "Have I caused you pain?" She shakes her head before leaning onto his hand. "No, I...I just don't want to push you, I understand that Harumi meant the world to you, and I dotn want to replace her. But I do love you and I want you to be happy" she says as he pulls her close holding her gentle against his chest as they sway lightly in the brezze that rolls thought the fire gardens. "You will never replace Harumi, and I do not expect you too, I am very lucky to have had her in my life for the time I did, and I am so fortunate to have found you, I have been given a second chance at life, and it's one I wish to treasure as much as I can." His voice is soft and it's what his little flame needs to hear. They stand there for a little basking in each others warmth and company. "What brought this on fiery one?, you normally very vocal about your wishes. Have I done anything to dull your fire?" She shakes her head before resting it against his shoulder. "No, I just started thinking things, but do not want to push you, as much as I would love to be more intimate, I understand that you still morne and I do not wish for you to forget Harumi" she says lightly again. Hanzonsighs lightly "perhaps it is time that I do love on, she wa any first love and will always be in my heart, but you are my love as well and you are very dear to me sweet one"

Kuai Laing

Kuai is a little oblivious when it comes to romance not only wirh the way he was raised and how his brother acted when he was younger made the man quite shy in certain aspects and situations but when it comes to how his lover feels and realising they haven't touched him as much as they normally do is is a little concerned. Later that day he seeks them out in the comfort of his own home. He finds his little ice fairy sat on the couch curled up in blankets. He nearly falls face first into her lap as he crawls onto the loauge, something he was still getting used to. "Is it getting a little too cold to hold me now?" He ask lightly looking up into her eyes as he makes himself comfortable with his head in her lap. Her fingers twitch before giving in and running over his face and thought his hair. "No, no Kuai, just haven't been well kinda in a bit of pain" she explains lightly. He speaks up in concern. "Are you hurt?" "No just um.. getting to excited around makes my body hurt sometimes, I enjoy being close to you" she says reassuring him that he's done nothing and she isn't hurt. He sighs in relief as he runs a cold hand up to the side of her face smil ijng lightly as he plays with a small part of her hair. " Is there any way I can make up for such a pain I bring you?" She laughs lightly before smiling at him. "Come up here and kiss me would make up for it" he chuckles moving to sit up and pull here into a kiss, it's heated and sweet something they both enjoy. He pulls away resting his forehead against hers. "I hope that will suffice but I'm happy to give more " he replys. "For someone cold to the touch your fucking hot you know that" he laughs again pulling her closer go his body, wrapping them both up in that blanket. "I know I don't normally watch Television but tonight I just want t to be close to you so put on what ever you wish my little snowflake." He says placing more kisses on her skin. "God's I love you, you know" she smiles leaning up to kiss him again. "And I love you very, very much my sweet love, my little starlight and snow drop."

"Get over here, sweet talker"

Ft sub-zero Bi-han becuase I'm a slut for him

Bi-han did what he wanted most times, he had many lovers over time most were just to saite his desires, but his S/o was very much different form the many woman and men he had been with.

And it's the reason he wishes to take things slow. Even thought it is very much the opposite of how he normally was. He had aged out of his rebels teen years. And found someone that makes him feel complete. Bi-han is the less likely our of the bunch to realise his S/o is distancing herself from him. But when he does figure it out he is very handsy. "My soul, are you alright?, you have been avoiding me. Have I done something to anger you" he ask pulling her close to him resting his head over her shoulder as he wraps his arms around her stomach and pulls her against his chest. "I'm alright Bi-han just haven't been feeling well" she replys earning a rasied eyebrow from him. "Snowflake, are you pregnant?" Is the first thing that he ask. It's quite before She starts laughing lightly. "Bi-han, you haven't even slept with me and I don't exactly leave the house so if hope the fuck not" she says laughing as she leans back into him. "It made you smile, and I do so love it when you smile so brightly my love." He replys and leave small kisses agaisnt her neck. "But that is something I wish to speak to you about" she says turning around to face him. " Pregnancy?"

"No, that I would like you to sleep with me, Bi-han."

"And perhaps get you pregnant?" He jokingly jest . She lightly punches his shoulder. " Do you have baby fever that badly?" She ask looking up in to his eyes. "I just would love to see you with a child, you would make a beautiful mother my love, and perhaps baby fever is part of it too" he hums before pulling hsiblove in for another kiss. "Your a tease toy know"

"Just for you my snowflake"

#mortal kombat x reader #fujin mortal kombat #mortal kombat #mortal kombat raiden #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat scorpion #mortal kombat sub zero #raiden #raiden x reader #mk11 fujin #fujin x reader #hanzo hasashi #Hasashi Hanzo x reader #scorpion x reader #sub zero #sub zero x reader #mortal kombat bi han #bi han x reader #bi han #kuai liang #kuai liang x reader

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Leggiero (Chapter Three)

aIn collaboration with @bethanysnow

Small touches, looks, and wine-soaked daydreams lead to whispered conversations on balconies' edge. Put out cigarettes in the middle of the night. Let lips touch as palms do - eventually...

Content | Fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word count | 7111

Tag list | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitermoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you@vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @dacey0eg @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @bidet-and-legolas @ginny-lily

***

The bus rumbled underneath Damiano as he turned around in his bunk, the humming of the vehicle drowning out the clatter and chatter of his bandmates in the background. His head was pounding, but less because of the little alcohol he had consumed the night before and more because of the thoughts that had kept him up all night. This morning, he had made sure to be up before Y/n would come around for her wake up call, got ready and then all but crawled into the bunk on his bus for more sleep. They would play a gig in the evening, but for now he was thankful for the 6-hour drive to Oslo with nothing to do.

He could almost feel himself drifting off, body tired out and mind exhausted, but instead all that he saw when he closed his eyes were scenes from last night.

The room was filled with laughter. Music and Vic’s singing, as Damiano let himself fall onto the bed next to Y/n. She looked gorgeous, hair down, relaxing, a champagne flute in her hand and a slight smile on her face. Even though he knew she’d be worrying about what Thomas was doing to the room and how she was going to get them out of bed the next morning. But mostly she was just gorgeous and he told her so.

His hand reached out before the contemplation of this action had been finished in his brain. The adrenaline from the first show of the tour had him flying, soaring, and there was nothing that could possibly bring him down. Her eyes showed surprise but she didn’t pull away as he put a strand of her hand behind her ear. The gesture was small but Damiano felt like he was on fire, briefly stroking the soft skin under his fingers before pulling back.

He found himself babbling about his hair, but he was much more interested in what she had to say. He wished she would talk about herself more often - so much of his personality was so out there, so much information about himself was literally out there, in magazines and interviews and photos, but she had her walls up, even when they were joking, even when she seemed to be talking freely.

“You’re getting more interesting with every second I’m around you, you know?” The words slipped out of his mouth so easily. She went over it just as easily. Did she not care? Did she not find him interesting? He had hoped for some sort of reply or reaction, but she just continued talking. Maybe she wasn’t interested in him… His brain only allowed the thought for a minute. No, he told himself, she simply was this way. Cool, calm, collected. He was sure he would be able to get her out of her shell further one of these days. He wasn’t going to stop trying.

Next thing he knew, she had thrust her phone into his hand, some picture of her from years ago. He didn’t care much about the outfit or the makeup or the questionable hair, it was her smile that drew him in. There was something carefree about it, something unabashedly confident, something she seemed to have lost since then. There was no way back for him he realised in that moment - it might as well have been this woman or no other ever again.

Next thing he knew, he was complimenting her again, calling her darling, but this time he didn’t have to wait long for a reaction. The drink that had been in her mouth just a second ago was now spluttered on her clothes and some of the bedding. He was about to ask her if she was alright, but she had jumped up from the bed, hands trying to hide her reddening face, and dashed to the bathroom.

Fuck, what happened?

“Damiano! What did you do to the poor girl!” Vic shouted in amusement from across the room. He simply waved it off. He wasn’t actually sure what he had done and it bothered him more than he would like to admit - especially in front of his bandmates. Maybe he had come on too strong, tried too hard, had made it awkward. His plan had been to pay her compliments - not scare her away with them. He would have to reconsider his course of action.

When she came back, it was only to say a quick goodnight, waving and leaving. She only spared him a brief glance, no smile or any reassurance that they were fine.

It had not stopped going through his mind. This morning, she had pretended like nothing had happened, but he knew she had been avoiding his gaze and her smiles didn’t seem quite as genuine as they did before. Damiano let out a low groan into his pillow. This was a mess and a half.

The curtain of his bunk was drawn back harshly, revealing Ethan’s face.

“Why would you scare me like that!” Damiano complained. “I could be jacking off in here!”

“Well, I want to assume you wouldn’t do that in a semi-public space such as this,” Ethan replied with contemplation on his face.

“What do you want anyway?”

“Victoria sent me and told me to tell you, I quote,” Ethan cleared his throat. “‘Stop moping, Damiano, it’s no fun'. So, there you go.”

Without another word, Ethan turned back around, leaving the curtain open, and walked back into the kitchenette of the bus. Out of the corner of his eye, Damiano could see him stealing a bit of fruit from the fruit bowl. He felt no motivation to join them.

***

“He alright?” Y/n whispered to Thomas, who was sitting close to her, guitar on his lap. He just shrugged. Ethan rejoined the group with an unreadable expression on his face, sitting down next to Victoria. Y/n shot him another concerned look, but he simply shrugged as well. She shook her head and got up from her spot, walking over to the counter to make breakfast for everyone. Getting out the waffle maker. Putting the Moka pot on the stove and filling it with water. Too early in the morning for rock and roll. In the background, she could hear the band discussing rehearsals and the show in Oslo.

As soon as the smell of food hit the three bandmates, they were all over Y/n, hovering around the little kitchenette, pushing and shoving each other to be first. Y/n looked at all of them in turn. Thomas was currently standing on the couch, raising his hand to smack an unsuspecting Vic who was looking the other way. A single raised brow from Y/n got him back down onto the ground.

“Hey! I’m older, I go first!” Victoria pushed Thomas back.

“Maybe, but it still took your mum nine months to think of a good joke,” Thomas retorted.

Ethan turned around, chuckling at his friends’ banter - but Y/n’s reaction was far more blatant. She started to laugh, a loud, almost cackle that the band had never heard before. Her smile easily reached her eyes and she gave a little applause at Thomas’ joke. “I- I;” she gasped in between laughs, “I know it’s not that funny but it just got me, sorry!” Finally managing to bite her tongue, she went back to serving breakfast.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw Damiano leaning so far out of his bunk to find out where the sounds and the laughter were coming from. The driver though couldn’t have known it was a bad moment to go over a pothole. With a loud thud, Damiano crashed out from his bunk and onto the hard floor. Chili, excited at the prospect of being able to reach him, ran over to lick his face.

“Eh! Chili, hi. Vic! Come get your dog!” He groaned, picking up the golden fluff and sending it back to her owner. She trotted away happily, over towards Victoria, who was a giggling mess after seeing her friend’s fall. He rolled his eyes at her grin.

“You gonna come join us, sleepy boy? I made coffee,” Y/n said, still trying to keep the peace between everyone. Pouring coffee into a mug, she walked over to Damiano and bent down, handing him the beverage. “I don’t really care if you want to spend the entire day on the floor, but I think your fans might tonight. So come join the party, hm?” Her voice was soft and enticing. Damiano’s eyes sparkled at her invitation. But still, his face was burning red. He sighed and nodded.

Y/n stepped back, taking the cup after he had taken a long sip, and reached her hand out to him. With a swift movement, Damiano was back up on his feet, immediately losing his balance and crashing into Y/n’s shoulder. More blushing on his part. He had not been expecting this amount of strength from her. Not caring about his little bump into her, she dusted him off, picking some fuzz out of his hair, her hand so close to his face, yet so far. She handed him the coffee once again and gave him a smile, before going back to her little corner on the bus as everyone devoured their breakfast.

Damiano watched as she tidied up after everyone had finished, constantly making sure what was effectively their home during tour would stay homely. She always looked like she belonged, and he admired her for that. After one last wipe down of the counter, she quickly addressed everyone on the bus, asking if she was needed for anything else right now, and after a round of head-shaking from everyone, she grabbed her laptop and retired to a quiet corner on the bus. It was only when she briefly looked up to find his eyes and gave a slight smile that he realised he was still watching her every move. Embarrassing, he scolded himself.

Damiano started fumbling for his bag, grabbing a notebook and a pen. He had too many thoughts running around in his head, too many images and ideas about Y/n, and he felt like the only way to get rid of them was to write. Maybe he’d even be able to make something out of it. Anything would be better than staring and dreaming about her anyway.

***

Two more hours until Oslo. With a heavy sigh, Y/n pushed the laptop away from her, neck cracking as she finally moved her bones a little. Suddenly, a pair of hands came down onto her shoulders. She only flinched for a moment before she realised it was Damiano, slowly starting to massage her tense flesh. Her head fell forward and she waved her hand to have him keep going. His fingertips digging into hours of uni work, work work, other work. Tension all living in her neck being slowly worked away by the singer.

"I'm not gonna turn down a free massage," she chuckled, feeling his talented fingers remove knot after knot. Then, suddenly, they became softer. She could hear Thomas in the background shouting something at Damiano. Taking his attention away from her, and all it left was soft fingertips on the sensitive skin on her neck. Dancing along and leaving goosebumps in their wake without him even knowing what he was doing to her. She shivered under such a light touch. A groan left her lips as she was falling deeper under his spell. At this point, she didn’t care. A very pretty man was smoothing his hands over her neck and shoulders and it was nothing short of lovely. Normally this wouldn’t be on Y/n's top list of things she would allow - but a 6-hour bus ride and sitting in one place for most of it was a killer.

I could fall asleep like this - fuck…

She was snapped back to reality when she realised that Damiano was once again staring at her screen, asking what she was working on, hands never moving from their position. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to concentrate like this.

“Oh, I’ve, um,” she awkwardly fumbled with the laptop, “I’ve been trying to memorise this sonnet. I’m doing a course on Shakespeare this semester and we’ve been told to pick our favourite by him and I think I finally decided on mine. It’s Sonnet 128 - um. One of the only sonnets to give you an actual scene in place. It’s from the perspective of this guy watching a bard and just craving to be touched, used, kissed by this person. To have the same sort of attentive mastery be directed at him instead of the player’s instrument. Describing the person listening to this bard play… Wait, would you just like me to read it to you?” Y/n looked up at Damiano. He nodded as he slid into the seat beside her. She moved the laptop so she could see its screen still and began to speak.

***

Sitting next to her wasn’t as bad as Damiano thought. After working on her neck and shoulders, her perfume had rubbed off onto his skin. Light and warm, not super floral, but he didn’t peg Y/n to be a flower kind of woman anyway. Looking at her face now, he noticed things he hadn’t seen before. Faint freckles, little lines around her eyes, the pink tint on her lips. Her hair was done up again in a bun. He could see a couple of bobby pins trying to hide in her wild hair. Then she started to recite the piece and his chest was exploding. He felt as if he was watching winter melt away and spring come.

“How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st”

Oh, what he would do to be her muse, Damiano thought. Her voice, low and soft, was like music itself to him, never mind the way her eyes lit up at the words she repeated from the screen. A little light inside of her, one he hadn’t encountered before.

“Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway’st”

Her fingers were just as sweet, his mind piped up as he tried to listen to her more closely. Some light polish on her nails that he hadn’t noticed before, but now that she was scrolling through the laptop, it was like he couldn’t keep his eyes off them. Quickly exploring images of them tangled in his hair, scratching down his back ever so slightly. Stop, he told in his own head in vain. Just stop and listen, for once. Yet the ideas of her he had hidden away kept demanding attention.

“The wiry concord that mine ear confounds,

Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap

To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,”

He tried so hard to concentrate. To listen, to take in the words she was reciting, to grasp their meaning and what they meant to her, but it was hard, getting harder. In an uncalculated move on his part, his arm swung around her shoulders, not pulling her closer, just letting her know he was there, right now, right here, with her. His hand resting on her upper arms, feeling the warmth underneath the fabric of her blouse.

“Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,

At the wood’s boldness by thee blushing stand!”

His eyes travelled up from her fingers, over her soft and curvy figure, her delicate neck, to her blushing face. She was blushing an awful lot with him and he had not yet figured out completely if this was a good sign or not. Either way, he thought she looked adorable, a natural pink on her cheeks. Slightly restless eye movements that didn’t match up to the words she was reading, a certain nervousness overtaking her. He wanted to make her blush like that for the rest of his life if he could. He silently wondered if she would blush that much if… if it was just the two of them, alone in some random hotel room, a whole world of exploration before them.

“To be so tickled, they would change their state

And situation with those dancing chips,

O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,

Making dead wood more blest than living lips.”

His eyes betrayed him, flicking down to her lips as soon as she said the word. Soft, a light tint on them, pronouncing every syllable in the most mindful way. He wondered if she would let him kiss her. What. His brain flickered between two emotions. Yes, yes, yes. He would give everything to feel her sweet mouth on his, getting her close, inhaling her scent, pouring his every thought into a kiss. No. What was he thinking? She was their assistant. Strong, gorgeous, fiercely independent, and surely not interested. Right? He couldn’t help wondering. Would she let him kiss her? Would she want him to? Had she thought about it, the way he was right now?

“Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,

Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.”

Their eyes met and Damiano hadn’t even noticed how much closer he had edged towards her. It would only take a little bit, one more breather, a tiny motion, to put his lips on her, to feel what she was feeling, and the way she looked at him had him craving, obsessing and he almost dared himself to do it, when a voice pulled him out of his thoughts, pulled him away from her.

“Y/N! I don’t understand how the waffle maker works!”

Damiano had never wanted to kill his bandmate more than at that moment. With a groan he turned around, seeing Thomas fumble with the appliances in their little kitchen area, a dumbstruck look on his face, and puppy dog eyes pleading Y/n for help. She only gave a low chuckle, before getting up and walking over to the guitarist, leaving Damiano with a head full of thoughts that all circled around her.

***

That was close, Jesus Christ! My face is so warm… how are his eyes that pretty? How have I never noticed that before? I wonder if he was thinking about the same thing as I was back there…

***

The crowd was roaring out by the main stage. Crew held their places waiting for the queue to go. The band stood off stage trying to sneak a peek at the audience. Hundreds more people than they were expecting. Y/n sat in a metal chair that was dubbed ‘her chair’ so she could watch the performance from behind the main curtain to cheer the band on without being seen. The lights in the main room were being lowered, the playlist that had been on in the background slowly being turned off, as the noise of the audience got impossibly louder. The band was getting nervous now, the good kind of nervous. Thomas jumping around to get his energy levels up before they would get the sign to get on stage. Y/n smiled at them in turn, returning a little wave Ethan was giving her. Just as they were given the go-ahead, and all of them started to jog on stage, Damiano took a little detour, sending her a smile that would set all the butterflies free in her stomach, before pressing a little kiss to her forehead. He was gone before she had a chance to react. Yet, she froze. Damiano looked back and it was the most perplexed, confused, and adorable expression he had ever seen on her.

It was an expression Damiano couldn’t get out of his head for the rest of the concert, even long after she had lost it - and he knew she had because he couldn’t keep himself from looking over at her every now and again. He was fascinated by the way she watched them.

And if she was watching? Well, then he was going to put on a show.

He pulled all the tricks he knew - well those that were fitted to the situation and venue. During one of their songs, he decided to pull his favourite one. With a low grunt, he ripped his shirt apart, throwing it across the stage, unable to wipe the smile off his face. Until he looked over to where his top had landed and his eyes fell onto Y/n, standing beside the stage, now with a performance-rich torn tank top on her face. Maybe his aim had been a little off. The look on her face as she removed the fabric made him laugh. At least she isn’t hiding now, he thought, before going back to the song.

During “You need me, I don’t need you”, one of the covers they had chosen for the night, he couldn’t fight the grin, knowing his favourite lyric of the night was coming up.

“Melody music maker, reading all the papers, they say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator.”

Where Damiano would usually take the chance to suggestively hump the mic stand and focus on the audience, this time he did it while looking straight at Y/n. Her face clouded red, eyes looking at him with a flustered glare. He simply winked at her.

Similar things kept happening throughout the night, any song to do with sex or romance, any innuendo, it was all directed at her. To him, it was all about her all the time, and he made sure to let her know.

***

After one last encore, the band left the stage, the sound of the crowd chanting their names in the background. Once backstage, they all exchanged hugs, all pumped up from the adrenaline and the successful show. A massive gift basket sat in the corner, filled with beers, chocolates, some skincare products, and flowers, along with a note from the venue welcoming them to Oslo and thanking them for playing. Vic immediately grabbed Y/n.

“When we get back to the hotel - up for a girl’s night?” Wriggling her eyebrows at the assistant, she picked out some of the products from the red tulle in the basket.

“As if I could say no to you.”

***

“Okay, what’s first, face mask or red wine?” Victoria asked, holding up both items in her hands as she followed Y/n into the hotel room, Chili yapping at both of their feet, dying to get attention from anyone.

“I will pour the wine if you open the face mask stuff,” Y/n decided, picking up Chili for some snuggles, before putting the dog down on the bed and grabbing the wine glasses. “Don’t have a girls' night often, so this is nice.”

“I keep having them with the boys but it’s not really the same,” Vic laughed. “They never want me to pluck their eyebrows or anything! Oh, and please be careful with the wine around Chili, I drenched her once and it didn’t come out of her fur for ages.”

“You - you did what now? Wait, nope, I don’t wanna know. But to be honest, I would kill to get Ethan on my lap with some tweezers in my hand. Boy, does he need it. Not by much, sweet guy. Just, uh, you know?” Within a moment or two wine was being poured and handed to the blonde. “I didn’t know how much you would want but we can always add more,” Y/n stated, hopping onto the bed next to Vic.

“Oh, very sweet guy with unpredictable hair, really!” Vic said, grabbing the glass and downing more than half of it in one go already, before sitting down next to Y/n with the little pot she had opened and a little applicator for the cream. “That’s so fancy, I usually just slap it on my face with my fingers.”

“Same! Thinking we’re posh fucks, aren’t they?” Y/n grinned, looking at the tiny skincare items, another sip of wine. Chili curled up between the two women. “You looked like you had fun at the concert.”

“It’s so good to be back on the road and I feel like we’ve really found ourselves as a band now. We’ve only played two shows but it’s already my favourite tour. I’m convinced it’s because you’re here, too, by the way, you really fit in with us,” Victoria smiled at her, sipping from the glass, then putting it away on the nightstand and motioning for Y/n to do the same. “Come here, I’m gonna do your face.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that. You guys have been absolutely killing it. You got here by your own accomplishments and will, that’s hard to do. I am far more surprised at how well I’ve been able to fit in with you all. I’m, uh, as you can see,” putting the glass away, she scooted to face Victoria, “not as… ‘rock and roll’ and I would have assumed you’d want your assistant to be. But glad I got stuck with you though.”

“Oh, shush,” Vic said, sternly, as she began applying the cream to Y/n’s face. “You fit in just fine. Firstly, I think we definitely need someone to keep us grounded a bit sometimes and secondly, I am absolutely convinced there’s a lot more rock and roll in you than you think - you just wait until you’ve been exposed to us for longer, you’ll see!”

“Well, I agree with the grounded part. You realise that today during breakfast Thomas was climbing on the sofa about to smack your head just to get further in line? That boy does not stop.” She relaxed into Vic’s touch, silently deciding that girls' nights needed to be a more regular thing. This was great. “Ethan said something similar - something about ‘head banging right along with everyone else’. You all have it out for me don’t you?!” She asked, putting on an overly dramatic, surprised look.

“No, he didn’t!” She exclaimed, astounded. “I’m gonna get him back for that tomorrow. Anyway, Ethan was right, you won’t be able to resist our bad influence forever, Y/n! So, have you been to gigs before taking this job, or is this still something new to you?”

“I have been to gigs before, but they were more music festivals, and I was never one for EDM or anything. The heat and lots of glittery, sweaty people drunk on warm beer? No, thank you. Or they would get a new assistant for a tour and the job would end. Not in a bad way, it's just how it is as an assistant. You do your job until they don’t need you anymore.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if it’s the wine or you, but I don’t think I’ve talked this much about myself really since I started this job. Not this particular job, mind you, but the whole P.A. thing.” Y/n chuckled, pulling her hair back into a tighter ponytail to keep out of the way of the fancy skincare.

“Hm, now I just keep thinking of putting glitter on you and getting you in the middle of a good punk gig one of these days,” Vic giggled as she finished up Y/n’s facemask, motioning for her to return the favour. “Let’s make the most of this wine then, I’m going to pour you another glass and you tell me a bit more about yourself.”

Grabbing the little pot of face mask, Y/n gently held Vic’s face, slowly applying the cream. “I’m going to be an alcoholic by the end of the tour, aren’t I? Um, well, I had a boyfriend, he was a prick, we broke up. My best friend lives in London in our old flat. My favourite films are old Hollywood romances. ‘Singing in the rain’, stuff like that. I dunno really. I’m just Y/n. Though I was thinking we should find a way to line Damiano’s trousers so that if they - when they rip apart, you see the lining and not the man’s underwear. Not that I think he cares, actually.” She truly was unable to turn work off completely, even on a night off.

Victoria couldn’t contain the giggle, receiving a scolding look from Y/n, who almost put the cream in her hair by mistake. “Thinking about Damiano’s underwear a lot, huh? Can’t blame you, that man is as pretty as they come. You can be happy they’ve all not gotten to the point where they just hang out on the tour bus in just their boxer shorts, but believe me, that day will come sooner or later!”

“I have not!” She insisted as her face betrayed her, telling a completely different story. “That is unprofessional and objectifying. I hope it doesn’t happen at all. You saw my face before when you all decided to ‘put on a little show’ in the dressing room.” She took the glass from Vic to take a sip. “Anyway.” She started blending out the face mask with fingers, careful not to get it into Victoria’s hair. “Would there be anything you want to know? I am never good at talking about myself.”

Chili nuzzled into Victoria’s leg, getting more needy. “I don’t want to cross any boundaries here, but honestly - why do you work so hard? I’ve only known you for like three days but you never seem to relax, you’re always either busy working for us or working on your projects and when you have a minute to breathe you end up cleaning after us or just going above and beyond taking care of us. I’m not complaining,” she held her hands up, laughing. “It’s great, but it’s a lot, huh?”

“Um… I can’t lie. Not to you or the band. Lying isn’t good for you anyway. But.. I don’t know. Lots of stuff happened before I moved to Italy. Lots of not-so-good stuff. So, I had a lot of reserved pent-up energy, still do. So I had to find ways to put it into things. Now I put it into my work because it’s my new dream. I put it into the band because I care about you. I want to see this tour do well…” Y/n stopped for a moment, caught off guard by the question, looking back and forth between Victoria and her own reflection in the wine. “I want to prove to myself that I can achieve and be successful. I am also a giant workaholic, though, like it’s bad,” she giggled, as Chili now put a paw on Vic’s thigh, demanding attention.

“Well, if you gotta do that whole workaholic thing, I’m glad you’re doing it for us,” Vic smiled, placing a soft hand on Y/n’s arm. “Just make sure to make some time to let loose every now and again. I’m sure any of us would be happy to help you with that.” She turned on her phone to check the time. “I should probably get this mask off now, give me a second,” she explained before getting up and skipping to the bathroom sink.

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Y/n said, also taking note of the time. “Doesn’t Chili need to go out now? There’s no grass on the balcony or I’d let her do her business here.” She stood up, placing the wine glasses on a little counter, trying to force the cork back into the bottle. “Thank you for tonight though, we should make it a thing.”

“Yeah, I’ll take her out for her evening walk now.” Victoria came back, hair slightly damp from where she had washed her face too hastily. “But let’s definitely do this again, next to Ethan you’re like the most calming person on this tour to hang out with.” She moved to give her a hug, only to realise Y/n still had the mask on, so instead, she opted for an awkward shoulder rub and a giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You do realise it is my job to follow you around and see you tomorrow? Like, that is what I am paid to do. But hell, I’d still do it if it wasn’t my job,” she smiled, nudging Vic’s shoulder. “Now go get Chili out and then get some sleep yeah? Important things like sleep, food, water, everything you people seem to keep forgetting about!”

“Well, that’s what we have you for now, don’t we?” Victoria laughed, picking up a whining Chili and already halfway out the door. “But you get some sleep too! No working through the night, I am ordering you to bed - as your boss!”

“Of course!” Y/n laughed, shutting the door behind the bassist. After taking off her mask, she put the rest of Vic’s leftover wine into her glass and went out onto the balcony with her laptop. Pulling out all the bobby pins and the hair tie, she ran her fingers through her hair, brushing out the knots and letting it hang loose. The light from the sunset had long been gone by the time they had gotten to the hotel. Only street lights and the blue screen were illuminating the space of the balcony. The outdoor space was large enough for a table and chairs. The street down below was faintly noisy as people and cars passed by, but not enough to disturb her peace and quiet.

***

So much for an early night, Damiano thought, staring at the screen of his phone, as Ethan slept soundly in the next bed. With a sigh, he kicked the blanket off his legs, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, and sneaking out onto the balcony without waking his bandmate. Maybe a smoke would help. His eyes drifted from the rather unspectacular view out front to where he noticed movement to his right, only to see Y/n on her own balcony, right next to his.

Y/n was relaxing in her chair, glass of wine in her hands, mouthing the words to something on the computer in front of her. Entirely focused on whatever she was working on, she didn’t notice Damiano’s door opening and closing. She took a drink of her wine, leaving a dark red stain on her lips, then stood up to face the street. Laptop on her arm and looking outward, she mumbled the words on the screen to herself. He just about managed to make out what she was saying.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with brief- Wait, no. Grief. Okay.” She cleared her throat. “Who is already sick and pale with grief. Stupid tiny font is gonna be de death of me,” she mumbled, trying to zoom into the text.

Damiano watched her, a chuckle on his lips, both amused and amazed at seeing her play out the scene on her own. With a quick flick of his lighter, he turned to his cigarette, taking a drag, wide awake. The low light of the moon was illuminating her figure and her hazy movements and for a while he allowed himself to simply be fascinated by her. By the way she moved. Performing fully committed to the open air. Then she made a particularly dramatic, sweeping gesture in her monologue and he knew he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“Hey there, Juliet.”

The surprise went through her like an electric shock, she was stumbling over nothing, almost dropping the laptop from her arms, as she turned around towards him so fast, he was sure her hair was going to give her whiplash.

“Ah fuck - Damiano?!” She gasped delicately into the night. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days!”

Hopefully, for very different reasons, he thought to himself.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly replied. “What are you doing? It’s almost 2 am.”

“You know I could very well ask you the same thing.” She looked at him accusingly. “If you didn’t have the day off tomorrow I’d be ordering you back to bed immediately.”

Damiano briefly considered a suggestive comment, but instead, let the cigarette between his lips keep him quiet. Y/n was putting her laptop away now, sinking back down into the lounge chair as he walked over to the edge of his own balcony, leaning over the railing to get a better look at her.

“You know I’ve not forgiven you for your antics at the concert tonight yet,” she suddenly stated, pulling him from his thoughts. The smirk flashed over his face naturally. He wondered if she was blushing again, but the little light the moon and her laptop screen gave off didn’t tell him anything. He was hoping she was.

“I promise I didn’t mean to hit your face with my top,” he laughed.

“But you obviously did mean everything else you did!” An accusing finger was pointed his way. “I did not appreciate that.”

For a second he flinched, wondering if he had gone too far, crossing a boundary. But then she looked back at him with a smile she was obviously trying to push away, unsuccessfully. Glass of wine in her hand, she sauntered over to him, while he put out his cigarette on the railing. She leant over her own railing, mirroring his movements. At a slow pace, like she knew he was watching, she sipped from her glass. His eyes falling to the way her neck was exposed as she threw her head back, tracing the soft skin with his glances until she set down the drink. There was a droplet of red wine on her lip and he wished their balconies were closer together, fantasising about reaching out and wiping it away, feeling just how soft she would be under his touch.

“Not that… I didn’t like it.” She paused. “Also not the first time I’ve been hit in the face with a shirt. So there’s that.” Y/n laughed.

“Now you’ve got me curious - who else would hit you with a shirt? Are you trying to tell me you’ve been to strip clubs?” Damiano laughed. Teasing her came easy to him.

“Dancers. With aim as terrible as yours, Mr. David. And I don’t know if you want the answer to the second question,” she smirked. When they were alone like this, she seemed more at ease. That, or it was the wine. He didn’t know.

“Dancers, huh? Think you could teach me a thing or two? Or, you know, were you just watching, lusting over sexy men?”

“Ah! I would do nothing of the sort. Most of the guys there weren’t into girls anyway. Wouldn’t do me much good… Damiano, I could teach a lot of things. You to dance? God help us all.” She made a dramatic cross across her body, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Now, Y/n, I’d let you teach me whatever you wanted,” he winked. “Preferably something… active, hm?” He could keep from laughing as he saw her unimpressed face, staring him down and shaking her head. He’d rile her up for the rest of his life if she gave him the chance.

“I once met this Italian guy, came to the studio. Thought he was God’s gift to dance. But you Italians all have that, bravado, confidence, whatever you wanna call it. Well, after learning the first intermediate step, he fell flat on his face and went back to beginner lessons. You gonna be like that?” Raising a brow at him, she leant further over the railing on her side.

Damiano puffed up his chest, comically, trying to make himself appear bigger in a useless attempt to impress her. “Now, you’ve obviously not met the right Italians yet, amore mio. Sounds to me like you need a real Italian to show you the way.”

Just like this morning, she burst out laughing, letting out cackles that filled the air with joy. “Sorry - not laughing at you. Just thought what you said was funny.” She looked down, and as dark as it was, he could see the same signs he had seen before. Shy expression, holding herself close to her body. The slight panic of not knowing what to say. “You’re real Italian, alright. You seem to always know what to say. Now is that an Italian thing or a Damiano thing?” She asked, sarcastically, to deflect the fact that her face was heating up.

Amore mio…that's what did it. He felt like he was unlocking a single puzzle piece at a time, slowly putting her together and making sense of her. He couldn’t wait to get the whole picture one of these days. “Maybe it’s a you thing,” he simply said. The night was making him strangely comfortable with being honest. “Maybe you just bring it out in me.”

“Eh - I’ve been told I bring out a lot of things, never a savant before.” She was still looking down, at her hands, starting to pick at her nail polish. Some little nervous tick that he hadn’t caught onto till now. “It’s late, you should go to sleep, Dami. I am sure that bed is missing its handsome owner right about now.” She started to look far away, picking up the wine glass and taking the last sip.

He had barely heard what she had said - too focused on her calling him Dami, for the very first time. It was like a little shudder running through him, knowing she was growing closer to him as the time passed. “Are you okay, though? I’m sure my bed will survive without me a little bit longer.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me, I worry enough as it is. Tomorrow is a day off, so I won’t be waking you up in the morning, bus call isn’t until later. Um, but I will be getting breakfast. Is there anything you would want?”

“As long as it involves coffee, I’m happy. I’m sure you’ll pick out the perfect thing anyway.” Damiano watched as she nodded, moving towards the balcony doors and away from him. He felt like grabbing her just to keep her there. He straightened up as well, just barely backing away from the railing. As she left he looked at the space she once occupied, feeling like he could almost make out the outline of her body where it once had been.

Amore mio...

#maneskin fiction #damiano david fiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #ethan torchio x reader #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #thomas raggi x reader #damiano david x reader #writers block #bethanysnow #quiet music

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

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