#i realise most people have drawn her with two ears so i might just say she can always split em

[purpleminte]

[Bat-ness levels at 200%, proceed with caution 🦇]

[elysiaheaven]

Words written 3328

"What did you catch her for, you idiot?!?"

"She has been with the Stellaron Hunters especially that guy named Blade." "She must be really important to him."

"We can use this woman to catch him." I heard that he has quite the bounty! It can be a gift to these people while having good money for us!"

In a haze, The voices of two men sounded in your ear.

"Your hands were tied behind your back. The thatch poked through my clothes, and the dampness made it very uncomfortable.

"If he really cared about this woman, would he really keep her with him this whole time and let everyone know that she is his weakness? If so, I wonder what other weaknesses the other hunters have."

"Well.. This woman is a decoy he randomly bought years ago to deceive losers like you and find out who's really against Elio. Your dumbass wanted to work both sides, and you betrayed them. Now look at us. "No money, no shit."

Even though you knew full well that these men were telling the truth, you were just a decoy.

Your heart still ached when you heard these words.

"What's done is done. We can't let this woman live. Thinking about it, she did ruin our lives."

"You motherfucker. Sooner or later, Blade, that bastard will know what you did. He won't be easy on us. We might as well drag her down with us."

"We've only just taken her away. Blade won't be that quick."

The sound of a knife being drawn out made you grit your teeth and shudder. But you had already cut the rope with a blade hidden in my sleeve. As the footsteps approached, you waited for the right moment.

Even with your eyes closed. You could still see that man's face and his cold eyes..

But will Blade be sad if you are gone? ..

"Ah, death is really a blessing, but not now, at least for you. Don't say you have no hopes and dreams. Hope is the most precious thing in this world."

"You want to follow a path, huh? Want to come with me?"

No, you can't die here.

You were ready with the knife you had hidden. You didn't care even if these men were going to die. You didn't care. You wanted to live.

But before you could act, someone acted first.

You heard a 'cling' like some sharp object pierced through the glass and nailed to the wood plank. The sudden, startling wail made your heart clench.

"Keep your eyes shut. Kafka will untie you."

!!!!

The cold command was followed by constant shrieks. Then there were a series of moans and the sound of bones breaking and twisting. You could hear Kafka's giggle. With your eyes closed, you curled your body into a ball, fearing it was just a dream.

"Y/n.. Calm down.. We are here, don't worry." She was going to untie you. but realised that it was cut off.

"Hm..Blade did teach you a lot."

"Are you done?"

"Back already? I wanted to crack some bones too."

"Later, I tied them up." Let's bring them to Elio."

"I can take care of that; you take care of her."

Before you spoke, you felt someone carry you in a damp and warm embrace tinged with a cold blood scent.

You opened your eyes in a daze. In this gloomy thatched hut was an eye-catching, black-haired man.

There was a hint of anger in those red eyes.

"Is this not a dream?"

"Eh? Do you often dream of me?"

You didn't say anything, and he carried you out of the room. He suddenly paused.

As you lowered your gaze to find that a man was clutching at the end of his pants.

"Please have mercy!"

He turned a deaf ear to the man's pleas and the whispers of the on lookers. With a stride of his long leg, the man fell to the ground.

Meanwhile, a group began to take these men away. Whatever happens to them, you don't care.

"Should I..?"

"Hold still.." His voice was filled with impatience. You blinked and stayed quiet.

Blade gave a slightly sarcastic smirk at the men kneeling on the floor.

"You!! I won't let you off even if I die."

"Hm. I doubt it." A little persuasion won't hurt, right, Mr. Vex?'

Kafka said she would take care of them from here on out.

.Curses reverberated behind us while the sound of a strong, steady heartbeat quietly beat away in my ears.

Blade is a bit different from the others. No one knows what he's thinking. but he is a bit friendly with Kafka and Silverwolf. Even to the fact that Kafka calls him bladie.

You did try to call him that once but once you did. You got pinned to the ground..

It's a long list of mixed relationships with him..You never knew what kind of a person he was to you..he was someone special. But what kind is it?

You told him to stop carrying you.AT first he didn't care but finally he let you stand on the ground

"Are you hurt?"

You could feel him pause for a moment before walking forward again. It was only for a split second.

"no"

"Your hand it's bleeding..."

"I will take care of this just come on now."

Well as you looked at the sky. You remembered something years ago.

You reached out your arm, trying your best to catch that flying away from you.

The man behind you tightened the collar at the the back of your neck. The only thing left in your blurred vision was the muddy photo stamped with shoe prints.

"No.....no....."You cried out. you ran towards the photo the photo is really old and the only memory you have of him.

The photo is ruined the faces your old friends expect you got erased.

Due to your curse. you forgot most of the memories you spent with your 'lover' due to your friend. Due to this you ran away from there and now you just act like a normal citizen..

but it's hard...you wanted to eat something at a shop. A man stole something and blamed it on you. the man holds the back of your shirt.

Like freedom beyond reach. You kept striving to break free while rotting away. The world was covered with a thin film. The insults and curses behind were pushed away and became cold background noises.

Suddenly, a pair of delicate leather shoes stopped next to the photo, before it was picked up.

You blinked slowly. you saw a young man with red eyes and black hair.

the young man looked about your human age. His red eyes captivated my gaze.

his eyes remind of someone you know. Someone who was close to you.

"Stop zoning out!" When you were pulled back to reality by the pain,someone else screamed.

The force that constrained you suddenly disappeared, making you fall straight to the ground. You tried your best to look up and found that the blacked haired young man had already walked over, twisting the man's wrist with one hand, turning his gaze from the photo in his hand to me.

"Do you live at the house in the east?"

You stared at him numbly and was loss for words for a second.

"Answer me."

"Yes. I stayed there for a year now."

Your answer seemed to brighten up the young man's eyes for a moment because of your answer before they became distant again.

He tossed the man to the side, lowered his gaze, and wiped the mud off the photo then he crouched down and handed it to you.

"You are a immortal being, aren't you? Anyway will only ask you once. want to come with me??"

You stared at him in shock. the roar in the world came to a halt, leaving only the young man's voice and the sound of my heartbeat.

".... Sure.."

As soon You replied you were swept up in an embrace like a shattered snowflake.

the scent of blood was all mixed together. As you dozed off, his voice sounded in your ears.

"From now on. you are mine."

"I am Blade."

"I am y/n."

"Well. What do you do?"

He smirked and told you will see.

you closed your eyes.

You opened your eyes and turned around to see Blade unconcernedly reading the newspaper on the sofa.

It was just a mermory.....

I thought he will be with the other hunters.

--------

Staring at his side, the dream you just had made you a little disoriented. You had been with him for this long already.

Back then, he brought you, healed your injuries, and taught you all sorts of things.

But more importantly, you actually have two friends, Kafka and Silver Wolf.

But Blade was the most ruthless and sharp, like a blade. You witnessed him expand from what he was to what he is now on his own in just a few years.

"I know you're awake; get up and eat."

His words interrupted your thoughts. Blade didn't look up and slowly took a sip of his tea. As soon as he frowned, you immediately got up from the bed.

Food was already laid out on the wooden table. The temperature was perfect, neither too hot nor too cold.

The person who prepared these clearly carefully calculated the timing. You surveyed the man sitting on the side from the corner of your eye. You were puzzled when you saw his teacup on the side.

"Is that Dragon Well Tea not ready yet?"

"It's poisoned. Which will ruin the taste."

You almost chocked on the spring roll in your mouth. You sighed in your heart when you looked at his calm face.

Ah, his hand...

You walked to the cabinet and took a first aid kit to bandage his wound.

"I won't die."

After hearing the expected answer, you picked up his hand and started to bandage his wound. After doing that.

You then sliced some apples to give him something to eat. He didn't care. You then held the apple close to his mouth.

He didn't open his mouth and simply glared at you.

"Don't glare at me. I'm not scared of you."

Saying this, you held the apple piece closer to his mouth. Probably your fearlessness had persuaded him, he finally opened his mouth.

You smiled gladly and turned around to continue enjoying your spring rolls when a cold hand wrapped around your waist. The incense burned quietly as a soft sigh and familiar warmth flooded towards you from behind.

"You don't blame me for using you as bait?"

He squinted, and the thin sunlight on his long eyelashes didn't seem to bother him.

"You taught me that there is no such thing as a meaningless trade. You bought me, so my life is all yours."

"How loyal."

The man behind me slowly opened his eyes, which were full of tease and scrutiny.

"Well. It's been a long time since I set foot in Xianzhou Luofu. I was going to the temple to get a peace charm, like i had done in previous years when I was young. I planned to escape myself and never thought I would give you any trouble."

He probably didn't trust anyone. But even so, you still tried to explain everything. The cold fingertip stroked through your neck and wrapped a strand of your hair around it.

"How many years have you been with me now?"

"...5 years?"

"Hm, you are right."

It began to get alarming.

"Do you want to leave?"

He suddenly laughed, with only mockery and melancholy.

"I think you will be fine by yourself."

And with that, he stood up. The sudden drop in temperature somehow made you feel cold at the height of summer.

"If you want to go. I won't stop you. Leave before next week." Blade left after saying this, leaving you in a daze by yourself.

"I just came, and he already did it."

"Kafka??"

"Yep... I did listen—sorry for earspouting—but he was acting a bit too much. " I've never seen him blaming himself so much."

"I don't know anymore. Why does he act like this?" He is the only one for whom I still don't know how I feel. With you and Silver wolf, I can call you my friends, even though this is just a business relationship."

"First of all, you aren't a business partner. You have nothing to do with us. You just stick with blade all the time. Besides, we were the ones who started to talk with you. you You're actually a good person. I like being friends with you."

"Thank you. Kafka"

"That's seemed to cheer you up. Now, time for questions."

"Wha-"

"Do you feel safe around blade?"

You were surprised by her question, but you knew the answer.

"I do feel safe around him."

"Straight answer, no bullshit. I think I already know what decision you are going to take, btw."

You didn't listen to most of what Kafka says.

You were more bothered about something else than him suddenly throwing you out.

Are you going to be trouble for him?

"You aren't a trouble to anyone." Blade can handle more than you think, but I do know what's wrong with him. I will give you a hint: I think his weakness is a bit more visible now.

"Weakness??? what? but he seems fine."

"Just a theory, honey... But still, it's up to you. In your closet, there is a bag. You can take your clothes and leave or stay with us in this hellhole. If you stay, you know what type of person he is to you."

Saying that she left...

leave?? or stay. If you leave, you can find the man you loved, but did he ever love you?

But if you stay, then you have to fall into the abyss, along with these destiny slaves. and then blade to you. He's

Deep in the night, outside the dark room, you tiptoed with your bag. Faint noises from powerful

Fists and stomps sounded from within the room.

Blade would be here alone every night and never let anyone come near. But hidden in the dark, this was a moment with Blade you could secretly enjoy.

As usual, you peeked through the window gap.

Inside the room, Blade had no shirt on. His whole body was always covered in bandages. His movements were swift, fierce, and stronger than usual, as if he were venting his emotions.

His front hair was already straddling the corners of his forehead. Sweat dripped slowly down his jaw and across his muscular, heaving chest.

He stood where light and darkness intersected, with half of his face hidden in the darkness.

Blade stood still, seeming to be waiting for something. The next second, those red eyes locked firmly on you through the window gap.

"!!!"

You quickly ducked and crouched down.

"...Come in."

"I will only say this once. If not, I will have to carry you here."

Hearing his slightly stern voice. You stood up, pushed the door open with your head down, and didn't dare to go any closer after one step in.

"You aren't normally this cowardly."

"You knew all along?!? Then how come you never told me to leave before."

"Because I didn't want to."

You jerked your head up and found him already standing in front of me. His searing body seemed to cross the few inches between you and set you on fire.

"I-I haven't come to peek today. I just."

He lowered his gaze and swept his eyes past the bag behind you. The smile that appeared on his face was tinted with mockery.

"If you're here to say goodbye, there's no..."

"I want to stay here."

You held your breath and didn't miss the fleeting surprise in his eyes.

"I have decided this myself. I want to stay here with you."

Blade looked down at you with his deep eyes. A swift breeze skimmed past your ears, and then his hand propped against the door frame behind you.

"What? Are you crazy? You almost died today because of us. and you always seemed to be on guard. and I forced you to come with me."

Facing the aggression, you tried your best to keep your head up and not avert my gaze.

"I never once thought you forced me to come with you." I always gave it a long thought, and I always wanted to stay by your side. Second, if I leave, these people might come for me again. I can't fight anyone... because...

He looked at you firmly.

"You were there always. I always felt safe around you, and because of that, I didn't worry about my life. So I...I still need you in my life."

Before you could finish your words, Blade suddenly grabbed your left wrist while extending his leg. Just as you lost your balance, his left arm instantly held your waist, while his right arm once again locked your wrist from the front.

When you came back to your senses, you found yourself being pressed against the floor. The bag was flung to the side.

"You think I'll help you? Just because you want me? What kind of relationship do we even have?"

He slightly lowered his gaze. His chest brushed against yours. You gasped softly as your whole heart was completely overwhelmed by his scent. you tried to lift your wrists and legs, but you weren't strong enough to move the man above you.

"In that bag is the money I saved for all these years." I am willing to buy your assistance for me."

"I don't want that money."

"If you take this money, I basically paid for your assistance over these years and am willing to buy some more time. I still don't know how to say if. Our relationship.. You care about me, but when I start to think we are much closer than before, you just say stuff like this."

You placed your hand on his chest. As you trembled. and the other hand caressed his hair. His body heat, which could be felt, made your fingertips burn.

The next week, he mentioned.

Was on the same date we met. You heard someone cursing him to death.

All you wanted for him was to be safe and sound.

"I think I know what your problem is."

"I don't think you know anything. and patting my head while tracing my chest, "What are you up to?"

The hot breath that blew on your face mixed with yours in the hot air.

"Whatever, continue it."

"Huh?"

"I said you can do it." I don't mind if it's you."

You blushed and continued doing it. You could clearly feel his muscles tighten under your fingertips.

"Blade."

He was just silent about it. His silence was a good sign for you to speak more.

"I think we both have to bond a bit more."

"Why is that?

"You clearly don't want the money, yet you push me away. Our relationship is just not clear to both of us. You've never seen me as a friend or anything. If you've always called me "yours," then doesn't that mean something else? You don't have to answer. I am willing to find out that answer, even if you are willing to cooperate or not."

"You seemed to like my embrace, so... we can stay a bit if you like." You smiled at him.

Seeing your smile, he snorted disdainfully, but the moonlight that sneaked as illuminated the faint smile in his eyes.

"You are right."

"Are you just going to write off my 5 years like this with that money?"

"You haven't even seen how much there is."

"I don't care."

His face came near your neck.

"Should I settle it now or later.

His whispers made you flinch a bit.

"Humans have many weakness...even if they are immortal huh?"

"Starting from eyes then their lips down to the throat and there is the heart."

His fingertips continued downward as he whispered, causing you grab his hand.

"What?? Don't hold my hand. When I am doing something"

"I gave you a chance to leave."

"But you refused."

a few minutes have passed.

"Can you wear some clothes?"

"I'll wear whatever I want."

You pushed him as you fled from the room when you saw that hint of. Something in his eyes.

"Run run where you want, I will catch you anywhere You go."

"I am just going to the restroom stop being dramatic."

no..you were going in your room to sleep alone...he needs to stop mocking you. You didn't want to admit but you too were in that mood. He ruined it.

i am writing a part 2 also stay tuned.

[idemida]

The Commander’s Darling | Chapter 6

Reposted from AO3

~ Summary:  

You are a poor young woman working in a tavern around some sketchy people and Erwin gets you out of a bad situation. He is immediately drawn to you and has to have you around, so he comes up with an excuse that he needs a secretary. Of course you say yes! After all, you need the job and shelter, and he is the only man you have felt you can trust in a long time.

You fall in love and lust for each other, but who knows who will give in first.

This is going to be more of a slow-burn, with little connection to the actual plot of the series, although it does take place in-universe. Some characters will be used for plot-points very different from the actual series.

~ Word Count: 4,300

~ Pairing: Erwin Smith x Reader 

~ Tags: slowburn; loveatfirstsight; lustatfirstsight; jealousy; pining

Erwin and you walked back into the Scouts’ headquarters through the main gate. You did not dare to address him, until he spoke to you first. Your head was reeling with the tension from the recent events. As you entered the building, away from the eyes of the people on the square you started going through your pockets to see if the officer missed the gun somehow or if you had lost it. There were no holes in your coat, at least not big enough for it to fall out and you never really took it out of the pocket, so it was impossible that it was lost somewhere in your room. You knew you will not find it there and part of you was sure you knew who had it, or rather, who had taken it. Your suspicion was that Hange had seen it and decided of her own discretion to confiscate it. If that was the case, you were done for. You were not close enough to expect her to have your back and she was audacious enough to go through your coat when you were away.

As you walked through the halls, you realised he was leading you to his office. You followed him obediently, and he changed directions without saying a word. You felt tense, but he hadn’t exactly given you reason to. When you looked at him, he looked completely neutral. As you saw the door of his office in the distance, you also saw Hange, waiting in front of it. She was about to report you to him? As you both approached her, you noticed she seemed startled by your tense appearance.

‘Erwin, can I talk to you for a moment?’ She asked, and there was such a difference between her usual giddy tone and this grave voice she was using now

‘I won’t be free for a while, Hange.’ He reached for the handle and her hand twitched as if to stop him ‘What is it?’

‘I really need to discuss something with you. Urgently.’ She insisted, her voice low, even if you were right there and able to hear her

He turned towards you. He nodded away from the door, inviting you to move away. You both took some steps away from Hange and he whispered in your ear:

‘Go to your room and search for it. I’ll come get you soon.’

The next half hour was the most anxiety-ridden time you had been through. It was far worse than being injured. At least with the injury you could find some comfort in the fact that if you were to die, it would all be over. Now, if you were caught, you might get fired, imprisoned or punished some other way. You would have no job and die on the street. You would never see Erwin again.

If Hange was in there with him now, she was probably going to give the gun to him, so there was no way for you to lie. What if he was the one who went through your things? Maybe he had a second key to your room? Maybe he knew all along? You would just have to be honest with him and beg.

The gun was nowhere to be found, as expected. You went through the pile of books to see if she had actually taken one of them as she said she would. She hadn’t. So it was her. You had only known her for two weeks, how could you be so naïve and trust her for everything so easily. You grabbed your face in fear at the consequences, still beating yourself up for not being more careful. Then, as you sat down on the bed and looked at your skirt with the shirt tucked in, you remembered it was her shirt you were wearing. You immediately started unbuttoning it and taking it off.

Then someone knocked on the door and opened it just a bit, until you shouted their way.

‘No! No! Wait.’

‘Y/n, there’s no point delaying this.’ He said through the door

‘Just wait.’ You looked around for your sweater and put it on ‘You can come in now.’

He opened the door, confused.

‘What were you doing?’ He looked you up and down until he saw the sweater

‘I had to change.’ You nodded towards the shirt you had thrown onto your bed, but he obviously did not understand why

‘Come with me to my office.’

As you walked in you realised it will be just the two of you since Hange was gone. Erwin took his seat behind the desk and you cautiously walked towards the chair opposite. There were two windows behind him, but because it was so early in the day, the light had flooded the room and you could still see him clearly.

‘Sit down.’ His voice was so serious that you complied without being able to look him in the face ‘Did you find the gun?’ He asked you

‘No.’ You looked at your lap and felt a twitch in your lips, almost a desire to smile because of how ridiculous the question was ‘I assume that youdid.’

‘Y/n, considering the circumstances, I will obviously have to interrogate you.’

You kept on looking down.

‘You’re going to have to look me in the eyes as I am asking you what I need to ask.’

Your eyes lifted towards him and he saw the tears in them, but he looked back at you neutrally.

‘Did you really steal the gun from your previous boss?’

You nodded.

‘How? You were injured.’

‘I convinced Jan to give it to me to protect myself from you guys, just in case you turned out to be bad people.’

He did not react to that, instead he looked down momentarily.

‘And why did you take it? You were afraid of us?’

You decided to omit the distrust you felt towards them at first because you did not want to offend him.

‘As soon as you offered me a free visit to your doctor, I knew I’ll use this as my opportunity to run away.’ You spoke plainly ‘I never thought you would hire me or give me shelter. I thought I’d be on the street and I thought the gun might help me defend myself if I need to.’

‘That’s a big risk to take.’

‘I could not stay there anymore.’

‘I know. That’s why I was compassionate and kept you here.’ You felt such shame in your chest as he said that ‘Some would say that my compassion would be my undoing…’ He turned to the side and took something out of a drawer from behind the desk ‘I had no idea, and this was not obvious to us at the time…’ He put a big beige envelope on the desk, with something bulging inside. You just knew the gun was in there. ‘But the guns at Jan’s place carry a mark, that can be linked to Kenny Ackermann and his squad.’ He took the gun out and pointed at some scratches on the metal that were always insignificant to you ‘Did you know this?’

You were not sure if you could reply without your voice shaking.

‘Commander Smith,’ You whispered because you did not have the confidence to speak louder ‘I had no idea.’

‘Is it possible that Jan has connections to him?’

‘Anything is possible, but I don’t, I swear.’ You clasped your hands together to soothe yourself ‘I have never heard that man mentioned at the tavern. I have never seen him. That I know of. I told you already. It’s very likely even Jan did not know about the connection between the guns and that man.’ Your desire to cry was so palpable now that it was difficult for him to look you in the eyes

He cleared his throat and got back into his professional persona.

‘Kenny Ackermann is a force that works against me and the entire Survey Corps. He has set himself a goal to kill me and Levi. It is very convenient, that a woman enters my life, carrying a gun branded with his symbol.’

Your eyes widened.

‘I did not enter your life. You invited me in.’

There was a silence that you could not interpret. He could not deny that this was no true interrogation on his part. He asked each question, fervently hoping you will give an answer that is not suspicious. The thought you might be a traitor would destroy him because he was so invested in the sweetness he projected onto you.

You were right, and it was so embarrassing. He had invited you in because he let his feelings and lust cloud his judgment. He could not entirely say he regretted it. Since you were hired you ended the monotony that invaded his life. Going for each meal was exciting, seeing your expressions at the table, then thinking about it afterwards, wondering if you would look at him and smile the next day. There was also a part of him that regretted it because dating an employee is against the rules, so he had barred himself from consummating his feelings. If he used this as an excuse to fire you, perhaps, he could date you.

‘What did Jan say to you when he gave you the gun?’

‘Keep the safety on while it’s in your pocket.’

He raised his eyebrows quickly and you realised he was holding in the urge to laugh.

‘Is it possible it was something else?’

‘Like what?’

‘Use this gun to kill Erwin Smith when he lowers his guard.’

You scoffed. This time the anger took over your anxiety and it helped you express yourself louder.

‘Why would he send jealous letters and be upset that I have replaced him with you?’

‘Because maybe he kept an eye on you and realised you decided not to go through with it.’

‘This is ridiculous.’ You shook your head ‘It’s paranoid. Did you really think of it yourself?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Did Hange put this idea in your head?’ As you saw the confusion in his face you continued ‘She is the only one who wasn’t there that night, so she doesn’t know how I feel about him. She doesn’t know the place I left or the situation. She didn’t see it with her eyes and if she did,’ The anger was turning into sadness ‘She would know I was never loyal enough to Jan to kill for him, especially the one person who was helping me in my time of need.’

He kept quiet.

‘You were there,’ You said with disdain ‘It’s a shame I have to remind you.’

Then you placed your palms flat on the desk and looked at him dead in the eyes, taking a pause as you gulped the lump in your throat. He perked up at the sudden pause because you looked so vulnerable.

‘Erwin…’ You said ‘Fire me, if you must, but don’t report me to the military police. Please. Please.’ You started crying at that point

You held your eyes with one of your hands, trying to hide your tears. As you wiped them away and looked at him again, you noticed he was looking at the hand that remained on the desk. His hand twitched as if he was about to take it, but you did not notice.

‘You know I won’t report you.’ He said and you shook your head ‘But you will not get it back.’

‘What will happen to it?’

‘That is not your concern.’ He said sternly

‘Are you going to fire me?’

‘No.’

Then there was a pause again. You gave a slight smile of recognition and nodded. You almost wanted to cry in relief, but didn’t want to embarrass yourself further.

‘Well, what did you have planned for me for the rest of the day?’

He looked down at the hand on the desk again.

‘We should go get breakfast as planned.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up

You walked through the square, making small talk once again. It seemed strange, he wasn’t saying much of substance, but his mood seemed lifted. It was different from the first time you walked in this direction that day and especially different from who he was during the interrogation. The first time was so stiff, but now he seemed to look you in the eyes freely and smile. You finally reached your destination, a place that you could almost describe as ‘quaint’. It was charming in a way a grandmother’s old house might be. You walked in and joined the short queue. There were four to five people in front of you, but there was no rush and the shopkeepers and the customers seemed unusually calm. There were quite a few empty tables both inside and outside. It seemed it was the sort of place people would go to relax rather than pick up a quick meal and go, but then again, it was way before lunchtime. Now that you started to think about it, if it was that busy in the slower hours, it must get crazy around lunch and you would have to come earlier to pick up Erwin’s lunch to avoid a bigger queue when he does ask you to come here again.

‘Usually, I like the one with the beef and rocket. This is the one I would be sending you to get if I do send you here.’ He gestured towards the sandwich display and you saw the one he meant. It looked really filling, you had to admit. The bread was seeded, the meat was layered on thick and it seemed like they had added some special type of sauce ‘The sauce is definitely the best part. I would recommend it to you.’

At that, you pursed your lips in a smile. 

‘It’s pretty much a steak in bread.’ You said ‘I don’t think I’m the type of person that would have steak for breakfast. I would definitely like to try it for lunch though.’ You looked around ‘At some point.’

He was right that they had great lunch options. There were all kinds of cheeses, leafy vegetables, different types of bread, sauces, flavoured butter, creams, you even saw smoked fish. It was so rare to eat fish where you were from. 

You made your choice and he treated you. The cashier passed you your sandwich in a paper pocket. Something you noticed was that the cashiers did not really pay him any special regard, so he either did not come often or he was not friendly enough for them to chat with him. As you moved away from the till you found a nice free table next to the window. 

‘Thank you for the lunch.’ You said ‘I’m shocked that this is happening to be honest. I thought I would be fired and well, you know…’

‘It’s alright.’ He smiled and started unfolding the sides of the paper to bite into his food

‘Are the others suspicious of me now?’

‘Who knows?’ He said ‘Why are you assuming they all know?’ 

You rolled your eyes and he laughed. The sound of his laugh shocked you. You weren’t expecting him to be so familiar with you so soon.

‘Y/n, they’re going to be fine. As you said, Hange was the only one who had not seen your situation.’ 

‘Levi already hates me.’

His eyes widened and he laughed again.

‘Levi practically loves you. If he hated you he would not even acknowledge you.’ When he saw the doubt in your face he continued ‘He is curt with everyone. Even me.’

You ate your food in silence for a while, until you noticed he was about to ask you a question. His expression seemed so grave it worried you.

‘You know, I never interviewed you for the role. Maybe I should do that now.’

‘What?’ You looked up in terror, almost choking on your bite. His lips had lifted in a slight smirk, but nothing too arrogant. Surely he was joking.

‘What do you think is outside the walls?’

Your eyes remained wide. Was this some kind of philosophical question? Or did he want an account of the little you had read in the papers and heard from gossip? The outside world was horrific, as far as you had heard. It was full of danger that an ordinary human like you could not overcome. However, you actually knew nothing about its appearance. You were not sure if it’s a wasteland or grassy, if it had trees, or if it resembled the nature within the walls at all. It was possible it looked like nothing you’ve ever seen.

‘The only thing I’m sure about is the titans.’ You tried to keep the answer safe. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself by fantasising about what it might look like. He smiled gently at your answer and then continued.

‘What else? Do you think there is nothing apart from titans?’

‘Have you found other things?’

‘You tell me what you think.’

‘I think there could be other walled humans like us that we don’t know about. Too far for you to reach them on your expeditions.’

His eyebrows twitched in surprise.

‘You think so?’

‘Maybe it’s dumb.’ You shrugged and bit into your sandwich

‘Have you ever seen a titan?’ He asked and you shook your head as you were chewing

‘They look pretty much human.’ He explained and you suddenly stopped eating ‘They’re giant men. We have never seen a female titan.’

Suddenly, your eyebrows came up so high, he became really curious about your response. You started smiling and had to hide your smile because you weren’t finished with your bite.

‘Hange is such a pervert. She told me she finds them fascinating and can spend all day thinking about them. Now I can see why.’

He began laughing. The most true, roaring laughter you had ever heard from him. Some people at the bakery actually turned around to look and there was a part of you that felt so accomplished that you had managed to get such a reaction out of him. His face flushed red from it all.

‘They don’t have human reproductive parts though. I don’t think she’s that perverted.’

‘Hange is shameless.’ You shrugged, pursing your lips. Not only in that regard, you thought. She had gone through your things, after all.

‘Y/n!’ He scolded you through the laugher that remained and you relented

‘What do you think about that? That they’re all male.’

‘Whoever made them, obviously decided they only want to make male ones.’ You continued eating

‘You think they’re made?’ 

‘I think it’s possible.’ You said ‘I mean I am just making this stuff up. Of course, you know better than me.’

‘I don’t.’ He said and you looked up at him in shock ‘The outside world is the biggest mystery for me. With all the access to information from previous commanders and my own findings, I have not gotten close to understanding it.’

Upon learning that, you didn’t want to upset him by asking him if he really thinks it’s worth it. You were on thin ice, so you decided to pause that thought for now.

‘What does the outside world look like?’ You asked

‘It has the same flora and fauna as the world within the walls. The same grass and trees. Of course, most of it is unexplored, so it’s possible we simply have not seen things that are new to us.’

‘There really is no difference?’

‘No.’

‘Have you eaten ‘outside world’ food?’

‘No.’

‘Good. Maybe it’s poisonous.’ You said and when you saw his confusion you decided to clarify ‘Maybe it’s not suitable for us.’

‘Interesting.’ 

You shrugged.

‘You could definitely work in Hange’s department for the brainstorming activities. You have the open-mindedness for it.’

Your face stiffened at that.

‘You’re just trying to push us together again.’ You said coldly ‘She was being fake to me this entire time. She wouldn’t trust me for anything.’

‘That’s not true. I’m sure you two will be friends again.’

‘We only knew each other for two weeks. We weren’t friends.’ Your irritation started bubbling up, but you had decided to stop speaking too late. You knew what you said reflected badly on you. After all, you did appear incredibly suspicious for having that gun, and it was not out of question that you could have connections to that Kenny guy since the tavern was apparently within the area he frequents.

‘Hange is a lovely person.’ Erwin said ‘I can assure you she was not being fake to you. She just had some suspicions about you because of how fast I hired you and the place you came from.’

You nodded to appease him.

‘Tell you what, are you interested in seeing the outside world?’

‘Absolutely not.’ You laughed. Just the thought caused your heart to race. 

‘Y/n, I don’t mean go out. I mean climb up on the walls.’

‘Ooh.’ A spark appeared in your eyes ‘I’ve always wanted that.’ You chuckled in slight embarrassment ‘But why are you asking about that now?’

‘Me and Hange can take you up the wall.’ He said ‘It would be a good way to get you two talking again. She will talk your ear off.’

‘If my boss thinks that’s for the best, then what can I say.’ You shrugged with a slight smirk ‘But you better not leave me alone with her.’

‘I won’t.’ He said this so firmly it made you pause. You looked up at him in momentary confusion. For a second he thought he had revealed his true intentions, which were to spend as much time outside the office with you as possible. However, when you gave him a sweet smile, he breathed a sigh of relief.

For the rest of the day you were allowed to go stay in your office, and you did not join the others for lunch or dinner. Erwin allowed you the choice and you decided you could not face the others right now. He brought you your lunch and dinner to your office. All of his kind gestures that day sparked an intense desire to prove yourself to him, so you kept on asking him for more tasks. In the end, you did more work that day than for the whole of the past two weeks. You even worked after dinner. Around nine o’clock a surprise visitor knocked on the frame of the open door of your office.

‘Y/n, can we talk?’ Hange said solemnly

‘Yes.’ 

Realistically, you had no choice but to forgive her.

‘I came here to apologise.’ 

‘For what?’

‘For suspecting you. I have spoken to the others and they told me the suspicions were ridiculous. It’s just that something did not sit right with me. I felt like I had to find out more, and when I found the gun… I freaked out.’ 

You kept quiet for a while and even looked away.

‘I forgive you.’ You said unconvincingly

The issue with Hange was not so much that she suspected you. Perhaps she was right to do so, but to go through your things, to bring you tea as a distraction… That was too much.

‘When did you find out I had the gun?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘So the tea was just a ploy to get to the gun again?’

Hange kept quiet.

‘Silly me. I thought you actually wanted to have tea with me.’ You said it so sternly you could actually see the pain in her gaze

‘I want to.’ She said ‘All of those moments of friendship we shared were true.’ She stepped closer to you and you stiffened 

Perhaps, you would just take this as a learning opportunity. Levi was right that it was too soon to give a review. Now you see the kind of person she is and you would be more cautious. There’s no need to continue some overt conflict with her and scowl.

‘Erwin vouched for this. He said I can trust that you weren’t being fake to me. I know I can trust his word.’ 

Hange looked down in shame. Then she fidgeted for a few moments and finally got the bravery to approach you and even take your hand.

‘I believe you and I will be good friends in the future.’

You nodded automatically, but you were dumbfounded at her confidence. She was about to go on an expedition in the outside world and yet she seemed certain she would come back.

‘I will leave you now. But please, join us for lunch tomorrow.’ She said and she left

You decided to go on a walk outside to clear your mind. As you reached the staircase at the edge of the male quarters, you noticed a silhouette sat at the bottom few steps. As you approached, the silhouette seemed to perk up, like it recognised you. It was a tall man, so for a moment you thought it might be Erwin, but it was unlikely the commander would be there and especially sat in this way. You soon realised it is Miche. 

‘Y/n. How are you doing?’ He smiled 

‘I’m better. Thanks.’ 

‘Yeah. Me too.’ He said and when he saw the confusion that emanated from your face he continued ‘Erwin changed the expedition route. We’re going to focus on going to familiar places and consolidate routes instead of establishing new ones.’

You weren’t entirely sure why that was better, so you simply nodded along. However, you obviously had not done enough to convince him you had understood.

‘Less chance of dying.’ He explained and it was almost as if he gave you a nod of gratitude

[hayiesli]

A story of Euro Meilyr

TW / harsh words

Jakarta, 2022

Exactly what will happen in the future is impossible to say. To a reasonable degree of accuracy, no formula exists for foreseeing the future. The uncertainty is the mysteries that separates the two groups: 1. Those who are eager to make preparations. 2. “Let God’s plan remain a secret. We will take another breath today.”

Whichever side is better or more logical, it appeared that these people were also divided, after parting from a good morning that was met with a good night—and vice versa.

“Ro, lu nggak selamanya muda. Nggak selamanya hidup dari uang orang tua lu. They’re getting old, Savannah and Brooklyn will have their own family. Lu juga, masa mau berkelana terus?”

She continued her chatter, but all she got in response was a drawn-out sigh. The one woman he could go to for refuge from his worries about turns out to be just like everyone else. Everything is subject to change over time. All living things are included, including humans. Some sort of mindset.

The noise of two three cars broke the silence. Rows of street food became a diversion for Euro as they attracted a large number of people who came to satisfy their appetites or simply waste money. Even so, his silence didn’t mean he was ignoring the woman next to him; he was just thinking about how to respond to her without making a scene.

“Denger gua nggak, sih? Capek dah.”

“I’m all ears, dearest cousin.”

“Bacot!” She slumped back into the seat and sipped the coffee she had purchased, frowning. “Gua peduliin lu, Ro. Keluarga kita yang lain juga.”

“Itu namanya ikut campur nggak, sih?”

He was about at his wit’s end with patience. He even closed his eyes for seconds to calm himself.

Tsamaine could feel emotions welling up and wafting from the vanes of his lips. But what her cousin did next might make her frown and parted her lips.

“Kalau peduli itu, gini,” Euro took a single white with three in it from Tsamaine's tiny bag. “Ekhem, ‘Peringatan! Karena merokok saya terkena kanker tenggorokan’.

Tsamaine then took possession of the pack and threw it out the car. What Tsamaine dreaded most was the moment Euro realised she was still smoking. She used to only smoke as an escape. Some might even say she was addicted. In spite of this, she’s just unable to show it openly because of social stigma: 𝘊𝘦𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘶𝘩 𝘤𝘦𝘸𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘭.

Euro sighed, wanting to express his frustration at the fact that Tsamaine was still smoking. But he was aware that the current topic was not the cigarette, but him.

“This is my life,” his voice was low, evidently still trying to calm himself down.

“I’m not Savannah or Brooklyn yang suka dunia kesehatan dan tahu mau lakuin apa di hidup mereka. I can’t design. Gua juga nggak punya bakat jualan. Gua—”

“But you do like travelling.”

“Ya.” His eyes fixed on Tsamaine’s intensely. He knew exactly where Tsamaine was going to take their conversation.

“Jangan bilang vlog atau tawaran itu, Mai. Gua nggak mau kerja. Ribet. Selama keluarga gua okay, ya it’s fine.”

As Tsamaine took a deep breath, he heard it. As clearly as he could, she was still babbling something utterly incoherent, and he sensed every word of it. A sense of surrender must inevitably erode everything, unfortunately.

“Terserah. Gua cuma ingetin.”

“Thank you, Mai.”

𝘖𝘩, 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯.

Really, it’s not like he never gives any thought to his future. He’s just hesitant about his decision. The future will play out in whichever way one decides. They will link themselves in thousands of ways. All he had to do was make a decision—and he's never ready to make a decision for something that is serious, rapidly changing, abstract, and potentially off course.

Not again.

NOT READY YET — THE END

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Desperate Measures 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: This was going to be a one shot but it kept going and going and going, so it’s gonna be split in 2.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Have a piece of American dream Open up, and swallow, on your knees And say Thank you I'd like some desperate measures, please

💌

The first picture was sent on Monday. You remembered it clearly unlike most Monday mornings. It was the same boring ritual; a coffee that had long turned cold, a pen that wouldn’t write, and a computer that ran as if on dial-up. 

The only bright side was that your small desk was near a window and you could look out onto the city streets, though they were hardly less miserable than your own existence. You were so high up the people were merely moving specks. You often found yourself distracted by the crowded traffic below.

You were drawn from such a distant reverie by the buzz of your phone. You kept it face down by your monitor. Despite the temptation, you limited yourself to succumbing only once an hour. You sat back and your chair creaked as it tilted beneath you. You checked the time in the corner of your screen and reached for your cell, the rubber case scuffed and scratched at the edges.

Notifications for the same emails that sat open in front of you and a few personal ones in the next bubble. Another for the game you played on the subway or when you were overly listless, several updates for your hoarded apps, and a single text. 

There was no number attached to the message, only the foreboding thick font that read ‘unknown number’. You chewed on your thumb as you leaned forward on your elbow and swiped your screen up and punched in your password. The screen flashed and you hit the last notification. No words, just a file. You hit download.

You blinked as it ate your data and the image of your apartment door appeared. You glanced around and laughed to yourself. You shook your head and keyed in your response; ‘very funny, Eva.’ You hit send and set your phone back down. 

Your old friend liked her jokes and you hadn’t missed her little ploy the last time she showed up at your place angry over her latest fling. You had thought she was getting a picture of the stain on the hallway carpet that looked suspiciously like blood… or feces… or a mixture of the two.

You went back to your work and switched the document you’d been picking at for most of the morning. Your job was as entertaining as watching paint dry then peel from age. When you applied for an editing position, you’d expected thrillers and melodramas. Instead, you got dry textbooks and educational guides.

You yawned and pushed through to your scheduled break. You dumped your cold coffee and headed down to the café to grab another. The coffee they kept in the office was cheap and bland. You ate your salad in the lunchroom as you watched the clock tick away. You checked your phone. No reply to that unusual text. Eva must’ve chickened out.

You scoffed and switched chats to send her usual number an ‘lol’. You tucked your phone in your pocket and punched back in before you headed back to your desk. A couple more hours and you’d be home to stew in the early week daze.

The last half of the day went quicker and your subway ride was uneventful; well, for New York. You walked home from your stop and pulled out your phone as you climbed the stairs. You slowed down and moved your feet blindly. You’d finally gotten an answer. ‘Eva?’

You opened the chat again and hit the image. It filled the screen and you squinted as you came to a stop. The stain wasn’t there. Your landlord had finally relented and had the entire hallway torn up and replaced with an even duller shade of grey. The picture had been taken since then; within the last month. The last time you’d seen Eva, you’d gone to hers.

Your chest clenched and you gulped. You hit the little icon in the corner of the conversation and hit ‘block’. You continued to your floor and neared your door. You looked down the hallway and back to your door. You tried the handle. Locked. You took a breath.

It could still be a joke. The stoner next door, Perry, had your number from when you agreed to feed his cat that one time. Maybe he was high or just trying to be funny. Still, it hadn’t come up under his name. Well, he might have changed his number since then.

You unlocked your door and scurried inside. You made sure to turn the latch and slide the chain into place. You tossed your bag beside the mat of shoes and added your flats to the pile. You dropped your phone on the coffee table and untucked your work shirt as you walked around the small living room. 

Nothing was out of place, not that you truly believed whoever it was had gotten past your door. You rubbed your forehead and went to the small kitchen that looked out into the living room. You grabbed a can of sparkling lime whatever and plopped it next to your phone.

You went to your bedroom and stripped yourself of your stiff work clothes and pulled on the night shirt crumpled atop your blanket. You looked down at the thin grey cotton and reached under to unhook your bra. You flung it in the corner knowing you’d be cursing yourself when you couldn’t find it the next morning.

You flopped onto the couch and grabbed your remote. You turned on some mindless Youtube video and opened the mobile game which had taken too much of your life from you. You connected three and four and five and somewhere in between your existentialism kicked in and had you wondering at the point of it.

You closed the app before it ate all of your battery and your phone shook in your hand. 

‘You didn’t tell me who Eva is.’ The message flashed over the top of the screen then disappeared. You pulled down the notification and hit it. You were certain you’d blocked the number. The other messages were gone though and ‘unknown number’ was still emblazoned across the top. You blocked the convo again and dimmed the screen. 

You plugged in your phone and sprawled out across the sofa. You stared at the television, a blur and a buzz to your frantic mind. 

It was dark already when you dragged yourself off the couch and heated up a microwave dinner. You ate it without tasting and your phone chimed to signal a full charge. You left it as it was on the arm of the couch and resumed your repose on the sofa. You fell asleep to the angered commentary of a gamer trying to fight a clam.

You awoke with a start. You blinked through your daze as your television showed stills of mountain and grassy fields. You sat up and grabbed your phone. You checked the time; midnight. Another message.

‘She’s the one you had coffee with last week.’ It said.

You gaped and dropped your phone. You looked around as if whoever it was would be hiding in the corner. You shook as you reached down and took the phone. You swallowed and began to type.

‘Whoever this is, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out.’

‘Funny?’ The response came quickly.

‘I mean it. Stop.’

‘Good night, sweetheart.’

You recoiled at the message and bit your lip to keep it from trembling. You checked your door again, the chain still in place, checked every inch of your apartment in your paranoia. Nothing. You let out a breath and took a blanket from your bed and huddled up on the couch. You turned on a playlist, not sure you’d be sleeping much that night.

💌

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep again but you rose before your alarm. You drank your coffee as the sky turned a duller shade of grey. You went through your usual morning dance and headed out the door with a bagel hanging from your mouth. You chowed down on your way to the subway. You felt your bag buzz as you stepped on the train.

You ignored it and clung to the bar as you counted the stops. You got off and stopped by the coffee shop. You ordered a black tea and headed down to your building. Your desk was as it was when you left it. The chair was tucked in and your mouse was hidden behind the keyboard. You sat and booted the laggy machine.

As you waited for it to start, you stirred around in your bag for your phone. You had another message. You dreaded opening it but the circle just kept spinning in the middle of the monitor. You hit the bubble and your phone unlocked.

You took a sharp breath as the image glared back at you. It was you, on the subway, that morning judging by the jacket, staring at the door as the photo was taken unknowingly. Your phone slipped from your grasp and you spun in your chair.

Everything was as it should be. Your co-workers looked just as dead inside as you. Your boss was boxed up in his office on a ‘conference call’. You shuddered and turned back to your desk. You burned your tongue on your tea and signed into your computer. Your phone vibrated beside your shoe and you bent to retrieve it.

‘You looked tired this morning’. The next message blipped on the screen.

You were quick to sweep the clock upward and type. ‘Who the fuck is this?’

‘Sweetheart. I don’t like that kind of language.’ The response was quick and sharp, even in text.

‘Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this?’

‘One thing at a time.’ The letters burned into your vision.

‘Who are you?’ You keyed in again. No answer. 

You set the phone down and watched it. Five minutes, no buzz. You hovered your hand over your mouse and tried to focus on your monitor. Your heart was so loud in your ears, your head began to pound.

💌

When you got on the subway at the end of the day, you looked around frantically as you settled into a seat, your bag hugged to your chest. You glanced up and down the car a dozen times over as you awaited your cue. Your toe tapped anxiously and you stood so fast you were dizzy when your stop came up.

You rushed down the sidewalk, peeking over your shoulder every other step. You didn’t say anything unusual; no one following you, no one watching. You ran up to your building and unlocked the door clumsily. 

You hurried up the stairs and down the hall to your apartment. The key slid in roughly and you turned it so quick, you were certain it would bend. You skirted inside and put the chain in place.

You looked down as your thin-soled boot brushed over something. A pile of flyers slipped through the slot in your absence. You picked them up and sorted through them, an envelope amidst the mess. On its face, it read ‘for my sweetheart’.

You hovered by the door, staring at the envelope. After a moment, you slung your bag down on the floor and placed the flyers on the end table by the lamp. You clicked on the light and ran your thumb along the lip. You carefully opened it and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it and your breath caught in your chest.

It was a sketch, quite well done, of you. You’d worn that sweater last week. You went to the park and walked around, sat by the fountain, tossed rocks into the babbling basin. They had been there, whoever it was. How long had they been watching?

And they had been at your door, close enough to slip this through the slot. You folded the drawing and shoved it back in the envelope. You stomped into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin beneath the counter. You backed up and gripped the other counter behind you. You felt a lump in your throat. 

What the fuck was going on?

💌

You started going in early to work; catching the train half an hour before your usual one. You left late and changed your route between the station and your building. You entered through the back, hopping the low concrete barrier between the apartments and the backlot.

Still, it only gave you a single day of peace. No messages, no pictures; and you thought the game was over. You hoped it was. That it was just a sick joke that had finally grown tiring. 

But Thursday saw another image of you just outside your work building. Friday, another of you on the subway.

The weekend was listless. You did your shopping quickly and on Sunday, you wore a loose hoodie to the laundromat. You could find nothing peculiar around you. The city was full of sketchy people but none seemed to be watching you. The hordes were still about their own lives; ignorant of those around them. You felt entirely alone, as if you were being hunted.

Monday was much the same as the last but how could it ever be dull again. You shut your phone off so you could focus on your work. When you were finally done, you dialed the toll-free number for your provider. You took a taxi home and spent two hours on the line but you got your new number and a sense of relief.

You kept your phone on, ringer on max, and nothing. You watched the screen rather than the television but it only lit up with emails and a random text from your mother. You slept in your bed that night,almost soundly.

You still kept your eye over your shoulder. Still searched out any sign of unusual interest. Perhaps you were clueless or maybe your lack of response had finally gotten through to them. Once their messages bounced back as out of service, they might have given up. They got their laughs, now you wanted peace.

It lasted until Friday. 

A full week and you were certain it was over. You finished work and stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of wine on your way home. You could finally let loose. Life had gone back to its usual tedium. You browsed the reds lazily but pondered a pack of coolers instead. Your phone buzzed. You slid it from your pocket out of habit.

‘That cabernet on the top shelf is on sale. Just to your left.’ You stared at the message and backed away from the shelf. You looked around but all the other customers seemed intent on their own purchases. You gulped and blocked the unknown sender.

You left emptied-handed and ran for the train. You got home an hour later than usual. You raced up the stairs and stopped dead in front of your door. The tall gift bag looked familiar; it had been hanging in the store by the till. You neared and peered inside. The golden cap of the wine that had stood in front of you; top shelf.

You bent and flipped the little card attached to the string.

‘For you, sweetheart. Enjoy your weekend.’

You stood and grabbed the bag. You glanced up and down the halls and stormed back down the grey carpet. Your feet hammered down the stairs and you burst through the back doors. You threw the bag into the dumpster and heard the shatter. Your lip trembled as you spun and sprinted back inside.

When you reached your apartment, you called Eva. You struggled to open your dresser with one hand and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them into your neon duffle. She finally picked up.

“E-eva,” you stuttered, “can I-- Can I stay with you, please? J-just a night or two--”

“Wohoa, whoa, slow down,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you now. I’m just-- I’m freaking out and I can’t stay here.” Your voice cracked and you sniffed back tears, “I-- Please. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… I have plans but I can cancel,” she offered.

“No, no, I… don’t--”

“You’ll have the apartment to yourself,” she said, “I’ll just let Ray know I’ll be late.”

“What time are you supposed to--”

“Seven but it’s fine,” she assured you. “You okay?”

“I… Wait, you’re fucking around with Ray again?”

“Do you want the couch or not?” She half-kidded, “you want me to meet you there or--”

“No, no,” you whisked into your washroom and grabbed your toothbrush, “I’m coming right now.” You returned to the bedroom and shoved an armful in the bag. “Eva… thank you.”

“Stay on the phone,” she said softly. “Please… you’re scaring me.”

“Okay,” you zipped up the duffle, “yeah, I’ll stay on.”

💌

You hung up as you came up to Eva’s building. She met you at the door, a thick silence between you as you sensed what she wanted to ask you. You weren’t sure how to tell you. You weren’t sure if you could.

You pushed the door closed behind you as you entered her apartment. It was cuter than yours, a spiral staircase led to a loft above and the curtains were lace and matched the dainty pillows on the couch. You placed your bag on the floor and she turned to you.

“Just give me a moment,” you said. She didn’t need to ask.

She went to the desk in the corner of the spacious room and turned on the ring light of the round mirror. She fished through her make-up box and pulled out her eyeliner. She was already done her base and highlight. You neared and hovered just beside her desk.

“I don’t even know…” you stopped yourself and went to your bag. You pulled out the paper you’d shoved in the side pocket on your way out. “Look.”

You crossed to her again and unfolded the sketch on her desk. She glanced down from drawing a wing along her eye and lowered the pencil. She blinked and shrugged.

“Look, someone dropped this through my mail slot. No address on the envelope, just this.” You felt crazy. “And I thought it was all some joke. They were sending me pictures, of me, of my building… I blocked them but they just kept on. I even changed my number.”

She scrunched her lips and looked back to her mirror. She finished her other eye and set the pencil down.

“You call the police?” She asked calmly.

“I… the drawing is all I have. I just deleted the messages when they came because… well, I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until… There was a bottle of wine waiting for me when I came home. The very same I was looking at right before I booked it for my train,” you rubbed your cheek, “Eva, I’m not crazy. I swear.”

“I believe you,” she said, “why wouldn’t I but… there’s nothing you can do but keep a log of what happens from here on out. Screencap everything.”

“You think… you think the police would help if I did?” You asked.

“Not much. Stalking isn’t really something they take seriously. I knew this girl in college-- Well, the evidence can at least get you a restraining order… if you ever figure out who’s sending you all this,” she paused and glanced down at the drawing. “Whoever it is, they got talent.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to hear that,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”

You pondered her offer but shook your head.

“As much as I think you should send Ray along, no. I can’t ask any more of you.” You sighed and grabbed the sketch. You dragged your feet to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, “I really do appreciate it.”

“I always told you to get out of that neighbourhood,” she said as she searched her assortment of make-up, “but you know I never mind you hanging out.”

💌

You spent the night on Eva’s couch, alone. She didn’t get home until three in the morning and you waited until noon for her to wake up. When she did, her face was smeared with eyeliner and her hair a mess. 

You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before. You chewed your thumb as you waited for her to emerge from the shower, restless and unsure what to do with yourself. She slammed the lid down on her coffee machine and growled as she turned and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stopped pacing. You barely remembered getting up to walk circles around the coffee table, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, how about a latte?” she yawned behind her hand, “my coffee machine is fucked… again.”

“Um, maybe that’s best, get out and… distract myself,” you twiddled your fingers as your stomach ached. You hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that was just after noon.

“We’ll get lunch,” she rubbed her forehead, “soak up the wine.”

You shook your head and said nothing. She always drank too much around Ray but you didn’t have the energy for that argument again. So you stayed quiet and watched her disappear into her bedroom.

She emerged as you zipped up your purse. You didn’t bother with your phone as you waited by the door but felt listless without the device. It was like a shield you used when you went out in the world. It kept you from eye contact or awkward conversation.

You set off and headed down the street to the pub that seamlessly shifted from brunch to ladies’ night every Saturday. You ordered breakfast tacos as you sat just inside the large floor length windows that looked out onto the shady patio. The other guest lent a sense of normalcy as they carried on their own conversations and reminded you that you were just another ant on the hill.

As you got your latte in the stemmed glass, Eva pulled out her phone and scowled at the shaking. She was so wrapped up in her texts with Ray she hadn’t even mentioned the reason for your overnighter. You were happy for it and yet, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Jesus, I told him we were having breakfast and he’s blowing up my phone,” she huffed, “just a second.”

“Eve,” you said as she stood and slid her thumb across the screen, “our foods gonna be here--”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and lifted the speaker to her ear and turned away, “Ray, I’ll be over later, promise. I barely slept--”

Her voice trailed away as she wove between tables and pushed out onto the patio and went to the short fence to chat beyond the ears of diners. You sipped from your drink and stared down at the splintered curve of the table. You couldn’t stay with Eva forever and she was hardly any comfort in her distraction with her on-again, off-again dirt bag. Maybe, if you moved--

“There you are, sweetheart,” the low voice startled you and you sat stalk straight as a figure smoothly slid into Eva’s empty chair, “you gave me quite a scare, up and leaving without a word…”

You stared wide-eyed at the stranger across from you. Well, you knew who he was. Everyone in the city, in the country, even the world, knew Steve Rogers. He smiled at you as his blue eyes glimmered. His posture was cool and confident and it was you who felt out of place.

And you knew, it was him. The shock was not enough to fuel your denial as that feeling deep down assured you of it. That little voice that told you this was your tormentor and that you were fucked.

“I…” you breathed and blinked. You couldn’t find the words, you hardly understood the storm of emotions flowing through you. You glanced through the window as Eva threw her hand up and continued berating her phone, “it’s you?”

“I hate that it has to be this way,” he said, “you know, my work keeps me out of town so much and I just wish we had more time.”

“Wha…” you gulped and gripped the edge of the table, “why--?”

“You haven’t been answering me,” his smile fell, “I don’t like being ignored.”

Your hand shook and you kept it in your lap to hide the rising terror along your spine. You sat paralysed as he sighed and glanced around the restaurant. He tilted his head and pushed his shoulders back.

“You threw out my gift,” he said evenly, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“Go…” you uttered, “go, please--”

“Sweetheart, we’re just talking,” he took a gulp of Eva’s Americano casually, “I missed you… I miss you every day and it hurts that we have to be apart.”

Your shoulders slumped and you clutched your hands in fists on your lap. You could scream but what good would that do. He was Captain America, the first avenger, a hero. 

As if your thoughts sent a banner waving, a young kid approached the table and smiled nervously as he held one of the colouring pages supplied by the restaurant in his hands.

“Um, Captain, uh, America,” the kid stuttered, “will you sign-- Will you sign my--?”

The kid smiled through tight lips and held up the colouring page. Instead, Steve chuckled and took his cap from his head and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a sharpie and signed the brim and placed it back on the kid’s head.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Cap!” the kid almost squealed, “oh my gosh!”

“No problem,” Steve laughed and watched the kid run back to the table where his mother sat, she waved at the man across from you and mouthed a thanks. He cleared his throat and stood as he tucked away the marker, “sorry, this is why I didn’t wanna do this in public,” he gripped his hip with one hand, “but… we’ll have our time.” He slowly backed away, “I’ll text you. You’ll answer.”

He grinned one last time and strode away. He stopped before the door as he held it open for Eva and she batted her lashes at him as she gushed. You could guess at her star struck words but couldn’t make them out. He left as she finally stopped her babbling and she almost skipped over to you.

“Oh my god, did you see him?” she trilled, “I didn’t think he’d be even better looking in-person.”

“See who?” you asked dumbly as you tried to disguise your discomfort in your latte.

“Steve Rogers,” she announced, “ugh, even without your phone, you got your head in the ground.”

[kim-monsterlings]

Eladan - M Orc x GN Human (Reader) // SFW

The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.

Content: SFW/Orange; surrounding a mute from birth reader and some mild self-depreciating thoughts of this, mild swearing, minor heartbreak, insecurities, drinking alcohol, light touching (hugging, stroking arms, tusks nuzzled to reader’s cheeks), very fluffy ending to make up for the heartache

Wordcount: 3067

Notes: Eladan was one of the first stories I wrote, but until “tropemas” I never finished him. There is a small follow up planned for Quinn the changeling, with info here, and a maybe NSFW for each Eladan and Vaia the cute minotaur. I hope you love them <3

“Tropemas” Summary: soulmate AU - the first words overheard by your soulmate are marked on your forearm, but they aren’t so nice

Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist

Of all places, the words intended to shatter your heart came while you were working. The words so many others clutched tight and waited for, desperate to find their soulmates, left you wanting nothing more than to avoid them. Suffering with the harsh words marked into your forearm since you were young enough to remember had left you broken-hearted before the offence, and weak-kneed when it finally came.

Working in the tavern, no less. If only you could blame it on the alcohol, but the offending orc had only just begun to drink. Sat in a large booth beside a minotaur - neither of whom you'd ever seen before, but beside Quinn, an old fae friend of yours, a changeling. They'd yet to see you, and after freezing behind the bar, you weren't sure if you had the strength to near them.

The orc's pint had clattered against pierced tusks, the froth bubbling up to a thick, braided beard, before he scowled, almost shouting, "why should I waste my life on some soulmate?" The pint slammed back onto the table once more, emptied. "Fuck fate."

Fuck fate.

It hurt more then. The first sentence you were too familiar with - after years spent scrubbing at the words, hoping one day they would wash away like ink - but the following sentiment twisted your stomach into nausea. The tavern busied in your lapse, patrons flooding in with no concern to your pained smile as you served them.

Fuck fate.

Waste my life.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair for Quinn's soulmate brand to have delicate cursive, to almost whisper "take me", yet yours was harsh and unfeeling. So many times, you had considered marking it over, though artists refused. Altering a soulmate mark was immoral, no matter the price or bargain.

The orc quieted following his outburst. You wouldn't have been drawn closer if not for a call of your name - nickname, at least, with Quinn above all respecting the importance of names - and you were helpless to wandering closer.

Though this was the first night you had ever neared Quinn when out with strangers, the fae only leaned back and softened their dangerous, charming smile. Pierced and pointed tips of their ears appeared through plaited midnight hair as they turned closer. In the presence of strangers, too, they began signing in common, for which you were more than grateful for as the orc's attention swung to you.

"I wanted to say hi. Busy night?" From that, Quinn frowned. "You look tired."

"Tired," you repeated, and shrugged a little, Quinn mirroring with a small sigh. They were busy too, and you had to wonder why of all company, they chose to spend their night with an orc so horribly rude. Of course, you wouldn't outrightly say such a thing - yet. "New friends?"

"Old," they signed, before spelling, "Vaia." They tipped their chin to the almost honey coloured minotaur, and she smiled, her nose ring shifting, which left the orc to be, "Eladan. Only visiting. When do you finish?”

That cracked your mask a little. Quinn would often wait for you, to share a drink in the early morning before walking you home. Tonight, nothing sickened you more than the thought of time wasted in Eladan's company.

So, with your smile weakened, you returned, "tired." Quinn's bright eyes rolled. The excuse was well overused, but they didn't persist. "Have a drink on me."

Their touch brushed to your palm. Quinn kissed your knuckles and bid you goodnight, but only in turning did the angle of Eladan's stare strike you. He hardly feigned looking away from the loose sleeve at your wrist, and had it been any looser, the dark cruelty forever scarring you would have been legible.

The table waited hardly a minute after you left before whispering of you, but to your surprise the mumbled whisper of, "cannot speak," came from the minotaur, not orc. A weight of stares fell upon you where you stood, pretending to wipe down the bar. Vaia's deep voice carried, and though the question came as no surprise, the curiosity only served to benefit your soulmate. "How?"

"Born mute," Quinn said, and that was all.

When you looked back before passing into the kitchen, the orc had gripped his wrist tight.

Another server tended to their booth under your pleading. Most who worked in the tavern, and several customers, had been kind enough to learn some sign, or carry paper for you when needed. The night passed well, without any further heartbreaks, until Quinn's wave caught your eye.

They would be back late in the night for you so you only smiled back, smiling even to Vaia, and paid no mind to the orc yet to leave. But hidden only behind your hair now, his passing scrutiny struck harder. Was it now your shying away that earned a frown, his tusks twisted at his lips, or the refusal to turn away when he came to the bar, leaning on his forearms, that had his head tilting?

Suddenly, the colour of your outfit struck you. Something as simple as that burned in your chest and forced you to lift your head from your chest. The soft green of it matched the orc's mottled shadings near perfectly, and the irony twisted deep in your stomach.

"Pardon me," he said, in a voice so soft you almost forgot the words scarred onto you. "May I ask if your heart is spoken for?"

Why couldn't those be the words of love and affection so many had on their bodies? The pain from his attempt now to - what was he attempting? To seduce you or use you for his visit - bittered what little was left of your good mood. You left Eladan watching as you turned and walked away.

The close friendship you cherished with Quinn became your undoing. Where they went, two shadows trailed, and usually into the tavern. They hadn't specified how long the visit was, nor its purpose, and you couldn't help feeling rude asking after immediately being introduced.

Though you ought to have because Quinn thought it would be fun to introduce you all. Your refusals were ignored after desperately trying to think of an excuse, but your only excuse was work, and they could wait for you to finish. Quinn invited Vaia and Eladan to the markets, a day out usually reserved for only the two of you, and not a heart-breaking orc.

Vaia was quiet, but that was no different to how many were around you. Often afraid to speak for you couldn't, unable to really communicate but with a strained smile and nod, but the company was nice, at least, and when she began talking, drawing you to stalls when a soft fabric caught her eye, you found you didn't mind staying by her side and helping wrap the small scarf carefully by her horns, for more reason than company.

The orc never strayed far. More than often, he stood with Quinn, but his eyes flitted back to you. Vaia moved to catch up with Quinn and left you to yourself before you'd realised, and a quiet rumble of your name left you frozen in shock. He offered a small flower, dark petals and tiny in his hand, though somehow dwarfing yours. Eladan's lips rose as he stepped closer.

"Walk with me?"

Fuck fate, he had cursed, and you wanted to throw the flower, but he ducked his head and left you with an aching heart, as if already resigned to your refusal. The orc looked shrunken; shoulders fallen low as he looked back to where your friends had gone ahead without you.

"They mentioned lunch," he said then, eyes firmly on the flower twirling in your hand. "If you're hungry? Not at the tavern, that would be cruel to take you back when you are not working. Somewhere with warm food."

Cruel, and the word twisted your stomach. In an effort just to make him stop, you nodded, and Eladan's chest deflated on a rush of breath.

"We hunt when we travel. Vaia and I," he said quietly, after stealing looks in what you had hoped to be a companionable silence, walking close enough his arm brushed to yours; the arm marked by his words. "I miss proper meals. Isn't it hard working around warm food all the time? No, I… I suppose not," he mumbled when you only frowned, and his head lifted when, like a blessing, Quinn called out to you.

Eladan offered to order for you. The offer itself tightened your chest in a way you tried to fight off, immediately signing to Quinn and waiting far from the pair and by Vaia. With a nod to the jewellery now changed in her nose, she grinned and thanked you for the implied compliment. Standing beside her now had been easier before, when you didn't see the small frown on the orc's lips after you left him.

The other small tavern in your village was adjoined to an inn, less crowded and more welcoming to friends than a bar would be on a late evening. Eladan squeezed beside you in the booth not intended for so many, and Quinn sat opposite you, leaning into Vaia as you waited for drinks.

With all your heart, you tried to hate the evening. Forced close to your intended soulmate, his muscles thick and tense, it was impossible not to wonder at what could have been - what still might be, if you moved beyond the harsh words you'd grown up with.

He was travelling with Vaia looking for work. They helped people in need of protection as unofficial bodyguards. You believed that wholeheartedly, and even grinned when Vaia told a story of how she'd been the first of their company to beat Eladan in a fight, and the first to bruise his ego. If he'd caught his breath when you'd laughed, you smothered that to the back of your mind.

"If you ever want to travel," he murmured, lifting his pint up and glancing down, a small smile crinkling his eyes. "I'd love to take you. Have you travelled?"

You shook your head and sipped at your drink, which was a dangerous thing to do, now his rumbling voice had begun to sound pleasant, and the press of his thigh to yours was warm and welcomed. You couldn't pinpoint when you had stopped leaning away from him, either, his arm resting on the back of the booth behind you.

"Not many know sign. In the cities, it's... it's different, but the woods and the sea - I think you'd love it."

It wasn't the promise of the sights that made you soften and nod, but the promise of being near him, and you stiffened. By then, Vaia was already nearing the stairs up to the inn, and Eladan brushed his hand to yours in a way of goodnight before retiring, too.

That left you with a changeling who saw too much, who rose from the booth and offered an arm to hold you close. The night carried you both onward in a peaceful silence, until your home began to near. They stroked down your arms only to soften at your wrists, a flash of gold in their eyes disarming you.

"You have always been so vigilant in hiding it. The words," they whispered. "They are not kind, are they? They're… they're what he said. You overhead?"

Unable to sign with Quinn still holding you, only a sniff broke the silence. They waited for you to nod before brushing up your sleeve. Knowing the words did little to prepare for seeing them, for finding them thick and unwavering.

After an evening so pleasant by his side, they slammed a weight into you, knocking a pain which had fallen away over the course of the night, back to its place in your chest.

Why should I waste my life on some soulmate

"His arm is blank. I do not wish to overstep-" you couldn't help frowning, and Quinn laughed with you. "More so than already, but, look," they sighed. Hands gentle on yours, Quinn squeezed. "He thought there wasn't a soul out there for him. Eladan wants you."

You twisted free then, staggering back a step. "He may want a soulmate but he does not want me. He does not want some-" your fingers twisted and Quinn reached, whispering your name as you struggled to focus and sign through the rush of pain. "Some mute. He wants a soulmate, not me. Goodnight."

Quinn ducked their head and returned the sentiment, waiting until you were indoors before leaving. They didn't see you collapsed to your knees and tracing the words by heart, wishing as you had so many times before that things were different.

True to their word and for that you were beyond grateful, Quinn didn't overstep. No more outings as a group were encouraged and you threw yourself into work, spending the nights walking home and chatting with your friend, and only them, waiting until the two guests would finally pass on.

Maybe it was wrong to think so, but you didn't want him. Eladan wanted a soulmate too late. The words were always and would be scarred, stinging, a reminder of how for years you had anticipated it being in disgust at finding you mute. Whether that was so or not, whether it was a mistake, your heart had been burdened for a time long before he had tucked a flower to your ear and teased smiles to your lips, and he would be leaving soon.

Soon, but without any timeframe. It was below you to outrightly ignore him, even on the night he came into the tavern alone. Eladan's warm smile didn't meet his eyes when you left him nursing an almost untouched pint, and for once it was you looking over your shoulder to the lonely orc.

For a breath too long, your stare lingered, entranced by the muscles flexing as he shucked off a jacket, small beads in his beard clinking. The move was one so insignificant - simply removing his leathers, as many would - but he bared his wrists, his plain, empty wrists, like he wanted you to see.

Eladan's shadowed eyes fell from you to his wrist when you were drawn helplessly to the booth. "What I'm thinking," he began quietly, with his thumb rubbing in circles you had drawn time and time before, but where yours were an effort to scrub away words, his were to summon. "I think you already know, don't you?"

Unable to deny it, you did nothing but turn.

Tonight, Quinn wouldn't be there to accompany you home. Maybe it had been a set up - an overstep you doubted, but it didn't surprise you to find an orc the last patron left in the early hours of the closing tavern. Eladan left with his jacket over his shoulder and reached out to brush your hands together before leaving.

You couldn't find the strength to stay standing any longer. The churning in your stomach forced you out for fresh air, collapsing back into the wall for support when the first, long-suppressed sob tore from you.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't fair to be so heartbroken before ever learning who your soulmate was, and to now want to be with them, to learn them, yet feel the pain of their imprint lingering behind any soft smile or effort in carrying a conversation.

Nor was it fair to be completely unsurprised by the tentative call of your name from your soulmate, the very same who had waited for you, stumbling across you pressing a hand over your mouth and choking back cries.

Eladan's knuckles first brushed from your damp cheeks to skim along your throat. Gentle enough was his hold that you could lean into him and he trembled at the closer embrace, shifting to tuck you against his chest when a shudder wracked you.

"The first words you heard me say," he murmured. "Of all the things that night for you to hear, I think you heard the worst."

The tiny, indistinguishable hum that came from your throat earned a weak smile. Eladan nodded more to himself as he tucked his fingertips beneath your coat and bared your wrist, the words as dark and legible as always.

Why should I waste my life on some soulmate

"Fuck fate," he whispered then, the following words that had served only to worsen the wound. Eladan curled himself closer and nudged his tusks to your cheeks in a move as tender and intimate as you would allow.

For him to twist free from you and turn his head down came with a strike of shame. Had you so easily fooled yourself? To think that this warrior orc, one who spat harsh words and was only passing through, would want you of all people made you weaken and sniff, trying to lean away.

Eladan frowned, braids flicking beyond his shoulder. His fingertips pressed against your cheek to return your unfocused eyes to him, before his hand curled into a fist, arm folded across his chest, and he moved his fist in a slow circle.

"I'm sorry," he signed. The next attempt became so jittery, his movements rigid and nervous all at once, that you reached for his large hands and squeezed. He weakened again and brought your touch to brush against his tusks as he spoke aloud. "Those words were from anger. I thought I was the only soul not to have a match out there. I never thought… you," he breathed, and closed his eyes. Just this once, you told yourself, you would let him lean into you; you ignored that it had happened before, that you'd let him come close already. "I want you. I want to want you for you, for more than fate's hand, and if you would give me the chance - please, I," he caught himself then, his voice cracking. "Quinn is teaching me, um- I-" You couldn't help your smile when Eladan wriggled his fingers free to sign, "please. One chance."

"One," you returned, but it was enough for him to shudder and clutch you tight.

He fumbled behind your back enough for you to recognise hand movements, before he grunted, "thank you."

[chuckbass-love]

56 and 100 with andy or steve plss

Hellooo lovely. First of all thank you for the request and i’m sorry for the long wait. I was taking a break from requests to work on the multiple series that i’ve got going on but i’m back now and i hope this is worth the wait. Secondly, i chose Andy for this and i really hope you love it.

Prompt #100: “Call me selfish, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you”

Prompt #56: “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much i missed you”

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, fluff, smut, oral sex ( f receiving), language and ass grabbing. 18+ guys

Word Count: 2,861

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @lovingpostit go check them out💜

I’ll Show You

It’s been one hell of a day at work today and all you want now is just to cuddle up on the couch next to Andy, a glass of wine in hand and some random movie that he’s been dying to watch all week on the TV. To tell the truth you don’t even care what movie it is, all that matters is that he’s next to you, holding your body close to his with his cologne filling up your senses and intoxicating you. Oh and lots of kisses are also a must.

You could honestly spend forever in his company and it’s been that way since you first met, you’ve always been drawn to each other like magnets, to put it in the most cliche way possible. But it suits the two of you because you’re both introverted and home bodies. So any time you get where you can just sit together and enjoy each others company, you take it no questions asked.

This week has surprisingly dragged, probably due to all of the clients you’ve had. Your calendar has quite literally been chock a block full not to mention the severity of the things your clients unload onto you. It’s been tough. But you got into this business because you can’t help but help people and you knew the second you started on your journey to becoming a therapist that it was never going to be easy. Nothing good ever comes easy. But you don’t mind that, you’ve never shied away from a challenge before and your brains are just another thing added onto a long list that Andy keeps of why he fell in love with you.

That along with your heart of gold.

On the drive home you decide to turn the radio volume up a little more than usual, you need something to keep you going until you can run into the arms of your love and as Led Zeppelin comes onto the radio, you know you picked the right day to crank the volume up. What a band.

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

Andy is just making his way out of his own office and down to the parking lot to drive home himself. He’s usually home before you but tonight he had to clear up a couple things before he got to leave and much like your career, his is also never stress free, but he loves it too much to give it up.

As you park your car you notice Andy’s isn’t here yet which isn’t unusual, you know he’s most likely had to stay behind a little later so you decide that you’ll be the one to start cooking dinner ready for when he arrives. You step out of your car and head to the back seat to retrieve your bag along with your jacket from this morning before strutting up to your front door. But before you can even put the key in the lock, your neighbour Ian jogs over, calling your name to catch your attention.

“Ian, hi” you beam, greeting him with a friendly smile, one which he returns gladly.

“Y/N, me and Julie were just talking and since i’m taking the boys out golfing tomorrow, she’ll have a spare coupon for the spa, if you’re interested in joining her”

You have been rather tense lately and since it’s Saturday tomorrow, you’re not gonna pass up such a wonderful opportunity to relieve the tension building and the knots forming all over your back.

“Sure, that would be great. What time?”

“11” he responds simply and you nod your head rather enthusiastically.

He places his hand on yours as he smiles from ear to ear “brilliant, she’ll be over at half ten then just to be safe. Have a nice evening” and with that he walks away just as Andy is walking towards you with a not so cheery look on his face. Must have been a tough day at work for him too.

“Hi handsome, what’s with the pouty face?” you tease as you let the two of you into your shared house but he doesn’t seem to be laughing at your not so funny joke.

“Andy?” you press him for some kind of response even if it’s a nod or mumbling, you’d rather something than to be blanked by him but to no avail.

He just shrugs his coat off, hooking it onto the coat rack before slipping his shoes off and placing them in the shoe holder. And since he doesn’t seem to be responding any time soon, you do the same before padding into the kitchen to have a look at what you have in the refrigerator and the cupboards to cook for dinner. You eventually settle on a simple dish, mac n cheese. It doesn’t take too long to cook and that’s exactly what you need seeing as you’re starving.

You take one of the many pots and pour some water in it before setting it on the stove on a medium heat to boil whilst you change into something a little comfier.

As soon as you enter your shared bedroom you see Andy making his way into the closet too and when you walk in he turns his head to see you staring right back at him, confusion all over your face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hoping that this time he might actually tell you rather than acting like you didn’t open your mouth “what did Ian want?” is all he says and it’s all he needs to say for you to know just why he’s acting off with you.

Ian and Julie have lived opposite you ever since you moved in and you automatically got along, all four of you. They’d get a babysitter for their children and you’d double date every now and then but those fun times were interrupted when Andy insisted that Ian had a thing for you. Although you tried to convince him that it wasn’t true and he was just paranoid, you couldn’t help but notice the evidence too. The way Ian would look at you and hold his stare a little too long, the way he’d flirt without you realising it at the time and obviously today, the way he had his hand on yours. Andy must have taken one look at that and assumed the worst.

“He asked if i’d go to the spa tomorrow with Julie, i said yes, why?” you have to be sure though, although you’re assuming now, you want him to be able to tell you what’s got him so bitter.

“I don’t trust him” he mutters as he finishes changing into some sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“He’s harmless Andy”

“I saw the way he was with you just now, touching you and giving you that shit eating grin, he knew what he was doing”

“Andy, whatever he thinks of me, i don’t care. I’m with you for a reason, can you just trust me”

“It’s not that i don’t trust you” he snaps

“Except it seems that way”

You hold off on changing for now, deciding that storming off childishly is the better option. Once you’re back downstairs you then place the pasta into the now boiling water, making sure to turn the heat up one more too.

“Why can’t you just see things from my perspective here?” he wonders out loud as he leans on the kitchen counter, catching your attention. The way his hands are in his pockets and his shoulders are hunched over, it makes you feel bad for even getting mad at him. Sure jealousy isn’t great but when he gets so worried about other men stealing you away you can’t help but realise just how much he loves you. He loves you so much that the thought of you leaving breaks him let alone if you were to actually go.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that and you’ve told him plenty of times.

“It’s not that i don’t see things from your perspective, it’s the fact that there’s no telling you. I would rather be alone for the rest of my life than be without you yet you’re too caught up with Ian having a little crush to notice that”

“Yeah well call me selfish Y/N, but i don’t ever want anyone else to touch you let alone flirt”

Instead of fighting back against him you step closer and wrap your arms around him as you stand on your tip toes and just as your lips touch his, his hands grip your face gently.

His grip tightens the more you kiss him and when you slip your tongue in, he loses all control. His hands dance all over your body, leaving no spot untouched. Goosebumps form all over as the kiss heats up, the pasta long forgotten on the stove as you’re too busy being ravished by your man.

“Someone’s very possessive” you mock, smirking a little into the kiss before he kisses you so hard it knocks the air from your lungs and when you pull away you’re gasping.

Your breathing hitches as he rests his forehead to yours, his handsome face inches away from yours and all you want to do is just claim his lips, just like you did seconds before. You can’t get enough of him.

However, he beats you to it, gripping your chin aggressively as he bites down on your bottom lip with need. You pull him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck loosely to which he happily obliges.

“Is that a problem?” he asks, raising his brows at you as you struggle to regain control of your breathing, you simply shake your head no in response, half expecting it to end here. But he has other plans.

“Good” he starts, slowly walking into the lounge leaving you stood there confused. So you decide to follow, only to find him laying down on the couch with his eyes trained on you.

“Now, why don’t you come sit on my face, let me show you how much i missed you today”

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him smile afterwards, you can’t quite believe that he’s all yours.

Without another second left to pass, you head over to him and begin to straddle his waist. He quickly takes control, moving you further up until you’re hovering above his chest.

Large calloused hands grip the hem of your skirt, slowly pushing it up to expose your laced black panties. Andy can’t help but choke on air as he sets his eyes on your panty clad mound. But rather than waste time, he starts to devour you over the lace before eventually slipping them to the side and feasting on you like a man starved.

The sensation causes you to throw your head back and practically scream due to how good it feels. His tongue on you like this will never get old, it’ll always be one of the best things in life, one that you’ll continue to enjoy for many years to come. The way his skilful tongue glides over your puffy folds with such precision before he eventually latches on to your bundle of nerves, it’s almost too much to bare and you can feel the coil tightening already with every suck and lick.

And when he slurps on you as he drinks the juices that pour from your fountain you’re unable to stop your hips from moving on their own accord and before you know it, you’re grinding yourself on him desperately as he lays there taking it like the greedy man he’s always going to be for you.

For him, you’re it. You’re the one and you always have been since he first met you.

After Laurie he didn’t expect to ever want another woman again until you came along. You rocked his world, turned it upside down and since then, he’s been hooked. He’s obsessed with the taste of you, the smell of you, the sight of you and the sound of you. You ignite a fire within him, alert all of his senses and turn his whole body into gooseflesh. Just the way he loves.

He flickers his eyelashes before looking up at you as his hands make their way to your perfectly shaped ass so that he can dig his claws into the soft skin of your round globes, causing you to keen for more.

The sounds your making should have alerted the neighbours by now but even if they do, Andy doesn’t care. He just loves the music you make as you arch your back, still riding his tongue as he pushes it further into your tight and wet hole.

“Please, Andy” you cry out, reaching down to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, you’re desperate now, even more so.

“Hm?” he mumbles, the noise vibrating onto your pussy “i’m gonna cum” you breathe out heavily, trying to gain control over the situation but failing miserably. 

Andy rests his hands on your hips, stilling the movements before diving back in for more. He swirls his tongue around your folds once again before ultimately settling his plump lips around your pulsating clit and sucking like his life depends on it.

You can’t hold back anymore, the sinful moans are enough to make him cum too without you even so much as touching him.

And with one final suck and two of his fingers massaging your folds, you cum with a frantic sob. Your body launches forward and he pulls you down so that you’re laying on top of him.

He strokes your back delicately, soothing your shaking body. He can feel your legs jolting every couple of seconds.

Eventually you get off of him and attempt to stand up but of course, you fail miserably.

“So, how was that?” he rasps, chuckling simultaneously

“Perfect, oh and i missed you too today” you smile and he eventually stands up as you slouch down.

“Good, now just let me finish the job then we can order takeout” he says, causing you to furrow your brows but the unasked questions have their answer once he gets on his knees on the floor between your legs and dives right back in.

You shiver a little, your pussy is still trying to recover but he just can’t get enough. His tongue laps at the cum still spilling out of you, making sure that every last drop is inside of his mouth before swallowing it all.

“Now i’m done” he quips and you sit up a little, pulling him closer to you so you can get a taste of yourself on his tongue. Once he slips it into your mouth you can’t help but get carried away, until the door knocks, disturbing you from your peaceful and romantic moment.

You stand up to go and answer it, quickly sorting out your appearance in the hallway mirror before you open it. It’s Ian.

“Ian, hi... again” you giggle nervously as you turn to see Andy’s face change from content to angry in seconds. He practically jumps up off the couch to join you at the door, his beard still damp with your arousal.

You watch as Andy stares the poor man down before wiping at his face.

“I was just stopping by to let you know that Julie wants to leave at 10 instead, you know because of traffic and all” you can practically smell anxiety on him and Andy notices it too.

“Sure, that works for me” you say before the situation turns awkward.

You glance over at Andy who is just stood there watching him intently but he’s coming off rather intimidating.

“Anyway, we’re about to order takeout Ian so we have to go” Andy adds in before snaking his arm around you waist and pulling you closer to him, you follow Ians eyes as he looks down at your skirt and you can only hope Andy didn’t spot that but judging by the change in his breathing, he did.

Shortly after Andy bids Ian goodbye and as he’s walking off, you’re still in the doorway.

You turn to your jealous boyfriend and tut, resting your hands on your hips but he soon disbands your serious facial expression as he smacks your bum which causes you to squeal.

“Andy”

“Let’s get you to bed so i can really show you how much i missed you” he kicks the door shut as he picks you up to carry you to your shared bedroom and you just know you have a long night ahead of you.

-----------

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[wrctings]

Jean Kirschtein x reader | Friends, or is it more?

the more i watch aot, the more i love jean... his moments of self-doubt and his moved smile truly are heart-wrenching 🥺

fandom: Attack on Titan pairing: Jean Kirschtein x reader summary: Where you realise that you’re falling for your best friend, whose heart is already taken—or so you thought. Fortunately, what becomes a saddening party can also turn into an unexpected occasion to make things right. word count: 3.3k

Sometimes, belonging to the Scouts regiment came with something that, from up close, resembled a flicker of momentary joy. You had, of course, been aware of the harrowing shadow of a reputation that trudged behind the wings of liberty: danger, death and despair; the three Ds accompanying your pledge to humanity drummed their deafening beat alongside your horse's frenzied gallop whenever you took place in the formation that led you outside the walls, the wind hurling through your hair and your senses at the height of their tension, ready to signal the approach of a titan at any given minute, bracing your body for every possible threat. You had faith in commander Erwin, had faith in your comrades—if giving your life was necessary for your cause, then, you had silently promised yourself and your people, you would give it with eyes wide open and undefeated fierceness, be it in the heat of battle or any other way. The wings embroidered upon your cape represented your beliefs more intensely than any word—as long as there was a Scout left, hope would live still; blossom upon the tall grass that freely grew upon the tombs of your fallen comrades. Even the smallest victory made you believe that a change could be made—and even the smallest victory was celebrated in the battalion as a sign that bode well for the foreseeable future. It was such celebrations, though as small as the victories they marked, that made room for moments of joy the regiment could barely encounter at other times. And when those moments came, life suddenly appeared coated with a hundred colours, full of humorous idiocies and heedless amusement that stirred up in you all the youthful glee of not caring about a thing in the world but the people around you and the drink in your hand.

"You guys won't believe the position we found Bertholdt in this morning!"

Seated beside Armin, who himself flanked Eren as Mikasa had naturally settled on the other side of their childhood friend, you leaned further on the wooden table of the barrack in order to hear your brunet friend more distinctly, his excited voice reviving the conversation at once. Drawn by a cheerful and carefree sort of curiosity, which was well fueled by the general bright mood, finding out about Bertholdt's daily sleeping position suddenly appeared like the most fascinating event one could discuss, especially when followed by the boys' weather previsions based on their comrade's often strange and tangled up poses. You exchanged an amused look with Mikasa, and though your friend's features remained almost as impassive as usual, the vivid twinkle you caught through the dark shine of her eyes mirrored your cheery behaviour; Armin's face, on the other hand, wore an expressive smile, the blond boy remembering vividly the description of Bertholdt that Eren began recounting.

But even as you laughed at the image of Bertholdt's knees somehow managing to stay bent as he slept on his stomach, the upper part of his legs outstretched toward the sky in an unusual—to say the least—position, your gaze went on sweeping the room, in search of the one person you couldn't wait to chat with again, though you also got along really well with Armin, Mikasa and Eren. The only problem was, said person was not that fond of the self-righteous brunet ball of energy sat at your table, so you were not surprised to find him in Conny and Sasha's company instead, talking animatedly. You had already had the opportunity to chat with Jean earlier that evening, the two of you having grown so close to each other that it would've been impossible for you not to cross paths tonight, but you wondered whether you would drift toward each other again before the makeshift party came to an end; Captain Levi had been surprisingly unbothered by your shy request to celebrate today's mission's success, accepting it on the sole condition that only soft drinks were to be consumed—Armin suspected that Commander Erwin was responsible for granting the new recruits' wishes, as they had after all already endured quite a lot during the expedition to retrieve Eren from Annie.

"We better watch out for that sleeping position of Bertholdt's, maybe it means good luck," Armin observed lightheartedly, taking a sip from his drink.

"You should keep a notebook with all of them, and maybe you'll crack the code someday," you added with a chuckle, the three of you glancing at Bertholdt.

Having your 104th comrades with you in the Scouts regiment really did bring you a lot of comfort to help you navigate these new uncharted waters, though it also made it acutely unbearable to imagine that some of them might not make it back next time; Marco served as your first and most painful lesson that even those dearest to you were never safe. It was after the freckled boy's death that you and Jean had truly bonded, brought together by the devastating loss of your kindhearted friend. You had become each other's rocks since then—checking up on each other after training sessions and expeditions, playful teasing and calling each other all sorts of funny nicknames rooted into the core of your friendship, giving it all its strength. And it was when you had been injured during the 57th expedition and Jean had almost hysterically ran up to you afterwards, cursing with no restraint and holding your arm so tightly it hurt when he helped you limp toward the medical wing, that you had been hit for the first time, though still shaken from slaying a titan and the bloody cut burning your leg, by how grateful you were to have made it out alive, to have Jean by your side. It was then that you had realised that there was no one else you would rather be with than him—it was something more than anything you've ever felt before, as your timidly pounding heart had been reminding you ever since.  

But another thing unavoidable when being friends with Jean, of course, was the bickering between your comrade and Eren—and this evening was no different from any other week. A few minutes later, as you engaged in a pleasant conversation with Armin, your attention was drawn by the thunderous eruption of voices that suddenly shook the walls of the barrack, making many pairs of surprised eyes turn toward the belligerent protagonists of the argument. It just had to be Eren and Jean, hadn't it? Like the rest of your comrades, you couldn't possibly guess where the spark that ignited this new inferno came from, but with these two, a valid reason often wasn't needed; to the greatest despair of the 104th, both boys possessed magic powers to summon reasons to fight out of thin air. At the present moment, both Eren and Jean were actively yelling at each other, shooting names and accusations back and forth.

However, the lack of rational incidents to cause such a scene didn't mean that there was no deeper reason for Jean's outbursts, just like Eren's counter-attacks originated from his legendary stubbornness already well-known to his fellow comrades. You had been suspecting for a long time that Jean mainly proclaimed his hatred towards Eren because of Mikasa. Before the 57th expedition, when both of you were in a playful and mischievous mood, you would even friendlily tease Jean about his soft spot for the dark haired young woman, which he hadn't hidden very well ever since Mikasa and he met for the first time. It was quite unfortunately, really, that your heart had finally chosen Jean, of all people, to fall for—as if you weren't well aware of how much he admired and liked Mikasa! And this mascarade surely had to have been orchestrated to get her attention, just like many other failed schemes of Jean's, as Mikasa barely seemed interested in anyone but Eren, Armin, sometimes Sasha, and you.

"There he goes again..." You muttered downheartedly, sparing a glance at your best friend.

"It's Eren and Jean, after all..." Armin responded with a sorry smile, squirming on the bench to get further away from Eren, who was now up on his feet and facing Jean with balled up fists. Mikasa watched the two boys through squinted eyes, at the ready to jump and knock over Jean if needed—at least, your friend's plan to get her attention had succeeded.

"I know how this is going to end," you told Armin under your breath, averting your gaze from the fighters. "You know what, I think it's right about time for me to head off. I don't want to witness Captain Levi tearing their heads off for wrecking havoc in here."

"Really? Don't you want to stay a little longer? I'm sure it won't come to this!"

"I don't even want to know. Goodnight, Armin, thank you for the nice chat," you excused yourself, fleeing from the barrack swift as a cat, only the passage of a furtive ray of light on the floor signifying that the door to the room had been opened as quickly as it was closed.

You knew better than to cling onto something you could not reach, so why endure the spectacle of such a foolish play?

*

Outside, nighttime had descended upon the camp with its soothing quietness. Nothing in sight but the warm flutter of torches fixed upon the barracks; nothing ringing in your ears but the chirping melody of a cricket's song, its echo delicately carried away by the evening wind. No ecstatic shouting, no blaring laughter. Nothing but a lone constellation half-veiled by the grey trail of clouds that unhurriedly floated upon the dark depths of the sky. No Jean, no Eren. You took a lungful of fresh air before a long sigh lifted off your chest—if only things could go back to the way they had been. Back when Jean was nothing but a fun and (sweetly) annoying horse-faced boy to be around, and no cause for heartache.

You took some more steps ahead, the muffled sounds you could still hear from inside dying out as you walked further away. Although you had told Armin that your time to go had come, you didn't feel like getting back to bed right now; actually, you didn't feel like anything but escaping for a little while.

At last, you decided to retrace your steps, taking a seat on the ground beside the barrack you had abandoned, your back pressed against its wooden surface. On the other side, the cacophony hadn't ceased, only muffled by the wall that separated you from the inside mayhem. Had Jean and Eren opted for a fistfight denouement by now? Would Mikasa intervene?

But before you had enough time to explore the many scenarios your imagination could sketch out, the door beside which you had settled opened abruptly, a wide stream of light flooding the ground at once. In the blink of an eye, a visibly disconcerted figure appeared on the threshold, freezing as they took a look around before rapidly bifurcating to the side in order to follow one of the torchlit paths...

"Jean?"

"Y/n?! What are you doing here?" Jean rushed toward you as soon as he noticed your silhouette from behind the shadows, discovering your hiding-place. "I didn't even see you leave..."

"I'm sorry, I was starting to feel tired." Touched by the fact that Jean had left the room to look for you, you attempted to give him a plausible excuse.

"C'mon, you can get through a day of training, but you can't get through one of the only party nights we're lucky enough to have?" Jean taunted, taking a seat next to you. "What's the matter?" he gently elbowed you, throwing his neck back so he could press his head against the wall behind. "Just when I was about to defeat Eren..."

"Defeat Eren, really? Statistically, it's more likely for Captain Levi to smile than for us to see that happen," you laughed tiredly, trying not to think about how Jean would probably soon get back to Mikasa and the others.

"Yeah, yeah, tease me all you want, it'll happen. Someday this idiot will get his ass handed to him."

Closing your eyes, you only had it in you to maintain the forced smile painted over your lips while fighting back the rush of stinging tears that suddenly overwhelmed you. Why did Jean had to come and check up on you now of all times, right when you were more than ever convinced that you were starting to fall for him, and it couldn't be clearer that his every move longed for someone else?

"You know, I was going to get him, but Mikasa can get scary..." It was as if he could decipher the riddles of your mind, unaware of the way your heart convulsed. "I wouldn't want to cross her. Why would she hang out with this idi—"

"Look, Jean, if you've come here to rant about this, then you can leave," you ended up snapping, biting back more acre words . "I'm tired, okay? Just get back to the fun inside."

"You... You don't feel like talking?" Jean's voice softened from incomprehension, trying to read your tone. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was that bad. Hey, you really don't want to talk?"

You shook your head in response, scolding your own self for such pathetic behaviour. Jean couldn't possibly know about your suppressed feelings, so your attitude must indeed appear more than confusing, especially since you were so used to confiding in each other and cheering each other up, for the past weeks more than ever. In the wake of Icarus's ascend towards the sun, untethered and naive, your wings of wax were melting... But who could've predicted, as much as a month earlier, that the loveable idiot by your side would doom you to downfall?  

"Okay... Well...," the young man ran a distracted hand through his hair, frowning as his jaw clenched. "Then I'll talk. You know, I had an idea for tonight," he began after collecting his thoughts, breaking through the hesitant seconds that had temporarily numbed his tongue. "It was our first successful expedition after that near-death experience after all, so I thought I'd better make the most of it and make tonight's celebration useful. Who knows when we'll get another one. Maybe you're right and it's actually more likely to see Captain Levi smile than to get another one of these again soon." Jean's speech ran freely now, his torrent of sentences—for the moment still not making clear sense as to where they were headed to—submerging you in the familiar flow of his voice. As of late, your greatest fear had become to miss its distress call in the ranging mist of a battle, to watch Jean's body be torn to shreds as you could only scream until everything else vanished... "So I thought I'd be brave, for once." He took a deep breath in, fingers nervously wrapped around the back of his own neck. "There's this person I like."

There it was. Somehow, you knew that it would be coming—after the stunt he pulled earlier with Eren...

"They're much braver than I am, but they probably know that already," Jean went on, chuckling self-depreciatingly—he knew he could poke at himself in your company without being ashamed of disclosing his flaws. "They wouldn't hesitate to come and rescue me, even if I were grabbed by a titan. And they're really beautiful, too—"

"Look, Jean, if you've come to talk about Mikasa, just save it," you could only murmur. "Pl—"

"And, quite surprisingly, they're also a dumbass!" Jean didn't let you finish either, shifting his head so he could see your face better. "But that's something both of us have in common." Taken aback by such a strange confession, you opened your eyes to take an intrigued look at Jean while hoping that he wouldn't notice the tears you had at last blinked away. You met his gaze head-on, even among the shadows that coiled over his face.  "Because they think that I still have a thing for a girl I liked for two weeks, while I've been talking about them all along."

"What—"

"You know, you're the one who makes being called "horse-face" the funniest," Jean cracked an unsure smile at you, fiddling with his hands. "Alright, it's the bravest I'll ever be, so time to crawl in a hole and die now," he immediately added more anxiously, looking like the unexpected nature of his confession had stricken him for the first time.

"Wait, Jean, no!" It was as if, for the first time in a span of unending minutes, you could breathe again. "Wait, is this... Is this for real?" You asked in what came out almost a whisper, fearing, in this instant where your hopes balanced on the edge of a precipice of churning doubt and elation, that this was a joke you would not be able to forgive. Jean was better than this, but what if?—the thought drilled into your heart.

"Well... Yes. I'm sorry if I've made things awkward, it's Armin who told you might like me too and—"

"Hey, hey," your hand found its way to Jean's arm in a comforting touch, preventing him from leaving as he made a move to flee after blurting out an apology. Judging by your frantic heartbeat, there was no way you could be the calmer person in this situation—and yet, Jean somehow managed to look even more distressed than you at the moment. "I do like you." It was your turn to get embarrassed, which your flushed cheeks openly betrayed, illuminated by the nearby torch's flitting flame. "But Mikasa...?"

"Y/n, I haven't liked Mikasa for longer than a few weeks. I mean, yes, she's beautiful and strong, but so are you. And you're so much more than that. You're so fun to be around, I haven't laughed so hard with anyone but you. Unlike me, you're not scared to be brave and kind, but with you, I don't need to think which face I need to put on, because I know we don't have to pretend to be someone we're not when we're around each other. And when you got injured... I couldn't stand the thought of losing you. I made myself a promise then that I would tell you, and tonight seemed like the right time. I've been talking to Armin after the expedition and I think he kind of guessed that I liked you, and that you liked me too—I don't even know how or why, but he told me he thought you did. That's not exactly how I thought it'd go but... Trying to get your attention by getting in a fight with Eren wasn't that good of a plan, I guess."

"So that's what it was...! You really are an idiot, Jean Kirschtein," you declared vivaciously, but the moved smile that brightened your face spoke louder than the fond insults Jean and you would fire at each other. "We need to watch out for Armin, he will uncover everyone's secrets, at this rate..." You joked before regaining a more serious attitude, your emotions truly swayed by your friend's avowal. "The expedition changed everything for me too. I realised that I didn't want to go without you. No, I realised that I didn't want to go at all—I wanted to stay. With you."

"Pff, get in line," Jean grinned in spite of the emotional look on his face, sighing in relief. "I've been liking you for months."

"Seriously?"

"Absolutely. Do you think I go out of my way to check up on everyone after a battle or that everyone's mom gets the privilege of being the centre of my skilfully crafted jokes?"

"Shut up," you laughed wholeheartedly, your shoulder against Jean's. "Your mom's a hoe."

"Very clever," he teased you in return, face glowing from a joy even more vivd than the fiery sparks that chased the night's spectres away. “I bang yours every night.”

You burst out laughing, rolling your eyes—mom jokes were a must in your goofy friendship. A friendship that, with a bit of unpredicted luck, was on the verge of becoming something more.

[imagineyourworld]

The Plan

Echo x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend just broke up with you, but you have the perfect plan to get him back (Set before Citadel)

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking, slight allusion to sex, teeny tiny bit smutty towards the end

Check out more of my work here and what’s coming soon

——-

Sure, maybe you were being petty. Maybe you should have spent the evening on your couch with a romantic holo and a bowl full of ice cream. Maybe this plan would backfire and you’d regret it for the rest of your days. But you had to try, not just for yourself, but also for Echo. Echo, who less than twenty four standard hours ago had broken up with you and who you knew would be spending his last night on Coruscant before being deployed again at 79s. And even if he wouldn’t realise that he’d made a mistake by breaking up with you, you could at least spend an evening out with your best friend and her girlfriend while wearing your new fabulous dress. Though you were sure of your plan just a few moments ago, and it had sounded even better coming from your friends mouth, you were no longer certain. As soon as you entered the bar a couple of eyes fell on you and your companions, and though you knew both your friend and her girlfriend looked fabulous, you couldn’t help but feel like they followed you on your way to the bar. “You need to relax”, your friend whispered to you after ordering your drinks. All you managed to do was a shaky nod, and luckily you were saved from having to answer her by someone you weren’t sure you really wanted to see. “You clean up nicely, mesh’la”, someone behind you said and made you turn around. “Thanks, Fives.” Your voice was not as smooth as you wanted it to be. If Fives was here, talking to you, that could only mean that Echo was not far. “I suppose you’re not just here for a drink, are you?” At first you wanted to lie and tell him that that’s exactly why you were at 79s, then you considered telling him that you wanted to forget about Echo by looking for someone else, but you knew that Fives would be able to see through any lie, he could read you almost as well as Echo could. “I suspect Echo told you everything?” Fives didn’t even need to confirm your suspicion, his expression told you everything. “Listen, mesh’la”, he started. This time there was a sad ring to the familiar nickname, that had almost become an inside joke between the two of you. “I understand why Echo did it. I don’t think it was the right choice, but I understand and I know you do too.” You took a moment to answer. First you reached for your drink first, using the movement to glance at your friend, who was in deep conversation with her girlfriend and wouldn’t be any help. “Whose side are you on anyways?”, you asked Fives. He just shrugged, his eyes fixated on something, or someone, behind you, but your pride told you not to turn around. Instead you tried to focus on the familiar warmth of Fives’ hand as he held onto yours and the words you knew would be coming out of his mouth. “You’re one of my best friends, but Echo’s my brother, my vod. But I suppose if everything goes according to your plan there won’t be sides to choose from after tonight.” He didn’t give you time to reply before he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head and disappeared in the crowd. But for a few more moments you could feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, a pair of eyes that had been watching your entire interaction. “I think Echo saw all of that”, your friend whispered in your ear, confirming your suspicion.

——-

It took you about half an hour to realize that your plan had to change. You knew your dress would catch Echo’s attention, his eyes would be drawn to you and every now and then you caught him staring from the other end of the bar. The blue and white dress mirrored the 501st’s amour, both in colour and in style, was tight at the top and came loose around your knees, which, combined with a sparkling necklace that rested where your breasts began, drew attention to what you knew was Echo’s favourite body part of yours, your boobs. And your eyes, he would always insists. And though you believed him from the countless times he had gotten lost in your eyes, you knew that deep down he was a boobs man through and through, so of course the dress for the night had been strategically chosen. The downside, however, was the second part of your plan. You had been hoping to catch Echo’s attention with your dress and then make him realize what he was missing by flirting with as many of his brothers as possible, because even though he wasn’t possessive, he wasn’t the biggest fan of his brothers getting more of your attention that him. But to really get to him it had to be one of the brothers he was close to, preferably someone from the 501st. Though it seemed as if Echo had warned all of them not to approach you, because every time you caught someone’s eye you saw them looking at Echo before nodding at you and disappearing in the crowd. Only Fives had actually talked to you, but since Echo knew that he was almost like a brother to you that was no use. The next step in your plan would have been to find someone else to flirt with, maybe someone from the 212th or 104th, only this time it wasn’t Echo, but your dress, that ruined your plan. The dress that seemed to be made for you, that made you feel beautiful and confident, also told every clone that you belonged with the 501st, or rather someone in the 501st. So here you were, sipping on your third drink of the night while your friend and her girlfriend were having the time of their lives on the dancefloor. That is until a voice pulled you out of your depressing thoughts. “Since when do you drink alone?” You jumped up from your chair to hug the blond clone. “Rex! It’s good to see you.” You felt rather than heard his low chuckle from how tight you were hugging him. “What are you doing all alone at the bar? The others have a booth in the back and I was just about to join them, why don’t you come with?” You knew that if he set his mind to it, Rex could be quite a good actor, which is why you weren’t sure whether he even knew that Echo had broken up with you. “Rex-”, you began, but before you could protest he slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you along with him. By the time you reached the booth you still hadn’t come up with a good excuse, which is why you found yourself sitting next to Kix at a table with a few members of the 501st, but no Echo. It was quite awkward at first, but after a few minutes of idle conversation with the boys it was as if you had been there with them all evening, as if nothing had happened. “I really like your dress, by the way. The colours are really-”, Jesse said with a smirk, but he was interrupted by a familiar voice behind you. Yes, most people said that the clones all sounded the same, but you could have told Echo apart by just his breathing, there was no way anyone else would ever say your name like that. “(Y/N), you’re in my seat.” You could tell that Echo was really trying to be casual, to pretend you were acquaintances, maybe even friends, and had never been anything else, just from the way he said your name. But you had heard him say and scream and whisper and moan your name often enough to tell every single emotion he must be feeling right now. And despite the anger, that was practically radiating off of him, it was the love that made you turn around. “Echo.” That’s all you said. Other than him you didn’t even try to hide your emotions, the quiver in your voice or the love in your eyes. There was no point in trying, you knew he could read you just as well as you could read him. “You should leave.” Echo’s tone was harder now that he’d had a moment to conceal his feelings. But there was no way you’d leave now. You finally had his attention, his full attention, and he was actually talking to you. You didn’t say anything, just looked at Echo, who was staring back at you. You knew it would only take a few more seconds, maybe a bit more sadness in your expression, and he’d relent. But then Hardcase, sweet, clueless Hardcase, just had to break the spell. “Don’t be like that, Echo. You can sit next to me, there’s no need to make (Y/N) get up.” What choice did Echo have but to agree? So there he was, almost across from you at the same table, with Kix on your right talking to Fives and Rex and your left putting a reassuring hand on the small of your back. But no matter how much you stared, how much you tried to force Echo to look at you with pure willpower, he ignored you. As time went on he talked to his brothers, laughed with them and pretended you weren’t even there. Even ‘accidentally’ kicking him underneath the table or ‘fixing’ the top of your dress didn’t make him as much as glance in your direction. You were almost ready to give up, to ask Fives or Rex to walk you home, since your friend had found you at the table and asked if it was alright if she and her girlfriend left a while ago, when a clone you didn’t know walked up to you. His amour was a light, almost pastel, green, his hair styled almost exactly the same as Echo’s and a tattoo of some sort of flower ran up the side of his neck. “Sorry to bother you”, he started. Though his words didn’t catch everyone’s attention, they caught yours, and apparently also that of Echo, Fives and Rex. “I was just wondering… Are you with anyone or would you care to dance with me?” He was looking at you with a hopeful expression in his eyes. And even though you had been ready to admit defeat for tonight and just go home, you couldn’t deny his puppy dog eyes and the sweet smile. But it wasn’t just that, the moment the other clone spoke up Echo’s eyes had finally drifted over to you and all of the sudden it seemed as if your plan might work after all. You gently nudged Rex so he’d stand up and let you out of the booth. It wasn’t until you were standing in front of the clone that you answered. “I’d love to dance with you. And no, I’m not with anyone.” You could hear Echo’s sharp intake of breath, which only caused your smile to widen. “Great! That’s great. I just thought that maybe, because your dress is the same colour as their amour that you were in a relationship and I wouldn’t want to come between that. My name is Primrose, by the way.” As you linked your arm with his and looked up at him you noticed that the flowers on his neck were in fact primroses.

——-

“You know, it’s your fault.” “Shut up, Fives”, Echo growled at his brother. “Not only were you the one who broke up with her, you’re also the one who’s been ignoring her all night long.” “Shut up, Fives”, Echo repeated, this time accompanied by a slight kick against his brother’s leg. Echo felt his brothers’ eyes on him as he finished his drink while watching you dance with Primrose. The two of you were closer than you needed to be, your smile was wider than it needed to be and his hands were on your body more than they needed to be. “He’s right”, Jesse said with a nod in your direction. This finally made Echo tear his eyes away from you. “Not you too”, he sighed, wishing he’d either have another drink nearby or that the song would end and you’d return without Primrose. “But Fives is right”, Kix insisted. For just a brief second Echo considered murdering his brothers. The moment passed as soon as it had come, but the desire to make them shut up remained. “Why did you even break up with her? You’re clearly still in love with her”, Rex asked. By the time even his Captain opened his mouth, probably even earlier when Rex had dragged you along with him, Echo knew the entire universe had to be against him. “She deserves better.” That’s all he said. All he had said when he had broken up with you, all he’d tell his brothers. “That’s banthashit and you know i-”, Fives was interrupted by your return to the table. The moment your arse hit the worn out cushion you downed the drink in front of you, not caring that it wasn’t yours, but Rex’s, who stared at you in dismay. “Wow there, mesh’la, was he that bad of a dancer?”, Fives laughed. You shook your head with a smirk. “Quite the opposite, actually. But I’m thirsty and he had to leave because his company is being send on a mission early tomorrow. Speaking of leaving, I think I’d better get home, it’s getting late. Would one of you boys walk me home?” Before anyone could say or do anything Echo shot up from his seat, almost upsetting the table with the rapid movement. “I’ll do it.”

——-

Though you had been happy when Echo first announced he’d walk you home, the happiness didn’t last long. The entire way he didn’t say a word, even to your questions he only nodded or shook his head instead of an actual answer. “You didn’t have to walk me home, you know. One of the others could have done it, or I could have walked alone.” You hadn’t expected Echo to your annoyed statement since he hadn’t said anything to things you had hoped would force him to talk to you. “You know I’d never let you walk home alone in the dark, cyar’ika.” You could tell from the way he tensed up next to you that he hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to call you by the nickname he knew you loved so much. It was more of a force of habit than anything else. “It speaks”, was your sarcastic reply. You refused to look at Echo, but you had a feeling he was biting his lips to keep himself from saying anything else. Lucky for him you stopped in front of your building just then and there was no need for him to say anything other than goodbye. You walked over to the door, shifting your small purse before looking at Echo over your shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you around.” Quickly you turned back around so he wouldn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes. The evening, the plan, had been a disaster. You were now a hundred percent certain that Echo didn’t want you back, didn’t have feelings for you anymore, and had only walked you home due to… what? A sense of obligation? To not be an even bigger dick? It wasn’t until you had already punched in half of your access code into the keypad next to the door that Echo spoke up. “Can I walk you to your apartment?” You finished typing in your code before you turned around, hoping Echo wouldn’t be able to see how much his words affected you. But all worries, all reasons not to let him into your flat, into your life, again, vanished the second you looked at him. There was no way you could ever say no to him, no way you could deny him anything when he was looking at you with so much hope and fear and… love… in his eyes. “Okay”, you whispered. A weak answer, but the only one you managed without your voice breaking. “Okay”, he repeated, a smile brightening his handsome face. In the blink of an eye he was next to you, holding the door open for you, then guiding you towards the lift. He was standing closer than before, you could feel his body heat through your dress and his amour on the ride to your flat. Once you arrived on your floor you hurried to your door, typing in the code before Echo could see it, but you should have known the ARC trooper would catch the numbers you pressed. “You still have my CT number as your code?” You let him into your flat before following and closing the door behind you. “I didn’t have time to change it yet.” The small smile on his lips vanished at your words. For once it seemed that he had bought your lie. “So you wanted to change it?”, he asked. His voice was quieter than before, his eyes went from you to his shoes and back to you. “Did you come up here to talk about my acess code?” You couldn’t hide the annoyance in your voice. All night Echo had been either ignoring you or glaring at you, then all of the sudden he was being nice and calling you “cyar’ika” again and then all he wanted to talk about was the stupid code for your stupid door? “I… No, that’s not why I wanted to come up. I… Can we sit down?” You nodded and lead Echo over to your small couch, where the two of you sat down, but this time a bit farther apart. Though still close enough that you could touch him if you reached out. “Cya- (Y/N), you need to stop whatever it is you’re doing. Wearing that dress you know I adore, flirting and dancing with my brothers and drawing my eyes to you every waking moment.” He took a deep breath, not meeting your eyes but instead focusing on your nose, your lips, your breasts, your hands. Though he didn’t look into your eyes, his never left your body. “We’re not together anymore.” If it wasn’t for the way his voice shook as he said the last words, the way a single tear threatened to slip out of his left eye, the way he looked at you as if wanting to commit every detail to memory, you would have believed him. But you couldn’t. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you couldn’t believe he actually meant what he said. “But why? You never gave me a reason for breaking up with me. Maybe, if you told me why, I could accept it, maybe even understand it.” His fingers twitched. Your hands were laying so close together on the couch, it would only take a few millimeters for the to touch. “Echo, why did you break up with me? Why did you break my heart?” Finally he looked at you. Really looked at you and saw you. More tears were welling up in his eyes, though none of them escaped. “I never meant to break your heart, I wanted to save it.” His words were a soft whisper, so soft you could have sworn you had imagined them, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, Echo continued. “I had to break up with you, don’t you understand? I had to make sure you wouldn’t get attached, because if we’re not together, if you don’t love me, your heart won’t get broken when I eventually die in this war.” You opened and closed your mouth a few times, but no words came out. Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, hours of Echo just looking at you, you managed to answer. “Is that the only reason?” It seemed as if he was at a similar loss for words, because Echo simply nodded. You shook your head. You couldn’t believe it. Of course you knew there had to be some sort of reason for Echo to break up with you, the two of you had been happy after all, but you wouldn’t have thought that that could be the reason, though it did explain his hot and cold behaviour. It wasn’t that Echo didn’t want to be with you, didn’t love you, he simply wanted to protect you. Slowly and gently you reached out until your hand cupped Echo’s cheek. You shifted closer to him and held his hand in your other hand. “I’m not even gonna discuss the fact that you think it’s inevitable that you’ll die in this war, that’s a conversation for another day. But Echo, my love, how could you think I wouldn’t be heartbroken if anything were to happen to you just because we’re not together? I love you. I have loved you before we started dating and I didn’t stop when you broke up with me, I don’t think I’ll ever stop. I’ve never felt this way before and of course I don’t want to imagine the heartbreak of losing you, but my heart breaks a little every time you leave, with every single scratch you get and everything you’re forced to endure in this war. And whether or not we’re together doesn’t change that, doesn’t change my love for you.” It wasn’t until you felt Echo’s thumb gently brushing across your cheek that you realized you had started crying. And so did he. Softly you placed your lips on his cheeks and kissed a few tears away, the salty taste speaking of love and hope and heartbreak. “I guess I’m pretty stupid, aren’t I?”, Echo tried to joke. But you shook your head. “No, never. You tried to protect me, even if it was the worst plan in the history of planning, that’s not stupid, that’s brave and selfless and I love you even more for it.” Echo nodded. He nodded and he cried and you cried until you started laughing and couldn’t stop. And when Echo joined in on your laughter you could have sworn your heart was soaring right out of your chest. “So, we’re together again?”, you asked. Instead of answering Echo leaned in until his lips were only inches away from yours and with a small sigh you closed the gap. Kissing him was familiar, but that didn’t make it any less loving and exciting. The kiss started out slow and careful, but soon you gently bit down on Echo’s bottom lip before soothing it with your tongue. Only when both of you needed to catch your breath did you part. “Do you love me again?”, you whispered against Echo’s lips just a second later. You felt, rather than saw, his grin. “I never stopped.” A chuckle made his way past your kiss swollen lips. “Me neither. And I never will.” He hummed in something you interpreted as both agreement and content before he touched your lips with his again. “One more thing, though”, he said between pressing pecks to your lips, his hands winding into your hair. “I hope you’ll wear that dress again soon.” You laughed. That you could do. It was a pretty dress and solely based on the looks he had shot you all night it had quickly become your favourite garment. “Sure. But how about I take it off for now?” Echo didn’t answer. Instead he started kissing, biting and sucking on your neck. You supposed that was a yes.

——-

Honestly, I don’t know what this fic even is! The original idea was smutty with a but of fluff, now it ended up being a fluffy and slightly angsty mess with just a sprinkle of suggested smut. But maybe it was enjoyable nonetheless, let me know! <3

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm. 

Masterlist here 

AO3 Link here

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’  Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ . 

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red. 

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers. 

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s. 

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves. 

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own. 

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’ 

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh. 

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky. 

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply. 

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion. 

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response. 

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink. 

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes. 

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’. 

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water. 

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’ 

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation. 

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next. 

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say). 

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart. 

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face. 

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.  

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap. 

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away. 

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips. 

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest. 

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’  by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes. 

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind. 

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that. 

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’ 

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’ 

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come. 

‘Tsumu?’ 

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses. 

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again. 

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes. 

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye. 

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka. 

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate. 

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home. 

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’. 

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.  

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a  dad  made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that  shit  - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated. 

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’ 

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’. 

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death. 

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see  hope  reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too. 

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands. 

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup. 

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family. 

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed. 

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips. 

[house-of-cakes]

Jamais Vu

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Prev || Next Chapter 22: And I Oop! 🤭 Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 1739

Warnings: Swearing, an over confident douchebag and Y/N and JK are major teases Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

It’s embarrassing how long this chapter took me to write  🤦‍♀️ If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊 Tagged list: @inspinkyring​ @betysotelo18​ @kardia-apo-marmelada​ @casspirit0705​ @preciouschimine​ @therealsugababe​  @lucedelsole97​ @deolly​ @lexy9716​  @thesweetest-peas​ @sannsia​ ​ ​

STORY CONTINUED BELOW THE CUT

A large group of excitable females crowded one end of the bar as the man behind it took two bottles and spun it around with dramatic flare before pouring a generous amount of alcohol into a shaker. Squeals of delight erupted from the crowd as he threw a handful of ice cubes into the air and successfully caught them all behind his back. He finished off the flashy routine by placing the shaker top back on the canister and entertain his audience one final time by dancing in body rolls while he shook up his concoction.

“Who’s thirsty?” He yelled out and in an instant the females grew feral with enthusiasm as they pushed and shoved each other, trying to be the first person to gain his attention.

Y/N observed the scene from the other side of the bar as she waited for her turn to be served. A girl with fire engine red hair managed to wrestle her competitors off and secured the position at the front of the bar.  She patiently stood before him, hoping her pleading eyes was enough for him to convince him to invite her for a drink.

Y/N’s nose crinkled in distaste. While she didn’t know the red head by name (she went by the name Red), she had seen the girl around the Basement and knew enough to know she deserved better than him.  

“I’m absolutely parched.” Her tone was slow and drawn out in attempts to sound sultry.

Y/N couldn’t contain the fake gagging noise she made. In her eyes the scenario was completely cringeworthy…maybe Red did deserve him.

‘I wouldn’t be caught dead chasing a guy like BeatBox Jae.’ She thought to herself.

Unfortunately, the sound she had made was loud enough to catch Jae’s attention.

An overwhelming amount of excitement welled in his chest when he realised he had the Kim Y/N in his sights. He turned his attention back to Red and gave her the most charming smile as he could muster as he made another big show of slowly pouring out two drinks.

“Sorry, bar’s closed.” He said with no hint of remorse then picked up the drinks and made his way over to Y/N, leaving the humiliation to sink in with poor Red.

“Here.” Jae said as he set the frosty martini glass in front of Y/N “I made you a drink, Beautiful.”

Y/N scoffed in his face and pushed the drink to the side, her blatant act of rejection did not even damper his mood.

“You’re an asshole you know, right? I can’t believe you did that to her!”

Jae nonchalantly shrugged off the comment as he took a sip from his drink. He didn’t care about the feelings or problems of others…if he wanted something, he knew that as the Maknae of The Basement Boys there wasn’t much that was unattainable by him. With a face that looked like it was carved by angels and an ego that was extensively fed his adoring fans of guys and girls…Jae was a lethal combination of charisma and arrogance.

It was exactly this attitude that repelled Y/N from him. “Don’t be like, Beautiful…let me take you out on a date and show you how much I like you.” “Oh really?” Y/N leant forward so that elbows were resting on the bar and cupped her face in her hands, making sure to looked up at him from under her long lashes with a cute pout. “Tell me three things you like.”  

Y/N was never discreet about her dislike towards Jae which only made him want her more. The fact that she was now showing genuine interest, made Jae feel like he was finally getting a head in a race he was lagging in.

“That’s easy… You’re hot as hell.” He said with enthusiasm and raised his hand so he could count the reasons as he listed them off “…cute too and the most gorgeous thing in the world.” He grinned proudly to himself, feeling satisfied that he answered the question well.

“Is that all?” “You only asked for three…did you want me to say super sexy too?” His response was smug

Y/N had to force a smile to hide her grimace. Of course the only traits he favoured were those of her appearance. She knew better than to ask those kinds of questions, especially to someone like Jae but once in a while she had the unstoppable urge to remind herself that men were trash.

“Sorry I don’t date guys who fuck around while they have girlfriends.” Y/N pulled herself of the bar and broke the illusion of interest she had Jae under. Though her abrupt change of attuite was enough to give him whiplash he was able to recover quickly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Beautiful.” “That’s not how I see it.” The tension grew thick in the air as they stared each other down.

For regulars of The Basement, it was common knowledge that Jae was one to sleep around. However, with her sharp observation skills as The Shopkeeper, Y/N was able to piece together his hidden shame. From what she could piece together it seemed that only the members of The Basement Boys were aware of this convoluted secret and the matter was kept within the crew.

“Don’t be silly Beautiful.” Jae was the first to speak, breaking the tension by playfully ruffling her hair and returning back to his same jovial self “Besides if anyone has to worry about significant others it should be me…your boyfriend has been giving us death glares.” “What?” Y/N asked trying to figure out who in the world he was talking about. Nods his head in the direction behind her before revealing who he is talking about. “SeokJin’s big buff cousin over there.” she turned around spotted a Jungkook looking disgruntled standing a few people back in the line for the bar. Their eyes met briefly before he turned the other way, pretending he wasn’t watching Y/N. “That’s not my boyfriend.” she said rolling her eyes “He’s just angry because he’s a sore loser.” “Thank God.” Jae exclaims as he clutches his chest overdramatically “I thought I had competition for a second.” “You don’t have to worry about that.” Y/N reassures him with a smirk “You actually act to be in the race to have competition.” She cheekily blows him a kiss and leaves him, no longer interested in getting a drink.

Y/N was well aware of the type of person Jae was, so never in a million years would she fall victim to his charms. If anything, she found it enjoyable to shut him down.

‘That should take him down a notch.’ She thought to herself

Jungkook was still facing away from Y/N as she drew closer to passing him on her way back to the balcony, she had every intention to walk by and ignore his existence and yet she had the unstoppable desire to mess with him too. Still high off her interaction with Jae, her body moved on its own accord and before she knew it her body was crashing into his as she purposely tripped herself. As if on instinct Jungkook was quick to wrap his arms around her to prevent her from falling.

“If you wanted me in your arms, all you had to do was ask…there’s not need to trip me over” Jungkook’s eyes widen at her accusation which caused her to chuckle. His arms dropped from around her and he stepped back to create space between them “I don’t blame you though…I am pretty irresistible in my new shirt.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He spat out in disgust “I don’t want anything to do with you, especially after I saw you help humiliate that red headed girl.” “Um…Sorry what?” Y/N’s mouth hung open in disbelief, he didn’t really believe she had anything to do with that? “Don’t act like you weren’t involved in that. I bet you couldn’t handle not being the center of attention for once, that’s why you called that bartender over to you.” “Excuse you? I’m not sure what you saw there but you must really have your head up your ass if you think that I had anything to do with that.” “Oh pah-lease!” Jungkook’s arms were crossed defensively “You might have everyone fooled but I see you for who you are… you’re nothing more than a spoilt princess!”

‘A spoilt princess?’

That comment really struck a nerve with Y/N. She had been called many unfavourable things in her lifetime and she had never been offended because to some degree the things they said were true so it never bothered her…she felt there was no point in getting upset with the truth, she accepted every aspect of herself - whether it be good or bad. However to be called a princess and a spoilt princess at that really pushed all the wrong buttons within her.

Y/N refused to conform to her mother’s notions of the importance of beauty and the concept of using her physical attributes to have things handed to her. Y/N valued independence, intelligence and hard work…to have this stranger discredit her like that was deeply insulting to her.

“Look here you jerkfaced asshole.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she scowled up at the tall male towering above her. “Maybe if you were a better competitor, you’d be able to win once in a while and then you wouldn’t have to take your passive aggression out on me.”

Jungkook couldn’t hide the grin that had taken over his face, even when Y/N was losing against him she had always managed to keep her emotions in check. This is the first time he had seen her flustered and openly frustrated…He enjoyed seeing her lose her composure.

“Whatever you say…” Jungkook closed the distance between them so that he could lean closer to her “…Princess” 

Y/N stiffened when she heard his smooth husky voice whisper in her ear, stirring an unfamiliar feeling of anticipation and delight within her. Those feelings quickly turned to repulsion when her brain had finally caught up to her and realised who she had been talking to. She let out a sound of disgust and pushed him away from her.

“Go fuck yourself, Asshole!” she spat before turning to leave him.

Jungkook watched Y/N storm off as he buzzing with satisfaction of knowing he had be the one to get under her skin for once.

[honeymoonjin]

𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: jimin x reader || 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 25k || 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎𝚜: fluff, angst, smut

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: you weren’t meant to have a roommate in your cabin deep in the amazon rainforest, but you find you can’t say no to the shy young college graduate that’s come to study the native butterflies.

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: cursing, death of a minor character (butterfly), explicit sexual content, oral (m receiving), praise, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, subby jimin, extremely soft smut

--------

It’s a day off.

That doesn’t mean you sleep in, though. You don’t know of a single person on the reserve that has been able to stay unconscious past sunrise without medical intervention. The chirps and calls of birds, buzzing of insects and drone of cicadas begins the moment the sun rises, sometimes even earlier, and while the cover of towering canopies filters out most of the light in the dense rainforest, the lodge camp is on an open meadow, and so you can’t avoid the heat that quickly sets in.

You’re happy to be up early, though, as it’s become a comfortable habit to make your way through your morning routine at your own pace, finally settling on your front porch with a cup of tea, bare toes poking out the cover of shadow from the lodge and into the bright pool of sunlight that warms the grass below.

Living in the middle of the Amazon rainforest wasn’t exactly something you had really planned ahead for as a young woman, but after falling in love with the place on a university trip, and then keeping an ear open for job opportunities, you had managed to land a job as a tour guide, being able to speak languages that their other employees couldn’t.

It’s a busy time of year at the Cuyabeno Lodge. Both local Ecuadorians and international tourists tended to avoid the rainier months, and after a particularly long wet season, it seemed all the bookings had been bottle-necked into one month now that the days were simply humid. Barely six in the morning, guests already roamed over the camp, some socialising over breakfast, others packing for day hikes in clumps spearheaded by your colleagues.

You take a deep draw from your mug, still steaming lightly, and feel the warm liquid warm your throat and chest, waking you up fully and putting you in a good mood. Most days, you’d crane your head down and watch the hard-working streams of leafcutter ants trail through blades of grass just taller than them, like small currents winding away towards the nearest meal. Their quiet determination and coordination was strangely fascinating to you, even after your several months living in their tropical habitat, but they aren’t what catch your attention today.

Across the wide expanse of open campground, two figures argue back and forth, one you recognise as your boss, the other a stranger lugging around three bulky suitcases and flapping a rolled-up map in confusion or desperation. You hum with curiosity, squinting at the figures as you finish off the dregs of your tea. They’re really too far for you to make out detail. All you can see of this frazzled man is the loose white tee and mussed-up blonde hair as he converses emphatically with the native Ecuadorian man that runs the lodge.

So distracted by the strange man, you don’t notice your boss turning and pointing to you until their figures start to grow in your vision as they approach. Your eyes widen and reflexively you down the last of your drink, placing the empty mug beside you on the wooden porch and staring at them hurrying over, both helping to lug over the excess baggage.

You realise the problem once they’re close enough to be in earshot. While the passionate Spanish and melodic Korean have similar phonetic sounds, it’s clear the two men are speaking completely different languages. You even hear your boss try some English - “we can talk to her, just a moment” - but it’s drowned out over the other man’s frantic explanations.

“Y/n, Y/n,” your boss greets with a tone of desperation colouring his local Spanish, “can you please help me speak to this man? We’ve had a booking error.”

Your eyes lift in surprise and you turn back to the stranger. It’s humid already, your skin warm even under the shade, but the sight of him sends a shiver down your spine. His hair isn’t totally blonde, slightly honeyed like it’s been dyed, and the warm sun sets it alight, framing the radiant skin of his face, which is angular on his jaw and nose yet soft on his cheeks and mouth, a full pout delicately pink. He’s beautiful.

You realise you’ve been staring directly at him a little too long as his cheeks colour the same shade as his lips, delicately coughing to break you from the trancelike state you found yourself in. You apologise hastily in your native language before switching to Korean when his eyebrow twitches in confusion. “I’m sorry,” you repeat in Korean, “I didn’t mean to be rude. My name’s Y/n.”

He smiles shyly, resting a hand over his forehead to block out any stray rays of light getting in his eyes. Doing this casts his face into shadow, and you can see now the warm, puppy-like brown of his irises, only half-visible as he scrunches up his cheeks. “Nice to meet you,” he greets, and you marvel at the melodic quality of his voice now that he speaks alone. It’s all soft tones, lilting even as his cheeks redden. “I’m Park Jimin. I, uh, I think they might have double-booked the room… I’m meant to be staying here,” he gestures behind you to your cabin and you blink a few times.

“Oh.” You turn promptly to your boss beside him; a stout middle-aged man who’s pretending to follow along the conversation, nodding in faux understanding even as his eyes glaze over. “Angelo,” you address, switching to the colloquial Spanish you’d grown accustomed to, “he’s saying you booked out my room.” Maybe not in those words, but still.

Angelo’s face crumples sheepishly. “About that… There’s a chance that we forgot to take your cabin off the booking website when you permanently moved it. It’s, uh, actually quite good luck that nobody has booked it in until now.” His voice trails up at the end like a question as he splays his palms out.

Awfully fond of the older man over your years here, you fight the twitch of your lips. “Good luck? This poor guy came all the way from South Korea only for his room to be already occupied. What; are you gonna just send him home?”

Your boss blinks slowly, lips pursed as he considers. “Well… That room is technically meant for two…” He trails off meaningfully with a shrug.

Your stare goes hard. “Angelo.” You force yourself not to glance at the man standing beside your boss. It doesn’t stop you from making out the concern on his face, and you feel your jaw stiffen. “The agreement when I moved here was that I got my own space. Why can’t he stay somewhere else?”

He sighs, rubbing his weathered face. “That’s selfish, Y/n-”

“I’m selfish, then. I’m telling you, I don’t wanna share my space.”

“And I’m telling you that you don’t have a choice. It’s only temporary. He stays.”

Before you can protest further, Angelo shows you his back, rushing away the way he came. You go limp with resignation, leaning back against one of the wooden posts on the veranda.

There’s no excuse for you to avoid his gaze now, so you reluctantly tip your head towards him. He’s shifting his weight back and forth nervously, pillowed lips pressed together and eyes downcast. Against your will, some of the anger slips from you, relaxing the tension in your jaw and the hardness from your voice. “Guess you’re rooming with me,” you murmur in Korean, snapping his attention back to you.

His eyes dance worriedly over your face. “I h-hope it’s not too much bother. I didn’t mean to make things difficult.” Jimin scratches at his exposed collarbone, leaving red lines on the almond skin. He speaks so softly, like a child in trouble. “I can sleep on the floor if I need to. All I really need is one room to set up my equipment.”

You frown, eyes darting to the three heavy suitcases behind him, as well as the bulky backpack slung over one shoulder. “Equipment?” As your eyes wander, they’re drawn to the pockets of people beginning to cluster behind him, the staff and locals whispering back and forth with eyes locked on Jimin’s silhouette. Pushing off the post, you pick up your mug and stand up straight again. “Actually, let’s talk inside. You look like you’re about to keel over.”

He doesn’t, but you don’t fancy giving the gathering crowd more time to ogle the mysterious man seemingly moving in to your private accommodations. Not even 9am and your day was already shaping up to be a disaster.

"It's a nice place," Jimin offers up weakly as you reach for the lightest suitcase, figuring you should probably help at least a little.

You grunt in confirmation, leading him - as he waddles with two larger pieces of luggage and the backpack - down the short hallway to the room across from yours. You'd been using it as a sort of living room; it had a single bed that you'd repurposed as a couch, a cheap projector that you used to stream Netflix onto the opposite wall as a makeshift television, and a couple bookshelves of novels, Spanish textbooks, and knick knacks you'd acquired over the past two years or so.

Jimin doesn't make it through the doorway as is. Instead, he stops and shuffles each piece in one-by-one, the final, largest hardshell suitcase dragging noisily along the doorframe as it barely squeezes in. He straightens up with a huff of exertion and lifts the edge of his white shirt, dabbing the sweat off his face.

You blink, staring at the smooth, flat planes of his stomach as he hunches over self-consciously. He makes the motion quick, clearly shy of revealing skin to a near-stranger. However, long after his shirt falls back in place, your mind is still replaying the sight of his pale caramel skin taut over his hip bones, and the thin trail of golden, almost translucent hair that leads from his belly button down past the button of his jeans.

Jimin coughs in discomfort and you swallow hard, forcing the image out of your mind for now. “Um,” you start, cringing at the way your voice wavers, “anyway; this is your room. I can move out my stuff for you.”

He nods, still awkwardly hovering in the doorway, hunched behind the suitcases like he’s trying to keep a barrier of protection between the two of you.

Like a final wisp of smoke from a blown-out candle, the last of your irritation distinguishes, and you sink down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s not you,” you explain softly, face crumpled into an apologetic frown. “I was angry at the situation, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

His eyes dance around the room, before finally jumping up to yours, a tentative smile playing at his plush lips. “It’s okay,” he shrugs simply, “I invaded your territory without warning; it’s only natural for you to react defensively.”

You blink. “Uh…” The silence you trail off into is stiff, but you find yourself at a loss for words. “Sorry, you never got the chance to tell me; what is it you do exactly?”

He shuffles out from behind the nearest suitcase with glittering eyes. “I’m a lepidopterist,” he announces proudly, before correcting, “well- not yet, I guess. I’m here to do research for my thesis.”

You mouth the unfamiliar word, frowning. “But we don’t have leopards in Ecuador.”

He grins, then, and your heart stutters unevenly in your chest at the way it lights up his whole face. “A lepidopterist studies butterflies and moths. I’m here to study the life cycle of a specific butterfly that’s found in this type of habitat.” His expression turns sheepish. “I know most people find it silly, or- or girly that I want to study butterflies for a living, but they’re really special. Special to me.” He glances down, then, gripping self-consciously at the strap of his backpack. “Anyway… I don’t mean to ramble, you probably have stuff to do-”

“I’d love to see them some time, if you wanna show me,” you blurt. “The butterflies, I mean. See what all the hype is about.”

His eyes crinkle at your interruption, cheeks warming candy pink. You fight a blush of your own, again overcome by how radiant he is. “Of course! Though- Don’t you live here? Surely you’ve seen them before. The one I’m studying, the longwing erato, it’s said to be pretty abundant in these parts.”

“I mean, sure, I’ve seen butterflies around,” you shrug. “But I haven’t seen Park Jimin’s butterflies.”

He lets out a flattered laugh, soft and tinkling. “Oh, they’re not my- I just-” He breaks off with another giggle, cheats heating up even further, biting desperately on his bottom lip to suppress a shy grin.

As much as you love seeing him all flustered, it’s his first day, so you cut him some slack. Standing up, you snake past the scattered suitcases and pat him on the shoulder. He ducks out of the doorway to let you pass, mouth dropping into a shocked oh shape at your sudden movement, but you just throw a playful warning glare at him as you pass into the hallway. “I have one rule,” you declare firmly.

He stays silent for a moment, waiting for you to continue. You simply lift your chin and stare, waiting for him to ask. It’s Jimin that breaks first, but that doesn’t surprise you. “Uh, which is?”

“No bugs in the house. As pretty as butterflies are, you keep them outside, got it?”

He smiles softly, but you can see a cheeky glimmer in his eyes. “Butterflies aren’t actually bugs, they’re lepidoptera.”

You flatten your glare. “You aren’t a bug either but if you break my rules, I’ll chuck you out.”

He baulks, eyes widening innocently. “I, uh… I don’t know if you’re joking or not,” he admits in a small voice.

“Good.” You throw him one last satisfied smile, and leave.

--

You manage to occupy yourself for the rest of the day outside of your now-shared hut, wanting to give him some space to settle in. Though you successfully keep your eyes away, pitching in on some errands that needed doing throughout the campsite, you couldn’t stop your mind from lingering on the gentle, unsure young man that was now going to be staying with you.

In fact, you’d ran over those fifteen or so minutes together so many times that when you finally came home, feet aching and stomach grumbling, it almost came as a surprise to you to see him wandering around and greeting you as you entered. Like a reminder that it wasn’t a movie you had seen, that he was a real thing that happened that morning.

“Hungry?”

“Huh?” You blink, very nearly tripping on the lip of your own front door as your eyes fall downwards, to the coffee table in the main room. The haphazard mess of snacks, remotes, and other knick knacks had been neatly placed on the floor beside the couch, and instead the square wooden table was laden with food, the quantity of which you hadn’t seen in this hut the entire time you’d been here. “Oh my god, what is all this?”

Running a hand through his hair anxiously, he shrugs. “I packed myself a bunch of food from home in case I got homesick.”

You tip your head to the side with a frown. “You’re homesick already?”

He lets out a breathy laugh, sheepish. You swallow down the way your stomach flips, not quite hunger. “No. Well- a little bit, but no, I just… I thought you maybe hadn’t had Korean food in a while, so we could, um, have some?” He breaks off, shifting uncomfortably as he holds a bowl of steamed rice in one hand and fiddles with the hem of his shirt with the other.

As you stare down at the aromatic offerings, it hits you with a belt of clarity. Just like you gave him space today, this was his olive branch to you. A way of starting off on the right food. You smile warmly. “I’d love to. That’s so sweet, Jimin. Do you need any help?”

Unfiltered relief glitters in his eyes and he shakes his head, slipping gracefully onto the floor, cross-legged. “It’s all ready,” he explains simply, “come sit.”

“It smells amazing,” you groan, stomach growling embarrassingly loud, “you must be an amazing cook to have whipped this up in that tiny kitchen.”

He glances over to the corner in question, barely a few cupboards, a refrigerator and some table top appliances. Looking back, he chuckles, lips pursed into a cheeky grin. He uses his chopsticks - the type of cheap wooden ones you’d receive at a takeout place - to point to the various dishes. “Ramen, microwave rice, Ottogi microwave soup, microwave jjajjang, and packet kimchi.”

“Ah,” you hum in understanding, reaching for the spare sleeve of chopsticks, “very traditional.”

Jimin quirks a smile, focussed below as he serves himself a helping of rice. You take the opportunity to look over him again, closer in the intimacy of your hut. The radiant daylight has given way to a burnt umber, a sunset glow like hot coals on the horizon. It casts a softness onto his face, a gentle warmth that spreads across the fullness of his cheeks and the honeyed blonde of his hair.

As he hunches over the table, his baggy white t-shirt exposes more skin than you think he realises. The short sleeves ruck up as his chopstick-bearing arms dip into various bowls across the table, revealing shallow slopes of muscle, and the hemline dangles low, bare chest hidden not by fabric but by shadow.

You mulishly redirect your attention to the steaming banquet in front of you, all the staples of your college days. “So,” you start, wishing for anything to distract you from the extremely good-looking figure across from you, “Mister Leopard Optimist, what’s first on the agenda?”

“Lepidopterist,” he corrects with an encouraging smile, and your heart swells at his pureness. “Well, first I need to get a sample group. I think I’ll spend tomorrow setting up properly and then around dusk we can go find some specimens.”

You blink in surprise. “We?”

Jimin’s warmth dissipates into pouted confusion, eyes round as he swallows the mouthful he had taken with poor timing. “You, uh- sorry, you said earlier you were interested. I shouldn’t have assumed…”

“It’s fine, you assumed correctly. We’ll be like the dream team,” you assure, wiggling your eyebrows at him playfully. “You, the leper doctorist, and me, your loyal side kick. Those butterflies will be toast. You’ll have specimens out your ears in no time!”

Even with the golden rays of sunlight, he looks paler than a ghost, choking on his own breath. “We don’t hurt the butterflies,” he corrects hastily, waving his chopsticks in alarm, “we just take note of them so we can study them over time!” He sits back, setting his chopsticks down with a dull clatter. “And it’s lepidopterist,” he adds gently, even as a concerned pout dimples his lips.

You muffle your grin with a sip of water. “Lepidopterist,” you repeat softly, if not a little cheekily. “I’m just messing with you, Jiminie. We’ll be the dream team of…studying them over time. Hm. Doesn’t have the same ring to it. I’ll come up with a cooler name for us.”

After you finish speaking, the room settles into an unanticipated silence, and you look up from your bowl. Jimin’s spluttering silently, cheeks and the tip of his nose a violent pink as he holds his eyes so wide you can see a ring of white all the way around. His mouth dangles open until he forces a swallow to close it, clearing his throat in short, self-conscious bursts.

You’re taken aback by his strong reaction. “Did I say something? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” You trail off. Offend you? Upset you? Did he think you were making fun of him?

“W-what did you call me?” he asks in a small voice, settling down his chopsticks in his empty bowl so that he can wring his fingers together.

“Um.” You have to think back, and your eyebrows lift in realisation. “Oh. Jiminie. That was too familiar, wasn’t it? We’ve only just met. I’m sorry.”

But his face is a strange mix of relief and confusion, shaking his head with enough emphasis to gently rustle the honey blonde locks of his hair. “No, Jiminie is okay. I, uh, misheard. It’s okay; don’t worry about it. Have you tried some of the stew? Here, let me…”

You let his abrupt topic change slide, accepting another serving of food, but you can’t help but linger on the thought well into the night: what did he think you were calling him?

--

Jimin doesn’t mention your late-night expedition until just before dusk, but that doesn’t mean it slips your mind.

On the contrary, you find it hard to concentrate on anything else. He leaves his bedroom door open, and every time you walk past you see him deeply focussed on set-up. Out of those three massive suitcases come electronics, fresh logbooks, blueprint papers, drawing tools, worn textbooks, and, rather confusingly, a framed photo of two chubby-faced children, grinning at each other in matching school uniforms.

You spend a concerningly long portion of your morning conspicuously hovering around the hut, sneaking glimpses of the way the pink tip of Jimin’s tongue sticks out when he focuses, or the strain of fine muscle beneath the grey striped t-shirt he donned that morning, making miniscule grunts of exertion as he wrestles out heavy tomes, stacking them with care on the shelves of the bookcase you had emptied out for him. By the time you break out of your ruling curiosity, it’s nearing midday, and you dash out of the house before Jimin breaks for lunch and wonders why you’re still here.

It’s a beautifully glittering Saturday in the Cuyabeno Reserve, which means that you’ll probably see half of the campers leaving for a day trip to Quito for shopping or activities (or decent Wi-Fi), leaving behind a steady number wanting to go on tours. You didn’t typically work Saturdays, but all the tour guides were encouraged to help out in busy times, or take initiative and offer them to any tourists awkwardly milling about. As you slip out from the shade of your hut and into the warm bath of Amazonian sunshine, you figure a tour might just be a good way to get one Park Jimin out of your head for a few hours.

The best thing about your job was the freedom. Even as you know the paid tours like the back of your hand, you’ve always been welcome to forge your own path in the rainforest, adjusting duration, location and information depending on your customers. In just fifteen minutes, you’d managed to gather a handful of couples, eight people in total. The group was primarily dominated by English speakers – several young Americans and Canadians, an elderly couple from Australia, as well as a set of parents from the UK that had left their college-age kids at home while they took an anniversary holiday. Also accompanying you were two shy young men from Spain, who seemed to understand partially what you were saying in English, but nevertheless you made sure to tack on regular translations for them just to be sure.

From the moment you set out, picking up one of the high-vis flags from reception on your way, you knew exactly what type of tour you were going to do. It had been a paid tour last year on Valentine’s Day, one of your personal favourites, because the story of it was centred around the more romantic aspects of nature; toucans and parrots in colourful pinks and reds, monkeys that curled their tails into a heart when they intertwined with another (you’d yet to see it actually happen in front of a tour group, but the fact alone was often enough to make them coo) and finally a meadow just on the edge of the river that, because of the plants and flowers that grew there, became a hotspot for about twelve different species of butterflies.

You’d been able to lose yourself in the vibrancy of nature for the past hour and a half, stopping regularly for drink breaks, chatting with the different couples on your tour. It was always special to you hearing what brought them to Cuyabeno, and you were known amongst your colleagues for always running overtime on your tours because you just loved getting to know the people on your tour, and making their adventure into the rainforest special for them.

It wasn’t until your first boot fell down onto the lush grass of the meadow that you knew you fucked up in choosing this tour route. As the eight people behind you gasp and gush about the magical bank, you freeze, your mind exploding into a silver stream of jimin jimin jimin jimin jimin ji-

“Woah, there’s so many of them!”

Stepping forward to encourage the tourists to spill into the meadow, you look around you at the flurry of motion. On one side of the group are the looming trees from whence you emerged; opposite that, the murky jade green of the river, barely lapping at the narrow bank, but glittering a sharp silver below the early afternoon sun. And in between is where the real wonder lies.

Shifting and darting, the air is alive with the vibrant array of butterflies, abundant as falling snow. The group is awash with awe as some stay perfectly still, hoping for the small creatures to land upon them, while others stir their arms gently through the air, watching the butterflies part and eddy around them like fish in a stream.

This had always been the reason the Valentine’s tour was your favourite; almost every other route took you in the opposite direction, since the other side of the island was where most of the river’s inhabitants were. So many tourists wanted to see as many animals as possible with the least amount of walking, and the tip of the island where you stood now was a long walk from camp.

You’d even come here once or twice with solo travellers, since they had more patience than a hustling group, and the magic of it never got old. Just last Christmas your boss, Angelo, had gifted you tinkling windchimes for your hut; instead, you had taken them down here.

There wasn’t much of a breeze now, so the delicate notes of glass and ceramics were quiet in the background, but they added to the feel of peace and serenity that you could tell all of the tourists were feeling, no matter their age. The Northern Americans had formed a group, pointing out the different species and trying to count them off on their fingers. The elderly couple had a surprisingly modern Android phone out, using the man’s longer arms to take an extremely high-angled selfie. Closer to the lazy shallows of the river, one of the Spanish boys had picked a pale purple flower from the grass to offer to the other.

Surrounded by love and butterflies, you’d quite literally led yourself back to the thoughts of the one you had tried to distract yourself from.

Jimin. Jiminie.

You’re approached by the middle-aged parents, suggesting here might be a good place to break for snacks and a drink, and so you acquiesce, sinking down onto the pillowy grass of the meadow and wondering which of the graceful wings that danced in the sky belonged to a longwing erato.

--

You manage to spend the rest of your day on tours, making sure to go on those well-worn tracks far from the butterfly meadow, and by the time you turn in your reflective orange flag for the day, Jimin’s waiting on the porch with a backpack, a chunky flashlight, and a pair of binoculars dangling from a cord around his neck.

“Where were you?” he questions instead of a greeting, fiddling with the hem of his beige shorts.

You tilt your head in confusion, staring down at him. It occurs to you that he’s in your spot, the place you sat with your steaming mug every morning. In fact, as you stand over him, it’s like your roles are reversed from the first time you met. “I was working,” you reply simply.

“Oh.” He deflates a little, eyes staring past you at the now-silent campsite, all the lodgers having since returned to their huts for curfew. Only employees were allowed to be out after sunset most nights. The one exception was the occasional night-time tour, but given the additional risks involved, your boss jacked the price right up and there weren’t many takers. Jimin must’ve spoken with your boss to be allowed to roam around at night. He focuses back in on you, and perks up. “Are you ready, then?”

“To go butterfly hunting? Always.”

Rather than leading you to the meadow, Jimin consults an extremely detailed (and scribbled-on) map, forging into the forest along the centre of the island, instead of out either side towards the river. You follow along, marvelling at the new territory that even you haven’t really explored.

The two of you move in concentrated silence, Jimin methodically tying little cornflower blue ribbons to branches along the way. At one point, you slow to a stop, crouching as you make out two red flashes. Upon closer inspection, you recognise the lime-green body to belong to the red-eyed tree frog making its way down the wide trunk of a tree, clearly spooked by the light from Jimin’s flashlight.

You sigh in relief as it tucks itself away safely. Frogs, specifically tree frogs, were a good indicator for the type of habitat you were entering. The fact that it was a non-toxic species meant hopefully your companion wasn’t leading you into a pit of venomous and poisonous creatures. The island was pretty safe, for the most part, but you still had to exercise due caution, and it seemed Jimin was so focussed on his butterflies that he’d forgotten they weren’t the only ones in here.

A hushed whisper of your name and the returning of bright light is your only warning before an impatient hand slips into yours, tugging you up and deeper into the rainforest.

You’re too stunned to protest, simply letting Jimin lead you into the untamed wilderness. His palm is warm in yours, fingers interlocked. His hands are smaller than you expected, and even as he holds on tightly, so gentle. You can’t help but feel the care that emanates from him down to the smallest detail.

As the active hum of the rainforest’s creatures and the rustle of leaves and bushes surrounds you, you barely notice the slight incline of the ground beneath you, the only indicator being that over time your calves begin to ache slightly.

Every time you open your mouth to ask how far, or if you could take a break, you’re stopped by a soft squeeze to your hand. Even though he’s in front of you, looking ahead rather than back at you, he seems to know just when to reassure you.

The walk isn’t particularly challenging, nor is it too hot, but you find yourself short of breath anyway.

When the two of you finally come to a stop, he lets your hand go. The loss of pressure around your hand gives you a weird pang of disappointment, and you tuck your arms around yourself to make up for it.

“Do you know what the longwing erato looks like?” he asks in an excited whisper.

You shrug. “Long wings?”

His eyes crinkle before his smile joins them. “I mean, yes; they’re more of a stretched-out oval compared to the roughly squarish shapes that most butterflies have. They’re black, with one or more red stripes on each wing. Here; hold the flashlight and I’ll find some.”

He passes off his equipment to you and directs the beam of the flashlight to the lowest branches of the trees in front of you, still well above eye-level. Although you do your best to keep the light steady, you find yourself glancing over to Jimin, his mouth dangling unconsciously open as he puts all his focus into staring down the pair of binoculars he brought. His warm blonde hair has been pushed off his face with a stretchy fabric headband, exposing the smooth skin of his forehead and the furrowed arches of his brows, slightly darker than the rest of his hair.

“On the trees,” he mumbles, with a minute jerk of his elbow as a gesture.

You startle, correcting the slant of the torch beam that had slipped astray as you watched him. This time, you focus on the yellow moon of light that splays across the trunks of the trees instead of your companion. Flitting around, casting narrow shadows across the artificial rays, are various bugs and moths, the latter of which gradually migrate closer to you, seeking the source of the light. “Have you found them?” you question, upper arm starting to ache from being held up so long.

Jimin hums, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he lowers the binoculars, pointing high up into the branches. “There,” he declares quietly with an excited grin, “on the right side, they’re all up against the bark.”

You squint, trying to search for the red stripes, but you can’t find anything. “That middle tree?”

“Here,” letting the binoculars fall back around his torso, he steps up beside you, reaching across to lift the flashlight higher. “Just past that skinny branch there.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating through his thin shirt. Close enough for you to hear the resonance of his focussed breath. Though he’s holding the flashlight, your fingers overlap slightly and you can feel the pressure of his thumb on your knuckles and his fingertips touching the side of your hand. “I-” you break off to swallow past the dryness in your throat, “I still don’t see them.”

Jimin lets out a laugh, barely more than breath. He tilts his head closer, so that your temples almost touch. Feeling the soft locks of his hair on your skin, your eyes widen and you suck in a breath unconsciously. With a hand on the flashlight still, he has to wrap the other around your shoulders, pointing in your line of sight. “Just focus,” he instructs gently. “Right side of the middle tree, see that tree frog? The brown one?”

You make a noise of agreement once you locate the slowly moving creature, higher up than you had been looking. “I see it.”

“Good.” Jimin’s warm tone of approval sends something rushing through you. In the moment of quiet, you become aware of the minute movement of Jimin’s thumb, rubbing against your knuckles. Your fingers tense on the metal of the flashlight, but Jimin doesn’t seem to notice, simply bring his other hand up higher, pointing further up the trunk. “They’re up here, see? Follow the tree up until you see the black patch. It looks like it’s moving. Can you see it?”

Your eyes widen. “I see it,” you breathe.

You feel rather than see the smile that puffs up his cheeks. “That’s them,” he says warmly, voice echoing in your air, quiet enough that it’s just for you. “Longwing erato. Must be at least fifty of them, all gathered up. You can even see some of the stripes when they shift around. Lift up your flashlight a bit, it won’t bother them, don’t worry.”

The two of you stay there, Jimin’s arms on either side of you, for an unreadable amount of time. With nothing but the warmth of his body and the vague drone of the various bugs and nocturnal critters to join you, it could be moments or it could be half an hour.

Either way, there reaches a point where a breeze in the air sends a shiver down your spine, and you think it might be time to go. Turning towards Jimin to let him know, you’re caught off-guard when he turns at the same time.

Your noses brush, and then you feel the silken touch of his lips on yours. Eye-to-eye, you stare at each other for a second that feels like eternity, before you finally come to your senses and jump back, inadvertently leaving him with the flashlight as you tear your hand away from his.

“I- Uh- Sorry, I-” Jimin seems unable to do anything but stammer, in a normal voice that seems harshly loud after the hush you’d been in.

“It’s okay,” you reply back, but your voice falls flat, just as unconvincing to you as it must be to him. “It was just an accident. Just a mistake.”

Cast in shadow as the beam of the flashlight points downwards, you can still see clear as day how his whole face changes at that, flinching like he’s been hit. Stumbling around with a stricken expression, he glances once at the flashlight in his hand, darts his eyes to you before looking over to the direction of forest you’d come from and finally back to the flashlight.

Your blood runs iron cold with dread. “Jiminie, don’t-”

Like something snaps, Jimin hesitates no longer, turning and dashing into the trees. You start after him for a few jogged steps, watching the frenzied beam shoot through the rainforest like a laser, getting smaller and smaller as the noise of his exit slowly fades away, leaving you marooned in a black ocean.

--

Those pastel pink ribbons are your saviours that night. It’s hard to pick them out when the shadows penetrate the rainforest so deeply. You squint before every step to watch out for animals or other living inhabitants that might be dangerous, and it’s probably nothing more than sheer luck that you manage to peek the slips of fabric on the branches regularly enough to lead you back to camp.

On the grounds themselves, you see lights on, not just the safety ones that illuminate the way to the toilets and kitchens, but also the warmer yellow tones that you recognise to be emanating from your hut itself. Jimin.

Even as you feel a tugging in your heart to go, you also find yourself unable to step closer. Jimin left you. He wouldn’t want you to approach him. Either you’d disgusted him or offended him or both, enough so that he literally ran from you, and the last thing you could handle right now was confrontation.

Instead, you inch around the outskirts, finding a familiar beaten path that leads to one of your favourite places on the island: an old, relatively abandoned lookout tower.

Tourists weren’t taken to this one, anymore, and all of your colleagues kept away too. A few months before you had begun working, they’d opened a new, sleeker, taller, safer lookout to compensate for the higher numbers of tourists they were getting. Sure, that one was great, and with a top made primarily of glass, it gave a gorgeous view.

But there was something… different about the older one that kept drawing you back. Perhaps it was the rustic feel; all dark woods, concrete and metal, fitted to one of the taller trunks for stability. It blended into the landscape. Over the years, as the trees had grown a bit taller, it no longer rose clean above the topiary, but nestled between branches, right in the midst of the foliage. It was a view you couldn’t get from above or below, and as you curl into the corner, back pressed against the ancient tree, you felt your blood pressure gradually decrease.

Unlike most places, you could be truly alone here. But never lonely. Quietly, you tuck your knees to your chest and watch as a margay cat slinks down a branch of a nearby tree, eyes glinting in the moonlight. This dense inside the topiary, it’s hard to make out much detail, but you can see the black leopard-like patches on its tan fur, the whiskers twitching as it sniffs your presence.

Shoulders hunched like it’s anticipating a loud noise, the wildcat appraises you, carefully winding around the trunk of a nearby tree to provide cover. Cute as it is, you wait until it leaps onto a further branch and disappears into the shadows before you lie down on your side and close your eyes.

--

Getting back to the camp takes a sizeable portion of your morning. Although the foliage had provided sufficient insulation, the nailed planks of the lookout turret were unforgiving, and you wake up the next morning with an unignorable twinge where your left shoulder meets your neck. Getting down the tight coiled staircase takes long enough; finding your way back to base while being unable to properly turn your head to look around you feels like an eternity.

It’s just as the ground below your feet evens out into well-trodden grass and you gingerly roll your shoulder for the nth time that you glance up to see the chaos that lies in front of you.

Countless tourists stand around, confused and gossiping, littered across the campground as your fellow employees rush and dart between them. Some of them are on bulky radio phones or walkie talkies, others packing what looks like expedition equipment.

But they only attract your attention for a moment. Like you’re magnetized, your eyes are immediately drawn to the two figures outside your hut. Standing with deep lines of concern on his tanned face is your boss, Angelo. Sat on the veranda beside him, wrapped in a blanket despite the early morning heat, is Jimin.

They haven’t seen you yet, no one has, and so you allow yourself a moment to silently observe them. Well. Observe him.

Jimin’s got his fists bundled up under his chin, pressing up his cheeks, yet he’s never looked more gaunt. His eyes are sunken and desolate, even as they glitter from deep wells of tears that redden his nose and soak patches in the blanket. Angelo’s hand is on his shoulder, offering him a tissue, muttering something, but Jimin simply stares ahead blankly, bottom lip trembling.

Jimin…

His head jerks up, eyes seeking you out, and you realize belatedly that you’d said his name aloud. But it doesn’t matter, because just the unfiltered relief on his face is enough to trigger your feet to move again, walking numbly towards him as your boss leaves him sitting there, rushing forward to greet you.

“Fucking hell, Y/n, you better have a damn good reason for terrifying the entire Lodge,” his rough colloquial Spanish rings out in a fevered hush, “we were just about to send search parties.”

You stand in shocked silence as he unhooks a walkie talkie from his waistband, quite literally calling off the horde of Cuyabeno employees gathering on the campsite. They, upon receiving the notice, glance over to you, showing varying degrees of relief and annoyance, and herd the guests back to their cabins.

“He’s been inconsolable all night, you know?”

Angelo’s voice whips your attention back, and you furrow your brows. “Huh?”

“Park Jimin,” your boss emphasizes with a scolding tone. “Bawling his eyes out, waking us all up at ass o’clock in the morning. Got half the team convinced you’d been eaten by a jaguar or something. Poor guy feels so guilty.”

“I was fine,” you defend, glancing past him at the sitting figure of the man in question, who looks so tiny perched on the edge of the veranda, red face poking out from the blanket.

“Well, how the fuck were we supposed to know that?”

Something snaps inside you, too wired up to hear the concern and relief that hides below Angelo’s façade of anger. You look away from Jimin, but stick a finger out to point at him while you glare at your boss. “He was the one that left me stranded! He was the one that ran away with the only flashlight we brought. He was the reason I spent the night sleeping in the rainforest. You tell me he’s feeling guilty? Well, he fucking should be.”

Behind Angelo, you see Jimin visibly flinch, stiffening and ducking his head so as to appear smaller. Though you had spoken in Spanish, your pointing and tone had probably left nothing to the imagination, and you lower your hand now, feeling a spike of regret.

The older Ecuadorian man just sighs, the fight leaving his body. “You could just talk, you know,” he offers up tiredly, “sort it out. Don’t let it fester. Maybe he just freaked out, saw a scary bug or something. You know how these city folk can get.” He purses his lips in consideration. “Then again, he is a bug scientist.”

“Lepidopterist,” you correct absentmindedly, eyes cast downward. “…I’m gonna go home, Angelo. Get ready for work. Sorry for worrying you,” you add, genuinely this time.

He lets you go without words, instead wrapping you into a fierce hug that lasts just long enough for your bones to begin to melt, anger slipping away.

With tired feet and a heavy heart, you make your way to the entrance of your hut, pausing in front of Jimin. Rather than jumping to greet you or apologise, he simply watches you balefully, eyes glossy with misery. You feel yourself break a little at the hurt in his gaze.

“I wanted to give you space,” you explain weakly. “I found a place to stay for the night. I didn’t think you’d worry so much.”

Jimin doesn’t reply, just sniffs and swallows and nods a little bit.

You let out a breathy noise, not quite light enough to be a laugh. “So… What time are we going butterfly-watching next?”

Brows furrowed strangely, he stays silent for so long you almost give up and walk past him. Eventually, though, his fists go lax and the thin blanket drops from around his shoulders, falling to the floor. He’s still in the t-shirt and shorts from last night. Somehow, this fact makes your eyes sting. “I think I’m just going to do it by myself from now on. Give you…space.”

For a moment, his lips wobble slightly, like he’s got something more to say, but then he just exhales with an air of finality, and focuses his gaze past you, to the distance.

Leaving him alone on the porch step hurts, but there’s nothing else for you to do.

--

In his defence, Jimin does exactly as he promises.

He gives you space.

Were it not for the closed door in the hallway and the weight in your heart, you could almost forget he was even there. Jimin doesn’t eat with you, instead sneaking out to take advantage of the thrice-daily buffets offered to guests. By the time you wake up in the morning and drink your ritual tea on the front porch, he’s come and gone. Occasionally you can hear him working, but not most days. In the evenings, you hear him pack his things and leave. You’re asleep before he returns.

You continue to go on tours, sticking to the ones far away from the butterfly meadow, but you can’t avoid butterflies themselves. They are, as Jimin pointed out earlier, abundant in this area, but you swear you didn’t notice them as much until these past few days. They flit around, drawing gasps and coos and camera clicks from your tour groups but leaving you with an uncomfortable twinge in your chest.

It’s an entire three weeks before you discover why he ran that fateful night.

Bad weather cancels a day of tours for you, and late into the morning you hear murmuring coming from Jimin’s room. You know you shouldn’t eavesdrop, but you can’t help the yearning you feel. The moment you consider tiptoeing up and pressing your ear to the door, it’s like your mind is made.

His voice is softer, sweeter, more playful than you’d ever heard directed at you, even before the strange falling-out. “…pretty, aren’t you? I know, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. Hm? Minnie’s here.”

Your stomach turns, and you rush away as quickly and silently as you came.

Of course. Of course a guy like him had a girlfriend. It’s not like he was obliged to tell you, and you shouldn’t have assumed he was single. Poor guy probably felt grossed out, probably thought you’d intentionally made a move. No wonder he freaked when you called him Jiminie too, if Minnie was her pet name for him or something.

It’s a relief when the next morning breaks out in sunshine. You don’t fancy being in that house longer than is strictly necessary.

--

“Can we talk?”

Jimin jumps when he opens the door to you waiting, blinking in shock. “I have to get going…” He’s somehow even paler than when he first came, probably from only ever leaving the house at night-time, and though his eyes are bright, they’re sunken.

You don’t move when he puts his head down and makes an attempt to step forward again. “Please, Jimin. I owe you an apology. Besides; there’s no reason for us to hide from each other and be miserable. Let’s just talk.”

He scratches at his collarbone past the neck of his t-shirt, which protrudes more than you swear it had when he arrived. “Yeah, okay. Come in, I guess.”

He raises a tired eyebrow at your sigh of unfiltered relief, simply ducking back into the safety of his room, hopping onto the single bed cross-legged.

You follow after. “Look, that night got out of hand, but I think I get now why you…” You trail off once you step fully into the room, mouth hanging open.

It’s messy like when he moved in, an organized and dedicated chaos, but there’s one key difference. Amongst the open textbooks, scribbled notes, and strewn stationery on his desk, one large object catches your eye.

An entire branch, dangling from rope taped to the ceiling. You couldn’t recognize the tree just by that alone, but after taking in the lush leaves and forked twigs, something inside you thinks it’s probably from that same tree, or at least the same type, that the longwing erato butterflies were on that night.

Of course, you wouldn’t need the branch itself to tell you that. What makes it clear as day is the ten-plus butterflies that flutter around the room, resting periodically on the branch itself.

Jimin ducks his neck, rubbing at his chest in self-comfort. “You wanted to talk?” he questions innocently.

You don’t let the joyous spike in your heart at him speaking to you distract from what’s in front of you. “I said no bugs in the house. Are you serious?”

“They’re not bugs,” he whines defensively. You stare in open-mouthed bewilderment as one, smaller than the rest but with thicker red bands on its wings, lands on the top of one of his pointer fingers, settling after a few moments. Jimin’s eyes warm, a smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t want to bother you by coming and going all the time, so I just got them to come to me… I can take better care of them this way.”

With a conflicted frown, you push down your divided emotions on this statement in the hopes of pushing forth. “Anyway, I wanted to say that I get now why you freaked out. I overheard you talking with your girlfriend the other day and-” You blink, cutting yourself off. The words you’d heard muffled behind his bedroom door I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. “You… Do you have a girlfriend, Jimin? Or a boyfriend?”

Jimin’s so startled it disrupts the butterfly from its perch, but he barely notices, eyes comically wide in shock. “Wh- y- Are you propositioning me?”

You splutter, realizing belatedly how poorly your statement was phrased. “No, I, sorry, I just wanted to ask because I thought I overheard you one day talking to someone on the phone. And I thought perhaps that was the reason you took off that night, because you thought I was making moves on you when you were taken.” His expression is unreadable, eyes glazed in what might be contemplation or might be annoyance, but you forge on with a deep breath. “So, whether you have a partner or not, I wanted to apologize, because that night was an accident. I wasn’t like, trying to make out with you on a butterfly hunt. That’s… yeah, that’s all I wanted to say.” His eyes drop from you wordlessly, and your heart stutters in concern. “You can say something now. Please.”

His shoulders fall slack; you hadn’t noticed how tense he was. “Y/n…” He gives a bittersweet sigh, lip tugging into a reluctant smile. “Well, first of all, it was not a butterfly hunt. Secondly… I haven’t been fair to you. I should apologize too. Could you sit?”

He shuffles sideways on the bed, patting the rumpled sheets beside him. You hop on, and it’s not until an awkward silence threatens to descend that he finally speaks up again.

“Listen, I wanna be clear. I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend or anything. I wasn’t talking on the phone that day. I’m sorry for running when we went out that night, I really am. And it wasn’t because of you that I freaked- well, it was because of you, but not in a bad way.” He lets out a pained breath, staring doggedly ahead at the smattering of butterflies roaming the hanging branch. Even as he avoids your gaze, he subtly turns his torso inwards towards you, the shyest olive branch. “The truth is, I freaked because I really like you. And I… This is gonna make me sound like an asshole, but I didn’t want to let myself get distracted. I have to put this research first. I figured if I just avoided you, I’d get over it, but-” He waves his hand in the air helplessly. “That hasn’t been working out so well,” he admits in a defeated voice. With a final sigh, he falls silent.

You stay quiet for a few more moments, letting his words process in your mind. He actually liked you? The discomforting tug in your chest eases as the thought, the ache of your heart soothing into a warm thrum. But he had to put his work first. Of course. “I get it,” you say finally.

Jimin perks up, finally looking over at you with vulnerable eyes. “You…do?”

You crack a light smile at his stammering of such a short sentence, but then a wider beam takes over. Even if he wanted to never even touch you for fear of getting ‘distracted’, this was enough. Just seeing his face, hearing the notes of his voice, his expression light up in hope; if nothing else, this was enough. “Yeah,” you reiterate with crinkled eyes, “I mean, let’s look at this rationally. You’ve been studying in uni for how long? Paying fees, buying textbooks, studying hard. And now you’re doing a thesis, which you had to uproot your life and fly out to another country for. I bet that was expensive, too. And on top of all that, it’s clear how much it all means to you. You just met me because I happened to be staying in the hut you’d booked. I don’t wanna get in your way, Jimin. This work makes you happy.”

“You-” Jimin cuts himself off, clearing his throat noisily, shaking his head at himself cutely. “Um, I really appreciate that. Now I feel silly I didn’t just tell you that three weeks ago. You know how hard it’s been sneaking showers at the crack of dawn? Those campsite bathrooms don’t even have mirrors. I’ve become an expert at shaving by memory.” He sends you a small smile then, small but genuine, and on his lap his fingers stretch out shyly, before falling back into a loose fist.

Not wanting to disrupt the cheery mood, you reach over to shove at his shoulder playfully. “Well then, how about instead of distracting you, I help you? I’ll be your official sidekick. Or assistant, whatever it’s called.”

“Is that so?” Jimin retorts with glimmering eyes. Like it’s sensed the warm ambience returning to the two of you, a lone butterfly has flown over, settling itself between waves of honey blonde, off-center so that Jimin has to strain his eyes over to make it out. “Hey, Molly,” he mumbles so softly his lips barely move, but, right beside him, you hear it.

“You name them?” you question in confusion, but he doesn’t get the chance to answer before it hits you. “Oh my god. You were talking to the butterflies, weren’t you?”

Jimin stiffens up defensively, but takes care to do it slowly enough that the black-and-red butterfly in his hair, Molly apparently, doesn’t get disturbed. “Makes things grow better,” he mutters through a pout, cheeks glowing an embarrassed pink. “And they have personalities too, you know? Just like dogs or cats.”

You observe the way he leans back away from you, braced like he’s expecting backlash or humiliation. Instead, you nod slowly. “So, what’s Molly’s personality?”

He goes stock still in surprise. “Molly?” After you nod again, he relaxes slowly, fiddling with his hands in his lap even as his face warms. “Molly’s a sweetheart,” he reveals tentatively. “She likes keeping me company more than the others, and when I need to take notes on her wing growth she sits so nicely.”

Your eyes widen in wonder. “Woah, that’s incredible,” you breathe.

He tilts his head to the side. Molly settles herself in deeper, batting her wings a couple times but staying there. It makes you quirk a smile even as Jimin sends you a look of confusion. “What’s incredible?”

“Jimin, these are wild creatures,” you elaborate, “I don’t think we’ve had any researchers stay here before, certainly none specifically for them, and you’ve only been here three weeks yet already they trust you. Do you have any idea how amazing that is?” Do you have any idea how amazing you are? You bite your tongue to stop the words.

He gives his head the smallest shake, wary of the resting butterfly on his head. “All I did was talk to them. Be gentle with them. Look-”

You gasp when suddenly warmth envelops your palm, Jimin softly interlocking your fingers. He stands slowly, then tugs at your hand for you to follow. You do so in an almost religious silence, the hush that speaks louder than words. His fingers, although short, fit with yours perfectly, and as the two of you make your way to the hanging branch he squeezes gently in reassurance.

Licking his lips to wet them, he turns you and holds your connected hands in the air. “If you’re calm and quiet, they’ll trust you too.”

Barely breathing, you nod and stare wide-eyed as he gradually moves your hands closer to the branch. Once the back of your knuckles brush a leaf, he pauses there. “Lift one finger up in the air,” he instructs softly, “like a landing post.” You do as he asks and wait for approval, but his eyes aren’t on you. Rather, they focus on the three butterflies that huddle on a nearby leaf, one of which looks all but asleep to you. “There’s Yoyomi, Kong, and Mickey,” he utters. “Kong is a drama queen, he acts like he hates affection, that’s why he’s gone so still, but one of the others might come over.”

The two of you wait with baited breath and clasped hands as the smaller one of the three alights, fluttering around before delicately landing on the pad of your finger. Your heart stops with the lightest pressure of its legs on your skin, barely more than a tickle.

“See?” Jimin whispers, eyes glittering. “That’s little Yoyomi. Say hi.”

Your finger threatens to falter. You feel stupid talking to a bug, but hasn’t Jimin proved that it’s making a difference? And besides, you can’t let him down after he’s chosen to be so vulnerable with you. You can’t say no to him. “Um. Hi, Yoyomi. You’re very beautiful.” With the warmth of Jimin’s hand on yours, you’re certain he can feel the way your pulse throbs in your wrist, heart racing as Yoyomi’s wings, red at the tip instead of down the middle, give a welcoming flutter.

“Very beautiful,” you hear Jimin repeat in the softest tone.

Your gaze lifts to him, where, instead of looking down at Yoyomi, his eyes are on you. You swallow the euphoria that rises in your chest. “I… I hope you’re not getting distracted,” you say awkwardly.

His lip twitches down. “Sorry.” He lets go of your hand suddenly, giving Yoyomi a fright and sending her off, landing back on the branch with Kong and Mickey. You lower your own arm, feeling the tip of your finger tingle strangely, missing that delicate weight. Missing his touch even more. “I’ll be good. I’ll focus on them.”

You smile reassuringly, past the regret that builds deep in your stomach. “We can have a clean slate, yeah? Like a butterfly kicks off its cocoon, we can get rid of the negative energy and go back to being friends. A fresh start.”

The tension leaves Jimin’s face, replaced by pursed lips as he suppresses a reluctant smile. “You really know nothing about butterflies, don’t you?”

You back up closer to the door, resting your head playfully on the doorframe. “I have a very neglectful teacher.”

He lets out a laugh then, tinkling and giggly, and you feel your heart soar. “Oh, is that so? Well, our first lesson is 9am sharp. And I will be taking attendance,” he adds with faux sternness.

You nod, playing along, feeling so light you could float. “I’ll be there.”

--

“Mm, I’d say 38 millimeters. No; put down 37 and a half.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you cheer, carefully noting down the measurements.

Jimin tuts, eyes remaining trained on the gently batting wings of Una, another one of the older butterflies. “I said not to call me that. Okay, and it looks like the stripe is the same as last week. Have you got it?”

You bite down on the inside of your lip. “I do, master.”

Jimin splutters. “Stop,” he whines petulantly, “look, you made me give Una a fright. Una, it’s okay, don’t g-” He breaks off with a sigh. “It’ll take ages for her to work up the courage to come back over now… Stop teasing me. We’ll have to move on to Molly for now, okay?” He glances up at you warningly, pink lips still pressed in a pout.

You force your eyes not to linger, instead lifting your chin in a decisive nod. “Yes, chef.”

This time you’re rewarded with a full beam, Jimin’s eyes crinkling so much they just about shut completely, delicate hands pressing down on his cheeks in an effort to suppress. “Stop it! You’re making fun of me!”

“Well, who else can I make fun of?” you point out innocently. “When I called Kong an old man you made me sleep on the couch.”

Jimin’s mouth falls to a small o of shock. “That was a joke. You were the one that actually did it.”

Shrugging non-committedly, you doodle squiggles in the margins of Jimin’s notebook. “I take my job very seriously,” you defend, raising your eyebrows. “Which, speaking of, I wanted to ask. Are you free tonight?”

Jimin blinks, ducking his head back like he’s got whiplash. “Are you asking me out on a date?” he questions incredulously.

You put the book down, locking eyes with him. “I’m asking you out on an expedition,” you correct.

“Do I get to know where this expedition is going?”

“Absolutely not.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second, brown eyes warm. “Deal.”

--

“That doesn’t look safe,” Jimin frowns, tugging at the hem of his light cotton shirt as he eyes the looming contraption.

“But you promised,” you retort, already with a foot on the base. You’d taken him to one of your favorite places on the island, your lookout tower. Of course, the last time you were here hadn’t been so fun, but as the sun sinks lower in the sky, you know it’s time to rewrite some better memories.

“I never agreed to this,” he retorts. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you grab onto his forearm, tugging him up with you. Luckily, the stability of the tower, at least down on ground level, seems to suffice for him, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

“You promised to expe…dish with me,” you stammer.

“Expedish?”

“You know, go on an expedition? Expedite? Ex- Expedo-”

“Okay,” he cuts you off, stepping up onto the first stair that led upwards. “I’ll do it. Just stop making up words.”

You follow behind him dutifully, willing your eyes not to fall down to where his shorts stretch taut over his ass and thighs, calves flexing with every step higher. You attempt to distract yourself, simultaneously cursing and praising the fact you didn’t go in front of him. “I could say real words instead,” you offer helpfully, “like…barbecue. Lawnmower. Effervescence.”

Jimin gasps softly, in a playfully high tone. “Baby’s first words!”

You frown pettily, stomping your feet down on the steps so he can hear your dissatisfaction, but you can’t deny the way your breath hitches when he calls you baby. Dammit. “Just climb,” you mutter bitterly, quietly reveling in the triumphant peal of his laughter.

When the two of you reach the top, he’s panting, and you have to admit that you’re short of breath too. His eyes widen prettily as he takes in the view, holding onto the wooden slats around the border of the lookout to keep him stable as he rises onto his tiptoes.

Last time, the sun was well and truly set, but now the leaves are glowing in molten golds and oranges, the sky a pastel blanket over the island. The topiary is awash with activity, that unique window where nocturnal creatures stir and the rest settle.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes, and you’re inclined to agree, but it can’t match the beauty you see in him.

Straining to catch every last inch in sight, his body is stretched into a graceful curved line, enough that his shirt lifts to reveal a narrow strip of skin above his waistband. Much paler than the bronze caramel of his face and hands, it reminds you just how much sun he’s been getting these past few weeks now that he isn’t hiding himself away.

He looks much healthier, too, with the softness of his cheeks returned to full blush and eyes twinkling with wonder as he watches birds coast along the horizon line, monkeys navigate the trees with ease, and a few margay cats just like the ones you yourself had caught prowling that past night. He looks happy, and something warm unfurls in your chest at the thought that you’ve contributed to that joy.

You don’t process his eyes on you until he cracks a shy smile, raising a delicate brow. “Thinking hard or hardly thinking?” he teases softly.

“Just thinking,” you murmur, unwilling to part your gaze with him just yet. He doesn’t seem satisfied, tilting his head with imploring eyes. You relent, unable to deny him. “Cada vez que yo te veo y que te pienso siento que florezco.”

Jimin pouts cutely, falling back flat on his feet to stare you down fully. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It means you should learn Spanish,” you retort, ignoring the thudding beneath your ribs. “You do live in Ecuador, after all.”

“Only if you teach me,” he jokes lightly with a playful tip of his head. He takes a step closer, then, and his face changes, sobers up. “Thank you, Y/n. For taking me here, I mean.”

With the cramped space of the lookout, he’s now close enough that you can see each individual eyelash that curve delicately, the finest smile lines on his cheeks, the thinnest sheen of sweat on his temples. He’s close enough that you could easily reach out and k- “You’re welcome,” you blurt out, inhaling deep through your nose in the hopes of clearing your head. Instead, you just breathe in the delicate smell of orange blossoms that you’re beginning to associate with Jimin, perhaps something in his body wash or shampoo. Your eyes flutter around, unsure where is safe to land. His eyes, which bore so intensely into yours. Or his lips, which are pinker and plusher than usual as he nibbles softly at them. You stare stubbornly instead at the tip of his button nose, fingers curling at your sides with the effort to keep them to yourself

“It’s hard for you too, isn’t it?” he questions in the smallest voice, barely more than a velvet whisper.

Your eyes lift to him unsurely. “W-what? What’s hard for me too?”

His hand begins to lift up in the air in front of you, before it falters, and ultimately settles awkwardly on the railing. “Holding back,” he finally admits. “Not getting…distracted.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Distantly, you wonder what exactly he was reaching out to. “Impossible.”

Jimin’s head dips, eyes falling to the dusty wooden floor below you. “I’m sorry.”

A dissatisfied shiver runs down your spine. “I- you don’t have to apologise.”

He looks stricken. “No, I do, I just- I’m working it out. I’m thinking it through. I’m sorry.”

You fight your disappointed, struggling to maintain the cool composure of rationality that holds your tears at bay. “I understand,” you reassure, “this research is what means the most to you. You have to put it first.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know if it’s-” He shudders then, a full-body tremble that’s only masked somewhat by the sudden step back he takes, almost tripping on an uneven plank. “I have to go,” he rushes out, one foot on the steps leading down before he freezes, forces himself to turn back to face you. “Are you… Are you ready to go? We can walk back together. If you want.”

You feel your knees go weak as you nod, biting on your bottom lip harshly to keep face. “I’m ready to go back if you are. I’m sorry, I thought taking you up here would be nice…”

His earnest look takes you off-guard. “I am so grateful, Y/n, it’s so beautiful up here. Thank you.”

A strange, detached feeling washes over you, like defeat, only softer. “You’re welcome,” you say again, though this time you don’t know if you mean it.

--

You let it go, for a while. Jimin’s happy, and that’s enough for you.

Slowly, you were getting better at recognising each of the regular visitors by the slightly different patches on their wings, or even simply how they behaved. It was a strange thing to get to know them like you would with a pet, realising they really did have unique personalities. And over time, you opened the rest of the doors of the hut, too, until it became commonplace to wake up from a flutter on your cheek, or to check for any resting butterflies on the couch before you sat down. It brought a sense of life to your abode that, in full honesty, you’d probably never truly felt before. But of course most of that led right back to Jimin.

Jimin, who no longer held himself back from chatting away softly to the butterflies like they were his friends. Jimin, who patiently explained the life cycle of the longwing erato for the nth time when you still got lost. Jimin, who did his best to stay professional but couldn’t hold back his warm smiles, gentle touches, and reassuring words. Jimin, who was overflowing with so much love for everything that you felt it grow within you too.

“Y/n?”

Jimin’s alarmed voice catches you off-guard from where you’d zoned out in the kitchen, milk warming to room temperature on the bench as you’d gotten too distracted to pour it into the bowl of waiting cereal. Cursing, you shove it back in the fridge and abandon your breakfast to rush down to the study.

He’s hunched over his desk, unaware of Molly nestled on his shoulder, as he focuses intensely on what’s in front of him.

“What’s going on?” you question, not wanting to approach the desk so suddenly just in case you startle him or whoever has his attention.

“Baby got his wing torn again. I think he’s been going to that patch of rosebushes behind the kitchen.”

You gasp, risking a couple steps forward silently. Your chest is taut with anxiety as you watch Jimin gently pin Baby onto a towel with an oval metal loop that keeps his wings still while allowing his small black body to move. He wriggles in the eye of the loop, but settles as a single pinkie finger strokes his wings with the lightest pressure. Baby, as his name suggests, is the youngest of your little ragtag bunch at only 8 days old. Jimin wasn’t sure, but he believed Molly might be the mother. Most of the females laid a few eggs every day, but only a few over the month and a half had actually chosen to come into the house. Baby, however, had shadowed Molly from the moment he’d first flown in.

“That’s the second time,” you murmur, rubbing at your shoulder in concern. “Will he be okay?”

Jimin hums, lips barely moving when he speaks in a soft register. “It’s a bigger tear than last time but it should be an easy fix. I just hope he learns this time. Can you get me the repair kit?”

You do as he says quickly but calmly so as not to disturb anyone. “Here. Do you need anything else?”

He doesn’t answer for a while, gnawing at his lip as he takes some contact adhesive and a small wooden dowel. “Um, no, but… Could you just stay?”

Your heart jumps in your chest; you curse that jolt of euphoria in a time like this. “Of course I can, Jiminie,” you reassure, pulling up a stool beside him and giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Later on, after Baby’s made a full recovery and Jimin has given him an extremely gentle scolding, the two of you decide to have a night in. Jimin exhausts the last of his Korean microwave meal supplies, you crack out a couple of old bottles of red wine you’d gotten for Christmas two years ago, and the two of you curl up on the couch in your pyjamas, talking about everything and nothing.

It’s shortly after midnight, once Jimin has long since jiggled the final drops of wine from the second bottle into his waiting mouth, and you’re feeling sleepy from carbs, that you ask him why he likes butterflies so much. For some reason, the thought had never really occurred to you in these past weeks.

“I mean,” you continue, voice loudened by the weak buzz of alcohol, “I get now that butterflies are super cool. But like, what made you even pay attention to them in the first place? It’s such a specific career.”

Jimin, who had significantly more of the wine than you, pats his own red cheeks in thought, smiling absentmindedly to push them out rounder. His eyes glaze over, but with how well he held his liquor, you think the faraway look is due to something else. “It’s silly,” he brushes off, tapping his pinkie fingers on the apples of his cheeks.

“Come on,” you whine, tipping your head to the side and widening your eyes pleadingly. “I bet it is just as cute as everything else about you.” Your brain screeches to a halt. Did you really just say that? Clearing your throat awkwardly, you reach for a half-empty glass of water, maybe his or maybe yours, and take a sip, willing your cheeks and ears to stop burning.

Jimin ducks his head with a flustered giggle, splaying his arms on the table to bury his face between dramatically. “Stop,” you hear him say, able to distinguish a pout in his voice even through the muffling. “It is silly. You’ll laugh at me.”

“I won’t ever laugh at you, Jiminie,” you say honestly, smile dropping. “I promise.”

With a deep sigh, he rises up again, locks of warm golden hair sticking up at odd angles like bedhead. Avoiding your gaze, he puckers his lips shyly, reddened where he’s nibbled at it. “It started back in primary school. My best friend loved butterflies, he wanted to be a lepidopterist even before we knew the word. Always talked about how beautiful they were and if he spent his life looking at beautiful things that he’d be happy forever.”

A thought occurs to you. “The one from that framed photo in your room?” you question.

Jimin looks up so fast he has to blink away the wobble of light-headedness that strikes him. “You’ve seen it?”

“The two little schoolboys, right?” you confirm. Once he nods, you grin, rushing to his room with the added aerodynamic rush that tipsiness gave you. The picture frame is on his little bedside table, and you gently carry it with you back to the lounge, dropping down heavily beside him on the floor instead of your perch on the couch. “So this is you and your friend?”

Jimin takes it with a fond, dopey smile. Both young, chubby kids are tan with crinkled eyes and black tufted hair, their matching uniforms and grins making them look thick as thieves. The shorter one with a perfectly round face made up primarily of his chipmunk cheeks and a button nose, clutches the straps of his backpack proudly. Jimin points at him. “That’s me,” he tells you, a chuckle in his voice, “I’m older than him yet he’s always been bigger than me. Unfair.” With a distant look, a quiet smile, Jimin brushes his thumb over the glass where the other boy stands, the cutest boxy smile revealing a set of pearly whites. “That’s Tae. I owe him everything.”

You look back and forth between him and the aged photograph, muffling a yawn that the late hour has triggered. “Are you guys still friends?”

Jimin sets the frame down, humming an affirmative. “He’s still back home.”

“Is he a lepidopterist too?”

A quick surprised glance to you to acknowledge you finally pronouncing his job title correctly, then he laughs warmly, shaking his head. “He’s an artist, can you believe it? Paints the most gorgeous things. Realistic ones, abstract ones, ones with only two or three colours. Has his own pseudonym and everything.” Jimin sends a grin to you, like an inside joke only you share. “He likes painting butterflies the most, though.”

“Do you miss him?” The moment the words are out of your mouth, you regret them. Jimin sobers up, and the moment is lost.

“Yeah,” he admits morosely. “But less than six weeks until I can go back home and see him again!”

Like instant karma, the realisation that he’ll be leaving shatters your good mood too. “Not long… Anyway, you do your research and go back and give it to your university? How does the thesis work?”

Jimin’s face sours with a bitter scoff. “Gah, it’s so confusing. There are so many stages, and reviews, and deadlines… I was a little late on sending in my first progress report, but it’ll be fine once I get the go-ahead. There’re meant to be every month, but I was a bit behind on typing all my notes up. There’s just so much to say, I don’t know how I can only mention some things and not others.”

You tip your head to the side, feeling the warm buzz of wine slip through your fingers, leaving you feeling heavy. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, tucking his legs so that he can rest his head on his knees. “I don’t know, like… Why should I get to say what’s relevant and what’s not? I write everything down, as much as possible, but for my report I had to try and choose what to cut for the word limit. Why is Kong’s feeding habits more important than Ronnie’s extra red stripe on his right wing? Why should I tell my supervisor that 87% of the female butterflies I’ve studied oviposit an average of two eggs a day but I don’t have room to tell her the joy the whole kaleidoscope had when Sophie finally laid her first eggs after a whole three weeks?” He leans back so that his head tips onto the couch seat, eyes upwards but unseeing, turned down in despair. “I could write a whole book on every single one of them, but all my supervisors want is data and generalisations. They want rules they can put into biology books and quote marks, they don’t really care about the stories. Taehyungie would understand.”

“I understand,” you feel the inexplicable need to say. “You’re such a good person, Jiminie.” Feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion hit you belatedly, you groan, pushing yourself up laboriously from the floor. “Aaand I think it’s time for me to hit the hay. Tonight was fun. Don’t worry about the mess; I’ll clean up tomorrow.”

“Have you forgotten we share this hut with the wildlife now?” Jimin asks with a quirked brow, laughing melodically when you groan again. “Don’t worry, you go to bed. I’ll clean up. Goodnight, Y/n.”

You should feel bad, you should tell him you’ll stay and help, but your bed is positively screaming your name. “Thank you! And for what it’s worth,” you add, “you’re the best leopard optimist I’ve ever met, Park Jimin.”

Though you don’t know it then, the radiant beam you receive is the last smile of his you’ll see for a while.

--

Seeing Jimin angry for the first time is the original red flag that something's up.

Waking up later than usual, you stretch languidly and pad down the hallway, already thirsty for your routine cup of tea, but Jimin's form hunched over stiffly in the kitchen causes you pause.

"Morning," you chime, but he doesn't even react, lids low and jaw tense as he stares intensely out the window. "I can make you a drink if you'd like?"

"Forget it," he spits, and you flinch. Six weeks together and you'd never heard that venom in his voice before.

"Did...Did something happen, Jiminie? Was it me, or...?"

His chest heaves in a shuddering breath, eyelashes fluttering miserably, before that stern fire returns. "No," he answers shortly. "It's me. It's this fucking thesis."

Your eyes fly wide, and suddenly concern and confusion turn to genuine alarm. Since when did Jimin swear? "The thesis?" You rack your brain, straining to recall your conversation last night. "Oh! The report, right? Did they finally get back to you?"

He lets out what sounds like a sob, lifting a hand to block it, and your heart melts, pulling him in for a hug. You can feel the stuttered way his heart is racing, as well as the way his whole body trembles with contained emotion as you tuck your chin on his shoulder, rubbing his back.

"Tell me," you coo, "tell me what happened. I promise it'll be okay."

"It won't," he assures, and like the shifting of winds, his body stiffens ironlike again, and he detaches you from him, crossing his arms with a hateful scowl. "She fucking rejected it. Told me to start again. Square one."

You're so shocked you don't even acknowledge the hurt of him pushing you away. "Holy shit, what? Can they even do that?"

Jimin scoffs darkly. "It was my fault, anyway. Meddling. Interfering with the research."

"How?" You think on it for a moment with furrowed brows. "Wait, you mean like, letting them in the house?"

"I mean everything, Y/n," he growls, voice growing louder with every word. "Letting them into the house, feeding them, fixing Baby's wing. She even told me off for giving them names, said it 'blurred the lines of scientific neutrality.' Now I have to start my three months of research again, with a different study group, no interfering. Halfway done, and now I'm-" He breaks off with an exhausted sigh. "Whatever. It's done now. At least you get your wish again. No bugs in the house."

You feel your heart sink. "Jiminie, that's not-"

"Please," he cuts you off, determinedly avoiding your gaze. "I messed everything up by meddling. I- I don't want to do it again. Let's just be roommates. Just call me Jimin, please. I'm sorry."

Against your will, tears well up in your eyes, not for yourself but for him. The pain that was written across his face. "I am so sorry," you manage to make out in a thick voice. "I'm sorry that you're stuck here with me and not Taehyung."

Jimin recoils violently, already pushing off the counter and making his way out of the kitchen. "Don't you dare speak to me about Taehyung."

He leaves, and the greater part of you knows he's taken your heart with him, just a broken void inside.

--

After a week of Jimin focussing fully on his work, you still end each day crying yourself to exhaustion. After two weeks, you notice your pants are a little too loose, and recall you'd forgotten to feed yourself most days. After the first month, you're taken aside by Angelo and told that you'd been receiving worse and worse feedback forms for your group tours. The truth is, seeing the wildlife, particularly the butterflies, makes you feel ill. You tell him you're just feeling under the weather and he suggests you take it easy for a few days. Those 'few days' seem to drag forever, your boss never asking you to come back in, so you wallow in your bedroom like a depressed ghost, wishing you could fade away.

Because it isn't just that Jimin's pushed you away. He's not even avoiding you, quite often curling up on the couch to pore over a textbook or type up notes periodically onto his old, bulky laptop. You see him almost every day, but he never says a word to you, and what really hurts is that he's burning out just like you are.

He's not happy. With sunken bags under his hollow eyes, he moves around in a lifeless mope, complimentary meals at the shared dining hall and kitchen the only thing keeping the plumpness in his cheeks. It tears you up inside to see him so miserable in the job he loves, the hut filled with negative space, emptiness where there should be flitting butterflies in the air and on every surface.

You don't know what he did with them. You'd gone to work that day and returned to find that all evidence of the butterflies having been removed. No Molly settling in your hair, no Kong acting like a tough guy, no sight of sweet little Baby and his slightly wonky wing. All you knew was that now he religiously checked the windows every night and morning to ensure they were closed.

Whether he realised it or not, you missed them too.

"It's been over a month," you say to him awkwardly one night after he comes back from dinner.

He pauses in the entryway, one foot in the air with a hand ready to take off his boot. "Yeah?"

"I just- Um, I was wondering if your one-month report came back okay."

He sighs delicately, and gives you a nod, finishing removing his footwear. "She gave me the go-ahead to continue, if that's what you're asking. Although she wasn't too happy that I needed more funding for another month and a half on-site."

"Don't pay," you blurt without thinking.

"Huh?"

You stammer, collecting your thoughts. "I- I mean, you don't- you don't have to pay. For the room. I can talk to Angelo. I don't mind having you here."

He pauses with socked feet, staring at you strangely, before his eyes clear and he shakes his head. "I don't want to be indebted to you."

You shrug. "It's not a debt to be repaid," you prompt, "it might not even work, I'm just saying I could always ask Angel-"

"And I don't want you to ask," Jimin cuts in, walking with thudded stomps to the kitchen, taking a water bottle from the fridge. "Just leave it alone, okay? It's the university's money anyway. Besides, I've already-" He cuts himself off, taking a swig from the cooled water.

"You've already what?"

He huffs, twisting back on the cap and levelling you a glare that has no energy to it. "I've already asked Angelo if I can change rooms if a hut frees up. So don't bother."

You go silent, shock and hurt swirling noiselessly through your veins.

His face crumples, stricken at your reaction and he gives a sniff before looking up at you one last time, ready to head to his room. "Goodnight."

You don't even spare him a reply, looking back down at the opened page of a book you'd been blankly staring at before he'd come in.

In your peripheral vision, you watch him wait for a moment, before his shoulders sag and he leaves in silence.

You don't realise you're crying until a fat drop lands on the page, blooming as it sinks in.

--

Willing your heart to let go, to forget, you bury yourself back into your work, taking on as many tours as possible and spending time with the kitchen and cleaning staff otherwise. It works for a long time, welcome distractions that occupy your mind and body, and you almost manage to convince yourself that it all was some distant event in the past, or a strangely realistic dream, that Jimin was just another roommate here for a job.

That progress shatters in a heartbeat when you come home to a familiar butterfly battering itself against the glass of the window beside the front door.

You falter, watching it silently as it repeatedly flies at the glass, dull thuds of impact, flaps of wings as it wriggled over the unyielding surface. "...Baby?"

Like it hears your voice, the butterfly stills, wonky wing slowing to a regular waving as it rests on the windowsill, turning to observe you.

"What are you doing?" you murmur in confusion, even as your heart leaps, the euphoria of meeting an old friend unexpectedly. You'd just about forgotten how naturally it felt to speak to them, but it all came back to you now. "What's going on?"

Baby flies over to you, hovering in front of your eyes before fluttering away, back the way you'd came. Hesitantly, you follow, and this seems to be the right thing to do as Baby continues to take periodical flights forward, checking you're following every single time.

Like a trail of breadcrumbs, Baby leads you to the back of the shared kitchen, to the set of untamed rose bushes that grow beneath the window. Hurriedly, Baby flutters to a leaf quite low to the ground and, checking around for people watching, you hunker down on your knees in the uneven dirt in front of the bush. "Baby, you know not to play here, you could get... Oh god."

These roses are a pale yellow, so it takes you no time to spot the weakly fluttering form lying on its back in the soil. It's been over a month since you've seen her, but you recognise her red patches like she'd never left. "Molly! What are you doing in there you poor thing?"

You feel a tickle on your inner wrist, Baby crawling down into the loose cup of your hand. With rising dread, you begin to piece the puzzle together. Baby, who already had a history of getting caught in the rose bushes, probably went in and got stuck. Molly, who'd always kept Baby near, would've gone in in a heartbeat to get him. But, judging by the way her left wing had a long tear running down towards her body, leaving it in two limp, barely-connected pieces, she'd been the one to hurt herself on the thorns this time.

"M-Molly," you call weakly, heart thudding in your chest in fear, "I'm gonna get you out, okay? Baby, come sit on my shoulder, I need my hands free."

Rather than risking injuring her more than she already was, you dig your fingers into the lush soil, lifting up the section of dirt with her on top, using both hands. Thorns leave red lines across your knuckles and cut nicks in your forearms, but you ignore the pain, focussed on gently extracting Molly safely from the bush, Baby restless on your shoulder, immediately fluttering down to rest on the soil beside his mother.

Rushing home, you knock on the door with your foot, just about cracking the wood - or your toes - in your urgency.

Jimin answers eventually, throwing you a weird look when he first seems the heap of dirt in your hands, before noticing what's on it. "Wha- Baby? Molly? Y/n, I'm not meant to- Oh god, what happened to her?"

You sniff, no hands free to wipe your nose which threatens to run. "Baby was outside when I got home, he led me to her. She got torn up in the rosebush."

He sucks in a breath, leaning closer to inspect her damaged wing. "I- We can't- I can't...meddle," he stammers, eyes shiny with unshed tears.

You furrow your brows in disbelief. "But- Jimin, you aren't even studying the original group anymore, why does it matter?"

He falters, taking a step back into the house, eyes on the doorframe instead of you or the butterflies in your hands. "If I make an exception now, I know I'll just keep doing it, and I can't afford to ruin my research again. Can you just- just take them away, please?"

Your mouth drops open, salt bursting on your tongue as tears slip in from the corners of your lips. "But Jimin, this is Molly!"

He lets out a sob, lips trembling violently as he scrubs the tears from his face and eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just a butterfly," he answers hollowly, voice cracking on the last word.

"You don't believe that," you accuse.

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, thick trails of tears dropping over his cheeks. "Just please go," he begs. Without a further word, he steps back, and the door shuts on you.

With no hands free to wipe your face, you sit on the porch with stinging eyes and snot on your upper lip, staring down at the two butterflies on the soil in your hands miserably.

"I'm so sorry," you make out with a raw voice, sniffing noisily. Baby bats his wings slowly in confusion, staring down at his mother, who grows weaker by the minute. How long had she lain there, unable to move, while Baby tried to get Jimin's attention? How much longer did she have? A new wave of sobs wracks your body, and you let it pull you under, feeling like this heartache is the least you deserve.

Though it takes hours, sun setting and shadows spreading over the grass of the campyard, you stay on that porch, trying to wipe your face on your shoulder so your tears and runny nose don't drip onto your friends. Your friends.

You couldn't save Molly, but you didn't want her or Baby to be alone.

She flutters her good wing for the last time shortly after midnight, judging by how high the moon is in the sky, an omniscient bystander tucked behind cloud.

Baby stays beside his mother for a while. Ten minutes, two hours, you don't know. Eventually, he crawls slowly over the dirt and onto your arm, like he doesn't have the energy to fly. With the lightest tickle of steps up your arm, he finally tucks himself in the hollow of your collarbone, a flutter of misery and solace. Your tears are silent now, but they never stop.

After an eternity, the door clicks open quietly. It's Jimin.

He stays quiet for a moment, eyes on you though you don't turn to look at him. "Is she gone?" he asks finally. You nod emotionlessly. "I'm sorry," he whispers into the pre-dawn air.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. "You lost the one you should've said sorry too hours ago."

He goes quiet at this. You almost expect him to turn around and go back inside with how long he goes without saying anything, but eventually he speaks up again. "I want to do something. I- It's too late now, but... I think the least I can do is give her a...proper burial."

You've been thinking about this yourself, for some time. Baby gives a curious flap of his wings. You sniff, tears finally drying up for now. "I know a place," you answer.

You walk in silence, leading the way.

At one point, Baby leaves your shoulder, flying back. You hear a solemn, "hey, buddy," followed by muffled sniffs and shaky breaths that sound like he's begun to cry. Wanting to give him some privacy, you don't turn around to check.

By the time you make it to the butterfly meadow, sun has broken over the horizon. Hot on your back, it casts long, thin shadows on the grass as you approach. "We're here," you say redundantly.

"I guess I'll- I'll dig a hole somewhere," he murmurs back, overtaking you.

Though he's grieving, you're surprised at his lack of reaction, until he steps in front of you and wipes his eyes clear of tears, hands slick with how much he's been crying. He could probably barely see to follow you. The moment he lowers his arm and looks up for a spot, he gasps quietly, eyes widening in awe.

A couple of days of rain recently had done the meadow well, and it's lush beneath your feet, a vibrant green that glints silver in the sunlight with morning dew. Sprinkled around are uncountable species of flowers, some recognisable like daisy patches and dandelions, the more colourful ones along the outskirts of the trees unfamiliar yet just as magical, pastel pinks and deep reds, pure whites and royal purples. But what's no doubt caught Jimin's eye, what he spins slowly around and strains his neck to see, are the darting kaleidoscopes of colour in the sky, at least a hundred butterflies all flitting around and basking in the unbroken sunlight.

"It's beautiful," Jimin breathes, "this is perfect, Y/n." He takes a deep breath, open mouth and lifted brows, trying to fight any further tears. There's a different glint in his eyes now. Not quite happiness, or content. Solace. Relief.

He picks a spot closer to the murky river, where the soil is damper and easier to lift. Once done, he helps you lay the heap of dirt, and Molly with it, into the shallow hole. Brushing off the dirt from your hands, you sit back on your knees, observing the way Jimin hesitates over the small pile of excavated soil beside the hole.

His hand hovers for a moment before he falters, looking up at you. Nestled in the honey blonde hair above his eyebrow is Baby, wings still. Like a cut directly into your heart, the thought strikes you that it's where Molly used to sit. "Should we...say something?" he asks tentatively.

Your heart melts. "I think that would be nice."

He swallows, nodding with distant eyes. "Um... Molly, you were the first butterfly that trusted me. Because of your friendliness, your family and friends grew to trust me too, and I'm so grateful that- I'm so-" Jimin's face crumples, and he buries it in his hands, voice muffled. "I'm so sorry that I betrayed your trust," he sobs, "I failed you and I failed Baby and I'm so so sorry."

Chest aching at the way Jimin looks so small curled up there in front of Molly's grave, you find yourself speaking too, to him just as much as Baby and Molly. "Molly, we were so lucky to know you. You brought light into both of our lives. I was truly happy in every moment spent with you, and now I know that you're in a better place, that you'll have eternal happiness. We'll try and keep positive and keep bright to honour you." Your eyes slip from Molly to the broken boy beside you. "And we'll take care of Baby for you. You did well, mama."

Jimin lets out a shaking sigh and nods, lifting his face up again. Even with red eyes and a running nose, he's beautiful. You take a breath and force yourself not to think about that now.

Silently, he fills in the dirt over Molly, covering her and leaving a patted-down patch of naked soil. There's a finality to it that leaves you short of breath, and the two of you sit wordlessly for a while, just watching the butterflies above flit around the sky, a gentle breeze flowing over your skin.

Once he's finished his quiet reflection, Jimin clears his throat, shifting so that his body faces you, although his gaze is still outward. "I'm not cut out for this," he says simply.

"The funeral?"

"No, I mean- everything. The thesis, the research. Scientific neutrality. I can't do it. It's too cruel."

You take the time to process this. "...What are you saying, Jimin?"

"Could you-" he starts in a strangled voice. His head ducks to look firmly at the ground, so all you can see is his mussed golden locks. "Could you go back to the way you said it before?"

"Huh?"

He fiddles with a blade of grass. "Jiminie," he whispers, and you hate the way your heart pangs when you hear it.

"Jiminie," you obey, "you don't mean you're going to give it up, right? Your thesis?"

He shrugs, head lifting reluctantly. "I can't do this for another two more months," he explains, "and I'm scared of what will happen when I have to- to leave."

You nod slowly. "Do you have to, though? Leave?"

Jimin nods, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair and letting out a wet chuckle when Baby, startled by the sudden shifting, flits over to you and rests petulantly on the crown of your head. He quickly sobers up, though. "Yeah. I have to go back, edit it, submit it, then defend it at my university. How am I meant to defend something I hate?"

"Could you..." You pause, catching up with your thoughts. "Could you change your thesis?"

Jimin lets out a sigh, plump lips turned down morosely. "And start from scratch again? Technically I could, sure, but I can't get past the scientific neutrality thing, Y/n."

An idea begins to bubble in the back of your mind, making you sit upright. "What if you didn't have to do either of those things?"

"What?"

"When you were taking care of the butterflies in the house, they were living longer, right? Because they were being fed and kept safe and given medical care." He shrugs, and you take it as an affirmative. "Then why couldn't you change your thesis to compare the longwing erato on its own versus it with your intervention? Your whole angle could be on like, conservation through human aid."

"I'd still have to start ove- Wait! This first month could serve as the 'before', and I can spend the next two months taking care of them to show the 'after.'" A smile stretches across his face, something you haven't seen in over a month, and it's positively healing. "Y/n, you're a genius! I would have to check with my supervisor, but... This could really work! And I wouldn't have to leave them alone anymore..."

Jimin's eyes dart to Baby, who's still comfy in your hair, then a change happens on his face, a realisation. "Y/n..." With bated breath, you lock your eyes with his, melting into the deep brown. "This- this whole situation has taught me something. That I'd rather make connections and prioritise feelings, even at the cost of what I'm supposed to do. I've lost someone very dear to me today, but the reality is, I lost her the moment I cleared all the butterflies out of the hut. And god, Y/n, I don't think I can bear to lose you too."

Your eyes widen, taken aback by the earnestness of his voice and the vulnerability in his face. "Jiminie..."

His eyes soften visibly at the way you call his name, his upper half leaning closer towards you, so that your faces are less than half a metre apart. Too far to touch, but close enough that you can make out every detail on his face, the way his eyebrows knit together and lift, the dark pink in your peripheral where he run his teeth over his bottom lip. "I've been so scared. So scared of the day I would have to leave you, that I'd tried to act like I didn't care, but I can't do it. If I have another two months here, I want to spend them at your side, not just under the same roof. I just... I have two questions. Firstly; what was it you said on the lookout tower that day? The Spanish sentence, I mean."

Feeling overwhelmed, your lips stretch into a fond smile when you recall it. "Cada vez que yo te veo y que te pienso, siento que florezco."

"That's it," he nods, "what does it mean?"

Somehow it feels less romantic in Korean, and you blush, having to fight to keep your eyes on him. "Every time I look at you or think about you I feel like I'm blooming."

A shy smile of wonder lights up his face. "You- even then, you liked me? I thought I was the only one then."

"You liked me too?" He nods sheepishly. "Since when?"

"The first time."

You give a confused head shake. "The first time what?"

"The first time I saw you," he reveals in a delicate voice.

Speechless, you just stare at him in shock for a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you clear your throat. "Wh-what's the second question?"

His voice drops to a lower register, honey like his hair. "Can I kiss you?"

Your breath catches. Instead of answering, you lean forward to close the distance, cupping his cheeks to guide his mouth to yours. Those lips, the ones you had spent hours fantasising about, felt like heaven against you, soft and warm and plush. Jimin goes still in surprise for a brief moment before he melts, the lightest vibration of a whimper tingling your lips. Belatedly, his hands lift to steady your hips and you sigh, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss.

You can feel his round cheeks warming beneath your fingers, his nose pressing against the apple of your cheekbone, and a tickle on your scalp where Baby flutters. But beyond that, beyond the silk of his lips and the beautiful gasps he lets out, there's a rising wave of euphoria inside you, and you can't help but smile into the kiss, overjoyed.

Not breaking for a second, you shuffle forward, slipping one hand into his hair, which is softer than cotton, longer than it was when you came without a hairdresser nearby to tidy it up. Winding locks around your fingers, you tug lightly from the nape of his neck to tip his head a little further back.

Jimin whines, one hand flying up to grip onto your wrist and you pull back in concern. He follows your lips, eyes staying lidded as he sucks in breaths through his mouth.

"Are you-" you stutter, "was that too much? I'm sorry."

He blinks at last and gives you a bleary look, sucking his swollen bottom lip into his mouth. "It's okay, it's just- Maybe not the right time and place."

You sit back, head clearing. "Right, yeah, that's fair."

Jimin's eyes drop to the ground with a coy, but still shy smile. "I would very much like to do that again. Preferably a lot."

You go to laugh, but grimace when you feel the dried tears on your cheeks. Yeah, definitely not the. right time or place. "Let's go home," you say softly, standing up off the ground. "I don't know about you, but I think it's about time we opened up our windows again. So Baby and the others can come back home too."

Jimin beams up and you and nods. "Let's go home," he echoes simply.

--

"Morning, Jiminie," you coo, tilting your head up onto the back of the couch so he can press a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning, baby," he returns, smiling against your skin before straightening up again. "Not going out on the porch today?"

You let out a dry two-beat laugh. Outside, the campground is basically a mudslide, tropical rain beating down, pattering on the roof noisily. "Did you shut the windows?"

He collapses onto the couch beside you with a sigh, arms already winding around your middle to snuggle in close. "...almost all the way, yes." At your look of reproach, Jimin elaborates. "And I put towels on the floor under the window sills."

Unable to stay mad at him, especially not when he throws a leg over your lap and tucks in like a koala, you laugh begrudgingly. "I guess that's the best I'm gonna get, huh? Lazy day today? All my tours have been cancelled and I can't imagine you'll get much done out there either."

With a hum of agreement, Jimin lifts his head, resting it on your shoulder to look up at you. "That means it's just the two of us," he states coyly.

"Mm, and about thirty flying bugs. Romantic."

Jimin's brows tug down sharply as he glares at you, though without any real malice. "They are too romantic, and you know they aren't technically bugs. I put some sugar water on my desk for them, we can just ignore them."

You pretend to ponder for a moment, his face so close you have to pull back to fully see it. "Fine, but to be clear the butterflies stay out during sex."

He sits up, an unreadable expression dulling his eyes.

In response, you widen yours. "Wait... You don't seriously want the butterflies around while we're having sex, right? Is that some kind of lepidopterist thing? Because if so, I am not-"

"It's not that," he blurts hastily, "it's just..."

You let all playful humour drop from your voice, leaving only concern. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, Jiminie. I didn't mean to upset you."

He slips his arms back from around your torso. Before you can mourn the loss of his body heat, he latches onto your arm and cuddles into your side, covering his face with your shoulder. You can feel just how hot his cheeks are, and reach out with your other hand to tenderly card your fingers through his hair, hoping to calm him down.

"You'll laugh at me," he mumbles, lips moving against your bare skin. You tut softly, assuring him otherwise, but still it takes him a few moments to work up the courage. "I haven't...done it before."

"That's it?" you question softly. Jimin just lets out a miserable whine. "Jiminie, that's no biggie. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you or anything. We can just take things slow."

He sits himself up a little, then, propping his cheek on your shoulder to look you in the eye. You suppress the twitch of your lip as you see the way it pushes his plush lips out and crinkles his eye with the displacement of the flesh of his cheek. "I want to though," he protests in a pout. "Because I like kissing so much, and I like you so much. I'm just...I don't know if I'm ready yet."

You hum in thought, cupping his free cheek fondly. "Is there a reason you haven't had sex before, or has the opportunity just never really come up?"

He shrugs cutely, leaning into your touch. "Well...Taehyungie-" He breaks off, fixing you with an imploring look. "You can't tell him I told you this."

Your lips stretch into a grin at the thought that he's expecting the two of you to meet one day. "I promise I won't."

With a resounding nod, Jimin continues. "Well, Taehyungie and I have always lived together since we moved out for university. He was always more confident than me, and so he- he slept with a bunch of people. Which is like, good for him, you know, I'm not judging at all, but... I don't know, from what he told me and what I...heard, it just sounded really aggressive and, um, intense. I don't think I can be like that. I don't know if it's really my thing. So I- I just never really did it."

You furrow your brows, processing his words. "Jiminie, sex doesn't have to be like that. Some people like it like that, others don't. It can be as gentle as you want, you know that, right?"

With a whine, he pulls away from you and buries his face in his hands. "God, this is so embarrassing," he moans miserably, "I'm sorry, I'm such a wuss."

"No, stop that," you chastise, softly linking your hands around his delicate wrists and pulling them away from his face, gazing into his puppy brown eyes intensely. "I'm serious, Jiminie, there's nothing wrong with not wanting that. Besides, we... stop me if this is too far, but we don't have to go all the way."

He blinks, lips moving silently before he collects his thoughts. "Do you- what do you mean?"

"Well, instead of going straight to sex, we could do other stuff instead. I could go down on you, if you want. Baby steps, you know? We don't have to rush."

His hands fall down the length of your arm, dropping to your free hand where he fiddles unconsciously with your fingers. "Baby steps?" he echoes.

You beam and nod. "Yeah. But only if you want to, only if you're ready." You carefully detach yourself from him, standing up off the couch. "Just think about it, and when you've made a decision you can-" You cut yourself off when your arm is tugged back by two small hands. "Jiminie?"

"I want it," he confesses decidedly, "I'm ready." His eyes turn soft, and the pressure of his fingers wrapped around your wrist and hand weaken. "Just gentle?"

Your heart melts in an instant and you can't help but stare down at him in wonder. "How are you so perfect?" you breathe, bending down to press a single kiss across his lips. "I'll be gentle, I promise." You go to leave again, but his grip doesn't falter, keeping you rooted. Bottom lip sticking out, Jimin looks up at you with rounded eyes. "Right now?" you ask in surprise. He nods, stutteringly. "Here?"

This causes him to pause. "Maybe...the bed?"

"Whose bed?"

More deliberation. "Y-your bed."

"My bed it is." You lead him, connected by the hands that still latch onto your arm. Your room, unfortunately, is a bit messy, not having expected the turn of events, and you hastily pull up the duvet and pat out the wrinkles, gesturing awkwardly for him to lie down.

Doing so, he hops up and wriggles so that his head is on the pillows, staring directly at the ceiling with startled eyes like a patient in a doctor's office. It would make you laugh if you weren't so worried about him feeling comfortable. "Jiminie," you coo softly, "if you aren't comfortable-"

"Maybe some kissing first," he blurts suddenly, lifting his head off the pillow to look at you, eyes rounded and pleading.

You beam, lying down on your side next to him. "I can't say no to that."

A smile stretches across his lips, which you soon cover with your own, leaning down to press a light kiss against them. He sighs, already relaxing further as his eyes flutter shut, sinking into the pillows.

Fingers splayed across his jaw, you litter countless pecks on his mouth, never more than a brush of pressure, until the bed shakes a little with him kicking out his feet. You pull back, replacing your smile with a look of innocence. "Is that too much, Jiminie?"

He pouts, snaking the arm closest to you around your torso so that you can slip closer. "Don't tease me," he whines, lip and brow crumpling to obtain your sympathy, but avoiding your gaze with red cheeks. "I jus' want you to take care of me."

"Of course I will, Jiminie, I'm sorry," you say with a rueful smile. "But do tell me if it gets too much, okay? I want you to be happy."

He nods, pushing his head back onto the pillow, slightly on an angle to face you. "I will, I promise." His fingers find yours, tentatively intertwining your hands together, eyes low. "Can you kiss me again?"

You answer not with words but with a kiss, a proper one this time, lips pressing intently but still tenderly against his. A relieved sigh leaves his mouth, but it's swallowed up between you, Jimin tightening his arm around you so that your bodies fall flush against each other, one of your legs between his. With closed eyes, the feeling of him against you is even more magical; all plush lips, desperately grasping fingers and trembling body.

Even without a hand free to touch his face - one hand holding his and the other propping you up - you can feel the warmth of his cheeks, an overwhelmed blush that he can't seem to control, and the way he's responding to you triggers a heat inside you too. You deepen the kiss, parting your lips enough to let your tongue run down the seam of his mouth, Jimin letting out a surprised gasp that grants you entry. Though it had been just over three weeks since you'd first kissed him, it had always stayed very light, you waiting for him to make a move. Now, though, you realise that he's probably been waiting for you this whole time.

"'s this okay?" you check in, murmured against his lips.

Jimin shakily takes a breath, nodding in tiny jerks so as not to break the contact. "Ye- keep going," he pleads in a whisper.

Every time your tongue meets his, or swipes over the inner, more sensitive skin of his lips, he gasps, fingers flexing around yours. When adjusting your position, your leg brushes against his crotch and he shudders. He's hard.

Carefully monitoring his reaction even as you continue to move your mouth sweetly against his, you shift your leg again, brushing against the front of his shorts, fabric taut over the crotch. A throaty, keening whine leaves his lips, his mouth going slack. When he speaks, the tiniest puff of air is all that comes out, but you hear him still. "Please."

You let your hand go slack, pulling it down, but Jimin holds on tighter, refusing to let go. With him unable to kiss you back, you press your lips to his cheek, down to his jawline, the sensitive skin just below his ear.

He wriggles beneath you, already overwhelmed with just that simple touch, but also tugs your entwined hands lower between his legs, shifting his hips with a needy whimper.

"You need to let go, Jiminie," you instruct softly, "let go of my hand so I can touch you."

Reluctantly, his fingers untangle from yours, instead gripping onto a handful of your duvet. You take this as a green light to go ahead, and fiddle with the button of his shorts, gently flicking your tongue and sucking gently at the soft point where his jaw meets his neck, a sign of what's to come.

Once you manage to undo his shorts you instruct him to take them off, sitting back to watch him restlessly shuffle out of them, legs lifting so he can grab the fabric while still lying down, folding them and placing them to his other side, close to the wall. After lying flat again, Jimin blinks owlishly at you, hand covering his crotch. You move it aside gently, back to the duvet, and he buries his flaming cheeks into the crook of your shoulder, toes wiggling in embarrassment.

He wears simple white cotton briefs, a narrow trail of near-translucent hair peeking out from above the waistband, legs twisting together self-consciously, though it only makes his straining erection more obvious. "You're gorgeous, Jiminie," you say honestly, "so perfect."

His legs go lax, though they don't shift apart, ankles crossed, though that's okay for now. Not wanting to spook him, you start slow, cupping him over his underwear, thumb locating his sensitive head easily due to the coin-sized wet patch of the fabric above it. His thighs tremble even at the light stimulation, and he shakily lifts his head, pouting and straining for another kiss.

Continuing your slow, shallow circles of your thumb over him to ease him into it, you capture his lips again, shifting the arm propping you up on the pillow so that your hand can cup his head, massaging his scalp and keeping him in place.

"Does it feel good, Jiminie?" you question when you part from him to take a breath.

His eyes stay shut, cherubic lashes fluttering as he sucks his swollen bottom lip into his mouth. "Feels really good," he confirms in a husky yet melodic voice. "Can I have some more?"

"Of course you can, my sweet prince," you allow warmly. Shifting your hand away from his crotch, you smooth your palm over his hipbone, and then up under his t-shirt to brush up his side, making him shiver. "Do you wanna take your shirt off too, or just your underwear?"

His mouth turns down slightly at being made to make a decision, as he blinks his eyes open blearily. "But you still have all your clothes on," he protests faintly.

"I can take my clothes off if it makes you feel comfortable," you offer easily, "it's up to you."

Jimin purses his lips to the side in thought. "Maybe...we both take our shirts off? I- I wanna see you too."

Clearly he hadn't thought it through too much, because his mouth drops open in upset shock when you detangle yourself from him to sit up, shucking your shirt off and helping him to lift off his.

"Am I keeping my shorts on?" you question, but he just shrugs cutely, looking up at you from below his lashes. You smile. "I'll leave them on then, this is about you. Jiminie, can I take your underwear off now?"

With a deep breath, he nods nervously, letting you slide them over his hips and down off his legs, leaving him bare to you. You can see the way his fingers tighten on the duvet, probably with the urge to cover himself again, but you're glad he doesn't

Resting back against his stomach, his cock drips clear fluid onto the tan skin, a glossy patch that you long to run your finger through. You're surprised at just how hard he is, the head a deeply flushed pink and a single vein running up the underside. He's thicker than most you've seen, if a little shorter, and there's a delicate curve to him that makes you long to have him inside you. Not today, though. For now, you simply lie back down beside him, bringing him into a kiss meant to distract.

Rather than going straight towards his dick, though it's probably aching for attention, you instead return your hand to his side, smoothing broad strokes over his overheating skin as your tongue and lips move against his slightly-parted mouth.

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and very lightly grazing your teeth, you simultaneously thumb at one of his dusky pink nipples, pulling a stuttered moan from his open mouth.

"I wan' you to touch me," Jimin makes out through gasped breaths, chest writhing as you continue to play with his sensitive peak.

"I am touching you," you retort simply.

"Down there!"

Unable to deny riling up the responsive boy, you let the tips of your fingers run down the centre of his chest, right to the bottom of his torso, before skating to the side and skimming down his trembling thigh, gripping the muscled flesh. "Here?" Jimin whines out a no, and you raise your hand higher, pointer finger pressing at his hip bone. "Here?"

Breaking away from your mouth, Jimin wriggles his head in a shake, calling your name unhappily.

Taking mercy, you suddenly reach over and wrap your fingers around his shaft, thumb pressing down on his weeping slit. "Here?"

His back arches and he sucks in a moan, hand reaching over to grip your wrist as his eyes clench tightly shut. "Y-yes," he cries helplessly, curling sideways towards you, head shifting so that his fevered cheek presses against your other hand on the pillow.

"That's it," you coo, stroking up to collect some of the pooling wetness to use as lubricant, heart swelling at the beautiful sounds falling from his parted lips. "I'll take care of you, yeah?"

He nods his head shakily, already seeming so far gone after less than a minute, panting, writhing as you tighten your grip around him just enough to provide more pleasure. "Take care of Minnie," Jimin chants mindlessly, rocking his hips into your grip.

With a fond smile, you sit up, taking your hand off him so you can lower yourself between his legs, parting them with both hands even as he kicks them out in frustration. "Just be patient," you chastise, "I said I'd go down on you, didn't I?"

His breath catches and eyes open wide, marveling at the sight of you lying between his legs. "O-okay," he stammers, swallowing hard. "It'll feel good too?"

"It'll feel even better," you promise, gripping him gently, "just tell me if it's too much."

With bated breath and blown pupils, Jimin waits as you teasingly press kisses up his length, following the raised outline of the vein.

It seems like he's calmed down enough, so you lick a bold stripe up the path you'd set, Jimin's moaned sigh like music to your ears. His thighs are tensed up on your shoulders, and you can see the way his lower abdomen flexes, muscles shifting beneath golden skin.

"Relax, Minnie," you say, "you're okay." He does his best to let his muscles go lax, throwing an arm over his eyes, and you take the chance to put your tongue on him again, this time slowly dipping it into the slit at his tip where precum pools, a burst of tanginess that you can't say you mind. His mouth dangles loosely open, lips a dark pink like his tip with all the blood that's rushed to it. He's beautiful.

"Alright?" you check in, and he gives a shallow nod, tilting his hips up in the search for more stimulation. You continue simply laving your tongue over him for a few moments, getting him used to it, before angling him over your mouth and wrapping your lips around his head, sucking lightly.

With a strangled moan, his legs close like clams on either side of you, back arching clean off the bed. His fingers fisted taut in the duvet, he rocks his upper half side-to-side, other hand clutching at the corner of the pillow. Shocked, you lift yourself off of him, concerned it was too much, but this gets even more of a reaction, a high, needy keen ripping out of his throat as his hips jerk up, hiccuping out a, "ple-ease."

"Oh, Minnie," you coo softly, "did you like it? I didn't want to overwhelm you."

When his arm lowers from across his face, it reveals begging eyes bright with tears. "'S good," he whines, bottom lip trembling, "just got a fright."

Your lips stretch into a disbelieving smile. "A fright? Why; because I sucked?"

One of his hands stretches wide, fingers making grabby motions. You use the hand not currently on his dick to hold onto it and bring it to your mouth, pressing an apologetic kiss to the back of his hand.

Jimin swallows and shakes his head. "C-cause it was so w-warm." The way he hiccups through his words, out of his mind with need and still so sweet, has you melting. "You can do it again, though. I want it."

Acquiescing, still with a comforting grip on his hand, you lower your mouth again, this time going deeper so that the flat of your tongue drags against his underside. His fingers tense around yours, but his legs go lax, instead beginning to rock his hips in place, like his body doesn't know what to do with the pleasure.

The weight of him on your tongue is enough to have you drooling, making the slide even easier as you bob slowly, sucking steadily. On every upstroke, your tongue catches and flicks at the underside of his head, and he jerks each time, breath catching and exhaling in stuttered moans.

He sounds so beautiful above you that you feel your own core heating in need, clenching your thighs with the urge for stimulation. But this is about him, so you push the thought aside and pull up off Jimin's cock so you can focus your attention at his head, which so far seems far more sensitive than the shaft.

It only takes a few deft laps and shallow bobs before his whimpering and squirming beneath you, unable to stay still. His eyes have long since clenched shut, brows knitting with a wide open mouth as he's overcome with pleasure.

You use the hand that holds him steady to jerk off what's not in your mouth, and a low, guttural moan falls out of his mouth, tapering up into a squeak as he suddenly gets harder and spurts into your mouth, convulsing as you lap up all the cum that spills from his tip, swallowing as you go. It's more than you'd usually expect from oral, and you imagine that's a pairing of it being his first time, as well as the fact that he didn't see the type to masturbate often.

He curls up in on himself when the pleasure turns to sharp overstimulation, and you release him, his spent cock lying against his thigh, and you give him a few moments of rest to come down, holding tightly onto his hand and rubbing comfortingly at the outer side of his leg with the other, feeling how strongly he shivers beneath you.

Once he finally calms down, taking deeper breaths, you swing your legs over the bed and stand up, patting the back of his hand as an indication to let go. "You can use my bathroom if you want, Jiminie. Or just take a nap here. I should give you some time."

"Wait," Jimin protests in a low pout, laboriously propping himself up to a sitting position. "Kisses?"

You beam, leaning down to press a fond kiss across his silken lips. "Happy?"

Jimin nods with a blissed-out smile, and you swallow a chuckle at his ruffled honey locks and flushed cheeks. "So happy."

"I'm glad to hear it, my sweet prince," you coo, "but if you want more kisses, I better go brush my teeth."

--

The second report comes and goes, approved. More and more days are met with rain as the seasons change, and gradually Jimin becomes more comfortable with you, the two of you making the choice one day to push your two beds together after Jimin had rolled out of your bed one too many times from falling asleep cuddling. He promises he'll come to you when he's ready to take the next step, but as your final month counts down, a dark cloud begins to hover over the two of you. The fact that he'll have to go home soon. Too soon.

You hate that you've got a mental countdown blaring in your mind, but speaking to Jimin about it makes it real, and so you promise yourself later, always later that you'll bring it up, letting yourself make him tea and breathe his scent and feel his lips on yours in ignorant bliss just a bit more.

That works until you don't have any laters left. That works until you sit on his bed with a cup of lukewarm tea, watching him pack his bags. "Are you looking forward to going back?" you ask in a small voice.

Jimin, looking like a vision even in a ratty pink t-shirt and plain shorts, pauses with an armful of textbooks. "I'm... I'm excited to see Tae again," he answers with a nostalgic smile. "We've been chatting online a bunch lately. He's going to pick me up from the airport."

You have to bite down hard on your lip to prevent the sting of tears. "Does he know? About us?"

With indecision clear on his face, Jimin runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands that always seem to fall on his face, long overdue for a haircut. "I- To be honest, I don't really know what to say. I don't even know what to say to you."

"About what?"

"About us," he emphasises, dropping his textbooks with a thud on the floor and sitting on top of his first filled suitcase. "We never really had a conversation about it, you know? I know we should've, but... I don't really know where we go from here."

You nod, staring into the murky depths of your now-unappetising tea. "Well... We know you have to go back to Korea. To argue your thesis."

"Defend my thesis," he corrects softly, "but yes. Other than that, though, I still need to go over it with my supervisor, there are a few rounds of editing and finalising. It- it's not like a week back to finish off. I'll be there for a while. Probably a couple months at minimum."

"Minimum? I guess you'll stay there."

Jimin rests his elbows on his knees, head ducked and propped up in his hands. "I- I know what I want to do, but I'm scared to ask the question."

You frown. "The question?"

He looks up, takes a deep breath. "If I... If I wanted to come back, would you wait for me?"

"Come back?" you repeat, barely breathing.

Jimin's eyes glint; he's trying not to cry. "I didn't wanna speak too soon, but the more I think about it, I don't think I can just leave and never come back. I'm in love with you, Y/n. For a long time, now."

Your nose prickles violently, and you let out a shaky breath. "I love you too, Jiminie, so much. Of course I'll wait. As long as you promise you will come back to me."

Jimin nods, brushing back his hair again. "I've been thinking about that too."

You furrow your brows, putting the mug of tea onto his nightstand. "Coming back?"

"A promise," he clarifies. "To show that you're the one for me. That I wanna be with you." He takes a breath to steady himself. "I want to do it tonight, before I go. Have sex."

You sit upright, eyes widening. "Are you sure? Jimin, that's a big deal."

"Like I said, I've been thinking about it. I'm ready, and there's nobody I'd rather do it with than you. I trust you, and... and I love you."

"I love you too," you reply softly, and it feels even more right to say the second time, an unfurling of pure joy in your heart.

"Can we do it now?" he asks immediately, brows lifting to emphasise his pleading puppy eyes.

"Jiminie, you haven't even finished packing-"

"That doesn't matter," he interjects, "I can do that tomorrow morning, the shuttle comes at 10. I need you now, Y/n." He stands up only to crouch at the bedside beside you, grasping your hands. "Take care of Minnie again."

Your breath leaves your lungs in one defeated sigh. Like always, you can't say no to him, not that you even want to. "Okay, Minnie. Let's go to my room."

Though you've gone down on him a few times after his first, Jimin hadn't stopped being so sensitive, and so as you lazily make out (Jimin a little more rushed than you), you let your hand dip underneath his shirt, flicking at a nipple with a thumb you'd wet in your mouth moments earlier. Like clockwork, he trembles under your ministrations, this time hunched on top of you, straddling your lap and bending to meet your mouth.

He's gotten far more confident at kissing, and you're in heaven as he holds your face in both hands, licking into your mouth but whimpering from your touch all the while.

With his legs on either side of your hips, you can feel his hardness pressing down on you, already so eager, and you can't help but sigh blissfully when he rocks his hips unconsciously.

"Minnie," you make out between kisses, "too many clothes."

He tries valiantly to remove his shirt while remaining firmly joined at the lips, huffing when he has to sit up to pull it off. You quickly follow suit, but take the added step of removing your bra.

The first time he's seen your breasts, Jimin's mouth drops open, a look of awe glimmering in his eyes. You arch your back, wanting nothing more than for those sinful lips to wrap around your stiff peaks.

"You're so beautiful, my love," he gushes in wonder.

"You can touch," you whisper, though really it's code for please touch.

Chest heaving, he cups your breasts with gentle hands, thumbs skimming over the sensitive nipples like you'd done to him. The electricity of his slightly calloused fingertips on your skin is sent right to your core, and you let out a shaky breath, his hands rising and falling with it.

"Good?" he questions softly, and you nod, sighing out your confirmation. Jimin blinks down at you, wetting his lips. "Can I...?"

Without a second's hesitation, you nod, hoping he means what you think he means. You're proven right when he ducks his head, hot mouth latching onto your right nipple. The contact sends a bolt of arousal through you and you whimper as he immediately begins to suck, hard.

"Jimin," you make out in a strangled voice, taken aback by his sudden vigor. "Oh, god, it's so go-"

"Minnie," he interrupts, bringing his face up to your neck without lifting his mouth so that he leaves a wet trail ran behind him, "it's Minnie."

You laugh breathily, but your grin drops away to a shocked moan as he hungrily laps at your skin, sucking lovebites over your pulse point in a way that has you arching your neck, desperate for more. "Fuck, Minnie, where did this come from?"

"Wanna make you feel good," you hear in a muffled sigh, feeling the vibration on your skin. With a boldness you hadn't associated with him before, Jimin reaches between you and rolls your other nipple between his fingers, grasping at the flesh and tugging roughly.

Though it feels better than you'd like to admit, something's wrong, and you pull him away. "Wait, wait," you ease, struggling to detach both his hand and mouth from you. Once he realises you want him off you, he sits up with the confused look of a kicked puppy. "Do you not like it?"

His hands hang limply at his sides, and you interlock your fingers to reassure him. "Minnie, how come you're acting like this? You've never been this way before."

He blinks, a dimpled line between his brows where he furrows them. "Because we're having sex," he answers in an uncertain tone, "and I wanted to make you feel good. Is it not right?"

Belatedly, you recall a conversation you'd had about a month ago, about his friend's sexual habits. Poor Jimin really had internalised one man's preferences as the rule of thumb and taken it to heart. "Minnie," you say in a soft voice, and his face crumples, sending a spike of pain through your heart. "It's not wrong, it's just not...us, is it? Don't you want it to be gentle?"

Jimin sniffs, turning his head to the side, but not before you glance a tear tracking down his cheek. "I- Yeah, I like gentle. But Taehyungie-"

"Was Taehyung in love with the people he was having sex with?" you cut in to ask. "I don't want you to fuck me, Minnie, I want you to make love to me."

Sat on your lap, he looks so small, sniffling away. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," you coo, "don't think about how anyone else does it. Let's just do what feels good for us. You wanna do that?"

Jimin nods with a rueful pout, quietly leaning down so that he was lying on your bare chest, face tucked into the crook of your neck.

"Oh, sweetie," you murmur into the waves of his honey-blonde hair, a hand coming down to rub over his back. "We'll have all the time in the world when you get back to try new things if you want. I just want to make this one special for you, yeah? What do you wanna do, Minnie? Do you want to be on top or do you want to lie down?"

He shifts, relaxing within your embrace. When he speaks, you have to strain to hear it. "I- I thought maybe both of us lying down. Under the covers so it's comfy." He lifts his head back to meet your eyes. "Can we still face each other?"

You brush back his hair with a fond smile, nodding. "Of course. Do you wanna finish getting undressed and we can both get under the covers, hm?"

Your duvet is the thinnest possible one you could find, but even so, it feels like a furnace when the two of you curl up, lying on your sides to face each other.

Jimin seems considerably more calm and content with his setup, giggling as you plant kisses all over his face.

"Happy?" you ask, just to be sure, and Jimin nods decisively, eyes bright no longer with tears but with warmth and love. "Ready?"

He nods again, humming in confirmation, so you run a hand over his shoulder, down his side and dipping over his crotch to take a hold of him, being able to better see his pleasured expressions as you stroke him to full hardness.

Having his face so close, though, is too much of a temptation, and so you lean forward to capture his lips again, deeper this time, hooking a leg over his hips.

One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, and he sighs beautifully into your mouth. "So happy," he mumbles, and your heart leaps as his lips form the words.

Reaching between your spread legs to gather some wetness - which is more abundant than you were expecting, though you've been aching for stimulation down there for a while - you use it to slick Jimin's cock up, preparing him for an easier entry.

His breathing stutters with a hitched moan, already starting to shiver. You smile at his responsiveness, before focussing on lining him up, head dipping just slightly into you.

You can tell the exact moment Jimin realises he's inside you by the way he goes stock still, holding his breath in anticipation. "Still okay?" you confirm, and he mumbles the affirmative.

Unable to keep kissing as you push your hips down on him, you simply pant into his mouth, moaning as he fills you out.

The elegant upwards curve of his cock means that it presses along your top wall, making your thighs jerk when his tip hits your g-spot. "You're so good inside me, Minnie," you praise against his lips, groaning throatily when you finally take all of him, "do I feel good?"

He bites his lip with a whimper, hand on your hip moving to grasp clumsily at your ass cheek, like he wants to make sure he stays buried inside. "It's so tight," he gasps, "I- oh god, it's amazing, I love you so much."

You giggle lightly at his odd choice of timing on the love confession, inadvertently clenching around him which makes Jimin let out a stuttered high keen, curling inwards and jerking his hips to thrust shallowly.

You hiss in a breath, not expecting him to move so soon, but the feeling of being full, of it being Jimin hitting those spots inside you, is too addictive to stay still for much longer.

You start rutting against him in a slow rock, so that he doesn't quite slip all the way out of you before you grind back down, and his hand tenses on the meat of your ass, mouth falling slack.

With no urge to pick up the pace, you simply let Jimin and you enjoy the sensations of being connected on such an intimate level, nosing his chin back so that you can lap tenderly at the skin of his neck, picking a sensitive spot just above his collarbone to softly suck a reminder, something he can take back to Korea with him.

The thought of him leaving makes your heart sink, and to fill the void you begin to pick up your pace, building a delicious heat low in your stomach that has you moaning every breath. "M-minnie, I'm getting close, can you cum with me?"

"Y-yeah, I wanna cum. With- With you," he pants with a full-body shudder, hand leaving your ass to slide up to your back, pressing between your shoulder blades to hold you to him, gasping prettily into the air until you lift your head away from his neck to join your lips again, kissing him like it's oxygen.

You take the chance to slip a hand down and rub at your aching clit, and the extra sensation has you bearing down on him, causing him to start meeting your thrusts halfway.

Like a chain reaction, the pleasure between the two of you skyrockets until you meet your edge, toes curling and rocking needily against him, wanting to feel him fall apart too.

He cums with a high shout, gripping desperately onto your shoulder as he rides the intense waves, ebbing as you throb rhythmically around him with the force of your orgasm.

The two of you pant, mouths connected but too blissed out to properly kiss, and slowly your hips still, bodies wracked with aftershocks for a few minutes of nothing but the sound of you catching your breath.

Surprisingly, it's Jimin that speaks up first, eyes at half-mast as he nuzzles his nose against yours. "Can we stay like this? Sleep like this?"

In his vulnerable eyes, you read the fear of reality, of the fact that he's really leaving tomorrow. You can't say no to Jimin, never have been able to, but neither do you want to.

Instead, you simply press one last, tired kiss across his swollen lips. "Goodnight, Jiminie. I love you."

An almost inaudible sigh of relief. "I love you too."

--

It’s a day off.

That doesn’t mean you sleep in, though. You don’t know of a single person on the reserve that has been able to stay unconscious past sunrise without medical intervention. The chirps and calls of birds, buzzing of insects and drone of cicadas begins the moment the sun rises, sometimes even earlier, and while the cover of towering canopies filters out most of the light in the dense rainforest, the lodge camp is on an open meadow, and so you can’t avoid the heat that quickly sets in.

You’re happy to be up early, though, because you're waiting for someone.

You always take this time of the morning to sit on the porch and drink a cup of tea, but today is different. You've already set up the spare room with a blow-up mattress, keeping the two single beds pushed together in your room. The fridge is stocked thanks to an antsy trip to Quito yesterday, and all night you were filled with restless energy.

Now, though, a sense of calm washes over you like deja vu. A contented warmth that blooms inside you when you finish your hot tea, eyes on the far end of the campground where you can see two figures chatting back and forth.

You stand, but you don't rush over, knowing they'll come to you. The short blonde, paler after returning from Korea, and at his side, a taller, dark-haired figure. Even though you've never met this second man, you recognise the boxy smile he wears as he glances around the campsite in wonder. The same smile that you'd first seen in a framed photo in Jimin's room.

A hand on his friend's back, Jimin points out your cabin, his eyes finding yours, crinkling shut with the radiant beam that stretches across his face.

Home.

[amymel86]

WIP Wednesday!

hey-hey! It’s WIP Wednesday and as usual, I am unable to keep my writing to myself  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so here I am, here to foist my offering of more of my Zokla fic onto you good ppl. Part 1 here

I have a lot planned for this fic so lets see how much of it I manage to keep to myself, huh?

Beautiful graphic by the lovely @sanzuh​ <3

*elements of the story may change by the time I post on AO3, it’s still a WIP*

Which was worse? Gripping onto the hot, thorny scales even tighter as the monster screeches and beats its wings, carrying her away from the falling ground as they rise higher and higher or the approach of King’s Landing and the looming spectre of The Red Keep?

Air of the city sky whipped passed her face before they began to slow and descend. Her cousin’s arm tightened around her and she felt utterly helpless during her deliverance into enemy hands. The den may have been ripped from the jaws of lions and now lays in the clutch on dragons, but these walls are the same, they’ve witnessed the same sins, Sansa thought as Jon alights his Zokla and turns to help her down from the monster’s neck.

He says something to her but she is not listening. Long buried echoes of her girlhood rear their ghastly heads – of a golden prince and poison-smiled queen, of the flat edge of blades and gauntleted backhands swiping across her tender childish cheeks and the tears she would swallow down in public but later let wet her soft silk pillow.

There was a noise like the cracking of a dry branch. A sting bloomed fiercely across her palm before she truly realised what she had done. Her Targaryen cousin’s cheek was beginning to stain with a pink glow.

Dark-clothed guards rush forward, the movement making the grey dragon lower her huge head and growl defensively. Jon raises one hand, commanding his men to halt. There were already seven spears pointing in Sansa’s direction. Zokla growls again. “Shhh, bump. It’s alright girl,” he murmurs before turning back to his prisoner and the soldiers. Sansa stands defiantly, with weapons drawn upon her. She was ready for whatever punishment he might unleash upon her. She struck him across the face – an act most hostile and un-lady-like. And she would repeat it too, given half the chance. Pulling her spine straight Sansa wills her lip not to tremble as her cousin silently appraises her with his one good eye, the sting of his cheek burning beneath it.

How dare he? How dare he take her captive? Hasn’t she experienced enough of this? Hasn’t she been used? Hasn’t she been beaten? They can beat her again – he can beat her if he should wish to – she will show them that she is made of steel and ice – and stone. Stone that no dragon flame could melt. She will show him that the North does not kneel. Not truly.

Jon continues to make a map of her with his grey eye that flashes violet when the light catches it just so. One side of his lips lifts faintly. She is to try and win over this man – this Targaryen. She will have to reign in her temper to do it, but for now she will bathe in the satisfaction of having struck him. His gaze is torn away when one of the soldiers asks something in a foreign tongue, a spear jabbing in Sansa’s direction.

“Kesā daor ōdrikagon zirȳla!” Jon barks. You will not harm her!

“Ziry pryjatan ao, Morghe Vala.”  Sansa struggles a little with accent but she thinks she grasps it fairly faithfully. She struck you, Dead Man.

Sansa’s Valyrian ear will have be tuned if she’s to catch everything that’s being said.

“Lo nyke hen bony ōghar va zirȳla bartos ēza issare ōdrikagon kesīr, kessa sagon ao sīkuda bona kessa sagon morghe vali,” Jon hisses and all weapons are lowered. It took Sansa a moment to translate. If I find out that one hair on her head has been harmed while here, it will be you that are the Dead Men.

“Ñuha dārilaros!” Comes the call from across the huge courtyard. My Prince. Jon grunts. He winces as he hobbles a little on his injured leg and Sansa wonders if the annoyance is at the pain or the silver haired woman now approaching them. With one word barked at his men, they leave.

“No doubt you have heard of our Queen Daenerys,” Jon tells her in a low murmur so as to inform her of the woman approaching. He turns to greet her – his aunt. “Gaomagon emā naejot yne brōzā bona?” Must you have to call me that?  He does not take kindly to the lofty title of prince, then.

The woman smiles, ignoring his irritation. “Nyke zūgagon ao would daor sagon māzis arlī.” I feared you would not be coming back to us. Her silver-white hair was swept away from her beautiful face and held with pins that glittered with rubies like droplets of spilled blood on snow. Her black leather armoured dress was split-skirted and revealed deep crimson riding breeches that looked tough in material, like some sort of hide. The bodice of her dress seemed to be made of some kind of reptilian skin, with scales that crept around her small frame. She looked every inch the Targaryen and Sansa only just now realises that she must have been the rider on the red dragon, not Viserys as Lord Royce had summised.

Just then, Zokla caught Sansa completely off guard by swishing her great, muscular tail and almost wrapping it around her, as if to separate her from the two Targaryens. The move felt a little...  protective? Sansa held her breath, unsure of what to make of it.

Jon chuckles darkly and gives his monster’s huge shoulder a shove. “Bump! Tepagon zirȳla arlī.” Give her back. “Ziry's ñuhon, daor aōhon.” She’s mine, not yours. There was a remorseful rumble from deep within the dragon’s chest before her tail slithered away allowing Sansa to step forward, out from within the dragon’s embrace.

“Qilōni iksis ziry?” The silver queen glances her way before making the demand of her War General. Who is she? She did not seem pleased to see her nephew return with a prisoner.

“This-“ Jon says, holding out his hand for Sansa to take while she curtseys as though he were presenting her like a gift. Sansa did not accept his offer and instead bowed her head at the beauty. “-is Lady Sansa Stark,” he finishes with a slight smirk upon his lips as he watches her.

“Hardyng,” Sansa corrects with a sniff, noting the quirk of Jon’s brow before turning back to the dragon queen. Her heart had stumbled at hearing her Stark name once more but Harry is barely cold and not yet buried – Sansa has hardly had time to properly come to terms with his fate – she won’t be giving up his name just yet.  “Your Grace,” she acknowledges the silver-haired queen.

Startling violet eyes swept up and down her frame. “Skoro syt iksis ziry kesīr?” Why is she here? The queen looks to her nephew with demand and suspicion in her eyes. She did not seem pleased to find a Stark (Hardyng though she may be) within their midst.

“I invited her.” Sansa almost snorts at his reply. If this was an invitation, she wouldn’t like to witness his command. She had certainly been issued with no indication that she could refuse his ‘invitation’.  “And as our guest favours the common tongue, I should think it more polite that we use it.” He seems unaware that she is able to follow Valyrian if she concentrates enough. That is fine, Sansa thinks. It may be to her advantage for him to believe her ignorant of his words.

The queen presses her lips tightly together. “Dārys se Bloodwing issi ōdrikagon.  Dārys's tīkun iksis olvie quba,” she says, ignoring her general’s request for the common tongue. Dārys and Bloodwing are both injured. Dārys’s wing is badly ripped. Jon sighs and rubs at his forehead, his inaction seeming to frustrate his aunt. “Zirȳla people gōntan bisa naejot īlva zaldrīzes's!” she spits, giving Sansa a look of dark fire. Her people did this to our dragon's!

At that, Jon took it upon himself to shift – step between Sansa and his queen as he stares his silver-haired aunt down. The intent seemed clear though no words, neither Valyrian, nor common were spoken. Sansa could see his shoulders rise and fall with each steady breath. Peering over them, the dragon queen seems to be even more frustrated.

“Visērȳs kessa daor sagon biare naejot gūrēñagon zȳhon zaldrīzes daor sōvegon,” Daenerys ground out between clenched teeth. Viserys will not be happy to learn his dragon can no longer fly.

“Bisa iksis vīlībāzma, Daenērys,” This is war, Daenerys, Jon rumbles, his voice low and calm. “Gōntan ao pendagon konīr daorys jiōragon ōdrikagon?” Did you think there would be no casualties?

“Not our dragons,” Daenerys answers, violet eyes flashing over Jon’s shoulder to pierce Sansa. “Never our dragons,” she hisses, spinning to stride away, taking her queenly venom with her.

Jon takes in a large lungful and reaches out to pat at his Zokla. “Tolī, riña.  Nyke'll māzigon naejot ūndegon ao tolī.” Later, girl. I’ll come to see you later. He turns to face Sansa and offers his arm again only to drop it back to his side when he notes the defiant expression she grants him. “Come, Jaesa,” he says gruffly, calling her Goddess again and starting to stalk toward the keep while expecting her to follow. “Let’s get you washed up before we present you to the King.”

***

Her cousin escorts Sansa to rooms larger than those she had been imprisoned in before. If her memory serves her well, these had been poor little Prince Tommen’s when last she had been here at King’s Landing. Rumour has it that the little prince who had been a short-lived king grew so scared at the sight of the dragons coming for him, that he jumped from his window. Sansa glances at the shuttered windows now, shaking the awful rumour from her head. Besides, he was king at the time of the Targaryen invasion, he would not have still resided in these rooms, he would not have jumped from these windows, his plummeted death was not below her new prison’s views. Sansa cannot seem to think of Tommen as anything other than the chubby-cheeked boy who loved his cat. She knows it has been a few years since, and likely the roundness of youth had slipped from his face and hardened under the crown they put upon him, but Sansa will not try to amend her memories.

Arya loved to chase the cats here too.

That memory is sharp and stinging – just as biting as her strike to Jon’s face would’ve been for him. Sansa rubs a thumb into her palm as she tucks the memory of her sister away, wraps it in soft knitted fabrics and tells herself not to think that the last place she saw her alive was this wretched castle.

Her eye casts around. The rooms are fairly bare; looking positively naked without the swaths of crimson velvets with golden trims and emblems of lions – all the things she’d come to expect of Red Keep chambers from her time here under Lannister rule. They were meant to be stags, she thinks to herself, turning to see her cousin stood behind her with his ever-watching eye. And you are meant to be a dragon though you call your beast a wolf. Can you be swayed?

“Satin!”  he barks, though his eye never strays from her as he stands there, hands behind his back, observing her like she were a curious new species of creature. A comely young man with ink-dark ringlets appears as if he had been hiding within the very walls awaiting his master’s summons.

The servant’s dark eyes quickly take in the General’s injured leg. “Aōha kris!” Your leg!

“The common tongue, please Satin,” her cousin says, ignoring the young man’s concern. “We have a guest.” He nods his head in her direction.

‘Satin’, gives her a smile. “Apologies, my lady,” he says before sweeping into a low bow.

“Fetch Lady Sansa some water to bathe,” Jon commands.

“But... your leg-“

The manservant is cut off by a sharp turn of his masters head accompanied by a searing glare.

Satin sniffs and straightens, holding his poise perfectly. “Here? In your rooms?” To which, her cousin gives a stiff nod. Satin scurries off to do as he is bid.

That catches Sansa off guard. His rooms? What on earth does he mean by bringing her here.

Something twitches in her belly – a horrid spark of a thought.

He wouldn’t violate her, would he? She knows nothing of the Targaryens and even less of the particular one standing in front of her.

Her cousin approaches and Sansa stands strong with steel in her spine. If she is afraid, she will be damned if he’s to know about it. He’s standing close now, his skin and armour still coated in battle-grime; dirt, blood and sweat. His eye roams her face as Satin scurries back in, directing his under-servants with the bath tub and buckets. Jon does not move and Sansa wonders if he’ll ever look his fill of her. “You need not be afraid of me, cousin,” he murmurs low for only her ears. Sansa peers over his shoulder at the way the servants (save for Satin) skitter around like mice trying desperately to fulfil their master’s wish before they can flee again. They seemed afraid.

Swallowing, Sansa forces a smile. The worst kind of beasts can smell fear – it excites them. She does not know what sort of beast stands before her yet but she won’t let him get her scent. “Why have you brought me to your chambers, General?” she asks calmly as hot steaming water splashes into the tub by the hearth.

“They are yours now,” he says, “while you stay with us.”

“And where will you sleep?”

Satin makes an odd, amused snorting noise. Jon ignores it. “It is a big castle, my lady. I’m sure I will find somewhere to lay my head.”

That did not assuage her thoughts. She’s been in the position of prisoner before, she knows of many different ways captors treat their captives. Robb will gut you if you hurt me, she thinks, hoping it to be true. “I am well aware of how large the castle is,” she tells him dismissively, looking around, feigning disinterest. “There are far less golden lions than last I was a ‘guest’ here.”

Jon leans forward and tilts his head as he asks, “An improvement?”

Sansa catches sight of a new little serving mouse scurrying in and frantically whispering into Satin’s ear. Whatever he was told, it made his pleasant complexion turn pallid. She will have relearn all there is to know about the servants and the guards while she is here. To be informed is to be forearmed after all. There is just enough time for her answer before Satin approaches them. “An improvement? Perhaps. Though there may be a few too many dragons for my liking. I am yet to decide.”

Her answer earns a wry smile from her cousin before his manservant comes up to whisper in his ear, causing that smile to slide right off. “Ziry iksos rhēdan? Sir?” he asks, finally tearing his gaze away from Sansa. It’s started? Now?

“Kessa, istiti jikagon naejot zirȳla.” Yes, we must go to her.

Jon offers her quick glace before taking Satin by the arm and hauling him away, hissing, “Se skoros gaomagon īlon gīmigon hen ra? īlon daor dohaeragon zirȳla!” And what do we know of these things? We cannot help her. Satin shrugs out of Jon’s grip. There is a fury in his eyes when he squares up to his master with his reply. Sansa did not catch the words but she had never before seen a servant react in such a manner towards their lord. For half a moment, she believes she is about to witness a beating. Instead, she watches as her cousin growls some response and fishes out a small bag of coins. “Jurnegon syt dohaeragon.  Sindigon pōja lykemagon,” he murmurs, handing the coin to Satin. Find someone to help. Buy their silence. “Jikagon.” Go.

[insfiringyou]

BTS - A Chance Meeting (V & Ara)

Contains: Slight angst

*Alert for potential spoilers for fics not yet written in Jimin x Ara’s storyline*

Ara notices Taehyung sat alone in a quiet cafe and decides to stop by. 

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Content below the cut

Ara hesitated, before tapping lightly on the single-pane glass with her fingernails. She didn’t want to draw too much attention but was unable to stop herself from knocking. It was a surprise to see him after so long and she had double-taken in the street. His hair was a little longer, but that was expected. The last time he had just returned from the military and his short, closely-cropped cut made him seem more somber; years older than he was. Now it was back to a length she found more familiar but the dark, wispy suggestion of facial hair on his upper lip was new. He seemed lost in thought, sat in the back of the cafe with a small cup clutched between his fingers, staring into space. Despite her being gentle, the sound seemed to startle him and he looked up. Ara gave a tentative wave, hoping he recognised her. 

She tucked her fringe behind her ear, watching him pause before he raised his hand slightly in acknowledgement. Her bleached strands felt unfamiliar as she brushed the neck of her hair; the short, pixie cut still freshly blow-dried from the hairdressers that morning. She had asked Da-eun to do it for her but the young woman had refused, thinking she might get into some kind of trouble for it. Ara understood, after all, she had not yet spoken to her manager about a change in style.

Taking the plunge, she tucked her black purse beneath her armpit and walked around the corner to the entrance; the soft tinkle of a bell above the door signalling her arrival. She could not read Taehyung’s expression as she approached his table at the back of the small space but hoped she was not intruding. He was sat snugly behind a column which, luckily, seemed private. The cafe only had a small handful of customers but she looked around cautiously before joining in. 

“Hi…” She beamed, keeping her voice low. “I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?”

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “I’m good.” His tone gave nothing away, but after a moment he gestured to the spare chair opposite. “Do you want to sit down?”

She slid onto the seat automatically. “I can’t stay for long. I’ve got an appointment.”

He blinked a few times. “You’ve cut your hair.”

Her replying smile was bashful as her fingers moved in response to her fringe which had once more come untucked. “It was too warm in the heat. It’s much easier to maintain now.”

“It suits you.” He said coolly. 

There was a long pause between them, though it wasn’t awkward. She had grown used to these drawn-out silences, from the time he temporarily took lodge in her and Jimin’s apartment and when her boyfriend had left for the military. It would have been a lie to say she had gotten a lot from his company. He always seemed absorbed in his books as well as his thoughts, but there always seemed to be something he was holding back; an aura of mystery she couldn’t quite place and at odds with Jimin’s usual openness. But Taehyung was tidy enough and greeted her when she came home, so she hadn’t minded having him around. 

She found herself wondering what she could say to him. It seemed polite to stop and talk, but this chance meeting now reminded her how little she knew about his life now. Eventually, she spoke. “How’s the baby?”

The corner of his lips twitched in a vague smile. “Toddling.”

Ara was silent for a moment, only just realising it had been longer since she had seen him than she initially thought. “How old is he now?” She asked, voice open and inquisitive. 

He took a sip of tea; it’s aroma fragrant in the small space. She tried to read the label on the tag but couldn’t make it out. “Almost two.”

Her eyebrows raised in disbelief. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. I keep meaning to go and see Cassandra, but I wasn’t sure where she was now. Is she still in Seoul?” 

Taehyung nodded, putting down his cup. It made a soft, strangely comforting sound against the china saucer. “She’s in Gangnam. Do you have her number?”

She thought for a moment, before nodding with a frown. “If she hasn’t changed it. She was kind of hard to get hold of for a while.”

“Gabriel had colic.” He replied with a shrug, as though that explained the years of absence. Ara thought the explanation a little odd, but did not comment. 

“Did you choose the name?” She asked. 

“It just seemed right.” He quickly murmured, not entirely answering the question. Ara thought the reply seemed rehearsed, as though he had answered it many times. She wondered if his family had commented on it and whether he felt the need to defend the decision. Jimin had not spoken much about Taehyung’s family, and she herself had never heard them mentioned in conversation. All of a sudden she found herself hoping they had been supportive; not just for his sake but for Cassandra, whom she had known for so long. 

Ara forced the thought away. “I bet it sounds lovely when she says it. Cassandra always had the most wonderful voice.”

Taehyung looked up from his tea cup. “She still does.”

Her mouth opened, forming an ‘oh’, thinking she might have gotten it all wrong. Or maybe things had changed in the past two years. She approached the topic tentatively. “Are you two…?”

“No.” He confirmed. “But we make it work.” He quickly added.

Ara settled back in her chair; understanding. She gave a soft smile which she hoped didn’t come across as patronising. “I can tell you care about her a lot.”

“She’s the mother of my child, Ara.” He said quietly.

She sensed the sadness in his voice; a longing he couldn’t quite put into words and she nodded. “Of course.” She changed the subject lightly, seeing there was nothing else she could say on the matter of her old friend. “You should get in touch with Jimin. I know he wants to see you.”

He appeared to wince a little but recovered well. She almost hadn’t noticed. “You can tell him he’s welcome any time he wants. He knows where I live.” He murmured. 

Ara fell silent, realising he didn’t yet know. “You really haven’t seen him in a while have you?” She asked, before pressing on. “We broke up.”

He met her eyes across the table and she saw the shock in his expression. “When?”

“A few months ago.”

Taehyung was quiet, pensive, before he asked. “Was it mutual?”

She smiled sadly. “I think he needed it too. We still speak sometimes.”

The man opposite nodded in confirmation. “That’s good.”

Ara watched as he leaned forward to pick up the cup, looking downwards as he took the last few sips. She realised how lonely he looked; how the times she had come home to find him seemingly preoccupied masked the fact he didn’t seem to have anyone. His fans, she remembered, always thought him something of an enigma. She wondered now if that was truly it. 

“Have you thought about dating again?” She suggested, making sure to keep her voice down low, should anyone else hear. 

He didn’t look up from his cup. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know…” She trailed off, figuring out how best to word it. “Being in a relationship seemed to suit you.” She shrugged. It seemed silly now she said it out loud. “As far as I could tell anyway.”

“Cass has moved on.” He murmured, frankly.

Ara hesitated. “I meant with someone else.”

Taehyung’s eyes snapped up, meeting hers purposefully and she let out an unexpected giggle. 

“I didn’t mean me.” She confirmed, shaking her head. It felt strange without the usual brush of hair against her shoulders. She settled down, her laughter subsiding, and gave a long, dramatic groan, anticipating how pathetic she must sound. “I’m still trying to find myself.”

He looked back at the table, picking up a napkin and twisting it absently between his long fingers. “I don’t think I could have that again.” 

“You never know.” She easily dismissed.

His brows knitted together, creating deep, frustrated grooves in his forehead as he mumbled, glumly. “Maybe some people are only meant to be with one person.” 

Ara raised a questioning eyebrow. “You never dated anyone before Cassandra?”

Taehyung looked up once more, answering quickly. “That was different.” He sharply declared. “I was young.”

“You’re still young.” She said, deliberately gently, seeing he was hurt.

He grew quiet and shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. Ara feared she might have crossed the line and she tightened her grip on her purse, getting ready to leave before he suddenly spoke. “I wouldn’t even know where to meet someone.”

Her hands stilled and she relaxed. “Well…” She held out the palms of her hands. “What do you like?”

He met her gaze. “In a girl?” 

She shrugged. “Or a guy.”

Half-expecting him to question this, he surprised her by remaining silent, meditative; thinking deeply. She wondered if he knew about her. Perhaps Jimin had told him. 

“Someone sweet.” He eventually said. “Someone kind.”

Her lips curled, simpering. “Is that all?”

“I’m not that picky.” He stated. 

She couldn’t help but scoff. “You dated the most European girl in Seoul.”

“She’s only half European.” He contended, entirely missing the point. 

“You know what I mean...” Ara shook her head with a grin and sitting back, she reflected for a moment. “What about looks?”

“Personality is more important.” 

“You must have a preference?” She challenged, suddenly curious. 

Once again he fell silent and Ara found herself a little impressed at how seriously he was taking this. “Dark eyes...soft and sweet.”

“The kind of girl you’d bring home?” She questioned with a smirk. 

“Someone I could marry.” He stated, a little dreamily.

Ara nodded, amused. He sounded strangely serious. “I know just the girl.” She teased, an idea already forming in her mind. 

He looked at her; eyelashes heavy, giving him a sleepy look “How about you?”

She stretched in her seat, realising she hadn’t thought about it much before and was surprised he asked. Smiling to herself, she blushed. “Smooth skin. Nice lips.” She giggled in embarrassment, adding: “No stubble.”

“So Jimin?” He challenged. 

The corners of her lips turned up and she looked away, unable to help the way her heart still skipped a little at his name. “I don’t know…” She admitted, drifting off and watching from the corner of her eye as he reached into his pocket, searching for his wallet. She took the opportunity to flick through her phone, typing a name and bringing up a familiar social media account. She swiped through the pictures with her manicured thumb before finding one which showed the girl in question at a good angle. It was taken at a company event, and the dress she wore was uncharacteristically short. The other girls on the make up team had talked her into wearing it but Ara saw the way she had tugged on it incessantly all night, trying to cover her pale knees with the frilled hem. 

“What about her?” Ara held out the screen, showing him. 

Taehyung squinted at the picture. “Do you know her?”  

“She’s my stylist.” She confirmed before tucking the phone back in her purse and closing the magnetic clasp. “You’d like her, she’s sweet...and single.” She added.

“What’s her name?” He asked casually. 

“Da-eun.”

She thought he was going to ask more, but instead changed the topic. “Are you going back on tour soon?”

“Once the new album’s out, we still have a lot of work to do. I’m meeting the producers this afternoon.” 

“That sounds good.” He murmured, sounding a little tired. She sensed the conversation was drawing to a close. 

“Are you working on anything?” She asked politely. 

“I was thinking about it.” The other man shrugged indifferently. 

“I’m sure your fans would really enjoy it.”

“I’d be doing it for me.” 

The steely tone of his reply took her aback a little and she found herself recalling the news headlines in the days following the birth. “Even so…” She drifted off weakly and checked her watch before drawing her chair away from the table. “I’d better be going.” She murmured apologetically, getting to her feet. “It was really nice bumping into you.”

His eyes followed her as she gathered her belongings and extended the strap on the purse across her shoulder. “You too. Take care.”

“I will.” She smiled, tucking the chair neatly beneath the table and turning to leave. 

“Ara?” He called softly and she spun back. He was silent for a few seconds but she waited patiently. “Your friend Da-eun…” He seemed a little embarrassed. “You can give her my number.” Another pause. “If you like.”

It took her by surprise but she nodded in agreement. “I will.” She confirmed, giving a gentle wave. “Goodbye Tae.”

***

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[mycupoffanfiction]

The One

Coco Cruz x Reader

Summary: Coco turns you in a clumsy, shy mess every time he’s around and you just can’t quite find the courage to tell him how you feel, that is until your Mayan brothers drag you both to a funfair.

Warnings: Fluff, lots of shyness, Angel and Gilly trying to be wingmen, a brief mention of public sex acts.

Word count: Approx 2600

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, I’ve been working on this fic for months, but it was never quite right, but I loved it too much to scrap it, so I’m super happy to finally be able to share it with you! I did struggle with this a bit, so I apologise if it’s not super smooth, but hey 🤷🏻‍♀️ This is just the first part, the second part will be with you soon. Enjoy! 💖

“How the fuck are you winning again?” Gilly groaned, slouching in his chair opposite you as you placed down a card on the table, effectively winning the round of the card game you were playing. Giggling, you shrugged and crossed one leg over the other, looking rather smug with yourself. “You challenged me, remember?” You giggled, all too happy that you’d won another round. Gilly sighed and tilted his head back before gathering up the cards. “One more round?” He asked, handing you the cards to shuffle and you nodded, taking them from him.

Shuffling the cards, you were mid conversation with Gilly about how you wanted to go to the fair that had been set up just outside of town, when Angel and Coco entered the clubhouse. “It’ll be great, also, I don’t believe him, but Coco said he’d never had cotton candy before and-.” “He’s never what?” Gilly replied, incredulous, if not a little over dramatic and you giggled, shaking your head. “There’s your chance for a date, hermana, take ‘im to get cotton candy.” Gilly chuckled, nudging your hand with his, to which you protested with a drawn out, hushed ‘noooo Gilly’.

You were a dear friend to the club and all of its members, so much so that you were often titled ‘hermana’ since you had become a sister to most members, though some of them, notably Bishop had taken to calling you mija. But really, you kept everyone in the club grounded and you were greatly appreciated for your loving, sweet nature, despite the fact that you were horrendously clumsy and on more than one occasion had managed to run into people, drop everything and break things, not that anyone minded. But it always seemed to happen more prominently around Coco and the boys were beginning to notice it happen more frequently when you were around him.

“What are you two up to?” Angel asked, interrupting your thoughts as you shuffled the cards. “Just having a game.” Gilly replied, going on to tell Angel about how he’d totally won the last three rounds, to which Angel snorted in disbelief. It was another moment before you even realised that Coco was there, he’d not said a word, but you looked up to deal the cards between you, only to see him eyeing you over Gilly’s shoulder and you fumbled with the cards, some of the deck falling from your hands and spilling over the table and scattering everywhere while you attempted to keep them together.

“Oh jesus- fucking- hi Coco.” You managed to squeak out, Gilly trying so hard to contain his laughter as Angel gathered up the cards that had dropped to the floor and you felt the heat of embarrassment surge through you as you shuffled the cards back into a stack. “Hey corazón.” Coco responded with a light chuckle at your sudden bout of clumsiness and you felt yourself melt at the name he used for you, hoping it wasn’t too obvious how shy and embarrassed you were.

“I’ll get some beer.” Coco announced, throwing you a smile as he walked away. “How long is this gonna go on for? I can’t deal with you goin’ all butter fingers whenever you just fucking look at him.” Angel hissed, though he was far too amused by it all to actually be annoyed and you desperately wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Everyone knows you love him.” Angel told you and your eyes went wide. “I’m pretty sure even Coco knows.” He chuckled and you felt even more nervous about saying anything. “Shut the fuck up, man. Don’t listen to Angel, hermana.” Gilly said, lightly whacking him on the arm. “You gotta tell Coco-.” “Tell me what?” Coco cut in as he came back with some bottles and you slid down a little in your seat. “Oh, our little hermana here-.” “Thinks it’s ridiculous that you’ve never had cotton candy before.” Gilly interrupted Angel, kicking him under the table and you gave him a thankful smile before shooting daggers at Angel who looked far too pleased with himself. “What?” Angel asked, giving you a mischievous grin.

Coco just looked at you with a raised brow, evidently not believing it one bit and you quickly reached for your drink, hoping at the very least that occupying yourself with the bottle would distract you a bit. Coco lit himself a cigarette and toked it a couple of times before taking a full draw of his smoke, reaching for his beer.

“So what about that fair outside of town this weekend?” Gilly asked. “I’m down, I need a change of fucking scenery.” Angel nodded. “Coco?” Gilly asked as you took a sip from your bottle. He shrugged, looking at the two men with indifference. “Hey, c’mon man, remember last time with the photobooth?” Angel nudged him, winking. “Shut up, carnal.” Coco rolled his eyes, taking a puff from his cigarette as Gilly snorted. “The fabled tale of Coco gettin’ loco with not one, but two girls in a fuckin’ photobooth.” Angel said, speaking as if it was some kind of epic tale, when really, it was more of a half drunk escapade that Coco barely remembered a wink of, apart from maybe the tale end of a two girl blowjob.

“You comin’ hermana?” Gilly asked, completely changing the subject and you looked between the three men, giving them a look of uncertainty. “I don’t know guys, you’re just gonna abandon me in the teacups again.” You pouted, Gilly and Angel immediately erupting into laughter at the memory from last year.

Coco huffed as he listened to the conversation. He didn’t care about finding girls to have a little fun with at the fair, if anything, he was more interested in something else, not that he was going to make that known, especially not with Angel and Gilly around.

Coco leaned over, draping his arm around the back of your chair. “I’ll go if you go, corazón.” He whispered in your ear and you instantly felt yourself burn up from his close proximity and the way he said those words, deep, enticing, but somehow still sweet and soft. Angel and Gilly too were far too wrapped up in retelling stories of their last trip to a fair to pay any attention to Coco’s actions and you swallowed heavily, glancing shyly across at him, the Mayan much closer than you had anticipated and as you faced him, eyes almost too timid to meet his, your breaths mingled for a moment with how closely he had leaned in.

“I’ll go.” You responded quietly, voice barely audible, but Coco heard you just fine and your response prompted a big, lopsided smile on his lips and you wondered how you’d even mustered the courage to respond.

“See you there, corazón.” He smirked, leaning back to take the last sip of his beer before he stood up from the table abruptly enough to get the attention of Angel and Gilly.

“Gotta go, got shit to do with Letty.” He said, putting his bottle down on the table. “See you later ‘mano.” Angel waved him off, Gilly eyeing your flustered state and giving you a questioning look as you attempted to pull yourself together.

“You alright hermana?” He asked. “Probably.” You nodded, clearing your throat a little and shifting in your seat, uncomfortable under the questioning looks you were getting from both men before you finally decided to awkwardly say goodbye to your brothers and excuse yourself from the table.

“Tell me I wasn’t the only one who saw that?” Gilly hissed at Angel. “Nah man, I saw the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her.”

The next day was far too quick to come around and by the time you’d rocked up to the fun fair on the back of Gilly’s bike, you felt like the last day had slipped away from you far faster than you would have liked. It wasn’t that you weren’t looking forward to spending the day with your boys, you were so excited to spend some time with them away from the MC. But your apprehension came more from being afraid that you might fuck things up with Coco. What if you told him how you felt and he rejected you? What if he avoided you? That would crush you, but while you had been nervous about admitting feelings to Coco, all of your brothers knew that the two of you would be perfect together, which was why they were adamant on pushing you both together despite your often silent panic when they did so.

It was early evening as you walked with Gilly over to where Angel was standing in the parking lot, leaning against his bike, waiting impatiently for you both.

“You’re gonna tell Coco today, right?” Angel asked before he even greeted you, pushing away from his bike before approaching you and Gilly. “Oh yeah, it’s real nice to see you too Angel.” Gilly replied in a sarcastic tone, making the taller of the two snort in response. “But you’re gonna, right?” Gilly joined in, turning to look at you as you glanced at the two bikers who stared at you expectantly. “I mean… Maybe?” You answered, hoping it was enough to get them off your back about Coco, but it only seemed to make it worse because Angel was adamant a plan he’d come up with for how you should tell Coco was ‘fool proof’, whatever that implied.

“We’re meeting Coco in the fair, he’s late.” Angel informed you both as Gilly began to lead the group of you across the parking lot towards the entrance booth. “Club shit?” Gilly asked. “Nah, somethin’ to do with Letty.” He shrugged.

You stood with a grin on your lips as you watched Gilly and Angel playfully banter between them as they waited to have a go at winning something at a booth with water pistols and targets.

As you watched, you almost jumped out of your skin when you felt two hands gently grip your shoulders and you barely had time to react before you heard his deep, low voice, quickly relaxing you. “Whoa, relax corizon, s’just me.” Coco spoke softly in your ear. “Coco,” You looked over your shoulder at him with an uncontrollable smile, the biker coming round to your side, his arm staying around your shoulders.

“Sorry I’m late, was making cake with Letty.” Coco told you with a smile. “Don’t tell Angel that.” He added, making you giggle and shake your head. “I won’t, your secret is safe with me.” You replied, voice quiet and soft. Coco looked over at you, his grip on your arm tightening slightly as he caught your gaze, noting how relaxed you looked, how relaxed you felt against him and it brought a warmth to his heart to see you that way.

Angel glanced over his shoulder at Coco and the pair nodded at each other in a silent greeting, Angel smirking as soon as he saw you tucked against Coco’s side with his arm around you before he turned his attention back to the game when it was his and Gilly’s turn.

“Wanna go do shit without those two?” Coco asked. “Gonna have another headache if I gotta babysit them.” He rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, I’d like that.” You nodded, letting Coco tug you along with him.

Coco walked you through the fairground, stopping by stalls and booths along the way to play a few games, his smile always doubling in size whenever he heard you giggle, noticing you enjoying yourself in his company. Coco had wanted to spend time with you and talk to you for a while, but no matter how hard he tried, one of the Mayans always seemed to drop themselves into the conversation before he even had a chance to try and ease you out of your shell and give you his full, undivided attention.

And now, as you both found yourself on the furthest side of the fairground, overlooking a beautiful sunset in the distance with a bag of candy floss in Coco’s hand that he shared with you.

It was such a sweet moment, calm and dreamy, the ambience of funfair was soft in the background, the soft, golden glow of the sunset gently casting over the desert horizon.

Coco looked over at you, bathed in golden light, gorgeous with a soft smile on your lips. He felt himself smile uncontrollably as you leaned against his side, his hand finding yours, fingers slowly and gently intertwining.

It felt right, it felt like it was meant to be in the sweet, serene moment you shared together and Coco knew right then and there that he’d found the one for him. You were the one.

“Coco,” It came out as a whisper, warmth filling you when you realised how naturally your hand had fit in his, how wonderful his touch felt against yours. “Yeah, corazón?” He asked, barely above a whisper, his voice low and warm against your ear as he leaned against you.

“I… I’m-.” You cut yourself off with a sigh, eyes cast down at your feet, trying to hide yourself, the feeling of shyness overcame you.

“Hey, take your time, mi estrellita.” Coco hummed softly to you, his voice soothing as you drew in a deep, slow breath. But when you became too shy to respond, he smiled, bringing your hand up to his chest, prompting you to look at him, a bit too timid to hold his gaze fully. “Look at me, mi corazón.” Coco whispered, reaching over to lift your chin with his fingers.

You shared a comfortable moment of silence together, your hand resting against his chest, the background chatter and laughter of the fair adding to the ambience, the sun slowly lowering just enough to leave you bathed in a soft, hazy twilight.

“I know, I know that every time you look at me, you get shy.” Coco said, watching as you tore your gaze away from him quickly. “Hey hey, wait, hold on corazón.” He urged, tugging you back to him gently. “But I get butterflies every time I look at you, I get this fuckin’ uncontrollable smile whenever I see you lookin’ at me ‘cause fuck, ma, you drive me crazy.” He smiled to himself, his eyes lighting up as he spoke openly about how he felt.

“It drives me fuckin’ crazy whenever I think about you, I think ‘bout all this shit I wanna do with you, shit I’ve never wanted to do with anyone before.” He confessed, both of his hands holding yours to his chest as he spoke and you couldn’t help but look at him and wonder if you weren’t just dreaming. “Really?” You managed to get out. “Yeah, I can’t get’chu outta my mind.” Coco grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of your hands.

“I wanna take you on a date, wanna make you happy in every way I can, in every way possible ‘cause you deserve nothin’ less.” He paused, drawing in a deep breath before his eyes met yours. “Will you let me do that? Will you let me make you my girl?” He asked softly, watching as you smiled, shyly nodding, a little taken aback by his sweet words.

“I’d love that, Coco.” You said, almost in a whisper, but Coco met you with a bright grin before he leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Mi estrellita.” He whispered, pulling you against his chest and holding you close, embracing you gently, his heart fluttering, feeling on top of the world, because Coco got his girl.

He found the one.

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[aomine-ryo]

GoM going w their s/o to an attraction park and her wanting to ride all the highest, fastest rides OwO

I hope you like this!! xx

Headcanons: GOM going to an attraction park with their s/o

Kuroko

He surprisingly loves the thrill of a good, fast rollercoaster

So he’d totally be ready to join you on those

You were also looking forward to hearing some type of frightened scream, but strangely enough, he would just giggle like a baby whenever there was a huge drop

“Why were you laughing up there, you weirdo?” you asked him when you got off the ride

“I don’t know, I just found your screams really cute,” he shrugged, trying to fix the mess of hair on his head, though it was useless because it seemed to do as it pleased

Whilst he did love rollercoasters, he absolutely despised the types of rides that would spin you around or flip you in some sort of way

They just made him nauseous and dizzy

But of course, you were immediately drawn to those types of rides as well

“Y/N, I will actually throw up if I go on that ride,” he told you

“Don’t be over dramatic, you haven’t even eaten anything today,” you insisted, dragging him along with you

Unlike the giggles on the rollercoasters, Kuroko was eerily silent throughout this ride that flipped you upside down

He was gripping onto your hand for dear life

As promised, once you got off the ride, Kuroko beelined for the nearest trash can where he began to throw up

“Oh my god Tetsu! You really weren’t kidding, huh?” you said, softly chuckling as you rubbed his back

“I warned you,” he said hoarsely once he felt like he got it all out of his system

“Okay okay, I learned my lesson. Let’s just take it slow for some time alright?” You suggested, running your fingers through his hair in attempt to comfort him and simultaneously fix the mess

After about an hour of going on the slower and more tame rides, which was fun because it allowed you two to cuddle up together, you returned to the speedy rollercoasters

It was a 10/10 experience though, minus the part where Kuroko threw up (though it was kinda funny)

Kise

When you suggested a date at a theme park, Kise assumed that you wanted to relax on all the calm and slow rides

However, once you got there, you immediately pointed at the highest and biggest rollercoaster with an eager look in your eyes

“Let’s go there first!” you said excitedly, grabbing onto Kise’s hand to take him there

Kise just stared at it wide-eyed, “Y/N-cchi, that looks pretty fast. Are you sure you’re not scared?” he asked, hoping that you’d reconsider going on it

“I wanna go on it because it’s fast, dummy. Come on,” you replied, pulling him along with you

He put up a brave front whilst in line for the ride

But the moment he got into the seat, he was practically shitting himself

As the rollercoaster slowly made its way up to its highest point, Kise’s grip on your hand tightened to the point where you felt like he was gonna crush it

“Oh my god oh my god Y/N-cchi we’re gonna die,” he muttered frantically

“Ryouta we’re not gonna die,” you laughed, finding the way he clung onto you kind of cute

“No no, we will,” he said, barely able to keep his eyes open as the rollercoaster came to a halt at the top, “I just want you to know that I love you and I’m glad that I met you,” he blabbered, making you laugh even more

It seemed like he was going to say more, but then it dropped, and all you heard was his deafening screams

After a few more loops and drops where Kise hung onto you for dear life, the ride finally ended

“That wasn’t that bad,” Kise exhaled when you exited the ride

“Ryouta, you screamed so much that I think my left ear has gone deaf,” you glared at him

“I was just screaming for fun- not out of fear,” he lied

“Well, I guess you don’t mind going on more rides like that then,” you shrugged, grinning at him

He took a nervous gulp before nodding, “Yeah totally.”

The two of you ended up going on more rides after that, and Kise continued to act tough after each ride after screaming like a child in every one

“Pfft, that one wasn’t even scary.”

“Babe, you’re literally still hugging me.”

Midorima

Listen, he just wants a relaxing afternoon where you two walk around, eat some overpriced food and go on a few pleasant rides

But that wasn’t gonna happen on your watch

“We’re going on all the rides!” you said excitedly as you waited in the queue to enter the park

“Even the fast ones?” Midorima asked, slightly worried

“Especially the fast ones!” you beamed

His horoscope wasn’t particularly bad that day so it didn’t take too much convincing to get him on the rides because he just put his faith in the fortune

You can’t die if your horoscope is good that day right?

He wasn’t sure if he should be glad that he was meant to be taking his glasses off or more worried

Needless to say, he gripped onto your hand as tight as he could

He was surprisingly very silent during the ride

Granted, all he could see was a blur

But turns out that his silence was a result of the fear he felt

“See, that wasn’t that bad, you didn’t even scream once,” you said cheerily when you walked out of the ride

“Well that was probably because I couldn’t see anything,” he said, not letting go of your hand for a second, even after he regained his vision

In the end, the two of you ended up going on all the rides, but only revisite the slower ones because you didn’t cause any more distress to your poor boyfriend

Besides, it was much nicer holding his hand when he wasn’t crushing all its bones

Aomine

This boy would put up this tough front the entire car ride there, but you saw right through him

“I probably drive faster than those rollercoasters- I don’t see why people are so scared,” he scoffed

You just replied with a condescending hum, knowing that the second the ride starts, he’d be screaming his ass off

“Y/N, if you’re scared you can hold my hand, I’ll protect you,” he said smugly as he buckled up

“I feel like I should be the one telling you that,” you responded, getting more and more impatient for the ride to start so that you can watch him eat his words

Just like you predicted, he did not react well to the speed of the ride

But it was so much funnier than you could ever expect

The ride was slow at first as it inched towards its peak and Aomine grew more nervous the higher it went, but he didn’t show it

Well, that was until it dropped

“OH MY FUCKING GOD WE’RE GONNA DIE!!!!” he screamed, and you were sure the entire park heard him

Poor kids down below were horrified by the use of the profanities

Meanwhile, you could barely breathe because you were laughing so much

You couldn’t even see much because Aomine was clung onto you and his big head was all up in your face

Once you finally got off the ride that was Aomine’s hell on Earth, he was completely silent and you just stared at him, waiting for some sort of explanation before you began to tease him

“Hey, remember before the ride, when you said ‘I don’t see why people are so scared’?” you started, grinning wider than ever, “I’m inclined to believe that you see why now; it’s just a hunch though.”

Aomine glared at you as he groaned, “Shut up Y/N.”

You didn’t shut up

You managed to get him to go on a few more of those kinds of rides though, and he still tried to act tough every time

And he’d always end up screaming

And of course, you didn’t fail to bully him over it for the longest time after that

Murasakibara

Whilst he might complain about the excessive walking, he loves attraction parks

Churros, rollercoasters and spending time with you? It was pretty much the ideal way to spend his day

Furthermore, he has the mind of a child so all the rides and attractions sparked this tremendous excitement within him

He definitely prefers the more relaxing rides though because it gives him a chance to unwind and cuddle up next to you

But he also likes the faster rides too, so you didn’t need to do too much convincing to get him on them

He often has to tie his hair up before he goes on them though because it always just ends up getting in his eyes

(And yes he looks extremely hot when he does so)

He’s actually really unbothered by the speed and height of most of the rides

He’s the kind of guy that would try to have a conversation with you during the ride because he’s just not fazed by it at all

“Y/N-chin, it’s quite windy today isn’t it?” he says calmly as everyone around him hollers in terror

So most of the time it was you screaming and clinging onto his arm out of fear

Which he didn’t mind at all; he found it cute

Towards the end of the day, your feet were exhausted so the two of you decided to just sit on a bench and people-watch as you munched on some crepes

And when he took the first bit of that sweet delicacy, he literally could not get any happier than he was in that very moment

Akashi

Okay so, he kinda lacked a proper childhood so going to the attraction park with you would probably be his first time there

So you suggested going on the faster rides first and he didn’t seem to be opposed to it

He didn’t exactly know what to expect though

“They’re just fast moving trains, how fun could they be?”

He would hold your hand the entire time without even realising it out of the nervousness of not knowing what would happen

It was definitely strange to see Akashi Seijuro acting so vulnerable but it was still very precious

However, what was even stranger was to see him begin to holler in excitement during the ride

It took you by surprise because it was so out of character that you could barely even pay attention to the ride

Hearing Akashi’s normal firm and calm voice let out a cheery “Wooooh” was an experience

“Sounded like you really enjoyed that, Sei,” you giggled once the rollercoaster came to a halt

“Yes, it was actually extremely thrilling. Can we go on more rides like that?” he said, eyes full of a child-like excitement

“Of course we can,” you replied, feeling your heart warm up at how happy he seemed to be

And so, the two of you made sure to visit every single ride in the park so that Akashi could get the full experience

He even dragged you along to revisit some of his favourites as well

He was truly grateful that you suggested coming here because it was like he was catching up on an amazing experience he missed out on as a child

After that day, you two made it a priority to visit an attraction park at least once every few months and it became a kind of cute tradition that you always looked forward to