#while saying they all have almond eyes and making a motion of pointed eyes

[romanticmoonchild]

Today a white coworker said that “all Asians and Mexicans look alike”. I pointed out saying that is racist and she said that “she’s just stereotyping. It’s like saying there’s nerds and jocks and rednecks when you’re in high school”. Then had another white coworker asked if it was really racist to say that.

[raainberry]

Record and Rewind - II

« Photographic film is a chemically reactive material that records a fixed or still image when the film is exposed to light. »

fem!idol x gn!reader

Fluff

synopsis - while on one of your many solo adventures, your signature scent unexpectedly draws in the love of your life to you

word count - 2.2K words

TW - Light Cussing (censored)

A/N - Decided I’d make this into a series, I’m having too much fun writing it. Thank you to everyone who read part.1, I really appreciate it and I hope you like it. Also, the perfume in question in this story is heavily inspired by Wakeheart perfumes, check them out. They discontinued the perfumes, but they make nice candles now.

“Do you carry your own perfume around often?”

The woman asked as you came back from the igloo, bottle in hand and the piece of paper in the other.

“Always. You never know.” You simply answered, taking the place you occupied earlier.

“If you ever get asked about it?” She guessed, searching for your eyes as you motioned for her to give you her wrist.

“Exactly.” You smiled.

Not to her, but to yourself.

Or at least that’s what it looked like. Either way, she had caught it, and the sight pleased her enough for her to do the same.

“Is this the first time someone asked you for a sample?” She wondered as you sprayed her skin with the fragrance that had pulled her to you.

“The third.” You answered simply yet again before diverting the attention away from you and to the sample. “So what do you think?”

The woman chuckled, almost amused by your bluntness.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” She pointed out, glancing at your hands as they folded a piece of paper around.

“Not really.” You affirmed, staring at the ground after a soft chuckle slipped past your lips.

“What a shame. Your voice is really nice.” She said truthfully.

She usually wasn’t a fan of deep voices, but the tone of your voice simply sounded pretty to her ears. The way you were so calm and took your time with your words, it seemed to act as a softener. It was almost calming if her heart wouldn’t pick up the pace in anticipation of said words.

“Thank you.” You said, a shy smile making its way to your lips before you continued, against her expectations. “Better than yours?”

You’d think she’d be surprised by either your comment or the fact that you flirted back despite your attention seemingly being elsewhere—if not by both.

Well, she was.

Everyone has a way with words—whether it be bad or excellent, or fighting somewhere around average— and while your words were scarce… your level was starting to manifest in the better half of the scale, to the woman’s delight.

She was loving it.

“Could be. All I’m gonna say is I’m glad we’re not co-workers.” She joked, unknowingly leaving the person beside her confused.

You had no clue as to what she was possibly referring to, but you didn’t want to ruin whatever was going on.

As ironic as it sounds, you knew when to shut up.

So you simply went with the flow, as you’ve done all your life, and spoke what was certainly the most words she’d heard you say at once so far.

“Then would it be okay for me to address you by name?”

Her eyes snapped up, and her breath caught in her throat when they actually met your gaze.

Seemed like you had let go of the fiddling for further effect.

The quiet ones, she thought. Always all or nothing.

It worked wonderfully.

“You’d have to talk to me a bit more.”

You smiled. You liked a bit of challenge.

“What do you want to know?” You complied, making her smile.

“What did you put in your perfume?” She asked, curious.

“Vanilla, coffee blossom, almond and pink pepper.” You revealed with a smile.

The woman raised her eyebrows at the last ingredient.

It was surprising, but after the last couple exchanges? Its presence made perfect sense. This whole confection made perfect sense, no wonder you considered it as your signature scent.

She brought her wrist to her nose, identifying each of the notes you’d mentioned.

“Have you named it?” She asked.

“The fragrance?” You said and she nodded, humming.

“Conscience Conversations.”

The woman smiled, “Very pretty. Any meaning behind it?”

You shrugged, your gaze now becoming evasive. “Just… the connection to your inner voice.”

“That’s what inspired it?” She guessed, trying to keep your focus on her, and you nodded. “How?”

She sure was curious.

Usually, this was the part where you would tap out of the conversations your perfume usually issued, as it touched on something quite dear to you.

This time though, you didn’t feel that urge to run away. Instead, you felt somewhat happy to open up, although still feeling shy.

Judging on your conversation so far, she seemed like she’d appreciate what you had to say on a deeper level than simply “discovering the secret” behind your choice of scent.

So you tried to put your work into words.

“I just think it’s important to stay in touch with our conscience, our inner voice while going through life, and self-discovery.” You explained, your eyes and focus having returned to the piece of paper in your hands. “This scent is just my way to not only stay in touch with mine, but for the one of those around me to get an idea too.”

Well, it certainly was speaking to her, unlike someone else…

That d*** piece of paper. It was going so well…

Never had she thought she would ever feel jealous of such a ridiculous thing. Yet there she was, glaring at your hands as frustration built up in the back of her mind.

The front was too busy figuring this stranger out.

“What’s your consience telling you right now?” She tried to get your attention back.

Let’s try speaking your language, she thought.

It startled her.

For what?

At that point she wasn’t even sure what she was seeking anymore.

All these wonders she kept voicing out… They seemed to be caught up in between far too complicated feelings for someone she’d met a mere moment ago.

All she wanted at first was your perfume. Now it was as though she was looking for answers to questions she hadn’t even asked.

Your muted gaze, along with the power your few words could hold triggered a part of her she never knew about. One that felt too curious for her own sanity.

She was slowly losing her mind every time it was your turn to speak.

Just like now.

You stayed silent as she looked for your eyes once more, daring you to answer as if she knew exactly what you were thinking.

You would think they were any help with how much she looked for them, but as much as she found them attractive, that was about all she could get out of them.

“Are you going to listen to it?” She spoke up after a while.

If you’d lost interest, her question seemed to have gotten it back despite your defying silence.

You finally looked at her again, that grin of yours making a long awaited appearance.

“I already have.”

She nearly whined in frustration.

How were you so secretive yet so open at the same time?

She could feel the tension building despite your seemingly careless attitude. Or was it within herself? Was she going crazy?

So many questions left unanswered, yet her mind remained after one thing and one thing only.

She couldn’t name it for the life of her, yet she could bet her life that it would feel liberating to discover what it was; more than anything else at that moment.

“What do you mean you already have?”

You took a breath in, glancing back down at your hands to place one last neat fold before finally giving her all your attention.

Now that she had gotten what she wanted, she didn’t really know what to do. She felt hypnotised, unable to look away in fear of you taking it all back.

She almost couldn’t handle it.

“I like to think our inner voice expresses our deepest desires.” Your started, and her mind held onto your words to keep her from fainting out of frustration. She knew by now that she’d get the answers to her questions. She just desperately wished she didn’t have to concentrate so hard to get them.

“Giving into them or not is what builds us as a person. My best memories come from listening to it. Not questioning it.”

The woman’s eyebrows had never been so furrowed, her mind experiencing levels of confusion she had never even approached prior to that night.

Not because of your words.

No.

It was because of the piece of paper you handed her once you’d gotten them all out.

The same one she had been envying for the past few minutes.

It was a rose. A paper rose. A really well done one.

An origami, she chuckled mentally. You were making an origami this whole time.

For her.

It all suddenly made her feel a bit stupid. Feeling jealous over something that inherently was about her… It definitely was in the top ten of the most ridiculous moments of her life.

She would probably feel embarrassed if the urge to ask another question didn’t overpower the feeling.

“What kind of memories?” She managed to get out, completely ignoring the last of your words as her eyes found yours again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “Is that what you want to find out?”

This time, she was the one to stay silent.

Her gaze dropped to the origami sitting on your palm.

She wondered, finally taking it into her own.

What does it mean?

She met your gaze once more.

That faint, innocent smile tugged on your lips again. She could feel it taunting her, but even that wasn’t enough to distract her.

A small, yet freezing breeze softly carried a few strands of your hair along as it brushed past the two of you.

The sudden cold sent shivers across your bodies, the feeling jolting you awake and preventing you from getting lost in the other’s eyes.

She was thankful for it, as she refused to break the contact, desperately searching for the answer you seemed to hide from her.

“Just give in.”

You were temptation itself.

She could feel what she was looking for.

It was within reach.

“Or would your conscience only be at ease knowing my name first?”

She felt her eyes slip down to your lips.

Finally.

So why the sigh in defeat?

“I can’t.”

Your faint smile turned into a true grin.

Quite the sight to see in her opinion. She would have appreciated it far more if she wasn’t feeling so… dazed?

“As you wish.” You accepted.

She scoffed at how little this all seemed to affect you.

“You’re something else.” She mumbled.

That only made you laugh, further proving her point.

“I hear that a lot.” You shrugged. “Mostly from my mom.”

She couldn’t help but laugh with you. At least it ended on a lighter note.

Otherwise she didn’t know if she could have handled processing the emotional weight she’d just experienced in such a short amount of time.

“I’m not even gonna follow up on that.” She said.

“It’s nothing crazy, but it is a smart choice.” You shrugged. “A bit of mystery never hurt.”

“You have too much, that’s the problem. I still don’t know your name!” She vented.

“I don’t know yours either and I asked first.” You argued, causing her to bite her lip as she took a second to rewind your conversation.

That’s when she realised you might have no idea who she was after all…

“Right.” She admitted. “My name is idol!name.”

You smiled.

It’s a pretty name, you thought.

“I’m Y/N.” You revealed, making her smile.

“It’s a pretty name.” She complimented.

“Thank you.” You smiled back, a bit shy.

The sight surprised her more than it amused her this time.

It was quite the contrast to what she had just witnessed to say the least…

It was almost endearing.

“Well, it was nice meeting you.” You said, breaking the small silence that had settled as she briefly studied your features.

“What, that’s it?” She asked, a bit taken aback by your words, and quite frankly, a bit offended by the fist bump you were offering. “You’re not even going to try to keep in touch?”

“What?”

You hesitantly brought your hand back down to your side, confused.

Oh, how the tables had turned.

She sent you a warm smile, which was quickly contrasted by her words.

“I know I said I can’t, but I didn’t say I didn’t want to…” She trailed off. “Can I have your number?”

You smiled at her question.

“You already have it.”

Cue the roles reversing yet again.

She squinted her eyes at you in confusion, and you nodded to the flower in her hand.

Her gaze dropped down to look at it, studying it before noticing the numbers in black ink on the flat base.

Her jaw dropped. Not to the ground, but enough to make you laugh and the sound made her look back up at you.

“Your friends aren’t very slick, but tell them I say thank you. If it weren’t for them I probably wouldn’t have noticed you staring.” You explained.

She was speechless. A blushing mess as a familiar flutter made itself known in her chest, all while feeling embarrassed about her and her friends’ behavior over dinner.

However, that didn’t compare to how mindblown she was. The whole time she thought she was making the first move. Fighting for your attention when she had it before she even spoke to you…

“Wait, here.”

Your voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she watched as you grabbed the bottle from your pocket, spraying the paper flower with your perfume.

“Since you seem to like it so much.” You smiled, a hint of shyness adorning your crinkled eyes.

She could only stare at you, still struggling to even think properly, and only managing to process your words.

She had to fight for them just minutes ago, and now you just kept throwing them at her, somehow swaying her everytime.

“You don’t have to use my number. Just think of this as me giving you what you wanted when you came to me.” You said, not wanting her to feel any pressure.

As much as you enjoyed it, yourself was a bit stunned by this encounter. It would probably take you days to recover.

You liked to imagine it was the same for her.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just give me the bottle?” She finally spoke up, and you laughed.

“Sure. But it wouldn’t be as cute. Do you want it though?” You asked, handing it to her, but she shook her head, gently pushing it down.

“I think I’ll stick to the classic and use your number. Seeing you might last me longer than the bottle.”

[look-at-the-soul]

You asked babe to bring you something from your favorite coffeeshop. Did they get your order right?

I love you a latte ☕️

The strong smell of butter woke him up early, he knew you had been up at least one hour ago even before the sunrise.

After stepping out of the bathroom he picked the clothes he wore the previous day from the floor and silently made his way out of the house.

It was probably a ten minutes walk to the park where a food truck was turned into a coffee truck, your favorite spot to take the kids and enjoy a sunny day. The small business was run by a young couple who were trying to make extra money to pay for their wedding.

“Hey Emmett! Morning.”

“Morning!” He smiled and then noticed Cia arranging the pastries. “Hello Cia.”

“Emmett! It’s good to see you around, did you and your wife bring the kids to the park?”

“No, she’s working there’s a big party tonight and she got a request for a huge batch of cookies.”

“Ow say hello from me, the usual?” She asked with a smile.

“Please.”

“Right away, big latte, almond milk, blonde espresso with two pumps of toffee nut and-“

“One pump white mocha.” Emmett finished his wife’s order.

After a lifetime he finally learned to ask for your order correctly. And he knew it wasn’t so hard to remember.

Paying attention was one of the best way to show you care. To him it was the smallest things that count the most.

“Can I ask you for a regular coffee for me, please? The leftover cookies will be enough sweet for the rest of the weekend.”

“Sure thing.” Cia gave him a nod, they were regular costumers.

“And I’ll take one vanilla eclair for her, she loves that.”

“Her cookies sold out yesterday, she’ll probably get a few calls later.”

Emmett smiled pleased with his wife’s business, she made all kind of cookies from the simplest to the most complex, last week she was busy all weekend baking a huge quantity for the schools return.

Waving the couple goodbye Emmett returned home.

“Oh hi!” You smiled beautifully towards your husband.

Placing your cup on the kitchen island, Emmett leaned down to kiss your lips.

“Morning beautiful, coffee?”

You hummed against his lips, hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders and then up, to run your fingers through his long curls.

“Best way to start my day, thank you Emm.”

“Will I be your official helper again?” He asked referring as the last time you made him wash his hands three times to help you pack each cookie in a bag.

“Of course!” Taking a sip, you closed your eyes at the contact. “Hmm, perfect.”

The kiss that followed was interrupted by the loud cries from the baby sitting on the bouncer.

“Little Miss Harper what’s the matter?” Emmett wiped the tears from her eyes.

“What’s this?” You asked taking the paper bag, finding soon the answer. “Eclair! Love you lots.”

Emmett saw you enjoying the pastry and he playfully pointed at the corner of your lips, pointing at some crème, pulling you by the chin he kissed right on it tasting the sweetness on your lips.

“You’re the best husband.” You praised as your eight month old hid her little face on her daddy’s neck. “Look! These are the autumn cookies I’ll be selling this season.

He loved to see you being in your element, doing what you loved the most.

“Is there a sneak peek for me?” He asked tickling his daughter.

“Of course, you’re my favorite client.” You winked, bringing one of the cookies to his mouth.

He praised the flavor and shook the crumbs from his shirt just as your sons stormed into the kitchen.

“Can we have some cookies now?” Raylan stood on his toes, eyeing the cookies. “Oww they’re pink.” He wrinkled his nose.

You smiled as Nathan joined all of you, his bed hair was still evident, but he quickly threw his pacifier and asked for one.

“You can have a pumpkin.” You offered your eldest. “Now you know the rules, no kids allowed in the kitchen while mommy is working.”

Emmett motioned the boys to follow him, he’d put on a movie for them and bring them breakfast while you let the cookies dry completely. But Harper started to get fussy for being taken away from you.

“I think I lost my hearing.” Emmett chuckled handing you your daughter.

“Oh, poor thing.” You leaned forward to kiss Harper and then her daddy, earning a squeal from the baby. “She likes it when I kiss you.”

“I like when you kiss me.” Emmett added tickling her belly. “Go with them, I’ll make breakfast.”

Taking your coffee and the remains of your eclair you turned to look at this man for an instant, before going to the living room with your boys. Feeling so grateful for the man he was, for the way he treated you and all he did to make this place a safe home for his family.

****

A/N: Long story short, yes Emmett got the perfect coffee order ☕️🥰 I just got carried away… this scene just flashed before my eyes as a flashback before the invasion. ❤️‍🩹

[hoes4dylanobrien]

Mitch *again cuz I'm in love w him*, bodyguard, angst + fluff, New York, female in early twenties

OKK more than 500 but it is what it is

Love the bodyguard!mitch idea, ty so much anon!! hopefully u like

You tried not to look at him, but at some point during the gentle and at times violent rocking motions of the subway ride from uptown to lower Manhattan your gaze drifted over to his hulking figure. He stood a few seats down from you, leaned against the interior wall somewhat obscured by a group of teenagers laughing amongst themselves and trading phones. He pretended to find great interest in one of the ads printed across the opposite wall, giving you the perfect angle of his strong facial features, only softened by his sloping, slightly upturned nose, and wispy dark locks. His almond-shaped brown eyes shifted to you just as you turned away, but you knew he had caught you staring.

"You don't have to follow me every step of the way, you know," you said after you two had gotten off at Canal street, headed to Chinatown. He'd been a few steps behind you, but you halted suddenly, letting him catch up. His jaw tensed. "You think I enjoy being a glorified babysitter? Newsflash, I don't. But the pay is good. If I knew I'd be dealing with such a spoiled princess I would've thought twice."

"Then go," you blurted angrily, mostly out of hurt. "Give me a few hours to myself, I promise not to tell Daddy. You'll still earn your money and we'll both get a much needed break. How about that?"

He opened and shut his mouth, swallowing any initial objection. He looked to be considering your offer. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll be waiting back at Spring stre-"

"No need. I can find my way back home, thanks," you snapped. And with that, you turned on your heel, focusing more on getting away than on where you were going; all the while, feeling a burning gaze on your retreating back.

Not even fifteen minutes later you were starting to regret your decision. You'd planned to go to a restaurant recommended to you by a friend, and after that, your favorite hidden gem of a bookstore. Unfortunately, your phone had died, and you didn't remember the way. It also didnt help that you were, admittedly, directionally challenged. And usually, Mitch remembered where to go for the two of you, so you hadn't ever bothered to memorize the directions (you would never admit he was right, though.) After getting turned around enough times, you realized you were far beyond the main road and didn't recognize where you were in the slightest, or how to get back. It had also, in great cosmic justice, began to rain hard.

“Great, just great!”

As you began to give up hope, a car idled at a slow pace behind you. At first you ignored it, but when it became clear it was following you, you started to get nervous and walk at a faster pace. 

The driver’s window lowered. “Y/n, get in the car,” a familiar low tone ordered. You stilled, but continued walking. 

“Come on, y/n, don’t be stupid,” Mitch growled, impatient. “It’s freezing and I know you dont know where the hell you’re going. Just do us both a favor and get in the damn car!” 

“No!” You yelled, feeling a sudden burst of anger returning even as a slight chill wracked your body. 

“Why the hell not?” 

“Because. I’m a spoiled princess, remember? I don’t listen.” 

“Y/n,” he paused, and you knew without looking back that he was gazing upward as if channeling patience from a higher power, as he often did around you. “I’m sorry OK? I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You don’t deserve it.” 

You slowed your pace, eventually stopping. “Then why’d you say it?”

“You know why, y/n. I get in moods and sometimes... sometimes take it out on other people.” 

“So I’m not spoiled and annoying?” 

He let out a dry laugh. “No, you’re not. Well, not most of the time, anyway,” he teased, making you turn to him with a raised brow. 

“Everyone’s a little annoying, including me. I’m usually worse.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re fun to be around, most of the time,” you teased back. “You make me laugh and you’re actually honest with me,” you said seriously, “I’ve never had that in a friend before.” It was true. Most of your friends were either superficial or after your parents money. 

Mitch watched you with an undecipherable expression on his face. “Get in the car, y/n,” he repeated, still in an authoritative tone but softer. “Please?” 

You did as he asked this time, sitting up front instead of in the backseat as you normally would have. He pulled onto the road. “Where are we going?” You asked as you saw the sign and its accompanying exit for ‘uptown’ pass by. “Thought we’d try that new place,” Mitch replied, citing the one you endeavored to go to earlier. “And then to the bookstore,” you added in question. 

He answered with a rare smile.  

[radiokiran]

The Price of Love

How he wished he could turn back the clock, make the world spin against its motion, and take it to the point just before he had challenged her. Mayank was outside the intensive care unit of IGMC Shimla, praying fervently and choking on guilt.

Parul lay inside unconscious, with all her senses numb with medication.

He recalled his first meeting with this headstrong schoolgirl who would leap at any challenge thrown her way. Mayank had set his eyes upon her five years ago at the Shimla University Campus where he had come to submit his own form for admission in B.Tech. Parul was there too, standing in the queue with her friend Tanya- two young aspirants for the undergraduate Law course. 

Parul felt a gravitational pull towards the sprawling campus and then Mayank overheard her say to her bestie, “What a bore standing in the queue! Let’s pass it on to someone here and go hunting for some tall hunks.”

“What nonsense Parul! Be serious. We have to catch our bus back to Mandi at 2 o’clock.”

“Oh, come on! It's only 10 o’clock. You hold my form here. I’ll venture alone. See you at the University Main Gate after I’m done”, said Parul as she darted off.

Just one sight of this reckless Himachali lass clad in a printed pink salwar kameez with rosy apple cheeks, clear fair skin, two long braids, and almond eyes made Mayank’s heart skip a beat.

With his form submitted, he traced his route back to the sleepy town of Ludhiana where this handsome Punjabi lad, with well-chiselled features and a tall muscular frame, hailed from.

The admission forms found their way to the right place and a month later the successful aspirants, having secured a seat, were back on the campus to attend the new session.  Mayank was placed in Room 26 of the Neer Boys’ Hostel and within a week he was tagged as Parul’s lamb, for everywhere she went, he was sure to follow.

Cheeky but harmless ragging was still on the campus. At midnight, came a knock at his door.

He staggered to the door with drooping eyelids that opened wide in a flash as he saw Parul at the door with an impish smile as she breathlessly hissed, “Good night fifty”, giggled, and made a dash from there, hastily exiting the boys’ hostel. Mayank needed someone to pinch him to tell him it was not a dream!

The next morning, the hotel mess was abuzz with the midnight episode. The daredevil newbie had knocked not just at his door but almost at everyone else’s too all to win a bet of five thousand bucks!

That sure skyrocketed her to fame and popularity and almost everyone got talking to her casually. So did Mayank as luck would have had it when she was chatting with his friend at the cafeteria.

Two months later they were again sitting in the cafeteria, but more closely drawn than before.

“Parul. I want to say something.”

“Yes, go on.”

 “It’s something to do with our relationship. Yes, I mean just that. I don’t believe in friendship. I am not your friend. I never was and will never be. From the day I first saw you, I felt an irresistible attraction. I can’t define it but I was sure I wanted you as mine,” he blurted out with all the guts he could muster and then felt a trifle sheepish.

Parul’s rosy apple cheeks turned crimson, she felt all flushed with fever and tore herself away. From then on, she started avoiding Mayank leaving him feeling so miserable and restless.  He approached her after four days of despondency.

“Why have you turned your back on me, Parul? What’s wrong with you?”

“Mayank, leave me alone. You said whatever you had to. Now let me tell you, I am here with a focus on my studies. So let me be,” Parul blurted and rushed towards her hostel.

The more she pulled herself away from him, the more he hankered for her. His heart teemed with love and pure love for her. He would hang around her hostel for hours together just to catch her glimpse while she appeared unmoved by it. 

One day Tanya approached him rather purposefully.

“Hello Mayank, how are you?”

“I am fine Tanya,” Mayank sulked. 

“Mayank, I really do feel so bad to see you like this. If you are so serious then make Parul understand your love.”

“But how?”

“Make her jealous. Ignore her and go for another girl. If Parul does feel any love for you at all, she won’t be able to take it.”

This sounded good but it left him feeling even more confused.

“But how can I toy some other girl? What would she think about me? And I don’t think anyone will be ready to be part of this crazy game plan, Tanya.”

Tanya smiled, “Mayank, I’ll do anything to help you. Parul is my bestie and I know her better than anyone else. She deserves to have a strong and bold guy like you.”

“Are you serious? How can I thank you?”

 “I kinda feel envious of Parul, now. Anyway, let’s begin our game,” she smiled and left.

The next day onwards Tanya and Mayank were always found together.

“Parul, did you notice that everyone is talking about Mayank and Tanya,” one of Parul’s friends ribbed.

“Why are you telling me?” Parul roared.

“Sorry, actually we all had thought that Mayank loved you. Tanya is so lucky. Everyone knows that a boy’s heart changes with the weather.”

Parul’s face fell.

The next day, Parul spotted Mayank and Tanya sharing a table in the cafe.

“Hey Parul come here,” Tanya screamed.

“Why should I come, you backstabber,” snapped Parul as she slapped Tanya on her cheek.

 “How dare you!” Mayank reacted.

“Mayank, how dare YOU! It’s me whom you love.  Everyone in the college knows this,” she cried.

Mayank was on cloud nine. “Tanya, if true love comes with a price, the price would be all worthwhile if I was spending it on Parul,” he said ecstatically.

 “This was one big act, my dear,” Tanya smiled at Parul who stood confused.

After a year, Parul asked Mayank to quit the hostel so that she could stay with him.

“Are you nuts? Just think what’ll happen if this news reaches our homes?”

“I have thought it over; they will learn about our relationship sooner or later. So why not start living together now?”

Soon they had moved in together in a cosy room near the hostel and their intense love and live-in relationship was the talk of the town. This setup was short-lived as Parul’s elder sister came to know about it and came all the way to pull her away to her native place and make Parul sever all contact with him.  

Mayank sunk into despondency. His heart ached for her and everyone on the campus was concerned about him.  Their second-year final exams were approaching and one day Tanya came to him with a letter.  It recognized Parul’s handwriting.  Grabbing it, he darted towards a secluded place and his head spun as he read.  

“Dear Mayank

I know you must have been badly jolted by the way we were torn apart. Things are bad for me here. I have become the butt of everyone’s taunts. My mother too did not understand and slapped me. But I care for no one except you.

My father wants me to sit for the second-year exams. I’ll let him have his way. But I want you to put an application at the registrar’s office to book our marriage on the same date. I plan to quietly sneak out of the examination hall 15-20 minutes after the paper starts. I will meet you outside the registrar’s office. It’s a matter of life and death for me and the last chance for us to unite, or else my parents will marry me off to somebody else. See you there!

Yours lovingly

Parul”

Mayank thought hard. He knew his family was just as adamant as Parul’s. Had they known, he too would have been dragged to Punjab by now.  too. He saw his world, his future in Parul.  He said to himself, “Love is the true price of love,” and found himself tracing his way to the registrar’s office.

The date came and there he stood with Raj and Tanya, waiting for his ladylove to show up.  

“Hello sweetheart”, she cooed from a distance and rushed to hug him. “I can’t believe this; so we are getting married. Hurry up.”

Mayank was over the moon and his confidence was teeming. Within half an hour they came out of the registrar’s office, a newlywed couple.

This news sure got home to both their families and the daggers were drawn.

Mayank’s father boomed, “You don’t exist for us from today.”

“I’ll believe I had no girl named Parul,” Parul’s mother whimpered, finding it difficult to control her tears.

Mayank and Parul were left with no choice but to go on with their lives in unison. It was a struggle, to carry on with their studies and do part-time jobs to make ends meet. Love held them together and after a bumpy ride of four long years, Mayank got a regular job in the Military Engineering Service; he was posted at Dagshai. Things started to look up for them and they tried again to reconcile with their parents but more curses came their way.

Standing outside the ICU, Mayank recalled how he had planned a grand 5th-anniversary party for Parul.

“Parul, I’ll send Bhanu Bhai by car to Solan to get all the things needed for the party.” Bhanu was a Nepalese whom he had recently employed.

“I will also go”, Parul said.

“Why? There is no need for you to go. You manage the preparations at home,” Mayank said calmly.

“Mayank, you always act arrogant and don’t allow me to be independent.”

“If you had known driving, I would have sent you alone,” Mayank tried to reason. But this enraged her further.

“Are you challenging me, Mayank? Just wait and see, I’ll learn to drive from Bhanu within the next six days.”

“It takes about 6 months to learn to drive properly, and you dream of it in six days,” Mayank laughed.

Parul kept to her resolve and her progress surprised everyone. She had understood the whole mechanism of driving in four days. Bhanu informed Mayank, “Sir, Bhabhi is a wonderful learner. She has picked up very fast.”

Finally, the D-day came and Mayank reluctantly allowed Parul to accompany Bhanu, adding a word of caution. “The way from Dagshai to Solan is very tricky so don’t you think of driving, okay?” He turned to the driver and spoke firmly, “Bhanu, don’t give the steering wheel in your Bhabhi’s hands.”

“Of course, not, Sir”, reassured Bhanu and set off with Parul. It had been only two hours since they had left, and Mayank began to feel restless. He came out of his office and heard some commotion in Dagshai. A voice came from the distance, “A Maruti Zen car has fallen in the gorge.”

“What colour was it,” Mayank shouted.

“Grey, Sir, A lady was driving it”, the man replied and moved away.

Mayank’s heart sank, and he made a quick dart at the accident site with his colleagues. Rescue operations were going on. The Maruti Zen had nose-dived in a gorge 150 meters down. Survival seemed dismal and all Mayank could do was pray.

He learned that on the opposite hill, an Army Unit was on exercise and the moment they had seen the car fall, they rushed to help. The Army was trained for such exigencies; for a civilian, this would have been impossible. After a six-hour rescue operation, Parul was pulled out all soaked in blood, and rushed to Indira Gandhi Medical College (IGMC) Shimla. Mayank told the army personnel to continue the search operation for Bhanu. He was informed that Parul had been found stuck between the branches of a tree 50 meters above the base while the car had gone spiralling down and hit rock bottom.

Mayank had gathered his wits and called up Parul’s father.

 “How dare you dial my number? Parul is dead for us.”

“Sir, please don’t disconnect the phone. I just wanted to tell you that with your blessings Parul is truly on the brink of death”, Mayank cried bitterly.

After a moment's silence, Parul’s father asked,” What’s wrong with Parul? She was so happy with you or so she said. We want to see her!”

Mayank told them about what had happened.

He then called his own father and lamented, “Papa, Parul is dying. How right you were! I will never prosper with Parul. I’ll also kill myself rather than live without her.”

“Mayank, what has happened to Parul? Where is she?” He discerned his father’s concern for Parul for the first time ever.

Parul had been in the ICU for the last 45 hours. It was heart-wrenching for both the parents when they reached there. They prayed feverishly, blessing her countlessly, regretting bitterly the curses they had heaped on her in the past. One of Mayank’s friends came on the scene and took him aside to break the news. Bhanu’s dead body had been brought up after ten hours.

Parul asked about Bhanu as soon as she gained consciousness. “I’ll never be able to forgive myself if something goes wrong with him. It was I who had coerced him into letting me drive the car. I saw a cow in front and tried to avoid it…” Parul began to cry.

“Bhanu is fine Parul. He had some minor injuries and after treatment, he went back to Nepal. And see who has come to see you!”

Parul broke into tears seeing her parents after five long years and received blessings from Mayank’s parents. After a week, she was declared out of danger and doctors recommended one year’s bed rest as she had multiple fractures which would take time to heal.

Mayank thought he would wait to unfold the truth about Bhanu to Parul till the time she could be strong enough to handle that devastating news. He was broken from the inside and begged like a child for forgiveness for Parul and himself from Bhanu’s family. He assured them of all possible monetary help for them till he was alive.

Ever since he first set his eyes on Parul, he had often mused about the price one has to pay for true love. He stood in anguish and remorse and realized, grief was the price love had paid for being in the same world as death.

[smoochi-modest]

✿ [ Wilted ] ✿

—> Genshin Impact - [ Xiao x Reader ]

—>  [ Fem! Reader. Blood. Gore. Character death. Fluff into angst, with a rather bitter ending. ]

—> Description - [ It all started with a promise, and now here you were. It seems Xiao will never escape his karma, he thought. The hope you once gave him began to escape within his tears. ]

—> Note - [ 2,231 words - I hope you enjoy;; it'll be one of the few times I write angst, I can't bring myself to hurt him more. ]

" Xiao... you're immortal right? "

Head rested peacefully on the adepti's shoulder, you couldn't help but smile fondly towards the boys face. Xiao had been staring back at you for quite some time now, you were unsure why but you hadn't been bothered to ask. Feeling safe under his watchful eye.

" I am still able to die, just not by time. " Xiao said firmly to you in response, his normally sharp glare found itself to soften the moment you lock eye contact. A feeling of nostalgia bubbled beneath the surface of his skin.

"Mm... That's no good, that means you'll have to die in pain. Right?"

He was taken back by your words for a moment, a frown creeping onto his features. Brows furrow while listening to you patiently. He opened his mouth, only to shut it once more for you to continue.

"I mean... You're already going through enough pain as it is."

He was. And he knew it hurt not only him, but you as well.

"Will you be alright when I'm gone...?"

No. He wanted to say oh so desperately. Closing his eyes, Xiao leaned his head to the side, nuzzling on top of your own while he whispered gently.

" Please do not utter such words. "

Then there was silence, within the heavy atmosphere there was clearly something plaguing your thoughts. He feared it would trap you in a world similar to his own, a place full of pain and self doubt.

" . . . "

" I am an adepti, not a child. "

" . . . "

Yet again more silence, that is... until you shot up from your seated position, knocking your heads together on accident while whining in the process. You lifted a hand to your head, muttering small curses. But now wasn't the time for that! Brushing off the complaints, you make light of the situation. A new idea found it's way in that pretty head of yours, as he stared at you rather irritated by the sudden bash of skulls through your unexpected excitement.

" Wait! I got it! " You seem to beam, " I'll just reincarnate as soon as I am dead! Then I could embrace you just like this, all over again! "

Xiao scoffed, looking to the ground as a sudden warmth found its way across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. A rose red hue, adorning his face.

" Reincarnation doesn't work like that, you have no say in how long it takes for you to return. "

This seemed to make you pout, sitting yourself back down, you take his hands in your own. The sudden connection, brought him to lift his head slightly to have a glance at your expression. Your fingers intertwining with his.

" Fine then! Just watch me, Xiao. I'll prove you wrong. "

"I'll even promise you!"

That day was forever imprinted in the back of his mind, staring down solemnly at your gravestone. He couldn't remember the last time he felt your touch, oh how he craved to feel it again. Wishing to go back in time, and replay everything all over again.

Xiao missed the way you'd hold his hands ever so delicately, bringing each knuckle to your soft lips. With each kiss, came so much unfamiliar warmth. He wishes he could have told you just how special you were to him, but now it was too late.

You were always the one to nurture his hands, the way you'd caress them with your thumb- leaving tingles behind. You'd claim time and time again, that those hands weren't only used for bloodshed. But for love as well.

His hands let him eat Almond tofu, grasp onto your face while peppering you with soft love pecks. He can almost hear you giggles still, whenever you'd try to push him away out of embarrassment.

Now he awaited for your promise to come true... he's waited nearly a decade now, or had it been more? Visiting your grave whenever he had the time, he treated your gravestone like it had truly been you. Leaving flowers behind, all different colours. Some white camellia, all the way to some dandelion he picked from the ground during his travels.

Ever since that day, the fateful day of your demise- Xiaos life fell into shambles. Feeling tears swell up beneath his mask each day as he slaughtered all his inner demons, along with many threats that came too close to the city of Liyue. His life didn't feel the same, forgetting what he had done on a regular biases without you by his side. So much pressure weighed at his faltering heart. A pressure that almost made him feel equal pain to his karmic debt.

He longed for a day to come where he could have worn the mask and danced with you in his arms — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers he heard once before, long ago. Before he had met you.

The once glittering sun found itself to rest behind the ocean's view, darkness consuming your gravestone and him along with it. Allowing the moon to grace Xiao with it's knowing call, a sign of more pain to come, a call reminding him of his duty that he must serve for the rest of his lifetime. He bid your grave a farewell after adjusting some of the fallen flowers.

Everything around him seemed to be void of any sound, slashing away at potential threats in his path. Piercing monsters abdomens like it were a kabob, before ripping his weapon of choice out in swift motion, allowing blood to spill out of the inhumane creature. Spinning his jade-winged spear to rid of any remaining traces of blood or guts, the ground had been painted in the horrifying colour which you seemed adore. A rose red.

There had been very few times where Xiao was caught off guard, however it was during this onslaught that something abnormal began to sprout like a rose bud. A harsh force knocked him off his feet, collapsing to the ground as he winced in pain. A weight then followed, hovering over him as a small hand grasped his throat. Choking on his breath, his piercing gold eyes widen at the sight ahead of him.

There sat a young girl, resembling his fallen lover. He couldn't allow this inconvenience to halt him from his duty, yet Xiaos mind began to churn still. Ripping the mystery girls hand off his throat, he kicked her off of himself. Quickly standing back up, in a more defensive position.

The two opposing figures stare at each other with undecipherable expression. Both wearing their own masks. His of an Oni, hers of a butterfly. The broken mask only covered the top left half of her face, and he prayed his eye's were playing tricks on him. A familiar colour of messy hair, lips coated in blood as it appears she had previously bitten herself while taking the impact of his kick. But what really through him off was that single eye. An eye that resembles your exact image. But why here? surely this couldn't have been you, he pleaded for it not to have been you.

" Wait! I got it! " You seem to beam, " I'll just reincarnate as soon as I am dead! Then I could embrace you just like this, all over again! "

" Fine then! Just watch me, Xiao. I'll prove you wrong. "

Feeling a sudden rush of pain course through his veins, Xiao stumbled backwards. Clutching onto his mask, desperately trying to snap himself back into reality. A low growl seems to rumble from his throat as he gasps, picking up his lowered head, the girl had yet to approach him.

After one more glance, the adeptus made up in his mind that it must have been you. The way those now empty eyes pierce into his tainted and damaged soul. It sent shivers down his spine, a feeling he had been unfamiliar with. Was this fear? He had no idea. Afraid that this was the fate you two had met, was this his karmic debt returning to torture him in every possible way?

Xiao could understand why he was brought back into his world of inner demons, but why... why were you here? you didn't do anything to deserve this. The girl he once knew, wished to live a happy life, one full of flowers and pillow talks. All that innocence, silly promises that seemed to make his heart flutter all came crashing down.

Fighting through the pain, he got back into a protective stance. You noticing his caution, slowly approach him. This caught him off guard, and that was his first mistake. Allowing your expression alone to throw him off. A single tear seemed to stray down your cheek, lunging forward at him with impressive speed. He lifts the shaft of his spear ahead of himself, protecting himself from the blade you pulled out from your hip. Deflecting it and jumping back, it was clear the boy had no interest in harming you.

" If you are who I believe, please listen to the words I say- argh! " Another sharp pain shot in the back of his head, interrupting his futile attempt to have a conversation with the reborn you. Xiao was unable to accept the fact you had become something so opposing to the angel you once were. Old memories of you smiling in his direction ate at his rotting sanity.

He knew this had to be you, a you that Xiao wished he didn't have to see. Your figure was covered head to toe in blood, hair knotted as you seemed to huff out shallow breaths. It was clear your body had been worn out from whatever you previously were doing.

" Please, you made a promise to embrace me once again. So why are you standing so far away, don't you remember?! "

His normally calm nature seemed to crack, a voice unbearable to hear. The way it would crack mid sentence, he was at a breaking point. Not wanting to harm his love.

The silence between the two of you felt like hell, air so heavy he could hardly breathe.

Xiao knows all too well, he had the upper hand in a one on one fight with you, but harming you was the last thing on his mind. Pleading once again, realizing his voice didn't seem to reach you at all.

He missed those small talks.

The screams all sound the same.

After another moment of silence and hesitance, you crouched down. Fingers tracing the ground without removing you gaze from his. He asked for your gentle stare to return, the way you look at him now with such emptiness- it truly hurt.

Its the old voice in his head that held him back.

Realizing what you had been attempting to do, it was his time to lunge forward. Pushing you away from the graphic pile of your now comrades bodies.

Xiao managed to gain a firm grip on your wrists in a single hand, while you were trapped beneath him. You squirm, thrash and scream in a desperate attempt to escape. Each shout felt like a knife had been plunged deep into his heart.

He hated to see you like this, the mask once keeping his face hidden found itself to dissolve in thin air, allowing you to see his saddened expression. Brows furrowed, tears streaming down his once expressionless face, his body began to quiver knowing what he had to do for this all to end.

"Will you be alright when I'm gone...?"

His unoccupied hand reached for his spear. Lifting it up above your form beneath him. He wanted this to be quick, a painless death... but that pain would only transfer back to him. Know that the hands you once adored, would be your own bitter end.

" How are your hands so soft, Xiao?? smooth~" You coed " I could touch them forever... " You brought his hand up to nuzzle your cheek into its warmth. Your smile always felt contagious, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as well.

Pitiful hiccups erupt from the boy, unsure how to handle the flood of emotions.

After a while, your struggle seemed to end. Not realizing what he had done. The ear piercing scream you let out, went unheard by the boy who was so focused on old memories, his head pounding. Opening his eyes, they widen in shock.

There you were, blood spilling from your chest as his eyes focus on the weapon now dug deep within your chest where your heart was.

The same weapon he used to slay evil, the weapon he used to protect you with a long time ago. Now, the weapon that he coated in your blood.

A sudden sense of distraught met the boy, crying out for you only to hear his own echoes. Still sat on top of you, he removes the weapon. Throwing it to the side as he clutches your body close to his own.

Blood and tears merge together.

Embracing you just how you promised, he wrapped one arm around your waist while the other allowed his hand to hold your head against his shoulder, nose nuzzled in the crook of his neck. Your blood painted his torso, staining his clothes.

You used to adore hearing his heartbeat on late nights like this... oh how he wished he could hear yours in this moment too.

[butcheranons]

Bad Influence

summary: You love Bad more than anything else; well, maybe not as much as The Egg, but he’s up there. 

Unbeknownst to you, he hides his true nature with the kindest human eyes you’d ever seen. 

word count: 2.8k

A/N: this was once a drabble  👍 👍 (no beta we die like wilbur)

warnings: unprotected sex, somewhat exhibitionism (if you count the egg as a voyeur), overstimulation, breeding kink if you squint, too many pet names.

anatomy: gender neutral 

“Bit higher," You raise your hands along with your words, guiding the two men holding the decorative banner. “Perfect.“

“Where do these chairs go?” Turning your head at the new voice, you frown at the state of the furniture.

“What are these?”

“Dinner chairs.”

“They sure don’t like the ones I ordered.”

“What? They’re exactly as you requested, black dining chairs with red cushioning.”

“Red?!” You scoff, “I ordered black iron with crimson cushions! This is cherry! What are we? A picnic?!” You roll your eyes.

“C’mon, no one will notice the difference, just take these we have a lot of work to do.”

Your neck snaps at the sound, raised eyebrows as you hum, expecting him to say something else, but alas, he doubled down.

"I said: Just take em', we have five other deliveries today."

"What?!" There's this little pang of annoyance that sets on your nape, leaving your muscles sore at the thought of having to deal with lazy workers. "I have paid upfront."

He rolls his eyes.

"You insolent little thing..." Gritting your teeth, you look around before stepping forward, "Take these back or you and your bosses will hear from me. I will not let this pass. How dare you?!"

"Man... Why do you have to complicate, it's already paid for, just fuckin' take it."

"Language...!"

You hear a chime from behind and your shoulders relax, turning around there's this heat that creeps up your body when your eyes meet his.

"What's wrong, my little muffin?" His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest and letting his warmth envelop your body. He never failed to surprise you with how warm he was; constantly.

"Oh, sugar bear," You whine, tangling your fingers into his. "This is the end of the world! I asked for black iron with crimson cushioning and look at this disaster!"

He nods, a bit confused, trying to differentiate between the shades, but feeling your upsetness. "Cupcake, why don't you go manage the catering samples while I sort this out? I'm sure you will love the red velvet cake, I sure did!"

A wide smile breaks out on your lips, you give him a kiss on the cheek before running off to the kitchen, nothing but sweet red velvet cake and cherry pies on your mind. Welcomed by the scent of whipped cream and lemonade you're carried by your stomach to the caterer holding the delicacies.

Your tasting is interrupted by the loud banging of metal outside and you consider scolding your lazy workers, but give your attention to the cake samples instead.

You're sampling the chocolate red velvet with cherry frosting when Bad bursts through the doors, wiping his face with the crimson handkerchief you'd gifted him last anniversary. A sweet smile fills your face, "Honeypie, try this one!"

When his eyes meet yours, your heart fills with a sugary coating that seeps through your veins and directly into your brain, "I've had my filling, which one is your favourite?"

Humming, you let your body rest against his, "Mhm... Chocolate is the best, by far... But lemon is so good!"

"You've got a little bit of whipped cream..." His whispers are hot against your lips before he captures them, tongue flicking across the corners and to your cheek.

The heat in your body is noticeable.

"Thanks..."

"Mhm... This one is the best."

You giggle, slapping his chest, "You're so corny–"

"Only for you, my little blueberry muffin."

When the workers leave, the hall is a dazzling ruby tone all over, the vines seem to almost glow in pride, cascading from the ceiling like a blood waterfall. You wade through the floor they carefully polished, carpet over the dining room muffling your steps.

"Oh, it's perfect, honey bun!"

Bad gleams in joy, rushing to your side, admiring you almost as much as he adores the vines. "I was worried they wouldn't make it in time, but it's perfect."

"What about the mechanisms?"

"Ah, yes, Ant did a great job, come, look..." He holds your hand, pulling you through the hallway leading to the the egg. "We'll have them step right here," pointing to a large tile on the ground, he pulls a lever, which quickly raises it about two feet above your head. "And then it's just, wack!" His hands swing around in an attack motion and you smile.

Your heart palpitates at the thoughts of watching the sacrifice, having the best seat. From the raised position, the blood would splatter all over the watchers, a cloud of beautiful crimson falling at their heads.

"Oh...my almond cookie, this is beautiful! The Egg will be so proud!"

Bad chuckles at your praise, letting himself blush. He pulls the lever to lower back the platform as to leave everything in place.

You take a step forward, the heels of your shoes announce your movement. Standing at the centre, you face the egg, an unnatural warmth fills your chest. You pull at your blouse to appease your brain, though you know it wouldn't help. When your eyes meet Bad's, you can see his breath hitch, he makes it out as a cough.

"Join me, sugar bear!" You reach out your arms, eyes reflecting the red of everything around you.

Bad doesn't hesitate to follow your orders, pulling the lever and running across to catch the platform as it rises above the ground. You catch him in your arms, hands gliding across his chest and nape, he shivers under your touch.

"Do you want to give The Egg a show, muffin?'

Your pulse is so fast you believe anyone would be able to hear it, human or not. "Yes..." You nod, voice too breathless for the lack of action. The smile that catches his lips is almost demonic, and your chest craves him. His hands tease at your chest and you melt into his touch, "Please..."

"If you ask so nicely..." His whispers fall deaf in your ears but cut deep into your skin, burrowing in goosebumps along your body. "...Then I can't refuse."

When your lips meet his, it's sweet.

Sweeter than anything else you could ever wish for and you want to get lost in his kisses.

He holds you gently, but below the delicate fingers, there's this firmness that makes your heart stop. You know no one else could ever pry you off his arms and you're not opposed to the idea of being with him, on him 24/7.

Tongue exploring your mouth, you moan, hands occupied with fistfuls of his white dress shirt. You tug at the golden buttons, wanting nothing but to feel his chest on yours, let his body heat consume you and lull you into comfort.

"Do you trust me, muffin?"

You nod, your eyes glazed in lust can barely focus on his at this point. Bad smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead, he inhales your taste, your scent, your everything.

And then, he pushes you off the platform.

You feel the way your heart immediately jumps at the sight of danger, there's this cold that pools in your stomach and runs through your body, lowering your body temperature.

And before you know, you... fall?

But you don't meet the ground.

When you open your eyes, you're met with the under view of Bad's prideful grin. The vines around your arms feel hot, too hot. But they lift you up until you're in his reach again.

"Hi..." You breathe out, your heart still too unsettled to spot pounding in your chest.

You thought you'd die, or at least, get badly injured. Not that you didn't trust him, but maybe he made some errors in his calculations.

But then, again, if he wished for you to fall without the vines this time, you probably would.

And Bad pulls you in his arms, nose brushing against yours and you wonder how would ever doubt your little muffin?

"Did I scare you too much?" He caresses your cheeks, brushing your hair away from your face with so much adoration in his eyes you feel like a deity.

"No... just a little jumpscare."

He chuckles, kissing your nose softly, "Good."

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting his body flush against yours and fit you so perfectly. But you know you wish for a little bit more; after so much adrenaline, you feel some little... cravings.

And as if he read your mind, his hands wander your body, reaching for your waist with a little bit more force than usual. His fingers have no difficulty taking care of your belt or pants, he picked them out, anyway.

You let yourself loose in his kisses, your own fingers lost in his hair, pulling around the corners you know he likes a bit too much just so you get to hear his sugary moans. You devour each and every noise that escapes his throat.

Before you know, he’s got you in just your underwear. His lips leave yours for a second to take your hand and spin you around.

You don’t let go of the glisten in his eyes as he looks you up and down, tongue grazing over his lips hungrily. He could eat you up and it’d never be enough. No time with you would ever be enough.

Bad spins you just enough so now you’re facing the egg once again, back pressed tightly to his chest. His breathing bounces off your neck, making you swallow dry, hands nervous down your sides, wanting to touch him and feel him up—

“Look at how pretty you are, my little peanut,” His tongue glides along your cheek to reach your earlobe. “The Egg is so pleased with how beautiful you are... Let’s show your even prettier faces, should we?”

You nod, melting into his arms as his hands graze along your body; from your chest to your waist to your hips. His long fingers play with the band of your underwear, torturing you just so he can have the little whines that escape your throat unconsciously. When you reach behind your shoulder to pull and tangle his hair he chuckles along your skin.

His fingers are on you, skilfully reaching for the most sensitives places of your body. And you arch into his touch, leaving your neck fully exposed for him to nibble and suckle.

Your skin, otherwise perfect, is blemished with the traces of him.

Your lips crash against his, this time, more passionate than ever, all while his fingers don't lose their pace.

You're near your climax, your stomach churning around his fingers but it's worthless coming if it's not on him.

"Bad... Pudding, I need you..." It's a needy half-moan.

"Tell me the magic word, bombon..." His lips graze along your shoulder and you know, you feel it in your back how much he needs you, too. His face is completely flushed, the heat spread across his cheeks only rival your own heat, throbbing and needy.

"Please, baby, please... Give me–.... Please, I need you. Fuck me–"

The lustful smirk that takes over is by far not of his nature but you were his little bad influence.

"Mhmm..." Bad sings along your skin, one hand placed over your stomach and another on your shoulder blades.

He bends you over, the vines quickly tightening their grip over your arms; letting you hang as if you were laying down. While busy with his buckle and pants, he let his eyes fuck you over and over, the way your back looks to him, the faint red glow that touches your skin; You turn your head around and there's this lust, this yearning that grows on your belly.

Because Bad's otherwise kind, honey-brown eyes have now turned a devilish crimson.

His hands are rough when they pull off his pants, soon, coming around his cock, rock-solid and bright red. You wrongly assumed it might have been the redness of the room bouncing off his pale skin. There's a part of your brain that believes he's even bigger than you remembered though you chuck it to the amount of time it has been since your last.

You watch the inhuman amount of precum that drips from his glande and over his fingers, your mouth watering, tongue unconsciously running over your lips. Your reaction makes him chuckle.

Positioning himself at your entrance, his other hand leaves marks across your hips, holding you more firmly than he'd ever had. Not that you were complaining.

The tip goes in effortlessly, leaving behind this stretch that fills every particle of your being and clouds your thoughts with the ache of his cock. You hear him hiss, hands curling around your skin, leaving fingerprints all over. You're sure you will be admiring them tomorrow.

"So tight–" He hisses once again, "So, so tight– Just for me..."

Your eyes are rolling around in their sockets when he finally bottoms out, seemingly infinite in your canal. His fingers drag along your spine, ever so kindly letting you adjust before moving, even if his instincts are begging him otherwise.

When the expansion settles, you're unknowingly rolling your hips toward his, the grip of the vines making it harder to take control. But he lets ouch a soft chuckle, an adoring look sweeps his eyes for a second, so proud of your boldness. You were always a go-getter.

He is painfully slow, taking in every second of it, hitting your walls with a determination that makes you moan out incoherent strings of what you believed were words.

The sounds that erupt from his throat are feral and inhuman by nature, settling in every inch of your bones and activating your flight or flee instincts. You wondered if the third instinct was fuck.

Your chest dips down, the vines now holding your arms above your head while Bad's grip on your hips don't falter, instead, the new angle allowing him to speed up his thrusts; not losing any of the strength. Your brain is filled only by him and how amazing he feels in you.

He moans your name along with praises of how well you're taking him and you wonder just how in the world could he make such a sinful sequence of words sound so heavenly. Alas, you don't give much thought, your brain once again being quickly clouded with his cock and only his cock.

Bad pulls your waist, letting your back meet his chest. This position only heightens every touch of his, you’re so close, so warm, so good...

"The Egg isn't liking how quiet you are, sugar plum..."

You smile, stuck between watching the hypnotic crimson and the eyes of your adoring lover that swallows your moans.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer,

You will show The Egg how good Bad is to you.

"Bad, honey– Uh– I'm–"

"I know, muffin," His whispers are a caress along your ears, lulling you into your release.

You scream his name, the moans bouncing off the spongy walls of the cave and returning to your ears, you feel the way his grip tightens around your hips, the way you're milking him doesn't help how hard he's trying to hold back, prolong his time with you as much as he can.

"You're so good for me, just one more, babycakes..."

Every inch of your skin feels hot to the touch, even more than before. It's like you're on fire and freezing cold at the same time, each part that touches his body is a million times more sensitive. You feel each and every millimetre of his moves, the pleasure echoing around your body in waves.

"I don't know if I can." You shake your head, barely being able to think at this point, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"Shh... You can, you're so good for me... So tight... You take me so well."

"Fill me up, pumpkin... Please, fill me up to the brim, let me feel you–", you moan, "–Fill me up so much I'm dripppin'!"

Oh, your Bad was too good for you.

His words are what tip you over the edge, getting him to catch his own climax. His hands don't leave your body, his lips coming to kiss all over your neck and jaw.

You melt into his touch, the vines releasing your arms and legs so you can collapse into him. He catches your body, coming to a sit and letting you sprawl over his chest, your hands reaching out to caress his hair.

"My little naughty cookie, if you spill one drop I'll have to fill you all over again..."

You giggle into his kisses, "Oh, no!" you exclaim sarcastically, giggling in between your words. He laughs, kissing your cheeks and forehead and everywhere he can get his lips on. Because you deserve so much, heavens, you're just perfect and you take him so well and you were made for him–

You feel loved.

You watch the glow of the vines brighten for a second and you both hum knowingly.

The Egg has been fed.

After all, there is a reason why orgasms were called "The little death."

[engie-ivy]

Yes, it's great that Sirius finally dared to ask Remus out. But... maybe next time don't do it in the midst of a Death Eater attack?

@wanderingbandurria here it is!

(I keep hurting Sirius in all my fics lately! What's wrong with me?!)

It's a date!

“We should have dinner.”

Sirius speaks without pausing the rapid succession of curses he’s firing. Remus gives him a quick look, but almost immediately has to turn his attention back to the darkness in front of them, as a beam of light flies right past his head. He fires a cure back, and three curses come soaring at him in return, only to be deflected by Sirius’ quickly casted Protego Charm.

Before more curses can come their way, Sirius and Remus duck behind a rock on their right.

“Sure,” Remus says. “Let’s tell the Death Eaters to wait here while we go on a food break. Hey, maybe they’d like to join, and we can all go to McDonalds together.”

Suddenly, a particularly nasty curse blows a piece of the rock away, just centimetres from Sirius’ head. Sirius doesn’t hesitate. Using the dust as a cover, he Stupifies the approaching Death Eaters with three well-aimed curses. Then he turns around to follow Remus, jumping and rolling over the floor into the shelter of a battered, but at least still standing, wall.

“I didn’t mean now,” he says, rolling his eyes. “After this.”

Remus peers past the wall, and smoothly disarms the Death Eater trying to attack them on his side.

“Sure,” he says. “Do you want to make a grocery list, or...?”

A beam of light hits the seam of Sirius’ robes and sets them on fire. He spins on his heels and first somehow manages to take out two Death Eaters with one curse, before pointing his wand to his robes to extinguish the flames.

Suddenly, Remus pushes him away so roughly that he trips and falls flat on his back. In front of him, the top of the wall has come crumbling down and large pieces of rock cover the spot he had just been standing.

Remus grabs his hand, pulls him up, and they sprint away again. This time, they end up crouching down behind a low wall that can hardly be called a wall.

“I meant,” Sirius says slowly. “We should have dinner, at a restaurant, together, just the two of us.”

Remus’ eyes widen in surprise and he opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment a flash of green light flies right past his head.

Sirius’ mouth tightens in anger and he jumps to his feet, sending of a rapid succession of curses. Not without effect, judged from the grunts coming from the Death Eaters hidden in the darkness. He feels something scrape his cheek and turns in the direction it came from, but Remus jerks him down just in time before three curses at the same time fly towards where Sirius’ head had been just second ago. Blood is dripping from a deep gash in Sirius’ cheek.

“Padfoot,” Remus says disbelievingly. “Are you asking me out? Now?”

Sirius shrugs. “Seems as good a time as any.”

A shrill, familiar voice echoes through the darkness. “Where are you, you filthy blood traitor? I’m gonna make you regret the day you shamed our family, you foul disgrace!”

Sirius and Remus send a red beam into the direction of the voice almost automatically, which is followed by a loud shriek.

Remus raises an eyebrow at Sirius.

“Alright, maybe not as good a time as any,” Sirius reluctantly admits. “But still, the question stands.”

Sirius’ eye catches two stone pillars, that look like better hiding places than the almost falling apart wall. He motions for Remus to follow him and once again they sprint through the night, dodging curses here and there.

“Since when...” Remus jumps to one side of the pillar to avoid a curse and then quickly jumps back again to avoid another. “Do you even want to date me?”

Sirius casts a Protego on his left and Remus’ right, so they can first focus on the Death Eaters at the other side.

“Couple of months maybe,” Sirius replies. “I found out I rather fancy you, and as much as I enjoy being friends with you, I was hoping it could be something more.”

Remus gapes at him, but even more surprising is the sudden force that blows them both backwards, landing flat on their backs a few metres away from the pillars. From their new position though, they are able to spot a ditch in the ground, and staying low, they manage to crawl in that direction and roll themselves in the ditch.

They take a minute to catch their breaths. Sirius’ face is bruised and Remus has sprained his wrist.

Suddenly, a glowing white deer appears in front of them.

“Padfoot, Moony.” James’ voice sounds grave. “The Prewetts had to give up their position. The Death Eaters who were fighting them are almost certainly on their way to reinforce the group attacking you.”

Remus curses under his breath.

“You have to get out of there as fast as you can,” Prongs’ voice urges, before the deer disappears again.

“Shite!” Sirius looks over his shoulder to where he knows the Death Eaters must be approaching.

“What do we do?” Remus asks anxiously.

“We have to get that piece of parchment to Dumbledore.” Sirius gestures at the folded parchment tucked away in the pocket of Remus’ robes. “Whatever information it contains, he said it may be essential for Lily’s, James’, and Harry’s safety.”

“I know that much,” Remus says. “But how? The anti-apparition zone stretches out for at least another half a kilometre, if not more. We won’t make it like this, but they’re too many to stop and face in a standstill, with even more on their way! And if we turn around and run, one of their curses will surely hit us in the back.”

“I might have an idea,” Sirius says thoughtfully. “You run to the end of the anti-apparition zone, while I hold off the Death Eaters and cover your back-”

“Sirius.”

“No, hear me out. I’ll stall them only as long as to give you a good head start. Then, I’ll turn into Padfoot and follow. Padfoot’s smaller, darker, closer to the ground, and therefore much more difficult to hit, and let’s not forget much faster! I’ll have a much better chance.”

“Alright,” Remus says reluctantly. “But don’t be a stubborn idiot, Sirius! I know you. I know how you get carried away. Don’t think you can take down all Death Eaters on your own. Stall them for a bit, and then follow!”

“I will, I will. Just get ready to run.” Sirius is already turning to climb out of the ditch.

“Wait.” Remus grabs Sirius’ arm and turns him back to face him. “Tuesday night. That Italian place with those almond cookies I like so much. Pick me up at seven, and wear your leather jacket.”

Sirius blinks and then breaks out in a grin. “It’s a date!”

Sirius loves duelling. There’s a reason he was the best duller at Hogwarts. It’s addictive to him, the constant alternation between evading, shielding and deflecting, and attacking. He loves the adrenaline rush when an enemy’s curse just barely misses him and the thrill when he hits his target.

The knowledge that each Death Eater he takes out is one less to hurt Remus spurs him on even more, and he soon gets lost in the sensation.

Suddenly, he hears a chuckle on his left, and sees a hooded figure standing right next to him. It’s more instinct than anything else that makes him Stupify the figure before it can hurt him.

He blinks. Right next to him? How did he let that happen? When did they get so close? How long has he been duelling?

He turns, meaning to change into Padfoot mid-turn, but before he can transform, something hits him between his shoulder blades. A sharp pain spreads through his body and the world around him goes black.

Sirius slowly blinks his eyes open and groans at the throbbing pain throughout his entire body.

Suddenly, James’ face is occupying his entire field of view.

“Padfoot? Padfoot, are you there? Padfoot, can you see me? Can you hear me?”

Sirius turns his head away. “Yes Prongs, and I can smell you too! Merlin, what’s the last time you brushed your teeth?”

But James just responds by wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug.

Sirius hugs back as good as he can. “Close call, huh?” He mutters.

“Much too close,” James confirms as he releases him again. He looks a bit shaky. “Mad-Eye called us sentimental fools when we went back. We thought we were just bringing back your body, so we could at least give you a proper-” He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. “Merlin, Padfoot.”

“Sorry,” Sirius winches.

A silence falls, before Sirius asks “What day is it?”

“Friday,” James replies, and Sirius groans.

Downstairs, the front door opens, and Lily’s voice drifts up.

“Hi, Moony. James is with him right now, but I just finished cooking some dinner. Would you like some?”

“No, thank you, Lily,” is Remus’ flat reply. “I’ll be going right upstairs.”

“Remus, what’s the last time you’ve eaten anything? Or slept, for that matter.”

“He’s been taking it very hard,” James whispers.

“Yeah,” Sirius replies. “We were supposed to have Italian.”

James frowns at him. “I honestly don’t think he’s been so upset because he missed out on pizza night.”

Before Sirius can reply, however, the door opens and Remus is standing there. His mouth is slightly parted and his eyes widen as his gaze fixes on Sirius, who’s staring back at him.

“I’m sorry I missed our date,” Sirius says in a raspy voice, and he wants to ask for another chance, but the words die in his throat as Remus strides forward, cups Sirius’ face in his hands and just kisses him.

Sirius doesn’t particularly mind this turn of events, and participates as best he can, his hands clutching Remus’ sweater as he loses himself in the feel of Remus’ lips insistent against his own.

“So,” James says with a raised eyebrow after they’ve pulled apart. “That’s... new. Are you two together?”

“Not yet,” Remus says, without taking his eyes off Sirius. “But as soon as Padfoot is well enough to walk, he’s going to make up for being a stubborn idiot by taking me to a fancy restaurant for a candlelit dinner, and he’ll better have asked me to be his boyfriend before dessert.”

Sirius’ face breaks out in a grin. “It’s a date!”

[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.

[jlalafics]

“Operator”-an Everlark Ficlet

For @mrspeetamellark, who wanted “Peeta’s dirty filthy sex talk”. Enjoy!

Katniss couldn’t believe she was doing this.

Delly had convinced her that this would broaden her horizons.

Apparently, that’s what she needed after a dumping such as hers.

Her year-long relationship with Cato had ended with a bitter fight and him telling her that she was bore in the bedroom. Then, he promptly informed her that he was moving out of their apartment to shack up with Clove, a little beast of a woman who had clawed her way up into Cato’s penis.

That was fine. The relationship had been going downhill months ago.

However, this was kind of a new low for her.

She went to the mirror in the corner of her bedroom, looking at her reflection and wondering if the black nightie was necessary.

Then, pouring a glass of wine from the bottle on her bedside table, Katniss pulled out a card with the scantily clad man on it and dialed the number.

It rang a twice.

She told herself she would hang up on the third, when someone suddenly picked up the line.

“Hello?” came a smooth, deep voice.

“Hi,” she croaked out nervously. “This is stupid.”

The man on the phone chuckled. “I hope not. It’s how I make a living.”

“Oh hell—I’m sorry!” Katniss slap her palm to her forehead. “I’ve never done this before, but my friend suggested it as a way to help me discover ‘my sexual goddess’—whatever the fuck that means.”

“Sounds like you’ve been going through something,” the man replied. “Want to tell me about it?”

“I’ve been living with my ex for a year and he just dumped me for a girl who will let him put it anywhere he wants.”

“Ouch. Sounds like a real charmer.”

“You bet,” she responded wryly. “I’m not too sad about it. I’m more insulted that he thought I was boring in bed. I mean, I would’ve let him put it anywhere, but some foreplay would’ve been nice. Also, being completely silent while I’m pulling out the big guns didn’t help.”

“Some guys expect women to just automatically go for anything,” the man said. “But I find that, in healthy sexual relationships, there has to be an equal amount of give and take.”

“Exactly!” Katniss took a sip from her glass and sat back against the pillows of her bed. “You seem like a decent person. Why are you working on a phone sex line?”

“Because I enjoy it,” he told her simply. “Also, this is just an evening job.”

“So, it’s like a stripper at night and paralegal by day kind of thing,” she replied.

The man chuckled. “Kind of. I have a pretty standard office job.”

“Me, too.” Katniss took another sip, her nerves beginning to relax. “So, how do we do this?”

“Let’s start with your name,” he told her.

“Katniss.”

“Katniss,” he repeated.

His voice tightened at the last bit of her name and she straightened at the change of tone.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, it’s just a very different name,” the man said. “But very pretty. I think I’m going to like saying it into your ear as you come.”

Her nipples immediately tightened at his words. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” He laughed roughly. “What pretty little thing are you wearing for me?”

“I knew you were going to ask that, at some point.” Katniss fingered the strap of her nightie. “I’m wearing a black nightie with lace along the top.”

“Sounds lovely,” the man replied. “Tell me; do you feel uncomfortable taking instructions?”

“Depends.” She smiled into receiver. “What are you going to tell me to do?”

“Give me a name,” he told her. “A name that means something to you. A name that turns you on. But I don’t want you to say it until you come.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

There was only one name that Katniss wanted to say.

He, however, was unattainable.

“Close your eyes.” His voice was low, and the timbre instantly electrified her…down there. “I can tell that you’re analyzing every single part of this call…what I must be thinking about you…what I look like—am I right?”

Katniss giggled. “Exactly.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “I closed them.”

“I think that you’re a brave woman who’s taking control of her sexual life.” The man breathed against the receiver and Katniss shivered imagining his warm breath against her ear. “I’m blond, average height, with blue eyes. Imagine me in your mind.”

Katniss took a deep breath, the image of a man forming in her head. She saw him, undoing her favorite red tie, removing his black loafers, before lying next to her.

“I’m playing with the strap of your gown, Katniss…what were you doing before I came home?”

“Drinking wine…imagining what we would be doing once you got home,” she stuttered out. “I’m not good at this.”

“You were doing beautifully,” he assured her. “The tone of your voice…low…grounded…I bet you growl when you’re turned on…and I'd love to make you growl…”

Katniss felt the gush as her core pulsed at his words. She had foregone underwear and could see her arousal gleaming on her inner thighs.

“While you were waiting for me, did you touch yourself?”

Her fingers traced along the opening of her gown. “Yes…”

“Oh fuck—” He groaned into the receiver and the sound traveled straight to her cunt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Just thinking about coming home to you made me hard—” There was a grunt on her speaker, and she gasped at the image of him, cock straining through the zipper of his pants. “I had to close the door to my office and stroke myself to the thought of you…”

Katniss mewled into the phone, her hand traveling down between her legs as the other massaged her breast.

“God…”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he rumbled on the line. “I’m kneeling in front of you, open your cunt for me—”

“What?”

“Take those pretty little fingers of yours and use them to spread your labia, Katniss. I want to see that lovely hole…the one that I’m going to stick my fingers…then my tongue…and finally my cock—”

Behind her eyes, Katniss imagined this mystery man kneeling before her and using her index and middle finger, spread her outer lips apart to his hungry eyes.

“Mmmm…more…” She groaned into the phone. “I want more…please…”

“I got you—” Katniss could hear shifting and wondered if she was actually turning this stranger on. “You’re so wet for me, Katniss. I bet you taste delicious...go on…taste yourself.”

Losing herself in his voice, she lifted her hand to her mouth and stuck her fingers in her mouth.

“I can hear you sucking on your fingers.” He sounded desperate. “What do you taste like?”

She moved her fingers from her lips. “Light…but musky…”

The man moaned into the receiver. “Do you want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” she growled. “I need you inside me.”

Her fingers went back to drenched core, moving along her inner lips, and dancing along her entrance.

“Undo my belt,” he commanded. “I can’t wait anymore, Katniss. I want you to pull out my cock. I want you to rub your cunt against my pants so every time I wear them, I can remember my dick ramming into that soaked hole of yours—fuck!”

Katniss took her fingers, plunging them straight into her core. “UH!” She lost herself in the motion, her hips jerking as she fucked herself—or in her mind, he fucked her—into oblivion. “I’m going to come…”

“Me too, baby,” he moaned. “Touch your clit, make yourself come for me, Katniss…”

Her hand went to her pearl, circling the peaked nerve, and she felt the crest of her climax in sight.

“Don’t forget…” he demanded. “Say my name…say my name when you come—”

Her whole body arched, tensing, before she crashed, and her hips bucked as the white-hot pleasure blinded her.

“FUCK—PEETA!”

She could hear his ragged breaths as her hips landed back on her mattress.

“Oh God…that was amazing.”

“You are amazing,” he breathed, almost tenderly.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the phone. “I thought that maybe my ex was right—that I was a horrible lay. But it wasn’t me. He just never inspired me…or made me want…you did.”

“Katniss?”

Her eyes opened slowly. “Yes?”

“It’s me—” He took a deep breath. “Peeta.”

She snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Today is your 25th birthday.” Katniss shot up at his words. “Your office gave you a cake—chocolate with strawberries on top and almonds sprinkled on the sides, along with a bottle of wine.” Her eyes went to the open bottle of pinot. “My office is right across from yours—and I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you.”

“Peeta…” Her eyes filled. “Two years?”

“Two years,” he confirmed. “Delly told me that you and Cato broke up. I had to take a chance even if it was this.”

“Do you actually work as a phone sex operator?”

“No,” he replied. “Delly made that flier.”

“Damn her and her graphic skills,” she muttered.

“Do you hate me? For lying to you?” Peeta asked carefully. “If you ended up not calling, I was going to ask you out on Monday, but I understand if you never want to speak to me—”

“Peeta.” He stopped. “Would you really do all the things you said over the phone?”

“Fuck yes.”

Katniss laid back against her pillows. She didn’t want to wait till Monday to see him.

So, she told him her address.

FIN.

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Illicit affairs -Chapter 1

summary: harry osborn is a flirt and justin hammer is a jackass. y/n tells peter that he is an idiot, again. & black cat wants to know what night are they talking about. 

Listen to: Maniac -Conan Grey & my tears ricochet - Taylor Swift

word count: 7.5k

(author’s note at the end now)

series masterlist

(the gif is so funny out of context but like literally)

You’d never been to the OSCORP tower before. You had met Norman and Harry when you still lived in Malibu and they lived in Silicon Valley, they had attended a couple of galas that had become mandatory for you to go in order represent the Stark’s family name but other than that, there hadn’t been much interaction. 

Especially since Tony and Norman never got along; they had run in the same circle since the ’90s and they had vastly different ideas on what was important. For one, Tony loved what he did and he was passionate about any advancement he could make, but Norman was downright miserable with a sickly ambition. Moreover, he dived into extreme genetic projects that could be dangerous if mixed with business, so as soon as Norman suggested something to Tony and he shut him down, leaving a bitter taste on Norman’s mouth.

You wove your way through the reception that was daunting with a set of intricate security, more than what you had actually expected. Now you knew what Tony had meant with Norman being paranoid. You passed the multiple security stations and smiled when no machine or security guard noticed the mass amount of energy you were carrying on your necklace, where your suit was contained. You had been working for months when you first got to Europe so you could carry it undetected, it had failed a couple of times and so, it had forced you to work out even harder, in case you couldn’t use your suit. 

You finished passing through the security detail and manage to made your way to the receptionist, who seemed to be rather annoyed with the sheer amount of calls he was receiving.  

“Hi, sorry to bother you”, you smiled, looking down at him but he didn’t even raise his head, you stopped talking but then he motioned his hand for you to continue. “Okay…I’m here to see Mr. Osborn, we have an appointment”

“Your name?”, the receptionist asked, still not looking at you which made your eye twitch in annoyance. 

“Y/N Stark”, you answered, the receptionist snorted, and then he raised his head. He went pale when he realized it was you, you smiled in return as he pulled off his headset and smiled at you. 

“Mr. Osborn has been waiting for you”, he said as he quickly motioned a security guard to come to the desk and placed his headset on his head again. “Also, there’s this guy over there who said he was with you”, he mentioned as he pointed at Peter who was passing through the last security detail. 

Peter rushed to get next to you, he had been swinging through the city and you could tell by how his curls were messier than how they usually got if he was running. You couldn’t help but to smile at his face at his state, his brows were knitted in a frown as he tried to catch his breath, the way his nose wrinkled made you want to shed a tear or two, you remembered how it usually made your heart burst whenever he did that. 

“I’m so sorry, I had class and…”, Peter mumbled but he stopped again to breathe.

You knew that Peter didn’t want to come to Oscorp, it had been years since he had gotten bitten by that radioactive spider on a class trip but you were more than sure that it still triggered something in him. You had assured him that you could go alone, but being as stubborn as he was, he said he would go with you. 

“Peter, don’t worry”, you said sweetly as you place your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. “It’s okay”

Peter froze at your touch and you felt the tension on his muscles so you quickly took your hand off his shoulder. It all felt rather nostalgic to both of you, the way you trusted each other, how you knew you had each other’s back and understood. But this wasn’t like before and you knew it couldn’t be. 

You cleared your throat and turned around to the security guard, signaling to him that you were ready to go see Mr. Osborn. 

The small walk to the elevator was rather awkward as disjointed, not knowing who would go first and where to follow. Soon, you were surrounded by two other security guards when you reached the top floor where you were supposed to have the meeting. 

Fury had been the one to call Norman, thinking that he wouldn’t take it seriously if you or Peter had made the call. Norman, aside from being paranoid, was a real asshole and everyone knew it, his employees lived in constant fear about any of his outbursts but they decided to stay because of his work with genetics, which was unique. You rolled your eyes at the thought of him, you remembered the disdain on his light green eyes when you had said ‘hi’ in one of the galas a couple of years ago. 

Knowing this, it didn’t surprise you that when the elevator opened to a floor with one corridor surrounded by glass windows with different machines and people working inside before you could even step out, the glasses began to get foggy and soon they turned white, blocking the view of whatever they were doing inside. 

Completely paranoid, you thought as you walked out of the elevator. 

The security guard guided you to the end of the hallway to a large office and then opened the door. You were expecting to find a much older fragile guy with an unhinged look on his face, that’s how you imagined Norman would look but instead, you found Harry. 

You remember being younger and having a crush on Harry for about a week when you still lived in Malibu, he was cute when he was younger but now, he was hot. 

His almond eyes always looked good with his chiseled cheekbones and jaw, his smile was worth a thousand dollars, and his dark short hair framed his face perfectly. He had this bad boy look to him and you wondered how many girls and boys had fallen for him, you had heard a lot about Harry since you were put in the same group by the media: The prodigies’ heirs. You knew he was meant to carry the Osborn legacy like you were in charge of the Stark’s legacy but you also knew he liked to party and drink a little bit more than he should. 

“Y/N!”, he said as he smirked at you, offering his hands and you took it, smiling softly at him before he placed a kiss over it. 

“Nice to see you, H”, you answered as you tried your best not to blush. 

Peter stayed behind you, rolling his eyes at the interaction as he saw how the guards quickly closed the door when Peter turned around. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while, I was hoping you could go with me to a few galas but I heard you were traveling”, Harry continued as he offered one of the seats in front of his large desks, you whispered a small thank you as you sat down and then Harry sat in front of you with a large grin. 

You turned around for a second to see Peter placing the glasses that Tony had given him for the mission, they were to be shared by the two of you but you had discussed yesterday over the phone that he should be the one wearing them since you had to handle Osborn. 

Plus, Peter knew how to managed them better and the program E.D.I.T.H, you watch him scanning the room with his eyes and knew this was your turn to shine. 

“Yeah, I needed to leave New York for a while”, you explained to him as you fixed your black blazer and the white blouse that you decided to wear that day.

Harry snickered at you, while he pointed at you with one finger as he waved his hand. 

“You got in trouble, didn’t you?”, Harry asked with a gleam of malice on his eyes as he let out a little laugh of satisfaction. “Perfect y/n Stark in trouble”

You shuddered at the nickname, it brought you back the memories in Malibu as more information from you got out and it became a staple every time paparazzi caught you on the street and printed it on the magazine covers. You couldn’t help but feel your heart squeezing momentarily on your chest. 

But then you gazed back at Harry, the delight in his eyes made you frustrated, he was enjoying himself, like the fact that you had messed up placed you on the same level as him. Sometimes you wondered if he even remembered that you were an avenger too, that you couldn’t disclose missions or that maybe he was playing dumb to get something out.

But you weren’t dumb or playing his games. 

 “You know us, trust fund kids”, you leered as you play with your hair, “We have our daddies to bail us out”, You smiled coyly as Harry chuckled -more to himself than anything-. 

Peter felt sick as he heard you, rolling his eyes to the back of his skull. He knew you were acting, the way your voice was higher than usual, and how you were playing with a strand of your hair as you smiled demurely at Harry. But he couldn’t help but hate it, it wasn’t you.

“Come on Stark”, Harry continued, intrigued by what you had said, “DUI? Cocaine? Sex in the wrong place?”, he asked. “Been there, done that. It’s not that bad, why did you leave?”

You smirked while you shook your head, negating to answer. 

“Oh, Harry, what would your dad say about that?”, you pointed out. 

Harry licked his lips with a grin, although he looked another way, his eyes a bit gloomy as he recalled his couple of indiscretions. 

You knew Harry didn’t have a good relationship with his father, he was the complete opposite for Norman and he was known for being an absent father. Harry grew up with nannies since her mother left and returned to Shanghai, Norman got full custody. The only thing Norman cared about when it came to Harry, was that he was almost as intelligent as him and should be the next one in charge of Oscorp. 

“He wouldn’t care as long as I was here working in the morning”, he finally said. 

You felt bad for Harry, you placed your hand over his in solidarity, not meaning anything more and Harry smiled sincerely back at you. 

 But then Peter cleared his throat. 

“Can we know what Black Cat stole? We have another meeting”, he asked as he frowned at your interaction with him, his lips in a tight line as he removed the glasses for a moment. 

Harry rolled his eyes as he stood up, he hadn’t even acknowledged Peter and he didn’t care to do so. 

“Come with me”, he muttered as he stood up and opened the door of the office and you followed him swiftly as you glared at Peter for the interruption while he simply shrugged. 

You followed Harry through the main hallway where you had walked and then quickly turned to the left, commenting about the updates his father had ordered to be more… private with their different projects. 

“Your dad updated the security system after the attack of Black Cat?”, you asked as you finally reached a rather smaller lab compared to the rest. 

Harry nodded over his shoulder to you before he reached the door, where a little camera appeared out of the blue while the wall opened to reveal more intricate security equipment. 

“So, your dad didn’t already have all of this before Black Cat attacked?”, Peter asked Harry as he quickly placed his E.D.I.T.H glasses. 

You smirked as you saw Peter’s eyes moving quickly, guessing he was reading all the information that had been given to him by the AI. 

“The eye recognition is new, he installed it two days ago when he knew that you were coming”, Harry mentioned as a red line scanned his eye.

Peter and you gazed at each other in astonishment, which Harry noticed right away thanks to the silence. 

“My dad doesn’t like your dad, he just wants to be safe”, he muttered as he placed a combination in the little pad with numbers over it. 

“Your dad clearly knows how to hold a grudge”, you answered as you rolled your eyes. 

Harry turned around with a grin, “Don’t mention it”, he said as he finally placed his hand on a little pad under the numbers. 

He then took a step back and after a few seconds, the door finally opened. 

It was a rather dark room, just about two people were working on the lab right at the moment, and with the deemed lights, you could only see the green glow in the different small tests tubes and stronger sources of lights coming from the various terrariums and tanks that held different animals: blue coral snakes, cone snails, pufferfish, among others. 

You felt a shiver ran down your spine as you saw how one of the workers carefully took one of the blue corals' snakes and began extracting its venom, the snake recoiled and was more aggressive than anything, it seemed like the worker was having issues with it but soon, she took a hold of the snakes tail and forced it into the machine with big needles that were in charge of extracting the venom, you could hear the hisses of pain. You turned around, feeling like you couldn’t see any more, only to find small containers, near the edge of the room and rather down where dead animals in the canister. 

You felt like you could throw up, but you turned around to see Peter, whose gaze was glued to the little test tubes. 

Peter could feel the weight on his shoulders as he recalled the bite of the spider on the nape of his neck, the stinging and the horrible sensation that followed, he was sure he was going to die because of the pain but soon, it went away faster than he expected. 

Only to find the next morning that everything had changed. 

You could tell that Peter was struggling, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable like you had done earlier in the lobby. Nonetheless, the instinctive movement came alone, you offered your hand to him while Harry was not looking as he discussed something with the workers at the other end of the room.

Peter’s eyes followed your hand and he took it in a second, without even giving it much thought. His eyes connected to yours and you could feel the warmth in his smile, his eyes staring at you contemplatively as he tightened his hold on your hand while you tried to ignore how his gaze still set your pulse of fire, it annoyed you how after all this time, you still felt like that when he looked at you. 

“Sorry for the delay”, you both heard, causing your heads to whip to where Harry was. 

You quickly let go of Peter’s hand as he managed to choke a whimper as he felt your warm hand leaving, your touch in any way always made him feel grounded and it had been a while since.

Harry stood in front of you with a little test tube with fluorescent green liquid, while you came closer to him, removing your blazer and tying it to your hips. You tried to reach for it but Harry quickly took a step back as he shook his head. 

“You have to wear gloves, this is rather an unusual substance”, he explained while you huffed.

“What does it do?”

“This baby is a mix of the best neuromuscular blocking agents we could find in nature”, Harry said as he shook it a bit. “They cause a rather faster and more heavy muscles relaxation by binding to the acetylcholine receptors postsynaptically”

Peter walked to your side, as he analyzed the substance with the help of E.D.I.T.H and he didn’t like what she was telling him. 

“It blocks neuromuscular transmissions at what pace?”, Peter asked while looking a bit distressed.

Harry huffed as he started to recall, you felt a little bit anxious as you waited for Harry’s answer. Because if you were thinking correctly, Norman was playing with dangerous things. 

“It’s faster than anectine”, Harry muttered as he gave the little test tube back to one of the workers. 

“But anectine has an onset effect of three minutes”, you replied quickly while you walked towards the back of the room, following the worker who placed it in a refrigerating closet with hundreds of it. 

“Exactly”, Harry said behind you. “This new substance can take less than ten seconds if you put it through IV and one minute through another medium”

“But why?”, Peter asked. 

“This is much stronger, you know that FDA approved drugs that do the same thing are less heavy but if we get this right, it can change everything”, Harry explained as you turned around with a glare. 

“This can become a weapon, H”, you growled while Harry simply rolled his eyes.  

You quickly walked out of the room, Harry and Peter looked at each other for a second but then followed you swiftly outside. Peter giving another look at the lab so E.D.I.T.H could finalize its review before the door finally closed sealed. 

“It can save lives, imagine if you have an accident or are injured in a place that’s farther away from any hospital or any type of medical care. If you need to have an emergency surgical process, but they don’t have even the simplest drugs to put you out at the exact moment, it decreases your chances of survival. You are screwed if you have first aid kits and you can find a way to make the tools needed for surgery but there’s nothing that can replace this”, Harry explained as you glared at him in the hallway. 

“You can kill them, if they don’t have mechanical ventilation aid, they die”, you snapped at him as you passed a hand through your hair but then you saw Harry’s smirk. “What?”

“You don’t need mechanical ventilation with that”, he explained with gleaming eyes and a wide smile. “It’s brilliant!”

But you remained silent as you process the repercussions of what he was saying, but before you could say anything Peter spoke. 

“But that means, that the person’s still conscious and able to breathe on their own”, Peter muttered as Harry and you stared at him. “You are basically trapped on your own body”

Harry’s smile faded rather quickly at Peter’s words, his excitement was gone as he processed what Peter was saying and even doubt could be perceived on his factions. 

“Please, tell me that at least that wears off quickly as well”, you asked Harry with your eyes closed. 

Harry’s answer still haunted you as you drove back to New York, you decided it was best to take your car than to fly with Peter hanging to you by a threat. It wasn’t a long flight from Staten Island to Washington Heights, but you had decided to not wear your suit too often and somehow you felt like you needed to process all that information. Black Cat was working with Kingpin, who was clearly in the mood for selling dangerous weapons to any kinds of people, this could have rather a short term and long term repercussions, if you were correct this stuff could be used by the burglar next door who would simply paralyze anyone on their way and even kill them or even grand stake villains such as Hydra soldiers or Scorpio. 

Harry had assured you that they were still looking for an antidote and that it was going to come rather quickly, but your anxiety wasn’t slowing down at any moment. Peter could feel it too, you had asked him if he wanted a ride and he was happy that you had even offered it, considering that he thought that you would make him swing all the way to Washington Heights, but he wasn’t sure how much good it would make if you didn’t talk. The ride was long, and none of you broke the silence. He wanted to assure you that it would be okay, that you would catch the bad guys as you always did but, deep down, he understood how dangerous it could be. 

Nonetheless, with the recollection that E.D.I.T.H had made, it seemed like with your help and Bruce, he could find out a rather faster antidote than what Harry had promised back at Oscorp and, although he still had to analyze the venom and its effects on his body, he was sure his body would metabolize fast enough to do any harm. 

“We are here”, you muttered as Peter took off quickly the glasses that were trying to decode some of the Oscorp data about the venom, so it could expand its information. 

“I’ve never met Justin Hammer”, Peter explained. “I was that day at the Stark Expo and I can clearly remember how one of the Iron man suits was in front of me and I swore I had blasted it with my toy, but… Tony was the one that did it”

You smiled as you turned around at Peter’s story, you remember how he always told it at dinner time and how much Tony loved it too. 

But you also recalled how nervous you were for your father and Pepper, how he had disappeared for a couple of days as he fixed his arc reactor, and how you had been ushered out of the Expo, Happy driving you and Nat to where Vanko was. You still couldn’t believe how Hammer hadn’t lost his company after that, or even how he had gone to jail for just a year and a half before he was let out on parole. 

He was an asshole back then and it seemed he was an asshole still. 

“Well, well, well”, Hammer chuckled to himself as he received you in the lobby, still on a grey way to tight suit with wanna-be-Tony glasses “Who do we have here? Lovely to see you, little Stark”

Your eye twitched at the nickname, as you offered your hand in response. 

“Can’t say the same thing”, you muttered while Peter walked next to you. “Peter, Hammer and Hammer, Peter”, you quickly said uninterested in having any more of a small interaction with him. 

But Hammer was Hammer. 

“Didn’t know you could drag your boyfriend to official meetings, it’s not very professional of the avengers”, he teased with a large grin as he shook Peter’s hand while his eyes were still were glued to you. 

Peter could feel how his cheeks began to blush, stammering to deny the relationship while your nostrils flared and you crossed your arms across your chest. 

“He is my father’s intern that helps not only to advance Stark’s Industries largest projects, which is at its best”, you said arrogantly. “He also helps the avengers, I think you wouldn’t know since not many want to work with you!”, a slight conceited smile grew on your lips. 

Peter felt like he wanted to hide from the poison on your words but he also felt extremely fascinated but this new phase of you. Maybe while you were in Europe, you found yourself more and an actual voice. Maybe, after your fight, you weren’t taking anybody’s shit. 

He was somehow glad and in awe. 

“Oh spicy!”, Hammer shouted as he gave a playful nudge to you and his bodyguards behind him, giggling to himself while you simply rolled your eyes. “Love that for you, follow me”

The ride to one of the top floors wasn’t exactly long, but it felt like an eternity since Hammer couldn’t stop talking about what he was doing at the moment, how successful he was, how jail had been a wake-up call to him and had changed him to the core. He kept talking about how he had been given motivational talks all over Europe, and that had been sold out, but you doubted. You doubted all of this. You zone out, as you tried to isolate yourself from his non-stopping chattering.  

And then, he showed you the little marble size neutralizers. 

“Does this really work?”, you said as you played with the small device in your hands, you quickly tapped your earpiece and silently asked H.A.P.P.Y to study it, as the sleeve of your suit began to appear out of nowhere. 

You could feel Hammer’s eye twitching as he saw the technology you had, but he quickly changed his demure while he muttered, “Same sense of humor as your father”. 

Peter interrupted Hammer’s glued gaze to your suit as H.A.P.P.Y, your AI, analyzed it. 

“But do they?”, Peter asked as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as Hammer turned around. 

“What?”

“Work?”, Peter asked once more as you finished your scan and gave it to Peter, so he could examine it on his own. 

But Hammer quickly snatched it from your hand as he began to play with it, his lack of seriousness caused you to feel irritable. 

“No, these little suckers don’t. She took the wrong batch and couldn’t snatch the real ones”, he said smugly, as he then threw the marble to a trashcan close to you, he failed and the marble began to roll on the floor. “But these over there…”

Peter barely burst into laughs and so did you, until your eyes gaze to the back of the enormous white lab where a line of production was still moving, towards where Hammer was pointing. 

“Where are those?”, you asked as you walked towards them. 

“Well, these are the ones”, Hammer said as he ran behind you and Peter did the same. “These can knock out the entire Empire State building energy system”

“That means…”

“There’s a real possibility that she might be back”, Peter suggested wide-eyed as the line of marbles continued. 

“I guess so”, Hammer shrugged as he continued to watch the little neutralizers being made. 

You stayed silent as you gazed at Peter and he nodded. 

“I need to know how did she entered last time, the exact time, and see if we can install better security cameras”, you ordered the bodyguards and the assistant of Hammer that were behind him, all of them nodded without question, leaving Hammer looking rather confused on how you could command his employees. 

“Why do you need all that, little Stark?”, Hammer asked as he placed his hand behind the nape of his neck, clearly not getting any of it. 

“We are going to be patrolling tonight”, you said as you raised an eyebrow mischievously towards Peter who smiled back at you. 

It took about three calls to have a SHIELD team on Hammer Industries, installing better cameras and for the security body to start explaining to both you and Peter how Black Cat had entered and the possible weakest points on the building, but it seemed like the rooftop was always the weakest point since the windows right below it were the ones Black Cat had used to get inside. You called Tony to let him know your plan, while Peter went back to Queens to leave some stuff from university and he wanted to still leave E.D.I.T.H in a safe place, so he had to go through Stark Tower as well. Either way, he needed “to go” so Spiderman could come back to work with you.  

Around 9:00 pm or so, you heard Peter’s characteristic thiwp!  

You turned around as he landed behind you on the rooftop of the building, he had a different suit than the last one you had seen him with. This new model was black and red, a longshot from the blue and red or the iron-spider suit that you had seen him with before you left New York. 

“Nice of you to show up”, you said with a slight smile while Peter walked towards you. 

“Why aren’t you wearing your suit yet?”, Peter asked, standing next to you. 

Your body urged to lean against him, as you usually did but you forced yourself not to do it. He was taller than before, you had always been the same height but now he seemed to pass you by a couple of inches, you shuddered at the memory of him holding you against a wall but you shook your head, walking away from Peter. 

“I wore that suit for far too long when I was away, I like to wear it now when I really need it”, you explained to him, walking around looking at your feet. 

Peter nodded as he trailed behind you, “It was too much work?”, he asked slowly. 

“A lot more than what I was used to”, you admitted as you faced Peter with a smile. “But it was worth it, either way”

Peter was being cautious, he didn’t want to scare you since you had actually had a nice day together without any issues, he felt like with time both of you would simply gravitate together like you had before everything got so messed up. He liked to think that the pain would go away, that you wouldn’t hurt each other anymore, but that was foolish and disrespectful to you. 

To think that you could forgive him without even saying sorry, to think that he would simply go back to how you were without him knowing what happened that day. And although he knew that you maybe didn’t want to talk about it, he knew that if he didn’t try to fix it, then he would regret it forever. 

“Y/N, we should talk”

You froze as you heard Peter’s words and you decided that flying at that exact moment, away from the rooftop, away from him; would be a great idea. 

The feeling of not being enough, of feeling so stupid for not foreseeing what was going to happened seemed to overwhelm you. Those feelings that began as hurt turned into resent and anger, more than what you would like to admit. 

You’ve had a nice day, not that you were being too close like before by any means but you wished that he could just let it be. But you knew it was foolish and disrespectful to him not to give him a chance to talk, to understand what had happened that day. 

“What do you have to say?”

Peter raised his eyebrows, not that you could see it completely with his mask on but he was surprised that you had agreed on it. He quickly walked closer to you, his scent invading your space and you had to close your eyes as you tried not to be dazed by the smell of cinnamon and honey. 

“I mean, can you tell me what happened?”, Peter asked you and you literally felt your heart squeezing on your chest. 

Is he that oblivious? you thought to yourself.

“Weren’t you there?”

Peter rolled his eyes at your statement. 

“You know what I mean y/n”, he watched you as you raised your eyebrow. 

“No, I don’t,” you snarled, “You know exactly what happened, why do you want to play dumb?”, snapping at Peter’s stance, you knew him well enough to know that he should have a dumbfounded expression under the mask. 

“I’m not playing dumb, y/n!”  

“But you are!”, you snapped with your face pinched with your cheeks growing hot as each second passed. “Why you want to taunt me with this? Why do you feel the need to bring this up again?”

You could feel your chest getting heavier as each word left your mouth, the tears building up in your eyes as you watched Peter, narrowed eyes and harsh breaths began to feel the air once more. 

“Because we were best friends!”

“Well, what good did that do?”, you snarled at him and now you felt your tears falling from your eyes, and you hated it. You hated feeling like that, helpless. “Best friends know the other more than they know themselves, best friends tell each other what’s happening in their lives, best friends care about each other’s feelings, they don’t hurt the other as you hurt me!”

“How on earth did I hurt you, y/n?”, Peter snapped back at you, irritation growing on his chest, “Getting together with Gwen? Did you think that I would leave you behind? You never told me anything!”

You stayed silent for a moment, the image of Peter kissing Gwen repeated over and over again on your head. You remember the anger you felt against yourself, you remember how you hated being a coward, you hated it, and yet, here was Peter reminding you about it. 

“Your naiveté amazes me sometimes”, you scoffed as you got closer to him for a second, watching him with disdain. 

“Oh my god, would you just tell me?”, Peter sighed loudly, you were sure he was rolling his eyes as you wiped the tears away from your face, “You are acting extremely…”

“Come on, go ahead and say it!”, you yelled at him, throwing overboard whatever composure you had held through the day. 

“Immature, you are immature!”, Peter yelled back and it stung, more than what you would like to admit. “Can you just stop this and tell me for god’s sake?”

You shook your head, you couldn’t even believe that you had allowed this conversation to go for as long as it had, and with what Peter was saying, he didn’t even seem like himself. The more you heard his words, the more you believed that he actually didn’t know you. 

“Figure it out by yourself and leave me an alone idiot!”, you tried to say in a stentorian voice, but it came out much smaller than you thought. 

You felt tired, the energy it took to fight Peter, the energy it took to call him out on his cluelessness, it took a toll on you. Bottling up feelings had been your defense mechanism for so long, that sometimes when you wanted to say your mind, your throat hurt and your heartfelt heavy. 

The lump never seemed to leave, neither the heaviness and in conversations like this, they seemed more prominent. 

Peter stayed silent for a moment as he saw your chest coming up and down, the tears rolling from your checks and he hated it, he hated himself for causing it but he also hated you for not telling him anything, silence had always been your favorite weapon and it stung. 

But still, you were you and he didn’t want to see you upset. He quickly tried to take a hold of your hand but you snatched it away, almost instinctively. 

“What’s your problem?” 

The air between both of you was rather thick, Peter and you remained silent as you securely were watching one another. It seemed that all that resentment and anger and hurt had been left in the air, the bubble was still there but nothing seemed to be able to pop it. 

And you knew it would be harder to breathe each time that you found one another, only causing more pain.

Who would want to live like that? You asked yourself, as you decided to simply let go. 

“My problem is that I liked you,” you confessed, “I loved you and you disregarded my feelings and got together with Gwen”

Peter remained stunned for a second, or two. He had been waiting years, years for you to finally confess your feelings for him. He dreamed of it since he met you but he had talked himself out of it, simply assuming that you were brave, that you would tell him if there were feelings on your part, but you only treated him as a friend, except for…

 “Why didn’t you tell me!”, he complained and you shot him a glare. 

“Oh, come on, don’t act like that night wasn’t anything!”

“What night?”, the sultry strange voice seemed almost like a purr.

You whipped your heads towards where the voice came from and there she was, on the edge of the building standing delicately. Her long silver (almost white) hair was tightly wrapped up in a tall ponytail with two strands of hair framing her face perfectly. It seemed it complimented her almost purple eyes that shined from behind the black mask that covered most of the upper region of her face but let out on the open her plump lips that had an intense dark red lipstick that suited her well. 

Then her black leather costume with soft white lines was, well, tight everywhere. It framed her body perfectly, it almost seemed like it was a second skin, her boy was voluptuous and beautiful, her hands looked like claws and those nails seemed like they could cut ice, almost like they were knives on their own.

“Lovely to see you, Spidey”, she said to Peter, her silky voice gave you tingles as you quickly reacted and pressed the charm on your necklace. 

The suit started to hug your body when Black Cat turned around and a grin was drawn on her face as she watched you transforming yourself into the hero that you were. Her eyes gleaming at the sight of your suit as she licked her lips, you felt almost embarrassed as if you were laid bare in front of her. 

“You brought me a new one,” she cooed, “and the prettiest, nonetheless”

You felt your cheeks getting warm as she got closer to you, her hips swinging from side to side as she walked and you placed yourself in a defensive stand. 

She giggled to herself, clearly loving the possible challenge. 

“That’s enough Cat”, Peter snapped as he shot one of his webs and caught her hand. 

Black Cat chuckled to herself, as she quickly slashed Peter’s web from her hand and threw a little explosive towards where he was, forcing Peter to retreat for a second but before she could turn around to run, she faced you, you quickly took a hold of her shoulder and cocked your head. 

“Sorry Kitty”, you muttered before you pushed her down to the floor as you kneeled, her head bounced against the concrete and she groaned. 

She glared back at you and before you knew it, she wrapped her legs on your neck as she did a candlestick and then pulled you down as she rolled over you, leaving you under her legs. You quickly took a hold of her waist, as you tried to get her off from you but her hold on your neck was rather tight. 

Her eyes rolled to the back of her skull as she watched you and leaned down a bit, “You look so pretty like that”, she whispered. 

You took that second to recover from her statement and you took a hold of her neck, tightly, hoping that she would let go of yours, but it seemed like she enjoyed just the amount of pressure that you placed on her neck. She quickly placed her hands on your hand as her eyes remained glued to yours. 

“Harder, pretty please?”, she purred and you could feel your hold getting looser by her words. 

“Oh my god, stop!”, you yelled at her, knowing that if you removed your mask, she would be able to see the corners of the lips turn upward, although you were trying so hard not to. 

Peter quickly grabbed her by the arms and peeled her off from you with force, giving you space to breathe a bit again, she giggled as Peter took a hold of her tightly from behind. She struggled to get free as Peter pressed her elbows together in an attempt to immobilize her. 

“She always does that,” Peter assured you as he grunted while he tried to keep her steady. “She wants to make you uncomfortable”

Black Cat rolled her eyes, “Or maybe because I like her?”, she provoked as she winked at you. “You look good Spidey,” she stated as she coiled on Peter’s arms who seemed to be having trouble holding her as you stood up and tried to help, still feeling rather embarrassed by her attention. “Been working out?”, she asked. 

You walked to where Black Cat being held by Peter who was waiting for you to place vibranium bracelets so you could take her to the respective authorities. It had been quicker than what you had planned, especially since Peter hadn’t been able to catch her on his own before. But alone, you were sure that she would’ve sat on you for a longer time. 

“Stop”, Peter growled, completely focused on holding her still so the vibranium bracelets would hold her correctly. 

“So, what happened between the two of you?”, she asked while you watched her intently. “Fucked him and left him, Stark?”

“That’s a lot of questions”, you answered her as you ordered H.A.P.P.Y to generate the vibranium bracelets, you saw her purple-ish eyes watching you up and down before you walked behind her. 

“I’m just curious”, she whispered, shrugging slightly. 

Peter shook his head. “Yeah, I hear that’s bad for cats”, he muttered slowly while your suit began to generate the vibranium bracelets but before you could place them on her, she got into action. 

She quickly gave Peter a swift backward kick that hit him right on his… web shooter and let herself loose, she quickly recovered her hands and began to run towards the edge of the building, to where she had accessed the lab last time. 

You didn’t waste a second, soon you were flying towards her and as she jumped from the edge of the building, right in the mid of the air, you managed to grab her, stopping her and effectively, managing to take the air on her lungs because of the impact. You quickly managed to rise higher into the air and then back up to the rooftop where Peter was calling you through the com but Black Cat recovered quickly, and she coiled on your arms and before you knew it, she slashed one of your sleeves with her claws. 

You hissed as you watched your arm, she had managed to remove a couple of the nanobots that made your suit, it wasn’t too deep but she had managed to cut you, which was concerning because it meant that those claws were made by something strong. 

“Ow!”, you grumbled. “Are you crazy?”

You then gazed at her and she was smirking as she tried to take another hit at your chest, without any doubt you let go of her, right above where Peter was waiting for both of you. 

“Web her up!”, you ordered Peter as Black Cat fell and began to be wrapped in Peter’s web as he shot at her repeatedly but every time he managed to immobilize one hand or her legs, she slashed his web with her other claw. 

“I can’t get her!”, Peter grunted as he continued to shoot at her.  

When she landed on the roof, barely harmed and with only the excess of webs that Peter had managed to throw at her. Peter ran after her, quickly webbing her feet as he jumped towards her and pushed her to the floor, but she was so swift and suave that she simply landed on her hands and managed to do several round-off back handspring escaping from Peter and then effectively managed to break her hold on her legs. 

“Are you serious?”, Peter cursed to himself and she gave him a light wink. 

She then turned around with a smile on her face only to crash against your suit, she gasped heavily as she watched you in front of her, giving a quick step back. You smiled and before Black Cat even knew it, you pointed at her with one of your repulsors. 

“Sorry Kitty”, you muttered before you shot her with your repulsor, sending her back into the floor and where Peter was standing. 

Although you had diminished the capacity of your suit by a lot for that shot, you still felt a small sense of fear when you saw that she was not moving, Peter was already on his knees watching her intently and checking her vitals. 

“Is she okay?”, you asked Peter as you arrived, but before he could even answer you ordered H.A.P.P.Y. to check her vitals. 

Peter rolled his eyes, “She’s fine”, he answered but your mask disappeared quickly as you glared at her. “She’s just unconscious” 

“Miss Stark, she’s okay. She seems to have a slight concussion but she’s aw-”

Before H.A.P.P.Y. could finish talking you felt your legs being wrapped in something, you lowered your eyes to your legs and they seemed to be bounded by a white threat, you raised your head once more to see that Black Cat had disappeared from between you and Peter and that Peter was in the same position as you, he gazed at you with a haunted expression. 

You quickly felt a hand on the back of your neck, it swiftly droved your head against Peter’s and everything went black, the last thing you remember was Peter’s honey and cinnamon scent and Black Cat’s voice:

“Can’t wait to see you again, Stark”

****

taglist: @spideylovin​ @fandomtrash100​ @soullessbabee​

***

author’s note: So, I think it’s like one of my first chapters that i’ve revised as well as i did just because i wanted the introduction to Felicia to be perfect and to see how interested she actually is on y/n. anyway, it can still have some mistakes and i’m so osrry for that but i hope you like it?? i’m more than excited for the next few chapters.

next few chapters we are going to have more action and begin with the fun partss! I’ll leave a sneak peak of the next chapter in the masterlist like i did for this one and yes. also, next few chapters are going to be so long and that might take me more time, i have the skeleton ready for chapter 2, i just need to fill it with details but HOPEFULLY i have it uploaded by sunday but i’m also full of finals?? i’ll try for sunday but maybe it will be ready for next week FOR SURE. 

please please please let me know what did you think!! a little like or reblog would literally make my day and i’m already SO happy with everything you commented on my last post. literal tears. thank you so so so much for taking the time to read my work, thank you!! any feedback is very well received!!

[gurenscumrag]

Summary: Xiao see’s that you’re hurt and takes the time to reassure you and tease you.

Word count: 1,285

Xiao Lemon

You breathed in, a large smile gracing your lips, fingers gripping the ceramic plate that held almond tofu. You were just outside the entrance to the top level of the Wangshuu Inn, excited to see the adepti that guarded the premises. The two of you had grown very close in a short amount of time, you would come bearing food and would sit down together, Xiao would happily eat, listening to you ramble on about your adventures and the things you had done while in Liyue. Although he would never say it outloud, your visits to him was one of the many happiness he indulged in the mortal world, but you’d never know this. Instead, he would listen quietly, making comments here and there, watching the sun set in and the stars start to make their appearance. It was utter bliss between you two.

“Xiaoooo,” you sang out, walking towards the slender man who turned to face you at the sound of your voice. You offered him the simple dish, taking your usual spot beside him, your legs swinging off the ledge, “Goddness, the hilichurls were awful today. They kept kicking my ass…”

Xiao hummed, the sound coming out soft and apologetic. Chopsticks bringing the firm tofu to his mouth, greedily gulping it down. You laid back, eyes focused on the dimming sky above you both, “It’s kinda been a good day, I haven’t done much, just a lot of running around and gathering materials for my sword. Damn thing needs so many lustrous stone.”

“You have the Serpent Spine, don’t you?” 

You nodded at the comment, “Mmm, yeah, but I was able to ascend it to tier three.”

“That’s becoming a good weapon, treat it kindly.”

You smiled, Xiao had a sweet habit of personifying objects, “Of course, I’m giving her a break for the day. She needs a good cleaning too, I’ll do that before I sleep.”

Xiao, who had just finished his food set his plate aside, leaning back on his hands and studying your face. 

Your eyes met and you gave the mermaid-ish man a bright smile, “Hey you.”

“Hello.”

“Anyone come to visit you?”

He let out a puff go air through his nostrils, “You know nobody does. Only a few even know I exist.”

“It never hurts to ask, ya know? Maybe someone will, I don’t wanna miss out on hearing about that” You countered, reaching a hand out to lightly trace your fingers over the green iridescent tattoos that decorated the beautiful man. He shivered slightly under your feathery touch, but didn’t move further from you. He trusted you, something that hadn’t come easy and had taken you both months to come to an understanding, but he was grateful for the trust and patience you had given him.

“I know,” Xiao almost whispered, “I wouldn’t keep it from you. I can assure you.”

You hummed in delight, turning your head a little to the side, the last of evening sun slowly disappearing. You were content, these were your moments of happiness. You honestly couldn’t remember what you use to do before Xiao appeared in your life, perhaps you just would trudge into some inn or tent and pass out from pure exhaustion. Sometimes you would walk all night, your legs burning and your lungs gasping for air after scaling mountains and almost dyi-

“What’s that?”

Xiao’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, you turned to gaze at him, expecting to meet a soft expression, but what you got was a cold stare. Xiao was starring at you as if you were a stranger to him and it sent a chill down your spine.

“W-What? What’s what?”

His eyes narrowed, reaching out with a hand and cupping your cheek. It kept you still despite how nervous you felt. This went way beyond the bounds Xiao was comfortable with, and you didn’t understand what was going on with him. His gaze was cold, his thumb stroking a small patch of your skin before he carefully pressed down, causing you to hiss out in pain.

“You’re hurt. What happened?” His voice was growing colder and more demanding.

“It’s nothing, Xiao.”

He clicked his tongue, scolding you firmly with the simple sound, “If it was nothing, then why does it go further down?” To prove his point Xiao trailed two fingers along the bruise, tracing the pulse point on your throat down to your visible collarbone. You thought he’d stop, spare you some dignity, but he didn’t. He pulled the top of your shirt downwards, almost exposing your nipples to him, nevertheless he exposed the large and dark bruise. 

“Xiao,” you breathed softly, unsure what to say or even do, you’d be lying if you didn’t have countless nights dreaming about Xiao caressing and fucking you. He was attractive and a refreshing pleasure in your exhausting life, it manifested into feelings of admiration and almost love. To have his hands on you now, so close to your nipples that ached for his touch was overwhelming to say the least, “There’s this one hilichurl… Kinda looks like a giant rock creature… Someone needed help, they kept asking for me to save them, but I couldn’t beat him… I couldn’t save someone, they were stuck and I couldn’t kill the hilichurl. He got me too many times so I had to retreat.”

Xiao let go of your shirt, letting it fall haphazardly back on your skin. One of his hands coming to rest just above your head, he rested his weight on that hand and leaned forward. Your noses almost touching, his cold amber eyes bore into yours, “I told you to call me if you needed help.”

“I… I thought you were just saying that.”

“I meant it. I’m here to protect you. All of you.”

“But how can I call for you?”

“Say my name.”

Eyes widening, your cheeks flushing a bright red, “W-What?”

“Say my name, (y/n).”

“Xiao…” your voice came out breathy, shaky, and in a desperate whimper.

His golden eyes flickered down to watch your lips momentarily, a teasing smirk gracing his own brims at the sheer neediness in your voice, “I meant just generally. Say my name and I’ll hear it. I always do. Always.”

You stared flabbergasted and embarrassed. You wanted to run, to scream, to hide, but you were still trapped beneath Xiao, and then it dawned on you… He can hear his name anywhere?

“Oh…”

He hummed, smiling widely, showing off the sharp fangs in his mouth, “Yeah… Oh.”

“Why didn’t you tell me beforehand that you can hear that?!”

“I didn’t expect you to need my help, let alone moan it.”

“Xiao!?” You screeched, your cheeks an unearthly shade of red, bringing your hands to your face to hide your blush but you were stopped when Xiao grasped your wrists in his free hand

“I’m always here to help, (y/n).”

“…okay…”

“Now, about that hilichurl, don’t worry. If you remember where you left him, I’ll handle it.” You nodded quietly, still stuck under Xiao’s gaze and grip, so he continued, “Let’s get you to QiQi, okay? I’m sure the zombie can heal you up.”

Xiao pulled back, dropping your wrist from his grip. He stood easily and offered a hand to you which you graciously took. As you helped yourself up, mumbling, “I’m sorry, Xiao.”

“Whatever for?”

“Doing... that....”

He hummed, tapped a finger to his chin in an fake thought, “I’m not sorry for listening and watching you. Let’s go now.”

“What?! What do you mean watching me?! XIAO?!”

But Xiao had already sprinted inside, heading down the stairs and motioning you to follow him, all while you stared, mortified.

[secretlynestaarcheron]

Nesta Ballerina AU ~ should I write a one shot??

One shot:

Nesta stretched her arms above her head, before plopping them back on the comforter, yawning as she opened her eyes squinting at the beam of light peeking through her tiny window. She rips of the comforter, throwing her legs at the side, a new wave of excitement rushing through her.

She throws on a sweater and slips on her slippers as she pushes open the door of her room and enters the kitchen, living room, office, dance studio combo. Mor was already up, moving around the kitchen, bopping her head to the music that was playing from her phone.

“It’s show day!” Nesta yells.

Mor jumps turning to see Nesta. “It’s show day!” Mor screams back, jumping up and down. They had moved to New York together four years ago, going to school to be professional ballerinas, and then auditioning for company after company until they finally got in. “Celebratory pancakes?”

Nesta smiles as she slides onto one of the bar stools as Mor slides a plate in front of her. “Any news about the boyfriend?” Mor asks, stuffing a fork full of pancake into her mouth.

Nesta frowns, reaching forward to grab the jar of syrup, squeezing a little bit on top. She shrugs, “It’s not a big deal, he called me last night,” Nesta says, pushing her food around, “He couldn’t get off work, some important meeting tonight. He’s going to try and come next week.”

Mor bites her lip, reaching over to squeeze her hand, before pulling back and going back to her pancakes. “Issa okay, it’ll be so busy today, you won’t even miss him,” she replies. “I think almond milk lattes from Beans and then we head to the theater early and check everything out.”

Nesta nods, she was going to need all the coffee she can get, their director Amara wanted to do a few more run throughs of the show to touch up any mistakes before the first showing. Nesta’s ankles already ached from yesterday's rehearsal.

“So Rhysand and Azriel are both coming,” Mor responds, looking down at her phone. “Feyre is coming straight after work. I think she’s bringing her loser boyfriend, Tamlin or whatever. Elain and Lucien found a babysitter so they are coming. I haven’t heard from Amren.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “I called her yesterday, she's coming. She just wanted to pull on your strings.”

There’s a knock on the door and Mor twirls as she moves towards it, Nesta pulling her phone out from her pocket to see a text from Cassian. Good luck tonight, beat all those other bunheads. She smiles, he meant well but as a professional hockey player he didn’t really get the whole non-competing thing.

“I think these are for you,” Mor sing-songs. Nesta quickly hits send on her message back and looks up at Mor who was holding a boutique of flowers. Nesta jumps out of her seat and grabs the flowers, looking for the card. Cassian.

She smiles, “Take a pic of me? I’ll send it to him,” she responds.

Mor grabs Nesta’s phone and snaps a picture. “Okay, now hurry up,” Mor replies, “I don’t want to be late.”

Nesta rolls her eyes as her friend pushes her into her room. “You don’t want to be late to get to the theater early?” she deadpans. Mor gives her a look before slamming the door. Nesta chuckles, sending the picture to Cassian. I’d rather have you but the flowers were a nice touch.

She hits send before putting on her leotard, slipping on a skirt and sweater, she slides on some boots before heading back out into the living room. “Look at this sweet video Elain sent me on snapchat,” Mor says, handing me the phone, it was Nesta niece in a tutu dancing around the living room. “I can’t believe it’s real, I feel like someone needs to pitch me and I’ll wake back up in small town Prythian, Rhode Island in Night Court Dance Studio.”

“Stars, remember how many times Feyre would get yelled at by Morta Queen?” Nesta asks as she grabs her dance bag and wallet and they make their way out of their crabby little apartment and down the narrow hall towards the exit. “She was so uncoordinated.”

Mor laughs as they move down the stairs and onto the busy street, squeezing through the people towards the coffee shop between their apartment and the theater. “And how Morta Queen used to bring her cat to rehearsals, she always wondered why our tights would always be ripped up,” Mor laughs as they clumsily fall into the door of the shop.

“Nesta! Mor! How nervous are you?” the barista behind the counter asks. “I can’t wait to see you guys perform, got my tickets for two weekends from now.”

Mor smiles and goes on a rant about how excited and nervous she is while Nesta can’t help but feel incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many people that loved and supported her. She looks down at her phone, Cassian hadn’t responded to her last message but he was probably in his meeting.

She was hoping to call him before the show but as Mor thrusts a coffee in her hand and pulls the other out the door she knows that's a long shot. The halls are already bustling with chatter as they move towards their dressing room. Tutus and leotards littering the hall, the halls foggy from hairspray.

“I told you we would be late to be early,” Mor says, giving Nesta a pointed look as they move into the dressing room. Two girls are already inside breaking in their pointe shoes. One of them looks up and smiles, “Amara is already on a rampage, I’d get into practice gear quick,” she warns.

Nesta downs her coffee before grabbing her pointe shoes from her bag and following Mor out onto the stage.

A long draining couple of hours later, Mor and Nesta make their way back into the dressing room falling onto the couch. “No....energy,” Mor groans, her face pushed against a pillow. “My blisters have blisters.”

“Tell me about it,” Nesta says, falling into one of the makeup chairs and rubbing her feet. “Amara said we have ten minutes to get dressed and then be in hair and makeup so I am-,”

“Going to go call the boyfriend?” Mor ques, pushing herself into a sitting position, giving Nesta a taunting smile. “I’ll grab you a snack and bring it to you when we meet up for hair and makeup.”

Nesta grabs her phone and touches her chest. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?” Nesta exclaims as she leaves the dressing room, shoving through the line of girls in puffy tutus until she's in the back alley. She hits his contact and then puts the phone to her ear.

She bites her nail as she listens to it ring. His voice booming through the speakers seconds later: You’ve reached Cassian Monte, you know what to do.

She pauses, wanting to hang up and pretend she never called. It was a pretty new relationship, they went to high school together but never spoke until two years ago when they met at some fancy dinner her school threw. She had absolutely hated him at first as he kept popping into her life.

She finally let him take her out on a date the last time he was in town five months ago. “Hey Cas, um, I am about to go on soon so I thought I’d give you a call-,” she pauses biting her lip. “I hope your meeting went well today.”

There's a pause and she feels like she should say no but she just hangs up. Blowing at a strain of hair that slipped out from her pony-tail. She still had a whole army of people coming to support her. Besides he had sent her flowers this morning, it’s not his fault that he had meetings.

She looks down at her phone as if he was about to call her but when she’s only met with a black screen she swallows and pushes her way back into the building, walking down the crowded halls and into her dressing room where she changed into her costume before finding Mor at a vanity.

“Hey lovebird,” Mor says, as she leaned forward in the mirror to apply mascara. “You didn’t talk long.”

Nesta gave her a tight smile, as she took the seat next to her, two crew members immediately moving to begin working on her hair. “Yeah, well, I have an opening night to get ready for!” she exclaims.

Mor smiles, handing Nesta a stack of cards, “Well wishes from the friends and family,” Mor says, turning away from her to begin speaking to the hairdresser as Nesta fingered through different cards from her friends and family.

I am super excited for you both but did you really have to seat me right next to the love of my life and her douche boyfriend Tamlin? Stars, someone needs to punch him. -Rhys

You both have been working so hard for this, I am so excited for both of you Nesta eyes squint as the handwriting becomes more scribbled and tinier. Sorry. Elain started crying. It’s Lucien. She wants me to write that she is proud of both of you and that you are both role models for Lucy. -Elain and Lucien

“Curtain is up in ten minutes, everyone!” a producer yells, clapping her hands, Mor turns to smile at Nesta.

“This is it,” Mor comments.

The show is a blur of motion and music, Nesta can’t express what she’s feeling when she steps forward to take her final bow. She is speechless when she exits the theater and her friends and family surround her, Elain pulling her into a tearful hug while Feyre gives her a boutique of flowers.

She turns to see a tall man that she had never seen before that Rhysand was causally glaring at. “You must be the boyfriend, Tamlin, we are grabbing drinks after-,” Nesta says. Feyre who stood next to him shakes her head, her eyes wide as if trying to give Nesta a message.

“Drinks?” Tamlin asks, turning to Feyre who immediately stops shaking her head and laughs. “No, uh remember I mentioned having a thing in the morning, so I can’t stay out late.”

Tamlin nods, “I’ll grab us a taxi,” he muses as he moves towards the street.

“You were beautiful, Nes. Mom would have been proud,” Feyre says, pulling Nesta into a hug. “If I ever say I am going on a date with him ever again please knock some sense into me.”

“Feyre, ready?” Tamlin calls.

She rolls her eyes as she moved towards the taxi. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Feyre yells at them before Tamlin shuts the door and sits in the passenger seat.

“Ick, who sits in the front of a taxi?” Rhysand complains.

Mor bumps his shoulder. “She wouldn’t go on all these terrible dates if you just admitted how you felt already,” she exclaims.

“I have, it’s her turn,” Rhysand retorts.

Nesta rolls her eyes at their stubborness before turning to Elain and Lucien. “One drink? The bar I am thinking is just around the corner,” Nesta says, pulling at her sisters hands as if to guide her.

Elain chuckles turning to look at Lucien who shrugs. “We did tell the babysitter we would be out late,” she says and Nesta let’s out a cheer as she wraps an arm around her sisters shoulder and guides them down the street.

A few of there cast mates were already there celebrating. Elain and Lucien only staying for one drink, while the rest kept going strong.

Nesta catches Mor staring down at her phone before smiling. “Wanna head back soon?” Mor calls over the music.

Nesta nods feeling the exhaustion set in. They didn’t have a show tomorrow but they did have rehearsals and then a show Sunday. She probably should stay out too late.

Mor disappears before coming back minutes later a mischievous smile on her face. “I actually got asked to go home with that pretty blue eyed brunette over there, do you mind?” Mor asks.

Nesta follows Mor finger, it was one of girls on the makeup crew. She wasn’t Mors usual type. “You deserve your happy ending, go for it,” Nesta says. “Text me or call me anytime, okay?”

Mor nods pulling her into a hug. “Text me when you make it home, I might have a package waiting on the doorstep mind bringing it in for me?”

Nesta rolls her eyes but nods, mor was always treating herself to an online shopping spree. She moves through the crowd of sweaty people rubbing arms and onto the almost empty street.

They lived three doors down so it was a quick walk to their apartment. Nesta looks on the doorstep for a package but doesn’t see anything as she slides in the key and twists the knob.

She pauses in the doorway when she flicks on the light and there was a stack of her favorite snacks and a new romcom dvd sitting on the counter, as well as the blankets from both their rooms spread out on the furniture to create a fort.

She raises an eyebrow as she shuts the door, moving deeper into the apartment. Someone in the fort mutters a curse before popping out and giving her a sheepish smile. “You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” Cassian says as he awkwardly gets out of the fort and stands up.

He scratches the back of his neck nervously as he looks at her and she realizes she hasn’t said anything. “I am sorry, is this overstepping? I guess I wouldn’t be too thrilled to have a guy-,”

“No, it’s-,” she pauses as she looks at the fort and she’s the laptop screen beaming through the opening. She drops her bag in the ground and moves quickly to him. She throws her arms around his neck and he tightens his around her waist, picking her up in one smooth motion. “I am just shocked that you're here. No one has done something like this before.”

He smiles as they pull away, she slides down so her feet touch the ground but he’s still holding tightly to her waist. “If you’re tired I get it, you did so well tonight. God, Nes, you looked stunning up there,” he whispers against her temple.

She looks up at him. “You were there? You saw my performance?” She asks with excitement dripping from her voice. She hated being out of the know but Cassian was glad he was able to surprise her.

“My flight was delayed, I almost didn’t make it. That’s why I didn’t answer when you called. I was still up in the air,” Cassian says. “I had to rush to the theater. I was standing all the way in the back, but I could still see you crush it.”

She laughs, pulling away from him and looking up at him seriously. “I missed you, a lot,” she says honestly.

“I missed you too,” he replies, pulling her back into his chest and stroking her hair. When she finally pulls away to shower and change she half expects him not to be there. That her dehydrated exhausted mind created a false reality but she opens her door he’s curled up in the fort waiting for her with a big bowl of popcorn.

Before she crawls in to join him, she looks over as her phone lights up with a new message from Mor. Did you like my package? Nesta smiles sending back a quick response and then crawling in the fort and curling up beside Cassian.

[andromedia5]

What’s in a Dance

They’re speaking.

The ballerinas are speaking with their bodies, so over exaggerated that she understands everything and it takes nothing. None of the words that have to fight through her mind to get to her mouth. Just pretty dresses and quick feet and music without words and it’s . . . beautiful.

She reaches for Bruce’s hand and squeezes, letting him anchor her to the world as the colors and the light and the life wash over her. He’s smiling at her; happy, calm, nervous.

Always nervous around her, but different nervous, hopeful nervous.

Hopeful nervous again, when she opens the ballet studio door to see him, sitting there waiting for her. He gets up, folding his newspaper under his arm.

“How’d it go, Cassie?”

She’s flung her arms around his neck before he can get another word out.

Bruce knocks at her door a few weeks after she starts ballet lessons with Madame Naomi while she’s lying on her bed listening to Tom Petty. Not just listening, listening with both headphones in and the volume up and her eyes closed letting Wildflowers wash over her and block out the rest of the world because she’s safe. He sits at the foot of her bed when she motions for him to come in and tugs at her feet teasingly, so her knees drop back down onto the bedspread. Cassandra pauses her music and takes her earbuds out, pushing back the hair that had gotten tangled in the wire.

“Good morning,”

“It’s not morning,” he points out, tilting his head towards the clock on her bedside table proudly displaying that it is in fact 2:25 and therefore; not morning.

“Happy see today,” That isn’t right, she knows it isn’t, it’s not complete and her mind starts to chase after the right words. Bruce runs a thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

“Take your time, sweetheart,”

Cass tries to slow down the words running through her mind so she can see them clearly. “Happy first time seeing me today,”

His eyes crinkle at the sides and he kisses her forehead “That, I am. Can you come down to the library with me for a second?”

She nods and swung her legs off the bed, following him out the door. Last time they had gone down to the library for a second it had been when he had given her that pair of his mother’s earrings. They had belonged to her grandmother before her and he had thought she would have wanted her granddaughter to have them but if she didn’t want them it was completely fine and they were old anyways and she didn’t even have her ears pierced so- at which point she had stopped listening to his rambling in favor of staring at the delicate gold flowers with the sapphires in the centers. Dick pierced her ears in his apartment a week later with a sewing needle and an ice cube and while he argued with a livid Alfred over the phone about how “It’s completely safe” and “That’s how I got my ears pierced at the circus,” Kory helped her put in the earrings and that glorious sense of belonging had washed over her, again.

The library smells of almond and old paper, sunlight drenching the leather armchairs and bouncing off the old grandfather clock. Cassandra lingers at the doorway watching as Bruce strides over to the old record player, carefully lowering a record onto it and turning to her. “You said you wanted to come to the gala this Saturday?” Something in her brain clicks as she realizes why they’re here and rushes over to him eagerly. “You don’t have to go if you changed your mind” he continues, “But I thought you might want to learn,”

“Different dancing,”

“Alfred made me go to lessons when I was your age but the last teacher filed a restraining order after I tried to send Jason when he was fourteen and he . . . well, you know your brother, you can imagine,” he turns and sets the needle on the record. Piano notes begin to play, simple and elegant like the way Tim’s fingers move across the shiny white and black keys.

“Clair de Lune, it’s a waltz but a very slow one, it’s easier to learn.” Bruce extends one of his hands and she holds it. Their hands look funny together, one tan and small, with uniform circular calluses and the other large and scarred with a thin dusting of hair up the back of his palm. “Now you put your hand on my shoulder,” he instructs as he rests his other hand on her waist and lower back, a bit like a hug.

She does so, albeit a bit impatiently “This isn’t dancing,”.

Bruce laughs and she pokes his shin with her toe as if it would wake his feet up and make them move. “We’re getting there. Now a waltz is mostly just a box step. There can be other elements but at its core it's just a box step. So we move back,” he gestured for her to take a step backward and then followed her with a step forward. “To the side,” they both side stepped in unison, “Foreword for you, back for me. And then to the side again and we’re back where we started.”

Cassandra looks up from where she had been tracking the movement of their feet in an attempt to memorize. It was surprisingly like a kata, or the five positions in ballet, simple. Maybe it was just that what she had seen had looked more like dancing than it actually was.

“That’s it?” she asks, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. He rolls his eyes and begins the box step again but faster this time, and this feels like what she’s seen other people do, the almost rise and fall of it, like a carousel. She trips over her feet a little but he holds her, not letting her fall until she’s memorized the rhythm of the steps. The same rush of euphoria she always gets from dancing comes swooping in as her father spins her into the light shining through the curtains.

They’re whispering, always whispering.

Cass has learnt a lot since leaving Cain. She’s learnt to speak English, she’s learnt to speak. She’s learnt that people don’t like her. Not for the bad things she’s done, not for Cain. Just don’t like her.

Jealousy.

That’s what she’s told causes it, first by Alfred, who merely pats her cheek and makes a passing remark about the green eyed monster coming after kind, pretty girls.

She can tell he’s lying.

Then again by Steph, “Bruce is rich, Cass. All rich people want to be richer. Well, except your dad, but maybe he’s so rich it skips him. That’s why those harpy faced bitches with earrings that could pay my tuition don’t like you. Ignore it,”.

She isn’t lying. But Steph hasn’t seen.

Jason doesn’t say it’s jealousy. Jason doesn’t really answer, just laughs that laugh where he doesn’t really think it’s funny and mutters something in Spanish.

“Gringo cabrones. They never fucking change, do they, Cassie?”

She learns the way she learns a lot of things that no one could even begin to explain to her; a combination of TV and Tim. An episode of Boy Meets World and now she at least knows what questions to ask, which he answers. Cold anger and no small amount of what’s either sadness or guilt (it might be both) in his pretty eyes as he does his best to explain. He has the same look now, knuckles white as the old women sitting at the table near them get drunker and louder. Like birds on a tree branch, but the birds that like to sit outside her bedroom window don’t say her name quite so often or so mockingly. Tim stomps away while one of the board members she and Steph have christened “Mr. Suckup With The Sex Offender Mustache”  is in the middle of saying something and walks straight to her.

“Dance with me?” he asks, much louder than he needs to. Tim’s hand is cold in hers but it’s there and he follows her into a waltz, the four corners of the invisible handkerchief marking out the box step. “Can you let me lead?” he whines and this is that thing Barbara says about the elephant. When people don’t talk about something they both see. But it doesn’t feel like lies and it doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore. It feels like that pushing at her chest; the growing pains because she’s still adjusting to loving someone this much.

“Little brother,” she reminds him just in case he wasn’t getting ‘not a chance’ from her face, and Tim grins and squeezes her hand. Cass isn’t sure if the whispering stops or if she just can’t hear them anymore.

[btsqualityy]

Scripted: Part 7

Namjoon x Reader; Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, President!Namjoon, Head of Security!Jimin

Warnings: (Reluctant) open relationship, cheating

A few weeks later, Namjoon’s comment was still ringing just as fresh in your mind as it was when he’d said it to you before storming out of your bedroom. “I’ll always care about you Y/N-ah. But respect is a two-way street, and you stopped respecting me a long time ago”. 

It was obvious that whatever had spurred him to say that was eating at him, because he hadn’t so much as spared you a single glance ever since that day. As much as you wanted to talk to him and try to get down to the bottom of it though, you never seemed to be able to catch him alone long enough to really grill him about it. One of the things about being married to the President of a country is that he’d be able to avoid you for days without suspicion from others, which is exactly what he’d been doing.

You just didn’t get it though. All of this seemingly stemmed from the conversation about you not wanting to have a baby with him but you knew your husband, and you knew that there had to be more to the story than what he was really telling you. You loved Namjoon but there was one thing about him that had always annoyed you, and that was his ability to act aloof whenever he wanted to avoid talking about his true feelings. You thought that the two of you had worked through that in the early days of your relationship, but the same could be said for a lot of the other aspects in your relationship as well.

“Y/N?” Jimin called your name and you seemingly snapped back to reality, looking over at him with your eyes blown wide in surprise. “Did you hear me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry Jimin,” you sighed, shaking your head lightly. “Can you say it again?”

“I said, do you think these place settings scream ‘please give us your money’?” He repeated, holding up the book of place settings that the two of you had been looking through. The two of you were doing more planning for the children’s benefit, and you and Jimin were on your own today as Momo had other commitments.

“Yeah, they do,” you laughed and Jimin nodded as he set the book back down on the table in front of you. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin wondered. “You’ve been really quiet all day.”

“I’m fine, I just...have a lot on my mind I guess,” you shrugged.

“You could always talk to me if you wanted,” Jimin offered. “I may not be able to give you any great advice or anything, but it might help to verbalize your thoughts.”

“I wouldn’t want to seem like I’m complaining though.”

“Y/N, you’re human. All humans do is complain, it’s in our nature,” Jimin joked, making you laugh.

“Alright, alright,” you relented. “Namjoon and I got into a....well it really wasn’t an argument or anything like that but he said something that I haven’t been able to get off of my mind.”

“Do you feel comfortable telling me what it was that he said?” Jimin asked. 

“I don’t think it’d really help if you knew, because I don’t even know what he meant by it,” you admitted. “Whatever it was though, I know he’s really upset.”

“Ah ok. Well, maybe you should just give him time,” Jimin shrugged. “Maybe he just needs time to think through things.”

“Maybe but I’m not sure,” you groaned. “I’m so sick of not knowing what’s going on in my own marriage.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it then? He won’t know how you feel if you don’t talk to him.”

“Namjoon and I haven’t spoken to each other honestly, at the same time, in a year,” you disclosed. “And plus, he’s so angry right now that I doubt he’d even hear me out.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t really give you any advice,” Jimin apologized. “I’ve never been married and the one long-term relationship I’ve had fell apart.”

“No, that’s ok,” you smiled lightly. “It’s kind of nice to have someone just listen, because when I talk to Momo about these things, she always gives her two cents.”

“Very on brand for her,” Jimin laughed. 

“I hope I didn’t make things weird for you,” you added. “I know you’re Head of Security for the both of us and it might be odd to have me complaining about our relationship to you.”

“Ok first off, you’re not complaining if I volunteered to listen,” Jimin pointed out. “And second, I can separate the job from my friendships.”

“Oh, so we’re friends now?” You teased him and Jimin became visibly flustered.

“I-I mean,...I was j-just,-”

“Jimin, I’m kidding,” you giggled, and he visibly relaxed again. “I do consider you to be my friend.”

“I consider you to be my friend too,” he nodded with a smile.

“I mean, I’ve vented to you about my emotional baggage so you really have no choice anyways,” you pointed out, making Jimin laugh loudly. 

“Hey, do you have anything else to do today?” Jimin asked suddenly and you shook your head.

“No, this was all I had planned today,” you said as you pointed at the books of place settings and silverware options that sat in front of you. 

“Since I couldn’t give you any real advice, why don’t you let me take you somewhere to get your mind off things?”

“Take me somewhere?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Just trust me,” Jimin told you. “By the way, how do you feel about homemade skin care products?”

..........................

“Ok, I had no idea that Hope Market was this popular,” you giggled as Jimin led you through the overcrowded farmer’s market. You made sure to keep your head down in order to make sure that you weren’t seen, even though you had traded your usual dresses and heels for a t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, and a bucket hat. 

“It’s usually not like this when I come, but that’s also usually during the week,” Jimin replied. The two of you continued to walk until Jimin stopped in front of a booth, and you couldn’t help but to notice how the old woman who was standing behind the stall lit up at the sight of Jimin.

“Jiminie!” She exclaimed, quickly hobbling from behind the booth and throwing her arms around him in a hug.

“Hi Jung-hee-ssi,” Jimin responded, taking a step back from her once she had released him from the hug in order to properly bow to her. “I brought a friend to sample your skin care items.”

“Hello,” you smiled, bowing to her and she nodded towards you. 

“Hi, I’m Kim Jung-hee,” she told you.

“I’m Kim Y/N,” you said and she nodded once again before moving to step back around her stall. You looked over at Jimin in confusion since Jung-hee hadn’t made any mention of your name, and Jimin chuckled at your expression. 

“She’s 67 and she doesn’t own a television,” he revealed and you nodded in understanding. 

“Yah, you two get over here!” Jung-hee called out as she bent over to dig into one of the many crates that she had and Jimin set his hand on the small of your back to push you forward a little. “You’re just in time Jiminie, you and your little friend!”

“What did you make this week?” Jimin wondered as he moved to stand next to you.

“Lip scrubs! And with a new recipe too!” She announced as she stood up straight again and walked over to the two of you, multiple bottles of lip scrubs in her hands. “You’re not allergic to honey or almonds, are you sweetie?”

“No, I’m not,” you told her and she smiled before handing you a small bottle. 

“That one is my homemade sugar lip scrub,” she said and she motioned for you to open the bottle, which you did. “It has sugar which helps exfoliate, almond oil to help moisturize, and honey for smell. Try it.”

“It smells amazing,” you complimented as you dipped your finger into the scrub before proceeding to rub it onto your lips. 

“And I see that you haven’t been following the routine that I gave you!” Jung-hee scolded Jimin as she reached up and grabbed ahold of his chin, looking over his face. 

“I’ve been working!” He shot back, reaching up and pulling her hand away from his face. “I work 12 hour days, I don’t have time for a 12-step skincare routine.”

“You’re gonna end up wishing you had made time when you’re my age with bags so big, you can store kimchi in them,” she muttered, making you snort as you tried not to laugh out loud. Jung-hee then reached around and grabbed a small big that was full of wet wipes, and she pulled one out before holding it out to you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled, using the wipe to get the residue from the sugar scrub off your lips.

“How does it feel?” Jung-hee wondered and you paused for a second to run the tip of your finger over your lips, a soft gasp escaping you.

“They’re so soft,” you marveled and Jung-hee smiled proudly. 

“That almond oil will work wonders,” she stated. She then turned around again, taking a few seconds to rummage around in another crate before she stood up straight again. “Here, you can try this hand lotion I’ve made while I pack up a few lip scrubs for you to take home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you tried to say but Jung-hee just waved her hand at you.

“It’s not a problem. Jiminie, here,” she said, setting a small tube into Jimin’s open hand. “You rub that onto her skin the same way I do for you while I pack this up.”

“Yes Jung-hee-ssi,” Jimin nodded obediently and Jung-hee took the bottle of lip scrub out of your hands before walking off to the other side of her stall.

“She’s a firecracker,” you whispered quietly to Jimin and he snorted a laugh as he took the top off of the tube in his hands and poured some into his palm.

“Tell me about it,” he chuckled. “I’ve known her since I was little. Her and my grandmother used to be best friends before my grandmother passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you apologized and Jimin just smiled at you as he rubbed his hands together.

“Thanks,” he said as he grabbed your hand and began to apply the lotion to your skin. “I still come and check on her every week to make sure that she’s doing ok.”

“And to get skincare tips,” you added and Jimin laughed before nodding. 

“And to get skincare tips,” he agreed. He continued to rub your hand and you realized that the lotion had long since been rubbed into your skin and that he was now giving you a....massage, almost.

“It’s nice of you to come and check on her though,” you mumbled quietly, not able to tear your gaze away from where Jimin was touching you. 

“Well she doesn’t have any children of her own and her husband’s sick, so I feel like it’s the least I could do,” he smiled, working his way down from your fingers to your wrist, rubbing softly at your pulse point. Your breathing hitched audibly and Jimin looked up at you with a small smirk.

“Feels good, huh? Jung-hee always does this to my hands too when I come, and it’s the most relaxing thing ever,” he told you and you nodded numbly, because relaxing you wasn’t the only thing that it was doing it to you. 

“Alright you two, here you are!” Jung-hee exclaimed as she walked back over to the two of you, two paper bags in her hands. “I put some lip scrubs, the hand cream, some general exfoliates, and some face masks in each one.”

“Thank you so much,” you said as you bowed to her before taking the bag out of her hand while Jimin did the same. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, free of charge sweetie,” she said dismissively. 

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” she stated firmly. “Any friend of Jiminie’s is a friend of mines.”

“Well, thank you,” you smiled. 

“I’ll be back to check on you next week, alright?” Jimin said as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Jung-hee’s cheek. 

“Alright, and follow your skincare routine!” She shouted at him, making him nod immediately. 

“It was nice meeting you!” You said as you waved.

“Likewise sweetie,” Jung-hee replied with a grin and you let Jimin lead you away from her booth and back into the busyness of Hope Market. 

“What now?” You wondered as you looked over at Jimin. 

“I know a small ice cream shop not too far from here,” Jimin replied. “Wanna go get a cone?”

“God, yes.”

..........................

“You’re disgusting.”

“Respect my choices!”

“I can respect a choice, but this is just ridiculous,” Jimin muttered in disgust as he looked over at you as you licked your ice cream cone. “I mean, mint chocolate Y/N? Really?”

“It’s good,” you shrugged. 

“It’s toothpaste in ice cream,” Jimin deadpanned.

“You just have no taste.”

“That makes two of us,” he whispered and you reached over to smack his arm, making him wince dramatically. “You almost made me drop mines!”

“Good, it’ll be your karma for judging me!” You shot back. Jimin just chuckled at you, sitting back against the bench as the two of you continued to eat your individual cones in a comfortable silence.

“Thanks Jimin,” you spoke up suddenly, and Jimin looked over at you with a raised brow. 

“For what?”

“For helping me get my mind off of everything,” you told him. “It’s nice to just hang out as me, and not as ‘First Lady Kim’, you know?”

“I can imagine,” he nodded. “And no need to thank me. It looked like everything was really weighing on you.”

“It was,” you confirmed as you took another lick of your ice cream. A few seconds of silence passed before you felt a hand on your knee, and you looked over to see Jimin staring intently at you.

“I wish I could help you more,” he murmured.

“Y-you do,” you assured him softly as he moved closer to you so that your thigh was touching his. “A lot, actually.”

“You deserve better,” he stated firmly and you nodded.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Before you could even realize what was happening, Jimin was pressing his lips to yours and you found yourself not even hesitating to kiss him back. The kiss was soft and gentle, yet firm at the same time. Jimin didn’t try to pull you closer or push you further, he just....kissed you. As if he knew that it was what you needed. 

Once Jimin pulled his lips away from yours, you slowly opened your eyes and found him smiling softly at you.

“Ok?” He asked and you nodded slowly.

“Ok,” you agreed before sitting back against the bench. Jimin did the same and the two of you continued to eat your ice cream, now trying to hide the blushes that were rising to both your and his cheeks. 

..........................

It wasn’t until you and Jimin had gotten back into his car to head back to the Blue House that you started to overthink and panic. Yes, you were in an open marriage and could technically kiss Jimin without any guilt but he was the Head of your fucking Security detail, for God’s sake. Of all the men in the world, why’d it have to be him?

On the other hand though, you were happy that it was Jimin. He’s been the sweetest guy ever and as you thought about it, you had an inherent sense of trust in him and it wasn’t just because he was your Head of Security. It was because he had shown himself to be trustworthy, which is something you’d been lacking in your marriage.

These thoughts swirling through your mind is why the entire car ride had ended up being completely silent, and Jimin didn’t try to speak up until he had walked you up the front steps of the Blue House and the two of you were standing in front of the door. 

“Are you alright Y/N-ah?” He asked you and you gave him a smile, because you truly were alright and because you noticed how he didn’t just call you ‘Y/N’. 

“Yeah, more than alright,” you told him and a small smile came across his face. “Thank you again, for today.”

“I told you, I always want to help you,” he reminded you. He reached down and grabbed hold of your hand, the same hand that he had massaged earlier, and brought it up to his lips to press a soft kiss to it. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded with a smile as Jimin released your hand. He turned around and made his way back down the steps as you turned around and pushed open the front door, stepping inside and shutting it behind you. After kicking off your sneakers, you began to make your way to your and Namjoon’s private living quarters when you heard what sounded like something hitting the wall.

“What the hell is that sound?” You mumbled to yourself, walking further down the hallway to you and Namjoon’s bedroom. When you got there, your bedroom door was slightly ajar and when you peaked inside, it felt like every ounce of breath got knocked out of your body.

Namjoon was in your bed, clearly fucking some girl missionary style. The girl was moaning loudly, and you almost swore that you’d heard it somewhere before. After watching for a few seconds, the anger you were feeling bubbled over and you burst forcefully into the room, causing the door to hit the hall and Namjoon and his whore to yell/shriek in surprise.

“Are you fucking serious?!” You hollered and Namjoon looked over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he saw your face.

“Y/N, wait,” he apologized, wrapping the duvet around the lower half of his body as he moved from on top of the girl. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah?” You laughed sarcastically. “Because it looks like you’re fucking some whore in our bed!”

“I’m not a whore,” the girl spoke up and your eyes widened as you recognized the voice. You moved further into the room and you felt your heart break into two when you realized exactly who Namjoon had been fucking. 

“Hello Y/N-ah,” Ahn Hyejin smirked and you shook your head as the overwhelming sense of deja-vu almost became too much for you to handle. “Missed me?”

..........................

Tag List:  @toddsgirl27 @leftieaquarius @joyfulkmusicfan @jennyjq @xcharlottemikaelsonx @pop228 @belatona @babebri144 @dragonqueen01 @paolaa9700 @yiarsan @sunshinein17 @daydreambrliever @lyralefayc @weirdestpersoninearth @peachesandcreamsthings @missseoulite @ramengrace @minyoongi-infiresme @0minabean0 @korkanswers @dchimminie @mysr3 @emily2404xx @leilaakk @vonvi-blog @btsxdoll @heartfeltscribblings

[anothers-trash-my-treasure]

The Mistress.

Summary: Combining Kinktober days 25 (Caught getting off) and 26 (overstimulation) with Fictober day 27 “Give me that.”. Very very very heavily inspired by @edteche2 ‘s “The Master” series so please please please go read those if you haven’t already, they are phenomenal! 

I’ve titled it The Mistress because the original definition of “Mistress” is female expert. I know usually mistress is used as a term for another woman but just forget that for a second, okay? Okay. 

Pairing: Josh Washington / Reader

Rating/Warnings: ohhhh smutty asf baby. Use of sex toys. 

Words: 2000

Tag List. @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @the-almond-dinger @gloriousdarkangelsworld @yousaycoke-isaycaine

Ever since Josh introduced his bundle of toys into your sex life, to say things have gotten interesting was an understatement. The amount of times he came over to your place unannounced, using his key to get in and walking in on you in some pretty compromising situations was honestly ridiculous. It was like he knew when you were using them. And every time he caught you with them, he’d always just sit back and watch. He liked knowing he introduced you to this new world of pleasure. Whereas some guys may have been intimidated by the toys, afraid that they did a better job than they would, he was confident in his ability to make you scream louder than the silicon and batteries could.

And you knew it too. As soon as he made his presence known, your body craved him. It drove you crazy. He’d just sit there, next to you on the bed. Whispering dirty encouragement in your ear.

“C’mon princess. Let me see how good you can make yourself feel.”

“You can have me later baby, just let me watch you. Look so pretty like this.”  

“I know you’re close, be a good girl and cum for me.”

It was truly never a dull moment with Josh. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. But what bothered you, only a little, was how you never walked in on him taking any time for himself. It made you feel a little bad. Were you a bad girlfriend for taking matters into your own hand from time to time? You knew some girls who thought masturbating was a form of cheating. You knew Josh didn’t mind, but part of you wondered if it did bother him a little. And if he wasn’t taking matters into his own hand, were you denying him pleasure by taking care of yourself? 

It got to the point where you were determined to catch him red handed. You wanted to see him, flushed and sweaty under his own hand. Imagining it was one thing, you wanted to see it. He always got so hot and bothered seeing you that way, you wanted to be on the other side of it. But every time you went over, unannounced, he was always just playing video games or cleaning up after making lunch, or something just so mundane and anti-climatic. You were starting to lose hope. Until...

You had initially gone over to surprise him with his favorite dessert you had gotten while out on a ‘girls night’ dinner with some friends. You unlocked his apartment door and let yourself in, expecting to see his head of curls sitting in front of the TV, but he wasn’t there. 

“Josh?” you called out,  “You home?” 

You placed the dessert in the fridge and stood, listening carefully for maybe the sound of the shower running or footsteps coming down the hallway. But the only thing you heard was a soft moan. It was so quiet that at first, you thought you had imagined it. But then a second one sounded, much louder, and you felt your entire body flush with heat. 

Was this it? 

You crept down the hallway, as quietly as you could, down to his room, where the door was opened only a crack. You peaked your head in, pushing the door open just a fraction more to see into the room better. And boy, was the sight even better than you thought it’d be. 

There he was, in all his glory, naked, chest glistening with sweat, accenting his strained muscles. Your eyes travelled down his body, seeing his legs spread open while he worked The Blue Lagoon over his cock over and over. His movements are languid, not too fast or too slow. His hips roll up into the toy as his hand twists the sleeve on each stroke. His eyebrows draw in, a low whining moan leaving his lips. The scene before you is so hot, your thighs squeeze instinctively at the sight, trying to provide yourself some pleasure. 

His eyes flutter open and his body freezes for a second when he sees you.

“Jesus-” he startles, head rolling back on a sigh when he realizes it’s just you, “Scared the shit out of me.”

He goes to move his hand away from himself, obviously assuming that since you’re here he gets to fuck you instead of the sleeve. You shake your head, entering the room fully and walking over to him.

“Wait, don’t stop.”

He looks at you, eyebrows raised in a silent question. 

“Let me watch for a bit.” 

His face flickers through a range of emotions; confusion, surprise, arousal and then landing on smug. He smirks at you, hand moving back to the toy and continuing his previous movements.

“Yeah, I bet you like seeing me like this.” he taunts, cocky and Josh-like in every sense of the word, “Perv.” 

The desire to knock the smirk right off his face bubbles up inside of you and smile sweetly back at him, a plan forming quickly in your mind.

“You just look so good like this, baby.” you coo, settling yourself down next to him on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows and letting your fingers dance over his biceps, “How could I not wanna watch?”

He hums, eyes slipping shut as he starts to lose himself in the pleasure again.

“Tell me how it feels.” you say softly, carefully taking control of the situation without him noticing. 

“Feels good.” he moans, biting down on his bottom lip as his eyes find yours again, “Not as good as you though.” 

You hum thoughtfully, placing a kiss on his shoulder, “You can have me later,” you say, stealing his lines, “Make yourself feel good for me, yeah?” 

He groans, head falling back and eyes slipping shut again. You watch him, drinking in every twitch of his muscles and every moan that leaves his lips. His cheeks are flushed red, hair sweaty at his temples and panting at the tightness around his cock. He’s gorgeous like this. You let him work himself over for a bit, watching as his movements get faster as he approaches climax.

“You gettin’ close baby?” you ask, low and sultry in his ear.

“Yeah,” he breathes, breath hitching when you nibble on his earlobe. His hips twitch and his breath stutters and you know he’ll be done for if you don’t stop him. You hold your hand out, stopping him and making a ‘give me’ motion.

“Give me that.” 

His movements stop and he looks at you, wide eyes and panting, “What?” his voice is high with disbelief. 

“Give me it.” you repeat, eyebrows raised expectantly, “I’m not done with you yet.” 

You can see how much it pains him to remove himself from the sleeve. His cock red angry and beautiful. He watches you intently as he hands the toy over, pupils blown wide, his breathing starting to settle. 

“Good boy,” you purr, capturing his lips for the first time in a sweet kiss. When you pull away he tries to follow, you stop him with a hand to his chest and smile. You have him right where you want him. 

“Just lay back,” you encourage, “I got you, babe.” 

You start kissing down his body. Starting first at his jaw, working your way down his neck and chest. You stop at the juncture between his shoulder and neck, sucking a mark there. You move further down, biting at one of his nipples briefly, enjoying the soft moan he lets out at the feeling. You smile against his skin, continuing your ministrations until you reach the base of his cock. 

You glance up at him from your spot between his legs. He’s barely keeping it together, his eyes bounce back and forth from your eyes to your lips, which are just barely brushing against the tip of him. He’s anticipating your every move, desperate to finish. 

You lick a broad stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him in deep. Your quick movements punch a groan out of his throat and he arches his hips into your wet heat. You know by the desperate twinge in his voice that it won’t take long to get him back on the edge. You work him carefully, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you slowly pull your mouth back. 

“Oh, baby,” he whines, hand tangling in your hair, “‘m gonna cum.” 

You pull off of him, giggling at the face of betrayal he makes at you when you crawl back up his body, “Not so fun, is it?” You tease.

“Babe-” He tries.

 “You do this to me all the time, it’s only fair that I repay the favor.”

“No, baby please,” he grips your arms tightly, pulling your closer and kissing you hard, “I’ve already edged myself like three times, I need to finish.” 

The new information spreads a wave of heat through you, “Oh,” you say, absolutely delighted, “No wonder you’re so sensitive.” 

Your finger trails up his length and you watch with wonder as it twitches and flexes along with a desperate whine from his lips, proving your point brilliantly. 

“You need it, huh?” You ask, keeping your touch feather light.

His hips flex into your touch, trying to get more friction than you’re able to give him at the moment. He whines in response and you know you have to take pity on him. He just looks way too good like this to torture him any further.

“How do you want to finish?” 

“In your mouth.” he answers immediately, eyes locked on your lips, still glistening from your previous ministrations on him.

You place a kiss on him lips, agreeing to the terms before you resume your position between his thighs. You don’t prolong the experience, taking him deep into your mouth and watching with alive eyes as he arches under your mouth.

“Oh, Yesss,” he groans, his hand finding its place in your hair again.  You let him guide your movements, letting him show you exactly what he needs. He’s gasping and you can feel the desperation radiating off of him in waves. He needs this so bad. And you know just what to do to help him along.

You pull back, just barely scraping your teeth on the upstroke before taking a breath and taking him deep into your throat. You hold him there, letting him feel your throat work around him as you choke on it.

“Fuck!” he shouts, spilling down your throat. You pull back just a bit, letting him fuck your throat through his orgasm, working hard to swallow everything he gives you. 

When he pulls you off his cock he’s breathing hard and you sit back to take him in. His softening dick glistening with your spit, cum dripping off the top of it, remnants of what you missed. You can see the muscles in his thigh quiver slightly and you feel a sense of pride roll through you. The amount of times he’d made you quiver like that, it was about time you seen it happen for yourself. 

“Jesus Christ,” he sighs, pulling you close to him so he can kiss you, slow, deep and dirty, “You’re perfect.” 

You chuckle against his lips, stealing one last kiss from his lips before sitting up, “You think I’m perfect now, just wait until you see what I put in the fridge for you.” 

His eyes widen and he props himself up on his elbows, uncaring that his now soft cock is just out in the open, cum cooling on his skin, “Triple Chocolate Fudge cake with Oreo crumble?” 

You nod, barely humming in affirmation before he’s flinging himself out of bed, trying to put his sweatpants on as he runs out the door of his bedroom. You hear him yell a few moments later from the kitchen, mouth full of chocolatey goodness;

“You’re perfect!”