#That sound you can hear is the sound of my heart breaking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingofbodyrolls · 14 hours ago

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To Catch a Merman (m) | pjm

You don’t really enjoy your work on a trawler, but it pays the rent. When you hear some ruckus out of the deck, you go out to investigate, only to be met by an unreal sight: a blonde merman with a sparkly golden tail caught in the net, struggling to get free.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romance / tiny angst → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 17.7k → Warnings (general) + triggers: multiple povs (I tried to keep them apart, but there’s some sections where they mix), a shitty ex (not Jimin or one of the tannies), blackmail (because of said stupid ex), low female rage (it’s very minor, but let me just say that reader can defend herself if need be 🤭). → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), multiple orgasms, cockwarming, fingering, oral (male receiving), biting/marking, merfolk intercourse (it’s like a mating dance, lol), dirty talk. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: I’m baaaaack 🥳 I really love how this one turned out and I hope you love it as much as I do! And now there’s only two more mermaid stories left 🥹 This has truly been special, and i’m so glad I stuck with it and didn’t abandon it like I feared at one moment… Anyway, any kind of feedback will be very much appreciated—it fuels my inspiration, you know? Like just one single comment or reblog can make my heart soar, make me smile and feel like ‘yeah, someone on the internet likes my writing and stories as much as I do’ and it truly helps me to keep going, especially at times where I second guess myself (happens rather often I’m afraid). Please let me know okay? And happy reading ✨

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

“Don’t you think we’ve gone too far out?” Jungkook’s voice wavers, uncertainty woven into each syllable. His dark eyes dart toward the fading silhouette of home, but Jimin doesn’t pause, doesn’t even glance back. His golden tail gleams like sunlight trapped in the sea, cutting through the azure depths with an effortless sway.

“Nah, don’t be such a guppy!” Jimin laughs, his voice buoyant with adventure, rippling through the water as he propels himself faster. Each stroke carries him farther into the unknown, where the current whispers secrets only the bold dare to uncover.

Jungkook lingers, his chest tight with unease. “I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he calls, the words almost swallowed by the vastness. “We’re so far from home…”

Jimin suddenly halts mid-stroke, his brown eyes narrowing. Above them, a shadow looms, dark and colossal, breaking the soft shimmer of sunlight on the waves. The water feels heavier now, the salty tang sharper.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, dread curling in his gut.

“It’s a big boat,” Jimin murmurs, the words bubbling to the surface as if reluctant to leave his lips. His curiosity pulls him forward, closer to the shadow that stretches like a specter above them.

“Yeah, and we should stay away,” Jungkook snaps, his hand darting out to grab Jimin’s arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

But Jimin shrugs him off, slipping through his grip like quicksilver. His golden tail fans wide, propelling him onward, closer to the unknown.

“Just a little closer!” Jimin calls, his voice light, but his gaze locked on the shadow overhead.

“Jimin!” Jungkook shouts, the name tumbling from his mouth like a plea. He spins in the water, struggling against the tide—and his rising anger. His voice cuts through the deep with raw emotion. “You’re going to get us killed!”

But Jimin only laughs again, a sound like the tinkling of glass against the endless blue, as the shadow above deepens, and the world below seems to hold its breath.

“It’s okay!” Jimin calls, his voice barely rising above the whispering waves. He hovers just beneath the surface, closer to danger than Jungkook would ever allow if he had his way. But Jimin’s curiosity burns brighter than his caution. The lure of the unknown pulls at him like a tide. Slowly, almost reverently, he lifts his head above the water, the ocean’s surface breaking around him in ripples of light.

His breath catches. The boat looms above him—a hulking beast of wood and iron, its hull painted in hues of brown and white, weathered by years of salt and sun. Massive cranes stretch skyward like skeletal arms, and heavy nets drape across its deck, glinting faintly under the midday sun. It is not beautiful, but it is powerful, a thing of human hands and ambition, utterly foreign to the delicate harmony of the sea.

Jungkook materializes silently at Jimin’s side, his presence a sudden ripple in the water that startles the older merman. Jimin glances at him, guilt flickering briefly in his wide eyes before giving way to fascination again.

“Jimin,” Jungkook hisses, his voice sharp, his gaze sharper still, like an anchor seeking to tether him. “Turn back.”

But Jimin doesn’t move. His voice trembles, not with fear but with awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” His eyes dart to the figures moving along the deck, their shadows shifting like specters against the glare of sunlight. “There are people up there.”

“Hide!” Jungkook snaps, grabbing Jimin’s arm and pulling him sharply downward. The sea envelops them both again, cool and heavy, muffling the world above. “That’s a trawler,” Jungkook says, his voice low and urgent, every word a warning. “They catch fish, Jimin. You shouldn’t go near it.”

Jimin nods absently, his head bobbing like seaweed caught in the current, but his thoughts are far away, drifting beyond Jungkook’s grasp. The boat has hooked his curiosity like a lure, and no amount of scolding can break its hold.

Jungkook sighs, frustration etching lines into his usually calm expression. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s tail and tugging him backward with a determined kick of his fins. Jimin lets out a half-hearted protest but doesn’t fight him, his gaze lingering on the shadow of the boat until it fades into the distance.

As they swim back to Naraeum, Jungkook glances over his shoulder, his unease like a weight dragging him down. The ocean feels too still, too silent, as if even it is holding its breath. Beside him, Jimin smiles faintly, his mind adrift in a sea of wonder.

Days have passed, yet Jimin cannot shake the image of the trawler from his mind. The boat lingers in his thoughts like a siren’s call—an enigma draped in nets and cranes. He remembers the humans, their shadows etched against the light, and wonders what it would feel like to stand among them, to know the world above the waves. His curiosity churns like the tide, restless and unyielding.

Which is why, against better judgment, his whimsical heart leads him back to where he last saw it. Alone, this time. Jungkook’s warnings echo faintly in his memory, but he brushes them aside like grains of sand. Jungkook doesn’t understand—how could he? To Jimin, the pull of discovery is stronger than fear.

The sun is high, its warmth seeping through the water’s surface as he breaks through the shimmering line between ocean and air. The trawler looms in the distance, its silhouette stark against the azure sky. No voices, no footsteps. The deck looks empty, silent. Safe.

Jimin swims closer, his golden tail cutting through the waves with an eager flick. He dips beneath the surface again, the water cool against his skin as he circles to the far side of the vessel. His heart flutters with anticipation, the world narrowing to this single moment, this single mystery.

But as he moves to rise once more, something catches. A sudden, taut pressure coils around him—a net, rough and unyielding, tangling his tail and pinning his arms to his sides. Panic flares. He thrashes, but the more he struggles, the tighter the net pulls. The world tips and tilts as he’s dragged upward, the ocean slipping away below him, the sun blinding above.

When he finally breaks the surface, it is not in freedom but captivity. He is hoisted into the air, suspended with a writhing chaos of silver-scaled fish. Their bodies slap and squirm against him, cold and frantic. Jimin grunts, his pride stinging almost as much as his skin. Of course, he thinks bitterly. Of course I’d get caught. He’s the kind of merman who can’t even balance on a rock without sliding off. Clumsy to his core. Jungkook had warned him—warned him with exasperation and those sharp, knowing eyes—but he hadn’t listened.

Now, he lies in a heap on the deck, the net a coarse prison pressing against his skin. The trawler’s wood feels foreign beneath him, its surface warm from the sun. For a moment, there is no movement, no sound but the rhythmic creak of the boat and the faint slap of water against its hull.

No humans. Not yet. He exhales shakily, a flicker of relief warming him. Lucky, for now. But luck is fleeting, and the net is unrelenting. He twists and pulls, his tail flicking in frustration, yet the woven threads refuse to yield.

As he struggles, the vastness of his predicament begins to sink in. The boat, the net, the world of humans looming just beyond the corner of his vision—all of it feels too big, too foreign. Yet, even in the face of danger, a part of him remains defiant, his curiosity undimmed. I’ll get out of this, he thinks. I have to.

But the trawler sways beneath him, a silent giant, and the horizon stretches wide and uncaring. The sun blazes overhead, and the sea he loves feels suddenly, painfully far away.

You hate this job. The endless hours, the stench of fish, the grinding noise of the trawler’s machinery—it all gnaws at your soul. But the money is good, and good money keeps you coming back. Still, as you stretch awake in the middle of the day, the remnants of last night’s shift clinging to you like a haze, you can’t shake the feeling that you’d rather be anywhere else.

Weird noises from the deck break through your grogginess, jarring and unfamiliar. You yawn, dragging yourself from the cocoon of your cramped bed, the lazy heat of the cabin making every step feel like a chore. Rubbing your eyes, you shuffle to investigate, the bright daylight spilling through the doorway catching you off guard.

The moment you step outside, the world hits you. The sun blazes mercilessly above, its golden rays turning the sea into a blinding mosaic of light. The air hangs heavy, hot and thick, clinging to your skin like a second layer. And then you see him.

A man—no, an angel—caught in the center of the deck, tangled in the coarse weave of a fishing net. Blonde hair gleams like spun sunlight, cascading over his shoulders. His chest is sculpted, every curve and ridge kissed by the sun, tapering to a tiny waist. Your gaze falters at sturdy thighs, only for your brain to screech to a halt at his dick. Completely naked. Utterly surreal.

His head jerks up, startled brown eyes locking with yours. A loud, high-pitched shriek escapes him, the sound jarring and almost inhuman. He thrashes in the net, his movements frantic as the silver-scaled fish trapped with him flop and slide against his skin. You freeze, your breath caught in your throat, every nerve firing in chaotic confusion.

What the hell is happening? You want to ask something—anything. Maybe ‘do you need help?’ or ‘who are you?’ or even the more pressing ‘how the hell did you get here?’ But your words die on your lips as he suddenly wriggles free of the net. For a moment, he’s all unsteady limbs, rising awkwardly to his feet. Then, like a fleeting mirage, he dashes for the edge of the boat, his movements fluid and oddly graceful despite his wobbling steps.

He pauses just long enough to clap his hands together in a makeshift diving pose. And then he leaps. Quick, but slow enough that you catch a glimpse of a tattoo of moon phases down his spine.

Time slows as he arcs through the air, a golden blur against the deep blue horizon. The water accepts him in a shimmering burst, and he’s gone. You gape, your voice finally finding freedom in a startled yell. Heart pounding, you rush to the edge of the boat, gripping the sun-warmed railing as you peer over. The ocean is calm, indifferent, save for a few bubbles breaking its surface.

You scan the water, searching, your eyes desperate to confirm what you just saw—or to convince yourself it was some kind of sun-soaked fever dream. But there’s nothing. The waves ripple serenely, as if mocking your bewilderment.

No man. No trace. Just the endless expanse of sea, stretching into oblivion.

You stand there, stunned, the net still lying in a crumpled heap behind you, its captured fish glinting in the sunlight. The deck creaks beneath your feet, but the rest of the world seems to hold its breath. Who—or what—was that? And where did he go?

The sea offers no answers. Only silence.

The whole day, he lingers in your mind like a shadow you can’t shake. The golden-haired man, tangled in the net, his brown eyes wide with fear and confusion. Questions churn in your head, relentless as the tide. Is he okay? Did he make it? Why was he there in the first place? And the one you don’t want to ask but can’t silence—Did he drown after he leapt into the sea?

He hadn’t said a word, only that strange startled cry when your eyes met. The sound was raw, unguarded, like something wild caught between fight and flight. You replay it over and over, a haunting echo, as you try to piece him together from fragments: golden hair, sun-bronzed skin, a fleeting presence that disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. And those eyes—terrified, searching. You wonder what they saw in you.

A sudden hand at the small of your back drags you out of your thoughts, the warmth unwelcome and invasive. Riley. You shrug him off sharply, your frown a warning, but he doesn’t take the hint.

“What happened out there?” he asks, curiosity lacing his tone. He must have heard the ruckus earlier, but you’re in no mood to indulge him. “Nothing,” you snap, turning away. “And don’t touch me again. Ever.”

His hand retreats, but his presence lingers like a bad smell. Riley—your ex, your mistake. You curse the naïveté that led you to take this job, blind to the fact he’d be working here too. It felt like fate mocking you, trapping you on this swaying tin can with someone you can’t stand. Every day, you question your sanity for staying. But the paycheck binds you like chains, and so you endure.

Riley’s voice follows you, slick with false concern. “I can protect you, if you’re scared.” The words slither through the air, leaving a sickly taste in your mouth. You stiffen, his tone stirring something sharp and defensive in your chest.

You turn, arms crossing tightly over your body, your voice colder than the ocean below. “I don’t need your protection, Riley. I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself.” Each word is clipped, deliberate, your disdain evident.

He smirks, like your anger is a game he enjoys playing. It makes your stomach churn, and you glare at him before storming away, needing space, needing air.

Your thoughts drift again as you retreat to the edge of the boat, eyes scanning the endless sea. The sunlight dances on the waves, golden and playful, as if mocking your mood. But no matter how far you look, there’s no sign of him—the man who consumed your every thought today. Just water stretching endlessly, as inscrutable as it is vast.

A few days later, the quiet of dawn is shattered by a strange, rhythmic banging that echoes against the hull of the boat. The sound pulls you from sleep like a siren’s call, and before you can think, you’re on your feet, racing out in nothing but your pajamas, the early chill biting at your skin. The sky is a delicate canvas of pale pink and gold, the sea beneath it still dark and restless.

The deck is empty, the vast stretch of wood as silent as the horizon. But the sound persists—low, insistent, coming from the side of the boat. Heart thudding, you approach the railing, peering over cautiously.

And there he is.

Your breath hitches. For a moment, all you can do is stare, your mouth falling open as if to match the endless gape of the sea below. Caught in the coarse weave of the net, a merman thrashes against his bindings. Half of his shimmering tail—gold and flecked with iridescent yellows—remains submerged in the water, while his torso, lean and sunlit, glistens with droplets that catch the dawn light like scattered jewels. His blonde hair, unruly and windblown, clings to his face in wild streaks.

Familiar blonde hair. A face you’ve seen before.

He struggles, his movements frantic and uncoordinated, the net tangling tighter with every thrash. “Help!” he cries, his voice raw and desperate, carried over the waves to no one in particular. His gaze hasn’t found you yet, but his fear is palpable, written in every line of his body.

“I can help you!” you call out, your voice breaking through the morning stillness like a splash of cold water.

He freezes, flinching at the sound. Slowly, as if time itself has slowed, he turns his head. His eyes meet yours, and in an instant, the fight drains from his limbs. Shock overtakes him, his expression teetering between recognition and disbelief.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The sea murmurs below, the net creaks with the sway of the boat, and still, his gaze holds yours, weighing something unseen, something fragile.

“Can you help me out of this net?” he asks at last, his voice low, wary, the tension in his shoulders betraying his uncertainty.

You nod, steadying yourself against the railing. “I can,” you reply, your words measured, reassuring. “But I’ll need to raise you onto the deck first. The net—it’s too heavy to untangle in the water.”

His lips press into a thin line, his reluctance plain, but he nods, a flicker of trust crossing his features. The moment feels precarious, like balancing on the edge of a wave.

“All right,” he murmurs. “Just... be quick.”

You grip the railing tighter, your heart pounding as you prepare to pull him aboard. The world feels charged, like the air before a storm, and the sea watches silently, its secrets just beneath the surface.

You hear him sigh, a soft, defeated sound that seems to blend with the whisper of the waves against the hull. Slowly, he relents, letting you take control. With a steady pull, you drag him and the heavy net out of the water, your muscles straining as the glistening form of the merman rises onto the deck.

There he lays, sprawled and still, water pooling beneath him as it drips from his sleek, otherworldly form. You step closer, and for the first time, you truly see him. He isn’t just beautiful—he’s ethereal, like something conjured from the dreams of gods. His face is serene yet haunting, framed by unruly blonde locks that cling to his skin, while his shimmering tail catches the sun, reflecting colors that defy description.

Your breath hitches. It’s him. The man who has haunted your thoughts for days, the one you feared might have been claimed by the sea. Relief floods through you, mingled with awe. He didn’t drown. He didn’t vanish. He’s here—and he’s a merman.

Shaking off your daze, you kneel beside him, your hands working to untangle the net from his glistening body. Each movement feels surreal, your fingers sliding over the slick scales as you free him inch by inch. When the last knot falls away, you can’t help but linger, your gaze tracing the curve of his tail. It’s a masterpiece of nature, wet and scaly, each iridescent hue shimmering like molten gold under the light. Without thinking, your hand reaches out, brushing against it.

The texture is mesmerizing—cool, smooth, and alien. But then, just as you’re about to marvel aloud, a flicker of light catches your eye. Tiny sparkles dart around him, a strange, magical shimmer that dances like fireflies in the dawn. You blink, and suddenly, his tail isn’t there anymore.

Your heart stops. What you’re touching now isn’t a tail—it’s skin. Wet, firm, human skin. Your hand rests high on his thigh, alarmingly close to…

You jerk back as though scalded, a startled shriek escaping your lips. Heat rises to your cheeks as your mind spirals, but he doesn’t seem fazed. Instead, he curls into himself, folding his arms and drawing his knees up, his entire form radiating vulnerability. His golden hair falls over his face like a curtain, shielding him from your gaze, as if the transformation has stolen some vital part of him.

Snapping yourself out of it, you scramble to your feet, casting about for something to cover him. A roll of tarp catches your eye, and you grab it, moving swiftly to drape it over his body. His wide, questioning eyes follow your hurried movements, but before you can say anything, footsteps echo from behind.

“Hide,” you hiss under your breath, pulling the tarp snugly around him. He doesn’t protest, just shifts deeper into the shadows, his presence shrinking to near invisibility.

Riley strides onto the deck, his boots thudding against the wood with deliberate weight. His face is unreadable, but his gaze sweeps the space like a predator searching for prey. “What’s going on out here?” he asks, his tone sharp and suspicious.

“Nothing,” you blurt, your voice an octave too high. You shift your body subtly, blocking Riley’s view of the tarp-covered figure behind you. The air between you crackles with tension as you force yourself to meet his eyes, willing him to believe your lie.

“Hmm… okay,” Riley says, lingering just long enough to set your teeth on edge. “I heard you scream, so if you need me, just let me know.” His gaze sweeps the boat once more, like he’s searching for the ghost of your secrets.

You scowl, crossing your arms as a shield. “Fuck off,” you snap, the words sharp as broken glass.

Finally, he shrugs and turns, his heavy footsteps receding into the distance. The tension eases its grip on your chest, and you let out a shaky breath, relief rushing in like a tide. Only when he’s gone do you feel like you can truly breathe again.

Turning back, you kneel by the tarp, fingers trembling slightly as you lift its edge. Beneath it, the man—if you can call him that—sits curled in on himself, his golden hair a wild halo around his wary eyes. Those eyes fix on you, wide and mistrusting, their depths dark as uncharted waters.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly, your voice gentle as the breeze over calm seas. “I won’t hurt you.”

“But you’re human,” he replies, his voice low, tinged with fear and something unnameable. He shifts back instinctively, his posture guarded, keeping a cautious distance as if you might sprout claws at any moment.

You hesitate, not wanting to push him further into his shell. “Are you hungry?” you ask instead, steering the conversation into safer waters. You don’t press him; instead, you keep still, aware of the fragile balance between his fear and your curiosity.

His stomach answers for him, the loud, unmistakable growl breaking the tension. A blush colors his cheeks, and to your surprise, he giggles—a light, melodic sound that’s startlingly human.

“Do you have tang?” he asks, his eyes brightening for the briefest moment, curiosity peeking through his fear.

Tang. The word catches you off guard, but you quickly realize what he means. A smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah,” you say, nodding. “I think I have some tangy snacks in my room. Hold on.”

You pause, glancing at his dripping figure, and add, “And I’ll get you some clothes too.”

His gaze softens, just a little, as if he’s starting to believe you might not be a threat after all.

Rising quickly, you dart into your small cabin, rifling through drawers until you find a bag of snacks that might fit the bill. Then, with a surge of boldness, you sneak into one of your coworker’s rooms. Borrowing—stealing, really—a pair of pants and a shirt, you mutter an apology under your breath. It’ll have to do.

When you return, he’s still seated where you left him, his form a quiet figure against the chaos of the sea around you. You hand him the clothes, and he takes them with a hesitant nod. Watching him dress is like watching a bird try to walk—awkward, unnatural, his movements jerky and unsure, as though his body resists this strange, human choreography.

But eventually, the oversized shirt hangs from his shoulders, the borrowed pants bunched awkwardly around his waist. He adjusts the fabric with a distracted frown before shifting his focus to the snacks you’ve brought. The tangy treats vanish quickly, his hands moving with an efficiency born of hunger, though he pauses occasionally to eye the brightly colored packaging like it’s something from another world.

You hand him a bottle of water, and he gulps it down, his throat working rhythmically, the sound amplified in the stillness between you. Finally, you settle across from him, your knees tucked close as you take him in—not just his appearance, but his presence, the way he seems both fragile and powerful, like something caught between two worlds.

“What’s your name?” you ask softly, breaking the silence.

He pauses, lowering the bottle, then meets your gaze. “Jimin,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue like a whispered secret.

You nod, offering him a small, warm smile, hoping it will ease the wariness in his expression. “Hi, Jimin. I’m Y/N.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the ocean filling the space between your words. But curiosity pushes forward, unbidden. “What are you doing here?”

Jimin chuckles, the sound soft but tinged with frustration as he pops another snack into his mouth. “I just wanted to see the boat again,” he admits, shaking his head. “And I got caught in that stupid net again…” He rolls his eyes, the gesture so human it catches you off guard, deflating with a sigh that seems to sink into the deck beneath him.

But then his gaze sharpens, flicking around the empty deck as if he senses unseen eyes. “Why are you hushing and hiding me like I’m some sort of secret?” he asks, his voice tinged with curiosity but not without suspicion.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “Do you really want my coworkers to find you? To know that you’re a merman?” you counter, your tone cautious but earnest.

He considers this for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line before he exhales. “I guess not,” he mutters, the words laced with a resigned wisdom. “Humans aren’t trustworthy.” His tone is matter-of-fact, not cruel, but unyielding, as though he’s learned this lesson too many times before.

You flinch inwardly at the generalization, but you let it pass. “I’m trustworthy,” you say, your smile growing as you try to project a confidence you’re not sure you feel.

He tilts his head, his sharp eyes searching yours, and it’s clear he isn’t convinced. The wall of mistrust between you is a thick one, forged not in a moment, but over years, perhaps even centuries, of caution bred into his kind.

But that’s okay, you think. You didn’t expect trust to come easily.

“I swear, I mean you no harm,” you add, leaning back slightly, your voice quieter now, as though softer words might slip past his defenses.

Maybe it’s all the fantasy novels you’ve devoured recently, their tales of impossible creatures and fragile bonds, but a strange determination takes root in your chest: you have to protect him. At least from Riley and the rest of your coworkers. You can already picture the chaos that would erupt if they discovered mermaids were more than just stories. The scandal. The cruelty. No—if nothing else, you owe him safe passage back to his home.

“Have you ever been out of the ocean before? Or… on land?” you ask, your voice soft, as if you’re afraid to disturb the fragile magic of the moment.

He shakes his head, though his posture eases, his body less coiled now. “I’ve never been to land before,” he says, his voice carrying a wistful undercurrent. “But plenty of my friends have.”

As he speaks, his gaze drifts far away, as if caught on a tide only he can see. There’s a dreamy quality to his expression, a flicker of longing that glows like sunlight beneath the waves. “I really want to see land,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with wonder. But then it dips, quiet and heavy, as he fidgets with his hands. “But...”

Before you can think better of it, the words tumble out of your mouth like a pebble skipping across water. “I can show you, if you want to!”

He blinks, startled, and his head tilts slightly, those deep eyes locking onto yours. “You would?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if afraid the offer might vanish if he speaks too loudly.

“Yeah, sure,” you say with a shrug, trying to sound casual. But your smile is warm, gentle, and you hope it will soothe his lingering doubt. “You seem nice. And curious. I can show you my world.”

Your heart flutters at the absurdity of it all—you, befriending a merman. A mythical creature. The stuff of bedtime stories and legends. If your coworkers knew, they’d call you crazy. But you’d rather be crazy than let this moment slip through your fingers. Your parents always taught you to be kind, and if kindness means helping a creature from the deep see a dream made real, then so be it.

His honeyed skin flushes faintly, the blush soft as a sunrise, and he murmurs, “Okay.” But then his smile falters, his hands folding together. “But I have to go back home now. My friends… they’ll worry about me if I’m gone too long.”

The spell breaks as he rises to his feet, and you follow him to the boat’s edge. The sea stretches below, glittering and endless, waiting to welcome him back.

He turns to you one last time, his golden hair haloed by the sunlight, and then, without a moment’s hesitation, he dives. The splash sends ripples across the surface, but before you can process his departure, the clothes he was wearing resurface, bobbing lazily in the water.

A second later, his head pops up, grinning. “Oops,” he says, his voice bright with laughter, and he gathers the floating garments, tossing them up to you with surprising precision.

He waves, and with a flick of his magnificent tail—shimmering like molten gold in the sunlight—he disappears into the depths. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the water, the echo of his presence lingering like the last note of a song.

You sigh, shaking your head. Maybe you have been reading too many fantasy novels. But as you fold his clothes, still damp and salty, you know one thing for sure: you’ll see him again.

Jimin has never truly met a human before. He’s always kept his distance, heeding the Elders’ grim warnings—dark tales of cruelty and greed. Stories of merfolk snared in nets, dragged from the waves to live as captives behind glass walls, their freedom traded for fleeting human fascination. The thought of such confinement has always chilled him. The ocean, vast and endless, is his sanctuary—a realm where he can stretch his fins and feel the infinite embrace of freedom.

But then he met you.

You’re not what he expected, not at all. You’re not cruel or cold, not the predator the stories painted. You’re warm, kind, and impossibly gentle—like a rare current that carries him somewhere new. And though his heart whispers caution, he can’t help but lean closer, drawn to your presence like sunlight breaking through the water’s surface.

There’s something about you that stirs a curiosity he’s long tried to ignore. He’s always been intrigued by the human world, yes—but not enough to chase it. Not like Jungkook, who used to live on land as a child, or Yoongi, with his endless fascination for women, or Hoseok, with his relentless fascination for breaking rules.

Jimin has always been curious and daring, but only in measured strokes—never quite brave enough to venture beyond the safety of the waves. Until now.

Now, he finds himself wondering. About you. About the strange life you lead aboard that towering vessel. Are you like the others, here to strip the sea of its bounty? Or is there something more to your story, something deeper? He wonders what your world is like—on land, where the tides are invisible and the air doesn’t shimmer.

How different it must be from Naraeum, his underwater home, where coral spires rise like cathedrals and the water sings with life.

And yet, for all his questions, one thought rises above the rest, startling in its clarity: You don’t seem bad at all.

In fact, he thinks, you might just be good.

Jimin knows well—thanks to Seokjin’s and Namjoon’s tales—that fish don’t swim on land, and that humans experience intimacy in ways unlike his kind. It fascinates him, though he would never admit it outright. Not that he’s thinking about you like that. No, it’s just curiosity, an innocent hunger to understand the unknown.

He’s heard Yoongi’s endless stories of wild escapades on land, tales laced with laughter and mischief. They always stir an uproar—especially from Seokjin, whose words crash like waves against Yoongi’s tide, insisting that not all humans are like the ones his friend indulges in, fleeting and shallow. Jimin has always stayed quiet during those heated debates. He isn’t like Yoongi, reckless and bold, and he isn’t like Seokjin, careful and measured. He’s just… himself.

Truthfully, Jimin doesn’t know what he wants from life, other than the life he already has. For years, he’s floated along, content to be a merman in the vast embrace of the sea. No mate has caught his eye, no grand ambition has stirred his soul. His parents, thankfully, don’t push—they let him be. But sometimes, late at night, he wonders if that’s enough.

Lately, his thoughts have been restless, swimming further than his fins ever could. What else is out there? What experiences are waiting to be tasted, untried and undiscovered? Perhaps that’s why he’s drawn to you—not just because you freed him, not just because you’re kind. It’s something deeper, something he can’t quite name.

And yes, you’re beautiful too. Not in the obvious, dazzling way of a siren’s song, but in a quiet, understated way that feels honest and real. He thinks of your smile, the way it tilted the edges of the moment into something softer, and he wonders if he’ll ever see it again.

As the sun dips low, sending shards of gold skimming the water’s surface, Jimin darts through the waves, leaving the coral towers of Naraeum behind. The ocean stretches endlessly before him, but his destination is clear—your boat. It’s been days since he last saw you, days since you freed him from the trap of that cursed net.

And yet, he feels it still—a strange pull in his chest, like a current drawing him toward the unknown. Toward you. He doesn’t know why he feels it, doesn’t know what he’s chasing. He only knows that he wants to see you again, to hear your voice ripple through the air like a melody he’s only just learned to love.

He lifts his head above the water, careful to keep his distance from the boat, his gaze sweeping its silhouette until it lands on you. You’re leaning over the bow, framed by the soft gold of the setting sun. The light dances on your skin, lending it an ethereal shimmer, as though you belong more to the heavens than the earth. But your face tells another story—it’s etched with sorrow, your gaze heavy as it clings to the horizon.

Something tugs at Jimin’s heart, an ache he can’t quite place. You don’t look like you belong on this boat, amidst the steel and salt and nets. It doesn’t seem to fit you, this life. He wonders, briefly, if you’re trapped in your own kind of net, caught in something you didn’t choose.

The sun dips lower, casting a burning amber trail across the water, and you remain there, lost in thought. Unable to bear the weight of your sadness, Jimin swims closer, circling around the front of the boat. He keeps his movements light, the water rippling gently around him as he glides into your view.

When your eyes finally find him, the change is instant. The sorrow lifts from your face like the breaking of a storm, and the softness of your smile is like the first light of dawn. It stirs something deep within him—a warmth that bubbles to the surface like the sea kissed by sunlight.

He smiles back, instinctively, his heart fluttering in a way he doesn’t quite understand.

You make your way to the side of the boat, where the nets hang ominously. He notices and keeps his distance, wary of the tangling web that had once ensnared him.

“Hi, Jimin,” you call, your voice carrying across the water, warm and soothing like a lullaby. You wave, a gesture so simple yet disarming, your smile soft and genuine.

“Hi!” he replies, his voice tinged with joy, his hand breaking the surface of the water in a wave. He can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face—it feels so natural now that he knows you mean him no harm.

“Do you want to come onto land with me tomorrow?” you ask, your voice gentle, yet carrying a spark of excitement. There’s a glimmer in your eyes, a kind of light that makes Jimin’s heart skip in a way that feels both thrilling and terrifying.

He nods shyly, the corners of his lips curling into a smile. “Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft but brimming with eagerness. A giddy kind of warmth rises in his chest, the thrill of the unknown pulling him forward even as fear tugs at his edges. The thought of stepping onto land—foreign and solid and utterly unyielding—is daunting. But he figures, with you by his side, the leap might not feel so far.

“Cool,” you say with a grin that makes him feel a little braver. You glance out toward the endless expanse of ocean, the breeze teasing at your hair. “What have you been up to?” you ask, leaning onto the edge again, mirroring the easy way he found you.

Jimin hesitates for just a moment before diving into his thoughts. “Not much,” he says, though the memories bubble up quickly, bright and alive. “Just hanging out with my friends. Taehyung and I found this lake—it’s tucked away, surrounded by these beautiful willow trees, their branches dipping right into the water. It felt... magical.” He smiles as he speaks, the memory playing vividly in his mind like sunlight glinting through leaves. “And then I went with Namjoon to collect gems. He’s so good at finding the rare ones—ruby reds, deep blues... like pieces of the sky trapped underwater.”

He notices the way your face softens as you listen, the way your focus seems entirely on him, and it fills him with a kind of happiness he didn’t know he was searching for. Maybe, just maybe, you’re as curious about his world as he is about yours.

“That sounds amazing! Maybe you could show me that lake sometime... or even introduce me to your friends?” you ask, your voice carrying a playful lilt, but there’s a softness beneath it—a quiet yearning that Jimin can’t quite place.

“You want to meet my friends?” he giggles, his laughter as light as the waves that lap against the boat. His tail shimmers beneath the surface, wiggling playfully, sending ripples out into the vast blue.

“Yeah,” you reply, a mock pout gracing your lips, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “If that sort of thing is allowed?”

The sight of your expression tugs a laugh from him, warm and unguarded. It’s the kind of laugh that bubbles up from the depths of his chest, spilling out like sunlight breaking through water. You’re pouting, and it’s just about the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah, it’s okay and I’ll ask my friends,” he says, still smiling, though his words carry the weight of quiet rebellion. He doesn’t tell you the whole truth—that the Elders would frown at the idea, their endless warnings about humans ringing in his mind like a distant current. But rules have always felt like suggestions to him and his friends, currents to swim against rather than be swept away by. Besides, you don’t seem like the humans in the stories—how could you be?

“Thank you,” you say, your smile brightening like the morning sun cresting over the horizon, chasing away shadows. It’s a smile that lingers, and it strikes something in him—a mix of excitement and trepidation, a feeling that maybe showing you his world might not be such a risk after all.

“Do you like working on that boat?” he asks, his voice slipping out before he has a chance to second-guess it. The question has lingered at the back of his mind ever since he first saw you on deck, that distant, wistful look in your eyes that seemed to carry a quiet sadness.

For a moment, your face falters, your gaze slipping away as if the weight of his question pulls something heavy from inside you. A soft sigh escapes your lips, deflated, like the last breath of air from a slowly sinking balloon. “No, not really,” you confess, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He tilts his head, genuinely puzzled, unable to grasp the why. “Then why do it?” he asks, as if the concept of choosing something without passion is entirely foreign to him.

You lower your gaze, shoulders slumping in surrender. A groan slips from your throat, a mixture of frustration and resignation. “I guess I only do it for the money,” you murmur, the words heavy in the quiet space between you. “I know, it sounds super lame... But it pays really well. It pays my rent, keeps me afloat, you know?” You trail off, uncertainty flickering across your features. “I don’t know if you have money and rent down there…”

“We do, so I get it,” he says, his voice soft but steady, an unspoken understanding passing between you. His gaze is warm, like a patch of sunlight breaking through the clouds, reassuring you without judgment. “It still sucks though,” he adds, a quiet sympathy in his tone. “Sounds kinda soulless.”

You let out a long, weary exhale, the weight of the words settling deep inside. “It is,” you agree, the truth hanging in the air like a shadow that refuses to leave.

“I’d love to do something else, but I don’t really know what,” you admit, your voice heavy with frustration. “I’ve always felt a connection to the sea, to everything in it—but catching all these fish, it’s like my soul is slowly being chipped away.” You let out a deep sigh, your eyes distant, haunted by the sight of the ocean’s wounds. “And the plastic... it’s everywhere. It clogs the water, suffocates the life. It’s maddening, you know? People are stupid,” you mutter, the anger in your chest bubbling over.

Jimin’s soft laugh cuts through the tension, and it takes you by surprise. His eyes, full of warmth, reflect the same frustration. “I agree,” he says, voice laced with quiet conviction. “The plastic—it’s everywhere. I’ve had to help so many fish and turtles get out of plastic bottles and containers. It’s heartbreaking.” His lips curl into a gentle scowl.

Then, a smile breaks across his face, soft but genuine, like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “But hey, I can help you brainstorm alternatives to catching fish on that boat,” he offers, the glint of curiosity in his eyes.

You laugh, the tension easing in your chest, your heart fluttering at the simplicity of the moment. “Yeah, we can do that tomorrow. I’d love to hear your ideas,” you say, a sense of ease settling between you.

Jimin smiles, his heart racing slightly at the thought of tomorrow. As you talk, the conversation flows easily—your questions about his home, Naraeum, the life he leads there. He tells you that there’s no ‘work’ in the way you understand it, that their society values freedom above all else. Merfolk can take on roles if they choose, but many, like him, simply exist, untethered by obligation.

The sun begins to dip, casting its final, golden light over the water. You glance at the sky and realize it’s time to go. “I should head inside to get some dinner,” you say reluctantly, feeling the pull of the boat’s steady rhythm, but also the weight of your own hunger.

Jimin nods, though a twinge of regret flickers in his eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, his voice soft, filled with something unspoken.

He waves you a quiet goodbye, and with a flick of his tail, he dives into the water, his figure disappearing as he swims toward home—his heart a mix of eager excitement and a flutter of nerves, knowing tomorrow will bring him closer to a world he’s never truly known.

The next day, Jimin glides through the dawn-touched water, the ocean aglow with soft gold as the rising sun kisses its surface. He reaches your boat just as the world begins to wake, his heart thudding with a mix of trepidation and anticipation. You greet him with a gentle smile, helping him aboard with the net he so despises. It entangles him briefly, like a stubborn remnant of the sea reluctant to let him go, but it’s the easiest way to bring him aboard without a fuss.

“You can hide in my room until we reach shore,” you whisper, your voice low and soothing, like the calm of the ocean before a storm. You hand him clothes—simple, unfamiliar garments—and he places them carefully on the wooden planks. He waits in silence, his shimmering tail already beginning to fade as the magic of transformation takes hold. When his legs return, he moves with an endearing awkwardness, pulling on the human clothes with clumsy hands before following you below deck.

Your room is small, a haven carved out of the ship’s heart, yet it feels barren, like a place you exist in but do not truly inhabit. The walls are plain wood, the cream linens unremarkable, and the single duffel bag on the floor overflows with your life in disarray. Clothes spill out like secrets, but nothing in the space speaks of who you are. Jimin scans for something personal—a photograph, a trinket, a scrap of you—but finds nothing. It feels like a shell, a husk waiting to be filled, and he wonders if it mirrors how you feel here, adrift and longing.

As he settles into the quiet, he can’t help but wonder about the place you call home. Is it warm, filled with mismatched pieces of you—a kaleidoscope of colors and memories—or is it restrained, earthy and neutral, a sanctuary of simplicity? The thought lingers as he sits alone in your absence, his curiosity pulling him further into your world, one question at a time.

Jimin flinches slightly when you step through the door, the soft creak of the hinges breaking the quiet. You’re holding a plate in your hands, the aroma wafting toward him like a gentle invitation. His wide eyes soften as you pass him the food, and he takes a tentative bite. The flavors bloom on his tongue, unfamiliar yet comforting, like the memory of a warm embrace he didn’t know he’d missed.

“You made this?” he asks, glancing up at you, his eyes bright with curiosity and quiet admiration.

Your cheeks flush, and you glance away, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, I did.”

“It’s really good!” he exclaims, his grin unguarded as he dives back into the meal. The crisp, vibrant vegetables catch his attention—they taste fresh and alive, reminding him of the sea’s bounty.

You smile, a mix of relief and pride lighting your expression. “I’m glad you like it. We’re sailing back to land now, but it’ll take a while before we arrive. I need to go prepare for docking. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

He nods, his confidence warm and reassuring. “Oh, I’ll be fine,” he says easily, though his eyes flit around the room, seeking distraction. Then, something catches his attention—a book perched on your nightstand, its pages slightly curled from wear. “Can I read that?” he asks, pointing.

You follow his gaze and nod, a little surprised but pleased. “Sure,” you say, stepping out, leaving him with the quiet hum of the boat and his newfound curiosity.

The book feels delicate in his hands, its cover smooth and inviting. He opens it to find himself drawn into a tale of tangled fates: a woman, lost in the vast embrace of the woods, stumbles upon a brooding stranger whose silence hides his own scars. Jimin reads with rapt attention, imagining the dappled forest light and the quiet intimacy of strangers finding solace in each other. The words seem to pulse with life, vivid as seafoam and just as transient.

He’s just beginning to sense an undercurrent of tension—something deeper stirring between the characters—when the door swings open, and your voice pulls him back to the present. “We’ve docked,” you announce, your excitement barely masked under a layer of calm.

Jimin sets the book down reluctantly, his mind lingering on the unfinished story. But then he looks at you, and it occurs to him that perhaps he’s stepped into a story of his own.

Jimin closes the book with a quiet snap, trailing after you as you reach for his hand. Your fingers intertwine with his, and he follows you onto the deck, his heart racing—not with fear, but with anticipation. The morning air greets him with familiar scents of salt and brine, mingled with the faintest trace of diesel and earth. Above, seagulls carve arcs against the blue sky, their cries a lilting symphony of the shore.

The harbor is alive with motion with workers hefting crates, passengers milling about, and the rhythmic creak of moored boats swaying in the gentle tide. Jimin’s wide eyes take it all in as you weave through the crowd, his senses overwhelmed by the vibrant chaos. The sunlight gleams on water-slicked wood, and the reflections from the sea ripple across the hulls of nearby ships—small fishing boats and grand yachts alike. He stumbles once, distracted by the sheer newness of it all, but your hand steadies him, your warmth anchoring him amidst the tide of humanity.

“I want to show you my favorite place,” you muse, your voice lilting with quiet excitement. You glance over your shoulder at him, a teasing glint in your eyes that sparks his curiosity.

“What’s your favorite place?” he asks, tilting his head to study you. His voice is quiet, though he can’t hide the wonder in it.

“You’ll see soon,” you reply, your smile playful and soft. The secret wraps itself around the moment, and Jimin can’t help but feel giddy anticipation thrumming in his chest. Your hand fits so naturally in his, and the simple gesture sends a warmth through him, like the sun spilling over the waves.

As the crowd thins, you lead him down a quieter street lined with colorful storefronts and weathered cobblestones. The sounds of the harbor fade into the distance, replaced by the hum of life in this quaint corner of the world. Jimin moves to walk beside you now, his steps falling into rhythm with yours.

Then, you stop before a tall, gleaming structure—its glass facade catching the morning light and scattering rainbows across the pavement. Above the entrance, bold letters spell out Ocean Wonders. Jimin freezes, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as the irony strikes him.

“This is your favorite place?” he asks, turning to you with amusement glimmering in his eyes.

“It is,” you say, grinning as you squeeze his hand. “You’ll see why.” There’s a spark of pride in your voice, and Jimin doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up as you lead him toward the entrance. The glass doors slide open with a soft whoosh, welcoming you into the heart of your secret place. As you step inside to purchase tickets, Jimin feels the excitement settle in his bones, like the pull of a current. If this place is a reflection of you, he knows it will be something truly extraordinary.

“Don’t you find it ironic, taking a merman to an aquarium?” Jimin chuckles as you hand over the money for your tickets. His tone is light, teasing, but his gaze carries the flicker of genuine amusement. You nudge him with your shoulder, a playful smirk gracing your lips.

“Maybe, but you’re the best tour guide I could ask for,” you quip, stepping into the cavernous space.

The air inside feels cool and alive with an undercurrent of the sea’s presence, the walls painted in deep blues and verdant greens. Overhead, glass ceilings allow rays of sunlight to dapple through, casting shifting patterns of light on the floors below. Jimin’s gaze drifts upward to the massive windows that frame the ocean in the distance, the waves visible beyond the aquarium’s curated worlds.

Your footsteps echo softly as you approach a shallow touch pool filled with flat fish, their mottled skins blending with the sandy bottom. You lean over, rolling up your sleeve as you extend your fingers into the water, but the slippery creatures evade your touch with a practiced finesse. Jimin watches, amusement flickering in his eyes, and when he speaks, it’s not to mock, but to marvel.

“Flatfish have a trick,” he begins, his voice gentle but sure, “when they’re scared, they bury themselves under the sand, leaving only their eyes exposed. But they’re not just hiding; they’re watching, waiting.”

His words captivate you as much as the fish do, and you glance up at him, intrigued. The informational placard nearby doesn’t say a word about this, but of course, Jimin would know. These creatures are his neighbors, after all. His world brims with secrets science has yet to uncover, and you realize, once again, how little humans know about the depths beneath the waves.

“Keep going,” you urge, your voice laced with wonder. Jimin grins, launching into more facts about the sea life before you, his knowledge as endless as the ocean itself.

The two of you meander deeper into the exhibit, passing a chilly enclosure where penguins waddle and dive with unbridled joy. The cold air nips at your skin, and you instinctively press closer to Jimin, your arms brushing against his. He stiffens for a moment, surprised, but then relaxes, leaning into your warmth as if drawn by a tide he can’t resist.

“Warmer now?” he murmurs, a hint of a laugh in his voice.

“Much,” you reply, tilting your head to smile up at him before continuing toward the heart of the aquarium.

You find yourselves before the massive central tank—a sprawling, shimmering pool alive with schools of fish, sleek rays, and prowling sharks. From the upper level, you both peer down, watching as a keeper tosses food into the water. The sharks move with a lethargic grace, their power undeniable but softened by the dreamy quality of the water. Jimin stands close, silent, observing not the animals but the awe on your face as you take it all in.

When you venture below to the tunnel beneath the tank, the world transforms into an underwater cathedral. Light dances through the glass, rippling across your faces as the sharks glide overhead. Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours as you marvel at the creatures, your expression one of pure wonder.

“It’s funny,” he says softly, his voice breaking the spell of silence. “I see this every day, but through your eyes, it feels…different. More magical.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. A blush colors your cheeks, but you quickly deflect, pointing toward a particularly vibrant fish darting by.

Jimin laughs, his chest rumbling lightly as he shares personal anecdotes about the creatures you pass. Stories about turtles he’s untangled from nets, rays he’s raced through coral canyons, and even sharks who’ve stubbornly refused to move from his favorite sunning rock. His tales are sprinkled with humor and affection, each one painting the ocean as not just a habitat, but a home.

You listen, enraptured, giggling at his antics and marveling at his world. And as you walk together through the aquarium, you realize that this day isn’t just a glimpse into your favorite place—it’s a bridge between your worlds, built with each shared story, each laugh, and each lingering look.

You guide him to the large pool that stretches before a neat row of seats—a shimmering expanse of water where visitors can slip beneath the surface and swim with the fish. This is your favorite place, a sanctuary of dreams just beyond your reach. “I’ve always wanted to dive with the fish,” you muse softly, your voice carrying a wistful longing as you gesture toward the glass, where iridescent fish dart and glide in hypnotic rhythms.

Jimin watches you, a gentle smile gracing his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he feels your yearning as if it’s a song only he can hear. Swimming has always been second nature to him, as essential as breathing, and for the first time, he considers what it might mean to long for something so ordinary to him, yet so extraordinary to you.

As you wander further, voices drift toward you—animated chatter about seals and feeding time. Jimin’s ears perk up, curiosity lighting his features. “I think they’re going to feed the seals,” he says, turning to you with a spark of childlike wonder in his eyes. “Can we go see?”

“Of course,” you reply, unable to resist his enthusiasm. You take his hand and weave through the crowd, stepping out of the building and into the golden warmth of summer.

The sun kisses your skin as you approach a stone-encased inlet, a small haven of water bordered by a bridge. Beyond the enclosure, the ocean stretches endlessly, a liquid mirror reflecting the azure sky. On a central platform, three seals lounge in anticipation, their sleek bodies gleaming under the sunlight. Jimin’s eyes widen as employees emerge with buckets of fish, tossing them to the eager creatures.

The seals move with a playful grace, leaping and spinning for their rewards, drawing delighted gasps and cheers from the gathered crowd. Children press against the rails, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes, while elderly onlookers smile with quiet contentment. Jimin takes it all in—the shared joy, the simplicity of this moment, and the warmth of humanity’s connection to the creatures of his world.

When the feeding ends, the crowd disperses, leaving only you and him. Hand in hand, you wander to the edge of the bridge, the faint murmur of the sea your only companion. The breeze is soft, carrying the scent of salt and the promise of freedom, and it stirs your hair like a whisper. The horizon glows faintly, the sun beginning its slow descent, painting the world in hues of gold and peach.

You stand there, side by side, the ocean sprawling endlessly before you. Jimin feels the rhythmic pulse of the waves as if they’re beating in time with his heart. He glances at you, your gaze fixed on the water, your expression peaceful yet contemplative. The salt clings to your skin, the light dances in your eyes, and Jimin thinks there’s something magical about the way you fit into this moment—part of his world, yet entirely your own.

“I can see why this is your favorite place,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a ripple in the air between you.

You turn to him, your smile soft, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Jimin doesn’t reply right away, his thoughts caught between the beauty of the view and the person standing beside him. Finally, he nods, a faint blush warming his cheeks as he looks back to the sea.

And as the waves lap gently against the stones, and the breeze carries the songs of the ocean to your ears, you stand there together, two worlds colliding in the quiet hush of twilight.

“You know, I’ve always loved the smell of salt in the air. There’s something about it—about the sea—that pulls at me,” you confess softly, your voice carrying a note of wistfulness, as though the waves have always whispered secrets only you can hear.

Jimin nods, his expression warm with understanding. “I get it,” he replies, his voice as calm as the tide. But before you can say anything more, he begins to shrug off his clothes.

Your eyes widen in alarm, your voice faltering. “Jimin, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, only grins mischievously before leaping into the pool with a joyful laugh, his golden tail flashing into existence as he hits the water.

“Jimin!” you hiss, leaning over the railing, your hands clutching his abandoned clothes. “Someone is going to see you!”

But Jimin only pops his head above the surface, his wet blonde hair plastered against his forehead, a cheeky glint in his eyes. The seals gather around him, chattering and circling like old friends. They nuzzle him playfully, their sleek bodies weaving through the water as though they’ve found one of their own.

He laughs—a sound so free and unguarded that it momentarily quiets your worry. He dives beneath the surface, the faint sunlight catching the shimmering scales of his tail as he glides effortlessly from one end of the pool to the other. The seals follow, mirroring his playful energy, leaping, spinning, and splashing around him. It’s as if the world has turned into a living watercolor, the water glittering in shades of gold and sapphire under the afternoon sun.

You watch, caught between panic and awe. Jimin looks so at home in the water, so alive. The grin on his face is radiant, brighter than you’ve ever seen it, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

Finally, when his energy wanes, Jimin pulls himself up onto the platform in the center of the pool. His golden tail glimmers briefly before vanishing, leaving him human again. You rush forward, his clothes clutched tightly in your hands, the edges of your worry returning.

“Here,” you whisper urgently, holding the bundle out to him. He dresses quickly, the playful grin still lingering on his lips as you hover, scanning the area nervously.

“Someone could have seen you,” you scold gently, your voice low but firm as you glance around to ensure the coast is clear.

“But no one did,” he says, his voice brimming with unrepentant glee. “And I’ve never swum with seals before. It was amazing!”

His smile is infectious—big and bright and full of a joy that feels like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Despite yourself, you let out a breath of laughter, shaking your head.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though the corners of your lips betray you with the faintest hint of a smile.

Jimin only chuckles, his gaze soft as he looks at you. “You should try it sometime,” he says, his tone playful but sincere. “You’d love it.”

The seals bob in the water behind him, their curious eyes following his every move, and you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

You huff softly, the sound tinged with reluctant amusement, before grabbing his hand and tugging him back inside. Together, you explore every pool, tank, and glowing monitor, each filled with vibrant tales of the underwater world. Time slips through your fingers like grains of sand as you wander, sharing smiles, laughter, and awe over the secrets of the sea.

When the day finally gives way to night, the two of you make your way toward the beach, the cool evening air laced with the scent of salt and the soft murmur of waves. The moon, a luminous pearl in the sky, casts its silver light across the water, while the stars sparkle like scattered diamonds above.

You hold his hand a little tighter, reluctant to let go, your footsteps slow and lingering as you near the shore. The rhythm of the ocean mirrors the quiet thrum of your heart.

“Today was really fun,” you murmur, your smile soft and genuine, your eyes shimmering under the moonlight.

Jimin gazes at you, warmth spreading across his chest. “It was. Thank you for sharing it with me,” he replies, his voice gentle, the sincerity in it as deep as the ocean he calls home.

“And thank you for all the extra details I never would’ve known,” you chuckle, squeezing his hand lightly. “You made it even better.”

He pauses, hope glimmering in his eyes as he asks, “Can we do it again sometime?” His voice is quiet, like a wish spoken to the wind, but his expression holds the weight of his yearning.

Your face brightens, a joyful laugh escaping your lips. “Yeah. I’d love that,” you answer, and the simple promise sends a warmth rippling through him.

For a moment, the world feels infinite—just the two of you beneath the starlit sky, the waves singing softly in the background. Jimin can’t help but think how much lighter he feels in your company, like the pull of the tides no longer weighs him down.

Boldly, he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a kiss against your skin, his touch reverent, his gaze lingering. You let out a small, melodic giggle, and the sound feels like sunlight breaking through the night.

With a smile that’s both tender and bittersweet, Jimin takes a step back. “Goodnight,” he whispers, his voice like the whisper of waves upon the shore.

Then, as if the ocean itself is calling him home, he sheds his clothes and steps into the cool embrace of the water. His golden tail flashes in the moonlight before he dives beneath the surface, becoming one with the deep blue expanse.

You stand there for a moment longer, the sea breeze tousling your hair, your heart warm despite the night’s chill. Above you, the stars seem to shine a little brighter, as though echoing the promise of another day, another adventure, together.

“Can I talk to you?” Riley’s voice cuts through the ambient hum of the trawler, low and serious. The weight in his tone drags at your thoughts like an anchor, and a heavy sense of foreboding blooms in your chest. It’s been days since you last had peace, days since the ocean felt like a friend and not a prison.

“Yeah?” you manage, trying to keep your voice steady, though your stomach twists like a knotted rope.

“Come to my room in five minutes,” he says curtly, his words sharp and clipped. He turns on his heel before you can respond, leaving you alone with the pounding of your pulse and a growing sense of unease.

The minutes crawl, each one heavier than the last, and yet curiosity tugs at you as strongly as dread. You follow the path to his room, the confined corridors of the ship feeling tighter with each step. When you enter, you find him waiting—arms crossed, his frame rigid, his expression unreadable but intense.

“What is this about?” you ask, though your voice wavers, your throat tightening as the walls seem to press closer around you.

“I saw you,” Riley says, the words sharp and deliberate, laden with something that feels more like a trap than an explanation.

“Saw me?” you repeat, your confusion laced with a thread of panic.

“With the merman,” he declares, his lips curling into a wicked smile that makes your blood run cold. The way he says it—like he’s just unearthed treasure or a weapon—sends a shiver down your spine.

Your breath catches. Ice floods your veins as your eyes go wide. You know, with unshakable certainty, that this is bad—very, very bad.

“I saw him—your little merman—at the aquarium,” Riley sneers, his voice a venomous whisper that slithers through the room. He pulls out his phone with a flourish, the screen lighting up to show a video. Jimin, bare and vulnerable, diving gracefully into the seal pool, his golden tail shimmering like sunlight dancing on the waves. He’s laughing, carefree, playing with the seals. It’s beautiful—and damning. Your stomach drops like an anchor.

“I’ve got a neat little video right here,” Riley continues smugly, shoving the screen closer to your face, his words dripping with malice.

Your heart sinks, the weight of dread pressing down on your chest—until it’s eclipsed by a sudden, white-hot fury.

“You followed us?” you snap, your voice cutting through the air like a whip. “Are you stalking me?”

Riley doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t deny it. He just keeps playing the video, his grin as sharp as broken glass. “I’m going to send this to every news outlet,” he says, his tone oozing malice. “Expose your little fish boy for what he is.”

Rage boils inside you, threatening to erupt. God, you hate him. Hate that you ever let him close enough to your life, close enough to know you. Four years since you’d broken up, and yet he lingers like a storm cloud, his presence heavy, suffocating, and vile.

Without thinking, your hand darts out, snatching the phone from his grasp. Your fingers move with precision, deleting the video in seconds. You shove the phone back into his chest, glaring daggers.

“I’ve got backups,” he sneers, his voice sickly sweet, like poison laced with honey.

Your vision tunnels. Fury burns brighter, hotter, until it takes over, your voice a low, dangerous growl. “If you so much as breathe that video to anyone—hell, even your mother—I swear to God, I’ll cut off your dick with a fishing wire.”

Your hand clenches into a fist, trembling at your side as you glare at him. His smugness falters for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. You don’t give him a chance to respond.

You step closer, the gap between you closing in an instant. Your hand drops to his groin, your grip ruthless and unyielding. He yelps, his smirk shattering into something closer to panic. Your voice is a venomous whisper as you lean in, your eyes locked on his.

“I’m not afraid to use force. And you know I’ll do it.” Your grip tightens, his breath hitches, and you feel your anger seeping into every word. “Stop being a pathetic, jealous little fuck who follows me around like a lovesick puppy. We’re not together, Riley. We never will be. Dating you was the dumbest mistake of my life.”

You release him with a shove, and he stumbles back, the air between you thick with tension. Every nerve in your body is alight with fury, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of showing any more. Instead, you don’t look back as you storm off, your footsteps heavy against the wooden floorboards, your breath shallow and sharp. The sea air greets you outside, but even its salty balm can’t soothe the fiery knot in your chest. You hate him. You hate the fact that you’re trapped on this godforsaken trawler with him for two more endless days, the horizon a prison of water. The thought of jumping ship flickers through your mind—a tempting escape—but the anchor of practicality holds you steady, bitterly tethered to this floating hell.

When the morning sun rises, painting the waves in gold, Jimin surfaces beside the boat, his arrival like a breath of fresh air. His golden hair gleams in the light, and when he spots you, his eyes soften with concern. You crouch by the edge, confiding in him the storm Riley brewed the night before. You tell him how you’ve been scouring job boards, eager to chart a new course in life, and how you’ve managed to secure an interview when you return to land.

Jimin listens intently, his tail glimmering beneath the water as he leans closer, the faint scent of the sea clinging to him. “I’m happy for you,” he says, his voice gentle but resolute. “Not about Riley, but about the job. You deserve to find something better.”

You smile softly. “I’ll handle Riley. I always do.”

Two nights later, under a canopy of stars and the watchful gaze of the moon, you meet Jimin by the beach. The waves kiss the shore in gentle whispers as you kick off your shoes and settle into the cool sand, the world feeling softer here, freer. Jimin lingers in the water, his tail flicking languidly beneath the surface, the golden scales catching the moonlight like shards of starlight scattered across the ocean.

“I’ve got good news,” you say, unable to suppress the smile that spreads across your face, warm and radiant.

“Oh?” His eyes brighten with curiosity, his tail swishing with anticipation.

“I got a new job,” you announce, pride coloring your voice.

His grin matches yours, wide and full of delight, as his tail flicks with an excited splash. “That’s amazing! What is it?”

“At the aquarium!” you beam, your excitement spilling out like the tide.

“That’s perfect for you,” he says, his delight as luminous as the moonlight on the water. His tail wiggles with unrestrained joy, sending ripples across the ocean’s surface.

You nod, your heart full. “It really is. No more trawlers, no more Riley.” The mention of his name makes your expression harden for a moment, but it passes quickly. “I reported him to the police and got a restraining order.”

Jimin’s gaze sharpens briefly, but he nods in approval, his protective instincts tempered by the knowledge that you can handle yourself.

“And now,” you add, your smile returning, “you can come visit me there. We can hang out at the aquarium—or here at the beach. Wherever you like.”

He chuckles softly, the sound rich and warm like waves lapping against the shore. “I think I’d like that,” he says, his eyes reflecting the stars as he looks at you.

For a moment, the world feels perfect, the night serene and endless. The future, once shrouded in uncertainty, glimmers with possibilities as vast as the ocean itself.

The past two months with Jimin have felt like a dream spun from sea foam and starlight. Every date has been a treasure, each moment with him brimming with charm and sweetness that leaves you glowing for hours afterward. He took you to meet his friends, and you remember that day because it was filled with so much laughter your stomach hurt. Or that time he took you snorkeling still lingers vividly in your mind—the feel of his hand warm in yours as you glided through the cool water, the sunlight rippling across the ocean floor, revealing patches of vibrant plants and curious little fish. His laughter, soft and soothing, danced through the water, carrying with it a joy you’ve never known before.

Tonight is another of those magical nights. Jimin insisted on coming to your place alone this time, so you’ve been pacing slightly, anticipation coiling in your chest like the rising tide. When a knock finally echoes through your apartment, your heart leaps.

Opening the door, you’re greeted by the sight of Jimin in a simple gray t-shirt and black sweatpants—nothing flashy, yet somehow, he looks devastatingly perfect. His soft smile lights up the hallway, and your knees weaken beneath its warmth. He’s holding something in his hands, and as he steps forward, he reveals it—a beautiful seashell, its surface polished smooth by the tides and dappled with shades of ivory and blush.

“This is for you,” he says, his voice soft yet earnest, his cheeks dusted with a bashful pink as he extends the shell toward you.

“For me?” you ask, cradling it gently in your palms as though it were the most delicate treasure. You run your fingers over its grooves, marveling at its beauty.

“I found it when I was with my friend Taehyung on one of his treasure hunts,” Jimin explains, glancing down shyly. “It reminded me of you.”

Your heart swells, full to bursting with affection. Without a second thought, you step forward, wrapping your arms around him. His scent—clean, with a faint trace of salt and something uniquely Jimin—wraps around you as you press a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you so much, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I love it.” You guide him inside, carefully placing the seashell in a special spot on your display cabinet. The cabinet gleams under the soft light, filled with your collection of oceanic treasures, and now this—this piece that feels more precious than all the others combined.

“Come in, sit down,” you say, turning back to him with a bright smile. “I’ve made dinner.”

You gesture toward the sofa, where the table is already set, the aroma of the food filling the room with warmth and comfort. Jimin follows your lead, his eyes softening as he watches you, and you can’t help but think that tonight is just another reminder that sometimes, life’s greatest treasures aren’t found in the depths of the ocean—but in the small, quiet moments shared with someone you love.

He settles onto the sofa, and the two of you begin to eat, the soft glow of the television bathing the room in flickering hues. A documentary on the ocean plays, its serene narration filling the air. But it’s Jimin’s quiet interjections that captivate you most—he leans closer, offering rich, vivid details about the creatures on screen, things the narrator doesn’t know, weaving a story of his own. His voice is soft yet full of life, making you smile between bites.

When the documentary ends, you find yourselves drawing closer, as if by an invisible thread pulling you together. His warmth envelops you, steady and calming, and the rhythmic beat of his heart becomes a lullaby against your senses.

His gaze meets yours, deep and earnest, the kind that seems to hold unspoken worlds within. “I’m really grateful to have met you, you know?” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere, carrying the weight of emotion unhidden.

You hum in response, your fingers brushing over his hand, a small but comforting gesture.

“I used to think humans were… bad,” he admits, his words tinged with vulnerability. “But you’ve only shown me kindness. You’re so nice, so sweet, and I…” His other hand reaches up, tenderly combing through your hair, his fingers a soothing presence.

You’re sitting in his lap now, his arms wrapping around you in a cocoon of comfort. His frame surrounds you, a perfect shield against the world. “All this time we’ve spent together,” he continues, his voice softening like the tide pulling back, “it’s only made me realize how much I like you.”

You feel the curve of his smile against your temple, a quiet and unspoken joy radiating from him.

“Well, I like you too, Jimin,” you say, your voice a gentle melody as you nuzzle deeper into his embrace. His hold on you tightens, protective yet tender, and he leans down to press a delicate kiss to your temple.

“I want to do something for you,” he murmurs, his voice brushing against your skin like a warm breeze. “Repay the favor, or… something.”

You shake your head softly, a smile spreading across your lips. “You’ve done plenty, Jimin. You don’t have to do anything more than simply be here.” Your words are quiet but firm, carrying the truth of how much his presence alone means to you.

He hums in thought, the sound resonant and deep, as though he’s weighing something in his mind. “Can I…” he starts, but hesitates, biting his bottom lip as uncertainty flickers in his expression.

Your gaze tilts up to meet his. “What is it?” you ask, chuckling lightly, your voice teasing and warm. “What’s on your mind?”

His eyes drop for a moment before returning to yours, nervous yet earnest. “I was wondering if I could touch you?” His voice is almost a whisper, laced with vulnerability, his cheeks faintly tinged with pink.

“You are touching me,” you reply, playful but soft, a knowing smile curving your lips. Still, there’s a glimmer in your eyes, a gentle understanding of the deeper meaning behind his words.

“That’s not what I mean,” he murmurs, his voice low and slightly strained, as if he’s holding something back. He exhales, a hint of frustration slipping through as his lips hover near your ear. “I want to have… you,” he finally admits, his tone steady, yet laced with yearning.

You can’t help but chuckle, the sound soft and inviting, as your body instinctively shifts against him. His hardening cock behind you responds immediately, pressing into your back. Turning your head slightly, you meet his gaze with a mischievous smile. “I want you too, Jimin,” you whisper, your voice dripping with warmth. “You can touch me.”

Your words barely leave your lips before you press them to his, drawing him into a kiss that’s tender yet electric. His lips part, and the moment deepens—a dance of warmth and hunger. Your moans, soft and unrestrained, spill into his mouth, and he swallows each sound as if it were a secret meant only for him.

His hand trails downward, slow and deliberate, the pads of his fingers grazing your bare thigh before finding the waistband of your shorts. With a deft motion, his hand slips beneath the fabric, venturing under the delicate lace of your panties. His touch sends a shiver cascading through you, and you exhale sharply, arching your back into him as anticipation coils tight in your belly.

When his fingers find the sensitive bud of your clit, already slick with arousal, your breath hitches. He moves carefully at first, testing, his touch featherlight. His lips graze your cheek as he whispers into your ear, “Like this?” His voice is low, smoky, and devastatingly intimate.

“Yes—” The word escapes you on a shaky breath, your hips shifting to meet his hand as his fingers begin their deliberate, intoxicating rhythm. He circles your clit with just the right pressure, each motion igniting sparks of pleasure that radiate through you.

His lips find your ear, teasing it with gentle nibbles, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. “You’re amazing,” he murmurs, his voice dipping into a groan as he feels you respond to his touch, your body soft and pliant against his.

As his other hand joins in the exploration, it trails lower, fingers slipping between your folds. You’re soaked now, your arousal coating his fingers as they explore your entrance. One finger slides in, slow and deliberate, sending a gasp tumbling from your lips.

“Ahh—” Your breath catches, and your words come out in a broken plea. “You can add another finger.”

He obliges, his movements careful, his second finger pressing in to join the first. He curls them inside you with precision, brushing against that soft, perfect spot that has your back arching and your voice spilling over in desperate cries of his name.

The heat between you intensifies as you grind back into him, feeling the hard length of him against you, evidence of his own growing need. He moans your name into your ear, his voice a heady mix of reverence and desire, the sound sending a rush of heat through your veins.

“You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice shaky, his control slipping as his fingers continue their exquisite work, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Your body trembles as the crest of your climax surges through you, a tidal wave of euphoria unleashed by his touch. When his fingers pinch your clit, it’s the final spark that ignites you, and your voice breaks in a desperate cry of his name. “Ah, Jimin!” you groan, your body thrashing in his arms as pleasure consumes you. Your walls pulse around his fingers, and he doesn’t stop, coaxing you through the high with ease, his voice a soothing hum of reassurance.

When the aftershocks make you hypersensitive, you shift off his lap, your chest heaving as you fight for air. The room feels electric, charged with the heat of your shared intimacy. Your hands tremble slightly as you strip away your shorts and panties, baring yourself fully to him. “I need you,” you murmur, voice breathless but determined. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, his pupils blown with lust, dark as the midnight sea. His arousal is evident, straining against the fabric of his black sweatpants. When you tug them down, revealing his dick—he’s bare beneath them, as always—you bite your lip at the sight. It’s a fact that never fails to make your pulse race.

“You’re never wearing underwear,” you whisper, your voice tinged with amusement and heat.

His cheeks flush, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond before your fingers wrap around him. He hisses through his teeth, his hips twitching forward as if drawn to your touch by magnetic force. “Your dick is so pretty,” you murmur, stroking him slowly, savoring the feel of him in your hand.

“T-thanks,” he chokes out, his voice a strained mix of pleasure and restraint. You smile softly, leaning forward to press your lips to his flushed tip, tasting the salt of him. His groan is low and guttural, a sound that vibrates through your core as you take him into your mouth.

You tease him with languid, deliberate movements, your lips sliding over his cock while your tongue flicks against the sensitive underside. His hands tangle in the fabric of the couch, his breath coming in sharp gasps as you explore him. But just as he begins to unravel, you pull away with a soft, wet pop, leaving him trembling beneath you.

“Maybe I’ll give you a proper taste another time,” you tease, your voice thick with desire. “Right now, I need you to fuck me.”

Jimin’s head falls back, and he releases a shaky laugh, his hands flexing at his sides as though grounding himself. “Yeah, sounds good,” he stammers, his voice hoarse with want.

You climb onto his lap, your knees pressing into the soft cushion on either side of his powerful thighs. Your hand wraps around his dick, guiding him to your entrance, and you sink down slowly, inch by inch. The stretch is delicious, a sensation that has you throwing your head back with a moan. “God, Jimin,” you breathe, your fingers clutching his shoulders as you take him fully inside you.

He groans, deep and guttural, his head tipping forward to rest against your collarbone. “So tight,” he pants, his grip firm on your hips, as though anchoring himself in the moment.

You chuckle softly, rolling your hips experimentally, savoring the way he fills you. “It’s good, isn’t it?” you murmur, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Better than good,” he grunts, his voice rough as the sea during a storm. His hands guide you, encouraging your movements as you begin to ride him, your bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as the tides.

A playful smile curls your lips as you lean closer, your voice light with mischief. “Better than merfolk sex?”

His laughter is strained but genuine, a sound that melts into a groan as your pace quickens. “It’s… different,” he manages, his words punctuated by the hitch in his breath.

You lean forward, brushing your lips against his as your movements slow, rolling your hips languidly to draw out every sensation. “Good different?” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the sound of your ragged breathing.

His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Perfect,” he murmurs against your lips, and in that moment, you know he means it. It sends shivers down your spine as you pick up the pace. You ride him with a ferocity that leaves no room for restraint, your body taking what it craves as his dick fills you perfectly, over and over again.

Jimin’s head falls back, his golden hair cascading around his face like a halo, shimmering even in the dim light. His beauty is almost otherworldly, but it’s the raw humanity of his reactions—his moans, his gasps, the way his lips part in ecstasy—that makes your heart race even faster.

Your hands grip his shoulders for support, and you lean in to kiss him, pouring every ounce of your desire into the connection. Your lips crash together, tongues tangling, and the sound of your shared groans fills the air like a symphony. When his hips begin to rise and meet yours, thrusting into you with a powerful rhythm, you cry out.

“There!” you scream, your voice trembling with bliss as he strikes that perfect spot deep inside you, sending your mind spiraling into chaos.

He laughs breathlessly against your lips, his tone tinged with mischief and triumph. His fingers grip your hips firmly, his touch possessive as though anchoring you to him. He kisses you again, slower this time, his lips devouring yours with unspoken promises.

“I want to have merfolk sex with you too,” you pant, the words spilling from you unbidden as your eyes lock onto his, searching for… something. Something intangible, something only he can give you.

Jimin’s breath hitches, his smile faint but wicked. “Later,” he murmurs, his voice strained yet teasing. “Right now, I just want to feel this.”

You groan, your chest pressing against his as his hips surge upward, faster and harder, the rhythm pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck,” you gasp, feeling the heat coil tight and hot in your core. “I’m going to come again soon.”

His response is a low, broken moan, his lips brushing against your ear. “Yeah?”

Instead of answering, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, your lips finding the tender skin there. You kiss him softly, your teeth grazing just enough to make him gasp, and when he mirrors your actions, nibbling at your neck, goosebumps ripple across your skin.

Your breath catches, your body shuddering as his thrusts grow rougher, deeper, each one stoking the fire inside you until it finally erupts. “Jimin…,” you cry out, his name a prayer on your lips as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You collapse against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you tremble through the aftershocks, your walls squeezing him tight.

“Shit,” he rasps, his voice cracking as he feels the way you pulse around him. “I didn’t think it could get tighter. Fuck.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound breathy and light, which only makes him groan louder, his hips faltering. His need is palpable, every thrust a desperate chase toward his own release.

“God, it feels so good,” he pants, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“It does,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his neck. Your fingers thread through his hair as you murmur in his ear, “Now come inside me. Fill me up.”

Your hips move together in a rhythm that feels almost sacred, each motion drawing you closer, tethering you in a shared moment of bliss. Jimin throws his head back, his golden hair glistening with a faint sheen of sweat as he gasps your name, the sound reverberating like music in your ears. His body shudders beneath yours, his release spilling into you as his breaths come in ragged pants.

“Holy—,” he starts, his voice cracking with the remnants of his climax, but you smile, running your fingers through his tousled locks, grounding him.

“It was amazing,” you finish softly, leaning in to kiss him. The kiss is languid, unhurried, your lips brushing his with the tenderness of someone who knows this moment will linger in your memory forever.

You remain still, savoring the aftershocks coursing through both your bodies, the quiet intimacy of him still buried within you. His cock twitches faintly, and you giggle as you feel the first trickles of his release slipping out of you, warm and unhurried, down to his thighs.

“Maybe we should clean up,” you say, a playful lilt in your voice.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, his laughter soft and warm, “it’s definitely sticky.”

“Come take a bath with me,” you suggest, sliding off him with care, your fingers intertwining with his as you pull him to his feet. Together, you make your way to the bathroom, your giggles echoing in the quiet space as you both use tissues to clean up.

The bathwater fills the tub in a cascade of steam and heat, and when it’s ready, you shed the last remnants of your clothing, stepping in with Jimin close behind. The water embraces you like a warm cocoon, and as you settle down, Jimin takes his place behind you, his sturdy thighs cradling you as they had on the couch. His hands move to your hair, working in gentle strokes as he massages your scalp, letting the warm water cascade over your skin.

“This is nice,” you murmur, your head tilting back to rest against his chest.

“It is,” he agrees, though there’s a soft chuckle in his voice. “But I’ll probably shift into my merman form soon.”

You smile, turning your head just enough to press a kiss to his bicep. “I love when you’re a merman.”

He beams at your words, and with a shimmer of light, golden sparkles dance around him like fireflies, transforming his legs into a resplendent golden tail. The fins spill over the edge of the tub, their iridescent sheen catching the bathroom light, making the moment feel dreamlike.

You shift slightly, giving him more space as the water ripples around his transformation. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close again, his tail flexing gently beneath the surface.

“Do you… maybe,” he begins, his voice tentative, but there’s an almost boyish eagerness in his tone that makes you smile.

“Just say it, Jimin,” you tease softly, leaning further into his embrace.

He laughs, his breath warm against your temple as he gathers his courage to speak.

“Do you want to date me? Become my mate?” Jimin’s voice carries a quiet hope, his brown caramel eyes searching yours as if the entire ocean hinges on your answer.

“Like a girlfriend? Like a relationship?” you ask, tilting your head, your gaze diving into the endless warmth of his eyes.

He bites his lip, hesitating for a moment before his words tumble out. “Yeah. It’s a relationship, but being mates is more than that. It’s a promise—a bond for life. At least, that’s what it means for merfolk.” He pauses, his voice softening. “But we can take it slow if you want to.”

A chuckle escapes your lips as you nuzzle your head into his chest, the steady thrum of his heart grounding you. “I want to be your mate,” you whisper, the truth of it blooming in your chest like a sunrise over the waves.

Relief floods his face as he kisses your forehead, his golden tail flicking above the water with a ripple that catches the light. It’s such a simple motion, yet it sends your heart fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.

You sit there for a while, submerged in the warmth of the water and the closeness of him. His lips find yours, soft and sweet, and your hands wander—tracing the smooth scales of his tail and the hard planes of his chest. Time seems to dissolve, lost in the salty scent of him, the ocean a mere echo in the distance.

Then, like a sudden wave crashing on the shore, a thought surfaces in your mind. “Do you maybe want to help me with a work thing?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hopeful excitement.

He chuckles, his lips quirking in that way that makes your stomach flip. “What is it?”

“Well…” you begin, unable to keep the grin off your face. “I’m hosting this merfolk event at the aquarium for kids. I’ve got this mermaid costume and everything, but I thought… maybe you could show up as a merman in the big pool? We could dive and swim together—give the kids a show they’ll never forget. Obviously, I’ll tell them you’re wearing a costume too,” you add quickly, your cheeks warming at the thought of how much you want this—not just for the kids, but for yourself.

Jimin blinks at you for a moment before his face lights up with a smile as dazzling as the sunlight on the waves. “Sure,” he says, his voice warm. “I’d love to.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in another kiss, deeper this time, and it’s then that you realize you don’t think you’ll ever get enough of him. Not his salty scent, not his plush, addictive lips, and certainly not the way he makes your heart feel like it’s swimming in its own current of joy.

The day of the merfolk event has finally arrived, and the aquarium is alive with an energy you’ve never felt before. Laughter and whispers of anticipation fill the air as kids clutch their parents’ hands, eyes wide with wonder. The normally tranquil space is transformed into a shimmering underwater dreamscape. Seashells and trailing strands of faux kelp adorn every corner, while cardboard cutouts of merfolk in a spectrum of skin tones stand as guardians of the magic. Soft, ethereal music hums overhead, making the air feel thicker, as if you’ve already slipped beneath the waves.

Backstage, near the pool you adore, you wrestle with the fabric tail of your mermaid costume, trying to coax it into place. It’s always been your favorite spot in the aquarium—the big pool where the water gleams like liquid sapphire, reflecting the ceiling’s soft lights.

You’re muttering to yourself when Jimin appears, his presence as effortless as a tide rolling in. His golden hair is swept back, and his smile—wide and warm—makes your heart skip.

“Oh, hi, babe,” you say, flashing him a quick grin as you tug futilely at the tail.

“Hi, babe,” he mimics with a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your predicament.

“You don’t have to put that on,” he says, stepping closer with a glint of mischief. “I have something better for you.”

From behind his back, he reveals a bundle of something strange yet mesmerizing—a ribbon of kelp, but unlike any you’ve seen. Its tendrils shimmer with an otherworldly glow, the orange hue reminiscent of a sunset bleeding into the horizon.

“What is it?” you ask, reaching out to touch it.

“This,” he says, his fingers brushing yours as he places it in your hands, “is Merwhisper Kelp. It lets humans become merfolk for one hour.” His voice is soft, filled with excitement and affection. “I thought you might like to swim with me today as a real mermaid. Make it… special.”

The idea leaves you breathless, your thoughts spinning as you meet his gaze. “Special how?” you tease, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “We could show them a merfolk mating ritual.”

Your cheeks flush crimson as your jaw drops. “Like… having sex in front of the kids?!”

He bursts out laughing, the sound rich and musical, shaking his head. “No, no, no. It’s not like human sex, I promise,” he explains, his voice steady despite his amusement. “There’s nothing explicit about it—it’s more like a dance. A connection. Trust me, it’ll be beautiful.”

The sincerity in his eyes melts away your embarrassment, replacing it with intrigue. “You’ll guide me?” you ask softly, your fingers tightening around the kelp.

“Always,” he says, his smile gentle as the tide.

Your heart stirs, and with a nod, you release the fabric tail you’d been fighting with. “Okay. That sounds… amazing.”

He leans in then, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that feels like a promise, warm and lingering.

“I’ll head out first and start the show,” you say, your voice lighter now, a mix of nerves and excitement. Grabbing a robe to cover yourself, you glance back at him, your smile mirrored in his golden gaze. “Wait for me, yeah?”

“Always,” he says again, his voice steady and sure, as you step out toward the glowing auditorium.

You stand before the vast, crystalline pool, its surface shimmering under the soft glow of the aquarium lights, and the crowd of children before you vibrates with barely-contained energy. Their laughter bubbles up like champagne, effervescent and infectious, as their wide eyes focus on you with wonder.

“Hi, everyone!” you begin, your voice bright and warm, your hands clasped over your heart. “Are you excited to be here today?”

A chorus of giggles and shouts fills the room, their enthusiasm washing over you like a wave.

“That’s wonderful! Today, I have something very special to share with you,” you continue, leaning in as if confiding a grand secret. “Today, I’m asking you to believe in magic and fantasy—to let your imaginations take you somewhere extraordinary.” Your eyes sparkle as you gesture toward the pool.

“My boyfriend and I are going to show you how merfolk swim and dance underwater,” you announce with a grin, watching their faces light up in awe. “We’re going to wear costumes, of course,” you add with a playful wink, “but I want you to imagine it’s all real. Because, really, anything is possible if you can dream it. Right?”

The children nod eagerly, their cheers like tiny waves crashing onshore.

“Oh, and let me introduce someone special,” you say, gesturing toward your coworker. “This is Simon, and he’s going to narrate everything while I’m underwater!” Simon gives a mock bow, earning a ripple of applause and laughter.

With a final smile and wave, you step backstage, your heart racing, where you find Jimin waiting for you. His soft smile is a beacon of reassurance, grounding you as excitement tingles through your veins.

“You’re really about to make my dreams come true, you know that, right?” you say, your words spilling out in a giddy laugh as you reach for the Merwhisper Kelp in his hands.

“That was the whole point,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as he leans in to kiss you, soft and lingering.

As the kelp touches your tongue, an electric sensation ripples through your body. Your legs feel strange—like they’re dissolving and reforming all at once. Sparkles erupt in a dazzling cascade around you, and a gasp escapes your lips as you collapse gently to the ground.

You gape in amazement at the transformation. A shimmering silver tail, adorned with translucent scales that catch the light like diamonds, extends where your legs used to be. Your torso is now clad in a delicate seashell bra that feels as though it was crafted from the ocean itself.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice filled with wonder as you trail your fingers over the scales. The tail feels strange yet beautiful—foreign and familiar all at once.

Jimin kneels beside you, his golden eyes alight with admiration. “You look stunning as a mermaid too,” he says softly, his hand brushing over yours. “Now, go on. Jump into the water—I’ll be right behind you.”

You nod, still breathless with awe, and begin sliding toward the edge of the pool. The smooth tiles give way to the cool embrace of the water as your tail dips in, sending a shiver of delight up your spine. Tentatively, you let yourself slide further, the pool enveloping you.

The moment your body is fully immersed, it’s as if the world has shifted. You float effortlessly, your tail moving with a fluid grace you never imagined. Tiny bubbles rise to the surface, carrying your laughter with them. The water cradles you, weightless and serene, and you can’t help but giggle at the pure magic of it all.

Words fail you—this feeling is beyond description, an ethereal blend of joy and wonder. You glance up, and through the rippling surface, Jimin smiles down at you. In this moment, the world feels limitless, and magic is not just something you believe in—it’s something you live.

You feel the warmth of a hand at the small of your back, where the delicate curve of your skin meets the smoothness of your shimmering scales. Jimin glides up beside you, his smile a radiant beacon in the water. Without hesitation, you swim into him, pressing your lips to his in a quick, electrifying kiss before gliding forward, emerging into view for the children to see.

Your heart swells—so full of love, it almost feels as though it could burst from your chest. You reach for his hand, and the connection between you is a thread of pure joy, binding your hearts together with unspoken promises. Together, you swim effortlessly beside the swaying kelp, darting through rocky formations, surrounded by the shimmering world of the deep, until you come to the massive glass wall that separates you from the fascinated eyes of the children.

As you break through the surface, the children’s gasps of awe and delight fill the air, their faces alight with wonder. You wave, your heart fluttering as Simon spins tales of merfolk—stories gifted to him by Jimin himself.

Turning toward Jimin, your gaze finds him, and the world around you seems to melt away. His eyes, soft and deep, hold your universe within them, a world built on love and unspoken understanding. He reaches for both your hands, lifting them in front of your faces as he gently presses his body against yours. His chest against yours feels like coming home.

With a slow, tender movement, he begins to spin you in the water, guiding you in a dance as old as time. You laugh, the sound bubbling through the water, as your tails entwine in fluid harmony. His kiss comes then—deep, slow, full of longing—as if he’s been waiting for this moment all his life. In the embrace of his lips, you feel like everything has led to this. Like you were born to dance like this, to love like this. It’s as if two worlds—yours and his—are colliding, fusing together in one seamless, breathtaking whole.

This is what merfolk love must be—this swirling connection, this surrender to the current of passion and tenderness. The kiss deepens, the world slipping away into a blissful haze, and for a moment, you can’t hear the laughter of the children. All that matters is this—a love so pure, so magical, it transcends everything. The only thing that exists in this moment is Jimin, the love you share, and the extraordinary gift he’s given you.

The world is perfect here, in the waters where love flows as effortlessly as the ocean itself. And you are exactly where you belong, with him.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle

→ Series taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @bangtannie7 @suker4angst @women-kisseer @13-manggaetteok

→ Author’s endnote: waaaah 🤧 Personally, I think this one turned out so much better than Tae’s (not that I don’t think that was good!) but I guess it’s just a lot easier for me to write Jimin? Anyway. What do you guys think of this one? Are you still excited for the last two? ✨💜

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shomatoriashi · 2 days ago

Text

11/20/24; 08:30pm

{ drabble | comfort fic }

itoshi rin x fem.reader

itoshi rin hated seeing you cry…

he hated the way your lips seemed to tremble as those crystalline droplets would form against those expressive eyes.

he hated the sounds of your choked sobs that echoed throughout the room, seeming to further accentuate your despair and how helpless it made him feel.

but most of all, he hated the loss of your smile.

your smile was what kept the almost obsessive soccer player from breaking down, giving rin the strength to move forward despite the many trials and tribulations he has faced in his life. your sunny personality was enough to light up even his darkest moments in life-

so to hear your broken sobs past the locked door of your shared bedroom-

the sound was physically hurting him, making his heart clench as he found it was getting harder to breathe. your pain resonated deeply with him-

and rin was willing to do anything to get you out of such a slump.

with his lips pursed, he rests his forehead against the cool surface of the door, jostling the knob to find it impossible to budge due to how you had kept it locked. he says your name, failing miserably to conceal the concern in his voice.

“open the door.” rin attempts to keep his voice even all while knocking at the door with his fist clenched. when your soft sobs were all he could hear in response, rin was filled with desperation to reach you.

“come on, open up. w-we…we can talk about it. you don’t have to go through this alone- not when i’m here.”

silence was all rin could hear, and he was ready to kick down this damn door had it not been for the shuffling sounds heard coming from inside the room. a mere few seconds later, rin heard the sound of something clicking before being greeted with the sight of your bloodshot eyes and cheeks that still remained stained and damp with your tears.

he says nothing, allowing your body to fall naturally within his embrace. holding you tightly against his chest, he allows your tears to soak into the fabric of his shirt all while rubbing comforting circles behind your back. no words were spoken, but rin became achingly aware of how your arms tighten around his back, visibly relaxing while in his embrace as you hid your face while within his chest.

“thank you.” your voice was raspy, yet still, you cling to him all the same. letting out a hum of your name, rin continues to hold you tight, swaying your body back and forth in hopes of further soothing you.

a few beats later, you manage to remove your face from his chest, showing him the same smile he had grown to love oh so much. using the pad of his thumb to wipe away your tears while framing at your face, rin basks in the feeling of being your sole source of comfort.

end notes: i literally wrote this in 15 minutes as a form of self therapy for me. this is an unedited mess, but was truly written to help with conveying my feelings ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x you #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x y/n #rin itoshi x y/n #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader

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ak319 · 3 days ago

Note

Haii!, I really like your Arthur Morgan series and I've also read it several times and it's not boring at all!🫶🏻

Can I make a request? If so, can you make the reader jealous because Arthur is close to Mary Beth?🫶🏻 (Arthur and the reader's relationship is not platonic!)

(AN: Tsym! Remind me why we making Y/n suffer again? PS: I'm terrible at writing jealousy shit ngl and I legit dunno why. AND THATS LIT WHAT YALL KEPT ASKING FOR-😭☠) Hope yall enjoy reading lol)

Warnings/MDNI: None, just angst and then fluff to soothe your asses-

You were by the lake, lazily washing clothes. The day had you feeling sluggish, and the pleasant weather didn’t exactly help motivate you. The water was just the right temperature, cool enough to refresh but warm enough to keep you rooted in place. You should really pick up the pace, finish up, and grab some tea--or coffee--or a well-deserved break.

The faint hum of camp activity behind you was oddly comforting, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. That is until you heard footsteps crunching on the gravel, quick and impatient, followed by a sharp curse.

“Dammit! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you, girl.”

You glanced over your shoulder, grinning as Molly stormed up to you, her face a mix of exasperation and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“For God’s sake, Molly, you know my Tuesday routine by now,” you teased, tossing a wet shirt into the basket beside you. “It’s not like this camp is big enough to lose someone. Honestly, I think you’re just bad at looking.”

She didn’t laugh. Not even a crack of a smile. Instead, she stood there, arms crossed, her expression tight with barely-contained frustration. You paused mid-scrub, a curious eyebrow raised.

“What’s gotten into you? You look ready to murder someone.”

“Oh, sure,” she snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Leave it to ever-so-clueless (Y/N) to not notice a damn thing going on around her.” She gestured wildly toward the camp as though you were missing some grand spectacle.

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “What the hell are you on about?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she hesitated as if debating whether you were even worth the explanation. Then, with a dramatic huff, she took a step closer, glaring down at you like you’d personally wronged her.

“Let me spell it out for you. Do I even bother tellin’ you what’s happening? Or should I just assume it won’t make a difference because your ‘dearest cold heart’ won’t care? Or worse, you’ll just laugh it off like you always do!”

Your hands stilled in the water, the soap slipping through your fingers. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

"Y’know, what I just heard and saw?” Molly huffed, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. “Mr. Arthur Morgan, having a chat with Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth! That same snake who’s all over Dutch, and now, apparently, your man, (Y/N)!”

Her voice rose with each word, and you blinked, caught completely off guard. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge your reaction. “I swear to God, she was asking him to buy her another one of those silly romance books for her lovesick brain. I mean, why Arthur, huh? Why doesn’t she go pester Kieran’s ass instead?”

Hearing her rant, you stood up, gripping the damp shirt in your hands as you processed her words. “Wh--sounds like a friendly chat to me, Molly,” you said, trying to brush it off with a shrug. “I mean, Arthur brings stuff for everyone. He goes out the most, doesn’t he? And, well, Kieran… he’s not exactly allowed far from camp neither he can afford anything right now. They still don’t trust him, y’know. And Arthur, he’s like a brother to Mary-Beth-"

“Don’t even start with that ‘brother’ shit, (Y/N),” Molly snapped, cutting you off. “It's just a facade.”

Your mouth fell open, heat rushing to your face at the implication. Uncertainty clawed at your chest as you tried to stammer a response, but she wasn’t done. Molly’s jealousy toward Mary Beth only seemed to fuel her fire, her words coming quicker now, sharp and biting.

“And don’t act like it couldn’t happen. You think she doesn’t see how kind he is to you? How he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching? Oh, she sees it. And she’d snatch him up the moment she gets the chance.”

You clenched your jaw, her words making you shift uncomfortably. Sure, you trusted Arthur, but the venom in Molly’s tone, the way her words seemed to twist around your insecurities, left you feeling just the slightest bit unsteady.

"Did he even say goodbye to you before he sprang into action?” Molly pressed, her voice softer now, almost pitying. “And the other day, weren’t you telling me you needed some cream for your hands? You even told him, and look, just look at your hands.”

Her gaze dropped to your chapped and reddened fingers, and you instinctively tried to wipe them dry on your skirt, as if that would somehow make them better. Her words were digging deeper now, clawing at something vulnerable in you. Did he forget to bring it? Or worse, did he not care enough to remember? Had your wishes, his woman’s wishes, stopped mattering to him altogether?

“This is bullshit, you should have run away with that pen pal of yours, to be honest when you had the chance,” Molly muttered, crossing her arms. “You didn’t listen to me when I told you she’s after Dutch. And now she’s after both! I swear, those books she reads must be teaching her these tactics. Manipulative little-"

“I--y’know what?” you cut her off, your voice suddenly firm as your gaze drifted to the camp, your eyes narrowing.

“What?” Molly asked, surprised by your sudden shift in tone.

“Let’s just go,” you said, your voice laced with resolve.

“Go where?”

“Town.”

Without waiting for her to argue, you kicked the bucket of soapy water, sending it tumbling into the river, the suds spilling out and disappearing downstream. The laundry lay abandoned on the grass as you turned and marched toward the stables, Molly following close behind.

Damn everyone, then.

❀˖°

Arthur returned to camp, expecting to find you in his tent as usual. But when he stepped inside, the familiar space felt oddly empty. A frown tugged at his lips.

"Hey... um, Sadie?" he called out, spotting her near the campfire. "You seen (Y/N)?"

Sadie glanced up from sharpening her knife. "Oh, yeah. She and Molly went to town."

"What?!" The word escaped him before he could stop it, his voice louder than he intended. Clearing his throat, he muttered a quick, “Thanks,” and walked back to his tent, feeling heat rise to his face. He slumped down onto his cot with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair.

You know how he felt about you going far from camp without him, even if you were with one of the girls. It wasn’t a matter of trust, it was fear.

And still you did.

There were too many dangers out there, too many things that could go wrong, and the thought of you out there without him stirred a storm in his chest.

It was 5 p.m., the time when you two usually sat together to talk about your day over supper. The time he looked forward to most whenever he was at camp. And now? He sat there, staring at the flap of his tent, the minutes ticking by painfully slow.

But what bothered him more was why you’d gone. And with Molly, of all people. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he didn’t have a problem with her, not really. But something about the way you two were together always set him on edge.

He’d told you how he felt about it once. About how Molly seemed to lean on you a little too much, how her sadness and drama sometimes seemed to pull you down with her. But of course, you’d defended her, saying you couldn’t just turn your back on your best friend. That Molly found her only comfort in your company.

And you were right. He knew you were. But that didn’t make it any easier to sit here, waiting, imagining where you were and what could happen.

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, his appetite gone. Instead of heading to the campfire for supper, he threw himself onto his cot, pulling his hat over his face in an attempt to block out the growing worry gnawing at his chest.

But even with his eyes closed, he couldn’t shake the unease. Images of you and Molly wandering through town, far from the safety of camp, flickered in his mind. He trusted you, of course, but the world out there? That was another story entirely.

“Damn woman never listens to me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with equal parts frustration and concern.

Sleep didn’t come easily, and even as he tried to rest, he knew one thing for certain, when you came back, this was a conversation he wasn’t going to let slide.

❀˖°

Arthur woke with a start, roused by Bill’s loud guffaw somewhere in the camp. With a groan, he rubbed his face, taking a moment to shake off the haze of sleep and piece together his scattered thoughts. Then it hit him, the memory of you leaving with Molly, and the worry twisted sharply in his chest again.

He pushed himself up with a sigh, his body stiff from the restless nap. Moving through camp, he glanced around, hoping, praying, to catch sight of you. But there was nothing. No sign of you or Molly.

He considered asking Dutch, but dismissed the thought just as quickly. Dutch would likely know even less than he did, and Arthur wasn’t in the mood for meaningless chatter.

Back at his tent, he sat on the edge of his cot, pulling out his journal in an attempt to distract himself. The flap of the tent was open, giving him a clear view of camp, but his eyes kept flickering toward it, waiting for you to appear.

His stomach growled, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to eat, not until you came back, served the meal, and sat down beside him. That was how it went. That was how it had to go.

He was about to get up and go to find both of you himself when-

"Um, Arthur?" Abigail’s voice broke through his brooding. She appeared by the flap of his tent, holding a coffee pot. "There’s some coffee left, and I’ve got to wash the pot, would you like a cup?"

He shook his head, barely sparing her a glance. "Why’d they go to town?"

"Molly and (Y/N)?" Abigail tilted her head, her tone casual. "Oh, they’ve been back. Got back about half an hour ago. They’re in my tent, just hanging out."

Arthur blinked, first in shock, then confusion, which quickly morphed into anger. Half an hour? You’d been back for that long and hadn’t even bothered to come see him? Not even a word after being gone all day?

He shut his journal with a snap, the sound echoing his rising temper, and stood. The muffled chatter coming from Abigail’s tent grated on his nerves as he stalked toward it, each step heavier than the last.

What the hell was going on with you?

He cleared his throat outside the tent before pushing the flap open, only to find you and Molly sitting cross-legged, enjoying supper.

"Where were you? I was waiting for you."

You swallowed your bite, not bothering to look up at him. "Needed a few important things from town, actually, so I had to go."

Arthur’s jaw tightened. "Can you come with me? I want to talk."

"I’m already talking to Molly," you replied, your tone curt, still avoiding his gaze.

Damn it. Why the hell weren’t you even looking at him? That gnawing frustration in his chest boiled over. He had enough of this.

"I said, Come. With. Me." he demanded, his voice low but firm, the tone sharper than he intended.

Your head snapped up, eyes glaring at him with such intensity that, for a moment, he regretted using that tone. Hell, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare him just a little.

"Oh, excuse me, Mister. Don’t you dare order me around like a maid, alright? I sit, talk, and walk when I want to. And right now? I don’t want to. Now go away, we’re busy."

Arthur ignored Molly’s taunting scoff, still fixated on you. Something about this--about you--just didn’t sit right.

"I’m sorry, okay? I’m just hungry. I was waiting for you... Can we eat now?" Arthur’s chest tightened, guilt creeping in. He rubbed the back of his neck, his anger softening. "...I was just worried as hell."

Hell, I still am.

But you didn’t let it go. "I’ve already eaten, and I didn’t ask you to wait for me. There are plenty of people around here you can share your meal with, Arthur. Plenty."

You turned your attention back to Molly, flashing her a rueful grin with your hair covering your face but he definitely caught it.

The Irishwoman gave you a knowing smile, her voice full of mischief. "Oh, girl, there’s always someone around."

This is how it's gonna be huh?

His first instinct was to walk away, but no. Arthur wasn’t the type to run from problems. With one swift movement, he grabbed your arm and dragged you out and behind the tent, just past the tree line. He stared down at you, his expression a mix of annoyance and desperation.

"What the hell is that all about?! And you know I hate it when you go out alone-"

"I don’t care! I don’t care anymore!" you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "I hate going out for some petty stuff too, which, by the way, I clearly asked you to get, and you forgot! I guess books are more important than me, huh?."

Arthur’s chest tightened. He rarely saw this side of you ever since you both got together, the frustration, the hurt, the coldness. "See, this is the problem," you continued, your voice rising. "When men find someone vulnerable enough to control, to fix, they get bored. Then they move on, find someone else to repeat the same damn cycle. Am I right?"

His mouth went dry. The words cut deep. But what hurt him the most was the thought that maybe... maybe you believed that.

He wasn’t asking for much, was he? Three meals with you, a cup of coffee, that was it. Simple things that made him feel like you cared. That made him feel loved. But you didn’t... or did you?

The silence between you two was deafening as he tried to process what you said.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur started, his frustration mounting. "See, this is why I don’t like when you and Molly-"

"Oh, no, no, no. Shush. Don’t you dare," you interrupted, your voice sharp, but there was a deep hurt behind it. "She’s always been right, Arthur. I was the dumb one. I’ve been working my ass off for you, and you didn’t even bother to say goodbye this morning, huh?"

Arthur froze, guilt beginning to gnaw at him. He wasn’t ready for this. "You know, I had a chance to leave this life, you know exactly who I’m talking about. But I didn’t. I chose you. But if I’m just gonna be sidelined like this? Nuh-uh. My ego doesn’t allow it. Nobody gets to disrespect me like that."

You took a deep breath, eyes blazing. "If you don’t want me anymore, then say it. Don’t play these stupid-ass games with me. I’m not Molly, not when it comes to this."

Arthur’s stomach dropped as the weight of your words settled in. He could feel the hurt radiating off of you, the betrayal that had built up. And now it made sense. Molly had probably warned you, just like she always did. He could almost hear her saying it a dozen times in the morning,

'Don’t let him treat you like that, they are all shit.'

"There is NOTHING like that, woman!" Arthur snapped, his voice rising in frustration. "Is that what this is about? You’re ready to just forget, hell, even think like this over a misunderstanding?"

"Call it whatever you want," you replied coldly, not backing down. "But not gonna lie, the pattern makes sense now, Arthur."

He took a step back, trying to steady his breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Don’t say that... c’mon. You know it’s not true! She’s like a sister to me! For God’s sake, how can you even think--"

Without another word, you grabbed his satchel, the leather creaking in your grip, and flipped it upside down. A book slid out and thudded onto the ground.

Arthur froze, his eyes darting to the book, then to the scattered contents of his bag. He watched, his heart sinking, as you threw the satchel aside in disgust. "Bravo," you muttered, the bitterness in your voice sharper than a knife.

"Don't even bother explaining. I’m tired." You began to walk away, but before you could get far, Arthur grabbed your wrist.

"Don't you dare, no way you’re... sleeping away from me." His voice started strong, then faltered into a desperate plea, but you didn’t turn around. With a sharp jerk, you freed your hand from his grasp and continued walking.

Arthur stood there for a moment, his breath heavy as he watched you leave. With a defeated sigh, he bent down to gather the scattered contents of his satchel. Tilly approached, offering to help, but he shrugged her off with a tired wave and handed the book over to Mary-Beth, who was standing a few feet away, her face filled with guilt and sadness. His hand lingered in his pocket for a moment, pulling out the cream he had meant to bring you, adding it to the pile with a sharp scoff.

His posture was slumped, his movements slow and burdened. He didn’t need to say anything, his body language alone was enough to tell Tilly, Mary-Beth, and anyone else watching that this sulking would last for days, and you... you weren’t someone who accepted apologies easily.

❀˖°

And that’s exactly what happened. Arthur waited every day, hoping you would just come, sit with him, and listen. He longed for you to let him explain, to sort things out, so he could hold you in his arms again. Dammit. He missed you at night like a child misses their favorite doll.

But you weren’t just any doll.

You were his doll.

And when it came to you, he was nothing but a man-child.

Everybody knew his routine, the gang enforcer's routine. Simple, predictable. Come back, chat a little, handle his business, talk and eat with you, then the tent flaps closed, just the two of you, a world away from the chaos of the camp.

But now?

Come back, brood in one corner, pace to another, sleep with the flaps wide open.

Arthur’s mood soured every time he saw you doing something that wasn’t just being with him. Chores, errands, anything that took you away, even for a moment, made him restless, agitated. He needed you with him, in the tent, with the flaps closed, where he could hold you, even if it was just in the silence of the night.

Every night, he asked you to come with him. But you ignored him. Yet, he kept asking, unable to stop the desperate hope that you’d return, that you’d see it the way he did.

"Damnit. Damn stubborn ass woman." He grumbled for what? The millionth time? Sighing he petted his horse as it trotted at a leisurely pace, just a few meters from camp. How the hell had it all gone so bad? What was even the point anymore? Are you happy now?

His horse huffed as if sensing his despair, nudging him gently, but Arthur barely acknowledged it. The familiar sound of the camp in the distance only served to remind him that nothing was the same anymore, not the meals, not the quiet talks, and certainly not the comfort of his cot. That's it. This ends tonight.

He is going to carry you over his shoulder if that takes you to talk to him. To hell with your protests and stubbornness.

You were crouched down, sorting through vegetables with Abigail, your hands busy with the task at hand.

It wasn’t long before you saw Molly moving quietly, eyes darting back and forth, heading toward the girls' area.

You knew Molly. You had spent enough time with her to understand that when her instincts kicked in, she often acted before she thought. There was an impulsive streak in her, a tendency to let her emotions guide her steps, and that could be dangerous. Especially now, when tensions were already high.

Without much thought, you excused yourself from Abigail, your voice quick and unsteady. “I’ll be right back.”

You left her with the vegetables and slipped away from the campfire, your steps light as you tried to stay out of sight. Moving quietly, you found a small, hidden spot behind a tent, where you could just make out the faint sounds of voices, though you couldn’t yet hear clearly what was being said. Your heart pounded in your chest.

"(Y/N) and I were so close, in fact, like sisters, but you ruined that too! I don’t know what you told her-" Mary-Beth’s voice cracked, and for the first time, it wasn’t the usual calm, polite tone she carried. There was raw emotion, maybe even a hint of fear, but more than that, it sounded like heartbreak.

"You did it! Just like you're trying to ruin my relationship with Dutch."

"Are you in your senses, Ms. Molly?!" Mary-Beth gasped, trying to defend herself. "How can you even think that?!"

The past few days, you couldn’t help but notice her glances at you, brief but meaningful. It was as if she was caught between wanting to reach out and not knowing if you’d welcome her presence. Her eyes would meet yours across the camp, filled with a mixture of concern and hesitation, as if she longed to approach, to console you, but the fear of intruding, of making things worse, kept her frozen in place.

You understood her hesitation. She was a kind soul, someone who cared deeply for those she loved, and in these tense moments, you knew she wasn’t sure how to navigate the space between you both. And neither did you try to clear the air.

"You and your pretty face are going to be your downfa-"

"Molly, enough." You stepped in, your voice firm. Molly turned to you, arms crossed over her chest, her face filled with frustration.

"(Y/N), don’t tell me you’re under her spell too, for God’s sake. She needs to get a reality check-"

"Molly," you interjected, stepping forward and gently taking hold of her arms. You guided her a few steps away from Mary-Beth, the tension between them thick. "Let me handle it, alright?"

"Don’t pity her, let me make that clear. Otherwise, you’ll be the one regretting it." Molly threw one last angry glance at Mary-Beth, shaking her head before storming off, muttering under her breath.

You stood there, a heavy sigh escaping you as you rubbed your forehead, watching Molly retreat. Turning back to Mary-Beth, who sat on the ground, you softened your expression. "I apologize on her behalf..." You couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. You knew you’d have to work hard to get Molly to let go of her anger, but that's for later.

"It's... alright, (Y/N)." Her voice croaked, and you didn’t miss the tremble in it, nor the quiet tears she tried to hide. Your gaze shifted to the book resting on the makeshift table in the corner. The one she had requested. You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat.

"You’re not reading it?" you asked, your voice gentle.

She looked up at you, shaking her head slowly. You could see the weight of her emotions pressing down on her, and it hurt to see her like this.

You walked over, picked up the book, and sat beside her. "Why not?" you asked softly. It caught her off guard, and for a moment, her eyes softened. She hesitated before returning the smile, albeit faintly, her sadness still lingering behind it.

"I am sorry... (Y/N), if you... if you misunderstood my actions, but I swear it’s nothing. There’s nobody else, except Mr. Morgan that we feel comfortable enough to ask for things... but if you mind it, then we won’t--"

"No. No. You can ask without hesitation, and I am sorry. I was quick to jump to... conclusions," you interrupted, your voice soft with regret. You hugged her, and she gladly returned the embrace. The warmth of her arms around you soothed the tension in your chest.

You placed the book gently in her lap and shifted your body closer, not wanting to break the moment. "I just... y'know... when I love someone, I do it fully. And I don’t tolerate when that gets disrespected, y'know? That’s one thing I will never forgive." Your voice trembled slightly, the depth of your feelings evident. "But anyway, do read it, and then we’ll have a chat about it. You know I love hearing you yap about your books more than reading them myself."

She chuckled softly, her eyes lighting up with a glimmer of her old self, and you watched her face brighten as she held the book. You stood up, feeling a sense of relief, but also a lingering desire to stay.

"Definitely. But for now, I must go work too, don’t want Susan to bury me alive."

"You better." As you were making your way back to the kitchen wagon, a figure stepped in your way.

"Am I forgiven too?" His voice was teasing, but his expression was genuine. You deadpanned, folding your arms.

"Ummmm... let me think about it," you replied with a mock thoughtful expression, your gaze narrowing slightly.

He mirrored your posture, folding his arms with a smirk. "Not fair, woman. Not fair."

"I never said I was." You gave him a pointed look before turning to walk past him.

As you continued your walk back to the kitchen wagon, you felt a lightness in the air, a shift that felt... right. Arthur, still a few steps behind you, watched you quietly with an almost childish pout. There was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that told you he was waiting, waiting for you to acknowledge it all, to say what neither of you had dared to say yet.

You stopped for a moment, as you placed the cutting board, and turned to face him. The sunlight caught the edges of his hair, giving him a softer, not to mention the dark circles, giving him a more vulnerable look than you’d seen before. There was no teasing now, no masks, just Arthur, looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time again.

"I’m sorry, too," you said softly, your voice almost a whisper. "For the things I said."

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don’t like it either. I swear, I’d rather fight a hundred men than have you angry at me. But..." His hand reached out hesitantly, as though unsure whether he had the right to touch you, to pull you close. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I apologize too...for making you feel that way. But I swear it wasn't in my intention."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words. It wasn’t the grand gestures or flowery promises that touched you. It was the simplicity of it, the honesty in his voice, the vulnerability he rarely let show. "Well then let me tell you that," you whispered back, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I’m not going anywhere."

With a relieved exhale, Arthur stepped forward, his arms wrapping around you firmly, pulling you into his chest. It was as though all the tension from before melted away, and in its place, there was just the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. "I love you," he murmured into your hair, the words so familiar now, but somehow more precious each time.

You nestled into his embrace, letting your worries fade for the moment, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I love you, too," you replied, your voice barely above a breath, but you meant it with everything you had.

"Y'know darlin'...I was very close to shootin' myself if I had to sleep on the cold bed any longer. It took strength to control myself and not drag you out-" You rolled your eyes and pulled away.

"Right, now go away, I have work to do."

"Absolutely not. To hell with these damn chores. You are coming with me."

You shot him a skeptical glance, hands on your hips as you paused in your tracks. "Really?" you said, raising an eyebrow.

A grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped closer, his broad frame encroaching on your space. "What do you think, darlin'?" he teased, his hands coming up to cradle your face, nearly squishing it with playful force. He gave your head a gentle shake, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It’s been too damn long. You’ve had me sleeping like a corpse for days. You cruel woman."

You tried to hold back the laugh that bubbled up in your chest, but his determination was infectious "Fine," you muttered, giving in more to his presence than anything else. He grinned, his hands reaching for you, pulling you effortlessly toward the flap of his tent.

"Atta girl." His voice held a triumphant edge, but it was softened with affection.

And finally, after days, the enforcer's tent flaps were closed at night--and so was the distance between you two.

(AN: Req/asks closed for now, guys :/ do keep in mind ur ideas and send once I'll announce them open. But u can always send me ur thoughts or dm.)

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 2 days ago

Text

Sirius had a strong knot on his throat right now.

He had to be a supportive friend for Remus. He had promised himself that. That no one would break them apart again.

Now that Remus had come out as gay, Sirius didn't mind, he was being very supportive.

What he didn't expect was to hear Remus talking about boys. Not a lot of boys. Just generally who he found fit at Hogwarts. And then worse, the bloke he had a crush on for years.

His name was Grant Chapman. Funny name, wasn't it?

Apparently he was older, wiser, with more experience. Remus had many fun stories about him that seemed out of an action movie. And he was the friend. The best friend that Remus had when he needed the most. The one that had taught him a lot of things like drinking, and smoking and kissing. The one who had been supportive through his transition. The one who had been there when his mother died.

It was not that Sirius thought Remus hadn't had crushes before. Well, it was kind of weird because Sirius didn't think about that aspect of Remus's life at all.

Now that Remus was openly gay with everyone and was telling Sirius about Grant, Sirius wanted to tore something apart. He didn't know why. He should be happy for his friend, right?

Maybe because he thought there had been someone else there for Remus when Sirius should have been.

"So, yeah" Remus chuckled as he stared at his cigarrette "I was an idiot who had a silly crush when Grant had a new boy each week"

Grant was also very gay which was worse since Remus had more possibilities to be with him.

Sirius tried to disguise his anger? What was this anyway? He just nodded and continued smoking.

"Although Grant was one of those crushes that are fleeting" Remus added as he blinked.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked curiously.

"One of those crushes when you idiolize the other person because they are unreachable. But can be over fast as well" Remus explained "It is definitely not like being in love"

Sirius found himself smiling like a silly schoolgirl.

"So, you don't love Grant"

Remus's eyes focused on Sirius.

"Oh, I love him" Remus said, making Sirius freeze for a bit "But like you love James..." Sirius let out a soft breath "My heart doesn't belong to him"

Sirius hadn't snogged James, though.

Sirius snorted "You're a sappy romantic, Moons"

Remus smiled "What?"

"My heart doesn't belong to him?" Sirius asked clearly mocking.

Remus rolled his eyes "You think it is funny because you haven't fallen in love"

Sirius raised an eyebrow "Oh, so you have?" he asked, and his heart started beating fast for a reason "With Grant?"

God! Why did he sound so pissed?

Remus simply shook his head. He mumbled something that sounded like "With someone else" but Sirius wasn't sure.

"What?"

Sirius wasn't sure for the poor light. But he could have sworn Remus was blushing.

"I said I haven't" Remus answered with a soft giggle in his voice "I just read many romantic books"

Remus kept smoking and silence while Sirius raised an eyebrow. He decided to look at the beautiful stars tonight. Next to the moon, of course.

"So, that's how you spent your summer?" Sirius commented, trying to sound indifferent "With your friend Grant?" he smirked "Is that why you ignored me?"

Remus looked up in alert.

"I didn't ignore you"

"You ghosted me all summer, Moony" Why did it sound like a claim?

"You ghosted me as well, Pads" Remus shrugged.

"Just because you ghosted me first!" Sirius said, trying to tease. "All to be with your bff"

Remus laughed, making Sirius feel a nice sensation inside of him "My bff? Jealous much?"

Sirius shrugged, being dramatic. Maybe he was...

Remus's smile disappeared.

"I didn't know you wanted to talk to me"

Sirius frowned "Why not?"

"Because of what happened before leaving Hogwarts..." Remus said as he swallowed nervously. He wasn't looking at Sirius. Only down.

Sirius knew too well what Remus was talking about. That first awkward kiss. Sirius had that image tattooed in his mind like a mantra. He hadn't stopped thinking about it. It was bloody torturing him. And he didn't know why.

Maybe it was because of what he had found this summer. How much he had been remembering when he was ten years old and Remus was his favorite person when he was Rosie. And how guilty he felt for the family he had. How much it hurt to lose Remus before.

"What are you talking about?"

However, it was better to play dumb. Because talking about it was Sirius's worse fear. Facing his confusing feelings, was his worse fear.

Remus looked disappointed.

"You don't remember?"

Sirius acted confused. "No, about what?"

Remus was clearly blinking away his anger.

"Before climbing the train... Our dorm... We were packing..."

Sirius remembered every single detail of that day. However he shook his head, acting clueless.

"Seriously? Are you that dumb?"

Sirius swallowed his tears "Yeah, siriusly" he joked like an idiot.

Remus took a deep breath and looked away.

"Forget it, Sirius"

Remus was clearly pissed and Sirius felt like a fool. He was such a coward.

People said he was cool, reckless and brave. But in reality he was a scared little boy that couldn't admit what he felt.

A stupid boy that couldn't admit he wanted to kiss Remus again. So badly.

"Faggot! A cissy boy just like your Uncle" a voice that sounded like his father screamed inside his head.

"Fuck it, I don't care!" he answered to that voice.

Sirius's heart was beating so fast, it should be dangerous. He felt a shot of adrenaline rushing through him.

"You mean this?"

As soon as Sirius finished saying that, he grabbed Remus's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

And when their lips touched, Sirius felt fireworks inside his tummy and goosebumps all over his skin. Especially when Remus kissed him back.

It was ten times better than their first kiss when Sirius panicked. Sirius knew now how much he wanted this as long as he didn't think about what it made him. But it was clear as water how much he cared for Remus. How much he loved him. Even if he didn't know in what way.

More, more, more and more of this. His brain was yelling. How could we live without this?

Remus seemed to be thinking the same. Because he kept going. He kept opening his lips for Sirius. He let Sirius ran his fingers through his hair.

They only stopped when they were out of breath.

"Is that...What you... Meant?"

Sirius could feel his cheeks on fire and he was clearly catching his breath. It would have been awfully embarrassed if Remus wouldn't have been the same.

And how adorable did he look. Damn.

"Yeah" Remus nodded, still mesmerized. He let out a soft giggle "But that was so much better than the last one"

Sirius couldn't avoid smiling embarrassed.

"So, you remember"

Sirius snorted "Of course I remember, Moony"

"You dumbass"

Sirius laughed.

Remus seemed so happy, he touched Sirius's hair, which sent shivers down his spine.

"Yeah" he chuckled "But it is not a big deal, ok?"

Remus stop smiling "What?"

"Don't get hooked, Moony" Sirius said nervously "It was just like with Grant this summer. Just an innocent snog... To break the ice" he snorted at the end although he was dying inside.

He was so embarrassed with Remus and himself that he wished he could go back in time and never give in with his desires.

Remus looked disappointed, sad or angry. Sirius didn't know.

"So, you didn't want to kiss me?"

"Of course I did!" Sirius exclaimed immediately only because Remus looked like a lost puppy "I liked kissing you" he smiled slighty and touched Remus's cheek "But I am not looking for a relationship or anything, you know? And I don't want to ruin our friendship or hurt you"

Remus frowned, trying to consider what Sirius was saying. Sirius was kind of panicking thinking he just fucked everything up between them.

"So, you want to continue snogging me?"

Sirius didn't know what was the correct answer here.

"Just as friends?"

Sirius didn't know how much he needed Remus's lips until he tasted them for the first time months ago. But it was not only about that. It was about Remus and what they had. The beautiful relationship they had rebuilt. The jokes, the dynamic, the closeness, the peace Sirius felt around his friend.

"Isn't it what you used to do with Grant?" Sirius asked carefully.

Remus could have told him to fuck off. But he didn't. Instead, he said:

"Yeah, I guess. Although I didn't know you were into blokes"

"I'm not!" Sirius snapped then he sighed "I mean I like you. I like kissing you" he shrugged "What's the big deal?"

Remus leaned in and Sirius thought he was going to kiss him again. Like an idiot he expected it with bloody desire.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship either"

"We won't" Sirius swallowed as he stared at Remus's lips "I promise"

When Remus kissed him this time, Sirius melted immediately into it. It felt amazing. He hadn't liked to kiss someone this much. He mostly did it with girls because he thought he was supposed to. Not because he needed their lips like air. Not because he wanted to merge into one with them by kissing them forever.

What was Remus doing to him?

After what felt like ages of intense snogging because none of them wanted to stop, they had to eventually catch some air.

Eventhough Sirius loved it when Remus placed his forehead apong his, it felt like it was getting out of hand.

"You could love him, couldn't you?" a voice said inside his mind. "What if you already do? Remember how you felt on the top of the world when you were ten and he was around? Remember when you felt like dying when he left?"

"Oh, do you miss your little girlfriend, Sirius?" his mother used to ask with a mocking tone when she caught Sirius crying "Well, it seems she has forgotten about you"

"NO! THAT'S NOT TRUE! ROSIE IS MY BEST FRIEND!"

"More girls would come, Sirius" his father would say, he didn't believe his son was so weak to cry for someone "Prettier girls... My son doesn't cry like a cissy for a silly girl"

What a pair of arseholes his parents were.

Sirius broke apart in alert.

"So, do I kiss better than you friend Grant?" he said to break the ice.

It worked because it made Remus laugh.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night" Remus said and Sirius gasped.

Then Remus added "Yeah you do"

Sirius's heart jumped inside his chest. They smiled at each other with blushy cheeks they were so pathetic.

"Soooo....." Remus snorted.

Sirius chuckled.

"I do have to remind you" Remus smirked "That we are students and we have to come back because it is getting late and we have class tomorrow"

Sirius groaned, dropping his head back. Remus giggled.

"Alright!" Sirius shrugged "Let's go"

Remus didn't move though. He kept staring at Sirius in a way that it was out of this world. In that instant, Sirius felt perfect and flawless under Remus's eyes.

"Or maybe..." Remus took a step closer "It wouldn't hurt to snog for a bit longer... Let's say five more minutes?"

Sirius grinned so hard that his cheeks hurt.

He grabbed Remus's sweater and pulled him closer.

"That sounds great"

"Yeah?" Remus asked staring at Sirius's lips.

"Shut up, Moony, and bloody kiss me"

Sirius kissed Remus's giggle and in an instant, they got lost into each other's lips and melted into each other's arms.

Maybe Sirius was fucked.

#Not me reimagining different scenes of Wolfstar's first kiss over and over again #marauders #maraudersera #muggle au #sirius black #remus lupin #trans remus lupin #wolfstar #childhood friends to lovers

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atimeofyourlife · 2 days ago

Text

Go ahead, rip my heart out

Part 2 of the make it worse before it gets better (part 1 here | ao3)

rated: t | wc: 1283

There was a little bit of a whirlwind once they knew what was going on. Maddie was going to call Chimney while Eddie let Bobby know, and then the message would get passed on to Hen.

Bobby and Athena were the first to arrive, followed by Chimney, followed by Hen. It felt all too familiar, gathering together in a hospital waiting room sharing information while waiting for news on Buck.

"What even happened?" Hen asked, looking between Eddie and Maddie. "Have you called Tommy?"

Eddie sighed, hating that he was going to have to break the news. "Buck came over to mine last night after Tommy broke up with him. We split a six pack and he slept on my couch. When I woke up this morning he was having cardiac symptoms so I called for an ambulance and here we are."

"They're still doing testing but the doctors think it's broken heart syndrome." Maddie added.

"Is that even a real thing?" Athena asked after a beat of silence.

"The clinical name is takotsubo cardiomyopathy. It's a sudden weakening of a the heart muscle." Hen explained, sounding like she was repeating verbatim something she had read in a medical textbook when she was in medical school.

"Yeah." Maddie replied, nodding at Hen. "It's often caused by sudden physical or emotional stress. Like the loss of a loved one or a break up. That's why it's called broken heart syndrome."

read more below the cut or on ao3

Once Buck was done with the testing and was allowed visitors, Eddie, Maddie, and Bobby joined Buck to hear what the doctors had to say.

"The scans we have done are showing an enlargement of the left ventricle, which is the standard presentation of takotsubo cardiomyopathy. We're going to need to keep you in for a few days, for continued monitoring, but the outlook is good."

"What does it mean for work? I'm a firefighter." Buck asked, still sounding a little out of breath but nowhere near as bad as he had before Eddie had called 911.

"Well, you are going to be out for a while. Maybe on light duty behind a desk for a few months. But the majority of people recover to full health. The heart muscle usually heals within a month, and it's generally around two months for patients to get back to full health. We will continue monitoring, so you won't be able to return to full duty until you have received the all clear from us."

"What is the chance of recurrence?" Maddie asked, sounding a little worried.

"Recurrence is seen in the region of 4 to 10 percent of cases, and there is no solid way to guarantee prevention. But we recommend eating well, sleeping well, regular exercise. If you haven't already, maybe look into therapy to talk about the emotional stressors both on and off the job."

"I have been in therapy, but not for a while. I guess I need to call Doctor Copeland." Buck sighed. "What about complications?"

"That was going to be my next point. Complications are rare, but as a precaution we will be starting you on blood thinners, because of your history of blood clots. The complication we are most concerned about in your case is a blood clot in the heart wall."

"Great." Buck slumped back into his pillows, seeming defeated.

"I'll give you some time. A nurse will be in shortly with your medication." The doctor said, before leaving the room.

"Buck, as soon as you're cleared medically, you can come back. If you're still on blood thinners, it won't be a deal breaker. I won't make that same mistake again." Bobby assured him.

"It's not." Buck sighed. "It's just hitting all the greatest hits right now. Someone I love has left me again, god I've lost count of how many times that has happened. I'm back on blood thinners, like after my leg was crushed. Worried about my heart health, like after the lightning strike. I just can't help wondering what's next?"

Working without Buck felt strange. They were back on shift a couple of days after Buck had been admitted to the hospital, and everything just felt slightly off. Eddie knew that they all should be used to working down a man between all the injuries and health scares they'd accumulated over the years, or all the times personal reasons had kept them off the job, like the months he was working at dispatch as a liaison. Hell, they hadn't long had Bobby back at the head of the 118. But Buck, he was the glue that held their family together. Eddie had heard the stories from before he'd joined, before Buck had joined. People had been friends, but not family. It had been Buck's stubbornness and huge heart that had turned the station into a family.

And he couldn't help worrying. What if something else happened to Buck? Sure, Buck was in hospital, and it was the best place for him to be. And he was already responding to the treatment. But there was always that what if. Everyone else had told him that Buck would be okay, that the doctor had assured them that he would make a full recovery. But they hadn't seen him. Only Eddie had seen how he'd been that morning. How terrifying it had been to see his best friend in so much pain, not knowing what was going on.

The only thing keeping him going was knowing that Buck would never be alone for long. Even while they were on shift, there was a revolving cast of friends and family that would continue to check in on him. Maddie, Athena, Karen, Carla, Pepa, Josh, Linda, Sue. People that could stop by for a few minutes, others for a longer visit. Somewhat replicating what had happened when Buck was recovering from the lightning strike, but more to keep him company while he was in the hospital than having people constantly on his doorstep to check in without actually letting him rest.

It was a four alarm fire at an apartment complex near the end of shift. There were so many houses on scene, Eddie tried to focus on the job rather than trying to figure out who else was involved. He had noticed the 217 engine, and could only hope that Tommy was on air support. He wasn't ready to have that conversation. Hell, he wasn't sure he would be able to have that conversation without it turning to anger. What could he even say to the man who had just broken his best friend's heart so bad it had landed him in the hospital.

"Diaz." He was just packing down the equipment at the end when he was approached by one of the 133 paramedics. "How's Buckley doing?"

"Better. He's responding to treatment, still in hospital." Eddie replied.

"That's good to hear, we were pretty worried about him. Thought it could be some delayed reaction to the lightning."

"No. It- uh-it's a type of cardiomyopathy." Eddie said, choosing his words carefully. Not wanting to share too many details of Buck's health. "The doctor said he should make a full recovery within a few months."

"Nothing keeps you guys at the 118 down for long. Let him know we're all thinking about him."

"Will do, thanks man." Eddie nodded and the paramedic left to join the rest of the 133.

Eddie finished loading the equipment back into the engine, and made to get in, when he noticed Tommy standing a few feet away. He didn't want to acknowledge him, but Tommy beat him to it.

"Eddie," Tommy's voice sounded a little hoarse, a slightly distant look on his face. "Where's Evan?"

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #evan buckley whump #platonic buddie #buckley siblings #tommy kinard #tevan #make it worse before it gets better #atimeofyourwrites

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themongrelcatcamehome-blog · 2 days ago

Text

i am trying to break your heart pt. 3

Hello! Here's part 3.

__________________________________________________________

Synopsis: Over a month has passed since Caitlyn and Vi ended their relationship, yet Caitlyn couldn’t find a reason to celebrate Jinx's capture. Despite it being a huge day for Piltover and the Enforcers, Caitlyn only wanted to go home, but someone had another plans for ther.

Tags and Warnings: angst, violence, strong language, blood, smoking, drinking, suicidal thoughts, caitvi fight i'm really sorry y'all

____________________________________________________

Caitlyn didn’t move. She clutched her jacket tightly against her neck in shock. Sevika remained motionless ahead of her, the sounds from her mechanical arm growing louder.

- Hello, traitor. Found your way back home?

Caitlyn needed to leave. At any moment a fight would erupt and she had no idea what to do. She couldn’t think. Her gaze darted between Sevika and Vi and she felt all the color drain from her face. She was trembling with anxiety. Sevika could expose everything to Vi at that moment and Vi would likely kill her. Caitlyn struggled to steady herself, feeling on the verge of fainting. Shame, disgust, and fear hit her all at once.

Vi activated her gauntlets, growling with fury and leapt toward Sevika. Before she could land a hit, Sevika’s mechanical arm detached from her torso a steel cable that wrapped around both of Vi’s gauntlets. Caitlyn ran forward trying to intervene, but Sevika’s human arm swung back planting a firm hand against Caitlyn’s chest, holding the commander in place.

- Well, well, traitor. Looks like my toy is bigger than yours!

In one swift motion, Sevika yanked the detached arm back with a sharp pull. The gauntlets were ripped from Vi’s fists and clattered to the floor. Sevika flung them behind her, smashing everything on the table, sending items rolling over the mini fridge and crashing them into the far corner of the room. Vi crouched, regaining her balance.

Caitlyn was terrified. Sevika was going to kill Vi right in front of her. What could she do? Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something to use against Sevika. She froze when Sevika completely released her mechanical arm. The massive device hit the floor with a thunderous crash. Sevika massaged her shoulder and said:

- Come on, piggy. Fight me, fair and square.

Vi was seething with rage, her face bloodied with all the fight on the way to that room. Who knows how many people she’d beaten to get there? Caitlyn stepped between them.

- Enough. Stop it! Violet, I’m fine. Just stop. - Cait, get out of the way. I’m finishing what I started. Ready to lose another arm, ugly ass bitch? - Vi, Vi... If only you’d arrived half an hour earlier! I definitely would’ve enjoyed hearing you talk crap!

Caitlyn turned to Sevika.

- We have a deal, don’t we? Let us go. It’s over. - Cait? What deal? What are you talking about?!

Vi was confused, ready to destroy Sevika’s face. The adrenaline pumping through her veins kept her from noticing the tension in the room. Caitlyn ran her hands through her hair, pushing it all back and looked at the ceiling.

- Violet, Sevika and I... Sevika wanted to strike a deal with me. A peace agreement in exchange for ending the brutality of our soldiers against her people... your people... We’ll focus on the barons instead. That’s it. - Yeah, piglet. Your girl and I got an arrangement indeed. But you and I can still fight if you want.

Vi was in shock. She knew Caitlyn had changed, that she was open to softening her stance on Zaun, but a deal? With Sevika? And why were Caitlyn’s clothes so dirty, her shirt torn like that?

- Caitlyn... Did this fucking coward lay a hand on you? Tell me right now. - No! I mean… No! No, she didn’t.

Sevika clenched her fists, rolling her eyes at Caitlyn. Their gazes locked and Caitlyn nodded slightly. “Please don’t say anything, please…”

- You two got thirty seconds to get out of my office.

Vi was slowly piecing it together. Could Caitlyn have done it? Was Sevika low enough to force Caitlyn into sex for a deal? Vi’s mind was spinning. She looked down and noticed Sevika’s unbuttoned pants. Her stomach churned and her heart seemed to stop for a moment. The whole world stopped and Vi felt her stomach churn.

- No... Please, no... - Yes! No! Yes! Fuck you! Get out of my sight, both of you.

Sevika was getting angrier now. One wrong move from Vi and she would snap her neck.

Caitlyn took a few steps toward Vi, devastated to see her like this. What could she possibly be thinking? Did she assume the deal involved sleeping with Sevika to persuade her? Or that Sevika had forced her? Caitlyn could only manage to say:

- Let's go home, Violet.

With eyes welling with tears, Vi removed her badge from her waist and threw it at Caitlyn’s feet. Tears streamed down her face now.

- I’m already home, Commander.

Vi turned her back and left.

Caitlyn was in shock, frozen in place. She quickly crouched to pick up Vi’s badge, her head spinning. She felt dizzy and began to cry. Sevika, now reattaching her mechanical arm, walked toward Vi’s gauntlets. She kicked one to try and break the hexcore casing, but it didn’t give. Picking up a cigarette, she leaned against the table.

Caitlyn was on her knees, holding Vi’s badge in one hand and covering her face with the other, sobbing uncontrollably. She got to her feet and said out loud she needed to go after Vi.

- Sweetheart, don’t be crazy. You don’t know your way around Zaun; you’ll end up getting yourself killed. Let her go, she’ll come back. - Shut up! This is all your fault!

Caitlyn spun toward Sevika and threw Vi’s badge at her. Sevika dodged it effortlessly, took a long drag from her cigarette and set it back on the table.

- Too soon to argue about our relationship, fox. But you can put all the blame on me, of course. - Stop calling me that! Stop calling me animal names! I’m not your pet! My name is Caitlyn Kiramman! And you’re under arrest!

Sevika watched Caitlyn in her state of utter despair, tears streaming down her face. For a moment Sevika almost felt sorry for her. She stepped toward Caitlyn and pulled her into her arms.

- Let me go. Let me go... - I’m not letting you go. - Let me go, damn it! What the hell! I hate you! - I hate you too, Commander.

Sevika kissed the top of Caitlyn’s head as the woman buried her face in Sevika’s chest. Caitlyn’s tears soaked Sevika’s tank top. Sevika wanted to stroke her hair, say something. That strange flutter in her stomach returned. Sevika wanted to protect Caitlyn. She felt a sting in her nose at that moment. If she stayed any longer...

Straightening her posture, she took Caitlyn’s face in her hands, wiped her tears, and said:

- Commander, pull yourself together. - Take me home, Sevika, please...

Caitlyn’s voice was so soft and faint that Sevika had to lean in to hear her.

- Yes, I'll take you home. I’ll take you to her.

Caitlyn shook her head in refusal, but Sevika didn’t notice.

She found the idea of Vi being her home, her safe haven incredibly beautiful. Caitlyn’s thoughts raced: she also found Sevika’s perspective on the two of them breathtakingly beautiful too.

The commander wondered if she should confront this sentiment now.

“Why the hell do I find Sevika interesting? Is Vi my safe haven, my home? If she is, why am I in someone else’s arms?”

Her train of thought stopped suddenly. What would she tell Vi? Or worse: what would Vi say? Could she bear to hear it?

Caitlyn felt like she was drowning. Her throat tightened, her heart raced uncontrollably; she wanted to disappear. She wanted to turn back time and undo everything: resist the Council’s pressure, avoid joining Jinx's task force, stop Vi from breaking up with her, never have sex with Sevika... The lump in her throat grew, almost choking her. She wanted to scream, to break things. What had she done with her life these past few months?

She remembered the breakup.

Things had been strained since their conversation about joining the task force. Vi had become increasingly distant, both physically and emotionally. She canceled their plans, stopped going to her place and avoided Caitlyn at work. Caitlyn would go to Vi’s apartment as it was the only way they would see each other. Vi avoided physical affection as much as possible, eventually giving in, but things felt different.

The last time they slept together—Caitlyn realized now—Vi avoided looking at her face. She preferred positions that kept her turned away.

The lump in Caitlyn’s throat eased as she took a deep breath in Sevika’s embrace.

“How could I be so blind? She was suffering, needed my support, and all I could say was, ‘Do what’s best for your heart.’ Am I an idiot? Of course I am! How didn’t I see it?”

Caitlyn’s head started pounding again. She turned her face to Sevika:

- No, take me to Piltover.

Sevika released her from the embrace. She walked over to her guard who was still unconscious, checked his pulse. The man’s nose was broken, his face soaked in blood. Sevika crept to the door and saw more guards lying on the floor, bloodstains on the walls, shattered lamps and broken pieces of wood.

Sevika wanted to ask if Caitlyn wouldn’t rather go to Vi but secretly felt pleased when the commander chose Piltover.

- Your girlfriend caused a mess; it won’t be that simple. My men are down in the corridor... I can’t leave Zaun. - Please, Sevika.

Caitlyn’s tone was firm, but her voice was breaking now. Sevika noticed Caitlyn was blinking slower and that her eyes were red. It was nearly midnight, the city lights glowing and smoke danced outside the window. Sevika walked back to the table and grabbed her phone. She dialed a number, and the person on the other end picked up on the second ring.

"Scar, are you at your place?

I’m lying down with my son, Sevika. What’s going on?

I need you to check the perimeter of my house. Now. There was... an altercation. I’m not sure if it’s safe to leave.

Altercation? A fight? Are there casualties?

I don’t know. Gregor is unconscious in front of me.-

Are you hurt? I’ll bring a group and let you know if it’s clear—

I’m not hurt. I need to escort C... someone to Piltover."

What? Who? This late? What’s happening, Sevika?

Scar, just trust me.

I’m risking my neck just talking to you, my friend.

Scar... Look, bring your guys, make sure it’s all clear and meet me in the attic or just call me. Got it? I’ll be there.

Understood."

Scar hung up. He was a Vastayan and leader of the Firelights. Scar was a good-hearted man. Heavily political. As someone tied to Zaun's barons, Sevika wasn’t welcome in the organization, often seen as untrustworthy.

Sevika adjusted a piece of her mechanical arm and a sharp part extended. She turned to the commander.

- Caitlyn, stay behind me. Only move when I move, got it?

It was the second time Sevika called her by name. Caitlyn wasn’t sure anymore if she regretted sleeping with Sevika, but she didn’t want to think about that now. Amid the chaos in her mind, she felt grateful to be with her and held on to that feeling.

She stepped forward, her foot landing in Gregor’s blood. She jerked her foot up in surprise, but continued.

- Okay. I’m right behind you.

Sevika and Caitlyn stepped through the door.

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

Vi was searching for drinks in her old room in Vander’s bar basement. She scanned the shelves where small flasks were usually hidden but found nothing.

She knew countless ways to reach that room and had gotten in on her first try. Everything was in its place, though covered in dust. Her face was bruised, her body aching all over, she was almost certain she had a broken rib and a sprained ankle. Kicking off her boots, she collapsed onto the couch.

She tried taking off her jacket but couldn’t manage it—now she was certain about the broken rib. She punched the couch arm in frustration, the wood clunking against something metallic. She reached into the gap between the armrest and the seat, feeling around until her fingers closed on a square metal object.

“You sneaky bitch. You thought you could hide something in my house?" Vi thought.

The sneaky bitch was Sevika—the only person who would know how to reach the kids’ old hideout from Vander’s time.

She shifted her body to the side, lifted the cushion and pulled out a metal box. Inside she found an unlabeled bottle filled with a light brown liquid, completely full. She uncorked it, the sharp smell of alcohol stinging her nose and making her eyes water. It was definitely Sevika's stash from Bilgewater.

Vi drank for ten seconds straight, the alcohol burning her throat, each swallow making her chest ache worse. Lowering the bottle to her knee, she thought:

"You fucked my girl, I drink your expensive booze, asshole."

It didn’t come out as satisfying as Vi had hoped. Her heart was heavy, an unbearable anguish settling over her. She felt weak. The alcohol was kicking in; her head spun lightly. She wanted a cigarette but had quit smoking since moving to Piltover. Reaching into the couch again, she searched the box for cigarettes but found none. She felt tears welling up.

“Why is this happening to me? How did I end up in this mess? Everything I did for her didn't mean a thing, and now I have nothing... I have nothing!" Her thoughts turned into words as she began talking to herself.

"Nothing! I have no one to talk to. All my friends are in Piltover and all we ever talk about is sports anyway. The only person I could talk to came to Zaun... to my house... To…

Claggor, if you’re here...

Mylo, don’t you dare laugh.

P... Powder."

Vi stopped. Warm tears streaked her battered face, stinging her wounds. She drank more, the liquor dribbling on her lips. The worst feeling crept over her now—the one she hated most, the one she had silently endured for months.

Moving to Piltover and permanently becoming an Enforcer had been her way of staying close to Caitlyn, of regaining some control of her life. Caitlyn was all she had left. Jinx was erratic, speaking nonsense on the rare occasions she showed up. Her little sister had become a symbol for Zaun and Piltover’s number one public enemy. Powder was gone; only Jinx remained.

Vi wanted to start fresh, to own her decisions. Her greatest dream had been to take over Vander’s bar—not as a hero like him, but as a humble presence. But being a hero would be so bad? Everyone in Zaun saw her as Vander’s extension. They were both fighters; they were both strong, both trustworthy.

Vi sobbed harder, her body shaking with each breath.

"What was I thinking, putting my life in her hands? That... that bastard. That’s what she is. I can't even curse at her from a distance! My life revolved around her, for her. I’m such an idiot."

Her thoughts quickened. She was thinking of everything she had avoided these past months in Piltover. Whenever such thoughts arose, Vi would call Caitlyn, visit Caitlyn, hug Caitlyn... Every day of her life was an internal battle. She woke up feeling hopeless and forced herself to get through the day, everyday.

Vi worked out at the precinct gym, ran, took vitamins. She adopted a kitten from the park. Donated money to the Firelights. Made sure her squad was kind to Zaunites. She was promoted in just one month for her exemplary service. But whenever she felt she might break, she took sleeping pills and carried on the next day as if nothing had happened. Caitlyn would be there for her.

Her soldiers showing her sports updates. Her kitten rubbing against her. She clung to even the smallest things.

"Today I have to work because it’s recruit Watson’s birthday," she’d think.

"Today I must get up because it’s the opening of the new district school. Caitlyn hates public events.

I can’t sleep too much because I need to go to the bank.

There’s a good movie on tonight.

Tomorrow would’ve been Benzo’s birthday.

Vander wouldn’t want to see me like this."

Every day, Vi sought a reason to go on. When she couldn’t find one, she’d tell herself she had to stay alive to be the Enforcer who captured Jinx—even if she wasn’t part of the task force or Zaun’s affairs anymore. She wanted Caitlyn, the after all commander, to have the final say when that day came.

She never told Caitlyn that but prayed she wouldn’t have to.

Thinking of it now, she laughed bitterly:

"Why would Caitlyn make me arrest my sister, for fuck’s sake? Damn it..."

When those thoughts weren't enough, Vi thought of Caitlyn.

"She needs me.

Her mother died because of me.

She doesn’t know how to fight—I’m teaching her... Guns don’t solve everything.

I love her so much; I can’t stay like this.

I’ll get up, call her and her voice will calm me down. She knows how to make me feel loved."

It was exhausting being Vi.

“I'm exhausted" she thought.

When she wasn’t searching for reasons to live, she was searching for Caitlyn.

Now, in the dim, dusty room, Vi was terrified. She was sinking into the couch, drunk, crying, utterly alone. The weight of guilt and despair came crashing down all at once, consuming her. Her body trembled, every sob ripping through her heavily battered face.

She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling, and let out a wail—half scream, half cry. Her voice echoed through the empty space.

"She watched me lose everything. She knew she was all that I had. How could I be so stupid? She had everyone, and I had only her."

Vi wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing a mix of tears and blood across her face. Her vision blurred as red streaks filled her line of sight. For a moment she thought she was dying, but then she remembered—the blood from her injuries was mixing with her tears.

It reminded her of when Powder fell into a stagnant moss-covered pond as a kid and panicked, thinking she was "seeing green." Despite herself being in a shitty hole, Vi let out a hoarse laugh through her sobs, a brief break in the storm of emotions. Then she lowered her head again, shoulders slumping as the reality of her situation weighed down on her.

“If... If I hadn’t left that day... If I’d stayed... If I’d asked for help.

Vander, you were dead!

Because of her!

Because of me!

She... She was just a kid, dad.

I was her big sister. I shouldn’t have left her alone.

I punched her, dad. And I left.

I left because I was angry, but I—"

Her words broke off, choked by another wave of sobs. Vi clutched at her chest where the pain was the sharpest. It wasn’t just the broken rib—it was the ache in her heart, pounding relentlessly. She couldn’t take it anymore.

The room spun around her, the furniture tilting like a ship in rough waters. Vi gripped the edge of the couch, trying to steady herself, but she fumbled knocking the bottle to the floor. The glass shattered, releasing the sharp, stinging scent of alcohol into the air.

"Great," she muttered bitterly, the shards glinting in the dim light.

“I'm in this big stinky boat and I can't even drown.”

She clenched her fists. She patted her waist instinctively, looking for her belt and holster, but they were gone—lost in the chaos of her earlier fight. Her phone was back in Piltover and the radio on her jacket was off to avoid detection.

"I ran..." Vi whispered to herself, the realization hitting her like a freight train.

She had run across four districts, from Piltover to Zaun, desperate to find Caitlyn. The transport that had brought the messenger to warn her about Caitlyn’s disappearance only went as far as the industrial zone where Piltover ended and Zaun began. From there, she’d sprinted, not stopping to think or breathe.

"I left everything behind... The doors unlocked, the windows open... I came running for you, Caitlyn."

Vi curled into herself, her trembling fingers clutching the silent radio like a lifeline. She turned the dial, hoping for a signal, but there was nothing. Just static.

The sound it made was too much, filling the room and her buzzing so loud in her head. Her ears buzzed, her stomach churned. She thought she might vomit and leaned forward, her hands braced on the coffee table. She spat, trying to clear the thick saliva pooling in her mouth. False alarm.

Vi sat back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when a creak of old wood shattered the silence. Her head snapped toward the door, heart pounding as adrenaline surged through her battered body.

Caitlyn stood in the doorway.

Vi’s breath hitched.

- What are you doing here? Get the fuck out.

She barked instinctively, her voice low and cold.

She wanted to run to Caitlyn, pull her into her arms and tell her everything she just said to no one but the books and the ghosts. But she hated herself for it. Her body reacted before her mind could stop it, every nerve screaming to reach her as she always did but she didn’t move this time. She stared straight ahead, clenching her fists so tightly her nails bit into her palms.

Caitlyn’s hands trembled as she stepped forward cautiously.

- You... You’re hurt. Let me help you.

Caitlyn said softly, her words filled with warmth.

Vi’s jaw tightened, her gaze fixed on the far wall.

- No. Get out of my sight. You’re the last person I want to see. Leave.

Caitlyn froze, her heart breaking at every word. She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears, but they spilled over anyway.

- Vi, please... I— - I said leave, Kiramman!

Vi roared, the sound reverberating through the room.

But Caitlyn didn’t move.

Vi grabbed another bottle and started drinking. She was shaking. She didn’t want Caitlyn to leave. What was that feeling? How could she want the presence of someone who had hurt her so much? Vi wanted to stop shaking, wanted to keep her voice steady, but she was crying again.

It takes time to process that the people we love can also be the ones who hurt us.

Caitlyn walked to the small railing that led to the lower part of the room, where the couch Vi was sitting on was.

- Violet… My lov… Please. Let me take you home. There’s a vehicle waiting for us two streets up. You need to... - Is it Sevika’s car? Or yours? Oh no, yours was left at the precinct while she kidnapped you! Damn. She kidnapped you and is still giving you a ride? Imma tell the world how generous Sevika can be. - Vi, it's a patrol car from our side. You need to see a doctor, you’re all fucked up – - So are you and I’m not nagging you about it, am I? - I... I’m not as hurt as you... - Ha. Alright, didn’t get the joke.

Caitlyn was sleepy, tired and didn’t realize that Vi meant something else.

- Violet. For everything sacred, come with me. You’re bleeding. - “For everything sacred’? Do you even know what’s sacred to me? - It was just an expression, Violet. I just want to help you. - Get out of my sight and you’ll be helping me. I shouldn’t even be talking to you. How the hell did you get here anyway?

Caitlyn took more steps toward the couch, descended the short flight of stairs and went around. She stopped behind Vi, reached out to touch her hair, but pulled her hand back.

Vi’s hair was dirty with blood and mud. Caitlyn reflected on how much she loved that hair, how many hours she spent stroking it, smelling it. Her eyes filled with tears. How could she get through all of this? She tried to think of something to say on the way there.

___

Sevika and Caitlyn successfully got to the attic. The path was clear. The orders were well known by her guards: never take a fight near the attic, it was Isha’s hideout.

When they got there they barely spoke, Sevika went to check on Isha.

The commander was relieved she wouldn’t have to be alone with Sevika much longer.

She smelled something strange in the small room, a scent of gunpowder and paint. She realized she was hungry and cold. The attic only had a couch, a TV and behind it a door with more stairs. Sevika had entered and gone upstairs, Caitlyn was on the couch.

Less than twenty minutes passed and the Zaunite’s phone rang. Scar said everything was fine and that Enforcers were guarding near the factory. Sevika went to Caitlyn to update her and Caitlyn took the phone from her hand: she told Scar to send a message to an Enforcer for her.

She didn’t think before speaking. Of course, it didn’t make sense to ask such a thing to a Firelight using Sevika’s phone. She felt like an idiot.

Scar stayed silent on the call and Sevika took the phone back, said she had a plan and hung up.

She put her hands on her hips, looked at the ceiling and ran her hands through her hair.

- You really want to die today. What the hell was that? You want to screw me over? - I... I didn’t think, I'm sorry. - If you’ve forgotten who you are, I...

Sevika didn’t want to be rude to Caitlyn at that moment. She just wanted it to be over. She was tired and scared of Isha waking up from the noise. She continued, now speaking as quietly as she could:

- ... I can’t afford to forget who I am, okay? I have to be sharp and ready all the time. I can't afford to make mistakes. Everything I’ve done to bring you here will cause me problems for at least a month. And I don’t even remember why I did this shit. Oh, I remembered. Great! We have a deal! Nice ass! I’m really trying here. Appreciate that. - Sevika, I just want to go home. I appreciate your efforts, yes, but I– - Yes, you just want to go home and I just want to be able to think straight without worrying if you’re going to break at any moment. Can you please not break? Can you act like a grown woman again?

Caitlyn was angry now. She felt like an idiot, but Sevika was exaggerating, she thought.

- Sevika, I really appreciate your efforts. You’ve gotten yourself into your own mess, not my problem. I just want to go home. Sorry again for saying that crap and taking your phone, okay? I’ve said it already, just open the door and I’ll leave, I’ll handle the rest myself.

Sevika was too exhausted to argue. She was only thinking about Isha. She took a deep breath. She hadn’t heard half of what Caitlyn said, she only focused on the end of her sentence. She said:

- You want to leave Zaun on your own? Go for it. You know the way out. Just step over the bodies and open the door. Good luck.

Sevika pointed to the hatch that led back to the corridor near her office. She was drained from Caitlyn’s presence. She no longer cared about stopping the commander from leaving alone. She simply didn’t care anymore.

- I’ll go. Thanks.

Caitlyn got up from the couch and tried to head toward the hatch. Sevika took a deep breath. She thought about all the implications of that action. If Caitlyn got hurt, kidnapped or something worse happened, hell would soon fall on Zaun and the responsibility would be entirely hers. She grabbed Caitlyn by the arm.

- Okay, commander. Ooookay. You’ve worn me out, congratulations. You’re the first to do it. Listen to me. Shut up and listen. I know who’s guarding the factory today, it’s a little shit who pisses himself every time he sees me. I’ll go to him, okay? I’ll go there. I’ll figure out how Vi got here alone and why no one came after her. I’ll blame the militants and make that piece of shit understand the misunderstanding I’m about to come up with. - Sevika, you lost me at the last bit, but listen... Vi is the only Enforcer allowed to use hextech equipment even though she’s just a sergeant. She has authority, she must have given the orders. They won’t listen to you. - My God, how disgusting. There’s no blood running through those veins, I take back what I said.

Sevika really hated the fact that Vi was an Enforcer. In her mind it was the biggest absurdity of all. She didn’t care about her relationship with Jinx—despite having strong opinions about the two of them making amends, she didn’t care that Vi hadn’t taken responsibility over the bar—she loved working there anyway. But she hated the idea of someone she saw growing up becoming part of the biggest institution that oppressed her people. Caitlyn sighed and said:

- Sevika, give me a break. Did you hear me? You won’t be able to convince any of my soldiers. You need another plan. - Commander, your soldiers are corrupt. Sorry to say this so bluntly. Most of them do business with me. I’m the one who authorizes their comings and goings. I know every slut that sleeps with each one of them in the brothel. - Spare me. I mean, don’t spare me. We can talk later about that and I'll investiga-- - Commander, are you asking for my number or something? Do you want a full report?

The atmosphere between them was so weird. A few minutes ago, Caitlyn was relieved by Sevika’s absence and Sevika no longer cared about the commander. Now they were planning Caitlyn’s “escape” together as if the world weren’t collapsing.

- Is this how you are all the time? - Only when I’m in a hurry and want to sleep. Anyway, I’ll convince your little soldier. Even if it means beating him up. - Sevika, you don’t need to.. - I do. I do need to. Whatever it is, I need to because I can’t take it anymore. We had sex once and now I’m responsible for you? What the hell is this? Listen closely, okay? - You really are a jerk. - Yes, I am and you loved it. I’m leaving now, and you’ll wait in the office, understood? I won’t go back there, I’ll take a shortcut and get back in here another way.

Caitlyn looked at the skylight in the attic. There was an opening.

- Okay. - Great. Stay in the office. Count an hour and leave through the front door. The street will be empty because I’ll send all the drunks, beggars, and other Zaunite fauna somewhere else. You’ll turn right. You’ll see red lights, do you know what those establishments are or do I need to explain? - It’s the brothel, I know. - Alright, smartass. Go to the second door on the right. If I’m not mistaken it’s kind of green-ish. Next to that door there’s an alley, cross it. If anyone’s there, ignore them.

Sevika spoke quickly, Caitlyn tried to keep up. She remembered she had already been to the brothel with Vi. Sevika continued:

- When you get out on the other side, you’ll come face to face with The Last Drop. It’s Vander’s bar, now mine. It will be full, of course, but no one will notice you.

Sevika took her cloak off and handed it to Caitlyn.

- Done. You’ll look like a prostitute with shame or some follower of the dickless priest.

- What?! - Forget it, it doesn’t matter. To the left of the bar, one of my guys will be waiting for you. - How will I recognize him? - He’ll come to you. - Okay. - You’ll do whatever he tells you. - If he touches me… - He won’t touch you, not like that. No one messes with my things.

Caitlyn looked at her with a sharp, curious and angry stare. She thought: “What did she say? She just called me ‘her thing’?” Caitlyn was so angry.

- I love that face you just made. Ready?

Sevika really enjoyed getting on the commander's nerves.

Caitlyn gave up. She just wanted to go home.

- I’m ready.

The two of them left, one at a time, through the hatch.

As they approached Sevika's office door, Caitlyn grabbed the zaunite’s arm.

- Promise me you won't go after her. - Why the hell would I do that? I have a lot of stuff to do, honey. - Promise me. - I won't. I don't care. Maybe she will come after me.

Caitlyin tightened the grip on Sevika's arm but quickly let go of it. She was right.

Sevika looked at Caitlyn with a smirk.

- Touch me like that again, it felt nice. - Sevi– - Kitten, your pitiful cry-baby is probably drinking her sadness away now in her old bedroom. She won't come after me, she has no reason to. But maybe she’ll come for you.

And at that very moment the idea of going after Vi seemed too obvious to ignore. It made perfect sense: she was now sure that Vi was at her old place, where else would she go? And Caitlyn could definitely find a way to access the basement. But the commander couldn't let Sevika see through her plan. So she decided to speak in a way that disguised her intentions well.

- Stop calling Violet those names. Just stop with all that bullshit, it’s exhausting. Your mouth is not worthy of Violet’s name. You don’t even know her.

Sevika started laughing. How adorable. Caitlyn really was something.

This part of the plan worked.

- Now that's a feral kitten. Stop trying to be mean, you don't know how. Get in.

Sevika pushed Caitlyn into the room. The passed-out guard wasn't there anymore. Vi's gauntlets were gone too. Sevika noticed Caitlyn searching for them with her eyes.

- The gauntlets are safe with the Firelights. Vi is a big fan of their work. They'll probably return to her soon enough. I’m not dumb, I wouldn’t steal hex stuff. - Good to know. Goodbye.

Caitlyn turned her back on Sevika in an abrupt move.

Sevika hissed, she put her thumb on her lips. Caitlyn was staring at the window.

- Turns out you do bite. Give me a call if you ever get bored and maybe I'll answer. See ya, hot stuff.

Sevika left.

Caitlyn couldn't wait to hear the front door shut. She knew exactly where to go next.

________

End of part 3. I'll post with part 4 soon and that'll be a wrap. Hope you loved reading this story as much as I loved writing it.

A little note about the dialogue between Cait and Vi:

Vi said "Imma tell the world how generous Sevika can be" and I know it's a bit corny, but I couldn't help it. Sevika's personality was inspired by Renata Glasc, I really wanted to use this line, I'm just a girl xD See ya'll soon!

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