#technically I guess this was half a block before the finish line

[phantomrose96]

finish line photo :0

EASY race

(I'm lying I'm lying I'm lying I'm lying I'm lying I'm lying)

[bismuthburnsblue]

ok so!!! i revisited my work from yesterday, going in and properly blocking out the style lines and strap (still up for change as i get into better fabrics but this is a lot more representative of what they would actually look like now!) (though i am noticing ive set my hemline lower- even extending it on nora, when anne's is quite high, so ill have to see how comfortable i feel with that)

i also took a bit out of the hips on the ally pattern which definitely helped with the shape (i was really just being lazy not doing this, ive used this pattern before and had to do that, i knew it was gonna be an issue)

Theres more notes on my personal thoughts on both patterns below the cut :)

same cw's as before for body image stuff :) (maybe this is silly but i just feel far more comfortable putting warnings + a readmore for corsetry)

(also! i will be doing a post properly introducing this project soon :) ive got a lot i want to say!!)

First up! both of these patterns are by Aranea Black, pdfs of these patterns are still available online but her website is gone now)

Ally is a 6 panel corset with extreme hip spring- heres what the pattern looks like:

i do think the hip spring gives a really dramatic shape, but i do worry that with my upholstery weight faux leather, it just wont sit nicely. on this mock up i had to slit my entire seam allowance at the waist to make it not tuck too badly, and that means cutting my boning channel in half (i think, still deciding details like that) i cant really afford to waste fabric recutting panels if i sew it and it does tuck, either.

(Technically i do have the option available to me to do a twin stitch like Anne's original corset actually has, but this wouldnt be traditional, and wasnt in my plan (even if i wasnt gonna have the bones in the leather layer, i like the /look/ of felled channels on the outside.) a twin stitch however would probably negate most the tucking on the waist point, as it opens it up rather than folding to one side.)

Secondly, the one gripe i have about this pattern is that big line of wrinkles below the waist- now some of this will be from the fabric and it not being worn in, but the "daily wear" version of this corset ive made before still has some of these wrinkles even now, especially over the first hip spring panel. i know theres ways to adjust the fitting to counter the ones over the hip, but those i think are largely from the way the fabrics pulling around the curve- its covers such a large area its bound to pull a little weird in places. I really want a smooth look, a clean finish is the most important thing to me, and i worry no matter what i do they will still be there.

I will say, Ally has a lacing gap designed into the pattern, which is something i want, as Anne's corset has one, and it automatically gives you more leeway in the fit that patterns without it just dont have.

Nora on the other hand is 8 panels, with the hip spring spread across a much further space. On paper it looks much less dramatic, but theoretically should still hold a significant amount of shape, just distributed over more panels.

I guess that would be my first area of concern, that the shape just isnt quite as dramatic as the shape on Ally. i really want something quite striking for this project and though pattern modifications can be made, i was hoping to not have to do too much past simples changes.

The 8 panels also means this pattern will likely eat up more fabric. if nothing else, theres 4 extra sides of seam allowance that the other does not have (though, these pieces will nest together better, so it could end up being negligible) it is a concern however, as im working on a very tight yardage.

One of the immediate positives of this pattern however is the lack of that wrinkle band like Ally has. Since this is worn as an outer layer thats a huge point in its favour, a nice clean finish is basically the top of my requirements list.

Nora also has no lacing gap, which is an issue for the reasons mentioned above (annes costume has a lacing gap, but also lacing gaps give more leeway in the fit, allowing you to be a little tighter on some days than others.) Its possible to draft in a lacing gap relatively easily, but it is something i have to consider.

Its completely arbitrary, but i also feel like the way the strap joined onto this pattern was nicer- it lined up better with the pre existing panels and i think it'd join on as a continuous piece better. again, its extremely minor, i just think its cleaner with less fiddling on my end.

I think im still thinking the same way i was yesterday, that Nora is probably the pattern thats working better for me for this, but its still very up in the air for me. i feel like theres more pattern modifications to do there, but that its probably going to be worth doing the work? but i am definitely interested in what anyone else might think!

[harryleatherfit]

Upper East Side || A.U || Frankie Morales

Chapter 9: Voice Lesson

Chapter Playlist:

Void- Melanie Martinez

Peppers-Lana Del Ray

Does and Mimosas- Cherub

word count: 4.5 k

warnings: celeb conflict??? (deux moi) oral m receiving, cum play, cockwarming ifffff you squint, fluff at the end tbh , fondling balls, soft!dom frankie, rough face fucking, mentions of traumatic family

pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader (teacher x student)

rating: mature (18+)

authors note: so ive never written like sucking dick smut before thankfully so without further ado , also like i’ve planned for this to kinda get darkish- be prepared (pray i don’t fuck up the story 🙋🏻‍♀️🙋🏻‍♀️ )

🪩Main Master List🪩 Series Master List🪩

Recently rehearsals have been going fantastic. You and Matias have mastered your characters, and most of your blocking has been memorized. You would try on costumes and have your makeup done, getting the final touch ups done for tech week.

You haven't seen Frankie outside of class or rehearsal, but it’s okay. There were occasional hidden kisses in the secret hallway, or sly hand touches when you had to talk to him. You would text him at night and in the morning, but you two were both so busy that nothing had moved with your relationship.

If you could call it that.

He was so busy controlling the tech world and getting the set finished on time in the Broadway theater, he would be gone half the time anyway. The life of an actor you guessed.

During your shifts at Matilda’s, Matilda help would always help you with your lines a bit and keep you on task when you weren’t serving a customer. The money you were bringing in with your job was fantastic, and if you could keep up with the tips- you could hopefully pay back your loans in a few years. You were eternally grateful for this sweet woman taking you in and trusting you with her business.

But today was a day you were missing Frankie more than usual. You hadn’t text all day, and with your busy week before Hell week, you felt like he was slipping from you. It sincerely wasn’t any of your faults, but it was how things had to be for the time. In the pit of your stomach, you were scared he was with another girl. You felt in your heart he wouldn’t do that but you weren’t yet truly dating and you didn’t know if you’d ever get to that point. Technically he’s allowed to be with other people, and so were you.

But you had already gotten to that point with him in your heart. You would seal off the rest of the world for him if you could. All you wanted was him.

You could tell Laylah about Frankie, you told them earlier in the year about how you thought he was cute, but involving Laylah so early on may cause trouble.

You definitely couldn’t tell Hannah or Rose, you had no one to tell. You for fuck sure couldn’t call your mom. That made you chuckle at the image in your head.

An idea popped in your head. You could tell Matilda. She could be the key to all your worries.

You finished ringing up your last customer in the shop and head in the back where she was cleaning the espresso machine, formulating how to ask her about the teacher you’re wanting to fuck and possibly spend the rest of your life with.

“Matilda, I was uh, I had something I wanted to ask you about? Something I really need advice with.” You shrug into a chair, looking into her ocean pearl eyes.

“Honey, if it's about math, you’d have to get lost because I can’t even tell you how to do algebra. Don’t even get me started with that.” She babbles.

“No it’s not about Math or anything school related, well maybe school related, but I need advice because I think I’m seeing someone but I need help with like,” You had to process what to say next, “How to go about what to do next with him if that makes sense.”

I mean it was complicated, not entirely but you can’t just say you want to fuck your semi-famous teacher. That’d make you look delusional.

“Ohhh, boy talk. I’m good with this one.” She sets her rag down, “Now how long have you been seeing this boy dear?”

“Well I guess not until recently but there has always been sparks since the beginning of the school year.” You explain, “And until recently I would like to take things further with him…’ You trail off.

“And does he reciprocate those feelings?” She stares at you.

“We’ve both been very busy these past few weeks with the show and rehearsals during school, and keeping our grardes up. They’re not excuses but we truly haven’t had time to be with each other and I feel like he’s slipping through me like sand.” You blurt.

“Sweetie, if you want him to be yours then take him. Life's too short to cry about men that don’t care. If he’s smart, then he’s thinkin the same thing too.” She tugs you in for a hug, “Are you worried about anything else with him?”

You hesitate, “He’s… a little on the older side.”

“How much older?”

“I’d like not to say.” You chuckle.

“Well sweetheart, at least you’re over 18, anything younger and I’d call the cops on his ass.” She gets riled up, “But older as in older than 30?”

You blink, deciding to stay silent.

“Oh darlin, you’re treadin hefty water.” She shakes her head, “When I was about your age, I dated an older man too and I had the biggest disneyland eyes for him. He paid for anything and everything for me. We partied but mind you this was the 80’s. We were the happiest we could ever be, but I wanted kids and he didn’t. He was already so much older and his kids were about to have kids.”

You listen to her, the age gap indefinitely being a serious factor for you both, “Well he doesn’t have kids.” As far as you know, you didn’t know if he had other family, or past relationships. You didn’t know much about him.

“But me and my man back then, we ended things on a good note. We were in each other's lives for a reason. If you and this boy end things for any reason, it can end on a good note. You needed each other for a certain part of your life and you move on with it. That’s life.”

“Thank you, so deeply inspirational.” You say sarcastically.

“I'm serious Sugar, if people learned to have less hate in their hearts, we would probably live longer and not have wrinkles.” She chuckles. “Will you bring him in someday?”

One day, maybe one day in a perfect world when you can officially be together in the world’s eyes and no one would hate you guys for it. In another lifetime, you’d hope.

“Someday.”

“Everything’s okay as long as he’s treating my sugarpie alright.” She kisses your temple and you bask in her scent. Matilda always smells like sweet orange reminding you of the meadows in North Carolina. Reminding you of your mom when you were just a happy little girl. What would you be without Matilda?

------

You clock out and walk out the bakery from your shift, rushing to get to a late night voice lesson you had scheduled with Mr. Miller, after the play you had to worry about your voice recital, and to prepare your voice to be in tip top shape for the spring musical. You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, checking to see your suitemates group chat blow up.

New Message: 19:45

Hannah: Guys check Mr. Morales’s instagram.

Laylah: That man has an instagram? Isn't he like in his 50’s?

Rose: OHHHH SHIT

Laylah: Fuck is this bad, what is it?

Hannah: That picture looks like it was taken outside near our dorm building.

Oh shit.

Laylah: Who’s the fucking girl!

You immediately check Frankies instagram, you guys had followed each other a couple weeks ago, not paying any attention to the fact he has tens of thousands of followers. You click on his profile from the search bar, and his recent new post on his page is the one he took of that night. Captioned: Missing you, mi amore.

You study the picture, your hair is long past your neck, and you obviously can’t see your face, but you can see the moonlight reflecting off your body. It was a good picture. He deleted everything else off his page, it’s just you.

Every step you took felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. After looking at the group chat, you decide to respond,

You: Do you guys think it could be a teacher?

Rose: It could, but none of the teachers here have that hair color.

Of course none of them did, you couldn’t blame the picture on anyone else. At least they didn’t immediately suspect it was a student, or fucking you.

Hannah: It’s blowing up everywhere, the comments under the post are filled with questions and congrats.

Laylah: Look at fucking Deuxmoi.

The next few stories were the picture again, but submissions of people saying who they think it is. You were glad to see nowhere near your name or level of regular people, all C-List celebrities and above.

You: Do you guys have any bets on who it is?

Hannah: Imagine it’s Halsey or like someone super fucking famous and we get to meet her for the show.

Rose: That would be fucking amaze.

Laylah: Isn’t it crazy how he’s like considered famous to us and we just don’t even blink an eye just because he’s our teacher

You: Oh yeah, it’s fucking crazy, I bet we’ll find out soon.

Thousands of people are trying to figure out who you were, and you were 100% sure you would not let that happen.

New Message: 19:57

Frankie: I have a surprise for you

You: I think you have surprised me enough for one day, you think?

Frankie: Was it too much?

You: No it wasn’t, I love it Frankie. It just took my breath away. That gossip girl page Deuxmoi has it posted everywhere though.

Frankie: Well I had to post you sweet girl. That page can talk about you all they want, because I want everyone to see it, I want people to know that my heart has been taken from me.

After receiving that text, you walk into your voice lesson with Mr. Miller and you see Frankie seated next to him, both men looking up from their phones to meet your eyes.

His heart has been taken.

“Hi Mr. Miller, Mr. Morales.”

He shifts in his chair, that name coming from your mouth always makes him squirm.

You get out your music and wait for Mr. Miller to prepare his ipad with his accompaniment for the piano.

“Sorry, today Mr. Morales is going to sit in on your lesson today, we were talking about things for the musical and he doesn’t have much to do for now.” Mr. Miller justified.

“My bad Darlin, I hope my presence doesn’t scare you or anythin.” He glares at you.

“No worries Mr Morales, I don’t mind at all.”

“Perfect, so for today I wanted to pick out Winter Recital music and have you briefly sing them all. This Winter senior recital will be a little shorter than the springs since that’s the last hurrah for your college years but let me show you,” He shuffles through papers, “Here’s the music, I hope you enjoy these pieces, I think they fit your level and voice part quite nicely. And here’s some ensemble music you’ll all be doing together, I’ll play theml.” He turns on his TV, “Fish I hope you don’t mind man.”

There’s that nickname again.

“No it’s cool, I love choral music.” He sits back in his chair, not taking his eyes off of you.

He handed you some pieces your class would do together, he played Indodana, a hymn in Xhosa. This piece brought tears to your eyes, it was incredibly beautiful and you were excited to recreate it with your class. Then he played Earth Song, a cry for peace in the midst of war. This song really resonated with you. Then he went through more pieces for you, commenting on what parts he likes for you.

“And for the finale, I’d like you to pick an opera for yourself. I don’t really teach opera, but I’ve heard you and I know you can do it.” Mr Miller smiles.

“Me, do an opera song at our senior winter recital?”

“Yes, I think it would be good to show off what our school has, yes?” He shakes his head to Frankie.

“Yeah I agree, your tone is so clear darlin, and your voice never gives out. I’m sure you can do it.” He chides in. “Show off your perfect pitch sweetheart.”

He was edging you on. The way you sound with him, so loud and clear. You could scream so loud and high pitched because of him, the heavens could hear.

“Thank you seriously, this means a lot. Do you want me to pick a song now?”

“Preferably so I can get the sheet music, or have someone transpose it onto paper. 5 ish minutes good enough for you?”

You nod, and take out your phone to look through your music library, preferably looking through Caroline Polacheks discography.

New Message: 20:46

Frankie: 5 minutes starting

You: Keep your eyes to yourself Mr. Morales, you’re making me lose focus.

Frankie: Hmmm, I would. But that's no fun. Sorry.

He gets up from his seat to sit next to you, blabbering about some opera songs that he’s liked in his past years.

But you can’t focus on that, all you can focus on is his infatuating smell, it covers your brain cells and prevents you from formulating a single thought. His hair is curlier than usual today, and you would risk your whole life to touch it in front of Mr. Miller. You felt completely unresponsive to anything Frankie was saying to you.

“Find one yet?” Mr. Miller looks over your phone.

“I really liked this one.” You blurted, “Last Days: Non Voglio Mai Vedere II Sole Tramontare. It’s by my favorite singer Carolina Polachek, and she actually did it for a parisian opera a couple months ago. I would absolutely love to see if I could perform this.”

“That’s funny you say that. We all have actually met her.”

“Of course you have,” You throw your hands in the air, “So you know her style of music?” You question Mr. Miller.

You’d have to ask him more another day about her, you were too distracted to care about anything.

“Oh yeah, her voice is beautiful. Those high F sharps may be a challenge, but we'll work on them don’t worry. I’ll get some sheet music soon enough and we can work on the pronunciation.” He looks down to his watch, “Ah, it’s exactly 9. You may leave now, next lesson everyone will be together, and then we’ll go to individual lessons again.”

“Thank you Mr. Miller, have a great night. Mr. Morales.” You smile at him.

You walk out of his lecture room, receiving another ding from your phone.

21:03

Frankie: Wait at the water fountains for me, he’s about to leave through the other exit.

You: What are you up to?

Frankie: We’ll see.

You wait, scrolling through your phone. Interested to see what he wants.

He walks out the hall, locking the door behind himself. Catching you, he looks like a hungry lion. The glimmer changed in his eyes. He advances towards you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to a door near the building entrance unlocking quickly before you can even register. It looks like a janitor's closet.

He flicks on the light, it’s about big enough for someone to sit in, shelves to hold cleaning supplies, but not much more.

“And what is this, Mr. Morales? A small little closet to do what in?” You play dumb.

“You tell me.” He whispers.

A vibration went down your back. You set your bag down in a corner of the tiny room, knowing exactly what you want this night to be for. You’ve been planning for this all along.

Tying up your hair, unbuttoning the cuffs to the sleeves of your shirt. You walk up to him, closing in and pushing him against a shelf.

“You’re gonna let me do what I want to do next, even if you want to save it for a “special night”. Tonight's about you Frankie.” You bring your hands to the hem of his jeans, cupping your hand around his cock. Always so swollen.

“Fuck sweet girl, I’ve imagined so much with you lately, I need your hands on me- please.” He begs.

You sink to your knees, bracing to open his jeans and unleash his cock. You’ve never seen it, you’re nervous, but what you’ve felt makes your mouth water. You shimmy his jeans down his legs, kissing his stomach, adoring his happy trail. His whole body succumbs to you immediately, kissing every rough patch of skin, every freckle, every section of skin open to you. You notice his legs are covered in tattoos.

The dark ink on his golden skin making you hornier than ever.

The second you meet his boxers, his cock twitches.

“Can I?” You look up, bracing your hands at the edge of his boxers.

“You’re gonna kill me sweet girl. A man’s gotta beg for a girl like you to be touchin my cock?”

With his needy confirmation, you bring them down, revealing every inch. Your brain plummeted. It was so big, and thick. Hair at his base surrounding his cock, and your mouth couldn’t stop watering.

You wish you could skip this part and immediately crawl over him, pushing every inch into your pussy, closing in so tight you both can’t move.

The more you looked at his cock, the more it grew in size, the wetter you became. You could feel the liquid oozing out of you. Still, who knew you could want to suck a man so bad, but it is Frankie Morales.

“It’s big, really big Frankie.” You choke.

“What darlin? Cat bite your tongue? Those googly eyes like what they see?” He falters.

Instantaneously, you swirl up spit in your mouth and spit on his tip, bringing your thumb to his head, mixing your spit and pre-cum together.

He seethes through his teeth, the movement happening too fast he had to hold onto a rail.

He looks down, “Taste us together, go on, pretty girl. I know you want to.”

You take your thumb up to your mouth. It tasted almost sweet, of course coming from Frankie. This made you crave more. You hum in the taste, swallowing every last drop.

“Look at you dirty girl, already licking cum. I bet that pussy is aching to feel me again huh?” You nod. “Get those fingers wet from your leaking pussy, I wanna taste.”

You do as you’re told, shoving your hand so fast in your pants to relive the prevalent ache in your core. Tonight is about Frankie. Dick what brain needs to go away.

He bends slightly to lick your fingers, “Sweeter than candy angel, fuck. Such a good girl.” He swallows what’s given to him.

Catching him by suprise, you spit along his dick, wrapping your hand around him, “You’ve been so good to me Frankie, making me squirt, making my pussy feel full with these thick fingers.” You bring his hands to your head, making his hands wrap full of hair, “Now fucking face fuck me, use my mouth.”

In double time, he grabs a hold of your hair in both of his hands, violating your face with his cock, spreading your mouth so wide, you can feel your jaw tick.

The sound of his cock relentlessly hitting the back of your throat made you want more, you wanted every ounce of cum inside his shaft to fill you up in every hole.

“Is this what you wanted from the start, just to suck me off pretty girl? You could’ve just asked nicely.” He growls.

You push away for a second, sending a popping sound. The spit from your mouth covering your lower face, dripping onto your clothes, “Why would I do that when you’ve been dying to cum down my throat?” You raise your eyebrows, “Just stating the fucking obvious Fish.”

He snarls, grabbing your face, you thought your body would give out, but you love it. Your body is opening up to him so easily, it’s simple biology. This is what you wanted for him. You knew he was so stressed, and letting him see the stars could make your heart have an orgasm too.

His cock continues to swell in your mouth, globs of pre-cum and spit are dripping all down your face, tears falling down. You reach the base of his cock for some time, nose nested into his hair. You move your face around his cock, angling it inside your mouth so it can reach deeper down your throat.

You reach your hands to touch his balls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- babygirl-.” He groans.

You pull off, “Is this okay, is it too much?”

“No, no- so good- so- fuck- you’re gonna make me cum in you like that.” His legs spasm.

“That’s the goal.” You chuckle.

You continue to bob, up and down his perfect cock, rubbing his balls. You bring them to your lips, moaning, hoping the vibration will send him over the edge. His body reacted perfectly, you couldn't believe your ears when he started to slightly whimper, it was too much for him.

“Oh my god- baby- keep doing that-- shit-.” He yells. “Such a good fucking girl.”

He forces your face up and down a few more pushes, and finally a thick sweet substance is flowing down your throat and you can’t get enough. You moan louder, draining his dick for everything he has. You can see the whites of his eyes, his strong hands bracing your skull, your tongue never leaving his cock.

“Come up baby, let me see your face.” He whispers. You didn’t want to breathe, you wanted to stay stuffed from him. His cock started to go soft in your mouth, but you didn’t want to detach from him.

He breaks free from you, breathing together in sync, “You’re gonna be the death of me, pretty girl.” He falls to the ground holding you on the ground. Laying limp against the shelves in the closet. “My beautiful sweet dirty girl.”

“Your beautiful sweet dirty girl?” You ask. Your heart is completely unsolicited and open to the question, “Am I yours, Fish?”

“Baby girl,” He holds you tighter, “You always have been. Since I saw you getting your dorm room that night. You saw me looking down at you, remember? And the bathroom?”

“I do remember, your memory is impeccable.” Kiss.

“Since the orientation meeting.” Kiss. “I brought in Timothée for you, I needed someone I trusted to see how talented you are.” Kiss.

“He kinda slipped up at the end of class that day and told me how you felt. I couldn’t see it then because you were so closed off with me.” You reveal.

“Of course that boy did.” He grumbles. “I was closed off with you because I didn’t want to scare you away, I didn’t want this to be dead before it started.”

“Hey, he didn’t mean to. Don’t give him a rough time. I think because of him, we’re in this very spot right now.” Kiss. “And your death scare makes you really fucking hard to read.” You giggle.

“Oh whatever,” He clicks his tongue, “But since your monologue, since I heard your beautiful voice singing Caroline Polachek. Fuck, ever since I heard about that fucking bitch Nina talkin to you.”

“You know?”

“Of course I know. When we were all talking about who would get Lady Macbeth, Pope, um Mr. Garcia, told us what was going on. She’s been a headache ever since she’s been a freshman, and her father can get fucking lost.”

“Yeah during my audition, she got to me, deeper than I thought. It made me actually cry during my scene though.”

“Oh sweetheart, fuck. I’m sorry I was so cold to you. I wish you could’ve come to me after that.” “No, Frankie, it was the both of us.” You nestle to him closer.

“Up on that stage, I can’t take my eyes off you. You captured us all so much, we all immediately knew you’d get the part. You’ve been broadway ready for ages. Those questions we all asked you were like a bullshit follow up if you’re askin me,” He kisses your head, “And if Nina Wyatt ever gets close to you or your friends, tell me.” He adds darkly.

“But the nightclub.” He holds your face, “That night was when I knew I never wanted anyone else. Seeing you dance on that stage, your dress, your skin in the lighting, your smile spreadin all across your face. My heart is fucked.”

You wish you could have done something about this sooner, every time after you’ve been with him you have to fucking overthink and question every action.

“I’m afraid.” You shiver.

“I know, you’re such a smart girl. So smart for weighing out your options. That kind of yours, always thinkin about everyone. If you wanna back out for any circumstance I understand. There’s so much to risk. For the both of us. But I’m done hiding away from the risks, m’not gonna lose you because of some people talking online.”

“Deuxmoi has it out for me, literally.”

“Let them find you, I don’t care.” He murmurs in your ear. Playing with your hair.

You knew this was Frankie giving his heart to you. If he continued any more, you would’ve burst into tears, he’s all you’ve been looking for your entire life. This feeling consumes you. You need him to know how you feel.

“I couldn’t, Frankie. I could never leave you. I was just scared you were seeing someone else and I don’t want my issues to mess with anything.”

“Darlin, it’s okay. I want you to know, you can have access to anything. I want to give you my world, want you to feel safe no matter what. And you don’t have ‘issues’ gorgeous, you’re human and that’s okay.”

You’ve never had a man, especially an older man, say words to you that resonated with your heart so deeply. How did your worlds suddenly align?

After your mom and dad, you would never stay with a man through abuse, or if he cheated on you. And you pray to fucking god Frankie would never hurt you. God left you a long time ago, but you would pray that you were enough for him.

You felt that eventually, you’d tell Frankie about your life, you’d tell him about the things that have happened to you. And hopefully you’d meet his friends and family, and hear about his life. Hear about Spain and his travels. But right on now, you want to create a life with him.

“Then I’m forever yours.” You graze his lips, you can feel his heart beating so fast, you don’t know who fell eachother first.

——-

previous || next

this is caroline polacheks opera song and tbh as a chorus person im not too deep into opera, but this is really damn good and how the hell does she hit those damn notes

[fangirl-everythang]

Last Nerve H.S

Summary: Harry x Reader; Harry chooses a particularly rough day to be extra clingy leading to some events...

Warnings: Swearing, Oral Sex, Sex, Spit

Word Count: 1530

Today was not the fucking day. It started this morning when Harry decided my sleep was more important than my 8 am board meeting, so he turned off the alarms. All of them. And guess who was late to one of the MOST important days of their career. That's right you guessed it, me.

Not only that but he's just constantly clinging to me from the moment I woke up in a panic to the moment I stepped foot through the door. I couldn't even take my shoes off without him near me. I love him but Jesus fuck.

I groan as I hear the handle in the bathroom giggle. "Yes, Harrold?" I huff. 

"I just wanted to see you love."

"You've seen me literally all day" I sigh opening the door. "Actually, no I haven't." He smiles cheekily rubbing my side. I just roll my eyes and pad back to the bedroom. Unbuttoning my top and tugging my pants down. "How was work?" He asks from the bed.

"How do you think it was Harry?" Attitude prominent in my tone as I switch my shirt.

"Not bad?" He questions. I huff in annoyance as I turn to go downstairs but none the less, he follows. "So, was it bad?"

I just nod patience with him thinning incredibly fast. "Like bad or bad bad?"

"Bad bad Harry." He pouts and embraces me. "And all better now?"

Walk away. Walk away. "I'm gonna go pick dinner up, do you want anything?" He frowns "Why are you leaving to go pick the pizza up when they deliver?" He ask.

"I need the walk." And with that I head out before he can get another sound out.

-----25minutes later----

I think I'm okay. For now at least. Putting my key in the door and carrying the semi cold pizza in the other, I know one of two things may have happened when I left. The first being that he is mad or he's waiting. And I hope it's the first option.

"There you are, I thought you got lost." He sighs in relief.

"Its only three blocks away please calm your titties." He grins and I can't help but to smile back.

The pizza isn't half bad and where do you go wrong with old Friends re-runs. After we finish the show is still playing but Harry isn't paying it nearly as much attention as the hand he's holding. " You know I love you."

"I know Harrold." He just pouts

"You don't love me?" He asks pulling me into his lap discarding the remote.

"I do Harry, I really do but and I mean this in the nicest possible way, you're getting on my last nerve today."

He chuckles and points to himself, "Me? getting on your last nerve?" The aura in the room shifts, his eyes a deeper shade of green. Going to move from his lap he just places his hand on my hip.

"Where do you think you're going darling?" Before I could speak he just continues playing with my panty line.

"You know technically... " he says slowly with lingering hands. I feel my body shudder as his long fingers brush over my clit. "This is your last nerve." He continues rubbing the small nub through my panties, "I don't know about getting on it per say, but I'm sure there are other things I could do." When he halts his movements a whine escapes my lips with a sudden urge for him to make me cum. "Harry don't be a tease please."

"Tell me what you want y/n." He says smirking. "Shirt off Harrold." He grips the bottom of my shirt "nuh-uh Haz" he looks at me confused. "Yours." He quickly pulls his shirt over his head exposing his beautifully tatted body. I can feel my pussy dripping, but he knows better. Grabbing my shirt, I slowly take it off as he lets out an animalistic growl. Pulling my panties down while he watches I make my way to the arm of the couch as he hurriedly removes his pants and lays in front of me. Spreading my legs I run a finger through my folds he looks at me hungrily. Before I could speak to taunt him his lips where on my pussy .

"Fuck Harry, I didn't tell you to do that." I say between pants. He moans continuing to bury himself between my legs showing no mercy. His tongue teasing my hole. A string of moans and curse words leaving my lips and right now I'm praising this couch. He loops his arms around my thighs holding me in place as he continues to devour me, leaving no part of me untouched. Leaning on my elbows to watch him I feel myself nearing my edge as he looks at me. The sounds his mouth is making against my vagina is unholy for sure. He takes his thumb and presses random patterns onto my nub and I'm done for. My hands pulling his hair as my thighs clench around his head moaning out his name. He keeps kitten licking me as I come down from my high. "Harry." He raises an eyebrow while looking at my swollen labia "hmm?"

"Kiss me." He complies kissing me with force. I can taste myself on him as he pushes his tongue in my mouth. His hand comes up to my throat applying pressure not too much but enough to make me want more. He forces my head up, "open your mouth darling, and don't you fucking close it. Got it?" I nod expecting him to stand and put his dick in my mouth but boy was I wrong. He inserts two fingers into my mouth and as I begin to suck them he pinches my bum " I said don't close that pretty fucking mouth." He says putting more pressure on my tongue. He looks like he's contemplating something before I could question it I feel something sliding down my throat.

My thighs clench together almost instantly. Its nasty but he makes it so hot, his spit gliding down my throat I swallow it as if it were my own. "Good girl." He takes his thumb and wipes my chin. Pulling me back down to the couch level. Looking at his throbbing length, his tip is so pink leaking with precum. I reach between us and line him up with my entrance. He runs his tip through my folds tapping my clit with it. "Am I getting on your last nerve y/n?" He whispers. "Are you Harry?" I ask before attacking the spot just below his ear, leaving a reminder for the both of us.

Grabbing his length and pushing him into me I begin moving my hips as he lets out the sexist moan in my ear. "So wet y/n" he grunts pushing into me all the way almost leaving me breathless.

"So tight" he moans as I clench around him. He feels so good inside of me. Rhythm of his own being made as he speeds up his thrust. He dips his head on my shoulder and attacks my collar bone with kisses sure to leave very visible marks all over. The pleasure from his lips sending my senses into overdrive but I need him to come first. Reaching up to kiss him it's just teeth clattering and moans being exchanged.

"You fuck me so good Harry." I whisper in his ear as he gives out a particularly hard thrust causing both of us to moan loudly, hitting a spot that has dots fading into my vision.

"M'gonna cum baby" he tells me as I tighten around him he pushes into me reaching around to rub my clit, I quickly grab his hand and lace our fingers together as he bites down hard filling me with his cum pushing through sloppy thrust. Once he finishes, he looks up at me.

"You didn't cum." He frowns. I grab his cheeks and softly kiss him.

" I don't think you know how hard it was for me not to cum again." He looks at me skeptically, " and why is that?" he ask placing little kisses on my breast. "You'll see if you ever take your dick out of me." He smirks and roughly grabs my jaw, " Your pussy's mine." He slowly pulls out watching our arousal drip out of me "fuck y/n" He whispers.

"Finish me off Harry, use it." He smiles at my request "You're such a dirty girl for me aren't you princess" He leans down and runs his tongue over the bruise he left on me as his fingers gather our mixture and he spreads it on my clit. He rubs fast circles edging me on using his middle and ring finger he pumps them nearly knuckle deep, occasionally brushing over my g-spot, whispering sweet nothings in my ears. My orgasm ripples through my body sending me into a world of pure bliss. Coming down from this high left me panting he just smirks at me, playing with the arousal that now adorns my thighs.

"look at the mess you've made darling"

A/N: Long time no see, well I have said that I wanted to get back into writing so here you are my loves. I wanted to disclose that this is also on my Wattpad ( fangirl_everythang) which contains more of my work that I’ll be posting. I figured I could reach a bigger audience this way but the nerves are wrecking me; I’ve heard so many stories about authors getting their work taken. It’s heart breaking and makes it all that much more scarier.   I'm not too sure how I feel about this smut scene but I do think it embodies Harrold pretty well😊 Anyways let me know how you guys like it, or if you don’t. (I take request as well)

xoxoJanelle

[getitinbusan]

Strawberry Lemonade

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+

Even if you could decide, why would you want to? Both men were perfect in extremely different ways yet, your longing for both of them was beginning to feel greedy.

Pairing: Reader x Tae x Jungkook

Words: 3850

Warnings: 18+ threesome, MF vaginal sex, MF anal sex, MF oral sex, unprotected sex, swearing.

You weren't technically staff, it was a loophole that benefited everyone. While the crew stayed in coach, you were up front with Jungkook as he helped stash your camera equipment into the first class overhead. In 7 hours you'd be in Bali for a week in paradise.

"Y/N's sitting with me, she already promised." Taehyung pulled your hand towards the middle aisle.

Pouting, Jungkook popped his air pods in and took his seat.

It was a competition, pure and simple. Like a new shiny toy Jungkook and Taehyung both wanted you. Everyone knew and the game of one upmanship was getting a little out of control. But somehow, caught in the middle wasn't such a bad place to be.

Dim and quiet most of the plane was already asleep. Taehyung snored softly as you wiggled out from underneath his heavy grasp. You didn't want to disturb him but the days makeup needed to come off before you settled in for the night.

Taken by surprise, Jungkook stood with a smile waiting outside when you opened the bathroom door.

"I think we need to talk about something." He guided you back into the tiny room.

"What's that Kookie?"

His lips parted before he quickly pressed them onto yours. His hands were still holding your face as he broke away.

"I see the way you look at me and I think you want me just as much as I want you."

You loved being playful with Jungkook, teasing him was definitely a turn on.

"I'm keeping my options open." You wanted to sound taunting, but your hand slowly dragging down his chest let him know he was going to get whatever he was after.

His mouth moved over your neck as his fingers worked their way under your light t-shirt. His thumbs caressing the soft flesh just above the elastic of your waistband sent a gush of excitement to your panties.

"I want you so badly."

Pulling your pants to the floor he lifted you onto the small counter.

His finger slid into you easily.

"Does Taehyung get you this wet?"

"He's never tried. Should I let him?"

"I'm not afraid of a little competition Y/N."

His track pants came down with a quick tug and his hard cock sprang out. Stepping back towards you for a heated kiss his erection pressed against your sopping center. His length was more than you'd expected and you couldn't stand the anticipation any longer.

"Do you know how hard it's been to work with you for weeks and not get to touch you?"

Grasping his cock he held it straight to line himself up with your entrance.

"Uh huh," he nodded. "I've had to keep requesting baggy clothes to hide my chronic hard on."

He pushed himself into you letting out a long slow moan as his head fell back. Leaning into the mirror you pulled him in closer wrapping your legs around his hips.

Knees bent, he adjusted his height to pump himself into you. It wasn't sweet or slow, it was a mile high, hard quickie that had been a long time in the making.

Helping you down he wrapped you in his arms and kissed you while smiling. "I promise when we have more room i'm going to lay you out across a bed and make you cum so hard that mines the only name you're going to remember"

"That's pretty cocky considering you just spent the last 5 minutes only satisfying yourself." You straightened your clothes, "But I guess I could give you another shot."

You left him where he stood, red faced and pants down in the washroom.

Taehyung stirred as you layed out your blankets.

"Bedtime?"

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He hummed in pout, "Come back and cuddle with me."

He held up his blanket in invitation and you slid in beside him.

Settling in he was now wide awake and staring endearingly. "I really like you." He smiled brightly at his own admission.

You pushed his shaggy hair off his forehead. "I really like you too Tae."

Somewhere at 35,000 feet in dead of the night you found yourself tangled in lips and limbs with the soft boy.

Where Jungkook had left you wanting more Tae picked up the slack with long lingering kisses and slow moving hands.

His nimble fingers played at your entrance before he plunged one inside, "You're so wet"

Pulling it back out he raised it to his mouth and unknowingly sucked off the mixture of your excitement and Jungkook's cum.

"Taehyung, I want you."

"Yeah?" he ran his finger over your lip before he kissed you again, "flip over for me."

To anyone walking by it would look like you were spooning, slow movements and subdued noises would be the only tell. One hand expertly stroked your clit as the other held steady trapping the moans inside your mouth.

Jungkook sat the next row over listening intently to Taehyung's heavy breaths and the uncontainable whimpers of climax he'd drawn out of you. Mad at himself for his purely selfish attempt with you, he stuck his airpods in and drifted off.

With the group shots finished you'd called a break for everyone but Jungkook.

"You're up first for individuals handsome."

He smiled as the others turned to leave. "Where are we shooting?"

Slinging the camera bag over your shoulder you started to walk away. "Your room."

Once the door was pulled closed he swept you into his arms. "Is this my second chance?"

"We've got a job to do Jungkook, maybe if I get a good shot and we have some time I'll consider it."

He threw his hands up in defeat, "Let's get this picture out of the way then."

"Good, go get in your pool."

Taking your dress off you hoped the added incentive of your bikini would motivate him. Playful and sexy it was the quickest shoot you'd ever done.

"I think I got what I need." You pulled yourself out of the pool and set the camera on the concrete.

"I don't think you did. Not from me anyways."

Legs dangling in the water you kicked some towards him.

"Whose fault is that?"

He pulled his wet shirt over his head and tossed it on the deck.

"Mine, and I'm sorry. I just wanted you so badly."

His hands found their way to your hips and he tugged on your bottoms.

"A little help here?"

You couldn't help but laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck you lifted yourself up so he could slide them off you.

"Let me make it up to you?"

He kissed you, softer this time, more intently.

"How much time do I have?"

"About 20 minutes…"

He raised his brow accepting the challenge. "Then you should lay back."

Sinking to his shoulders in the water his face took residence between your thighs. "So beautiful," he said before sliding his tongue inside you.

It felt like heaven, you couldn't help but tug at his hair as his mouth strategically worked to get you off.

"Are you done yet?" The unfazed voice came from the doorway.

Jungkook's hands held your thighs firmly open when he felt you trying to instinctively clamp them shut.

His eyes flicked up at Taehyung.

"Almost, do you want to stick around and see what it looks like when she cums?"

What was even happening right now? reaching for your dress you wiggled from Jungkook's hands and covered yourself.

Jungkook's tongue now finding itself restless and aggravated poked angrily into his cheek.

He scoffed, "Thanks, I've already seen it. It doesn't look like you're going to get her there anyway."

Taehyung turned, ignoring him completely unfazed. "I wanted to see if I could take you to dinner after you're done working."

Jungkook was visibly angry, "Maybe you should stop monopolizing her and let her spend some time with me without interrupting"

"You two are acting like children, let me know when you're done." Getting up and grabbing your things you left.

Laying out in the sun as they swam nearby, they had unknowingly made a decision for you.

The waitress walked towards you with three frosty glasses on her tray. One was Red, one was Yellow and one was Pink.

“The gentlemen argued about which you’d like more, Strawberry or Lemonade.” She smiled, “they ended up compromising and ordering you a half and half.”

The condensation pooled onto the table as she set them down. Looking in their direction she raised her eyebrow at you knowingly, “Why choose one when you can have both, am I right?”

You'd always thought it had to be one or the other.

Taehyung was Strawberry 🍓

Classic, comforting, consistent. The sweetness of red stained lips and warm hugs that felt like home. Fresh air that made you sleepy while laundry hung on the line. Your Grandmother’s kitchen filled with memories and knowing you were safe.

Jungkook was Lemonade 🍋

Even if you knew what to expect, it always stunned you. A surprise tang that made everything feel like you were a kid on a summer day again. Bright yellow sunshine that permeated your eyelids making your body feel electric, alive and invincible.

But she was right why not have both?

The sunshine felt good on your skin. The decision had lightened your mind and as the waves broke on the shore you were lulled into an unguarded slumber.

If the whispers and stifled giggles hadn't given them away their shadows blocking out the sunshine through your eyelids would have.

"I don't know what you two think you're going to do, but you probably shouldn't."

Raising your hand to shield your face you carefully cracked your eyelids open.

Jungkook stood by your feet, water droplets glistening over his body.

"We wanted to apologise for yesterday." Placing his hand on the back of his neck his usual confidence wavered.

Taehyung laid down and pulled you into a wet bear hug. "We've decided to be mature about this, whoever you decide to pick we'll have no hard feelings."

"What if I don't want to pick, what if I want both of you?"

By the looks on their faces they clearly weren't expecting that as your answer.

"I don't need you to make a decision right away. I'm going to my room so you two can think about it."

Grabbing your drink you smiled and walked away.

Leaving the door unlocked you knew it wouldn't take long for their erections to override their brains. There was a light rapping on the door before the handle turned.

"We came to an agreement and we think that we would probably be okay sharing you."

Taehyung spoke while Jungkook stood blushing.

"But we want to know, how will it work?"

Jungkook cut in, "I think we need rules so we both get equal attention."

Walking closer to Jungkook you knew he'd been feeling neglected.

"Listen, sometimes one of us will need something and sometimes ALL of us will need something…"

You kissed his lips. "Right now I need something from both of you."

You pulled Tae in closer.

"You interrupted the other day and Jungkook never got me off. So the ground rules will come after I do."

Both their jaws were slack and they stood staring not knowing where to even begin.

"Are we good with this arrangement?" To help seal the deal you had a hand on each of them rubbing their growing bulges as they nodded.

"Can I make you cum first? I feel so bad about the other day."

Taehyung snickered.

"I don't know why that's so funny Tae, it's your fault for interrupting. It certainly wasn't from his lack of skill."

You moved your hand away from him and lifted Jungkook's shirt off.

"So, since I didn't get to cum because of you, you don't get to cum until Jungkook has taken care of me."

Used to be in charge, he didn't know what to do or where to be.

"Take your clothes off and sit in that chair, you're going to have to watch."

Jungkook undid the top of your bikini while you let the bottoms fall to your feet. Pulling down his shorts you walked him to the bed. "I need you to finish what you started."

Once again he spread your legs, however, this time it was a performance with an audience and he had a point to prove.

Making sure his Hyung could see everything he began to lay big soft tongue kisses over your excited entrance.

"Fuck Jungkook, I haven't been able to stop thinking about your mouth."

He was skilled. Between his tongue, his lips and his fingers your thighs shook uncontrollably. You looked towards Taehyung, he was watching intently with dark hungry eyes while stroking himself. His lips were parted and heavy breaths escaped everytime his hand moved over his tip.

"I think Taehyung wants a turn Kookie."

Jungkook didn't miss a beat. "He can lick my cum out of you when I'm finished."

"Jungkook, if you can't share you're going to have to leave."

He huffed, so used to getting his way. "You've only got one cunt."

"I do, and if you both want to stay you're both going to lick it."

Jungkook pulled away and flopped on the bed. "Fine, let me know when it's my turn again."

Dipping your finger inside yourself then running it around your lips you teased him, "Tae, do you want some?"

Taehyung grinned, his huge cock stood stiff and straight as he walked over to lay between your legs.

Dragging his finger through your wetness he slowly sank it inside you. Like he was starved he attached his mouth to you, his tongue dancing over your clit, slowly, softly, deliberately. Taehyung did nothing without purpose and his purpose was very clear.

"Holy shit."

Your hands reached to grip the sheets but Jungkook's thigh was closer.

He was staring, watching your face wrecked with pleasure.

"Please Kookie, I want you both so badly."

Shifting down the bed he filled the remaining space between your legs.

Taehyung coaxed him, "Not everything has to be a competition between us."

His fingers delicately opened you wide, "think of it more like choreo, working together."

Wrapping his lips around your aroused bud he sucked softly.

"Let's make this about her."

Their tongues worked in tandem just adjacent to your pleasure point. Their timidness could easily be mistaken for teasing if you didn't know how nervous they both were to be together in such intamacy.

"Please I need this," you couldn't help but beg desperately. 

Without looking at each other their tongues explored further meeting tentatively in the middle to combine their efforts. Inhibitions forgotten, the grander pursuit of ecstasy took over reason and apprehension. 

Their mixed saliva dripped down to where Taehyung's finger was circling around you seeking permission to enter. 

"Your ass is so tight, I'm calling dibs."

Sliding back up beside you he looked like a man possessed. Dark eyes stared into your soul as his fingertips rolled your nipples. 

He ran his nose up your neck and practically hissed, "Can I fuck it?" 

"uh huh." was all you could muster. 

Standing up he grabbed something from his shorts on the floor and moved back towards the chair. "Why don't you come sit on my lap?" 

You tugged Jungkook's hair trying to get his attention, "Change in position baby." 

He sloppily kissed up your stomach, over your breasts and his lips lingered along your jawline. His hard cock was pressed against your leg as he wiggled his hips in search of relief. 

His warm breath tickled your neck as he sighed, "I'm not going to stop until I make up for the quickie." 

His fingers slid inside you while his mouth latched onto your peaked nipple. Suckling as he pumped between your legs he whispered. "I'm want to make you cum so hard." 

The lurid sound of your wetness filled the air as your body squirmed in stimulation. "I'm gonna cum, don't stop, please …" 

His hand moved faster, your orgasm exploding, breaching its bodily confines as you cried out his name in satisfaction. 

Taking a minute to let you come down he got up, pulling you with him. 

Taehyung sat waiting with a smile, condom already stretched over his impressive cock. About to straddle him Jungkook turned you around. 

"You're gonna face me okay." 

"Okay"

He steadied you as you backed toward Tae. Placing your feet to squat on either side of his hips you lowered yourself towards his waiting shaft. 

"Have you done this before?" Taehyung's honey voice dripped into your ear. 

You nodded blushing.

"Of course you have my dirty girl." 

He pushed up and you pushed down, his tip sliding through the tight ring.

Your mouth open, and head back it was a painful adjustment. Jungkook stood staring at your breasts, your arched back making them sit pert on your chest. 

Walking closer, his cock stood pink, weepy and desperate for release while he stroked it. 

Adjusting your grip on the arm rest Taehyung began thrusting into the new more relaxed angel, deep moans rolling out of him like thunder. 

"Now you Jungkook." You pleaded, "I want you both at the same time." 

Jungkook's face was flush, overwhelmed with the scenario unfolding before him. 

"Just focus on me Jungkook, on how much my pussy is aching for you to fill it." 

His breath shook as he balanced his knees on the small remaining chair space. His tip, lingering at your entrance teased the wet folds driving your anticipation crazy. 

Waiting for his turn to jump in, he was trying to match Taehyung's rhythm like a sordid game of double dutch. 

In and out and in and out and oh god when he was finally in. 

Their dropped inhibitions along with the feeling of them thrusting into you in unison was almost too much to bear. Rubbing against your thin wall that lay between them, they must be able to feel it? Head to head their cocks pressing together in your sexual vice. 

The thought of their intimacy combined with their collective moans under you and over you made your skin shiver in ecstasy. 

 "Is this what you wanted? Both of us stuffed inside you?" 

Taehyung was eager with his words. Expletives and praise fell off his tongue in equal measure. 

"Once Jungkook makes that pretty pussy cum again I want you to finish both of us in your mouth." 

Jungkook was biting his lip, still fucking you with a determined concentration. As sweat built over his warm skin Taehyung lay back and wrapped his arms around your thighs. Pulling your knees back he spread you wider for his friend. 

"Lean in and fuck her deeper."

Ever the Maknae, Jungkook listened to his Hyung and ground himself into you slowly until he bottomed out inside your wet wonderland.  Your body shook with pleasure as your cunt pulsated, your second orgasam so close. 

Letting go of your leg Taehyung put his thumb to Jungkook's mouth. 

"Open," he commanded. 

Jungkook licked and sucked the digit until it was pulled hastily from his greedy mouth. Letting his hand wander to the space between you Taehyung rubbed the wet appendage roughly over your clit. 

It only took seconds, the sound of your own pleasured cries ringing through your head as the white lightning orgasm tore through and took over your body. 

Both men lay still enveloping you, Jungkook's face scrunching in concentration as he tried to discourage his own imminent release. 

Tae's soft smiling lips kissed the back of your glistening neck as Jungkook carded his hand gently through your hair brushing it back off your face. Hovering over your mouth his lips skimmed over yours, "Do you think you can finish us baby?"

You didn't have much energy but you nodded knowing that whatever was left you'd use it all to please them however they wanted. 

Jungkook stood and taking your hand helped lift you to the floor. Quickly throwing his condom aside Taehyung joined, wrapping his arms around you. Both men were attentive and grateful yet still acutely unsatisfied. Their lips and hands travelled over you appreciatively while their cocks stood begging for attention. 

Sinking to your knees their half moans half exhales spurred your enthusiasm to please them. 

Taking Jungkook in your mouth you could taste yourself all over him. Your sticky excitement was built up around his balls and you licked it off as he watched intently. 

Your hand slid up and down Tae's shaft easily with the lube left behind from the condom. They were equally thick and perfect, you couldn't help but smile up at them pleased with your choice to take them both.

"Fuck you're beautiful with a cock in your mouth." Tae purred while pumping himself into your grip. 

"Want to see what yours looks like?" 

He didn't have to answer, you gripped onto Jungkook and let your mouth take Tae. 

Alternating between them, rubbing and sucking back and forth they took turns having their way with your face. The breathing got heavier and they were getting greedy with your mouth. Gripping them both, your hands grasped tightly and pumped them until they were whining. 

"Where do you want it?" Jungkook asked urgently. Wrapping his own hand around his length he spurt his hot load into your open waiting mouth and proceeded to stand looking dazed as you turned towards Taehyung. 

"Are you gonna swallow that?"

You looked up with big eyes, mouth open and shook your head no while holding Jungkook's load on your tongue. 

A Few furious strokes later Taehyung came undone, filling the rest of your mouth with his salty excitement. 

Gripping your chin, his thumb caressed your jaw. "What are you waiting for?" 

Getting off your knees you stood to meet their gaze, swallowed and smiled. "Sometimes things taste better combined." 

The last day was quiet, you'd not spoken to either man since yesterday's trist. Bags were packed, passports were lost and located and staff scurried around making sure everything was in order. Your mind was left to wander. You'd hoped the lack of communication was from exhaustion and not embarrassment, you didn't regret a thing.  

Separate cars rolled into the airport and you stood by yourself not wanting to make them uncomfortable in case they indeed had doubts over what had happened. 

Deep into your twitter feed you felt a warm arm wrap around your waist. Jungkook smiled shyly, "I was hoping you'd sit with me this time. You know keep things equal." 

Walking over Taehyung raised his eyebrows at the both of you, "I have a better idea." He held out three new boarding passes, "I got us our own cabin."

THANK YOU FOR READING 💜

If you enjoyed this, please consider following or reblogging.

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[honeymoonjin]

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

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

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

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It’s a day off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

“Hungry?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink in surprise. “We?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

From the moment you set out, picking up one of the high-vis flags from reception on your way, you knew exactly what type of tour you were going to do. It had been a paid tour last year on Valentine’s Day, one of your personal favourites, because the story of it was centred around the more romantic aspects of nature; toucans and parrots in colourful pinks and reds, monkeys that curled their tails into a heart when they intertwined with another (you’d yet to see it actually happen in front of a tour group, but the fact alone was often enough to make them coo) and finally a meadow just on the edge of the river that, because of the plants and flowers that grew there, became a hotspot for about twelve different species of butterflies.

You’d been able to lose yourself in the vibrancy of nature for the past hour and a half, stopping regularly for drink breaks, chatting with the different couples on your tour. It was always special to you hearing what brought them to Cuyabeno, and you were known amongst your colleagues for always running overtime on your tours because you just loved getting to know the people on your tour, and making their adventure into the rainforest special for them.

It wasn’t until your first boot fell down onto the lush grass of the meadow that you knew you fucked up in choosing this tour route. As the eight people behind you gasp and gush about the magical bank, you freeze, your mind exploding into a silver stream of jimin jimin jimin jimin jimin ji-

“Woah, there’s so many of them!”

Stepping forward to encourage the tourists to spill into the meadow, you look around you at the flurry of motion. On one side of the group are the looming trees from whence you emerged; opposite that, the murky jade green of the river, barely lapping at the narrow bank, but glittering a sharp silver below the early afternoon sun. And in between is where the real wonder lies.

Shifting and darting, the air is alive with the vibrant array of butterflies, abundant as falling snow. The group is awash with awe as some stay perfectly still, hoping for the small creatures to land upon them, while others stir their arms gently through the air, watching the butterflies part and eddy around them like fish in a stream.

This had always been the reason the Valentine’s tour was your favourite; almost every other route took you in the opposite direction, since the other side of the island was where most of the river’s inhabitants were. So many tourists wanted to see as many animals as possible with the least amount of walking, and the tip of the island where you stood now was a long walk from camp.

You’d even come here once or twice with solo travellers, since they had more patience than a hustling group, and the magic of it never got old. Just last Christmas your boss, Angelo, had gifted you tinkling windchimes for your hut; instead, you had taken them down here.

There wasn’t much of a breeze now, so the delicate notes of glass and ceramics were quiet in the background, but they added to the feel of peace and serenity that you could tell all of the tourists were feeling, no matter their age. The Northern Americans had formed a group, pointing out the different species and trying to count them off on their fingers. The elderly couple had a surprisingly modern Android phone out, using the man’s longer arms to take an extremely high-angled selfie. Closer to the lazy shallows of the river, one of the Spanish boys had picked a pale purple flower from the grass to offer to the other.

Surrounded by love and butterflies, you’d quite literally led yourself back to the thoughts of the one you had tried to distract yourself from.

Jimin. Jiminie.

You’re approached by the middle-aged parents, suggesting here might be a good place to break for snacks and a drink, and so you acquiesce, sinking down onto the pillowy grass of the meadow and wondering which of the graceful wings that danced in the sky belonged to a longwing erato.

--

You manage to spend the rest of your day on tours, making sure to go on those well-worn tracks far from the butterfly meadow, and by the time you turn in your reflective orange flag for the day, Jimin’s waiting on the porch with a backpack, a chunky flashlight, and a pair of binoculars dangling from a cord around his neck.

“Where were you?” he questions instead of a greeting, fiddling with the hem of his beige shorts.

You tilt your head in confusion, staring down at him. It occurs to you that he’s in your spot, the place you sat with your steaming mug every morning. In fact, as you stand over him, it’s like your roles are reversed from the first time you met. “I was working,” you reply simply.

“Oh.” He deflates a little, eyes staring past you at the now-silent campsite, all the lodgers having since returned to their huts for curfew. Only employees were allowed to be out after sunset most nights. The one exception was the occasional night-time tour, but given the additional risks involved, your boss jacked the price right up and there weren’t many takers. Jimin must’ve spoken with your boss to be allowed to roam around at night. He focuses back in on you, and perks up. “Are you ready, then?”

“To go butterfly hunting? Always.”

Rather than leading you to the meadow, Jimin consults an extremely detailed (and scribbled-on) map, forging into the forest along the centre of the island, instead of out either side towards the river. You follow along, marvelling at the new territory that even you haven’t really explored.

The two of you move in concentrated silence, Jimin methodically tying little cornflower blue ribbons to branches along the way. At one point, you slow to a stop, crouching as you make out two red flashes. Upon closer inspection, you recognise the lime-green body to belong to the red-eyed tree frog making its way down the wide trunk of a tree, clearly spooked by the light from Jimin’s flashlight.

You sigh in relief as it tucks itself away safely. Frogs, specifically tree frogs, were a good indicator for the type of habitat you were entering. The fact that it was a non-toxic species meant hopefully your companion wasn’t leading you into a pit of venomous and poisonous creatures. The island was pretty safe, for the most part, but you still had to exercise due caution, and it seemed Jimin was so focussed on his butterflies that he’d forgotten they weren’t the only ones in here.

A hushed whisper of your name and the returning of bright light is your only warning before an impatient hand slips into yours, tugging you up and deeper into the rainforest.

You’re too stunned to protest, simply letting Jimin lead you into the untamed wilderness. His palm is warm in yours, fingers interlocked. His hands are smaller than you expected, and even as he holds on tightly, so gentle. You can’t help but feel the care that emanates from him down to the smallest detail.

As the active hum of the rainforest’s creatures and the rustle of leaves and bushes surrounds you, you barely notice the slight incline of the ground beneath you, the only indicator being that over time your calves begin to ache slightly.

Every time you open your mouth to ask how far, or if you could take a break, you’re stopped by a soft squeeze to your hand. Even though he’s in front of you, looking ahead rather than back at you, he seems to know just when to reassure you.

The walk isn’t particularly challenging, nor is it too hot, but you find yourself short of breath anyway.

When the two of you finally come to a stop, he lets your hand go. The loss of pressure around your hand gives you a weird pang of disappointment, and you tuck your arms around yourself to make up for it.

“Do you know what the longwing erato looks like?” he asks in an excited whisper.

You shrug. “Long wings?”

His eyes crinkle before his smile joins them. “I mean, yes; they’re more of a stretched-out oval compared to the roughly squarish shapes that most butterflies have. They’re black, with one or more red stripes on each wing. Here; hold the flashlight and I’ll find some.”

He passes off his equipment to you and directs the beam of the flashlight to the lowest branches of the trees in front of you, still well above eye-level. Although you do your best to keep the light steady, you find yourself glancing over to Jimin, his mouth dangling unconsciously open as he puts all his focus into staring down the pair of binoculars he brought. His warm blonde hair has been pushed off his face with a stretchy fabric headband, exposing the smooth skin of his forehead and the furrowed arches of his brows, slightly darker than the rest of his hair.

“On the trees,” he mumbles, with a minute jerk of his elbow as a gesture.

You startle, correcting the slant of the torch beam that had slipped astray as you watched him. This time, you focus on the yellow moon of light that splays across the trunks of the trees instead of your companion. Flitting around, casting narrow shadows across the artificial rays, are various bugs and moths, the latter of which gradually migrate closer to you, seeking the source of the light. “Have you found them?” you question, upper arm starting to ache from being held up so long.

Jimin hums, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he lowers the binoculars, pointing high up into the branches. “There,” he declares quietly with an excited grin, “on the right side, they’re all up against the bark.”

You squint, trying to search for the red stripes, but you can’t find anything. “That middle tree?”

“Here,” letting the binoculars fall back around his torso, he steps up beside you, reaching across to lift the flashlight higher. “Just past that skinny branch there.”

Your breath catches in your throat. He’s close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating through his thin shirt. Close enough for you to hear the resonance of his focussed breath. Though he’s holding the flashlight, your fingers overlap slightly and you can feel the pressure of his thumb on your knuckles and his fingertips touching the side of your hand. “I-” you break off to swallow past the dryness in your throat, “I still don’t see them.”

Jimin lets out a laugh, barely more than breath. He tilts his head closer, so that your temples almost touch. Feeling the soft locks of his hair on your skin, your eyes widen and you suck in a breath unconsciously. With a hand on the flashlight still, he has to wrap the other around your shoulders, pointing in your line of sight. “Just focus,” he instructs gently. “Right side of the middle tree, see that tree frog? The brown one?”

You make a noise of agreement once you locate the slowly moving creature, higher up than you had been looking. “I see it.”

“Good.” Jimin’s warm tone of approval sends something rushing through you. In the moment of quiet, you become aware of the minute movement of Jimin’s thumb, rubbing against your knuckles. Your fingers tense on the metal of the flashlight, but Jimin doesn’t seem to notice, simply bring his other hand up higher, pointing further up the trunk. “They’re up here, see? Follow the tree up until you see the black patch. It looks like it’s moving. Can you see it?”

Your eyes widen. “I see it,” you breathe.

You feel rather than see the smile that puffs up his cheeks. “That’s them,” he says warmly, voice echoing in your air, quiet enough that it’s just for you. “Longwing erato. Must be at least fifty of them, all gathered up. You can even see some of the stripes when they shift around. Lift up your flashlight a bit, it won’t bother them, don’t worry.”

The two of you stay there, Jimin’s arms on either side of you, for an unreadable amount of time. With nothing but the warmth of his body and the vague drone of the various bugs and nocturnal critters to join you, it could be moments or it could be half an hour.

Either way, there reaches a point where a breeze in the air sends a shiver down your spine, and you think it might be time to go. Turning towards Jimin to let him know, you’re caught off-guard when he turns at the same time.

Your noses brush, and then you feel the silken touch of his lips on yours. Eye-to-eye, you stare at each other for a second that feels like eternity, before you finally come to your senses and jump back, inadvertently leaving him with the flashlight as you tear your hand away from his.

“I- Uh- Sorry, I-” Jimin seems unable to do anything but stammer, in a normal voice that seems harshly loud after the hush you’d been in.

“It’s okay,” you reply back, but your voice falls flat, just as unconvincing to you as it must be to him. “It was just an accident. Just a mistake.”

Cast in shadow as the beam of the flashlight points downwards, you can still see clear as day how his whole face changes at that, flinching like he’s been hit. Stumbling around with a stricken expression, he glances once at the flashlight in his hand, darts his eyes to you before looking over to the direction of forest you’d come from and finally back to the flashlight.

Your blood runs iron cold with dread. “Jiminie, don’t-”

Like something snaps, Jimin hesitates no longer, turning and dashing into the trees. You start after him for a few jogged steps, watching the frenzied beam shoot through the rainforest like a laser, getting smaller and smaller as the noise of his exit slowly fades away, leaving you marooned in a black ocean.

--

Those pastel pink ribbons are your saviours that night. It’s hard to pick them out when the shadows penetrate the rainforest so deeply. You squint before every step to watch out for animals or other living inhabitants that might be dangerous, and it’s probably nothing more than sheer luck that you manage to peek the slips of fabric on the branches regularly enough to lead you back to camp.

On the grounds themselves, you see lights on, not just the safety ones that illuminate the way to the toilets and kitchens, but also the warmer yellow tones that you recognise to be emanating from your hut itself. Jimin.

Even as you feel a tugging in your heart to go, you also find yourself unable to step closer. Jimin left you. He wouldn’t want you to approach him. Either you’d disgusted him or offended him or both, enough so that he literally ran from you, and the last thing you could handle right now was confrontation.

Instead, you inch around the outskirts, finding a familiar beaten path that leads to one of your favourite places on the island: an old, relatively abandoned lookout tower.

Tourists weren’t taken to this one, anymore, and all of your colleagues kept away too. A few months before you had begun working, they’d opened a new, sleeker, taller, safer lookout to compensate for the higher numbers of tourists they were getting. Sure, that one was great, and with a top made primarily of glass, it gave a gorgeous view.

But there was something… different about the older one that kept drawing you back. Perhaps it was the rustic feel; all dark woods, concrete and metal, fitted to one of the taller trunks for stability. It blended into the landscape. Over the years, as the trees had grown a bit taller, it no longer rose clean above the topiary, but nestled between branches, right in the midst of the foliage. It was a view you couldn’t get from above or below, and as you curl into the corner, back pressed against the ancient tree, you felt your blood pressure gradually decrease.

Unlike most places, you could be truly alone here. But never lonely. Quietly, you tuck your knees to your chest and watch as a margay cat slinks down a branch of a nearby tree, eyes glinting in the moonlight. This dense inside the topiary, it’s hard to make out much detail, but you can see the black leopard-like patches on its tan fur, the whiskers twitching as it sniffs your presence.

Shoulders hunched like it’s anticipating a loud noise, the wildcat appraises you, carefully winding around the trunk of a nearby tree to provide cover. Cute as it is, you wait until it leaps onto a further branch and disappears into the shadows before you lie down on your side and close your eyes.

--

Getting back to the camp takes a sizeable portion of your morning. Although the foliage had provided sufficient insulation, the nailed planks of the lookout turret were unforgiving, and you wake up the next morning with an unignorable twinge where your left shoulder meets your neck. Getting down the tight coiled staircase takes long enough; finding your way back to base while being unable to properly turn your head to look around you feels like an eternity.

It’s just as the ground below your feet evens out into well-trodden grass and you gingerly roll your shoulder for the nth time that you glance up to see the chaos that lies in front of you.

Countless tourists stand around, confused and gossiping, littered across the campground as your fellow employees rush and dart between them. Some of them are on bulky radio phones or walkie talkies, others packing what looks like expedition equipment.

But they only attract your attention for a moment. Like you’re magnetized, your eyes are immediately drawn to the two figures outside your hut. Standing with deep lines of concern on his tanned face is your boss, Angelo. Sat on the veranda beside him, wrapped in a blanket despite the early morning heat, is Jimin.

They haven’t seen you yet, no one has, and so you allow yourself a moment to silently observe them. Well. Observe him.

Jimin’s got his fists bundled up under his chin, pressing up his cheeks, yet he’s never looked more gaunt. His eyes are sunken and desolate, even as they glitter from deep wells of tears that redden his nose and soak patches in the blanket. Angelo’s hand is on his shoulder, offering him a tissue, muttering something, but Jimin simply stares ahead blankly, bottom lip trembling.

Jimin…

His head jerks up, eyes seeking you out, and you realize belatedly that you’d said his name aloud. But it doesn’t matter, because just the unfiltered relief on his face is enough to trigger your feet to move again, walking numbly towards him as your boss leaves him sitting there, rushing forward to greet you.

“Fucking hell, Y/n, you better have a damn good reason for terrifying the entire Lodge,” his rough colloquial Spanish rings out in a fevered hush, “we were just about to send search parties.”

You stand in shocked silence as he unhooks a walkie talkie from his waistband, quite literally calling off the horde of Cuyabeno employees gathering on the campsite. They, upon receiving the notice, glance over to you, showing varying degrees of relief and annoyance, and herd the guests back to their cabins.

“He’s been inconsolable all night, you know?”

Angelo’s voice whips your attention back, and you furrow your brows. “Huh?”

“Park Jimin,” your boss emphasizes with a scolding tone. “Bawling his eyes out, waking us all up at ass o’clock in the morning. Got half the team convinced you’d been eaten by a jaguar or something. Poor guy feels so guilty.”

“I was fine,” you defend, glancing past him at the sitting figure of the man in question, who looks so tiny perched on the edge of the veranda, red face poking out from the blanket.

“Well, how the fuck were we supposed to know that?”

Something snaps inside you, too wired up to hear the concern and relief that hides below Angelo’s façade of anger. You look away from Jimin, but stick a finger out to point at him while you glare at your boss. “He was the one that left me stranded! He was the one that ran away with the only flashlight we brought. He was the reason I spent the night sleeping in the rainforest. You tell me he’s feeling guilty? Well, he fucking should be.”

Behind Angelo, you see Jimin visibly flinch, stiffening and ducking his head so as to appear smaller. Though you had spoken in Spanish, your pointing and tone had probably left nothing to the imagination, and you lower your hand now, feeling a spike of regret.

The older Ecuadorian man just sighs, the fight leaving his body. “You could just talk, you know,” he offers up tiredly, “sort it out. Don’t let it fester. Maybe he just freaked out, saw a scary bug or something. You know how these city folk can get.” He purses his lips in consideration. “Then again, he is a bug scientist.”

“Lepidopterist,” you correct absentmindedly, eyes cast downward. “…I’m gonna go home, Angelo. Get ready for work. Sorry for worrying you,” you add, genuinely this time.

He lets you go without words, instead wrapping you into a fierce hug that lasts just long enough for your bones to begin to melt, anger slipping away.

With tired feet and a heavy heart, you make your way to the entrance of your hut, pausing in front of Jimin. Rather than jumping to greet you or apologise, he simply watches you balefully, eyes glossy with misery. You feel yourself break a little at the hurt in his gaze.

“I wanted to give you space,” you explain weakly. “I found a place to stay for the night. I didn’t think you’d worry so much.”

Jimin doesn’t reply, just sniffs and swallows and nods a little bit.

You let out a breathy noise, not quite light enough to be a laugh. “So… What time are we going butterfly-watching next?”

Brows furrowed strangely, he stays silent for so long you almost give up and walk past him. Eventually, though, his fists go lax and the thin blanket drops from around his shoulders, falling to the floor. He’s still in the t-shirt and shorts from last night. Somehow, this fact makes your eyes sting. “I think I’m just going to do it by myself from now on. Give you…space.”

For a moment, his lips wobble slightly, like he’s got something more to say, but then he just exhales with an air of finality, and focuses his gaze past you, to the distance.

Leaving him alone on the porch step hurts, but there’s nothing else for you to do.

--

In his defence, Jimin does exactly as he promises.

He gives you space.

Were it not for the closed door in the hallway and the weight in your heart, you could almost forget he was even there. Jimin doesn’t eat with you, instead sneaking out to take advantage of the thrice-daily buffets offered to guests. By the time you wake up in the morning and drink your ritual tea on the front porch, he’s come and gone. Occasionally you can hear him working, but not most days. In the evenings, you hear him pack his things and leave. You’re asleep before he returns.

You continue to go on tours, sticking to the ones far away from the butterfly meadow, but you can’t avoid butterflies themselves. They are, as Jimin pointed out earlier, abundant in this area, but you swear you didn’t notice them as much until these past few days. They flit around, drawing gasps and coos and camera clicks from your tour groups but leaving you with an uncomfortable twinge in your chest.

It’s an entire three weeks before you discover why he ran that fateful night.

Bad weather cancels a day of tours for you, and late into the morning you hear murmuring coming from Jimin’s room. You know you shouldn’t eavesdrop, but you can’t help the yearning you feel. The moment you consider tiptoeing up and pressing your ear to the door, it’s like your mind is made.

His voice is softer, sweeter, more playful than you’d ever heard directed at you, even before the strange falling-out. “…pretty, aren’t you? I know, I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. Hm? Minnie’s here.”

Your stomach turns, and you rush away as quickly and silently as you came.

Of course. Of course a guy like him had a girlfriend. It’s not like he was obliged to tell you, and you shouldn’t have assumed he was single. Poor guy probably felt grossed out, probably thought you’d intentionally made a move. No wonder he freaked when you called him Jiminie too, if Minnie was her pet name for him or something.

It’s a relief when the next morning breaks out in sunshine. You don’t fancy being in that house longer than is strictly necessary.

--

“Can we talk?”

Jimin jumps when he opens the door to you waiting, blinking in shock. “I have to get going…” He’s somehow even paler than when he first came, probably from only ever leaving the house at night-time, and though his eyes are bright, they’re sunken.

You don’t move when he puts his head down and makes an attempt to step forward again. “Please, Jimin. I owe you an apology. Besides; there’s no reason for us to hide from each other and be miserable. Let’s just talk.”

He scratches at his collarbone past the neck of his t-shirt, which protrudes more than you swear it had when he arrived. “Yeah, okay. Come in, I guess.”

He raises a tired eyebrow at your sigh of unfiltered relief, simply ducking back into the safety of his room, hopping onto the single bed cross-legged.

You follow after. “Look, that night got out of hand, but I think I get now why you…” You trail off once you step fully into the room, mouth hanging open.

It’s messy like when he moved in, an organized and dedicated chaos, but there’s one key difference. Amongst the open textbooks, scribbled notes, and strewn stationery on his desk, one large object catches your eye.

An entire branch, dangling from rope taped to the ceiling. You couldn’t recognize the tree just by that alone, but after taking in the lush leaves and forked twigs, something inside you thinks it’s probably from that same tree, or at least the same type, that the longwing erato butterflies were on that night.

Of course, you wouldn’t need the branch itself to tell you that. What makes it clear as day is the ten-plus butterflies that flutter around the room, resting periodically on the branch itself.

Jimin ducks his neck, rubbing at his chest in self-comfort. “You wanted to talk?” he questions innocently.

You don’t let the joyous spike in your heart at him speaking to you distract from what’s in front of you. “I said no bugs in the house. Are you serious?”

“They’re not bugs,” he whines defensively. You stare in open-mouthed bewilderment as one, smaller than the rest but with thicker red bands on its wings, lands on the top of one of his pointer fingers, settling after a few moments. Jimin’s eyes warm, a smile tugging at his lips. “I didn’t want to bother you by coming and going all the time, so I just got them to come to me… I can take better care of them this way.”

With a conflicted frown, you push down your divided emotions on this statement in the hopes of pushing forth. “Anyway, I wanted to say that I get now why you freaked out. I overheard you talking with your girlfriend the other day and-” You blink, cutting yourself off. The words you’d heard muffled behind his bedroom door I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. “You… Do you have a girlfriend, Jimin? Or a boyfriend?”

Jimin’s so startled it disrupts the butterfly from its perch, but he barely notices, eyes comically wide in shock. “Wh- y- Are you propositioning me?”

You splutter, realizing belatedly how poorly your statement was phrased. “No, I, sorry, I just wanted to ask because I thought I overheard you one day talking to someone on the phone. And I thought perhaps that was the reason you took off that night, because you thought I was making moves on you when you were taken.” His expression is unreadable, eyes glazed in what might be contemplation or might be annoyance, but you forge on with a deep breath. “So, whether you have a partner or not, I wanted to apologize, because that night was an accident. I wasn’t like, trying to make out with you on a butterfly hunt. That’s… yeah, that’s all I wanted to say.” His eyes drop from you wordlessly, and your heart stutters in concern. “You can say something now. Please.”

His shoulders fall slack; you hadn’t noticed how tense he was. “Y/n…” He gives a bittersweet sigh, lip tugging into a reluctant smile. “Well, first of all, it was not a butterfly hunt. Secondly… I haven’t been fair to you. I should apologize too. Could you sit?”

He shuffles sideways on the bed, patting the rumpled sheets beside him. You hop on, and it’s not until an awkward silence threatens to descend that he finally speaks up again.

“Listen, I wanna be clear. I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend or anything. I wasn’t talking on the phone that day. I’m sorry for running when we went out that night, I really am. And it wasn’t because of you that I freaked- well, it was because of you, but not in a bad way.” He lets out a pained breath, staring doggedly ahead at the smattering of butterflies roaming the hanging branch. Even as he avoids your gaze, he subtly turns his torso inwards towards you, the shyest olive branch. “The truth is, I freaked because I really like you. And I… This is gonna make me sound like an asshole, but I didn’t want to let myself get distracted. I have to put this research first. I figured if I just avoided you, I’d get over it, but-” He waves his hand in the air helplessly. “That hasn’t been working out so well,” he admits in a defeated voice. With a final sigh, he falls silent.

You stay quiet for a few more moments, letting his words process in your mind. He actually liked you? The discomforting tug in your chest eases as the thought, the ache of your heart soothing into a warm thrum. But he had to put his work first. Of course. “I get it,” you say finally.

Jimin perks up, finally looking over at you with vulnerable eyes. “You…do?”

You crack a light smile at his stammering of such a short sentence, but then a wider beam takes over. Even if he wanted to never even touch you for fear of getting ‘distracted’, this was enough. Just seeing his face, hearing the notes of his voice, his expression light up in hope; if nothing else, this was enough. “Yeah,” you reiterate with crinkled eyes, “I mean, let’s look at this rationally. You’ve been studying in uni for how long? Paying fees, buying textbooks, studying hard. And now you’re doing a thesis, which you had to uproot your life and fly out to another country for. I bet that was expensive, too. And on top of all that, it’s clear how much it all means to you. You just met me because I happened to be staying in the hut you’d booked. I don’t wanna get in your way, Jimin. This work makes you happy.”

“You-” Jimin cuts himself off, clearing his throat noisily, shaking his head at himself cutely. “Um, I really appreciate that. Now I feel silly I didn’t just tell you that three weeks ago. You know how hard it’s been sneaking showers at the crack of dawn? Those campsite bathrooms don’t even have mirrors. I’ve become an expert at shaving by memory.” He sends you a small smile then, small but genuine, and on his lap his fingers stretch out shyly, before falling back into a loose fist.

Not wanting to disrupt the cheery mood, you reach over to shove at his shoulder playfully. “Well then, how about instead of distracting you, I help you? I’ll be your official sidekick. Or assistant, whatever it’s called.”

“Is that so?” Jimin retorts with glimmering eyes. Like it’s sensed the warm ambience returning to the two of you, a lone butterfly has flown over, settling itself between waves of honey blonde, off-center so that Jimin has to strain his eyes over to make it out. “Hey, Molly,” he mumbles so softly his lips barely move, but, right beside him, you hear it.

“You name them?” you question in confusion, but he doesn’t get the chance to answer before it hits you. “Oh my god. You were talking to the butterflies, weren’t you?”

Jimin stiffens up defensively, but takes care to do it slowly enough that the black-and-red butterfly in his hair, Molly apparently, doesn’t get disturbed. “Makes things grow better,” he mutters through a pout, cheeks glowing an embarrassed pink. “And they have personalities too, you know? Just like dogs or cats.”

You observe the way he leans back away from you, braced like he’s expecting backlash or humiliation. Instead, you nod slowly. “So, what’s Molly’s personality?”

He goes stock still in surprise. “Molly?” After you nod again, he relaxes slowly, fiddling with his hands in his lap even as his face warms. “Molly’s a sweetheart,” he reveals tentatively. “She likes keeping me company more than the others, and when I need to take notes on her wing growth she sits so nicely.”

Your eyes widen in wonder. “Woah, that’s incredible,” you breathe.

He tilts his head to the side. Molly settles herself in deeper, batting her wings a couple times but staying there. It makes you quirk a smile even as Jimin sends you a look of confusion. “What’s incredible?”

“Jimin, these are wild creatures,” you elaborate, “I don’t think we’ve had any researchers stay here before, certainly none specifically for them, and you’ve only been here three weeks yet already they trust you. Do you have any idea how amazing that is?” Do you have any idea how amazing you are? You bite your tongue to stop the words.

He gives his head the smallest shake, wary of the resting butterfly on his head. “All I did was talk to them. Be gentle with them. Look-”

You gasp when suddenly warmth envelops your palm, Jimin softly interlocking your fingers. He stands slowly, then tugs at your hand for you to follow. You do so in an almost religious silence, the hush that speaks louder than words. His fingers, although short, fit with yours perfectly, and as the two of you make your way to the hanging branch he squeezes gently in reassurance.

Licking his lips to wet them, he turns you and holds your connected hands in the air. “If you’re calm and quiet, they’ll trust you too.”

Barely breathing, you nod and stare wide-eyed as he gradually moves your hands closer to the branch. Once the back of your knuckles brush a leaf, he pauses there. “Lift one finger up in the air,” he instructs softly, “like a landing post.” You do as he asks and wait for approval, but his eyes aren’t on you. Rather, they focus on the three butterflies that huddle on a nearby leaf, one of which looks all but asleep to you. “There’s Yoyomi, Kong, and Mickey,” he utters. “Kong is a drama queen, he acts like he hates affection, that’s why he’s gone so still, but one of the others might come over.”

The two of you wait with baited breath and clasped hands as the smaller one of the three alights, fluttering around before delicately landing on the pad of your finger. Your heart stops with the lightest pressure of its legs on your skin, barely more than a tickle.

“See?” Jimin whispers, eyes glittering. “That’s little Yoyomi. Say hi.”

Your finger threatens to falter. You feel stupid talking to a bug, but hasn’t Jimin proved that it’s making a difference? And besides, you can’t let him down after he’s chosen to be so vulnerable with you. You can’t say no to him. “Um. Hi, Yoyomi. You’re very beautiful.” With the warmth of Jimin’s hand on yours, you’re certain he can feel the way your pulse throbs in your wrist, heart racing as Yoyomi’s wings, red at the tip instead of down the middle, give a welcoming flutter.

“Very beautiful,” you hear Jimin repeat in the softest tone.

Your gaze lifts to him, where, instead of looking down at Yoyomi, his eyes are on you. You swallow the euphoria that rises in your chest. “I… I hope you’re not getting distracted,” you say awkwardly.

His lip twitches down. “Sorry.” He lets go of your hand suddenly, giving Yoyomi a fright and sending her off, landing back on the branch with Kong and Mickey. You lower your own arm, feeling the tip of your finger tingle strangely, missing that delicate weight. Missing his touch even more. “I’ll be good. I’ll focus on them.”

You smile reassuringly, past the regret that builds deep in your stomach. “We can have a clean slate, yeah? Like a butterfly kicks off its cocoon, we can get rid of the negative energy and go back to being friends. A fresh start.”

The tension leaves Jimin’s face, replaced by pursed lips as he suppresses a reluctant smile. “You really know nothing about butterflies, don’t you?”

You back up closer to the door, resting your head playfully on the doorframe. “I have a very neglectful teacher.”

He lets out a laugh then, tinkling and giggly, and you feel your heart soar. “Oh, is that so? Well, our first lesson is 9am sharp. And I will be taking attendance,” he adds with faux sternness.

You nod, playing along, feeling so light you could float. “I’ll be there.”

--

“Mm, I’d say 38 millimeters. No; put down 37 and a half.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you cheer, carefully noting down the measurements.

Jimin tuts, eyes remaining trained on the gently batting wings of Una, another one of the older butterflies. “I said not to call me that. Okay, and it looks like the stripe is the same as last week. Have you got it?”

You bite down on the inside of your lip. “I do, master.”

Jimin splutters. “Stop,” he whines petulantly, “look, you made me give Una a fright. Una, it’s okay, don’t g-” He breaks off with a sigh. “It’ll take ages for her to work up the courage to come back over now… Stop teasing me. We’ll have to move on to Molly for now, okay?” He glances up at you warningly, pink lips still pressed in a pout.

You force your eyes not to linger, instead lifting your chin in a decisive nod. “Yes, chef.”

This time you’re rewarded with a full beam, Jimin’s eyes crinkling so much they just about shut completely, delicate hands pressing down on his cheeks in an effort to suppress. “Stop it! You’re making fun of me!”

“Well, who else can I make fun of?” you point out innocently. “When I called Kong an old man you made me sleep on the couch.”

Jimin’s mouth falls to a small o of shock. “That was a joke. You were the one that actually did it.”

Shrugging non-committedly, you doodle squiggles in the margins of Jimin’s notebook. “I take my job very seriously,” you defend, raising your eyebrows. “Which, speaking of, I wanted to ask. Are you free tonight?”

Jimin blinks, ducking his head back like he’s got whiplash. “Are you asking me out on a date?” he questions incredulously.

You put the book down, locking eyes with him. “I’m asking you out on an expedition,” you correct.

“Do I get to know where this expedition is going?”

“Absolutely not.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second, brown eyes warm. “Deal.”

--

“That doesn’t look safe,” Jimin frowns, tugging at the hem of his light cotton shirt as he eyes the looming contraption.

“But you promised,” you retort, already with a foot on the base. You’d taken him to one of your favorite places on the island, your lookout tower. Of course, the last time you were here hadn’t been so fun, but as the sun sinks lower in the sky, you know it’s time to rewrite some better memories.

“I never agreed to this,” he retorts. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you grab onto his forearm, tugging him up with you. Luckily, the stability of the tower, at least down on ground level, seems to suffice for him, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

“You promised to expe…dish with me,” you stammer.

“Expedish?”

“You know, go on an expedition? Expedite? Ex- Expedo-”

“Okay,” he cuts you off, stepping up onto the first stair that led upwards. “I’ll do it. Just stop making up words.”

You follow behind him dutifully, willing your eyes not to fall down to where his shorts stretch taut over his ass and thighs, calves flexing with every step higher. You attempt to distract yourself, simultaneously cursing and praising the fact you didn’t go in front of him. “I could say real words instead,” you offer helpfully, “like…barbecue. Lawnmower. Effervescence.”

Jimin gasps softly, in a playfully high tone. “Baby’s first words!”

You frown pettily, stomping your feet down on the steps so he can hear your dissatisfaction, but you can’t deny the way your breath hitches when he calls you baby. Dammit. “Just climb,” you mutter bitterly, quietly reveling in the triumphant peal of his laughter.

When the two of you reach the top, he’s panting, and you have to admit that you’re short of breath too. His eyes widen prettily as he takes in the view, holding onto the wooden slats around the border of the lookout to keep him stable as he rises onto his tiptoes.

Last time, the sun was well and truly set, but now the leaves are glowing in molten golds and oranges, the sky a pastel blanket over the island. The topiary is awash with activity, that unique window where nocturnal creatures stir and the rest settle.

“It’s beautiful,” he breathes, and you’re inclined to agree, but it can’t match the beauty you see in him.

Straining to catch every last inch in sight, his body is stretched into a graceful curved line, enough that his shirt lifts to reveal a narrow strip of skin above his waistband. Much paler than the bronze caramel of his face and hands, it reminds you just how much sun he’s been getting these past few weeks now that he isn’t hiding himself away.

He looks much healthier, too, with the softness of his cheeks returned to full blush and eyes twinkling with wonder as he watches birds coast along the horizon line, monkeys navigate the trees with ease, and a few margay cats just like the ones you yourself had caught prowling that past night. He looks happy, and something warm unfurls in your chest at the thought that you’ve contributed to that joy.

You don’t process his eyes on you until he cracks a shy smile, raising a delicate brow. “Thinking hard or hardly thinking?” he teases softly.

“Just thinking,” you murmur, unwilling to part your gaze with him just yet. He doesn’t seem satisfied, tilting his head with imploring eyes. You relent, unable to deny him. “Cada vez que yo te veo y que te pienso siento que florezco.”

Jimin pouts cutely, falling back flat on his feet to stare you down fully. “Well, what does that mean?”

“It means you should learn Spanish,” you retort, ignoring the thudding beneath your ribs. “You do live in Ecuador, after all.”

“Only if you teach me,” he jokes lightly with a playful tip of his head. He takes a step closer, then, and his face changes, sobers up. “Thank you, Y/n. For taking me here, I mean.”

With the cramped space of the lookout, he’s now close enough that you can see each individual eyelash that curve delicately, the finest smile lines on his cheeks, the thinnest sheen of sweat on his temples. He’s close enough that you could easily reach out and k- “You’re welcome,” you blurt out, inhaling deep through your nose in the hopes of clearing your head. Instead, you just breathe in the delicate smell of orange blossoms that you’re beginning to associate with Jimin, perhaps something in his body wash or shampoo. Your eyes flutter around, unsure where is safe to land. His eyes, which bore so intensely into yours. Or his lips, which are pinker and plusher than usual as he nibbles softly at them. You stare stubbornly instead at the tip of his button nose, fingers curling at your sides with the effort to keep them to yourself

“It’s hard for you too, isn’t it?” he questions in the smallest voice, barely more than a velvet whisper.

Your eyes lift to him unsurely. “W-what? What’s hard for me too?”

His hand begins to lift up in the air in front of you, before it falters, and ultimately settles awkwardly on the railing. “Holding back,” he finally admits. “Not getting…distracted.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Distantly, you wonder what exactly he was reaching out to. “Impossible.”

Jimin’s head dips, eyes falling to the dusty wooden floor below you. “I’m sorry.”

A dissatisfied shiver runs down your spine. “I- you don’t have to apologise.”

He looks stricken. “No, I do, I just- I’m working it out. I’m thinking it through. I’m sorry.”

You fight your disappointed, struggling to maintain the cool composure of rationality that holds your tears at bay. “I understand,” you reassure, “this research is what means the most to you. You have to put it first.”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know if it’s-” He shudders then, a full-body tremble that’s only masked somewhat by the sudden step back he takes, almost tripping on an uneven plank. “I have to go,” he rushes out, one foot on the steps leading down before he freezes, forces himself to turn back to face you. “Are you… Are you ready to go? We can walk back together. If you want.”

You feel your knees go weak as you nod, biting on your bottom lip harshly to keep face. “I’m ready to go back if you are. I’m sorry, I thought taking you up here would be nice…”

His earnest look takes you off-guard. “I am so grateful, Y/n, it’s so beautiful up here. Thank you.”

A strange, detached feeling washes over you, like defeat, only softer. “You’re welcome,” you say again, though this time you don’t know if you mean it.

--

You let it go, for a while. Jimin’s happy, and that’s enough for you.

Slowly, you were getting better at recognising each of the regular visitors by the slightly different patches on their wings, or even simply how they behaved. It was a strange thing to get to know them like you would with a pet, realising they really did have unique personalities. And over time, you opened the rest of the doors of the hut, too, until it became commonplace to wake up from a flutter on your cheek, or to check for any resting butterflies on the couch before you sat down. It brought a sense of life to your abode that, in full honesty, you’d probably never truly felt before. But of course most of that led right back to Jimin.

Jimin, who no longer held himself back from chatting away softly to the butterflies like they were his friends. Jimin, who patiently explained the life cycle of the longwing erato for the nth time when you still got lost. Jimin, who did his best to stay professional but couldn’t hold back his warm smiles, gentle touches, and reassuring words. Jimin, who was overflowing with so much love for everything that you felt it grow within you too.

“Y/n?”

Jimin’s alarmed voice catches you off-guard from where you’d zoned out in the kitchen, milk warming to room temperature on the bench as you’d gotten too distracted to pour it into the bowl of waiting cereal. Cursing, you shove it back in the fridge and abandon your breakfast to rush down to the study.

He’s hunched over his desk, unaware of Molly nestled on his shoulder, as he focuses intensely on what’s in front of him.

“What’s going on?” you question, not wanting to approach the desk so suddenly just in case you startle him or whoever has his attention.

“Baby got his wing torn again. I think he’s been going to that patch of rosebushes behind the kitchen.”

You gasp, risking a couple steps forward silently. Your chest is taut with anxiety as you watch Jimin gently pin Baby onto a towel with an oval metal loop that keeps his wings still while allowing his small black body to move. He wriggles in the eye of the loop, but settles as a single pinkie finger strokes his wings with the lightest pressure. Baby, as his name suggests, is the youngest of your little ragtag bunch at only 8 days old. Jimin wasn’t sure, but he believed Molly might be the mother. Most of the females laid a few eggs every day, but only a few over the month and a half had actually chosen to come into the house. Baby, however, had shadowed Molly from the moment he’d first flown in.

“That’s the second time,” you murmur, rubbing at your shoulder in concern. “Will he be okay?”

Jimin hums, lips barely moving when he speaks in a soft register. “It’s a bigger tear than last time but it should be an easy fix. I just hope he learns this time. Can you get me the repair kit?”

You do as he says quickly but calmly so as not to disturb anyone. “Here. Do you need anything else?”

He doesn’t answer for a while, gnawing at his lip as he takes some contact adhesive and a small wooden dowel. “Um, no, but… Could you just stay?”

Your heart jumps in your chest; you curse that jolt of euphoria in a time like this. “Of course I can, Jiminie,” you reassure, pulling up a stool beside him and giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Later on, after Baby’s made a full recovery and Jimin has given him an extremely gentle scolding, the two of you decide to have a night in. Jimin exhausts the last of his Korean microwave meal supplies, you crack out a couple of old bottles of red wine you’d gotten for Christmas two years ago, and the two of you curl up on the couch in your pyjamas, talking about everything and nothing.

It’s shortly after midnight, once Jimin has long since jiggled the final drops of wine from the second bottle into his waiting mouth, and you’re feeling sleepy from carbs, that you ask him why he likes butterflies so much. For some reason, the thought had never really occurred to you in these past weeks.

“I mean,” you continue, voice loudened by the weak buzz of alcohol, “I get now that butterflies are super cool. But like, what made you even pay attention to them in the first place? It’s such a specific career.”

Jimin, who had significantly more of the wine than you, pats his own red cheeks in thought, smiling absentmindedly to push them out rounder. His eyes glaze over, but with how well he held his liquor, you think the faraway look is due to something else. “It’s silly,” he brushes off, tapping his pinkie fingers on the apples of his cheeks.

“Come on,” you whine, tipping your head to the side and widening your eyes pleadingly. “I bet it is just as cute as everything else about you.” Your brain screeches to a halt. Did you really just say that? Clearing your throat awkwardly, you reach for a half-empty glass of water, maybe his or maybe yours, and take a sip, willing your cheeks and ears to stop burning.

Jimin ducks his head with a flustered giggle, splaying his arms on the table to bury his face between dramatically. “Stop,” you hear him say, able to distinguish a pout in his voice even through the muffling. “It is silly. You’ll laugh at me.”

“I won’t ever laugh at you, Jiminie,” you say honestly, smile dropping. “I promise.”

With a deep sigh, he rises up again, locks of warm golden hair sticking up at odd angles like bedhead. Avoiding your gaze, he puckers his lips shyly, reddened where he’s nibbled at it. “It started back in primary school. My best friend loved butterflies, he wanted to be a lepidopterist even before we knew the word. Always talked about how beautiful they were and if he spent his life looking at beautiful things that he’d be happy forever.”

A thought occurs to you. “The one from that framed photo in your room?” you question.

Jimin looks up so fast he has to blink away the wobble of light-headedness that strikes him. “You’ve seen it?”

“The two little schoolboys, right?” you confirm. Once he nods, you grin, rushing to his room with the added aerodynamic rush that tipsiness gave you. The picture frame is on his little bedside table, and you gently carry it with you back to the lounge, dropping down heavily beside him on the floor instead of your perch on the couch. “So this is you and your friend?”

Jimin takes it with a fond, dopey smile. Both young, chubby kids are tan with crinkled eyes and black tufted hair, their matching uniforms and grins making them look thick as thieves. The shorter one with a perfectly round face made up primarily of his chipmunk cheeks and a button nose, clutches the straps of his backpack proudly. Jimin points at him. “That’s me,” he tells you, a chuckle in his voice, “I’m older than him yet he’s always been bigger than me. Unfair.” With a distant look, a quiet smile, Jimin brushes his thumb over the glass where the other boy stands, the cutest boxy smile revealing a set of pearly whites. “That’s Tae. I owe him everything.”

You look back and forth between him and the aged photograph, muffling a yawn that the late hour has triggered. “Are you guys still friends?”

Jimin sets the frame down, humming an affirmative. “He’s still back home.”

“Is he a lepidopterist too?”

A quick surprised glance to you to acknowledge you finally pronouncing his job title correctly, then he laughs warmly, shaking his head. “He’s an artist, can you believe it? Paints the most gorgeous things. Realistic ones, abstract ones, ones with only two or three colours. Has his own pseudonym and everything.” Jimin sends a grin to you, like an inside joke only you share. “He likes painting butterflies the most, though.”

“Do you miss him?” The moment the words are out of your mouth, you regret them. Jimin sobers up, and the moment is lost.

“Yeah,” he admits morosely. “But less than six weeks until I can go back home and see him again!”

Like instant karma, the realisation that he’ll be leaving shatters your good mood too. “Not long… Anyway, you do your research and go back and give it to your university? How does the thesis work?”

Jimin’s face sours with a bitter scoff. “Gah, it’s so confusing. There are so many stages, and reviews, and deadlines… I was a little late on sending in my first progress report, but it’ll be fine once I get the go-ahead. There’re meant to be every month, but I was a bit behind on typing all my notes up. There’s just so much to say, I don’t know how I can only mention some things and not others.”

You tip your head to the side, feeling the warm buzz of wine slip through your fingers, leaving you feeling heavy. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs, tucking his legs so that he can rest his head on his knees. “I don’t know, like… Why should I get to say what’s relevant and what’s not? I write everything down, as much as possible, but for my report I had to try and choose what to cut for the word limit. Why is Kong’s feeding habits more important than Ronnie’s extra red stripe on his right wing? Why should I tell my supervisor that 87% of the female butterflies I’ve studied oviposit an average of two eggs a day but I don’t have room to tell her the joy the whole kaleidoscope had when Sophie finally laid her first eggs after a whole three weeks?” He leans back so that his head tips onto the couch seat, eyes upwards but unseeing, turned down in despair. “I could write a whole book on every single one of them, but all my supervisors want is data and generalisations. They want rules they can put into biology books and quote marks, they don’t really care about the stories. Taehyungie would understand.”

“I understand,” you feel the inexplicable need to say. “You’re such a good person, Jiminie.” Feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion hit you belatedly, you groan, pushing yourself up laboriously from the floor. “Aaand I think it’s time for me to hit the hay. Tonight was fun. Don’t worry about the mess; I’ll clean up tomorrow.”

“Have you forgotten we share this hut with the wildlife now?” Jimin asks with a quirked brow, laughing melodically when you groan again. “Don’t worry, you go to bed. I’ll clean up. Goodnight, Y/n.”

You should feel bad, you should tell him you’ll stay and help, but your bed is positively screaming your name. “Thank you! And for what it’s worth,” you add, “you’re the best leopard optimist I’ve ever met, Park Jimin.”

Though you don’t know it then, the radiant beam you receive is the last smile of his you’ll see for a while.

--

Seeing Jimin angry for the first time is the original red flag that something's up.

Waking up later than usual, you stretch languidly and pad down the hallway, already thirsty for your routine cup of tea, but Jimin's form hunched over stiffly in the kitchen causes you pause.

"Morning," you chime, but he doesn't even react, lids low and jaw tense as he stares intensely out the window. "I can make you a drink if you'd like?"

"Forget it," he spits, and you flinch. Six weeks together and you'd never heard that venom in his voice before.

"Did...Did something happen, Jiminie? Was it me, or...?"

His chest heaves in a shuddering breath, eyelashes fluttering miserably, before that stern fire returns. "No," he answers shortly. "It's me. It's this fucking thesis."

Your eyes fly wide, and suddenly concern and confusion turn to genuine alarm. Since when did Jimin swear? "The thesis?" You rack your brain, straining to recall your conversation last night. "Oh! The report, right? Did they finally get back to you?"

He lets out what sounds like a sob, lifting a hand to block it, and your heart melts, pulling him in for a hug. You can feel the stuttered way his heart is racing, as well as the way his whole body trembles with contained emotion as you tuck your chin on his shoulder, rubbing his back.

"Tell me," you coo, "tell me what happened. I promise it'll be okay."

"It won't," he assures, and like the shifting of winds, his body stiffens ironlike again, and he detaches you from him, crossing his arms with a hateful scowl. "She fucking rejected it. Told me to start again. Square one."

You're so shocked you don't even acknowledge the hurt of him pushing you away. "Holy shit, what? Can they even do that?"

Jimin scoffs darkly. "It was my fault, anyway. Meddling. Interfering with the research."

"How?" You think on it for a moment with furrowed brows. "Wait, you mean like, letting them in the house?"

"I mean everything, Y/n," he growls, voice growing louder with every word. "Letting them into the house, feeding them, fixing Baby's wing. She even told me off for giving them names, said it 'blurred the lines of scientific neutrality.' Now I have to start my three months of research again, with a different study group, no interfering. Halfway done, and now I'm-" He breaks off with an exhausted sigh. "Whatever. It's done now. At least you get your wish again. No bugs in the house."

You feel your heart sink. "Jiminie, that's not-"

"Please," he cuts you off, determinedly avoiding your gaze. "I messed everything up by meddling. I- I don't want to do it again. Let's just be roommates. Just call me Jimin, please. I'm sorry."

Against your will, tears well up in your eyes, not for yourself but for him. The pain that was written across his face. "I am so sorry," you manage to make out in a thick voice. "I'm sorry that you're stuck here with me and not Taehyung."

Jimin recoils violently, already pushing off the counter and making his way out of the kitchen. "Don't you dare speak to me about Taehyung."

He leaves, and the greater part of you knows he's taken your heart with him, just a broken void inside.

--

After a week of Jimin focussing fully on his work, you still end each day crying yourself to exhaustion. After two weeks, you notice your pants are a little too loose, and recall you'd forgotten to feed yourself most days. After the first month, you're taken aside by Angelo and told that you'd been receiving worse and worse feedback forms for your group tours. The truth is, seeing the wildlife, particularly the butterflies, makes you feel ill. You tell him you're just feeling under the weather and he suggests you take it easy for a few days. Those 'few days' seem to drag forever, your boss never asking you to come back in, so you wallow in your bedroom like a depressed ghost, wishing you could fade away.

Because it isn't just that Jimin's pushed you away. He's not even avoiding you, quite often curling up on the couch to pore over a textbook or type up notes periodically onto his old, bulky laptop. You see him almost every day, but he never says a word to you, and what really hurts is that he's burning out just like you are.

He's not happy. With sunken bags under his hollow eyes, he moves around in a lifeless mope, complimentary meals at the shared dining hall and kitchen the only thing keeping the plumpness in his cheeks. It tears you up inside to see him so miserable in the job he loves, the hut filled with negative space, emptiness where there should be flitting butterflies in the air and on every surface.

You don't know what he did with them. You'd gone to work that day and returned to find that all evidence of the butterflies having been removed. No Molly settling in your hair, no Kong acting like a tough guy, no sight of sweet little Baby and his slightly wonky wing. All you knew was that now he religiously checked the windows every night and morning to ensure they were closed.

Whether he realised it or not, you missed them too.

"It's been over a month," you say to him awkwardly one night after he comes back from dinner.

He pauses in the entryway, one foot in the air with a hand ready to take off his boot. "Yeah?"

"I just- Um, I was wondering if your one-month report came back okay."

He sighs delicately, and gives you a nod, finishing removing his footwear. "She gave me the go-ahead to continue, if that's what you're asking. Although she wasn't too happy that I needed more funding for another month and a half on-site."

"Don't pay," you blurt without thinking.

"Huh?"

You stammer, collecting your thoughts. "I- I mean, you don't- you don't have to pay. For the room. I can talk to Angelo. I don't mind having you here."

He pauses with socked feet, staring at you strangely, before his eyes clear and he shakes his head. "I don't want to be indebted to you."

You shrug. "It's not a debt to be repaid," you prompt, "it might not even work, I'm just saying I could always ask Angel-"

"And I don't want you to ask," Jimin cuts in, walking with thudded stomps to the kitchen, taking a water bottle from the fridge. "Just leave it alone, okay? It's the university's money anyway. Besides, I've already-" He cuts himself off, taking a swig from the cooled water.

"You've already what?"

He huffs, twisting back on the cap and levelling you a glare that has no energy to it. "I've already asked Angelo if I can change rooms if a hut frees up. So don't bother."

You go silent, shock and hurt swirling noiselessly through your veins.

His face crumples, stricken at your reaction and he gives a sniff before looking up at you one last time, ready to head to his room. "Goodnight."

You don't even spare him a reply, looking back down at the opened page of a book you'd been blankly staring at before he'd come in.

In your peripheral vision, you watch him wait for a moment, before his shoulders sag and he leaves in silence.

You don't realise you're crying until a fat drop lands on the page, blooming as it sinks in.

--

Willing your heart to let go, to forget, you bury yourself back into your work, taking on as many tours as possible and spending time with the kitchen and cleaning staff otherwise. It works for a long time, welcome distractions that occupy your mind and body, and you almost manage to convince yourself that it all was some distant event in the past, or a strangely realistic dream, that Jimin was just another roommate here for a job.

That progress shatters in a heartbeat when you come home to a familiar butterfly battering itself against the glass of the window beside the front door.

You falter, watching it silently as it repeatedly flies at the glass, dull thuds of impact, flaps of wings as it wriggled over the unyielding surface. "...Baby?"

Like it hears your voice, the butterfly stills, wonky wing slowing to a regular waving as it rests on the windowsill, turning to observe you.

"What are you doing?" you murmur in confusion, even as your heart leaps, the euphoria of meeting an old friend unexpectedly. You'd just about forgotten how naturally it felt to speak to them, but it all came back to you now. "What's going on?"

Baby flies over to you, hovering in front of your eyes before fluttering away, back the way you'd came. Hesitantly, you follow, and this seems to be the right thing to do as Baby continues to take periodical flights forward, checking you're following every single time.

Like a trail of breadcrumbs, Baby leads you to the back of the shared kitchen, to the set of untamed rose bushes that grow beneath the window. Hurriedly, Baby flutters to a leaf quite low to the ground and, checking around for people watching, you hunker down on your knees in the uneven dirt in front of the bush. "Baby, you know not to play here, you could get... Oh god."

These roses are a pale yellow, so it takes you no time to spot the weakly fluttering form lying on its back in the soil. It's been over a month since you've seen her, but you recognise her red patches like she'd never left. "Molly! What are you doing in there you poor thing?"

You feel a tickle on your inner wrist, Baby crawling down into the loose cup of your hand. With rising dread, you begin to piece the puzzle together. Baby, who already had a history of getting caught in the rose bushes, probably went in and got stuck. Molly, who'd always kept Baby near, would've gone in in a heartbeat to get him. But, judging by the way her left wing had a long tear running down towards her body, leaving it in two limp, barely-connected pieces, she'd been the one to hurt herself on the thorns this time.

"M-Molly," you call weakly, heart thudding in your chest in fear, "I'm gonna get you out, okay? Baby, come sit on my shoulder, I need my hands free."

Rather than risking injuring her more than she already was, you dig your fingers into the lush soil, lifting up the section of dirt with her on top, using both hands. Thorns leave red lines across your knuckles and cut nicks in your forearms, but you ignore the pain, focussed on gently extracting Molly safely from the bush, Baby restless on your shoulder, immediately fluttering down to rest on the soil beside his mother.

Rushing home, you knock on the door with your foot, just about cracking the wood - or your toes - in your urgency.

Jimin answers eventually, throwing you a weird look when he first seems the heap of dirt in your hands, before noticing what's on it. "Wha- Baby? Molly? Y/n, I'm not meant to- Oh god, what happened to her?"

You sniff, no hands free to wipe your nose which threatens to run. "Baby was outside when I got home, he led me to her. She got torn up in the rosebush."

He sucks in a breath, leaning closer to inspect her damaged wing. "I- We can't- I can't...meddle," he stammers, eyes shiny with unshed tears.

You furrow your brows in disbelief. "But- Jimin, you aren't even studying the original group anymore, why does it matter?"

He falters, taking a step back into the house, eyes on the doorframe instead of you or the butterflies in your hands. "If I make an exception now, I know I'll just keep doing it, and I can't afford to ruin my research again. Can you just- just take them away, please?"

Your mouth drops open, salt bursting on your tongue as tears slip in from the corners of your lips. "But Jimin, this is Molly!"

He lets out a sob, lips trembling violently as he scrubs the tears from his face and eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just a butterfly," he answers hollowly, voice cracking on the last word.

"You don't believe that," you accuse.

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, thick trails of tears dropping over his cheeks. "Just please go," he begs. Without a further word, he steps back, and the door shuts on you.

With no hands free to wipe your face, you sit on the porch with stinging eyes and snot on your upper lip, staring down at the two butterflies on the soil in your hands miserably.

"I'm so sorry," you make out with a raw voice, sniffing noisily. Baby bats his wings slowly in confusion, staring down at his mother, who grows weaker by the minute. How long had she lain there, unable to move, while Baby tried to get Jimin's attention? How much longer did she have? A new wave of sobs wracks your body, and you let it pull you under, feeling like this heartache is the least you deserve.

Though it takes hours, sun setting and shadows spreading over the grass of the campyard, you stay on that porch, trying to wipe your face on your shoulder so your tears and runny nose don't drip onto your friends. Your friends.

You couldn't save Molly, but you didn't want her or Baby to be alone.

She flutters her good wing for the last time shortly after midnight, judging by how high the moon is in the sky, an omniscient bystander tucked behind cloud.

Baby stays beside his mother for a while. Ten minutes, two hours, you don't know. Eventually, he crawls slowly over the dirt and onto your arm, like he doesn't have the energy to fly. With the lightest tickle of steps up your arm, he finally tucks himself in the hollow of your collarbone, a flutter of misery and solace. Your tears are silent now, but they never stop.

After an eternity, the door clicks open quietly. It's Jimin.

He stays quiet for a moment, eyes on you though you don't turn to look at him. "Is she gone?" he asks finally. You nod emotionlessly. "I'm sorry," he whispers into the pre-dawn air.

You swallow down the lump in your throat. "You lost the one you should've said sorry too hours ago."

He goes quiet at this. You almost expect him to turn around and go back inside with how long he goes without saying anything, but eventually he speaks up again. "I want to do something. I- It's too late now, but... I think the least I can do is give her a...proper burial."

You've been thinking about this yourself, for some time. Baby gives a curious flap of his wings. You sniff, tears finally drying up for now. "I know a place," you answer.

You walk in silence, leading the way.

At one point, Baby leaves your shoulder, flying back. You hear a solemn, "hey, buddy," followed by muffled sniffs and shaky breaths that sound like he's begun to cry. Wanting to give him some privacy, you don't turn around to check.

By the time you make it to the butterfly meadow, sun has broken over the horizon. Hot on your back, it casts long, thin shadows on the grass as you approach. "We're here," you say redundantly.

"I guess I'll- I'll dig a hole somewhere," he murmurs back, overtaking you.

Though he's grieving, you're surprised at his lack of reaction, until he steps in front of you and wipes his eyes clear of tears, hands slick with how much he's been crying. He could probably barely see to follow you. The moment he lowers his arm and looks up for a spot, he gasps quietly, eyes widening in awe.

A couple of days of rain recently had done the meadow well, and it's lush beneath your feet, a vibrant green that glints silver in the sunlight with morning dew. Sprinkled around are uncountable species of flowers, some recognisable like daisy patches and dandelions, the more colourful ones along the outskirts of the trees unfamiliar yet just as magical, pastel pinks and deep reds, pure whites and royal purples. But what's no doubt caught Jimin's eye, what he spins slowly around and strains his neck to see, are the darting kaleidoscopes of colour in the sky, at least a hundred butterflies all flitting around and basking in the unbroken sunlight.

"It's beautiful," Jimin breathes, "this is perfect, Y/n." He takes a deep breath, open mouth and lifted brows, trying to fight any further tears. There's a different glint in his eyes now. Not quite happiness, or content. Solace. Relief.

He picks a spot closer to the murky river, where the soil is damper and easier to lift. Once done, he helps you lay the heap of dirt, and Molly with it, into the shallow hole. Brushing off the dirt from your hands, you sit back on your knees, observing the way Jimin hesitates over the small pile of excavated soil beside the hole.

His hand hovers for a moment before he falters, looking up at you. Nestled in the honey blonde hair above his eyebrow is Baby, wings still. Like a cut directly into your heart, the thought strikes you that it's where Molly used to sit. "Should we...say something?" he asks tentatively.

Your heart melts. "I think that would be nice."

He swallows, nodding with distant eyes. "Um... Molly, you were the first butterfly that trusted me. Because of your friendliness, your family and friends grew to trust me too, and I'm so grateful that- I'm so-" Jimin's face crumples, and he buries it in his hands, voice muffled. "I'm so sorry that I betrayed your trust," he sobs, "I failed you and I failed Baby and I'm so so sorry."

Chest aching at the way Jimin looks so small curled up there in front of Molly's grave, you find yourself speaking too, to him just as much as Baby and Molly. "Molly, we were so lucky to know you. You brought light into both of our lives. I was truly happy in every moment spent with you, and now I know that you're in a better place, that you'll have eternal happiness. We'll try and keep positive and keep bright to honour you." Your eyes slip from Molly to the broken boy beside you. "And we'll take care of Baby for you. You did well, mama."

Jimin lets out a shaking sigh and nods, lifting his face up again. Even with red eyes and a running nose, he's beautiful. You take a breath and force yourself not to think about that now.

Silently, he fills in the dirt over Molly, covering her and leaving a patted-down patch of naked soil. There's a finality to it that leaves you short of breath, and the two of you sit wordlessly for a while, just watching the butterflies above flit around the sky, a gentle breeze flowing over your skin.

Once he's finished his quiet reflection, Jimin clears his throat, shifting so that his body faces you, although his gaze is still outward. "I'm not cut out for this," he says simply.

"The funeral?"

"No, I mean- everything. The thesis, the research. Scientific neutrality. I can't do it. It's too cruel."

You take the time to process this. "...What are you saying, Jimin?"

"Could you-" he starts in a strangled voice. His head ducks to look firmly at the ground, so all you can see is his mussed golden locks. "Could you go back to the way you said it before?"

"Huh?"

He fiddles with a blade of grass. "Jiminie," he whispers, and you hate the way your heart pangs when you hear it.

"Jiminie," you obey, "you don't mean you're going to give it up, right? Your thesis?"

He shrugs, head lifting reluctantly. "I can't do this for another two more months," he explains, "and I'm scared of what will happen when I have to- to leave."

You nod slowly. "Do you have to, though? Leave?"

Jimin nods, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair and letting out a wet chuckle when Baby, startled by the sudden shifting, flits over to you and rests petulantly on the crown of your head. He quickly sobers up, though. "Yeah. I have to go back, edit it, submit it, then defend it at my university. How am I meant to defend something I hate?"

"Could you..." You pause, catching up with your thoughts. "Could you change your thesis?"

Jimin lets out a sigh, plump lips turned down morosely. "And start from scratch again? Technically I could, sure, but I can't get past the scientific neutrality thing, Y/n."

An idea begins to bubble in the back of your mind, making you sit upright. "What if you didn't have to do either of those things?"

"What?"

"When you were taking care of the butterflies in the house, they were living longer, right? Because they were being fed and kept safe and given medical care." He shrugs, and you take it as an affirmative. "Then why couldn't you change your thesis to compare the longwing erato on its own versus it with your intervention? Your whole angle could be on like, conservation through human aid."

"I'd still have to start ove- Wait! This first month could serve as the 'before', and I can spend the next two months taking care of them to show the 'after.'" A smile stretches across his face, something you haven't seen in over a month, and it's positively healing. "Y/n, you're a genius! I would have to check with my supervisor, but... This could really work! And I wouldn't have to leave them alone anymore..."

Jimin's eyes dart to Baby, who's still comfy in your hair, then a change happens on his face, a realisation. "Y/n..." With bated breath, you lock your eyes with his, melting into the deep brown. "This- this whole situation has taught me something. That I'd rather make connections and prioritise feelings, even at the cost of what I'm supposed to do. I've lost someone very dear to me today, but the reality is, I lost her the moment I cleared all the butterflies out of the hut. And god, Y/n, I don't think I can bear to lose you too."

Your eyes widen, taken aback by the earnestness of his voice and the vulnerability in his face. "Jiminie..."

His eyes soften visibly at the way you call his name, his upper half leaning closer towards you, so that your faces are less than half a metre apart. Too far to touch, but close enough that you can make out every detail on his face, the way his eyebrows knit together and lift, the dark pink in your peripheral where he run his teeth over his bottom lip. "I've been so scared. So scared of the day I would have to leave you, that I'd tried to act like I didn't care, but I can't do it. If I have another two months here, I want to spend them at your side, not just under the same roof. I just... I have two questions. Firstly; what was it you said on the lookout tower that day? The Spanish sentence, I mean."

Feeling overwhelmed, your lips stretch into a fond smile when you recall it. "Cada vez que yo te veo y que te pienso, siento que florezco."

"That's it," he nods, "what does it mean?"

Somehow it feels less romantic in Korean, and you blush, having to fight to keep your eyes on him. "Every time I look at you or think about you I feel like I'm blooming."

A shy smile of wonder lights up his face. "You- even then, you liked me? I thought I was the only one then."

"You liked me too?" He nods sheepishly. "Since when?"

"The first time."

You give a confused head shake. "The first time what?"

"The first time I saw you," he reveals in a delicate voice.

Speechless, you just stare at him in shock for a moment, unsure how to respond. Finally, you clear your throat. "Wh-what's the second question?"

His voice drops to a lower register, honey like his hair. "Can I kiss you?"

Your breath catches. Instead of answering, you lean forward to close the distance, cupping his cheeks to guide his mouth to yours. Those lips, the ones you had spent hours fantasising about, felt like heaven against you, soft and warm and plush. Jimin goes still in surprise for a brief moment before he melts, the lightest vibration of a whimper tingling your lips. Belatedly, his hands lift to steady your hips and you sigh, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss.

You can feel his round cheeks warming beneath your fingers, his nose pressing against the apple of your cheekbone, and a tickle on your scalp where Baby flutters. But beyond that, beyond the silk of his lips and the beautiful gasps he lets out, there's a rising wave of euphoria inside you, and you can't help but smile into the kiss, overjoyed.

Not breaking for a second, you shuffle forward, slipping one hand into his hair, which is softer than cotton, longer than it was when you came without a hairdresser nearby to tidy it up. Winding locks around your fingers, you tug lightly from the nape of his neck to tip his head a little further back.

Jimin whines, one hand flying up to grip onto your wrist and you pull back in concern. He follows your lips, eyes staying lidded as he sucks in breaths through his mouth.

"Are you-" you stutter, "was that too much? I'm sorry."

He blinks at last and gives you a bleary look, sucking his swollen bottom lip into his mouth. "It's okay, it's just- Maybe not the right time and place."

You sit back, head clearing. "Right, yeah, that's fair."

Jimin's eyes drop to the ground with a coy, but still shy smile. "I would very much like to do that again. Preferably a lot."

You go to laugh, but grimace when you feel the dried tears on your cheeks. Yeah, definitely not the. right time or place. "Let's go home," you say softly, standing up off the ground. "I don't know about you, but I think it's about time we opened up our windows again. So Baby and the others can come back home too."

Jimin beams up and you and nods. "Let's go home," he echoes simply.

--

"Morning, Jiminie," you coo, tilting your head up onto the back of the couch so he can press a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Good morning, baby," he returns, smiling against your skin before straightening up again. "Not going out on the porch today?"

You let out a dry two-beat laugh. Outside, the campground is basically a mudslide, tropical rain beating down, pattering on the roof noisily. "Did you shut the windows?"

He collapses onto the couch beside you with a sigh, arms already winding around your middle to snuggle in close. "...almost all the way, yes." At your look of reproach, Jimin elaborates. "And I put towels on the floor under the window sills."

Unable to stay mad at him, especially not when he throws a leg over your lap and tucks in like a koala, you laugh begrudgingly. "I guess that's the best I'm gonna get, huh? Lazy day today? All my tours have been cancelled and I can't imagine you'll get much done out there either."

With a hum of agreement, Jimin lifts his head, resting it on your shoulder to look up at you. "That means it's just the two of us," he states coyly.

"Mm, and about thirty flying bugs. Romantic."

Jimin's brows tug down sharply as he glares at you, though without any real malice. "They are too romantic, and you know they aren't technically bugs. I put some sugar water on my desk for them, we can just ignore them."

You pretend to ponder for a moment, his face so close you have to pull back to fully see it. "Fine, but to be clear the butterflies stay out during sex."

He sits up, an unreadable expression dulling his eyes.

In response, you widen yours. "Wait... You don't seriously want the butterflies around while we're having sex, right? Is that some kind of lepidopterist thing? Because if so, I am not-"

"It's not that," he blurts hastily, "it's just..."

You let all playful humour drop from your voice, leaving only concern. "Whatever it is, you can tell me, Jiminie. I didn't mean to upset you."

He slips his arms back from around your torso. Before you can mourn the loss of his body heat, he latches onto your arm and cuddles into your side, covering his face with your shoulder. You can feel just how hot his cheeks are, and reach out with your other hand to tenderly card your fingers through his hair, hoping to calm him down.

"You'll laugh at me," he mumbles, lips moving against your bare skin. You tut softly, assuring him otherwise, but still it takes him a few moments to work up the courage. "I haven't...done it before."

"That's it?" you question softly. Jimin just lets out a miserable whine. "Jiminie, that's no biggie. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pressure you or anything. We can just take things slow."

He sits himself up a little, then, propping his cheek on your shoulder to look you in the eye. You suppress the twitch of your lip as you see the way it pushes his plush lips out and crinkles his eye with the displacement of the flesh of his cheek. "I want to though," he protests in a pout. "Because I like kissing so much, and I like you so much. I'm just...I don't know if I'm ready yet."

You hum in thought, cupping his free cheek fondly. "Is there a reason you haven't had sex before, or has the opportunity just never really come up?"

He shrugs cutely, leaning into your touch. "Well...Taehyungie-" He breaks off, fixing you with an imploring look. "You can't tell him I told you this."

Your lips stretch into a grin at the thought that he's expecting the two of you to meet one day. "I promise I won't."

With a resounding nod, Jimin continues. "Well, Taehyungie and I have always lived together since we moved out for university. He was always more confident than me, and so he- he slept with a bunch of people. Which is like, good for him, you know, I'm not judging at all, but... I don't know, from what he told me and what I...heard, it just sounded really aggressive and, um, intense. I don't think I can be like that. I don't know if it's really my thing. So I- I just never really did it."

You furrow your brows, processing his words. "Jiminie, sex doesn't have to be like that. Some people like it like that, others don't. It can be as gentle as you want, you know that, right?"

With a whine, he pulls away from you and buries his face in his hands. "God, this is so embarrassing," he moans miserably, "I'm sorry, I'm such a wuss."

"No, stop that," you chastise, softly linking your hands around his delicate wrists and pulling them away from his face, gazing into his puppy brown eyes intensely. "I'm serious, Jiminie, there's nothing wrong with not wanting that. Besides, we... stop me if this is too far, but we don't have to go all the way."

He blinks, lips moving silently before he collects his thoughts. "Do you- what do you mean?"

"Well, instead of going straight to sex, we could do other stuff instead. I could go down on you, if you want. Baby steps, you know? We don't have to rush."

His hands fall down the length of your arm, dropping to your free hand where he fiddles unconsciously with your fingers. "Baby steps?" he echoes.

You beam and nod. "Yeah. But only if you want to, only if you're ready." You carefully detach yourself from him, standing up off the couch. "Just think about it, and when you've made a decision you can-" You cut yourself off when your arm is tugged back by two small hands. "Jiminie?"

"I want it," he confesses decidedly, "I'm ready." His eyes turn soft, and the pressure of his fingers wrapped around your wrist and hand weaken. "Just gentle?"

Your heart melts in an instant and you can't help but stare down at him in wonder. "How are you so perfect?" you breathe, bending down to press a single kiss across his lips. "I'll be gentle, I promise." You go to leave again, but his grip doesn't falter, keeping you rooted. Bottom lip sticking out, Jimin looks up at you with rounded eyes. "Right now?" you ask in surprise. He nods, stutteringly. "Here?"

This causes him to pause. "Maybe...the bed?"

"Whose bed?"

More deliberation. "Y-your bed."

"My bed it is." You lead him, connected by the hands that still latch onto your arm. Your room, unfortunately, is a bit messy, not having expected the turn of events, and you hastily pull up the duvet and pat out the wrinkles, gesturing awkwardly for him to lie down.

Doing so, he hops up and wriggles so that his head is on the pillows, staring directly at the ceiling with startled eyes like a patient in a doctor's office. It would make you laugh if you weren't so worried about him feeling comfortable. "Jiminie," you coo softly, "if you aren't comfortable-"

"Maybe some kissing first," he blurts suddenly, lifting his head off the pillow to look at you, eyes rounded and pleading.

You beam, lying down on your side next to him. "I can't say no to that."

A smile stretches across his lips, which you soon cover with your own, leaning down to press a light kiss against them. He sighs, already relaxing further as his eyes flutter shut, sinking into the pillows.

Fingers splayed across his jaw, you litter countless pecks on his mouth, never more than a brush of pressure, until the bed shakes a little with him kicking out his feet. You pull back, replacing your smile with a look of innocence. "Is that too much, Jiminie?"

He pouts, snaking the arm closest to you around your torso so that you can slip closer. "Don't tease me," he whines, lip and brow crumpling to obtain your sympathy, but avoiding your gaze with red cheeks. "I jus' want you to take care of me."

"Of course I will, Jiminie, I'm sorry," you say with a rueful smile. "But do tell me if it gets too much, okay? I want you to be happy."

He nods, pushing his head back onto the pillow, slightly on an angle to face you. "I will, I promise." His fingers find yours, tentatively intertwining your hands together, eyes low. "Can you kiss me again?"

You answer not with words but with a kiss, a proper one this time, lips pressing intently but still tenderly against his. A relieved sigh leaves his mouth, but it's swallowed up between you, Jimin tightening his arm around you so that your bodies fall flush against each other, one of your legs between his. With closed eyes, the feeling of him against you is even more magical; all plush lips, desperately grasping fingers and trembling body.

Even without a hand free to touch his face - one hand holding his and the other propping you up - you can feel the warmth of his cheeks, an overwhelmed blush that he can't seem to control, and the way he's responding to you triggers a heat inside you too. You deepen the kiss, parting your lips enough to let your tongue run down the seam of his mouth, Jimin letting out a surprised gasp that grants you entry. Though it had been just over three weeks since you'd first kissed him, it had always stayed very light, you waiting for him to make a move. Now, though, you realise that he's probably been waiting for you this whole time.

"'s this okay?" you check in, murmured against his lips.

Jimin shakily takes a breath, nodding in tiny jerks so as not to break the contact. "Ye- keep going," he pleads in a whisper.

Every time your tongue meets his, or swipes over the inner, more sensitive skin of his lips, he gasps, fingers flexing around yours. When adjusting your position, your leg brushes against his crotch and he shudders. He's hard.

Carefully monitoring his reaction even as you continue to move your mouth sweetly against his, you shift your leg again, brushing against the front of his shorts, fabric taut over the crotch. A throaty, keening whine leaves his lips, his mouth going slack. When he speaks, the tiniest puff of air is all that comes out, but you hear him still. "Please."

You let your hand go slack, pulling it down, but Jimin holds on tighter, refusing to let go. With him unable to kiss you back, you press your lips to his cheek, down to his jawline, the sensitive skin just below his ear.

He wriggles beneath you, already overwhelmed with just that simple touch, but also tugs your entwined hands lower between his legs, shifting his hips with a needy whimper.

"You need to let go, Jiminie," you instruct softly, "let go of my hand so I can touch you."

Reluctantly, his fingers untangle from yours, instead gripping onto a handful of your duvet. You take this as a green light to go ahead, and fiddle with the button of his shorts, gently flicking your tongue and sucking gently at the soft point where his jaw meets his neck, a sign of what's to come.

Once you manage to undo his shorts you instruct him to take them off, sitting back to watch him restlessly shuffle out of them, legs lifting so he can grab the fabric while still lying down, folding them and placing them to his other side, close to the wall. After lying flat again, Jimin blinks owlishly at you, hand covering his crotch. You move it aside gently, back to the duvet, and he buries his flaming cheeks into the crook of your shoulder, toes wiggling in embarrassment.

He wears simple white cotton briefs, a narrow trail of near-translucent hair peeking out from above the waistband, legs twisting together self-consciously, though it only makes his straining erection more obvious. "You're gorgeous, Jiminie," you say honestly, "so perfect."

His legs go lax, though they don't shift apart, ankles crossed, though that's okay for now. Not wanting to spook him, you start slow, cupping him over his underwear, thumb locating his sensitive head easily due to the coin-sized wet patch of the fabric above it. His thighs tremble even at the light stimulation, and he shakily lifts his head, pouting and straining for another kiss.

Continuing your slow, shallow circles of your thumb over him to ease him into it, you capture his lips again, shifting the arm propping you up on the pillow so that your hand can cup his head, massaging his scalp and keeping him in place.

"Does it feel good, Jiminie?" you question when you part from him to take a breath.

His eyes stay shut, cherubic lashes fluttering as he sucks his swollen bottom lip into his mouth. "Feels really good," he confirms in a husky yet melodic voice. "Can I have some more?"

"Of course you can, my sweet prince," you allow warmly. Shifting your hand away from his crotch, you smooth your palm over his hipbone, and then up under his t-shirt to brush up his side, making him shiver. "Do you wanna take your shirt off too, or just your underwear?"

His mouth turns down slightly at being made to make a decision, as he blinks his eyes open blearily. "But you still have all your clothes on," he protests faintly.

"I can take my clothes off if it makes you feel comfortable," you offer easily, "it's up to you."

Jimin purses his lips to the side in thought. "Maybe...we both take our shirts off? I- I wanna see you too."

Clearly he hadn't thought it through too much, because his mouth drops open in upset shock when you detangle yourself from him to sit up, shucking your shirt off and helping him to lift off his.

"Am I keeping my shorts on?" you question, but he just shrugs cutely, looking up at you from below his lashes. You smile. "I'll leave them on then, this is about you. Jiminie, can I take your underwear off now?"

With a deep breath, he nods nervously, letting you slide them over his hips and down off his legs, leaving him bare to you. You can see the way his fingers tighten on the duvet, probably with the urge to cover himself again, but you're glad he doesn't

Resting back against his stomach, his cock drips clear fluid onto the tan skin, a glossy patch that you long to run your finger through. You're surprised at just how hard he is, the head a deeply flushed pink and a single vein running up the underside. He's thicker than most you've seen, if a little shorter, and there's a delicate curve to him that makes you long to have him inside you. Not today, though. For now, you simply lie back down beside him, bringing him into a kiss meant to distract.

Rather than going straight towards his dick, though it's probably aching for attention, you instead return your hand to his side, smoothing broad strokes over his overheating skin as your tongue and lips move against his slightly-parted mouth.

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth and very lightly grazing your teeth, you simultaneously thumb at one of his dusky pink nipples, pulling a stuttered moan from his open mouth.

"I wan' you to touch me," Jimin makes out through gasped breaths, chest writhing as you continue to play with his sensitive peak.

"I am touching you," you retort simply.

"Down there!"

Unable to deny riling up the responsive boy, you let the tips of your fingers run down the centre of his chest, right to the bottom of his torso, before skating to the side and skimming down his trembling thigh, gripping the muscled flesh. "Here?" Jimin whines out a no, and you raise your hand higher, pointer finger pressing at his hip bone. "Here?"

Breaking away from your mouth, Jimin wriggles his head in a shake, calling your name unhappily.

Taking mercy, you suddenly reach over and wrap your fingers around his shaft, thumb pressing down on his weeping slit. "Here?"

His back arches and he sucks in a moan, hand reaching over to grip your wrist as his eyes clench tightly shut. "Y-yes," he cries helplessly, curling sideways towards you, head shifting so that his fevered cheek presses against your other hand on the pillow.

"That's it," you coo, stroking up to collect some of the pooling wetness to use as lubricant, heart swelling at the beautiful sounds falling from his parted lips. "I'll take care of you, yeah?"

He nods his head shakily, already seeming so far gone after less than a minute, panting, writhing as you tighten your grip around him just enough to provide more pleasure. "Take care of Minnie," Jimin chants mindlessly, rocking his hips into your grip.

With a fond smile, you sit up, taking your hand off him so you can lower yourself between his legs, parting them with both hands even as he kicks them out in frustration. "Just be patient," you chastise, "I said I'd go down on you, didn't I?"

His breath catches and eyes open wide, marveling at the sight of you lying between his legs. "O-okay," he stammers, swallowing hard. "It'll feel good too?"

"It'll feel even better," you promise, gripping him gently, "just tell me if it's too much."

With bated breath and blown pupils, Jimin waits as you teasingly press kisses up his length, following the raised outline of the vein.

It seems like he's calmed down enough, so you lick a bold stripe up the path you'd set, Jimin's moaned sigh like music to your ears. His thighs are tensed up on your shoulders, and you can see the way his lower abdomen flexes, muscles shifting beneath golden skin.

"Relax, Minnie," you say, "you're okay." He does his best to let his muscles go lax, throwing an arm over his eyes, and you take the chance to put your tongue on him again, this time slowly dipping it into the slit at his tip where precum pools, a burst of tanginess that you can't say you mind. His mouth dangles loosely open, lips a dark pink like his tip with all the blood that's rushed to it. He's beautiful.

"Alright?" you check in, and he gives a shallow nod, tilting his hips up in the search for more stimulation. You continue simply laving your tongue over him for a few moments, getting him used to it, before angling him over your mouth and wrapping your lips around his head, sucking lightly.

With a strangled moan, his legs close like clams on either side of you, back arching clean off the bed. His fingers fisted taut in the duvet, he rocks his upper half side-to-side, other hand clutching at the corner of the pillow. Shocked, you lift yourself off of him, concerned it was too much, but this gets even more of a reaction, a high, needy keen ripping out of his throat as his hips jerk up, hiccuping out a, "ple-ease."

"Oh, Minnie," you coo softly, "did you like it? I didn't want to overwhelm you."

When his arm lowers from across his face, it reveals begging eyes bright with tears. "'S good," he whines, bottom lip trembling, "just got a fright."

Your lips stretch into a disbelieving smile. "A fright? Why; because I sucked?"

One of his hands stretches wide, fingers making grabby motions. You use the hand not currently on his dick to hold onto it and bring it to your mouth, pressing an apologetic kiss to the back of his hand.

Jimin swallows and shakes his head. "C-cause it was so w-warm." The way he hiccups through his words, out of his mind with need and still so sweet, has you melting. "You can do it again, though. I want it."

Acquiescing, still with a comforting grip on his hand, you lower your mouth again, this time going deeper so that the flat of your tongue drags against his underside. His fingers tense around yours, but his legs go lax, instead beginning to rock his hips in place, like his body doesn't know what to do with the pleasure.

The weight of him on your tongue is enough to have you drooling, making the slide even easier as you bob slowly, sucking steadily. On every upstroke, your tongue catches and flicks at the underside of his head, and he jerks each time, breath catching and exhaling in stuttered moans.

He sounds so beautiful above you that you feel your own core heating in need, clenching your thighs with the urge for stimulation. But this is about him, so you push the thought aside and pull up off Jimin's cock so you can focus your attention at his head, which so far seems far more sensitive than the shaft.

It only takes a few deft laps and shallow bobs before his whimpering and squirming beneath you, unable to stay still. His eyes have long since clenched shut, brows knitting with a wide open mouth as he's overcome with pleasure.

You use the hand that holds him steady to jerk off what's not in your mouth, and a low, guttural moan falls out of his mouth, tapering up into a squeak as he suddenly gets harder and spurts into your mouth, convulsing as you lap up all the cum that spills from his tip, swallowing as you go. It's more than you'd usually expect from oral, and you imagine that's a pairing of it being his first time, as well as the fact that he didn't see the type to masturbate often.

He curls up in on himself when the pleasure turns to sharp overstimulation, and you release him, his spent cock lying against his thigh, and you give him a few moments of rest to come down, holding tightly onto his hand and rubbing comfortingly at the outer side of his leg with the other, feeling how strongly he shivers beneath you.

Once he finally calms down, taking deeper breaths, you swing your legs over the bed and stand up, patting the back of his hand as an indication to let go. "You can use my bathroom if you want, Jiminie. Or just take a nap here. I should give you some time."

"Wait," Jimin protests in a low pout, laboriously propping himself up to a sitting position. "Kisses?"

You beam, leaning down to press a fond kiss across his silken lips. "Happy?"

Jimin nods with a blissed-out smile, and you swallow a chuckle at his ruffled honey locks and flushed cheeks. "So happy."

"I'm glad to hear it, my sweet prince," you coo, "but if you want more kisses, I better go brush my teeth."

--

The second report comes and goes, approved. More and more days are met with rain as the seasons change, and gradually Jimin becomes more comfortable with you, the two of you making the choice one day to push your two beds together after Jimin had rolled out of your bed one too many times from falling asleep cuddling. He promises he'll come to you when he's ready to take the next step, but as your final month counts down, a dark cloud begins to hover over the two of you. The fact that he'll have to go home soon. Too soon.

You hate that you've got a mental countdown blaring in your mind, but speaking to Jimin about it makes it real, and so you promise yourself later, always later that you'll bring it up, letting yourself make him tea and breathe his scent and feel his lips on yours in ignorant bliss just a bit more.

That works until you don't have any laters left. That works until you sit on his bed with a cup of lukewarm tea, watching him pack his bags. "Are you looking forward to going back?" you ask in a small voice.

Jimin, looking like a vision even in a ratty pink t-shirt and plain shorts, pauses with an armful of textbooks. "I'm... I'm excited to see Tae again," he answers with a nostalgic smile. "We've been chatting online a bunch lately. He's going to pick me up from the airport."

You have to bite down hard on your lip to prevent the sting of tears. "Does he know? About us?"

With indecision clear on his face, Jimin runs a hand through his hair, pushing back the strands that always seem to fall on his face, long overdue for a haircut. "I- To be honest, I don't really know what to say. I don't even know what to say to you."

"About what?"

"About us," he emphasises, dropping his textbooks with a thud on the floor and sitting on top of his first filled suitcase. "We never really had a conversation about it, you know? I know we should've, but... I don't really know where we go from here."

You nod, staring into the murky depths of your now-unappetising tea. "Well... We know you have to go back to Korea. To argue your thesis."

"Defend my thesis," he corrects softly, "but yes. Other than that, though, I still need to go over it with my supervisor, there are a few rounds of editing and finalising. It- it's not like a week back to finish off. I'll be there for a while. Probably a couple months at minimum."

"Minimum? I guess you'll stay there."

Jimin rests his elbows on his knees, head ducked and propped up in his hands. "I- I know what I want to do, but I'm scared to ask the question."

You frown. "The question?"

He looks up, takes a deep breath. "If I... If I wanted to come back, would you wait for me?"

"Come back?" you repeat, barely breathing.

Jimin's eyes glint; he's trying not to cry. "I didn't wanna speak too soon, but the more I think about it, I don't think I can just leave and never come back. I'm in love with you, Y/n. For a long time, now."

Your nose prickles violently, and you let out a shaky breath. "I love you too, Jiminie, so much. Of course I'll wait. As long as you promise you will come back to me."

Jimin nods, brushing back his hair again. "I've been thinking about that too."

You furrow your brows, putting the mug of tea onto his nightstand. "Coming back?"

"A promise," he clarifies. "To show that you're the one for me. That I wanna be with you." He takes a breath to steady himself. "I want to do it tonight, before I go. Have sex."

You sit upright, eyes widening. "Are you sure? Jimin, that's a big deal."

"Like I said, I've been thinking about it. I'm ready, and there's nobody I'd rather do it with than you. I trust you, and... and I love you."

"I love you too," you reply softly, and it feels even more right to say the second time, an unfurling of pure joy in your heart.

"Can we do it now?" he asks immediately, brows lifting to emphasise his pleading puppy eyes.

"Jiminie, you haven't even finished packing-"

"That doesn't matter," he interjects, "I can do that tomorrow morning, the shuttle comes at 10. I need you now, Y/n." He stands up only to crouch at the bedside beside you, grasping your hands. "Take care of Minnie again."

Your breath leaves your lungs in one defeated sigh. Like always, you can't say no to him, not that you even want to. "Okay, Minnie. Let's go to my room."

Though you've gone down on him a few times after his first, Jimin hadn't stopped being so sensitive, and so as you lazily make out (Jimin a little more rushed than you), you let your hand dip underneath his shirt, flicking at a nipple with a thumb you'd wet in your mouth moments earlier. Like clockwork, he trembles under your ministrations, this time hunched on top of you, straddling your lap and bending to meet your mouth.

He's gotten far more confident at kissing, and you're in heaven as he holds your face in both hands, licking into your mouth but whimpering from your touch all the while.

With his legs on either side of your hips, you can feel his hardness pressing down on you, already so eager, and you can't help but sigh blissfully when he rocks his hips unconsciously.

"Minnie," you make out between kisses, "too many clothes."

He tries valiantly to remove his shirt while remaining firmly joined at the lips, huffing when he has to sit up to pull it off. You quickly follow suit, but take the added step of removing your bra.

The first time he's seen your breasts, Jimin's mouth drops open, a look of awe glimmering in his eyes. You arch your back, wanting nothing more than for those sinful lips to wrap around your stiff peaks.

"You're so beautiful, my love," he gushes in wonder.

"You can touch," you whisper, though really it's code for please touch.

Chest heaving, he cups your breasts with gentle hands, thumbs skimming over the sensitive nipples like you'd done to him. The electricity of his slightly calloused fingertips on your skin is sent right to your core, and you let out a shaky breath, his hands rising and falling with it.

"Good?" he questions softly, and you nod, sighing out your confirmation. Jimin blinks down at you, wetting his lips. "Can I...?"

Without a second's hesitation, you nod, hoping he means what you think he means. You're proven right when he ducks his head, hot mouth latching onto your right nipple. The contact sends a bolt of arousal through you and you whimper as he immediately begins to suck, hard.

"Jimin," you make out in a strangled voice, taken aback by his sudden vigor. "Oh, god, it's so go-"

"Minnie," he interrupts, bringing his face up to your neck without lifting his mouth so that he leaves a wet trail ran behind him, "it's Minnie."

You laugh breathily, but your grin drops away to a shocked moan as he hungrily laps at your skin, sucking lovebites over your pulse point in a way that has you arching your neck, desperate for more. "Fuck, Minnie, where did this come from?"

"Wanna make you feel good," you hear in a muffled sigh, feeling the vibration on your skin. With a boldness you hadn't associated with him before, Jimin reaches between you and rolls your other nipple between his fingers, grasping at the flesh and tugging roughly.

Though it feels better than you'd like to admit, something's wrong, and you pull him away. "Wait, wait," you ease, struggling to detach both his hand and mouth from you. Once he realises you want him off you, he sits up with the confused look of a kicked puppy. "Do you not like it?"

His hands hang limply at his sides, and you interlock your fingers to reassure him. "Minnie, how come you're acting like this? You've never been this way before."

He blinks, a dimpled line between his brows where he furrows them. "Because we're having sex," he answers in an uncertain tone, "and I wanted to make you feel good. Is it not right?"

Belatedly, you recall a conversation you'd had about a month ago, about his friend's sexual habits. Poor Jimin really had internalised one man's preferences as the rule of thumb and taken it to heart. "Minnie," you say in a soft voice, and his face crumples, sending a spike of pain through your heart. "It's not wrong, it's just not...us, is it? Don't you want it to be gentle?"

Jimin sniffs, turning his head to the side, but not before you glance a tear tracking down his cheek. "I- Yeah, I like gentle. But Taehyungie-"

"Was Taehyung in love with the people he was having sex with?" you cut in to ask. "I don't want you to fuck me, Minnie, I want you to make love to me."

Sat on your lap, he looks so small, sniffling away. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," you coo, "don't think about how anyone else does it. Let's just do what feels good for us. You wanna do that?"

Jimin nods with a rueful pout, quietly leaning down so that he was lying on your bare chest, face tucked into the crook of your neck.

"Oh, sweetie," you murmur into the waves of his honey-blonde hair, a hand coming down to rub over his back. "We'll have all the time in the world when you get back to try new things if you want. I just want to make this one special for you, yeah? What do you wanna do, Minnie? Do you want to be on top or do you want to lie down?"

He shifts, relaxing within your embrace. When he speaks, you have to strain to hear it. "I- I thought maybe both of us lying down. Under the covers so it's comfy." He lifts his head back to meet your eyes. "Can we still face each other?"

You brush back his hair with a fond smile, nodding. "Of course. Do you wanna finish getting undressed and we can both get under the covers, hm?"

Your duvet is the thinnest possible one you could find, but even so, it feels like a furnace when the two of you curl up, lying on your sides to face each other.

Jimin seems considerably more calm and content with his setup, giggling as you plant kisses all over his face.

"Happy?" you ask, just to be sure, and Jimin nods decisively, eyes bright no longer with tears but with warmth and love. "Ready?"

He nods again, humming in confirmation, so you run a hand over his shoulder, down his side and dipping over his crotch to take a hold of him, being able to better see his pleasured expressions as you stroke him to full hardness.

Having his face so close, though, is too much of a temptation, and so you lean forward to capture his lips again, deeper this time, hooking a leg over his hips.

One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, and he sighs beautifully into your mouth. "So happy," he mumbles, and your heart leaps as his lips form the words.

Reaching between your spread legs to gather some wetness - which is more abundant than you were expecting, though you've been aching for stimulation down there for a while - you use it to slick Jimin's cock up, preparing him for an easier entry.

His breathing stutters with a hitched moan, already starting to shiver. You smile at his responsiveness, before focussing on lining him up, head dipping just slightly into you.

You can tell the exact moment Jimin realises he's inside you by the way he goes stock still, holding his breath in anticipation. "Still okay?" you confirm, and he mumbles the affirmative.

Unable to keep kissing as you push your hips down on him, you simply pant into his mouth, moaning as he fills you out.

The elegant upwards curve of his cock means that it presses along your top wall, making your thighs jerk when his tip hits your g-spot. "You're so good inside me, Minnie," you praise against his lips, groaning throatily when you finally take all of him, "do I feel good?"

He bites his lip with a whimper, hand on your hip moving to grasp clumsily at your ass cheek, like he wants to make sure he stays buried inside. "It's so tight," he gasps, "I- oh god, it's amazing, I love you so much."

You giggle lightly at his odd choice of timing on the love confession, inadvertently clenching around him which makes Jimin let out a stuttered high keen, curling inwards and jerking his hips to thrust shallowly.

You hiss in a breath, not expecting him to move so soon, but the feeling of being full, of it being Jimin hitting those spots inside you, is too addictive to stay still for much longer.

You start rutting against him in a slow rock, so that he doesn't quite slip all the way out of you before you grind back down, and his hand tenses on the meat of your ass, mouth falling slack.

With no urge to pick up the pace, you simply let Jimin and you enjoy the sensations of being connected on such an intimate level, nosing his chin back so that you can lap tenderly at the skin of his neck, picking a sensitive spot just above his collarbone to softly suck a reminder, something he can take back to Korea with him.

The thought of him leaving makes your heart sink, and to fill the void you begin to pick up your pace, building a delicious heat low in your stomach that has you moaning every breath. "M-minnie, I'm getting close, can you cum with me?"

"Y-yeah, I wanna cum. With- With you," he pants with a full-body shudder, hand leaving your ass to slide up to your back, pressing between your shoulder blades to hold you to him, gasping prettily into the air until you lift your head away from his neck to join your lips again, kissing him like it's oxygen.

You take the chance to slip a hand down and rub at your aching clit, and the extra sensation has you bearing down on him, causing him to start meeting your thrusts halfway.

Like a chain reaction, the pleasure between the two of you skyrockets until you meet your edge, toes curling and rocking needily against him, wanting to feel him fall apart too.

He cums with a high shout, gripping desperately onto your shoulder as he rides the intense waves, ebbing as you throb rhythmically around him with the force of your orgasm.

The two of you pant, mouths connected but too blissed out to properly kiss, and slowly your hips still, bodies wracked with aftershocks for a few minutes of nothing but the sound of you catching your breath.

Surprisingly, it's Jimin that speaks up first, eyes at half-mast as he nuzzles his nose against yours. "Can we stay like this? Sleep like this?"

In his vulnerable eyes, you read the fear of reality, of the fact that he's really leaving tomorrow. You can't say no to Jimin, never have been able to, but neither do you want to.

Instead, you simply press one last, tired kiss across his swollen lips. "Goodnight, Jiminie. I love you."

An almost inaudible sigh of relief. "I love you too."

--

It’s a day off.

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

You’re happy to be up early, though, because you're waiting for someone.

You always take this time of the morning to sit on the porch and drink a cup of tea, but today is different. You've already set up the spare room with a blow-up mattress, keeping the two single beds pushed together in your room. The fridge is stocked thanks to an antsy trip to Quito yesterday, and all night you were filled with restless energy.

Now, though, a sense of calm washes over you like deja vu. A contented warmth that blooms inside you when you finish your hot tea, eyes on the far end of the campground where you can see two figures chatting back and forth.

You stand, but you don't rush over, knowing they'll come to you. The short blonde, paler after returning from Korea, and at his side, a taller, dark-haired figure. Even though you've never met this second man, you recognise the boxy smile he wears as he glances around the campsite in wonder. The same smile that you'd first seen in a framed photo in Jimin's room.

A hand on his friend's back, Jimin points out your cabin, his eyes finding yours, crinkling shut with the radiant beam that stretches across his face.

Home.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

confiding over cuddles

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Roman & Remus. Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, both pre-relationship and during the relationship.  Warnings: Language. First scene has mentions of being outed, religious homophobia, the implication of the f-slur having been used (the actual word is never on the page), and could maybe come across as critical of Christianity although I intend it more as critical of the homophobia. All of this is kept vague and not gone into in great detail. In the second scene, there are a couple of lines that are implied to be suggestive, but no other warnings. Word count: 4657

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My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Throughout the years, vulnerability has always been easiest for Virgil and Logan while cuddling.

Notes: Day 3 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Yes, I’m posting it a day late, but I technically finished it before midnight last night, lol. Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read.  Remus uses he/they pronouns in this universe. 

part 1 - nightmares “Virgil?” Logan said quietly, looking up from the textbook he’d spread open on the floor of Virgil’s dorm room.

Virgil flinched, startled in spite of the soft tone and not too eager for conversation. “What?” he mumbled, dragging his headphones off one ear. He wasn’t actually listening to anything—he’d put them on to avoid conversation—but apparently now they were having a conversation anyway.

“I’m sorry if I am overstepping, but you don’t seem like you’re doing okay.” Logan looked up at him with wide, earnest dark brown eyes. “If there is anything I can do to help, I would really like to.”

Virgil heaved a sigh, considering his options. He hadn’t had time to cancel their normal study session, and when Logan had picked up on his distress at the beginning of the visit, Virgil had insisted it was fine and Logan didn’t have to leave. Logan had taken him at his word and settled in, sprawling on Virgil’s floor while Virgil curled up on his bed and hugged his pillow, avoiding homework and everything else too, to wallow about—well. The reason he would have canceled if he’d had five minutes’ more notice.

On the one hand, it was kind of personal, and Logan was a good enough friend (not a crush, not a crush, not a crush—) that he’d certainly be understanding if Virgil said he didn’t want to talk about it.

On the other hand, Logan had offered to help, and the opportunity to seek comfort from a pretty, thoughtful boy with nice hair and eyes and lips and hands and—but this wasn’t a crush, so none of that mattered, obviously—well, regardless, it was a tempting opportunity.

“Can I talk about it?” Virgil asked in a voice that came out smaller and more vulnerable than he intended.

Logan nodded at once, closing his textbook and climbing to his knees. “Is it okay if I come up there?”

Virgil nodded, patted the space on the bed beside himself, and scooted over to make room. Logan joined him, clambering onto the bed and laying down beside him with a good few inches of space between them, propping his chin up on his elbows. “What’s up?” he asked, focusing all his attention on Virgil.

This close proximity had the unintended side effect of shorting out Virgil’s brain for a solid three seconds. “Uh.” He tore his eyes away from Logan’s face. “I… so I have this friend, right? He used to be my best friend. When we were kids. I haven’t really talked to him at all in a few years.”

Logan nodded.

“So, uh.” Virgil hesitated, fidgeting with his phone. “I guess somebody outed me to him. And he wasn’t okay about it.”

Logan sucked in a concerned hiss of air, half-reaching for Virgil’s shoulder and stopping himself partway through the motion. “Are you okay?”

Virgil nodded on instinct, thought about it, and then shook his head. “He texted me out of the blue about it and offered to pray for me.” His voice shook. “And I—I told him no thanks, I like being gay.” He swiped aimlessly back and forth on his homescreen, opening a folder of apps and then closing it, just so he had something else to focus on than the words he was saying. “He got mad. Called me a—a, a… you know.”

“Oh my god,” Logan murmured in a hushed, horrified tone, and this time he did put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m so sorry, Virgil.”

Virgil let out a little hiccup of a laugh that held no humor but was a way to avoid bursting into tears. He drew the back of his hand across his eyes. “I blocked his number right before you got here,” he mumbled.

Logan nodded. “Good.”

“But he’s been messaging me on Instagram this whole time,” Virgil added with a grimace. “I haven’t been opening them, but…” Right on cue, a notification banner popped up across the top of his screen, previewing a message that contained more of the same stuff he’d been seeing flash across his screen for the last half hour.

“Block him there too,” Logan said instantly. “He doesn’t deserve your time.”

Virgil brushed at the corners of his eyes, swiping away the tears that were threatening to accumulate. “I—I don’t want to open it,” he admitted, voice cracking. “If I open the app, I know I’m going to read all of the messages, and I don’t want to.”

Logan was already shaking his head. “No, don’t read them, oh my god—please don’t read them, please don’t hurt yourself like that.”

“I don’t want to,” Virgil repeated, burying his face in the bedcovers for just a second to hide the tears he couldn’t quite hold back.

Logan’s hand cautiously crept from his shoulder to his back, where it began rubbing soothing circles between his shoulderblades. “Is there any way I can help?” he asked after a moment, his voice almost calm enough to hide his own distress. “I could block him for you, if you want. That way you wouldn’t have to handle the app at all.”

Virgil considered this. He didn’t like the idea of others going through his phone, ever, full stop. But he really didn’t like the idea of opening the Instagram app himself and seeing the little red notification in the corner and inevitably clicking it against all his common sense and scrolling through the messages, reading them over and over again, and maybe trying to reason with the guy about Virgil’s own humanity, even though all that would do was invite a dozen more paragraphs of hurt to read and internalize and argue about, and it would only turn into a vicious cycle of never-ending emotional damage. Not ideal.

And he trusted Logan. He still didn’t like the idea of handing Logan his unlocked phone, but it was a lot less bad than the idea of pretty much anyone else having that access, and it was probably way less bad than trying to do it himself and just hoping he’d somehow have the willpower to leave well enough alone when he knew he didn’t trust himself to do that.

“Can I watch you do it?” he asked, turning his head to the side so he could make suddenly-tired eye contact.

“Of course,” Logan said gently. “Whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”

Virgil worried at his bottom lip with his teeth for a moment, then unlocked the phone with a quick hard press of his thumb and passed it to Logan, wincing slightly.

“Instagram?” Logan asked, finger hovering over the app and waiting for Virgil’s confirmation.

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

Logan opened the app and, waiting at each step for Virgil’s next instruction, blocked the guy without opening any of the messages sitting in Virgil’s DMs. “Does he have any other accounts?”

“I don’t think so,” Virgil mumbled.

“I’m glad. Are there any other methods he has of contacting you that you’d like to block him on?” Logan offered the phone back.

Virgil accepted it gratefully, his shoulders untensing a little. “I guess Snapchat.” He looked up the account and blocked it. “I deleted my Facebook ages ago.” He drummed his fingers on his lips, thinking. “I don’t have a ton of social media, I think that’s everything.”

Logan nodded, visibly relaxing. “Do you need anything? Any kind of support, or anything?”

“I dunno,” Virgil mumbled. He rolled over onto his back. “It just… it sucks.”

“It really does,” Logan agreed.

Virgil forced out a dry chuckle. “Guess I didn’t need that many friends, anyway,” he said, trying hard to make the situation into something amusing. It didn’t particularly work. “It’s not like most people like me, what’s one less?”

“I like you!” Logan protested, his voice much louder than it had been for the last ten minutes. He froze, looking anywhere but Virgil’s face. “I, I like you a lot. You’re a very good friend,” he added, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve, his expression flustered.

Virgil set that aside to overthink for ages later. “Uh. Thanks. You—you too,” he managed.

They were both very quiet for a moment, Logan’s fidgeting only increasing as Virgil chewed anxiously on the inside of his cheek.

“Is there anything you need right now?” Logan asked again, just as the tension between them began to become uncomfortable.

Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I don’t know… are you busy?”

“Not until my next class, which is at noon tomorrow,” Logan assured him.

“I don’t want to be a bother—”

“I enjoy spending time with you, and you are clearly distressed and I’d like to help if I can,” Logan interrupted, “and you are my friend and I care about you very much, and it is not bothering me to ask whatever you want. If I want to say no, I will.”

Well. He had covered all his bases when it came to anticipating Virgil’s hesitations.

“Would you mind staying for a bit?” Virgil blurted. “To help me keep my mind off it? I—I don’t want to be alone. I think too much.”

Logan’s expression softened into something so tender it almost hurt to look at. “Of course,” he agreed easily. “As long as you like.”

“Thank you,” Virgil whispered.

“Anytime.” Logan fidgeted with his sleeve a bit more, not looking at Virgil. “Um. Would you like to cuddle?” he asked hesitantly after a minute.

Virgil wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “What?”

“There are several physiological and neurological benefits to—” Logan began, determinedly not looking at Virgil’s face.

“No, I believe you,” Virgil interrupted, and in a surge of daring, added: “Sure.”

Logan blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Oh! Alright.” He shifted closer, carefully closing the gap between them like he was afraid of doing it wrong, and arranged himself against Virgil’s side with his head on Virgil’s shoulder and his arm draped across Virgil’s chest.

Virgil’s own arm curled around Logan easily, like it was meant to go there. Virgil ignored (mostly) his rapid heartbeat and how soft Logan’s hair was where it brushed against his cheek.

“Do you want to know something totally stupid?” Logan asked.

“Sure,” Virgil said, wondering where this was going.

“I’m scared of the space under my bed.” Logan half chuckled.

Virgil blinked. That had been kind of out of the blue. “What?”

“I’ve tried to rationalize it away. I know it doesn’t make sense.” Logan sounded half amused, like maybe he was trying to cover up some mild embarrassment with humor. “But ever since I was a little kid, it’s scared me. It was worse when I was little, I would have nightmares about it and everything. But it still makes me kind of nervous to just have empty space there. I like to fill it up.”

“That’s fair,” Virgil said. He understood irrational fears. “How come you’re telling me, though? Like, not in a judgemental way,” he added quickly, feeling Logan’s shoulders tense just slightly. “Just wondering where that came from.”

“Ah.” Logan relaxed again. “I am attempting vulnerability. You just shared what seemed like a pretty personal moment with me, and I know that can feel uncomfortable. I am trying to level the playing field a little.”

Virgil couldn’t help but smile. “That’s really sweet, Lo,” he said.

“I am just trying to be a good friend.” Logan shrugged one shoulder, but Virgil could hear the happy note in his voice.

“I was scared of going places by myself when I was little,” Virgil said. “Actually, that came from a nightmare, too.” He laughed a little.

“No, hey!” Logan protested. “Now it’s uneven again!”

“I don’t think that’s how vulnerability works,” Virgil told him, only teasing a little bit. “Friendship isn’t math, it doesn’t have to match on both sides. Besides, I got over that one, mostly. It’s all good.”

Logan nodded slowly in acceptance, rubbing his thumb back and forth across Virgil’s shoulder. “Alright.” He half sat up, but only took his glasses off and reached to put them on the sidetable, then lay back down, cuddling up even more cozily against Virgil once again, making a small noise of content.

“What have you been up to lately?” Virgil asked, his voice hardly above a whisper, because he needed there to be some kind of conversation. Not just to distract himself from the unpleasant stuff of earlier, although that was still a part of it, but also so that he could avoid examining the current situation too hard. Because Logan was just a friend, just a friend, and Virgil couldn’t afford to risk ruining a friendship as wonderful as this one with a big gay crush on his friend.

“Getting used to my new board position in the astronomy club,” Logan said. “And a lot of reading for my classes.”

“You’re the Vice President this year, right?” Virgil asked. Almost without thinking about it, he raised his hand to stroke Logan’s hair, which was just as soft against his fingertips as it had felt against his cheek.

Logan let out a soft sigh of content at the touch, nestling his head a little more snugly against Virgil’s shoulder, and coincidentally fucking melting Virgil’s heart into a puddle of goo. This whole not-a-crush thing was getting to be a serious problem.

“Yes, I’m the Vice President,” Logan confirmed. “I was the secretary last year, so I kind of know the ropes, but I have very different responsibilities this time. So that’s been interesting.”

“Tell me about it,” Virgil invited.

Logan did tell him about it, and then he asked Virgil what he’d been up to, and Virgil got to talk about a research project he was helping one of his favorite professors out with, and that led to telling each other stories about their favorite professors and classes (and some of the bad ones, too), and that led to stories about their friends, and Logan was looking up at Virgil with a soft gaze that Virgil could have stared into forever, and he really didn’t know what was up with Logan of all people’s sudden desire to cuddle, but he wasn’t asking questions because this was kind of the best thing that had happened in forever.

When, much later, the conversation slowly died down and Logan’s voice trailed off into a sleepy noise that he stifled against Virgil’s shoulder, scrunching his whole face up into a yawn, Virgil only tugged at the piled-up blanket he was leaning against until it half-covered the pair of them. Maybe the more responsible thing to do would have been to rouse Logan so he could go home to his apartment, but when Logan shifted closer to him and held him a little tighter, his eyes drifting shut, Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

And he’d meant for it to only be a brief nap, really he had. He hadn’t planned to drift off himself as well. He could’ve sworn he only closed his eyes for a second or two—but when he opened them, sunlight was streaming through the window, and Logan was still there, still in Virgil’s arms cuddled close against his chest. Logan was wide awake now, but he seemed perfectly content to just lie there and examine Virgil’s face, a funny look in his eyes and a tiny smile on his lips.

“Hi,” Virgil said blearily, blinking at him. Then he processed where they were and what had happened. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I should have woken you up,” he began, half sitting up, his voice coming out a sleepy mumble that probably wasn’t anywhere near intelligible.

“No, it’s fine,” Logan assured him, gently pushing him back down. “I don’t mind.”

Virgil was half of a mind to keep apologizing, but it was very warm and he was still barely awake and Logan was so soft and nice, so all in all it was much easier to just lie there and accept the cuddles.

“Are you doing better?” Logan asked quietly.

It took Virgil a minute to fully remember the events of yesterday and figure out what he was referencing. “Oh. Uh, I guess. Like, it still sucks, but I’m going to be okay, you know? And this is nice, anyway.”

Logan nodded, resting his head on Virgil’s chest as if to listen to his heartbeat. “Yes. This is very nice.”

[4 years later]

part 2 - dreams  “Come to bed,” Logan said. “You have been scrolling through Tumblr for the past twenty-seven minutes, you can do that just as well while snuggling me.”  

“I’ve been attacked,” Virgil said lightly, shutting off his laptop and turning around to face his boyfriend. Logan was sitting in bed in his pajamas, leaning back against the headboard of their bed, a book in his hands and the covers pulled up over his lap. Virgil smiled. “Let me go brush my teeth and then I’ll come cuddle you, babe.”

“Acceptable,” Logan agreed with an answering smile, his eyes flicking up briefly from the pages to meet Virgil’s own.

Virgil brushed his teeth in the little bathroom of the apartment Logan had shared with the twins in the two years since they’d all graduated college. Before reemerging, Virgil changed into the old t-shirt and flannel pajama pants he’d brought with him—he usually stayed overnight on the weekends these days, and this one was no exception.

Roman, sitting at the kitchen table poring over a wad of papers that were probably a script from the local community theatre’s latest production, waved at Virgil as he exited the bathroom. “G’night, Virge,” he called.

“Night, Ro,” Virgil responded, and for good measure, he added, “night, Remus.”

Remus, somewhere out of sight, cackled. “Have fun getting—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Virgil interrupted automatically, without any real bite, making his way back into Logan’s room and shutting the door behind himself.

Logan smiled at the sight of him, pulling back the covers invitingly. Virgil snagged his phone off of Logan’s desk on his way over, climbing into the bed and curling up with his head in Logan’s lap.

Logan let out a small, pleased sigh, resting his hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Happy?” Virgil asked, reaching up to touch Logan’s face.

Logan nodded. “Very.”

Virgil chuckled and half sat up so he could reach to kiss Logan, then settled himself back where he’d been and unlocked his phone, scrolling through Tumblr without paying too much attention. Logan’s hand came to rest lightly on the back of his head, and after a moment began stroking his hair.

He turned a page, then after a minute closed the book and set it down.

Virgil looked up. His boyfriend was gazing down at him, face scrunched up just slightly the way it always did when he was thinking hard about something.

“You good?” Virgil asked.

Logan started slightly. “Oh! Yes.” His hand, which had drifted to a stop at the base of Virgil’s skull, resumed gently stroking Virgil’s hair.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Virgil asked.

Logan was quiet for a beat, then met Virgil’s eyes. “Would you like to get married?”

Virgil choked on air. “What?”

“Married,” Logan repeated, a little shy this time. “You and I. Would you be interested in doing that?”

“I—” Virgil found himself at a loss for words. “I don’t know? Maybe?” He sat up, shutting off his phone and setting it on the sidetable. “I’m sorry—are you proposing to me in our pajamas?”

“No,” Logan said emphatically, frowning. “This is not a proposal. This is so we can talk about it ahead of time, so that if you do want it, then you won’t need to be anxious when I do propose.”

Virgil blinked, processing that. “Wow.” He reached over and brushed his thumb lightly across Logan’s cheek. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Logan’s brow smoothed out and his shoulders visibly untensed. “I love you too.” He put his hand over Virgil’s where it rested on his cheek, cradling it tenderly. He closed his eyes. “And you don’t need to have an answer right now. We can have this conversation whenever you like. I just… wanted to bring it up. Because I would like that, if you are also amicable.” He turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to the palm of Virgil’s hand.

Virgil hooked a finger in the collar of Logan’s pajama shirt and drew him close for a soft kiss. “Come lay down and cuddle me properly, nerd.”

Logan obediently set his book down on the sidetable beside Virgil’s phone, pulled off his glasses, and set those down too. With some shuffling of limbs, the two of them lay down, Virgil curled up in Logan’s arms. To anyone else, Logan would have seemed perfectly relaxed, content to lay there and press the occasional kiss to Virgil’s forehead; but Virgil could sense the slight tension in Logan’s face. He was nervous, even if he was trying hard not to show it.

Virgil’s own thoughts were whirling. Did he want to get married? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it. But they were both still so young. Marriage was so big. Even if they’d been dating for more than four years at this point, that was barely more than a blip in the really long run. And what if they found out too late that they disagreed on something important? What if Logan wanted to take out a huge mortgage, or move across the country, or have kids? (Okay, they’d talked about kids, and both felt super hesitant, not-yet-ready at best, about the whole idea. But what if Logan changed his mind?)

(But also… waking up to Logan’s face every morning. Waking up to coffee with Logan and sleepy yawns. Casual touches on the elbow or shoulder or wrist or waist or cheek throughout the day, little reminders of love that were almost thoughtless in their routine. A home that would be just theirs. They could get a pet, if they wanted. They could paint stars on the ceiling or walls. They could cook dinner together every night. They could stay up late watching old TV shows and making snarky commentary back and forth. They could be each other’s home.)

Logan was watching Virgil’s face intently, even as he did his best to play it cool. Virgil met his eyes. “So,” he began, struggling to find the right words for what he wanted to convey. “I—I don’t know what I want. Or. I guess I kind of do. But I’m nervous.”

“We don’t have to,” Logan said quickly. “I mean. Obviously. But I don’t want you to—to feel pressured, or anything, to say anything one way or the other or to have to even say anything at all or—”

“Hey,” Virgil interrupted soothingly as Logan’s voice sped into anxious overdrive. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Logan sucked in a breath. He nodded. “I—sorry.”

Virgil shook his head and leaned across the few inches between them to kiss Logan. “Babe, I just told you I’m nervous. It’s fine if you are too.”

“I’m not nervous—” Logan began. He cut himself off at the wry look Virgil gave him. “I—okay, fine. But it’s not a big deal.”

“Hmm, disagree.”

“But the whole point was so I could support you if you felt—”

“L. Babe. Light of my life. You get nervous when you’re vulnerable. I get it.”

Logan bit his lip and reached for Virgil’s hand. He held it tightly.

Virgil squeezed back and snuggled closer under the covers. “Anyway, uh.” He paused for a second to make sure he knew how he wanted to say it. “I—I still don’t know exactly what I want to say about that idea. But I know the answer is definitely not a no.”

Logan breathed in, not quite sharply enough to be a gasp. “Oh,” he breathed, letting go of Virgil’s hand so he could caress his face.

“Does that make sense?” Virgil asked. “Like, I don’t yet know how or when I want it. But I—I think I want to, eventually, and I really want it to be you.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, his voice coming out a little choked. “Yeah, that—that’s good.”

Virgil half smiled. “Kiss?” he asked.

Logan was reaching for him before he even finished the word, pulling him close and clinging to him as he kissed the breath from Virgil’s lungs like he never wanted to let go. Virgil wrapped his own arm around Logan, holding him just as tightly, and cupped Logan’s face with the hand that was trapped between the two of them.

“I love you,” Virgil whispered as they pulled apart, and now he was choking up a little too.

Logan pressed their foreheads together. “I love you so much.”

They were both quiet for a moment, holding each other close.

“I think it’d be nice to get one of those really fancy coffee machines,” Virgil whispered after a minute. “Someday. For our someday kitchen.” He enjoyed Logan’s sudden intake of breath and the way his eyes widened slightly at the word our. “The kind that can make espresso, and shit,” Virgil went on. “We could try out all different kinds of things. And I wouldn’t tell anybody how much sugar you always put in your coffee.”

“I put a normal amount of sugar in my coffee,” Logan protested, a smile quirking onto his face.

“L, I love you, but that is maybe the least true thing you have ever said in your life.” Virgil snickered.

“Shut up,” Logan whined, pushing lightly at Virgil’s shoulder with an answering grin.

Virgil leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s cute.” He hesitated for a beat. “What would you want? In your dream future?”

“You,” Logan responded immediately.

Virgil pressed a hand to his mouth. He absolutely should have seen that one coming, but he hadn’t, and the surprise made the pang of fondness in his chest all the sweeter. “Logan,” he managed after a minute.

Logan only grinned, looking very pleased with himself. “A coffee machine does sound very nice, too, though,” he added. “And space for you to keep an instrument.”

“Oh,” Virgil breathed, lighting up at the idea. “Yeah, that sounds really good. I’d want a library for all your stupid nerdy books.”

Logan put a hand on Virgil’s cheek. “I’d want a kitchen table that we both picked out together.”

Virgil grinned. “A couch to hold you on.”

“A wall full of art that we both like.”

“Windows so there’s light everywhere and you can see the stars at night.”

“A pantry full of our favorite foods.”

“A bed to—”

“Virgil!”

“Whaaat?”

“We were being cute!” Logan smacked his arm lightly. “Remus is a bad influence on you,” he accused, though Virgil could see he was trying not to laugh.

“I mean, probably,” Virgil allowed, grinning. “But maybe I was just going to say a bed to sleep in. And cuddle in. And perfectly innocent things like that. Maybe you’re the one Remus is a bad influence on.”

“I—” Logan struggled for a second, then broke down into snickers.

Virgil grinned, wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist and enjoying the sound of his laughter.

“Were you going to say something like that, though?” Logan asked, composing himself.

“Oh, no, absolutely not.” Virgil snickered. “You were right, I was going to ruin the cutesy vibe we had going on there, one hundred percent. But you’re really cute when you laugh, so no regrets.”

“Hmm,” Logan hummed, leaning closer. “You know when else I’m really cute?”

“When?” Virgil breathed.

“When I’m kissing you,” Logan murmured, and closed the gap between their lips.

Virgil kissed back, eyes fluttering shut and hands sliding a little more securely around Logan’s waist. In his opinion, Logan made a very compelling point.

[pinkhairedlily]

Chapter 6 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“When’s your birthday, Sasuke?” Naruto asked unprompted. He was eating an onigiri in one hand and writing in a notebook with another. “Captain Haru gave me a journal and told me to fill in the dates.”

“Why are you treating it like a slam book?”

“What’s a slam book? Why are you even changing the topic?”

“July 23.”

Naruto went silent for a moment as he jotted down Sasuke’s name. “Oh, last week? During our sleepover?”

“You mean, hostage sleepover.”

“Ah shit. We didn’t get you a present. Sorry, grumpy.” Naruto’s face was sincerely apologetic and Sasuke was on the verge of nonchalantly assuring him that it was all right when he heard his following reply. “But make sure you get me one okay. It will be on October 10.”

“I wish I was allowed to physically harm you right now but your training next week will suffice,” Sasuke jested right back. “I’ll put in a word with Haru to make you suffer.” He would have said more clapbacks if they didn’t hear loud footsteps running their way.

Their two heads popped just a few inches above the bushes that lined behind the fence and saw a disheveled Sakura catching her breath with bent knees and her arms full of folders. Sasuke surmised she might have come from a council meeting.

“It’s Sakura – “ Sasuke covered Naruto’s loud mouth with his palm.

Her phone rang inside her skirt’s pockets, and her expression panicked when she saw the caller id. The folders fumbled out of her grasp when she answered it. “Oh hello, Kakashi-sensei.”

Both the boys’ brows raised in curiosity when her voice went a pitch higher.

“Ah, I’m actually out of the campus right now, Sensei. Got an errand to run. I’ll see you for consultations…..soon?” Then she ended the call. They all heard another set of footsteps nearing their location, and Sakura repeatedly said I’m screwed to herself.

Naruto wrestled out of Sasuke’s headlock and pulled a surprised Sakura inside their hiding place. The latter grumbled but quickly gathered the folders from the ground and followed suit. Three heads now looked over the bushes, and true enough, Kakashi appeared in the clearing with his phone in his hand. “That’s funny. I thought I heard her voice here.”

When they were sure he was out of their sight and earshot, Sasuke signaled a thumbs up, and Naruto, not missing a beat, started with the obvious question. “Why are you hiding from our mathematics teacher?”

Sakura blushed with intensity, her cheeks the color of cherry tomatoes with a ripeness Sasuke liked the most. She flushed so intensely she couldn’t hide it for her sake. The thought of wanting to have that kind of privilege crossed his mind. “Uh, he wanted a report from me, but I wasn’t able to finish it.” Like the self-aware person that she was, she immediately got her bearings and recognized the place. “This is behind the library.”

“It’s Sasuke’s favorite hiding place until I barged in. And now, it’s yours too.” Naruto grinned at her even when he just revealed this place’s existence to their student council president.

“Shouldn’t you be asking me permission first?” Sasuke arranged the folders first before returning them to Sakura who seemed to calm down a bit.

She laughed dryly. “Technically, it’s public property so we don’t need your permission…grumpy.”

Naruto erupted in laughter while Sasuke closed his eyes in annoyance. Two loud-mouths in what was supposed to be in his safe space and yet all he felt was just mild annoyance. Stopping his thoughts before they ran him aground, he rummaged through their storage bin and found an extra sandwich he bought this morning and the last pack of his cherry tomato juice.

He passed the food to her and gave her a little bit of scolding. “At least have your lunch first before making fun of me.”

“You’re really giving her a tomato juice?” Naruto never could hide his disgust for certain food. “Don’t tell me this is your rite of passage.”

Sasuke glared at the blonde, forcing him to shut up. “Bring any more people here, and I’ll tell your captain to drag you to hell.” That wasn’t so difficult, given that Haru has taken a liking to him, for what he didn’t know. He just treated him like a big brother would, like Itachi would.

Sakura took a sip in the middle of their banter, and she emitted a surprised sound. “So this is what it tasted like? It’s actually good.”

That was the first time someone liked what he liked, and he vaguely realized he was waiting for her opinion. With that, he had trouble suppressing the smile that started to form on his face, so he looked away and mustered his focus on the nearby yells of a practicing dragonboat team.

“Oh, I forgot, belated happy birthday Sasuke.”

He strengthened his resolve not to turn his head just as quickly because he was sure the shock was visible in his face. He was so taken aback he didn’t hear Naruto ask Sakura where she learned of it.

“I came across our class records during the meeting and saw the date. Sucks we weren’t able to get you a present. Anyway, I gotta run. I have another presentation to the principal for a personal project.” Sakura finished off her sandwich in one bite and ran out of the secluded space.

Naruto stared after her disappearing figure, the bunched-up juice carton and sandwich wrapper in his hands. “I should make her a decent lunch sometime. I don’t think she’s eating well.”

But Sasuke had another observation in mind. “Why didn’t you ask for her birthday?”

“I know already. I asked Hinata about it.”

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

Sakura tried to catch up with the baseball captain in the seniors’ hallways before she would lose him to his after classes dates with Hinata. “Haru, wait up please.”

His brown hair has grown longer to hide his undercut which Naruto wanted to replicate as he often mentioned in between their conversations in classes. It was actually a wonder how the usually demure Hinata gravitated towards Haru who had a strong personality. His annoyed gaze softened when he realized it was her calling him, his smile turning into a wide grin as she raced through the halls.

“No running, Ms. President,” he chided.

Sakura playfully punched his shoulder, her fist’s impact light as she struggled to catch her breath. “Can I at least have some of your time? I promise I won’t take long.”

The captain’s face took on an incredulous look. “How the tables have turned.”

They found themselves on a rooftop, away from the incidental eavesdroppers (if there were any), and moreover they needed some quiet space to talk about important matters. The first of which was the baseball team’s finances.

“I gotta hand this to you rather straightforwardly. The board didn’t foresee your qualification in the preliminaries hence they didn’t allot a big budget for your team – not for training, not for travel expenses, not for uniforms, and miscellaneous expenses.” He towered over her, her height a third short from his shoulders, but when he hunched them forward and leaned against the railings, he was almost shoulder to shoulder with her. “So what are your plans?”

Back in junior high, he would often ruffle her hair out of her immaculate ponytail, and this closeness wasn’t really odd because they were from the same town and grew on the same block. Distance just crept in as they made more friends and entered different circles.

“My personal savings,” Haru simply replied. “Our coach will chip in half of our projected expenses so we’re good to go.”

Sakura sighed. “As always, you don’t like to rely on anyone.”

“We’re not really too far from each other, Sakura. So what’s your plan anyway?” Haru turned with his back this time against the railing.

“Pass-the-Hat.”

Haru nodded. “And your savings.”

Sakura shook her head vehemently. “Hell no.”

“Gears are turning in your head, and I can see you’ll fill in a part with your savings. Stop it, Haruno.”

“I’m telling you, I won’t give you a part of my savings. Anyway – “

“Anyway? There’s more?” Haru hastily looked at his watch to check the time, almost formed a reply, and thought better of it, hiding his wrist from his view.

“I saw your career sheet form. You know you could always try to apply for an athletic scholarship, right?” If she can hazard a guess, Haru may not be planning at all to proceed to college. He always has his father’s fishing business to take over back in their town.

“No association would vet for a player who only qualified for prelims on his senior year.” Haru playfully ruffled her hair, the gesture she thought was once forgotten between them. “So don’t feel sorry for me. I already have Hinata to deal with.”

“You sound so pessimistic when you’re just going away for a year until she decides to follow you. Your story’s almost like a fairytale,” Sakura scoffed.

“First of all, long distance relationships don’t work and second and last of all, there’s her father to think about.” Haru let out a long sigh. “Believe me, Sakura, I want to make it work, but I feel like the distance between us had already set in even before I go.”

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

Haru was right. While Pass-the-Hat garnered lots of amounts enough to shoulder the logistics of the training of the baseball team before the semis, there wasn’t enough to pay for their new equipment. She could ask the teachers, but she knew Haru and the coach have already asked for prior favors. At the last minute before the trip got cancelled, Sakura anonymously put in two-thirds of her savings into the donations pool which the captain got wind of and somehow reached Kakashi.

While she was successful in avoiding him for the first few days of the school trip while Naruto and his team was in Fukuoka, he caught her alone as she was reading the markers outside the walls of a castle.

“Haruno Sakura.” His voice startled her. She turned around, like a good student that she was, and waved a bit too enthusiastically. “Mind telling me why you won’t talk to me outside of our council meetings? Did I say any directive that offended you or overworked you? I need to have an open communication with you kids.”

Kids. “Ah, I was just a little busy these past weeks,” Sakura assured him. She nervously fidgeted with his rubber band that was still on her wrist. His eyes followed her movements, and she hid them quickly behind her back, afraid of what he would say if he realized.

“I heard from the principal that he greenlighted your personal project, and that you will be presenting this to the board next week for a possible funding. You accomplished that on top of the feats you pulled to bring the baseball team to the semis.” As Kakashi recounted her accomplishments, she couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks. She was finding it difficult to say an excuse right now. “So I’m returning your personal donation.”

Sakura stared at him directly, never mind the raven irises that drowned her in undivided attention. “What?” He smiled, highlighting even more his mole, and she gasped, breathless at the sight.

“Don’t worry your pretty head over these things. You’re too young for this. I’ll have the funds downloaded to your bank, all right.” Kakashi patted her head softly and disappeared in the meandering crowds.

She slapped the rubber band against the thin skin of her wrist repeatedly. She didn’t know whether she should feel grateful that her savings were back or feel angry that she was patronized because of her age. Didn’t Kakashi know that teenagers grow up faster than their actual age and that she had every right to worry her pretty head? When will he start seeing her as she was?

Her self-deprecating thoughts ran awry when someone took hold of her wrist that has gone red from the slap of the rubber band.

For someone who alternated between being grim-faced or stoic, Sasuke’s hand was gentle and kind. She knew that ever since she saw him in the café, all the good things in him seeping out through cracks in his wall. Right now, she knew he was worried about the supportless baseball team.

“They’re losing, aren’t they?” Sakura suppressed the overwhelming emotions from her earlier interaction with Kakashi and concocted a plan in her head.

She coordinated with the guides and had them add a stop at the baseball field at Fukuoka for one last hurrah for the team.

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

Thirty minutes later, their school witnessed how the top teams decimated Naruto’s team. No innings won, batters relentless, and Haru got injured. Sakura, sensing the dampened atmosphere among the student body, rallied yells, earning surprised looks from the team members.

Through the crowds, Sasuke saw Hinata, her fingers twirling the ends of her long braid, and her eyes scanning the place for her boyfriend…until her gaze shifted to Naruto. He traversed the space to stand beside her, breaking his own rule to remain uninvolved in other people’s affairs.

But he owed this to Naruto and Haru who never failed to include him in after practice dinners and effectively kept the gaping depression in his apartment away.

“Your boyfriend has a broken arm, but you’re looking at Naruto.” He said, even before he could announce his presence to her.

Hinata turned her face to him and repeated his words. “My boyfriend has a broken arm but I cannot look at broken limbs for too long. Thanks for pointing that out.”

“There’s a second statement after my but.”

“Hmm, my eyes just probably gravitated to him unknowingly. But it couldn’t be helped, right? He just has this bright, sunshine energy.” Hinata shrugged, seemingly confused by her words as well.

Sasuke wanted to prod more but her eyes narrowed at something behind him. When he glanced back, he saw Sakura stood in tiptoes as she hugged a downtrodden Naruto. If he wasn’t so sad, he would have blushed and awkwardly pushed his crush away, but for this instance, he choked back his sobs and eventually cried on her shoulder.

“Maybe the student council can also support other teams which are gearing up for nationals. You may suffer backlash if favoritism becomes obvious.”

He scoffed at Hinata’s advice. “I’ll tell our student council president that.”

Sasuke made his way to the blonde and pinkette, his arms engulfing both of their heads in a very rare hug. He felt Sakura stiffen beneath him while Naruto changed shoulders and cried openly against Sasuke’s shirt.

This he didn’t mind, as long as both of their faces were hidden from her view.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 7

[icantsumupmyfandomsinonenamee]

Okay I did NOT stick to the prompt AT ALL but still

Esther toed off her shoes as pushed the door closed behind herself. She shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the hook near the door, and pulled off her mask as she padded to the bathroom to wash her hands.

She hummed 'row your boat' under her breath as she lathered them up, rinsed them off, dried them, and then headed into the kitchen.

It was Christmas eve. As every year, though, she got home late. She worked in a Jewish office, after all, and no one had any reason to leave early.

She noticed the message indicator beeping on her landline, so she pressed the play button as she walked by it to check what she might have in the fridge.

Leftover shabbat food, leftover last-night's-dinner… raw flanken for a beef soup she was planning to make.

She sighed and closed the fridge, going to replay the message from her daughter as she'd hardly heard it.

Usually, she would be going over to Tao Fang's. Not his place. His restaurant. He made the most amazing General Tso's Chicken.

But this year… the restaurants were closed for eat-in dining. And if she was eating at home anyway… what was the point?

She grabbed a box of dried pasta from one of the cabinets, chewing her bottom lip as she thought. Tao needed the business, though. Especially this year. Even if she was going to eat at home, even if she would eat… alone.

She returned the box and pulled her phone out of her bag. She pulled up the food delivery app and then stopped herself.

For one, the app took a large chunk of restaurants profits, from what she had read. For another… she wanted that human connection. That was why she went most years, she realized.

So she sat down on the sofa and dialed the number for Tao's Bao. She didn't need to look at the menu. She went every year, after all, and often enough when it wasn't Christmas either.

"Tao's Bao, one minute." There was a click as she was put on hold immediately.

Esther couldn't help but smile. At least he sounded busy.

It was a few moments before he came back to the line. "Hi, what can I get you?"

"Hi, Tao." She reached over for the pillow she kept on the sofa. "I wanted to place an order for delivery." She paused. "This is Esther Felder."

There was a pause. "Oh- Esther!" She could practically hear his voice change to a smile. "Of course, I couldn't forget you. General Tso and extra rice?"

She blinked. "How on /earth/ can you possibly remember my order?"

"You're not easy to forget." He said simply, over the din that was obvious in the background from his side of the line. "My delivery boy is out now so it will be a half hour until he gets back." He said. "So I understand if you want-"

"No." Esther cut him off. "I like your food. I'd prefer to eat there, but…" She trailed off.

"Mhmm- wait one second-" he seemed to pull the phone away from his face to talk to one of his employees. "Next year in Jerusalem, isn't that what they say?" He said once his voice was clear again.

She laughed at that. "Oh my God, Tao."

"Is that wrong?"

"No, but that was… I didn't expect to hear that from you."

"I pick things up."

"Clearly."

There was silence then between them, sitting heavy. She knew she should place her order, give her address, give her card number… but she wanted to keep him on the line.

"How's your nephew?" She finally spat out. "Wei, right? He used to wait tables for you."

"Wei, yes. He's gotten married this year."

"Oh, that's exciting!" She exclaimed. "I remember when my Chani got…" she trailed off. "Sorry, I should order." She stopped herself.

"No, finish what you were saying. Please."

Esther fumbled for a moment. "When my Chani got engaged, it felt like the whole world flipped upside down."

There was silence from the other line, and it was obvious that he was listening.

"She was always my baby. And all of a sudden, here she was, a /bride/. It felt like everything would change." She glanced around at her empty apartment, feeling a pang. "I guess it did." She said quietly.

"Things change, but that's not always bad." Tao pointed out. There was an uptick in noise from the background, and she heard Tao mutter something in mandarin under his breath. "Give me your order, Esther, I'll see about getting it to you."

"Oh." She stopped. "Right." This wasn't a social call. She gave him her order, and then her address. She only lived two blocks down from his shop, which was always so convenient.

He thanked her for her order, and they hung up.

Damn it. Why…? Why was she upset they had to hang up so quickly?

He was so easy to talk to. Easier than any of her friends she had weekly chat zoom sessions with. Usually, she'd sit down at a table and they would chat as he served other tables around her, but now… this Christmas was different.

Ha. Why was this Christmas different than every other Christmas?

She sighed and set the pillow to the side, reaching for the remote to turn on her usual show for this time.

--

It was a short while later that there was a knock at the door.

"One minute!" She called, muting the TV and standing up to pad to the door. She glanced out of the peephole and saw the distorted form of someone holding a bag standing there.

She unlocked the door and then froze. It wasn't a delivery boy, it was… "Tao!" She exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The smile hiding underneath Tao's mask was obvious in his eyes. "Wei is technically the new kitchen manager, so I thought I'd let him have a bit of time trying to balance it on his own." He paused. "After all, I couldn't let my favorite customer eat alone, could I?"

[qonqr]

I’m Still Here

Many of you may have been asking yourself where did Silver go? Is anyone still working on QONQR?  I admit I’ve been very quiet the past year and from the outside, it looks like not much is going on.

 Before I give my QONQR update I want to share a major accomplishment for me. I’m a little less of a hoarder than I was a month ago. As the 11th year anniversary approached, I decided I had too much old QONQR merchandise I needed to get in the hands of my players. However, I hate shipping. I should be the spokesperson for one of those shipping providers that make shipping easy because I hate doing it so much. Many of you know that the player Rayndel has an Etsy store where she sells QONQR merchandise with my permission. I sent her a 65lb (30kg) box of QONQR stuff. Coffee cups, T-shirts, dog tags and stickers. She is liquidating all of it for me. You can find it all right here.

https://www.etsy.com/shop/DragonHoardCrafts?section_id=19648949

 2020 and 2021 have been challenging for most people, and I’m no exception.  Both our kids are off to college. We are getting older and so are our extended families. Medical issues become more frequent for us and them. The stress of the pandemic doesn’t help. There are days when I can sit at my computer all day, and never write a line of code. Things are hard, they impact our ability to work as hard as we once did.

 A little over two weeks ago, QONQR hit its 11th birthday. The milestone passed quietly. I always spend time reflecting on how QONQR has changed my life and the stories you’ve shared about how it has changed yours. We’ve built something great together. Together we keep it going.

 Despite outward appearances. Things are happening at QONQR. I am working, albeit at an admittedly slow pace. I’ve let go of the stress of pushing QONQR as fast as I can, and instead I’m working on QONQR at a pace that is comfortable. It is important to me and my family that I end my day without being drained of all my energy by the awful decisions and quality that Apple and Google hand me every day.

 The next release of QONQR will include the following features. Many of these are mostly done, so I’m happy to share them, with the caveat that I have no idea when these will actually hit the store. Tons of testing is still needed.

 New Sync Lock Rules

 Sync lock will now last much longer, perhaps a week or even a month before it automatically expires. Along with that Sync Lock Protection will also last longer. The more times you gain sync lock protection, the longer it will last. We want to protect legitimate family members from daily locks, but also want to avoid situations where multi-scoper can get infrequent help to unlock an army of devices and accounts. In addition to longer locks, Sync lock may also hurt resource collection with your bases depending on how play testing goes.

 As with everything pertaining to multi-scoping, it is a blurry line between stopping those who play unfair, and those that are punished for inviting family and friends to play.

 Notifications

I have wanted push notifications for most of the past 10 years. In fact, we were very close to having them implemented about 5-7 years ago, but Google changed their push notification system. We used a unified messaging system created by Microsoft to push to both Google and Apple simultaneously. There were incompatibilities between the new and the old Google system for a long time. We gave up on trying to finish that implementation back then, waiting for Google and Microsoft to get their stuff fixed, and it was years before it became a priority again.

 I spent most of the past 3-4 months working on notification. This area is quite possibly one of the worst technical implementations I’ve had to work with in all my time working in software. For example, if you kill an iPhone application, you also remove the ability to get push notifications until the next time you start the app. It appears to be almost random when Android will decide to beep your phone when receiving a notification, and when it will be silently added to the notification center. For both Apple and Google, the documentation is frustratingly inaccurate or out of date. There are multiple different ways a notification can be processed depending on whether the application was terminated by the user, suspended by the operating system, in the background or in the foreground. Was the notification scheduled locally or sent from a remote server?  Honestly, as a developer, it would be difficult to purposely design a worse system.

 The good news is that I believe I have it working as good as it can possibly work. In the next release you will be able to enable or disable notifications as a whole, or selectively choose which notification you want to receive. Notifications will include: Atlantis, New Wire messages, Mentions in Chat and Forums, Bots and Bases Full.

 A Major Overhaul to the Scope

The changes to Sync Lock mandated that overheat have additional logic to control bots and energy regeneration. More significantly, if we want to have a notification that your scope is full, so I needed to know exactly when the scope would be full.  Currently your regeneration rate is based on the number of launches in the past hour. Launching a few seconds before or after an old launch rolls off that 1 hour mark can mess up the prediction of when you will be full again. To make that prediction accurately, without checking every minute to see, “Are my bots full now”, we changed the formula for when bots will be full, and scheduled a notification based on that time.

 The new regeneration is very similar to the old, but we predict you may get 1 or 2 more launches per hour. I’m hedging the formula towards more not fewer launches to make sure this is seen as a positive change.

 As long as we are messing with the scope, let’s talk about the Bot Regen Accelerator.  Hard core players have pointed out that players who launch on a timer, always hitting the “optimal” launch interval, don’t gain any advantage when purchasing this $0.99 upgrade. In the new release this upgrade will reduce your overheat level by 1 level and you will never be in maximum overheat due to deploying bots. The impact of the upgrade will be noticeable by everyone with this change. The name of this upgrade will probably change to “Scope Coolant” or “Heat Diffuser”. Send me your name ideas.

  Subscriptions, Ads and Elite Players

This is a change that probably won’t be in the next release, but it is something I’m thinking about before the end of the year. Apple has had a bug in their subscription logic for years. If you purchase a subscription on an iPhone, then get a new iPhone, you need to cancel the subscription in the App Store, then renew from your new phone. Apple keeps charging you, but the new device can’t see the subscription, so QONQR doesn’t know you are a subscriber. Why wouldn’t Apple fix this? Well Apple only takes half the percentage of a subscription after the first year. By making you start a new subscription, they can double their cut of the money you pay QONQR for the subscription. Another problem with subscriptions is that they result in many support requests because they honestly aren’t 100% reliable in either Apple or Google’s implementation.

 Many people know that earlier in the year, Apple introduced a change to advertising that blocks tracking. This is great in theory, and I get it as a consumer that I don’t like to be tracked, but this tracker blocking also blocks my ability to make any revenue on advertising. Why would I continue to give away free advertising?

 Elite players are those that have spent over $100 in QONQR over the life of their gaming experience. Over the years the benefits of being “Elite” have dwindled. Features have changed, and incentives have ended. I’d like to invest more time and energy to build features for players that continue to support QONQR but I think it makes more sense to lower the bar and make the benefits for “active” spenders.

 With these three things in mind, there is a chance that QONQR will move to a monthly “pass” option rather than a subscription. There seems to be a trend with games, where players buy a monthly pass that offers benefits, rather than using subscriptions. Subscriptions are buggy and in the case of Apple, a shady business practice.

 The same benefits available to subscribers would remain under the “pass”, but you would have to explicitly purchase the pass each month.  Secondary missions may move to the “pass” model with non-pass players getting only a handful of secondary missions per month. Ads would be completely removed from the app in this scenario since they no longer generate much revenue.

  What’s in the Plans for 2022?

 If you have read my blog over the years, you know that Apple and Google make it harder and harder to stop cheating (primarily multi-scoping).  It is being reported that Windows 11 will have the ability to run Android apps. I don’t know yet how that will impact QONQR, but I’m guessing it won’t be good. At best it will have no impact because I’ll be able to stop QONQR from running on Windows, at worst it could be a nightmare.

 March 2022 will mark the 10 year anniversary QONQR hit the Apple App Store. I can say with a high level of confidence that QONQR is now the longest running location-based, multi-platform, mobile game.

 Personally, I think 2022 needs to be a transformational year for QONQR. I’m not sure we can survive if the game doesn’t change. Apple, Google, and Microsoft have never cared about supporting mobile developers. Outrageous fees and abusive rules (recently acknowledged by the US Congress) have been part of the ecosystem from the start. There are dozens of apps that you can download from the official Google Play store that make it a simple tap to attempt to hack and manipulate an Android app, so players can do something the developer is attempting to prohibit. Once again Microsoft broke the tools I use to help secure the app from hackers, causing weeks of work to find a solution that would maintain the same level of security.  Apple and Google both purposely hide information from developers that would help them ensure real people are using their apps instead of bots. They do this under the façade of privacy, but ignore simple solutions that could maintain privacy, while helping developers ensure the integrity of how their apps are used.

 I’ve said for years, the only way to stop hackers and cheaters in QONQR is to make it irrelevant. That requires a major shift in gameplay. Together, you the players and me the developer, we need to decide if we want QONQR to have such a major shift. I don’t know what that shift would look like, but 2022 might be the year we figure it out.

 2020 was a year of making sure QONQR can survive. Through tons of work that year, massive software rewrites and updates, I was able to cut the cost of hosting QONQR. Today the cost of hosting QONQR all year, matches what we spent in three months during 2019. So far 2021 has been a year of slow work toward significant improvements to the game, but without major strategic impact to your daily playing. I’ve taken my time to avoid burn out. I’m enjoying the pace of my current work week. It has been good for my family and me.

 I’m not sure what 2022 will look like for QONQR yet, but I’m excited to try something new. Maybe we’ll break things, maybe we will create something ten times better than what we have had for the last decade. Time will tell. We’ll figure it out together.

 Thanks for keeping the lights on.

-Scott (aka Silver)

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 22 | 23 | 24

thank you so much for your patience with this late chapter! I had some frustrating family drama pop up so I wasn't able to finish it until today. Enjoy!

“Lucy, Lucy, Lucy!” Levy plops onto the couch next to her friend. She grabs the blondes arm and shakes it. “Omg you won’t believe what happened today at school!”

“What? What? The teacher you hate croaked?”

“Pfft, I wish. No! I met Natsu’s roommate! Well, technically I’ve known the guy for like a year from school, we were lab partners, remember Gray, I think I mentioned him, anyways, yeah, he totally gave me all the details I wanted to know!”

But at the name Natsu, Lucy frowns and sits back. “Lev, you know I just wanna move on from this...”

“Just hear me out, I promise it’ll be worth it.” She leans in, “trust me.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine. Spill. What did Gray have to say?”

“So... starting with that Touka chick. Everything Natsu said was true. You’re not the first girl she’s harassed over him, in fact he offered to contact the other girl if you’d like to ask the person yourself.”

“That’s not necessary, I believe it.”

“He also confirmed that the profiles you saw on Ig are fake and how she’s been stalking him for a couple years now.”

“So Gray’s just his roommate?”

“No, he said they’ve been friends since middle school, so he knows Natsu well.”

“Anything else?”

“The stuff he told you about his family are true. Um, he works at a place called Yousei Mart, and that he’s an idiot but a good guy that is just really naive sometimes. The more he talked, the more I remembered him mentioning his roommate before. Like venting about stuff. Anyway, he said Natsu’s been completely distressed over all this and he thinks you should give his friend a second chance. I think so too, Lu, cause I believed him that Natsu’s a great guy and this whole Touka business is just unfortunate.”

The blonde pulls her legs up onto the couch, wraps her arms around them and rests her chin on her knees, thinking about everything she’d learned. Did she really want to deal with the baggage? What if Touka continues to harass her or them? It would be unfortunate to lose a guy like Natsu, because he really did seem like one of the good guys. She pulls up the memories of him on the train when he’d cornered her... ‘he was really devastated...’ and to do what he’d done, the amount of time he spent chasing and waiting for her, he must really like her to go that far.

“Well, Lu? What do you think?”

She’d definitely be using a higher standard to judge him, so he’ll need to be very convincing to gain her trust a second time, but, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to give him another chance.”

“Then there’s just one last thing for you to do.”

“Ugh,” she groans, “call him.” Lucy picks up her phone and dials Natsu’s number, but he doesn’t pick up. So, she hangs up without leaving a message. She made the first call, now it was his turn to respond if he wanted a second chance.

Approximately thirty minutes later an out-of-breath Natsu is on the phone. “Sorry Lucy! I was in class and the teacher is a real dick about cellphones.” He’d literally run out the room the second the lecture was over to call her back.

“It’s fine, I thought that might be the case.”

“Did you wanna talk to me about something?”

“Yeah, first have you spoken to your roommate at all today?”

“Um... no, why is something wrong with him?”

“Well, in that case...” she pauses and takes a deep breath. “So, turns out your roommate and my roommate have a class together, actually have had several, so they know each other and today they talked about us.”

“Really...” guess he’ll be calling Gray after this phone call!

“Look, bottom line is I believe my friend and since she believes your roommate about you and that girl... I’ll give you another chance. But remember! It’s not because I trust you yet it’s because I trust them.”

“I’ll take it! I understand totally and I promise I’ll do anything to prove to you that you can trust me.”

“I mean, I’m not sure how, but...”

“Um...” Natsu thinks fast, “are you busy right now?”

“Now? Um, not really...”

“I gotta run or I’ll be late for work, but can you meet me at Yousei Mart near Haramachi park as soon as you can?”

“Why?”

“Please?? I’ll buy you dinner too for coming.”

‘Ugh...’ “Okay, I’ll get ready and head over.”

“Thank you!! I’m just really happy you’re giving me a chance Lucy. Okay, I’ll see you soon!”

Lucy hangs up the phone and lets her roommate know she was heading out to see Natsu. The location he’d asked her to go to was several blocks away and takes her 20 minutes to get there. So, as she walked, she did her best to keep her cool. Half of her was thrilled to try again while the other half still apprehensive. Natsu had sounded so excited too, she could almost picture the man doing a victory dance the moment they’d ended the phone call. But where was this place that he wanted her to go to? She knew it was like a convenience store, maybe that’s where he works? Must be if he’d said he needed to get to work and still wanted to see her.

“Irasshaimase!” Lucy hears as she enters the store. A bit odd for a convenience store, but welcoming, nonetheless. She’s greeted by an employee, a red headed woman.

“May I help you find anything?”

“Actually, I’m here to see Natsu. He asked me to come.”

“Oh! You must be Lucy! Please, follow me,” the woman gestures, “he’s in the back working on inventory. My name is Erza by the way and we’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Really?” Hopefully nothing bad...

“Oh, yes. The pretty blonde he met on a train. The guy can’t shut up about you,” Erza laughs. “It was just weird, well new because we’ve never seen him so excited over a girl before.”

Lucy blushes from the compliment. “How long have you worked with Natsu?”

“Hmm, four years, I think. He started when he was still in high school, but I’ve been here a little longer.” They reach the back area and find Natsu hunched over some boxes tagging items. “Here he is, Natsu, your friend Lucy is here.”

“It’s okay for me to be back here?”

“I don’t see why not,” the woman shrugs. “We’re a pretty tight-knit crew here, like a family, so it’s also pretty lax how things are run.”

“Oh. Okay, thank you Erza.”

“You’re welcome. Stay as long as you like.”

Once the woman goes back to the front, Lucy turns to Natsu who was waiting patiently. “Well, I’m here. What did you want me to see?”

“That was part of it,” he smiles. “You said you didn’t know if you could trust me, so what could be better than introducing you to people who know me best. And people like Erza, she’s got no problem telling it like she sees it. If I was an asshole, she would have been the first to tell you to run away.”

“Yeah, she mentioned you’ve been co-workers for a few years. She seems nice, but I can see what you mean cause she looks tough too.”

Natsu laughs, “that’s an understatement. Oh! Come with me,” he grabs her hand and pulls her along, “gramps is still in the office, so you should meet him!”

“Gramps?”

“He’s the owner. Real name’s Makarov but he tells us to call him Gramps. He really is like a grandfather figure to us. Gave me a job at 17 and I’ve loved every minutes being here!”

She follows along, allowing him to hold her hand. Lucy couldn’t lie that his larger hand was nice and warm, and it felt snug and secure together. ‘Stick to your guns woman!’ She chides herself in an effort to fight the emotions bubbling to the surface. What was it about this man’s damn smile that made her heart thump!

Natsu knocks on the doorframe before going in. “Gramps! There someone I want you to meet.”

The older make looks up from his paperwork. “What is it brat, I’m busy here.”

“Be nice old man, this is that girl Lucy I told you about.”

“Oh... the elusive Lucy you’ve sold your soul for.” He snickers. “Welcome, my dear, it’s nice to finally meet the woman who wrangle our Natsu.”

“W-Wrangle?” She sputters. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. We barely had one date.”

“I’ve known this kid for a few years and he’s never so much as looked at a woman. I thought he was gay for the longest time till you came along.” He grins. “And by the looks of you, he lucked into a good one.”

The blush on Lucy’s face increases. “I don’t know about that. I mean I’m nothing special.”

“Lucy,” Makarov leans into his desk, “may I call you Lucy?” Once she nods, he continues. “Never sell yourself short if someone gives you a compliment. Take it from this old geezer, when a man is willing to give you his heart, that means you’re pretty special in their eyes.”

She had nothing else to say against such logic. “Thank you, gramps.”

“You’re very welcome,” he smiles. “Now get out, I have work to do.”

For a few more hours, Lucy hangs out with Natsu in the back while he works, and as promised, he buys her a bento dinner from the restaurant next door. Throughout the evening, his co-worker Erza and one more named Mira drops by to check on them or add to the conversation. She learned a lot about him from them because they were not shy about embarrassing the man. It was hilarious!

But best of all, Mira is the sister of the girl who was harassed by Touka. According to the woman, Touka had started off with the same tactics when she’d thought Natsu was seeing her sister Lisanna. Showing up, trying to talk to her, coming off all sweet and innocent. But Lisanna had a boyfriend who eventually scared the girl off. With Mira’s help, Lucy could finally be confident that Natsu had been telling the truth all along.

When the store closes, Natsu insists on walking Lucy home due to the late hour. He pays for them to take the train to make it a faster and safer trip. So, once settled in their seats, she sighs and turns to him. “I believe you now,” her voice is kept soft and low from the other travelers. “You were telling me the truth.”

It was like a wave of relief washes over him, but in that moment, it wasn’t time for an I told you so, so he just grins. “Movie date next?”

[shy-magpie]

RQG 156

live blog under the cut

Heads up about half way through I realized I go a bit further into analysis on where Zolf & the Kobolds are mentally than some people might be comfortable with. Just as they trust us to back off if the episode gets to real, I am trusting you to close the tab if my little live blog is hitting you wrong. If it makes a difference I have years between me and the reason I relate to this stuff.

"In Memorium" they are trying to kill us Ah they lampshaded the speed intros Yes Alex it is rather Paris Right to Azu & Zolf. Oh he's jumping right in. And there's my first pause of the episode. No “better” isn't a magic finish line you pass then never find yourself in that place again. No, knowing that doesn't mean you don't wonder if your back at square one every time you realize You Are In A Bad Place and Not Handling it Well. Gosh Azu is good at this. Yeah learning to walk away is hard. Learning to ignore the part of yourself that says "and never come back for their sake" is harder. Symbolic much Alex (Zolf is too small for the room, Azu is too large) Yeah it would be easier to not blame Zolf for last episode if I related to him a bit less. Okay they are talking about Hamid and their concerns for him directly. Yeah Hamid's relationship with power & privilege is an arc; and without the Doylist level of trusting Bryn & Alex, I can see where even if you trust/like him you'd be worried about it. With the best of intentions people misuse power. Azu quoted Grizzop at Zolf. Didn't name him, wonder if Zolf is ever going ask directly about his replacement in canon or if its best left to fic. Its easy to dismiss one's own successes. Okay fair and OW, Zolf isn't up to talking about Sasha; which is the part of this I was most prepared for. Hell yeah! He is coming down but not going to be attempting to lead so as to relieve pressure on himself. Maybe if he can let Hamid step up without making a Kew Garden thing he'll see how much he's grown. Hopefully without that setting off a "Hamid does better without me" thing. Yeah intellectual knowledge and it feeling real on an emotional level are very different things. Alex, why does it matter what order they are in? ALEX? The necklace? The Heart of Aphrodite shaped necklace? Azu got a Sign from Aphrodite approving of her reaching out to Zolf as an act of love. Yes! Blue Black no take backs! Yeah those two (players) know exactly what they are doing: breaking my heart in the best ways and not skipping over the actual work those two (characters) need to put into their relationship with OOC "its all fine now"s. Ok that settles the timeline, Azu went up same night, the device isn't made yet. Yeah Zolf wouldn't, probably best to back off while things are tender while being present enough to assure he isn't planning on leaving. Seriously bless Azu, this has to be at least as hard on her as Helen but she is letting the boys have room to work it out for themselves instead of "trying to help". The last thing either of them need right now is pressure especially on this point. Aw the Kobolds teach Cel draconic. Oh smart kid, not only is it just logical for the Kobolds to work with Cel directly, it might help them get over the "looking to see if the boss approves of how you breathe" stage. Especially if he is clear about not being threatened by them having advantage over him in this area. Heck of a relief this isn't hitting my rank issues. Ooh all the Kobolds are amazing engineers, wonder if its a Kobold thing or if Skraak recruited people with similar interests. Nice rework of the "Kobolds build traps" thing from pathfinder. I genuinely love how instead of pitching the original description of Kobolds out the window, Alex has backwards engineered it. Reputation for traps isn't a dishonorable approach to fighting, its a sign of their skill. They aren't minions, their trauma is interacting with a cultural attitude about rank in weird ways. Oh Cel! Cel is amazing. Under Shoin's orders they: made Magic Steroids, did maintenance (more towards the end as Shoin wasn't taking care of things), built the place initially, sourced ingredients, other Kobolds built the Mechkraken. Damn Shoin, they can't even be proud of all they were able to do in adverse circumstances because he tainted it. If they weren't forced to do it and have it used for ill ends, building the kraken would be impressive. A lot of that sounds like difficult work. Hamid stuff: yeah it is from a place of fear; and they would be hypersensitive and need to try to "defend him" so he doesn't react. Terrified of his anger? Handle anything that even annoys him to cut it off at the pass. And being a good person who doesn't like scaring them, Hamid is going to over do the very "Mary Sunshine" routine that makes Zolf think he doesn't appreciate the gravity of the situation. You'd think Mr "do a grief later" would get that Hamid doesn't have to walk the halls wailing to be aware of the end of the world. Not that the kid can win, if he cried and threw up it would be proof he hasn't grown from season one. Hopefully by taking a back seat Zolf will have a chance to see Hamid's actions and realize being chipper & wholesome doesn't mean stupid. Oh Alex has thought this through, one of these days I'll quit being surprised he actually gets this stuff. Not being able to read the person whose emotions feel like life & death is a Bad Thing. Thank Alex for Skraak. Weird seeing this stuff from this side, of course learning to focus on my end instead of being preoccupied with what was going on in the heads of people who were on Hamid's end of it was rather the point. Perfect balance, Hamid gives them enough space to realize he isn’t going to explode, Skraak "translates" into something clear enough not to stress them out. Like when Zolf snapped at Skraak when he pledged to Hamid; might not be pretty but not knowing what The Powers That Be want? Very bad place. Rank and clear orders are very important when appeasing those who outrank you is everything. Cel has dealt with a lot of young and unsure apprentices!?! Yeah well Cel isn't in their chain of command and gears don't get offended if you have an opinion on the right way to configure them. Cel is great Azu & Hamid talking about Zolf! Helen is wonderful! I thought this was going to be drawn out and indirect, instead they are actually facing things head on and dealing with them. Aw these two are so good for each other. Azu would set aside her own emotions. Hot damn Azu, getting right to it! Hamid can be amazingly open about his self awareness and it surprises me every time. It fits him and is a very good thing, but going from answering "how are you?" with "the Kobolds are doing well" to "I never knew how to help him" without it being jarring made me do quite the double take. Guess I was expecting more deflection. Yeah well you two are redefining your boundaries, entire relationship, and rank in specific, while being the perhaps the only people with enough of the picture to figure out how to save the world. Working out the balance between conflicting views on that, when neither of you knows what the end will look like was never going to be smooth. Oh yes and none of you have directly addressed that half of Zolf's rank & dick measuring stuff is because he doesn't know if he even has a role if he isn't The Boss or The Healer.* Oh the grin in Alex's voice as he tells them there is something else before the brorb interview. Whisky tumblers for each? Quite a sigh there Ben News? Big news? While they were in the institute? They ought to sit down. Wilde get to it. Ah Azu & Hamid are holding hands. Poor kid with his prop. Letter? Ancient Rome? Sasha? Are all the fics coming true? Their founder "Askingus"!?! Oh Sasha, oh Zolf! Lydia! Oh the kids! She named the kids after the party. She even found her faith. A break? How the hell are we only half way through the episode. Also hell yeah Lydia deserves all the awards, that was an amazing letter. XD Ben! Oh Hamid, we reacted that way to the epilogue that way too. It really is okay, it was a good end. Yeah he could use a drink. Poor Zolf. Hamid gives Wilde a hug. "technically I think that makes Sasha my boss". XP be cryptic Alex, The RSB will have it figured out by Friday. Ok Zolf got to read the letter on his own. Azu lit 3 candles, because Helen wants me to cry. Hamid is at Zolf's door with a bottle and two glasses. Lydia this is a compliment to your skill. More direct than I expected from Hamid. Oh these two! Okay he is drunk enough to go there (angry at Zolf for leaving but he gets it). About time someone told Zolf directly he's grown. Aw Zolf puts him to bed. Thank you Alex! Ben! (okay fair, if any of Hamid was left he'd cuddle). Sorry Cel! Lydia wanted to break/heal our hearts more than she wanted the plot to move forward ;) Good plan: take the orb to the anti magic field, only those who have already talked to it can talk directly. Info control. Hive mind/telepathy directly addressed. Finally what Shoin eats is addressed. Ok Cel has some teeth on them. Hasn't fed it, is using the vibration to threaten to explode his brain, (no English doesn't have enough pronouns we are working on it)... Oh good point better feed it. Aw Zolf is possessive of the kitchen. Shoin is still Shoin. Cel is not happy about not being recognized. Nice to hear the boys working together. The Infection might block him from being directly aware of  being infected. Bullsh$% he backed himself up. Good point Zolf even if he does, they are separate lives, this instance can still fear death. Oh all the party have teeth, nice they don't have the "good guys have to be sweet & gentle with the baddies" thing Yeah Cel isn't stupid, the brorbs arm isn't a threat. Oh auto painting that will make the people theorizing on the bio side of how the Brorb works happy. A circulatory diagram, and am ocean of faces. Paints like a printer. A creepy charcoal sketch of London staring at the artist. *I swear on Rusty Tower if they let him hurt himself any worse because he thinks his new role is "a brick wall on wheels" I am joining the line to fight Ben in a Whetherspoons parking lot. Yes it would be in character but so would healing. There are other hills. Although seriously its been great having a character that shows so many of the aspects of depression that usually get left out. That Zolf is also a three dimensional character with a full personality beyond just "the one with mental health issues" while not making it look like those issues are tacked on or easy to handle? Stunning work.  

[commonalex]

future ready

future ready by common alex

Listen/download: future ready by common alex

It was around three months after I've been fired. I didn't dare to talk about it much, but it wouldn't that much of a mystery for someone to figure out why the short chick with the plaited hair isn't on the cash register giving wrong change to the old ladies anymore. To be perfectly honest, I was pretty devastated that I managed to fail even at working at the supermarket, where all you needed to get a grip was knowing how to count, wearing an "Olga" tag like a war medal, and acting like everything's okay at all times. Maybe that's why I ended up sneaking into it like a thief that day, out of stubbornness. It was the last sense of routine I had while everything was going under outside the window.

I could barely get out the bed before four in the afternoon. And when I did, all I had planned was dragging my body before the tv to catch some telemarketing and dumb commercials until the sun was out again and I successfully forgot who I am and what I'm going through. Because what other choices did I have really? For the last two years I was jumping from one dead end job to the next, either until I get fired or until I quit. I was leaving on benefits and a sad amount of savings, and I was starting to accept the fact that this would be my life from now on. Like, what else did I really have to rely on? Studies? Big deal, the world wouldn't end with just one english teacher less. Friends? Don't get me started. Family? All I was left with was a mother with a mission to make me feel horrible every time we spoke on the phone because I wasn't bothering to go see her. But even if I did, what would I have to say to her? I was mentally collapsing. So I said "leave it for now" and kept the thought pushed back for later. That's the reason why on that particular day I didn't pick up whenever my mom was ringing this cherry ericsson I had at the time. It wasn't like I really needed to answer, I already knew everything by heart.

"Have you seen how this girl you used to hang out at school does lately, Olga?".

No, mom, I haven't. It's been like ten years since I finished school.

"She's studying this thing you used to like, she got settled, she even has her own house".

Well done for her I guess, and?

"And you?".

I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life anymore, mom.

"But don't you ever think about your future?".

My long awaited future, huh? What a glorious future that was. It was so good, half of the people I used to know didn't make it halfway through.

Outside things were a bit more casual that the deep existential turmoil that was described by the news at the time, yet I was indeed shocked by that eerie amount of silence that was stretching through the cold winds that was piercing my purple coat. I could hear a tv screaming from two blocks away and the screeching roars of the phone lines echoing around the city, but there was barely any human voice left. I was only catching some mumbles and grunts here and there as I was jumping out of fear every time I had to turn around a corner. So it was just like everyday Athens, only with a little more of snow and fear of getting mugged. My social atrophy made me feel like I was being chased as the surrounding landscape was rapidly being stripped from anything that was reminiscing of a typical day. Like, that was the first time I ever saw people looting kiosks and butcher shops. I only managed to see like three to five people with their backs hunched, covering their faces while carrying those huge gray tv screens with the vhs player still attached or fifteen bags of chips, with their eyes moving around uncontrollably. All I had in my mind seeing these scenes was the word "brutalization". Maybe because all this time I wasn't fully aware of what was going on, or maybe because the news told the truth for once.

I snuck from the side door where the staff entrance was, because all the glass on the front of the supermarket was smashed to pieces and I didn't like the thought of my hands sliced open. It was a mess on the inside and the aisles stood empty like sad metal canyons. People must have broke in trying to get all the toiler paper and canned foods left in the previous weeks. From the expired milk bottles at the back to the unstoppable static noise of the refrigerators in front of me, there were all those special little touches to make me feel like I was working in this hole of a job again. And no, I did not bother searching for supplies. Instead, I walked around like I was out shopping with my mom, opening the boxes of the diabetes flavored cereal that no one bother to take, just to steal their toys. I also found a bunch of unopened boxes of the supermarket's very own faux chocolate milk (yes, the one with the dark industrial waste left on the bottom) that was probably expired as well. But, I was a lady, right? So I took some of them to the cash register, because Olga ain't no petty thief. I got around my place of work and scanned the bottles to find out that they cost something less than three hundred and seventy-five million. "Luckily, I don't have to calculate any change now", I thought. Never before have I ever experienced such relief while being there. I was sitting in the same place I was rotting for hours before the world turned to shit, and I was patiently waiting for a huge line of old ladies to pop out of nowhere just to ruin my vibe with their pension money bills. I almost started to miss all of those stuff. This must meant that things have really turned to shit.

The new millennium have begun just like any other year, against the disappointment and secret eagerness of some people. All that screaming about the revelation, the second coming of Satan, the aliens, and the revolution of the machines faded miserably as the days went by and absolute destruction was not to be seen. Yet, at least. Because the first planes that crashed mid-flight in South Africa and Indonesia didn't appear before the end of January, but all were like "okay, technical problems". And when missiles were accidentally landing on Iraqi cities, people were like "well, what to do, technical problems yet again". Only when the bank deposits got erased people started to cry and run like headless chickens. Young people now would call me cynical, but you had to be there to see it. It was crystal clear that people had all of their hopes and dreams for tomorrow stored into a single digit of a computer. A kind of tomorrow which was now failing to promise anything anymore in front of millions of simultaneous personal bankruptcies. Then the reactors in Italy exploded due to a system failure and tomorrow officially died. This tomorrow that we were told would bring everything to us, from cancer treatments to all of Britney's music stored in a tiny mini-disc. From flying cars to underground metros. From huge tv screens for each living room to the giant digital information highway better know as the INTERNET. Nowadays all of these sound so silly, but the pain in the faces of people from the betrayal of their dream did not seem to go away. Until mid-February, everyone lost their minds. Those who saw all of this coming ran away in fear of the new Chernobyl to leave the rest of us behind to die. Shops, services, offices, all ceased to have any actual reason to exist in from of the impending disaster. All you could see around anymore were padlocks, deflated bodies on the street from people that couldn't take it anymore, and some shadows of people left to wander like animals while pretending to be alive. Maybe that's why the tv was constantly playing commercials and other irrelevant bullshit during all of this, it was the last useful thing they could show to the people that were preparing for the grand finale.

But that grand finale wasn't so tangible for me. Everyone had this type of end predetermined, but this panic of theirs seemed more like a slightly less shallow version of the preexisting self-preservation to me. I wasn't convinced by those who screamed that the world was over simply because it already happened to their world. Like, just as Rome wasn't built in one day, their illusions weren't shattered overnight. I mean, at that time the supermarket was filled with those obnoxious promotional banners featuring the new slogan that was everywhere lately, before things change for the worse. They had the "FUTURE READY" catchphrase in large white letters that spread noisy and ridiculous lacking any particular meaning as everything was collapsing. What future exactly was that slogan referring to? The future in general, as a concept of time and space? They wouldn't have thought that out that much. Was it the future of humanity from now on? I wouldn't be so concerned for this with all those rich fucks that had already kissed as goodbye from their shelters, we were far from being extinct and in maybe less that ten years we could wake up with someone like Will Smith ruling the world. No, the catchphrase probably meant that future with the flying cars and the internet. The future only fools would believe it would come (and yes, people actually believe that). That future we lost just as fast as we were promised for it.

So in short, we were crabs in a bucket, pulling each other down in excruciating depths. This wasn't living nor surviving; we more or less kept on functioning like bio-robots with depression. But for me, things weren't looking so grim. "Look at me", I would say, "I reached twenty-nine and haven't done crap to be proud of, I drink expired chocolate milk and I'm secretly glad the world is ending because every day was borderline unbearable for me anyway, so how good would the future be for someone like me?". Nowadays the denial of any form of reality in this reasoning stands out, but at that moment I was reaching redemption. I was now reassured by the thought of the end, acting like a barrier that could block this endless loop that was running relentlessly against me. "So finally", I said to myself, "let's calm down once and for all". I was spinning around in the cashier's chair like a silly kid and was finishing up the bottles of milk like there's no tomorrow, while convincing myself that once everything goes to hell, my torment is over.

My phone’s vibrating through my coat cut me off the carefree twirling around my craziness. "Mom" was flashing on the screen again, but by that point I couldn't be bothered for explanations. Still, the dialogue kept running automatically like a script inside my head.

"I just can't get you. Do you keep on acting unbothered by the world? Even now? Who are you trying to convince anymore, Olga? Me? Because I know you have roughened up out of fear".

Well, truth is I was actually fearing you would start with that kind of shit again.

"You are getting more and more difficult to talk to. You are basically denying something we both clearly see at this point".

We seem to say the same exact thing, ain't that something? I guess I was kinda doomed from the start to be and look just like you.

"You really do me dirty with all these conclusions you're drawing out of anger".

Okay, so what? Did you get upset?

"Why are you angry at me, Olga? Can I hear you say it, just for once?"

I don't have the time for this thing again, mother, I need to enjoy my remaining days over here.

"How much do you think this will last for you? When will you stop stalling and start looking after you and your future again, Olga?"

What future do I have, really, are you kidding me?

-Are you talking to yourself, ma'am?

I almost slipped out of the chair. I had never experienced such horror before. I was barely held off the bench to help me  get up again slowly with my heart sinking to my stomach, only to see a little girl with plaited pigtails looking at me half-frightened. She wasn't over nine years old, judging by the face and the childish dress she wore under this puffy purple coat.

-Why are you here? Where are your parents?

-Over here, come and take a look! But mom told me not to talk to strangers!

That of course made zero sense to me. Just like it made zero sense for a child to be left alone in a destroyed supermarket with the sun setting outside. I asked for the girl's name, nothing. I asked again, she hid her puzzled frown behind her pigtails trying to playfully imitate my posture with her hands on my waist.

-I'm Olga, I work here. And you?

She started to say something and suddenly changed her mind, running like hell to the back. I was confused thinking how would I look like to someone who saw me chasing a little girl in there, but then I reminded myself that probably nobody would be left to live to the end of this month, so I wouldn't be considered crazy for too long. I began running under the flickering ceiling lights and with each step I had to swallow my vomit. This little girl felt sorry for me in the end and stopped to wait for me at the end of the far right aisle, leaving one sleeve of her huge coat to stick out on purpose. I approached with an awkward smile and glanced at the strange grace she had on her face, with those weird baby hair that can't be caught for nothing in plaits pointing upwards. Despite my awkwardness, the girl stood unworried and expressionless as if I put her on timeout. I asked her name again. She slips away from a second time and runs like the wind, squealing something at lime while zigzagging the aisles.

-You should probably pick it up!

My phone was stabbing my pocket. It was "Mom" yet again, but I really wasn't in the mood for "Mama". I had to pick up my lungs from the floor at the top of my priorities, because this little devil wasn't running but galloping like a damn horse. I finally caught up with her in the aisle with the products of the day and tightly grabbed her by the shoulders. The little devil screamed and was banging her feet in pain. My hands had been too coarse for people after all this time.

-Hey, ma'am, did you get angry? I was just playing with you.

-I'm don't have time to play right now, please go to your mom.

-But I told you, My mom's right here.

"Where is "here"?

With just one finger sticking out of the sleeve, she pointed to the right middle shelf at the end of the aisle. She put her finger before her mouth to stop me from talking and I followed her on tiptoes. When we approached the end of the aisle and my eyes got used to the darkness I saw a woman laid inside the empty shelf. She was in her sixties and wearing an old black nightgown with holes on it. From her short hair down to her nails, there were ice flakes stuck everywhere as if she was just found buried in the snow. Her face with her eyes closed was carrying such an expression of pain and torment. I was so weirded out that something made me want to follow those ice streams that filled her skin's scratches with my fingers, however her body felt so stiff I jumped back. She looked more like a porcelain doll than an actual person.

-Ma'am Olga? Are you alright?

I threw up all the chocolate milk I drank. My body got the chills and my teeth were trembling so much that my breath was coming out in sharp puffs in front of the flickering lights of the refrigerators. I must have look like shit, because I scared the little girl for good and made her get five steps back from me while I was going crazy and trying to clear my eyes from the shock.

-Why is she here?

-Nobody wanted her. Nobody called to take her.

I didn't pay much attention. I pulled out my cherry ericsson to call for help, but the chaotic hum of the phone lines echoed in the aisle before I even put the phone to my ear.

-Who put her here?

She was just staring at me. I asked again and again. She let her lower lip half open. I grabbed her by the shoulders like before and she pulled out a choked scream due to my clumsiness. She started crying and feeling loose in my hands. It was then that I felt like something broke inside me and I crawled away from her because she would pass out in any second just by looking at the state that I was. I sat on the floor watching her wipe her tears from a distance, all while fixing her plaits and stressfully straightening the dress inside her coat. Every now and then she would throw these incoherent excerpts from conversations that seemed weirdly familiar, waiting for me to remember the answers I had given to each of the discussions. I felt sick, like my insides would explode at any moment. My mind was working overtime and I started seeing red. I understood, but I did not want to accept it.

"But how?" I was saying again and again. I can't just live through this stuff. I was thinking that maybe that's it, we are officially past this tomorrow. Maybe that was the end of the world and the time I had at my disposal. Only instead of cloud islands or pits with flames I was stuck inside this supermarket with a little girl and a dead woman. Was this fitting? Not really. It might be considered symbolic, but still not at all subtle. That's why I was stuffed with anger and distress. I couldn't digest what to feel after all that I saw. And what was the meaning of all of this? To make me feel remorse? To help me maybe? But how? So many questions hanging above my head I began to feel like I was melting from the uncertainty. Luckily, the little girl found some courage to pick me up from the floor.

-You still don't recognize her, do you?

-I recognized her just fine the first time.

-Are you sure, ma'am Olga?

-I don't know, what do you say?

-You tell me.

-We have to get out of here, kiddo. We can't get through it like this. Even now, with everything else going to hell with us.

-Do you really want me to come with you?

-I don't know. Maybe I want to, maybe I should.

The phone started screaming again. It was dimming "Mama" with small flakes of ice filling its broken tiny screen. The girl bent down and put this in my palm with no emotion on her face. I answered it. I waited for an eternity so thin you could fit it inside a moment like this. "Hello? Mom?". Eventually the same confusing static noise creaked from the other side of the call, and I stuck there waiting through the buzzing to find her smoker's coughing that she used to do before starting to complain about how I constantly forget about her. Waiting just to tell her that I was here, I was fine, and the world might not end there. Maybe, somewhere, somehow, there's even some future we can fit in it.

-So are we ready now, ma'am Olga?

-Ready for what?

She pointed at the banner hanging from the ceiling.

-Future ready.

I didn't catch my mother's voice at the other end of the line, of course. I hung up and weakly threw the phone on the shelf where the woman was laying, just to hear its dying snout. This felt way more fitting.

-Nah, not really. But it probably does not matter right now.

-But. I'm scared.

-I'm scared too, being in here and all.

-So when will we be back? When everything was normal again?

-"Normal" may no longer exist. We'll just have to see. For now, get up.

-You know better, ma'am.

-Ma'am my ass.

The little girl glanced just once at the self with the phone on and continue to walk with me, with her palm lost and warmed up somewhere inside my own palm. An analog clock on the wall pointed somewhere after nine o clock and the sky was bruised from the clouds that were pouring snow on everything around us. I put my hand with hers in the pocket of the miserable purple coat and lifted our hoods to escape the cold on the way home. I don't really remember how long we walked with our backs hunched over somewhere between the white and the gray. I only recall that we took the long way home, like a punishment of some sorts.

Thinking that I would never hear again the saltiness in my mom's voice was my most bitter torment. I never thought of such a possibility. I always had in the back of my mind that she would find a way to defy any rule of the universe, just so she could care for me. That's science fiction, after all. It seems I was holding on to my illusions for so long, so waking up hurts like hell even today. And if my mom died, I believe she must've left with that pain and concern during her last moments. "Look at me now", I catch myself saying here and there "I avoided her only until I had to mourn her". Until then, the only thing I had on my mind was working on what I should say when I would get asked about her, only to answer that we "fell off" with no emotion. What exactly happened to fall off with her would be like unnecessary little details. Still, to this day, that's exactly what I tell people when it's being brought up. I can't talk about it without sinking in remorse. I can't get the right words to come out anymore, not even by force.

Of course I tried to find her. Especially with the years that were to come upon me, I needed this to have my mind calibrated just to not go crazy over the batshit hysteria that was building up inside of me. Deep down, though, I knew I didn't have the courage to look at past trauma anymore, and I was secretly hoping I would never fine here. Maybe because the end of the world not coming anymore, at least as I thought it would, and now I have to live with it forever. Maybe because the worst that could have happened to me in the end was the postponement of the apocalypse. And this falls heavily on my shoulders to this day. Every day I have to justify why it was worth it to stay behind, either as punishment or by luck, trying to convince myself that there is something left to do with the leftovers of my future.

[crimsonbluemoon]

6, 3, 7 H2OVanoss! You know me heh ( •ॢᴗ•ॢ⋈)

Ahhh Owlbun! So I hope this fits the perimeters of a cute-meet cause I don’t know if it does but I think it does? Idk, its cute, please enjoy this mess of a story. >.> It’s a diff style than I normally do, but….hope it works out!

AU: Coffee shopTrope: Meet cutePrompt: “You had no idea, did you?”

Pairing: H2O Vanoss

If Evan was being honest, he hadn’t expected the chalkboard wall at his coffee shop to make much of a difference. The Owl Cafe was a staple in the community, and he had an okay group of regulars that liked to come in and check out his new blends on the daily. There were ones he knew by name, like the 6 year old girl Momo who loved Brian’s hot chocolate, or the late-night writer Kryoz who always seemed to appear when the place was deserted. Some regulars he didn’t catch names for, so he titled them as he saw fit; Runner man, vlogger teen, cute sweatshirt guy. All had their place in his cafe, which was steady in its sales. He wasn’t rolling in cash, but it was enough to pay Brock and Brian, so he felt that he was doing alright. 

The chalkboard had been something of a whim. A friend when he was younger had a wall in his bedroom with chalkboard paint that Evan had always enjoyed drawing on before bed. When he’d bought the cafe two years ago, he hadn’t really remembered the fun times he had scribbling across the bedroom wall. He was too focused on payments and attracting customers to stroll down memory lane. That had changed three months ago when bumping into Lui, the two speaking about their times as a child. The wall came up, of course, and Evan couldn’t let the memory go for days after. Lots of his customers had children, and college kids were always quick to bore when waiting for coffee. So one night, after a really good week at the shop, Evan went out and bought the paint in order to make his wall next to the waiting area a drawing board. 

The result was amazing; people loved coming by and adding their own doodles to the wall, filling it with different styles of art or funny sayings. There were always the punks who tried to draw dicks or write derogatory marks, but street justice tended to stop the crimes far quicker than Evan or his friends picked up on them. Evan enjoyed looking at the board at the end of the night, seeing what secrets it held from the customers he served. He tried to guess who drew what, or where each blurb of inspiration writing came from. Was the struggling mother of three the one who drew the calm beach? Did the preppy college girl express her darker thoughts in the corner of the board? Or was that old couple who shared a coffee really sweet enough to write their 70th anniversary with a heart around it? All of the pieces of the board was a collection of minds, hearts, and souls, and the nights didn’t feel complete for the shop owner without gazing at them in appreciation.  

His favorite part was the confessions; like an anonymous message board, people left words of secrecy every day. Evan felt it was a safe way for customers to express themselves without having to reveal their identity, and so far he hadn’t gotten any confessions that worried him. Brock always enjoyed reading the romantic ones where someone would claim their love for a friend, an ex, or a person they could never have. Brian’s favorites were the weird claims; he made Evan keep the ‘I like smelling feet’ confession up for three days. Evan couldn’t really say he had a type he sought out, because all of them were fun to read. If anything, he liked taking in the handwriting of the confessions, seeing whose were quaking with fear or more broad with confidence that only anonymity provided. 

It was nearly two months into owning the board that a message caught his eye; it didn’t have much color or outlandish design to it, so Evan wasn’t sure why it stuck out to him so much. But the writing just…looked different. Friendly. A little messy but with long enough strokes to show some care went into it. The words only took up a small part of the board. 

I come here every day because I think the owner is nice. And maybe cute? I wanted to ask for his name, but I’m too nervous.

Evan blinked in surprise, feeling his face heat up when he read it again. Someone…confessed about him? It was sort of risky, since this was his shop and he could have checked in on the board at any time, but it was also endearing. Someone was too shy to approach Evan, but felt strong enough about him to confess on his wall? He read the line two more times while he cleaned off every other drawing and confession, leaving the words in the middle of the board. Slowly, his eyes dropped down to the basket of chalk at the bottom of the wall, fingers twitching by his side. Despite having it for months, he’d never actually written on it. He left designing the morning greeting to Brock, as he was the artistic one of the three. But now…

He kept the confession where it was, drawing a little circle around it with the red chalk. Then, with block letters bright enough to catch any returning customer’s attention, he wrote out a simple reply. 

It’s Evan. Nice to meet you.

He didn’t think about the teasing Brian would rain on him, or how unlikely it was for him to get a response. The confessions were meant to be anonymous, not openers for conversation. So sure that his words would be left unanswered, Evan didn’t look once at the board the following day, trying to keep focused on making his customer’s happy. Any time he wasn’t working, he rushed into the back, trying to stay occupied so he didn’t stare at the wall. The day dragged on forever, but when the final customer was out the door, Evan nearly fell flat on his face vaulting over the counter to move to the board. 

“Desperate much, buddy?” Brian’s shout from across the shop went ignored when Evan scanned the wall, looking for any sign of a response. At first, the words around the response were disheartening; nothing connected to what he’d said. The drawings were still cute, and he wanted to read the confessions, but his heart slightly dropped at the sight. Had he scared off the anonymous messenger? He felt his frown start to capture his lips, but then his eye picked up on something. A blue circle had been wrapped around Evan’s words, and a line of chalk was drawn to the left of the board. Curious, his eyes tracked the line. Like thread in a maze, Evan was led to a familiar handwriting. 

Your name fits you! I’m…Jonathan. Is that okay? 

“Jonathan.” He rolled the name around in his mouth, his smile small when he finished. He knew instantly what his new secret penpal was asking, and he found the red chalk from before in order to scribble out his answer. 

That’s totally okay. I bet your name fits you, too, though I’m not sure who you are. Care to give me a hint? 

And for the next two weeks, the hints poured out. 

I like to wear blue a lot. Luke says it matches my eyes. But I think yours are prettier.

Evan counted seventy three customers with blue eyes who wore blue that day, but it did little to limit his search. 

I saw you drop that lady’s coffee on purpose. She deserved it for treating Brock like that. You’re a really good boss.

The incident had been in the morning around rush hour, which probably meant his penpal was at least his age. 

You only wear hats when you clean the mocha machine; it really looks good on you. 

Except this was something he did at night, so maybe he had different shifts throughout the week? 

Whenever little Momo comes in, you always give her the best smile. Sometimes I wish you’d smile at me like that.

Evan’s face hurt from how many smiles he gave out that day, but there had been nobody who hinted at knowing why he’d been grinning so much. 

You’re so beautiful. I really want to ask you on a date. 

Evan’s face flush red for the rest of the night. 

After the days of trying to piece together just who ‘Jonathan’ was, Evan was almost ready to throw in the towel. The little banter between them was fun, and peeks of Jonathan’s personality came out with doodles or smilies at the end of his sentences. He mentioned his friends, his dog, and if Evan closed his eyes, he could almost make out a voice to the words. Everything just felt so familiar about this guy, like he was already seated comfortably in Evan’s life. But he just couldn’t come up with a name, or anything to sink his teeth into. 

So, with a shot of courage (Brian may have supplied the alcohol) and nothing to lose, Evan wrote out one final message. 

Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.

Evan tried not to look at the board, just like the first day, hoping he wouldn’t scare away his crush by staring the wall down. Brock and Brian helped distract him, jokingly picking out old men and toddlers as ‘his secret admirer’ before laughing at the outlandish suggestions. Evan tried to smile and joke with them, but his shaking hands when giving out the orders always proved how nervous he was. Each time a customer came up to him, his back tensed, wondering if it’d be his penpal. But they never were, always asking for sugar or a bag for their half eaten muffin. 

When the last minutes of the day ticked away, and just a few regular souls lingered in the cafe, Evan finally broke. He left Brian and Brock behind the counter to walk up to the wall, hands shoved in the pockets of the apron to hide his twitching fingers. Slowly, his eyes scanned the board, trying to find the blue handwriting he’d grown to adore over the couple weeks he’d gotten to see it. But there was nothing; his crush hadn’t replied. 

“I scared him away.” Evan sighed and pressed his head to the chalkboard, eyes closing in defeat. His shoulders slumped down, unable to hide his disappointment. He’d just wanted to know who this guy was, because starting to fall for a chalkboard he technically owned was starting to feel a little creepy-

“Um.” An unsure voice made Evan bite back a groan, trying to keep his composure. Even if he was being ghosted by an anonymous customer, it didn’t mean he could ignore his other ones. Pulling back from the wall, Evan turned to catch sight of a familiar face. Cute sweatshirt guy had been a regular for months, always polite but never one to really engage in much conversation with Evan or the others. He always contributed it to the slight stutter in his speech, which only seemed to come out in longer sentences. It was actually kind of late for cute sweatshirt guy to be at the cafe; he’d bought his coffee close to an hour ago, and though he normally left right after, he’d seemed to linger now. He’d been one of the people who’d come up to Evan, looking like he was going to burst out in a confession, only to ask for creamer.

And sugar.

And a new cup.

…And more creamer.

For a coffee he always drank black.

“Wait.” Evan’s breath hitched in his throat as his eyes widened on the blue gaze nervously watching him, fingers curled into the worn down sweatshirt that was identical in color. 

“Yeah, I’m-that was me. Jonathan. Who you were-I’m the guy tha–that, um, fuck. Luke said I should’ve just-but the wall was…was our thing.” Jonathan’s face lit up in color at the confession, the nervous laugh that poured out loud and uncontrolled. It echoed from the emptiness of the cafe, and both men jumped when Brian swore and knocked over a stack of cups in surprise. Tagging that as future Evan’s problem, he turned his attention back to Jonathan, who looked ready to let his sweatshirt swallow him whole. The smile he gave only lifted half his mouth, proving he didn’t feel confident. “You had no idea, did you?”

“None,” Evan admitted, hands pulling out of his apron at the defeated look that sunk over Jonathan. 

“Right, that’s- I don’t have to ask you on a date if this isn’t what you…if I’m not who you-”

“Ask me!” Evan cut him off fast, not wanting to let Jonathan feel rejected for a second longer. He rushed forward, snagging hands that tugged the end of torn sleeves to entwine their fingers. Blue eyes widened above him, but Evan refused to let his racing heart of reddened cheeks stop him from repeating his confession from before. “Anything but coffee, and I’ll say yes.” 

“Dinner? Can I-would you like to get food with me tomorrow?” Like a puppy, Jonathan’s body perked up at the possibility. Evan laughed before lifting their hands to cup Jonathan’s cheeks. He pushed up onto his toes, feeling the slight intake of his customer’s breath before he answered with a kiss.

But just to be safe, he wrote ‘yes’ on the chalkboard the next morning.

[raiseyourcups]

Cabur

Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC (Aili Verdella) Warnings: a lot of cursing (like up the rating to R movie because it’s a lot of cursing in this chapter and the next), Aili threatening people (what else is new), Unresolved (Sexual) Tension Word Count: 3.3k Also on AO3

Masterlist

Summary: The crew goes over the plan, Mando and Aili discover it's more than they signed up for but they don't have any other choice than to go through with it. Mayfeld still thinks Aili looks familiar and Zero brags about his piloting and later proves that he's not above being an asshole even for a droid.

Mando was tense as he watched the droid in the cockpit, barely paying attention as Mayfeld went over the plan. Aili sighed as she paid enough attention for the both of them knowing Mando wouldn’t catch half of it if he was more worried about a droid. 

“So, the package is being moved on a fortified transport ship,” Mayfeld started, bringing up a holo of the transport ship. Aili narrowed her eyes at the sight of it, her head tilting in thought. “Now, we got a limited time to board, find our friend, get him outta there before they make their jump.”

Aili let out a sound of surprise before clearing her throat and pointing at the holo. “Is that a New Republic prison ship?”

“Is that gonna be a problem, princess?” Mayfeld asked, unsure about the short woman who he still thought looked familiar. He was going to figure it out by the time they made it to the prison ship though. He didn’t like unknowns on jobs he was running. 

“No, but call me princess again and there will be.”

“Your man wasn’t taken by a rival syndicate,” Mando interrupted before either of them could say anything else. “He was arrested.”

“So what?” Mayfeld questioned, leaning against the table towards Mando.

“A job is a job,” Ran said, looking over at Mando with a look that was almost daring him to disagree with him. 

“That’s a max security transport, we’re not looking for that kind of heat.” Aili stated, sparing a glance at Mando before looking back over at the holo. At least she wasn’t looking for that kind of heat. 

“We? You’re bringing your girlfriend along?” Mayfeld asked, raising his brow in shock. He didn’t want to keep some random woman safe during a job because her Mando boyfriend didn’t trust her to be alone on the space station. 

“Not his girlfriend,” Aili stated, her right hand clenching into a fist as her eyebrow twitched. 

“Sorry, I meant bed warmer.”

This time Mando didn’t stop Aili from moving. He simply watched as she decked Mayfeld across the face who fell backwards and onto his ass from the force of her punch. “The next person who calls me a fuckin’ loth-cat or implies that I’m fucking Mando, I will shove a knife so far up your ass you’ll have to pull it out from your throat.”

“I guess we got a team of six then,” Ran spoke, not even fazed by Mayfeld pushing himself back up from the floor while Aili walked back over to Mando’s side. “And we’re not looking for heat either so just don’t mess up.”

“The good news is that the ship is manned by droids. Still hate the machines, Mando?” Xi’an asked, leaning in too close for Aili’s comfort and pointing at Zero with the knife she had yet to put away. 

“Despite recent modifications, the ship is still quite a mess,” Zero said as he walked down the gangway. “The power lines are leaking, the navigation is intermittent, and the hyperdrive is only operating at 67.3% efficiency. We have much better ships, why are we using this one?”

“‘Cause the Razor Crest is off both the old Imperial and New Republic grid. It’s a ghost ship,” Ran answered with a shrug. 

“And we need a ship that can get close enough to jam New Republic code. So when we drop out of hyperspace here,” Mayfeld pointed to a spot on the holo, one hand rubbing at his jaw where Aili had punched him. “And then immediately bank into this kinda attitude, we should be right in their blindspot which will give us just enough time for your ship to scramble our signal.”

“That’s not possible. Even for the Crest,” Mando stated, he wouldn’t be able to pull off that kind of maneuver.

“Actually, Mando...it is,” Aili said as she winced knowing that he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. She still remembered how he had reacted to the pit droids on Tatooine and she figured the need for a job was the only thing keeping him from shooting Zero. 

“No, it’s not.”

“It is if he’s flying,” Aili said, nodding her head towards Zero. 

“She’s right, he’s going to be flying.” Ran said, a little impressed that Aili had picked up on that part of the plan so quickly. Mayfeld burst out laughing when Mando tensed up and turned to stare at Zero. The rest of the crew was still laughing as they walked onto the ship and Aili let out an annoyed huff of breath, likening them to children again. 

“Mando, I know you’re a pretty good pilot but we need you on the trigger not on the wheel,” Ran explained.

Mando turned to look down at Aili who immediately shook her head. “I can’t pilot the ship like that, the droid will be better than either of us.”

“She is correct. My response time is quicker than organics and I’m smarter too,” Zero said, tapping the side of his head. 

“Okay, yeah, all right,” Ran said, patting Zero on his shoulder to get him to go to the ship before turning back to Mando. “Forgive the programming, he’s a little rough around the edges. But he is the best.”

“How can you trust it?” Mando questioned, pointing to where the droid had gone. Aili took note of the way that he was standing, shoulders tense and she figured it wasn’t just because of the droid.

“You know you me, Mando. I don’t trust anybody,” Ran chuckled before motioning for them to get to it. Mando and Aili walked up the gangway, Aili in front to get away from Ran quicker. 

“Just like the good, old days, huh Mando?”

Mando hit the button to close the gangway without replying, still annoyed that a droid was going to be piloting his ship. Even more annoyed that they were heading for a New Republic prison ship. He waited until the door was closed all the way to turn to Aili and gently grab her wrist before she could walk further into the Crest. “Is this going to be a problem?” Mando asked quietly.

Aili glanced down at the hand on her wrist before looking back up at Mando. “What? Working with your ex who seems to think we do have something going on and has been threatening to gut me with her eyes?” Aili shrugged her shoulder. “No problem with me.”

“You know what I meant.” Mando said, trying to make sure that Aili knew he wasn’t joking right now. They were heading for a New Republic prison ship and she was technically ex-Imperial just like Mayfeld. But Mando didn’t care about what happened to Mayfeld if the job went south. 

“I know what you meant but it’ll be fine.”

“You can still decide to stay on the ship.”

“And leave you with your ex who would just as soon gut you as fuck you? Or the Devaronian who’s been sizing you up? Or the ex-Imp who really doesn’t like you? Pass.” AIli pulled her wrist out of Mando’s grasp and headed for where everyone else was waiting. Mando watched as she left before sighing and heading for the cockpit to watch the droid. 

Aili walked past everyone, leaning against the wall by the hatch where the cot was. Burg was pacing around like he couldn’t stop for a single second or he would die. Xi’an was balancing her knife on a fingertip while Mayfeld was showing her something on a datapad. She didn’t know what they were reading but Mayfeld looked up at her as she went past him with a look on his face that she wasn’t sure she liked. 

“Will you sit down?” Xi’an said harshly when Burg passed in front of her again, leading the Devaronian to reach up and bang against the ceiling. Xi’an responded with a snarl, showing her teeth and making Burg laugh. Aili rolled her eyes from her spot and waited for them to go into hyperspace. She didn’t have to wait long, feeling the slight jolt that always went through the Crest when they made the jump. 

Burg went over to the control panel beside the ladder. Aili felt herself go tense until she saw the weapons locker open. She had to shift over a bit to avoid being hit by a panel but other than that, the weapons now had Burg’s attention. She didn’t care as much as Mando probably would because any attention on anything other than the cot behind her was low on her priority list. 

Just like he knew she was thinking of him, Mando dropped down from the ladder and turned just in time to see Burg going through his weapons. He wasted no time hitting the button on his vambrace that would close it back up, looking over at Aili who simply shrugged her shoulders as she moved back over, no longer covering the control panel of the hatch. A stupid mistake on her part. 

Burg hit the weapons locker once, turning to face Mando in annoyance before trying to mess with the hatch panel by Aili. She blocked his hand at the same time as Mando and Burg didn’t seem to like that. He crowded up against Mando, forcing Aili further against the wall as well. 

“If you don’t sit the kriff down now, I will make you sit down,” Aili growled, glaring up at Burg and uncaring that he was even bigger than Mando. It might take her a bit longer but she had taken down bigger targets. The only real challenges being the tight space and that she didn’t know how he fought. 

“Alright, alright. Everyone calm down, I’m a little particular about my personal space too,” Mayfeld said in a sorry attempt to break up a fight. “Let’s just focus on the job. We get in, get out, and you two never have to see our faces again.”

“Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian or his tiny-”

“Finish that sentence, I dare you.” Aili threatened even as Mando put a hand on her shoulder to hold her back. There wasn’t enough room for anyone to fight even someone as small as Aili. The Devaronian was taking up all of the space with his large, imposing figure and had them both all but cornered. 

“Apparently Mandos are the greatest warriors in the galaxy. So they say. And I guess that extends to the company they keep,” Mayfeld explained, a smirk on his face. Aili really didn’t like the look Mayfeld gave her now, like he knew who she was. 

“Then why are they all dead?” Burg asked, finally moving away from the two of them to lean against the ladder. Everyone other than Aili and Mando started laughing at Burg’s comment. Aili clenched her hands into fists and planted her feet firmly on the ground because she was close to snapping. 

“You flew with him, Xi’an. Is he as good as they say?” Mayfeld questioned, finally turning away from Mando and Aili. 

“Ask him about the job on Alzoc III,” she replied, glancing over at Mando from the corner of her eyes before focusing on her knife again. 

Mando tensed up, the hand he still had on Aili’s shoulder tightening for a fraction of a second. “I did what I had to.”

Xi’an chuckled, finally dropping the knife balancing on her fingertip. “Oh but you liked it. See, I know who you really are.”

“He never takes off the helmet?” Mayfeld asked, trying to work out the logistics of a lot of things at once. 

“This is the Way,” Xi’an mocked, holding the hand with her knife to her chest. Aili looked over at the Twi’lek for a split second, knowing exactly where she wanted to stick that knife. 

“Huh. I wonder what you look like under there. Maybe he’s a Gungan.” Mayfeld joked. “Is that why yousa don’t wanna show your face?”

They all laughed again and Aili felt her one eyebrow twitch, something that only happened when she was mad. She slowly shrugged Mando’s hand off her shoulder, still standing about as rigidly as he was. She just didn’t have the luxury of having her face hidden from everyone’s view so she tried to keep it blank. 

“You ever seen his face?” Mayfeld asked Xi’an again.

“A lady never tells,” Xi’an gasped out, messing with one of her lekku now as she grinned over at Mando. 

“I don’t see any ladies here, do you?” Aili finally spoke. She smirked at the snarl she got from Xi’an before raising a single eyebrow in a dare. 

“Aw, come on you two. We all gotta trust each other here. You gotta show us something.” 

Aili saw Burg stand back up to his full height and look over at Mando while Mayfeld kept egging him on. She quickly calculated exactly how to take Burg down in the small space available even as Mayfeld kept talking. 

“Come on, lift the helmet up. Let us see your eyes.”

“I’ll do it.” Burg didn’t even make it half a step forward when AIli shoved Mando towards where Mayfeld was. She hooked an arm around Burg’s, pulling it down towards her body before punching him twice in the face, then she brought her other hand up to his shoulder to use his own body as leverage to lift herself up. She wrapped her legs around his neck and used the momentum to spin them and flip him onto the floor. She stood up again and flipped her hair back over her shoulder. 

“Anyone else wanna try something stupid?” Aili asked, sidestepping over a groaning Burg. Both Mayfeld and Xi’an stared in shock while Mando stood from where he had stumbled to from Aili’s shove. Burg growled as he got up from the floor, one hand hitting the control panel to the hatch in his attempt to stand up. He still ended up falling into the vac tube. 

“Kriff,” Aili hissed out when the hatch opened to reveal Little Green sitting there wide awake. 

“Whoa, what is that?” Mayfeld asked in surprise, getting up from his seat to walk over to the hatch. “You get lonely up here, buddy? Wait a minute, did one of you two make that with him? What is it, like a pet or somethin’?”

“Yeah. Something like that.” Mando said stiffly. 

“Didn’t take you for the type. Maybe that code of your has made you soft, or maybe she did.” Xi’an said, leaning in towards Mando before pointing her knife towards Aili for a quick second. Neither Mando or Aili said anything, both of their attention on Mayfeld who was now leaning in closer to the Child.  

“Me? I was never really into pets. Didn’t have the temperament or patience, you know?” Mayfeld said, before looking back down at the kid. “But I’m thinking maybe I’ll try again with this little fella.”

Aili took in a breath while Mando drew his shoulders up as Mayfeld picked up the Child. She felt her stomach tense while Mando took half a step forward when Mayfeld pretended to drop him but other than that, she tried to keep her face as blank as Mando’s helmet. Mayfeld and Xi’an both chuckled at the two of them and Mayfeld went to say something when Zero’s voice came over the ship comms.

“Dropping out of hyperspace now.”

That was all the warning any of you got before the ride got more than a little bumpy. It was never that rough of a jump and Aili wondered just what that droid was doing up there. She wrapped one palm around a ladder rung while the other reached out to grab Mando’s shoulder, her hand clutching at the cape above his pauldron. He was slightly steadier on his feet than she was right now making him the ideal option for her to stay on her own feet. 

“Commencing final approach, now.” Zero’s voice continued. “Cloaking signal, now.” 

The Crest suddenly pulled into a spiral and everyone went flying towards the floor, Mayfeld dropping Little Green who let out a squeal before he hit the floor. Both Aili and Mando immediately dropped down to the floor to cover him from rolling anywhere else. Aili got there first and pulled him into her arms. She turned to lay on her back while Mando all but straddled her, his arms placed on either side of her head and his legs caging her in so she didn’t go rolling around herself. 

“Engaging coupling now.”

“Shoot that droid once we’re out of here,” Aili said, looking up at Mando’s t-visor before having to look away. This was the closest she and Mando had been, even when they were back on Sorgan where they shared a single hut they had still never been this close to each other. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t even look at the Mandalorian right now but she tried to put all her focus on keeping Little Green safe right now.  

She felt the ship finally land and let out a quiet sigh of relief. Once they were steady, Mando got up and held a hand out for Aili to take. She took it and let him lift her and Little Green up from the floor. They went back over to the hatch where Aili put him down, looking over him to make sure that he hadn’t been hurt when Mayfeld dropped him.

“Coupling confirmed. We are down.” Zero’s voice came again. “And relax. Commence extraction now.”

“Useless droid, didn’t even give a proper countdown,” Xi’an snarled, still on the floor. Burg lifted two crates, tossing them aside while Mayfeld pulled out his comm. 

“Z, you’re sure they can’t see us?” 

Mando tapped AIli on the shoulder, pointing to his helmet when she looked up at him, and then pointed to the Child followed by a thumbs up. She finally relaxed a little, stopping her fussing over Little Green. She leaned in close to him while Mayfeld kept talking to the droid. “We’ll be right back, please stay here until we get you.”

Little Green let out a coo before scooting further back into the cot and watching as Aili moved away. Mando shut the hatch and they both turned to look at Mayfeld just in time to hear Zero’s reply. 

“The Razor Crest is scrambling our signature and I am inside the prison system. It’s impressive that this gunship had survived the Empire without being impounded.” 

“All right, we got a job to do. Mando, you’re up.” 

Mando moved forward to open the floor hatch of the Crest, Aili kneeling beside him just in case he screwed something up. Not that there were many ways to do so in this case. It was a simple plug in and wait game. Neither she nor Mando saw the looks being exchanged by the rest of the crew as they waited for the light to turn green. 

The hatch opened and Mando disconnected the cable, him and Aili standing afterwards. Everyone looked to Mayfeld who looked back with a stupid look on his face leaving Aili even more unimpressed. Mayfeld pointed at himself, “It’s me?”

“Always you,” Burg said. Mayfeld dropped down into the ship, followed by Xi’an and then Burg leaving Mando and Aili onboard. 

“Last chance,” Mando said, tilting his helmet towards the hatch where the Child was. Aili shook her head, a smirk on her face now. 

“Not gonna work,” she replied with a wink before dropping down onto the prison ship, Mando following after one last glance towards the hatch himself. Now they just had to get through a whole prison manned by droids that would shoot first and ask questions never.

[awhiskeyriver]

Hi friend!! Hope you are safe, and hope you get some insp to write again❤️ Maybe the scene right after their first kiss? Love you❤️

An anon also requested the scene post-finding out about the bet and losing the football game and so these two sort of coincide together. Hopefully this fits your request friend! Love you too!<3

+++

The locker room lacked the natural cheer and comradery it usually held on game day. Win or lose, we were a pretty solid team and typically good sports, but it felt different this time.

   Our winning streak of the season was officially over. To make it worse, we’d lost on our own turf.

   “We’re still doing better than last season.” Finnick tried to keep spirits up, but among us there was the overall stench of defeat.

   I stripped off my jersey and threw it into the hamper, eager to shower and change so I could go back to the apartment. The weight of the loss was resting on my shoulders. I knew I was at the heart of the problem that translated onto the field today.

   All anyone could talk about this morning was the party last night. Specifically, the video that was being shared all over Instagram from it, starring Katniss Everdeen and I.

   After her friend walked in on Katniss and I...and everything happened...I left the party with the excuse to the guys that I wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t a lie, I felt like I was moments away from puking. They let me go without protest, not wanting to be responsible for me being sick at the game, and I’d driven home, turned my phone off and gone straight to bed.

   It wasn’t uncommon for me to leave my phone off on game days. It was easier to keep focused, tune out the needless distraction of text messages and social media, so I hadn’t found out about the video until some of my teammates showed me in the locker room.

   Thirty minutes before kick off.

   The horrible timing had a rippled effect, causing me to play my worst game of the season and give people even more reasons to talk.

   “Mellark.”

   Coach’s dominating voice vibrated off the walls, making his presence known before he was visible. I cringed inwardly, muscles tight. Hearing your name called fresh after a lose was never good.

   I ran a hand over my sweaty scalp as he came into view.

   “Yes, Coach?”

   “My office in ten.”

    My stomach knotted. Really not good. 

    If coach saw skepticism in my eyes, he ignored it. Everyone waited until he’d left the locker room to resume talking. I tossed my helmet into its shelf, right above the slot where my last name was scripted in gold-plated font.

    Finnick, who’s bench was beside mine wrapped a towel around his waist before turning towards me.

    “What’s that about?”

    “No idea.”

    “You don’t think it’s…” he trailed off, but the unspoken words clung to the air. I met his concerned frown with one of my own, hoping, praying Coach wasn’t calling me up to his office to discuss that.

    “It’s probably just about the sack I didn’t block,” I muttered, just in time for Cato to chime in.

    “Which one?”

    I ignored him, debating if it was worth it to just go up and talk to coach now and shower back at the apartment alone. Quickly, I ruled the idea out. Couldn’t go up to his office smelling.

    “Maybe he’s calling you up to discuss the fact that this is a men’s football team and you, apparently, have a pussy.”

     He went to smack my crotch but I grabbed his hand, shoving him away before he had the opportunity.

    “That would explain why you can’t seem to keep your hands off of him,” Finnick retorted cooly, earning a disgusted grunt from Cato.

    “Dude, not cool.”

    Finnick shrugged.

    “I’m just saying maybe if he had a set of balls, hot girls would actually want to fuck him instead of just pretending to for money.”

    I could feel Finnick gearing up for a retort, but held a hand out to stop him. Last thing I needed was someone else fighting my battles for me. What would that prove other than the fact that Cato was right? But, there was no point in getting into it with someone like him. He was trying to get a rise out of me so he could laugh and make more jokes when I reacted. Like, tell me to get my estrogen levels checked or ask if I was PMSing. Idiot.

    I showered quickly and changed into street clothes before heading up to coach’s office. Nerves twisted my stomach as I approached his ajar door and gave it a quick knock.

    “Come in.”

    His face was buried into his computer, typing furiously with half-squinted eyes that focused hard on his task. His desk was littered with football knick-knacks and sticky notes. Behind him were plaques in numerical order for awards the team had won over the years and he had a cabinet off to the side of the office that hosted an array of trophies.

    I pulled a chair out from the other side of his desk and sat down, waiting. After hours of being on the field, it felt nice to sit for a moment.

    He finished whatever he was typing and took a deep breath before pulling his glasses off his face.

    “You know why you’re here, kid?”

    I wracked my brain, mulling over all the possible reasons. I decided to test the waters by trying out the easiest.

    “Because I missed the tackle in the third quarter? I think I figured out my mistake. If I just--”

    “I didn’t call you up here to talk football, Mellark.”

     My frown deepened.

    “Oh?”

    Coach sighed, folding his hands together. “Were you at a party last night?”

    Shit. Shit. Immediately I knew where this was going and it was no place I wanted to be. Already, I could feel my skin flushing with embarrassment...made worse by the fact that the guys had basically guessed this conversation down in the locker room.

    If it were possible to dissolve into the floor, now would be a great time to do it.

    I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and ran my sweaty hands down the length of my pants.

    Coach seemed just as awkward as I felt. He scrubbed a hand over his bristled jaw line as we regarded each other silently.

    “The party,” he finally continued. “Anything happen? Any sort of...altercations?”

    I suppressed a groan, wishing he would just come out and say it so I didn’t have to.

    “Not really.”

    “Not really?” he parroted, looking skeptical. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. “You’re sticking with that answer? Because I’ve heard otherwise. In fact, lots of people around campus have.”

    I swallowed. There was no way to deny it.

     “You...wanna talk about it?”

    It being the video, undoubtedly.

    It was far from the first time I’d been made fun of. Middle school had basically been hell; I stood several inches above everyone else and was twice as wide, which made for a host of comments and jokes at my expense. High school had been a little better, by then I was playing football and was able to deflect most of the jokes being made at me to those being made with me. 

    But College had been the best change of pace. Away from all the people I’d grown up with and knew too well in Virginia. I supposed it had been too much to wish the fluidity of my past two years could last.

    “Not especially,” I sighed, in answer to Coach’s question.

    “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Just so you know, that kind of behavior isn’t permitted on campus, and technically that party was on campus. If you were wanting to press charges--”

    Charges? This was getting out of control.

    “What? No,” I said quickly with a wave of my hand. “I don’t want to do anything. I just...want this to not be happening.”

    It was like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

    Coach nodded in agreement.

    “Well...if you change your mind or need to talk about it all--”

     “I don’t.”

    “Right. But if you do...”

    I nodded, staring down at my lap, waiting with growing impatience for him to dismiss me.

    “That’s all, then.”

    I stood up in an instant and gathered my bag, heading for the door.

    “Mellark,” he called, bringing me up short. I paused, but didn’t turn to look. “Don’t get stupid and start eating salads and shit. Can’t have you dropping weight in the middle of the season.”