#ONE MORE CAMPFIRE she says and then it's an hour to midnight

[chibiveneficus]

playing sea of stars like. I'll stop at the next campfire. you know what, that didn't take long, i'll stop at the next campfire. actually, i can keep playing to the next campfire, it's not that late. I have work in the morning though so i should really stop at the next campfire. wait holy fucking shit i need to find out what happens next after this campfire just, just one more campfire, just

[ryder-writes]

A Birthday Proposal- Kirishima x GN!Reader

A/n: Happy late birthday Kiri!!

CW: Nothing that I can think of!

WC: 850

"Wow, you guys! Thank you so much!" Eijiro smiled. It was his 23rd birthday, and you had invited the bakusquad to go camping. He had mentioned a few months ago how he went camping with his moms when he was younger and it was still one of his favorite memories. So you decided that it would be the perfect way to celebrate his birthday. Now, all seven of you (You, Eijiro, Bakugo, Mina, Denki, Sero, and Jiro) were all sitting on logs around a campfire, the dark orange sky emanating a nice, comfy glow. Each of you held a stick, roasting marshmallows over the fire.

"Of course, man. Happy birthday." Sero grinned, raising his stick before ripping the marshmallow off with his teeth and eating it.

"Yeah, you deserve a break dude." Jiro remarked.

"I know, I was maybe working myself a little bit too hard." Eijiro nervously scratched the back of his neck.

"A little? You were almost taking as many shifts as me."

"I hate to say it but blasty's right; that’s a lot."

"See. Even dunce face agrees." Bakugo motioned towards Denki, who was sitting across from him.

"Okay, okay." Eijiro chuckled. "I get it. But I just wanted to make sure my rank is good, y'know? It's harder for new heroes to get high rankings."

"You're number 12 are you not?"

"Well, yes, I am, but-"

"No 'buts'! You're doing fine, don’t worry about work while we're trying to celebrate your birthday." Bakugo huffed.

Eijiro sighed. "You're right. Sorry guys."

"Don’t apologize baby, just enjoy your birthday." You say as you grab onto his arm and lean into him. In response, he leans down and kisses the top of your head, causing you to giggle.

You all sit there for the next few hours, chatting and warming up by the fire. Time flies quickly, and before you know it, it's midnight.

"'m tired, I'm going to bed." Bakugo grumbles, standing up.

"Come on, blasty! Stay for a bit!" Mina grabs his arm.

He pulls his arm away. "No, I'm tired. Goodnight." Mina frowns.

You turn to Eijiro. "Hey, can I talk to you? Alone?" You could see a slight twinge of concern in Eijiro's eyes.

"Of course baby, everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine I just…" You felt him intertwine his fingers with yours.

"Hey, me and Y/n are gonna go on a walk real quick." Eijiro announces as he grabs a flashlight. "We'll be back in a little bit."

"Okay, have fun!" Mina waves as you two walk into the woods.

-

After what felt like 30 minutes of silent walking, you made your way to a field of wildflowers, their color dulled by the night. You nervously fiddled with the small box in your pocket before stopping. Eijiro notices you’ve stopped walking so he turns around to face you.

"What's on your mind, honey?" He asks. You notice how his eyes are soft and his head is slightly tilted to the side. You fondly think of how he reminds you of a dog.

"I love you so much, Eijiro." He wasn’t expecting you to say that.

"I love you more."

"I doubt that." You let go of his hand.

"And why's that?" He taunts. You take a deep breath in before pulling the box out of your pocket. You get down on one knee, opening the box to reveal a black ring with a stripe of red in the middle, outlined in silver (image here). "Baby…" He cups a hand over his mouth, shocked at what's happening.

"I love you so much, Eijiro." You start, hands trembling because of your nerves. "You have no idea how many times I would look at you from across the room; how many times I asked Mina for your number before she finally caved and gave it to me." You chuckle at the memory. "Talking to you was honestly the best decision I ever made in my life. You changed my life for the better; you made me a better person, and I wish to love you and support you the same until my last breath. You're so kind, putting everyone before yourself… you truly are the manliest person I could ever wish for as a life partner. To wake up next to you, to love you, is a gift I know I am forever grateful to have." You exhale. "Eijiro Kirishima, will you marry me?"

Eijiro immediately bends down and picks you up, spinning you around. Sniffling, he laughs, kissing your head.

"Yes! Of course I'll marry you, baby!" He puts you down and you take the ring out of the box. Grabbing his hand gently, you slide the ring onto his finger. "It fits perfectly…" He whispers. You reach out and wipe his tears before cupping his face and kissing him sweetly. He of course returns the kiss, moving his hands around your waist. You both pull away, and he leans forward and kisses away your happy tears. After a moment of comfortable silence, Eijiro starts to sway back and forth. You join in, moving slowly with him to a silent song.

You dance together, surround by the beauty of the night and your love for each other.

A/n Pt.2: Hope you enjoyed! I've only seen proposal fics where Kiri proposes so I wanted to change that lol. A lot more Kirishima content is on my Masterlist as well if you wanna check it out :] /nf

[nocturnalcharm]

Taking Care of You (Dame Aylin x Fem!Tav x Isobel)

𐙚 prompt: (Act 2 Spoilers*) After Dame Aylin kills Lorroakan, Isobel and Tav take care of her. 𐙚 cw: poly relationship?, normal bg3 violence, 𐙚 a/n: smut will be in part 2! i haven’t had a lot of time to write so i wanted to get something out there! thank u for ur patience

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Aylin!” You rushed back to camp, headed straight for Isobel and Aylin.

While they were resting, you and some others went out to explore Baldur’s Gate while you had the chance. You wanted to do some shopping, stocking up on potions and such, when you found a big store called ‘Sorcerous Sundries’.

“What’s wrong, dear?” Aylin immediately looked worried.

You could tell by her voice how anxious she was due to your tone and frazzled nature. You didn’t want her or Isobel to get too upset by what you had to say, so you tried to calm down before continuing. “I was at this store, and there was this wizard named Lorroakan. Um... Do you know him?”

“What happened? Did he hurt you?” She rushed over to you, grabbing your hands, giving your body a onceover, checking you for injuries.

“No. He, um.. He said he knows you.” They both could tell that there was more than you were letting on.

“Sweetheart.” Isobel said, seriously. “What do you mean?”

“He wants to.. trap you.” You turn to Aylin. “Trap the Nightsong. And use your powers to keep himself immortal.. We need to stay clear of his shop.”

“Stay away? Dame Aylin will do more than stay away!” She turns, grabbing her glaive. Her wings spread, perked up at the thought of a fight.

“We will kill him!” Isobel's voice growls.

“No!” Aylin interjects. “No. I will kill him. You two will stay here. I will not have either of you getting injured.”

“No, please, let’s just ignore him! I didn’t tell you this so you would go kill him. I told you so we could be sure to stay away from him.” You cried out. “He is crazy! If he knows where you are, or if you fight him and lose—”

Aylin grabs your shoulders. Her eyes meet yours. “I will not fail. You two will stay here, and I will go with the others.”

You look over at Isobel, trying to decipher what she thinks. She looks defeated, knowing that Aylin won’t stand down.

“But what if—” You try again.

“Love, I will not fail.”

You paused, waiting to see if she’d change her mind, but to no avail. “Fine. Just.. please be safe.”

“Please.” Isobel emphasizes, handing her helmet over.

Aylin kisses you, then Isobel, before sliding her helmet on and disappearing from camp.

***

Hours later, the party still hadn’t returned. The sky went from a baby blue, to a dark midnight, only worrying you and Isobel more.

“I hate this.” Isobel rants, pacing around the camp. “It’s been hours and we don’t know if she’s okay. If any of them are okay!”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You picked at your fingers, nervously.

“Don't blame yourself, Sweetheart. You’re not the evil, psychotic wizard after the one we love.” She tries to joke, attempting to lighten the mood.

Just as she does, you hear rustling in the woods behind you. “Aylin!” You call out, hopeful.

“Yes.” She finally comes into view from the campfire at your feet. You and Isobel rush over to her, embracing her in a tight hug.

“Are you okay? Are you injured?” It was your turn to check her for wounds. “You’re bleeding.”

“No, my love. It’s not my blood. It’s his.” Her voice was… off.

“Is he dead?” Isobel asks, wearily.

Aylin nods. She walks over to a log, sitting on it, staring at the campfire in a daze.

“Are you okay?” You question, and she stays silent.

“Sweetheart?” Isobel places a hand on her shoulder, and again, she is quiet, unmoving.

You and Isobel look at each other, brows furrowed in anxiety. “Don’t worry.” She finally speaks up again. “We’ll take care of you.”

She walks over to your tent, grabbing a healing potion and making her drink it until it was gone. You also stroll to the tent, grabbing some water and fruit to help her settle her stomach, that was probably in knots.

Aylin downs the health potion in one go, followed by the water, then takes a few bites from an apple. While she eats, you and Isobel rub her back gently, and stroke her hair, just wanting her to know you two are here for her. She normally didn’t act like this after a fight; It was odd. She didn’t seem to have any physical injuries at all, so the only conclusion was that the fight hurt her mentally.

You were unsure of how to comfort her, as that was never a strong suit of yours. You let Isobel take the lead, and you followed her actions. Isobel could tell you feel guilty, as if this was your fault, but it wasn’t. And that’s not what mattered right now. This was about Aylin, and you couldn’t let your self-pitying get in the way of taking care of the one you love.

“Why don’t we go to the lake? The water is warm, it’ll ease your muscles and help you relax. You can clean up, get that blood off of you” Isobel offered.

“That sounds nice.” Aylin finally spoke up.

You quickly grabbed three sets of camp clothes, and a few other things you thought you might need, and headed out to the lake. It was secluded, with only one entrance to the water. Other than that, the edges were covered with tall trees, dripped in vines and moss, and berry bushes. You knew you wouldn’t be bothered by others.

Once you arrived, Isobel started to help Aylin undress, removing her armor for her. She handed the pieces off to you, and you gently set them down on a tree stump a few feet away.

Once she was bare, you and Isobel also undressed. With one of you on each side, you took her hands and walked with her into the lake. As you sunk deeper into the water, you could feel Aylin’s body ease in the tepid water.

After minutes of silence, just filled with the sound of water and rustling trees, you finally asked Aylin if she wanted to talk about what happened.

“No. I’m fine. I just feel… different. I should be happy, killing a man who wanted to imprison the Nightsong yet again, but I’m not happy. At least, I don’t think I am. I feel numb.”

“You might be in shock.” Isobel suggests.

“I’m sure that’s what it is. After a bit of time, this feeling will go away and I’ll be back to normal.”

You rubbed her arms, in a comforting way, but also in an attempt to rid her body of Lorroakan’s blood. Isobel left the lake, only to return with an empty bottle. She filled it with water and poured it down the back of Aylin’s head, to wash away the red stains that were in her blonde hair.

Aylin had a slight smile across her face now, since she was safe with the women she loved; Her smile looked quite genuine. “I’m ready to head back, now.”

Once you were all back to the tent, dried off and cozy, you offered to give Aylin a massage to relax her even further, and she accepted. While you kneaded her aching limbs, Aylin let soft moans slip through her lips. Piquing your interest, you massaged her body deeper, wanting to draw out the moans even more.

Aylin laughed slightly, “You’re doing that on purpose, now. Aren't you?”

You smiled, “I just like to hear you. It lets me know you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I can enjoy myself in other ways, too.” She winked.

[ace-malarky]

Hey those are *my* siblings back off

I woke to a message from my friend this morning that went off into headcanons about my travelling band of chaotic feral mages that then spawned this piece of writing and ok it's probably rough and yes I did just write it in the two hours after midnight but hey

you know what

I kinda fucken like it

(in which Jasper might get pissed off by his siblings but no one else is allowed to even think about hurting them)

~~~~

The laughter – good natured as it is – grates at him like the screech of a badly timed parry.

Jasper clamps his sword in his hand and flattens his ears against his skull, snapping to his feet and turning on his heel in one smooth movement.

“Hey, Jas–” Llinos starts, falling out of stance even before the music halts.

“Don’t,” he replies, barely making the word not a snarl. “Just – don’t.”

Kaua and Tadhg stop playing. Tamhas is on his front, getting to his feet.

“Sorry,” Llinos says.

“Yeah.” Jasper stalks out of the clearing they’d made their camp in, leaves them all behind.

He walks far enough that he can’t see the play of their campfire, can’t hear them pick up the halting threads of a conversation he’d been part of when they’d sat down.

It’s nights like this when Kallyin feels closest to the surface, when the fire burns under his fingertips, when everything feels just a little more… a little more.

He won’t stay away long. Just long enough to soothe out his scorched nerves. Just short enough that they won’t bother to send someone out after him, because he doesn’t think he wants to find out who they’d send to talk him down first.

Even if he knows it will always be Llinos; they’ve known each other out here too long for her to send anyone else in her stead.

Jasper lets a little fire escape on his breath, siphoning off a little of his anger. Not anger. Annoyance. He remembers the way Kallyin would prowl, ears twitching, teeth bared in a quiet snarl. She’d always held his anger, and now he held hers.

 It isn’t too much later when he turns back to the forest he’s left them in. There’s nothing out here but the plains before the mountains, and he can only see them as a distant void against the night sky.

 He’s stepped too well to leave much of a trail, but he follows his nose back in along the faint promise of smoke, ears twitching to catch the faint sound of conversation.

 Jasper’s far closer than he ought to be before he realises that something is wrong, that he should have heard something of their conversation now, however faint. They wouldn’t have all fallen asleep without him there.

 He slows to a prowl and flicks his sword partially free of its sheathe, dropping into a crouch.

 The second thing he notices is that the fire is brighter than he’d left it. More spread out.

 The third thing is the charm that’s been painted onto a tree, still fresh and stinking of iron. He doesn’t recognise its design, but he knows it’s been painted in blood.

 A low growl slips past his teeth.

 Shapes in the clearing sharpen as his eyes adjust. Tamhas and Tadhg, back to back and slumped forward, noses almost to their knees. Kaua, gagged and tied up, struggling furiously under the watch of a man holding her down with the blunt end of a spear. She’s oddly muffled even for the gag, and that must be what the charm does, some kind of silencing.

 Llinos, flat out on her front like she’d been dropped, arms tied behind her, her bow in the grass beside her and dangerously close to the fire. There’s a scattering of arrows in the scuffed grass, Kaua’s sword, and another two figures watching them. They’re gesturing with their swords – little more than machetes, maybe, more suited for cutting through plants than people – and seem to be arguing. He can’t hear what they’re saying.

 He doesn’t care what they’re saying.

 No sign of Rhydderch, and Jasper hopes – he can’t see Llinos well enough to tell. He doesn’t think she’s bonded, he thinks that if she had they wouldn’t be caught like this, he thinks there would be more damage to their surroundings (he remembers bonding with Kallyin, the panic and the fire and the yowling pain that had nearly split his senses apart on the path).

 Rhydderch must be free, he thinks fiercely, not looking too closely at the pile of their belongings. It would kill Llinos for it to be any other way.

 He’s still growling. That’s his family down there.

 Fire slides between his jaws, eyes sharpening to slits as he places a hand on the hilt of his sword.

 Llinos hasn’t moved.

 The sound of it drawing rasps in the night, amongst the creak of branches and the rustle of leaves. There isn’t any wildlife nearby.

They haven’t heard; their charm works both ways.

One of the boys – he thinks Tamhas, the fire turning his sandy coat umber – groans and lists sideways, ears flicking up.

 Jasper bares his teeth and lunges from the treeline.

 Sound rushes back in; the fire, the argument, the fire, Kaua’s indignant muffled curses that are half shrieks, the fire.

 “You let that damned fox get away–”

 “It’s just a fox, what does it matter, some dumb animal–”

 Jasper slams into the two arguing men before they’ve realised he’s there; chops into one as he shoulder-barges the other to the ground, barely stumbling as he digs a foot into the ground and rips his claws through the dirt as he turns, holding his sword out.

 A screech pierces the night, a rolling alarm that isn’t any of them.

 The one he’d hit with his sword reels back with a cry, almost dropping his machete. He takes one look at Jasper and tries to run.

 Jasper snarls and fire tips his teeth and he doesn’t let him run. He throws his sword’s sheathe between his legs and brings him down, kicking the other in the face as he turns again, towards Kaua.

 The fire’s between them. It’s not as tall as he’d thought, but it’s more spread out. They’d added to it, made it more of a bonfire, a signal.

 The fire under Jasper’s fingers wants to answer it. Kallyin purrs in his chest, ready to play.

 The man levels his spear at Jasper, kicking Kaua away. She curses him again, digging her talons into the grass, flicking her head to try and dislodge the gag.

 Something screams in the forest beyond the clearing.

 Jasper’s grin sharpens as he recognises Rhydderch’s call. “You made a mistake,” he says, and his voice is barely recognisable, all low snarl and rasping threat.

“You’re surrounded,” the man replies, and keeps the fire between them.

One of the other men, coughing, sets off a flare that shatters against the sky, blinding the stars.

 “You think we didn’t come prepared?”

 “I think you’d like to think you did,” Jasper replies, and feints to his other side just to see him flinch. He turns his sword in his hand.

 There are other people in the forest, coming closer. Now that he’s broken the barrier, he can hear them. They’re not quiet.

 Llinos still isn’t moving.

 “If you’ve hurt my sister,” Jasper says, “Nothing will save you.”

 “Jasper,” says Tadhg, tailing off with a groan.

 “There’s more of them.” Tamhas sounds a little more alert. “Mages.”

 His opponent tries to take an opportunity, thinking him distracted as his ears flick in their direction, and stabs at him through the fire.

 Jasper twists sideways and slaps the spear away with his sword.

 The fire gutters under the draft of their weapons.

 Jasper breathes in.

 The fire dips some more. Shadows grow through the clearing. The flare dies above them, the stars reappearing.

 Jasper blinks, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

 His opponent catches his breath, hands tightening on his spear.

 Jasper lunges forward, through what’s left of the fire, and sweeps his sword up to catch on the spear’s haft, smacking it out of the way. There’s little finesse in his attack and they go tumbling as he lands, over and over until Jasper is on top and their weapons have been left behind.

He manages to punch Jasper. He hits Jasper’s cheek, splitting his lip against his fangs, snapping his head to the side.

 Jasper snarls – he’s been growling almost the whole time, but it erupts now, fire licking out between his jaws – and catches his hands, slamming them into the ground. “No one touches my family.”

Several things happen.

A group of men charge into the clearing with their weapons drawn. Rhydderch dashes in, another man on his tail. Tamhas breaks free and throws himself at one of the men Jasper had already downed, just as he got to his feet.

 Kaua spits the gag from her beak.

 Jasper throws himself sideways just before an arrow whistles through the space he had been. He rolls, steadies himself, lunges forward without really getting to his feet. He grabs his sword on the way, and charges into the group as the fire blazes back up in his wake.

 Kaua takes a breath and shrieks. There’s no melody to it; there are barely words. It rends the night, cuts through the clash of metal, slices the growl that buzzes in Jasper’s chest.

 Two of the men stumble, go ashen, fall to their knees and scramble backwards to the tree line. Several more turn and run, disappearing amongst the trees with Rhydderch on their tail.

 Jasper ducks a wild blow and twists his sword into two from the handle, palming one into his off hand. He wreaks havoc, surrounded as he is, and every slice finds its mark.

 Somewhere, Rhydderch barks. Somewhere, someone screams.

 “And fucking get gone!” Someone – Tadhg, he thinks – yells.

 There’s only one of them still standing, and that’s either because he’s stayed out of the way or because he’s actually good.

 Jasper’s keen to find out which. He could do with a challenge.

 This man has a curved sword and a buckler and a taunting smirk that he levels at Jasper as he backs to a clear space.

 Kaua has stopped shrieking.

 Jasper steps over one of his opponents and can’t find it in himself to care whether or not he’s dead. He bares his teeth in a facsimile of a grin, eyes dancing with fire.

 There’s a soft moan behind him – Llinos, finally awake.

 Rhydderch appears amongst the trees, stands tall and still for a moment, and then races towards her.

 Jasper’s family is safe, but they almost weren’t.

 Their swords meet in a discordant clash, his second screeching against his opponent’s shield.

 If Jasper cared, maybe he’d taunt him. Maybe he’d ask for information, find out if anyone hired them or if they were just being opportunistic.

 Jasper doesn’t care. Not really. His family was hurt and he hadn’t been there, but he’d got back in time.

 He locks the hilts of their swords together and pulls to the side.

 His opponent slams his buckler into Jasper’s chest and attempts to yank his sword back.

 Jasper stumbles backwards and coughs fire, staining his opponent bright with its warmth. His sword slips from his grasp and his opponent smirks, slowly repositioning as if he has the time to gloat.

 Jasper swings his other sword in and under his buckler, punching through his armour and between his ribs.

 His opponent has the audacity to look surprised, as if Jasper hadn’t been toying with him the whole time.

 Jasper steps back, yanking his sword free.

 The man staggers backwards, lifting a trembling hand to his chest. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something.

 Jasper tilts his head, lifting his sword to let the blood run off it and drip into the fire, where it sizzles.

 The man falls and slowly – finally – stops moving.

 One of the twins whistles.

 “Maybe we shouldn’t get on Jasper’s bad side,” said Tamhas.

 Kaua snorts.

 “Hey.” Llinos is partially leaning on Kaua, her bow in her hands with an arrow on the string, though she didn’t look like she’d tried to pull it at any point. “Thanks.”

 “Yeah,” Jasper says, and wipes his sword clean.

[that-guy-jin]

Day Nineteen: Taken

TW: Vulgarity, A character about to be raped. Along one of the main routes that led back to Kugane, the duo had set camp nearby, the sun beginning to set. They had left Akimura Village a bit late, having been prepared in the off-chance that they wouldn't be able to see their journey to its end destination before nightfall. Suki extended her hands towards the campfire, invoking her aether and setting the lumber alight. She grew excited, thrilled to see that she was gaining a solid grasp on learning how to harness these powers. She had Jin to thank for this, the man being more than happy to mentor her with these things when they still resided in the settlement.

"Look!", she said, beckoning him to observe her small accomplishment.

He stepped out of the tent, chuckling a bit at the display, "Very good, little love. You're getting a good handle on all of it. With enough practice and dedication, everything will be just as easy and natural as that."

She donned a warm smile, a warmth spreading across her cheeks at his praise and the confidence in his tone. "Thank you, heh…"

The viara situated himself by her, gathering warmth from the flame, an added layer as the raen scooted closer to him, her tail trying to wrap around his backside. "How much longer do we have left?"

Jin thought on the question, looking back on the path towards the port city, "Mmm…I'd say about 4 or 5 hours. Honestly, we could make it there if we kept going, though I don't want to risk it with how these roads can be."

The girl nodded, understanding the threats that a midnight travel could pose for the two of them. Sure, Jin on his own would be relatively fine, but even Suki knew that at her age and the fact she was still learning how to properly defend herself, it would cause more hindrance than anything else. While this did sadden her a bit, she also realized it couldn't be helped, trying to not beath herself up too much.

As night properly feel, the two would enjoy their meals, as well as indulging in stories and interests, before eventually turning in. The night had been relatively quiet, though that silence had fell to a deafening level as even the natural sounds of the forest came to halt. The only thing that could be heard was the faint rustling of leaves along the canopy of trees surrounding them as wind blew. Something wasn't right, almost as if it was an unsettling calm…

In an instant, the flame that acted as their light source wisped away before a bloodcurdling scream sounded out. Jin jolted awake, the space next to him empty. Panic had quickly and thoroughly set in, a ringing in his ears as he realized.

"Jin! Please!", a frantic plea for help echoed through the forest, the distance of it fading further and further away.

In the same instant her cry reached his ears, he had picked up his blade and set off towards the source. Suki had been taken by someone or something, and it was moving at a frightening pace. His mind's initial fog clearing, his breathing centered, concentrated; a veining streak lining parts of his body as he focused, his speed gaining as he tracked the cries, the faint path left in the suspect's wake. "N-No, please! Please! Don't, I don't know-" Her desperation grew nearer, Jin eventually coming to a dead halt to the display before him.

His gaze widened, a cold sweat breaking out and his heart suddenly racing as he realized, muttering under his breath, "Shit…A-"

His own words were cut off, his sentence and thoughts being finished with a chuckle, "Satori?~ Well…seems you know your stuff. That's a surprise. Most, if not all…don't make it long enough to know that and live to share."

A satori; a malicious ape-like yokai with the ability to easily read one's mind, often mocking them by proclaiming the thoughts aloud, as well as knowing their every move two steps ahead of time. While some say these monsters can be harmless and even coexist; at least in this case, that's far from the truth. Suki was face down on the ground, trembling with fear, the beast mounting himself on top of her, matted digits around her throat, arching her head up to look at Jin. Tears started to streak down her face, quietly sobbing, the satori indulging as his long tongue slicked across her face, staring the viara down.

"Delicious~" He chuckled, his tone one of twisted temptation. "She's…just perfect, isn't she?~ Was that the plan for you?~"

The foe heckled Jin, trying to provoke him into doing some irrational, though Jin kept his ground, thinking of something, anything that could get her out of this. It would prove difficult, knowing the satori could read any and every thought that crossed his mind.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Cabin In The Woods [M] ~ BC [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4K

GENRE: SMUT, non idol au

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

A/N: I had to name the camp this there was no other wayyyyyy Hope you like it!

Camp crystal lake home to some of the most adventurous kids every summer the camp would be home to 200 kids with 16 camp counsellors all in charge of them and you were there every year, along with one of your best friends Bang Chan who was a counsellor as well as a lifeguard that worked on the lakes. The entire camp was huge despite there only being nine cabins that the kids could stay in. Eight of them would house 25 kids within their age ranges since kids from the ages of 13 to 17 came to the camp you had to keep them all in different groups so that group activities were fair to everyone. While the younger kids stuck to swimming, football and other outdoor activities the older kids got to learn and do more. Archery, boating, horse riding, and many more things were all part of your daily activities around the forest. There were two major lakes in the camp, Wilderice lake and Crystal lake the one that the camp was named after and each was just off from the cabins that went on a long stretch of road. Everything was pretty close together the only cabin that was far away from the rest of the camp was Seneca, which was known as the punishment cabin. Mostly because kids who had done terrible things were sent up there, only allowed out to go to the toilet, or meal times other than that they had to sit there bored while everyone else got to do the fun activities. Not completely unsupervised of course, that would be dangerous. A camp counsellor would always go to check on them to make sure they weren't doing anything they would regret or that they weren't in any danger.

"Y/n!" You turned around hearing your name being screamed from the entrance and smiled as you saw one of your favourite kids rushing over to you. A bag around her shoulder as she sprinted into your arms, you span her around a little. 

"Hey Alice," You laughed as the small 15-year-old girl began telling you how much fun she was going to have over the summer with everyone. 

"I invited my best friend along, Brenda!" A brunette turned around when she heard her name being yelled and jolted over to you and Alice. 

"We wanted to see if you and Chan were dating yet," You laughed loudly upon hearing Alice, Chan and you were known among everyone as the flirting pair but it was nothing more than playful banter. 

"You're too young to think of boys that way," You began messing up Alice's hair when she moved away from you, whining and straightening out her hair. 

"I'm not, I'm 15 and I know you and Chan lovvveeeee each other," You glared at her playfully about to tell her she was wrong when Chan came to stand beside you. 

"Ah the trouble maker," He whined out, pretending to be upset that Alice was standing there. She was by far your favourite kid there, always willing to do whatever it took to have fun and even helping out around the camp when she needed to. 

"We were just saying how-" Alice stopped speaking when her mother came over, kissing her on the cheek as she began to cry about leaving her at the campground as she did every year. Not that you blamed them, it must have been a nightmare leaving your kids somewhere for two weeks and having no means of communication.

"I'm new, you must be Chan. I've heard a lot," Brenda said as she began shaking Chan's hand with a giant smile on her face, blushing as she turned to look at you. 

"Good choice," You pushed her and Alice towards the bus that would take them down into the camp and you ignored as Chan asked what that was about.

"Go, you have your first round of kids at the lake in an hour." You whined as he walked up behind you, tickling your sides as he demanded to know. 

"Tell meeee," He whispered in your ear, it felt as though a bolt of lightening ran through your entire body and you whined at him once again. Slapping his hands away from you and shaking your head, 

"Go to work, I'll tell you later." Later meant you had enough time to come up with some sort of lie instead of telling him that Alice and Brenda thought you had a crush on him. Which you did but he didn't need to know that. Things between you were good and you didn't want to ruin that by admitting that you had a crush on him, playful flirting was easier than losing him. 

"Who have you got this year?" Chan asked as he sat down beside you in the archery field. It was pitch black sine it was around midnight, the two of you had been so busy with the first day of camp you'd barely seen one another besides a brief encounter at the lake.

"Ages 13 to 14, what about you?" You questioned as you looked up from the folder you were studying from, every year you liked to try and get to know each of the kids you would be looking after for those two weeks. Getting to know their names, likes and dislikes as well as what they were allergic to and everything else you would need to know. 

"16 to 17," He said with a giant smirk plastered across his face, the camp counsellors that were blessed with the older kids barely had to do a thing around the camp. Take them on the odd walk around the forest or make sure they weren't trying to kill ne another with equipment but that was it. They were practically adults and could look after themselves, of course the counsellors would be around if they needed them. 

"You're going to get stuck with the younger ones one summer, even if I have you force you to myself," You joked as you jabbed him with the end of your pen, leaving a small black mark on his white crystal lake shirt.

"Already in uniform?" You frowned looking down at him as you realised he was wearing the red shorts and white shirt combo that was giving to you every year. 

"I thought I would be the first one...That and I accidentally spilt a drink down my only good pair of jeans." He mumbled as he looked at you, you began laughing softly before laying your head on his shoulder tiredly. 

"It's going to be a great summer," He whispered to you as he nudged your softly, 

"Fire night, bring your scary stories and marshmallows!" Someone screamed making you move apart from Chan and nod your head. 

"I've got the perfect scary story," You smirked. Fire night was the night camp counsellors got together to try and tell the best story as well as sharing food something you did every year when the kids all went to bed on the first night. It was somewhat of a tradition amoungst everyone for old and new counsellors to get to know one another. 

"You probably stole mine from last year," Chan rolled his eyes at you jokingly and you rolled yours back, 

"Oh yes because yours about the child who had diabetes was so scary Christopher, I'm still shaking." You pushed his shoulder and got up from the seat you were sitting on, watching as people began filing over in the direction of the fire grounds. It was a huge campfire with logs around it so that everyone could be warm.

It turned out that your story had nothing on what Chan was telling that year, your story was about a girl who got lost in the woods but Chan's was far more creative. 

"Jason was never seen again after he entered the lake and every year when the counsellors came to the camp to set up they were all murdered!" He clapped his hands together making you jump as he continued to tell the story of a masked serial killer killing off counsellors one by one using different ways that were all nearly impossible yet creative. 

"Then just when the counsellor thought she was safe in the water Jason swam up and dragged her down to the bottom of the lake!" Chan finally finished and you did your best not to act as scared as you were about it. It wasn't as though the story was completely impossible, the thought of someone randomly walking onto the camp was easy and they could just as easily kill everyone if they wanted to. 

"You okay?" Chan questioned when he sat back down beside you on the log, giving you a hot chocolate as you stared into the flames. 

"Y-Yeah, peachy," Your voice cracked and Chan knew that you weren't okay, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

"I'll keep you safe," He whispered as you snuggled closer to him just enjoying the feeling of being that close to him.

"I'm heading up to my cabin, walk me?" You questioned as you noticed how late it was getting, you weren't scared of the woods but walking around in the dark wasn't something you opted to do alone most nights especially after the story that had just been shared by Chan.

"Sure," He chuckled softly as he began walking down the field with you heading in the direction of your cabins, all 25 kids seemed to be sleeping so your night was going to be easy. 

"Are you scared?" Chan nudged as you clutched onto his hand tightly as you stood outside the cabin debating going in or staying with him a little while longer. The sparks you were getting from his hand begged you to stay and feel them longer but you knew you had a long day tomorrow and couldn't. 

"N-No," You lied obviously as he smirked at you, hugging you tightly. 

"I'll be right next door, if Jason comes for you I'll save you," You pushed him away before going over to the door and opening it up.

"Night," You whispered to him before heading into the room, Chan stayed outside for a moment just waiting for you to come back out but you never did. He hoped you would come back out and beg to stay with him for the night because you were so scared but you never did.

"Night," He whispered to himself before walking in the direction of his cabin for the night which was right next door to yours. 

The next day was ruined by the thunderstorm that seemingly appeared out of no where. No outdoor actitivties could be done since it was unsafe for everyone to be in the water and no one wanted to get sick out in the cold. 

"Does anyone know where all the board games are?" You questioned as you sat in the dinning hall, 200 kids all staring up at you with unimpressed looks on their faces. You didn't blame them, this was supposed to be one of the best summers of their lives and yet here they were spending it trapped inside where it was raining so hard you thought it was night time.

"Punishment Cabin, we kept them up there last year for Tommy and Ned since they were in there so much." One of the counsellors mentioned as she looked at you, none of you could figure out how to get the kids to calm down so if this was the only way then so be it. Board games and indoor games it would be. 

"Christopher. We're going for a walk," You ordered as you grabbed him by the back of his jacket, pulling him towards the door as you stared out at the rain. It was coming down so hard that it looked as though it was a tap gushing out water, 

"Why? Why can't you go alone? I'm so dry in here," He whined looking at you but all you did was give him your large puppy dog eyes and he melted, giving into you right away and grabbing his umbrella. 

"Let's go." He grumbled as he began heading out into the rain, the two of you sprinting off in the direction of the cabin which was secluded from everything else around the camp. 

"Punishment Cabin," You mumbled as you looked up at the cabin, the roof was leaking a little and the door was wide open thanks to the wind. 

"Let's get the games and leave," You told him as you headed inside finding everything practically ruined that had been on the floor. It was all soaked in water and the roof was leaking inside and on the beds dripping onto the mattresses. 

"Oh shit," He whispered as he looked around noticing everything, a clap of thunder sounded and you jumped back knocking into him as the door slammed shut behind you both jamming in place. 

"What the fuck?" You asked as you twisted the handle trying to open it but it was locked in place, not even budging a little no matter how hard you tried to pull on it. 

"Here, let the man do it." You scoffed stepping away from the door and watching in amusement as Chan continued trying to do the same thing you had been but with little success, 

"Let the man do it," You mocked playfully before sitting down on one of the dry chest of drawers. 

"You're just going to sit there?" You shrugged your shoulders since there wasn't much else you could do, the windows were bolted shut from the outside and it wasn't as if you could just smash them open. 

"Look, they know we're up here. They'll come looking when we don't come straight down." You reassured him as you shivered a little, it wasn't exactly the warmest in the punishment cabin but you would only be there for an hour at the most. 

An hour turned into three and you were sitting in front of the fireplace together trying to stay warm. No one had bothered to come to look for you but not because they didn't want to but that they had planned for this. As soon as the counsellors saw that it was going to rain all day they set their plan into action deciding to take matters into their own hands. They were going to arrange for you both to go up to the cabin and have someone follow behind you, locking you inside and only letting you out when they knew that you had finally confessed your feelings for one another. It was juvenile but they didn't care, every year it was the same. Endless flirting together, the costant hints that you btoh had a crush on one another and they were finally going to make sure you ended up together in ways that were more than just friends. 

"I'm cold," You shivered as Chan started up the fire place that was in the cabin, he'd found old scraps of paper and some matches in the drawers you'd been sitting on and started it up. The thought of you getting sick made him feel bad as he looked over at you,

"Here," He whispered as he began laying down dry blankets and pillows in front of the fire. 

"We'll warm up together," He promised as you sat down on the floor beside him, his arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. Maybe it was the cold or the fact that you were snuggled together in such a romantic setting but you couldn't help but stare up at him in awe. 

"Thanks," You stuttered out as he kept you close to him, your body felt as though it was going to surrender to him. Sitting so close, hearing his heartbeating and the way his fingers traced small patterns on your skin was doing all sorts of things to you. A wetness dripped betwee your tighs as you squeezed them together trying to ignore the sensation and focus on getting warm but it was hard with him right there. 

"You know what might warm us up faster," You finally broke the silence as you glanced up at him, the two of you had been sitting in front of the fireplace for ten minutes. 

"What?" His voice was smooth as he looked down at you, eyes seeming to sparkle in the light of the fire, one thing came over you and you kissed him. Smashing your lips against him and rolling him back against the floor. At first he didn't do anything, he held onto you until he realised what was happening and gave into the feeling of having your lips on his own. 

"F-Fuck," He stuttered out as you pulled away to look at him, his lips were pink from the kissing and you could feel your body heating up from the embarrassment of randomly kissing your best friend. 

"I-I'm sorry...I don't know...I just wanted...I've wanted to do that for so long," As soon as the words left your mouth Chan kissed you once again pulling you to straddle his lap as he kissed you softly. 

Your hips began to move out of habit and you felt him harder beneath you which meant he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

"N-No one is around," You whispered breathlessly as you began to kiss down his jawline and down his neck. Whimpering at the thought of finally lettin him take you the way you had always dreamed, 

"We would warm up faster," He smirked as he ran his hands down your hips pushing at the red short shorts you were wearing. Your whole body tensed as you realised it was finally, really going to happen. 

"Do you want to?" You nodded at his question and he kissed you again, making out with yo as you both slowly removed one another's clothes piece by piece. 

Laying down completely naked in front of him should have made you nervous but with Chan you weren't at all, he looked at you as if he admired every inch of your skin. Taking a good look as he licked his lips, kissing your lips softly, 

"You're so beautiful," He whispered as he ran his fingers down your stomach until he was at your clit, slowly rubbing your wet bud in circles as you let out a whimper. 

"So wet, how long have you wanted me?" He smirked as he pushed a finger through your folds, your toes dg into the floor as you mewled out, 

"Tell me," He whispered again as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, curling them up to hit your g-spot again and again making your head spin. 

"A while!" You stuttered out as you began squirming underneath him as you moaned out his name. 

"Me too,2 He whispered as he began kissing you deeply, thrusting his fingers deep into your soaking core. Wet noises filled the cabin as Cha continued to take you with his fingers. 

"C-Chan," You breathed out as you gripped onto the blankets that were surrounding you, you felt intensity building up inside of you.

"I-I'm gonna-" You couldn't cum before he took his fingers out of your abruptyly and smirked as he began kissing you possessively, your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him close to you. 

"So needy," He chuckled as you let out a hiss when his cock ran through your folds, 

"Shut up and fuck me, we've waited too long." You begged as your breath as heavy, he smirked shaking his head and kissing down your body. 

"I want to taste first," He whispered as he kissed towards your core, he lingered above your cunt and looked up at you to check that it was okay. Once you gave him a nod he dove his tongue between your lips and began flicking your cunt with his tongue. 

"Oh shit!" You screamed out as your hands worked their wayy into his hair, pulling him closer as he continued to eat you out, biting down softly on the part of your outer labia making your eyes roll back. 

"J-Just like that," You cried out as you felt your orgasm building again, he hummed against your cunt and you shuddered over and over again as he continued to eat you out like you were his last meal. 

"C-Cumming," Your voice cracked as the pleasure exploded in you without warning, your head threw back against the pillows and you filled the cabin with your desperate moans of his name. 

He kissed you sweetly as he lined his cock up with your opening, teasing you with the tip as he smirked against your lips. 

"No teasing," You whined out, too desperate for any games that he was planning in his head. 

"As you wish," He pushed his hips forward slowly, sinking into you. You moaned out squeezing your eyes tightly at the stretching, he stayed still for a moment wanting you to feel comfortable before he even tried to move inside of you, 

“Y-You can move," You whimpered as you opened your eyes, his cock felt incredible inside of you, you felt full as you gripped around him as if he had always belonged there. 

"Shit you're so tight," He whined out as he grunted, slowly pulling out of you only to thrust back in as he let out a small moan. 

"Mmm Chan, please," You begged, digging your heels into his ass wanting him to move faster than he was and he smirked, 

"Chan please," He mocked playfully before he began to move his ips faster, fucking into you as you let out moans of pleasure he was sure people would have heard even from the dinning hall. 

"Just like that!" You screamed out as he began thrusting harder into you making you squeal out as he rammed in and out of you. Cock hitting so deep you thought if he came it would be deep in your gut. 

He continued to fuck into you hard, changing between slow and passionate thrusts to hard and fast ones as he stared down into your eyes. 

"Holy shit," You cried out as you felt yourself tighrening around him, the build up becoming too much as you began to cry out his name, pleasure reeling inside of you. 

"You close?" He questioned as he felt you tightening more and more with each thrust of his cock. 

"Cum for me," He whispered as he bent down into your ear, biting down as you wrapped your legs around his waist drawing him closer if that were even possible until you finally came undone around him. Grunting out he pulled out of you, cumming onto your stomach as you giggled up at him. 

"Shit," He panted watching in awe as you ran your fingers through the liquid and licked your fingers clean. 

"Y-You're going to be the death of me," He panted ashe laid down beside you and took a deep breath.

"We should move babe," He whispered an hour or two later after you had been laying there, the sun was out and someone was bound to come looking for you now that you had been gone for so long. 

"Here-" He handed you the shirt he had been wearing and then your shorts before he slipped on his coat since he had used your top to clean up your stomach. 

"Babe?" You looked at him with a smirk on your lips,

"You don't think I'm going to just have sex with you and leave it be, do you? I'm in love with you." He whispered as he kissed your lips again, the door opening just as you kissed each other. 

"They finally kissed," Someone announced out of the door, if only they knew the two of you had done a lot more than kissing in that cabin that day.

Tagline: @taestannie @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @minholuvs @anxiousbobatea @justbangtanthingz​

[full-cowlings]

Eleven 's Regrets ─────────────

Warnings ; Spoiler warning for " In Search Of Lost Time " (end of Act 2 & beginning of Act 3)

Pairing ; LuminErik

Summary ; In which Eleven has regrets about leaving his friends in the other timeline. Erik struggles to let go and accept that he's gone, trying to find anything to hold onto, even if it leaves a negative impact and tears him apart.

Word count ; 1750

Eleven knew what he was getting himself into when he broke the time’s sphere, but it was for the right cause, 

to save Veronica…

So then why did his heart way heavy with such regret?

Why couldn’t he look at these friends the same way he looked at them back in the other timeline? 

Why did he feel such a heavy guilt when he thought about the other Erik?

 His Erik.

The one he left behind…

His mind exhausted him at night and during the day. Often finding himself not being able to doze off, even in the darkest of midnight. 

Thoughts about what could have been if he had stayed with them. 

Would they be celebrating the defeat of Mordegon?

Would Calasmos never have been a threat?

Would he and Erik be together?

His mind filled with regret day in and day out. He was ecstatic when he had come across Veronica once he awoke in this new timeline, how couldn’t he be? But there was a part of him that wish he had woken up in the Tower of Lost Time where he had been before.

Why did he feel like this?

It was so selfish of him to think that… to leave Veronica dead… to leave Serena without her twin just because of some feelings he had grown for a thief?!

How could he call himself a hero while those thoughts ran through his head…

how could he call himself the Luminary when he regrets doing what was right?!

Doubts about whether he was even worthy to be the world’s hero had crossed his mind on countless occasion.

Why… why did he have to be Yggdrasil’s chosen? Why did he have to be born with the mark of the Luminary? Why couldn’t she have chosen someone else!?

He wasn’t worthy enough to bear the mark. He had lead the world to its destruction and when he had the chance to go back and fix it? He hesitates!

That’s what he reminded himself of everyday.

Eleven was angry… hurt… alone…

He knew that his friends in this timeline knew something was up, that he wasn’t the same Eleven that they had seen only a few minutes before. It made him seem untrustworthy. 

Usually he would have confided in Erik as he sought advice, listening to everything the thief would say with a keen ear.

Eleven’s thoughts then got turned back to his most loyal companion.

The two of them would spend hours sitting by the campfires as they embraced each other’s company with open arms.

They could talk about anything at all and they wouldn’t mind, more often than not falling asleep laying next to each other under the stars.

Even through the fall of the World Tree, Erik stayed by El’s side. 

Despite his amnesia he had somehow manage to find his way back to his friends, destiny meant for them to have come together. For what? Eleven didn’t know. But he did know that he didn’t mind… and was grateful.

Erik had a gruff and almost defensive persona at first glance, he was… intimidating. But the more time they spent together on the road, the more Eleven learned about the pickpocket.

 Eleven could tell it was his first time opening up to someone this much, so he had never rushed it. Erik told Eleven things and Eleven told Erik things. Things they had never told anybody before.

Erik was nihilistic and yet he believed Eleven right away when he told him he was the Luminary. 

Even when they only knew each other for a few days, Eleven had become fascinated with him and his mannerisms. There was something about him that just made talking to him easy.

So when he faced this Erik, he knew that it wasn’t his Erik and that they would never get their true bond back. 

Why did his doubts flood his mind so much… 

why did he want to go back so badly?

 Why was it the thief he yearned to hold in his arms one last time?

Why did it feel like he could feel his hands coasting across his shoulders? His scent filling his nose? 

 The sound of Erik’s laugh echoing through the air around him startled him. 

“Heh… heh heh! Ha ha ha ha haa!”

Eleven’s head had never turned so fast, but nobody was there besides him. He was still sat alone like he was before, the air now thick as it was like he could almost feel Erik’s presence besides him.

“ I’m with you till the end, partner! ”

His voice rang through his ears, he felt so close yet so… far. Eleven’s eyes glanced through the scenery that he was sitting in, wondering if it was Erik who was near.

But yet to no avail.

“This isn’t goodbye! Not by a long shot! See you on the other side!”

The last words the two of them had ever shared… god how he wished to forget those sentences. 

His breath had hitched in his lungs, wanting to choke out Erik’s name but couldn’t find the courage to speak as the air laid thick.

The feeling of love he had for him never went away, nor did it change.

 But was it for this Erik?

 Or the other one?

--

Why did Erik feel so lost without Eleven there to guide him?

He had been alone for so long, 

But with El, it felt like he knew he was home. He is, no… he was his best friend, his partner,

the person he had fell in love with.

So when Erik had to watch him bring the sword down onto the sphere, cracking it open with a struggle, his heart sank.

It was real.

This was happening.

He was going to lose the person closest to him without ever saying he loved him.

A few months had passed since that moment and something in Erik was never the same anymore. There were eight of them, now down to six. 

He and Jade took the hit the hardest, everyone else had been affected of course, but not as much as those two.

So it was no surprise that Erik would come to Jade often enough, claiming to have found evidence he was still around in their timeline.

One day he had found his old satchel, his heart thumped loudly in his chest and his ears almost rang in his ears.

Jade had constantly tried to get through to him despite her own grief, “Erik, you’re living a fantasy! Wake up! He’s gone. We can’t change that… ” She knew how hard it was to accept reality, but living in a world created of doubts and false hope was also something she knew wasn’t right.

Deep down Erik knew she was right, hell she usually always was. But he couldn’t bring himself to give up on trying to find him. 

Not after everything they went through together.

Erik’s rough hands clenched around the strap to the leather satchel, feeling the need to hold onto the only things he could find of his best friends possessions.

Man… this wasn’t like him… so why was it all that clouded his mind lately? Why was it all he could think about?

Eleven this… Eleven that… why didn’t he tell him he loved him sooner!?

Maybe if he had… they would still be together now.

Why couldn’t this be the part in his story where things got better? Why did he feel so lost without him? Why was he cursed in the love department?

Why did it feel like every happy moment he had got ripped out of his grasp just like that?

Was he just destined for bad luck? Was he destined to never feel at home or at peace? To lose everyone and everything close to him? 

Thinking bad to the day Eleven left, Erik couldn’t help but wish things had happened differently.

Erik had wished he had done something about it.

Shoved him out the way, 

Grasped his wrist,

Grabbed a hold of his hand,

Called out after him. 

Something, anything.

But he didn’t. 

How could he have just let him go through with it!? To walk away from everything they’ve been through…

 from them…

from…

Him…

Why didn’t he stop him when he had the chance? He would have prevented all of this… if only he had stopped him.

Erik didn’t even realize the corners of his bright blue eyes had brimmed with tears that slipped out and down his cheeks.

“How come I can’t let you go…”

It was the first time he had let himself shed tears since the incident with Mia five years ago, swearing on himself that he would never let himself go through such a horrible feeling again.

Yet here he was… letting his tears come out freely as he sat on Eleven’s old bed with his leather satchel still in hand.

All that came from that room was the sound of Erik’s soft sniffles. How could he possibly believe that not everyone was going to hurt him when that’s all he’s known?

“ Why did I never fight for you, El… I’m so, so sorry…” 

Silence followed after, before Erik choked out one last strained sob as he mustered a meak and dry chuckle, his grip on the leather turning his knuckles white.

“ Heh, man… why did I have to lose you too?…”

[aliasimagines]

One Hell of a Night // Luke Patterson

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN Y'ALL, it officially passed midnight here.Are you guys going to celebrate Halloween at home? And if so are you going to dress up? Tell me all about it lovelies, I wanna hear it ❤️. prompt 18 nad 15 from this list🎃 this fic is chaotic, hope you enjoy😊

word count: 2692

warnings: a few (three i think?) curse words, and a..uhm a line of dirty talking (I'm sorry I'm not like this all the time I promise 😅) and scary stories

The dry, colorful autumn leaves creaked under hiking boots as you walked into the woods. A smile appeared on your face as you heard some noises. Only a few seconds later you spotted the source. The Sunset Curve. The boys worked on getting the campfire lit while joking and laughing loudly. You stopped by a tree and leaned against it. Alex just hit Reggie on the back for just sitting around and not helping with putting logs and dry leaves on the fireplace. Thanks to Alex, Reggie swallowed the huge marshmello he had in his mouth and started coughing. 

Bobby was trying to light his lighter again and again but it just didn't work. That's when Luke threw a pack of matches at him causing the rhythm guitarist to stumble back and fall into a pile of leaves. You started laughing quietly and walked up to them.

"That wasn't nice of you, babe." you said from behind Luke. He jumped, not noticing you creeping up on him.

"BAH! I almost got a heart attack, y/n!" he shouts pouting. You giggled and placed a small kiss on his cheek. 

"That's what you get for not waiting for me." you smirk. Luke looks down embarrassed and goes to scrape the back of his head. 

"Yeah…Sorry about that. I was too eager to set up the camp." he gestured at the two tents. Both were full of blankets and pillows. It looked super comfortable. You also spotted his acoustic guitar, and a whole bunch of food in you guys' tent. 

"You did a great job."you smiled before walking over to the other boys." Hi guys! What's up?"

"Y/N! Finally! Tell Alex to stop hitting me!" yelled Reggie. You shook your head laughing. 

“Stop being so childish than Reginald!”

“Boys, come on!! It is halloween, have some fun!” and with that you fished out a huge bag of candy from your backpack and threw it into Reggie’s hands. He looked up at you like you were some kind of miracle maker. 

“Is this..is this all candy?” the dark haired boy asked, still in awe. You laughed, nodding your head slightly. 

“Yeah. I don’t really want to think about how much money I spent on sweets.” 

Soon after everyone got to work (this time for real) and the fire was lit in no time. Just as it started to get darker. All five of you sat around the campfire. You sat next to Luke, opposed to  Reggie and Alex. Bobby sat beside them in a camping chair. Thanks to the warm californian weather you didn’t need jackets just yet, despite being the end of october.

"It's getting dark. I think we could get started on the ghost stories?" asked Bobby looking up at the sky then around the little clearing in the woods where your tents were set up. Reggie munched on some candy corns but immediately stopped upon hearing those words. 

"Ghost stories? Don't mind if I do." he sat his candies aside and prepared to tell a story that would send shivers down your spines. You leaned over to Luke, placing your head on his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile before turning his attention back to the bassist. 

"One day, a little boy, while walking around the woods, found a big toe on the ground. He ran home with it and-" 

"-his mom cooked it in the soup which revolted in the toe's owner haunting them." you suddenly cut Reggie off. He gasps, offended. 

"What? I knew the story. Was I supposed to just sit around?" you ask, earning a soft laugh from Luke. Reggie huffed and gestured at you. 

"Alright then, take it away y/n. See if you can do better."

"Not to be that person but she definitely can. You only said like two sentences." Alex jumped in, not wanting to miss an opportunity to roast his friend. 

"Because she cut me off!!" 

The woods, once again erupted with the boys' laughter as you stared into the fire, waiting for them to quiet down so you can start your story. 

"I was only a small kid when this happened, around five,maybe six, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. My mother was out of town for the weekend because of her work, so naturally, it was my father who read me a bedtime story in the evening. Everything was great, he was reading from my favorite book but right before he could finish the chapter we heard a quiet tapping noise from downstairs. My father looked puzzled and put his finger against his lips, signaling me to stay quiet so he could listen. The tapping didn't stop, it got louder before turning into banging and a final loud crash which sounded like the front door flying open. I looked at my father, scared to death, not knowing what to do." you kept your voice low, your face straight and never removed your eyes from the fire."He grabbed me and quickly ran with me to the small bathroom that was connected to my room. He instructed me to lock my door and only open it when he says so. I don't know what happened after that, but heard my father going down and some muffled noises before hearing him climb back up the stairs. I remember his voice. It was just so nice and comforting. He said it was a false alarm and I could come out. I reached for the doorknob but then he leaned down and looked inside through the keyhole. My little hands stopped midair. I kept staring at his eyes. He repeated that it was safe to come out and that everything was fine. But I did not believe him. Because that wasn't my father. He sounded exactly like him, but his eyes… They were a different color. Not my father's welcoming eye color. So I just stood there. For minutes. Maybe hours. He wouldn't stop talking, reassuring me but I still didn't unlock the door."

Reggie leaned forward with a worried and scared expression.  

"What happened next?" 

You lifted your gaze, slowly to look at the spooked boy. 

"He started tapping. It sounded just like it did on the front door. And it wasn't long before he started banging his hand against the wood." 

"Oh my god.." Reggie whispers. 

"He is hitting harder and harder until finally the door breaks and flies open. And the creature, no longer looking or sounding like my father, rather like a tall bloodied figure with sharp teeth, jumps at me, opening his huge mouth and SWALLOWS ME WHOLE." you shout the last part causing Reggie to scream and the others to jump just a little. 

"Fuuckk, i think I peed myself!" exclaims Reggie. You only laugh, seeing all the boys being a bit paler. 

"So who's next?" 

"I'll go." Luke said beside you and you shifted away from him, knowing that he will need the space to gesture along his story. You watched as he started to speak. His expression changes with every sentence as he introduces his characters. His frown as he talks about a creepy night in the woods. Your eyes wander down to his lips, too busy just staring at them to actually listen to the words that make them move. You distantly hear various curse words from the guys as your boyfriend goes deeper into detail with his horrifying story. With eyes still glued to Luke, you smile slightly. 

"../n...y/n...Y/N!" you hear making you jump and almost falling backwards on the log you have been sitting on. You see all the guys staring at you. 

"How are you not scared? Did you not hear Luke's story?" Reggie asks, earning a knowing laugh from Alex. 

"No, she did not. She was too busy staring at his lips." as your friend's words hit your ears you feel your face heating up. 

"Dude..,alright I might have zoomed out. A bit but I am here now. Where were you, babe?" 

Luke looks at you, amused. 

"I finished like 3 minutes ago. You 'zoomed out' for legit 20 minutes." 

Looking up at the sky, you realized they were right because it got pitch black since you last looked up. Your lips curved into an 'o' shape before mumbling a sorry.. 

“We should put more wood on the fire. It's starting to weaken.” says Reggie. Bobby points into the dark woods.

“Suit yourself, man.” 

“What? I am not going alone. Someone come with me.” he whines. Alex visibly changes his posture and sits into a more comfortable position.Luke puts his muscular arm around your shoulder grinning.

“You’re on your own, man.”

“No! Please??”

You bite back a laugh and carefully remove Luke’s arm from you. 

“Alright, I’ll go with you.” 

“Thank you!You are amazing!” 

You grab the basket ,that’s been laying on the ground, for the twigs. You also reach into your bag for your flashlight. 

“Ok, I’m ready to go.” you step towards Reggie but Luke grabs your hand and places a small kiss on it. 

“Be careful, love.”

“Always.”

The two of you start walking towards the woods.

“Try not to pee yourselfs guys!” Alex calls after you in a sing-song voice.

“Ha ha, very funny Alex.”

To be honest you were a little spooked but didn’t show it.Not like Reggie who was literally shaking beside you and jumped up at every little noise he heard as you got further into the woods. You picked up a few sticks and bigger twigs, slowly filling the basket with them. Or rather, you tried but when Reggie stoped right in front of you you accidentally dropped it spilling the stuff everywhere.

“Dude! I am trying to help you here!”

“Shhhhh! Didn’t you hear that?” he whispers, voice panicked. 

“Come on, Reg. This isn’t going to work on me.”

He turns to look at you.

“No, y/n! I am serious! I heard a whisper! I’m sure of it!”

You roll your eyes, not believing your friend.

“You gotta be more convincing next time. I dont scare that easily..AH” just as you assured Reginald how it takes more for you to get spooked, someone, or something grabbed you from behind and started to pull you while shouting ‘WAA’. The flashlight landed on the ground too as you let out a bloodcurdling scream. You kicked your attacker(s?) wherever you could. 

“Ahh! WHoo, stop, it’s just us.” you suddenly hear your boyfriend's voice and feel the arms around you letting go. You turned around your fear vanishing and turning into anger.

Reggie behind you falls on the ground,clutching his chest while he tries not to cry.

“ARE YOU GUYS INSANE?!” you shout at Luke and Booby. Alex is nowhere to be seen, he probably stayed next the fire to keep an eye on your stuff. Luke's eyes immediately  widen upon hearing you raise your voice.

“I..I am sorry we thought-”

“What?! Lucas Patterson I am, so, so mad at you right now” you say shaking. You hear Bobby giggle quietly. You snap your head in his direction. “And don't even get me started on you Bobby...Bobby..uhm” you stop to think about his surname, only to realise you don’t know it. For a moment you let go of your anger. “What is your surname?”

He only scoffs and smiles. Alex must have heard the shouting and come to investigate with a flashlight in one hand and a drumstick (as a weapon?) in his other.He soon puts them down tho as he sees that you are all in one piece. Luke looks at Bobby with a puzzled expression.

“That is actually creepy, cause I don’t know it either.”

“What?! How? He has been in a band for, what? A year and a half? And you never actually asked his last name?” you ask, more interested in the mystery of Bobby’s name than shouting at them now. Luke shrugs.

“Do you even have a last name?” you hear Reggie asking from the ground. You all turn to him with questioning looks.

“Everyone has a last name Reginald.” says Alex.

“Not celtic gods, no.” he responds.

“What?” Luke exclaims clearny not understanding the bassist.

“Bobby is not a god.” says the drummer annoyed. “ He is a normal teenager like us.”

“Is he tho?”

Meanwhile Bobby leans back against a tree and stares at Reggie.

“You are creeping me out...Please stop creeping me out oh majestic god of...what are you the god of?”

Booby just smiles mysteriously. 

“Oh for f…’s sake.Y/N back me up here, there are no gods and even if there were, Bobby is not one of them.”

“Thanks Alex but I am not offending a celtic god.”

“What is wrong with you guys?!”

Luke doesn’t know who to look at in this chaos. Soon he decides to pick up the twigs and collect more while you, Reggie and Alex argue whether Bobby is a god or not. Bobby bends down too, to help the lead singer.

“You do know my name is actually Wilson, right?” 

“Yeah. Of course I do, I think Reggie does too, he just forgot.” the two boys laugh. 

You all walk back to the camp and Booby, upon seeing Reggie still looking at him suspiciously walks over to him.

“I am not an ancient god, you know.”

“That is exactly what I would say too.”

Not hearing Reggie’s nonsense reminds you of what Luke did so when you feel him wrapping his arms around you, you push him away.

“I sorry, bae. I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have. Please look at me?” he stands before you so there is no way you can avoid him.

“Don’t do this again.” you said with a firm tone. You can't help but smile, seeing Luke’s shit eating grin. He opens his arms once again but waits for you to hug him first. You do, and for minutes you just stand there in his embrace. The silence was broken by the familiar sound of the acoustic guitar which was followed by Reggie’s voice as he started to play some country song. 

“Dude, no, put down my guitar.”Luke ran off to get his instrument or to, at least convince him to play ‘normal’ music. You laugh and walk over to Alex and Bobby.

“Hey, y/n, I am sorry about scaring you.”

You wave your hand. 

“It’s fine. However don’t be surprised when I get back at you.” you say before sitting down next to Reggie and giving him a hug because let’s be honest he was pretty traumatised in the woods too.

“Woo,hey! Why does he get a hug?” Luke asks, upset he couldn’t change Reggies mind about playing country songs. And from the fact that his girlfriend was hugging him.

“Maybe because you decided that it was a funny idea to scare the living shit out of him and I.”

“Stop guilt tripping me.” he pulls you up and away from the fire, closer to the tents. ”I said I am sorry. And you are right, I shouldn’t  have scared you. Besides…” he leaned closer to your ear “I know more fun ways to make you scream.”

You gasp upon hearing his words and right when you are about to react Alex walks by casually. 

“No, no. With the tents it’s like we are sleeping next to each other. If you guys try anything I will murder you myself.”

Both of you look after him, blushing before breaking into laughter.

Luke’s watch showed 3:58 when you all agreed to call it a night.You put out the fire with the help of Bobby while Luke went to pack away the trash you all left out.

Reggie yawned and looked up at Alex.

“I am still pretty scared...Can I cuddle you Alex?”

He looks at him like he heard it wrong.

“Absolutely not.”

“What about you Bobby?”

“No way, Reg.”

Despite them saying this, all three of them woke up hugging each other in the morning.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

5, 12, 15, and 29 for barry :O??

from this headcanon prompt list! (still accepting!)

5) What’s their sleeping schedule?

so i feel like Barry is probably one of those people who try to keep a decent sleep schedule because he *knows* his limits and he *knows* that once you lose some hours of sleep, you don't just get them back. I feel like normally in bed by midnight at the latest, up by seven am.

HOWEVER, I think sometimes when Barry's busy trying to crack the secrets of the universe, the insomnia he had for a few semesters of college rears its ugly head and he's incapable of going to bed by his own choice. (there's a small addition to the mostly ignored Starblaster chore chart for this - "Physically make Barry go to bed" and only Dav and Lup are ever really successful in this)

12) Something small that they enjoy?

mmm I think just in general the smell of campfires and the first cold day of winter. The one that makes your nose go a little pink and the one that makes hot cocoa taste that much better. and waking up early only to realize that he actually has like three more hours to sleep

15) Biggest pet peeve?

since it says pet peeve, i'm going to go with some insignificant annoyances and all that. I think Barry hates having his schedule thrown off. Like, not a sleep schedule or anything but if he says he wants to be somewhere at a certain time and he doesn't get to start going to that place with ample time, he gets super antsy about it. Punctuality is very important to Barry.

29) Any past injuries?

Not really any injuries pre stolen century, though I do think he got real sick as a kid for a while. He got better, obviously, but I think he lost a good chunk of time just...being stuck in his room. All that spare time gave him the chance to become enamored with the very fine mechanics of the planarverse and the idea of traveling between planes. But he still can't shake the feeling that his trajectory may have been completely different if he didn't have to just. Stop for almost a whole year. I think the few friends he did have at that time just kinda drifted from him? And it wasn't malicious, they were all kids and it was scary. Barry was sick and he wasn't getting better for a while. Heavy shit to deal with.

Also like, that helped strengthen his relationship with his mom. I genuinely think that Barry's best friend for a lot of his life was Marlena (when she was alive, at least).

[lesetoilesfous]

Hii :3 I love reading your stories Lese? Is it alright if I call you Lese?? I saw that you were taking prompts and are very close to getting a bingo on that last row. Buried Alive for Anders maybe, whenever youre available ofc? Fenders??? :0 hshsjsjskjd

Hey, thank you so much!! I'm happy to be called Lese, I like Les or Kat, but anything works!!! Thank you so much for helping me try to get a bingo, I really hope you enjoy this one!!!

@badthingshappenbingo Fandom: Dragon Age 2

Prompt: Buried Alive

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders, Marian Hawke, Varric Tethras

Additional Tags: Graphic Depiction of Injury, Buried Alive, Panic Attack, Trauma Responses, Pre-Relationship, Past Flogging, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 2,380

Rating: Mature

“I’ve got it, go! GO!” Anders’ voice bellowing is the last thing Fenris hears before the overwhelming thunder of the cavern collapsing around them drowns out everything else.

He feels as if his mind and his body are torn apart as he runs: his legs leaving his conscious control as they’re overtaken by sheer animal instinct to get away from the collapsing mountain, his mind and sweat-stinging eyes full of the image of Anders’ tall, broad body holding his staff over his shoulders and propping up enough of a threshold for his friends to escape. Fenris’ sweating, bloody feet skid on the sandy stone as he’s deafened by the roar, his breath coming in and out of his lungs in great heaves of fresh snow and broken glass. Ahead of him is the ocean: wide and blue and wrinkled, utterly untouched by the chaos on the beach. Varric skids into the sand beside him with Hawke’s hand on the back of his jacket, her bicep tense where she’s half-lifting the dwarf off the ground.

Fenris blinks, turning around, dizzy suddenly with breathlessness and adrenaline as every chemical pumping through his body flushes into his racing mind. He stumbles, and Hawke catches him, deftly, her blue eyes wide and over-alert the way they always are whenever they get into a situation they might not survive. Fenris has seen that expression on soldiers before, and doesn’t doubt she’s carried it with her since Lothering. He neither pulls away nor leans into her touch, and after a moment she drops her hand to rest on her thighs, bending almost double as she heaves in her breath.

Behind them there’s a hissing avalanche of sand, and great scabs of reeds come tumbling down onto the beach as the cavern crumbles. Fenris has seen the devastating effects of gaatlok before, but somehow his memory never fully prepares him for the imminent blast radius. Slowly, terribly slowly, Fenris’ heart starts to slow, and his breathing begins to return to normal. He becomes aware of the sweat drying on his neck, and the salty taste of the sea breeze in his mouth. His ears are still ringing with the thunder of the cavern collapse when he hears a snap.

The sound is sharp as a whip, even through the stormcloud of noise, and Fenris notices Hawke and Varric exchange a startled look out of the corner of his eye in the split second before he starts running. Fenris stumbles to a stop in front of the cave entrance: a mess of black and grey boulders stained with algae and riddled with tumorous molluscs. The stones have cracked open in places, revealing rich layers of red and orange and yellow. Fenris barely notices, he breathes, and coughs on the sand kicked up the collapse, and breathes again before shouting into the mess. “MAGE! MAGE! MAGE! IF YOU YET LIVE, ANSWER ME.”

Fenris stops, and hears his own voice snatched by the wind and away down the dunes. At Hawke’s heels, Dog is whining, frightened by Fenris’ uncharacteristic display of emotion. Hawke puts a hand on Fenris’ shoulders, and he shrugs her off and hates her a little when her mouth falls in a brief moue of sympathy that’s gone when he blinks. She climbs up the rocks a little, one boulder reaching halfway up her torso. “ANDERS! ANDERS, ARE YOU IN THERE?”

There’s an ominous rumble, and a skittering rain of gravel and sand tumbles down the boulders. Varric clears his throat. “Go easy on the yelling, you two. We don’t want to make it worse.”

Fenris turns to him, seized by a sudden, terrible blade of hope that skewers his heart and twists in it. “Varric. What do we do?”

Varric raises an eyebrow at him. “I grew up on the surface, remember? Your guess is as good as mine.”

Anger, sudden and red, floods behind Fenris’ eyes. “That’s not good enough!” His voice rings against the rocks, and Varric purses his lips. Hawke steps between them.

“Quietly, remember? Come on, if we start moving this lot now then -” She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t say, if he’s unconscious, he might have a chance. Doesn’t say, we could get him before he bleeds out. Doesn’t say, there’s no way we can stop him suffocating, now.

Fenris nods, more relieved than he wants to admit at finally having something to do. He starts grabbing rocks, randomly at first - until one boulder grinds down onto his hand and he has to bite his arm til it bleeds to stop himself from screaming. After that it’s slow, terrible work, one rock at a time, for hours, as the bright blue sky above them bleeds to gray to welcome a hot, muggy evening and black stinging bugs emerge from the dunes to nip curiously at their burning skin.

Fenris’ knuckles are aching, and his palms are chafed raw, scratched and bleeding by the time they get through. Hawke is little better, her knuckles scraped and bruised. Even Dog is covered in a thick layer of dust, and Varric has lain Bianca reverently beside a dune with his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, an expression of uncharacteristic severity on his face as he frowns at the boulders.

The first thing they find is his staff. Fenris knows it wasn’t important to him - had seen how easily Anders had dropped one staff for another, stolen from a former gangster or some other ne’er-do-well who had had the misfortune to attack them. But there’s still something terribly simple about the snapped, useless wood when they find a splintered shaft in the rubble. Fenris blinks, and sees Anders, wide shoulders braced by that staff as he held up the collapsing ceiling, hair thick with dust and rubble. He swallows against his dry throat, sore with rock dust, and keeps moving rubble.

The sky is bleeding red by the time they find him. Dog finds him first, yelping and then whining as she scrabbles at the dust. Fenris thinks, distant, numb in his shock and delayed grief, that Anders would be surprised to learn the hound cared. But then he’s there, his feet having moved him again, without thought, and he’s crouching to lift a great splintered boulder out of the way, and his toes touch soft hair and Fenris nearly cries out. As it is, he dumps the boulder and rushes forward.

Anders is pinned between a series of rocks. His eyes are open and his hand is purple and covered with cherry red blood. Blood seeps out between the boulders around him, and his nose and mouth are thick with it. His eyes are wide open and staring, and for an awful, awful heartbeat Fenris thinks he’s dead. But then the low, soft sound of murmuring reaches him over the constant sound of the sea. “Letmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeout.”

Fenris drags on the lyrium sewn into his skin and for the first time in his known life finds himself thanking the Maker, or Andraste, or the Creators, for this hideous, agonising ability. He plunges his hands through the thick stone of the rock, and wraps his fingers around a horrifically mangled mass that he thinks is one of Anders’ shoulders, and pulls.

Anders screams - an awful, hoarse thing that breaks on the way out of his split lips. But he’s out, and in the dirt, and breathing, and Fenris doesn’t think before he pulls the man into his arms and holds him so tightly his arms hurt. Fenris’ tattoos are still glowing, star-bright in the growing dark, and his muscles feel locked in place as he buries his face in Anders’ shoulder and breathes in the stink of sweat and piss and blood. He doesn’t care. He holds Anders so hard he’s shivering. He can’t shake the idea that if he lets go, even a little, he’ll forget how to breathe.

After several long minutes, in which Fenris’ muscles become so tense they ache like a bruise, Anders comes back into himself, slumping into Fenris’ arms. The movement jostles his mangled shoulder, and he whimpers, and Fenris’ arms tighten around him, as if a simple embrace will stop the pain. When Anders starts to cry, softly, trembling into Fenris’ shoulder, Fenris realises that his own face is already wet with cold tears that he doesn’t remember crying. Above them, the sky is charcoal and midnight blue, and the first stars are climbing over the sea.

Hawke lights a campfire, and steps closer to touch Fenris’ shoulder. He doesn’t react, but she doesn’t let go until he turns to look at her. Her face is still streaked with dust, and her eyes are red, but there are no signs of tear tracks that he can see in the dark. Her strong jaw is tense when she says, firmly, “We need to deal with his injuries.” Her face softens, slightly, as she adds, “You can hold him again, after.”

Slowly, feeling as if he’s been petrified in place and is now trying to coax stone, Fenris stiffly uncurls his arms. Anders doesn’t do or say anything, though his breathing hitches at the movement of his mangled arm. Fenris pushes his dusty hair out of his face, trying to avoid a thick gash across his forehead. “Mage. We need to look at your injuries.”

Anders looks at him slowly, his brown eyes almost gold in the firelight. He nods, and Fenris moves his hand to gently begin the process of peeling his blood-encrusted coat away from his skin. Anders clenches his teeth, his jaw thick with stubble full of dust, and breathes in long, shaking breaths as Fenris moves the filthy leather. When he gets to the worst of it - a place where Anders’ coat and shirt are black with blood and concave as they’ve been pushed into his body, Fenris grits his teeth. “One - two -” Before he says three, Fenris rips the coat free, causing Anders to cry out and topple forward. Fenris catches him on his good shoulder, and behind Anders, Hawke and Varric’s faces go pale.

“Blood and ashes.” Varric murmurs, looking sick. Anders’ breath starts coming faster in short, shallow pants. Fenris rushes forward, brushing his cheek with his thumb, fingers curled around his ear.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. We’ve got you.”

It takes Hawke an hour to get the debris out of the torn, broken mess of Anders’ shoulder blade. When she’s done, there’s a thin sheen of sweat across her pale skin and she looks older than she has since Bethany joined the Wardens. The fire is low and red, but Varric keeps wandering off to fetch more driftwood. There’s a small pile of shattered stone and bone on the sand that Hawke buries almost immediately. Dog is lying down beside her master, sandy head on her great paws, whining occasionally when Anders huffs a soft sound of pain. Fenris is trying, hard, not to stare at the canvas of familiar scars exposed by their impromptu operation, glittering silver in the dark like a crosshatch tattooed across Anders’ freckled back.

The sea laps softly at the beach behind them, and around them the dunes hiss with the breeze. Hawke looks at Fenris, “That’s all I can do, for now. Hopefully his mana will be back tomorrow and he’ll be able to heal the rest.” She swallows, thickly. “I knew I should’ve brought Merrill.”

Between them, Anders is all but unconscious, lying on his front, naked down to his waist, skin covered in newly cleaned cuts and bruises. Fenris stares at him for a long moment, running his fingers through the other man’s hair. He thinks he’s trying to comb the dust out, but it’s not doing much and it’s more of a nervous habit than anything. He breaks the sighing silence between them. “It’s not your fault.”

Hawke says nothing, sitting back on the other side of the fire and staring at the shifting sea, gilded with silver by the moon. The fire licks gold and rubies across her skin. She bends her knees, and rests her elbows on them, pressing her forehead to her skin and breathing for several long moments. Fenris waits. He knows he won’t be sleeping much tonight, anyway. Eventually, Hawke turns her head to the side, still resting on the pillow of her forearms. “I didn’t know you were close.”

Fenris’ fingers pause in their combing of Anders’ hair. But after two heartbeats, the discomfort of not reminding himself that the man beside him is still alive is greater than compromising whatever bud of new life they’d been nurturing between them. He bites the inside of his cheek to try and wake himself up from the distant feeling of grief and shock. “It...has not been happening for long. But I think the feelings which led to it have been growing for some time.” A shadow of a smile touches the corner of his lips. “Perhaps it has been growing since the day we met.” Hawke snorts, and Fenris’ ghost of a smile grows into something honest when he looks at her, and more than a little self deprecating. “It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

Hawke shrugs, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth softening as she looks at him. “Oh, I don’t know. Opposites attract.”

Fenris snorts, then, and Dog looks up with a hiccoughing huff to see what they’re coughing at. Fenris leans forward, feeling the heat of the fire licking up his sides as he scratches Dog’s soft head. She whines, and yawns, baring a series of black and yellow teeth. Fenris leans further, and digs his fingertips behind the warm velvet of her ears. Dog’s tail thumps softly against the sand. Fenris looks up when he feels Hawke watching him. Her blue eyes are like bottled lightning in the dark. “You’re a good man, Fenris.”

Fenris gives her a tight smile, trying to stifle the pain behind it, and sits back, moving to drag a blanket out of his pack and lay it lightly over Anders. Anders huffs, and sighs in his sleep, face creasing in pain when he moves onto his shoulder. Fenris cards his fingers through his hair until the wrinkles ease, before looking back up at Hawke and saying, honestly. “So is he.”

[alwaysfangirlingish]

Title: Unwrapped gift

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Female!Reader (But is more about Kol Mikaelson x Friend!Reader and Young Hope Mikaelson x StepMom!Reader)

Warnings: I wanted this to be a thing but I think I missed the whole point, so it may be just a lot of nonsense together :)

A/N: I may edit it later, I just wrote it and I’m sleepy, so... I hope you enjoy it tho 💕✨

Thanks for reading! If you liked this, please consider like, comment and reblog! ✨💕🥺

“Oh, here you are, Y/N,” Kol said, “My brother is looking for you,” He entered the room to see what I was doing, “I’ll tell Nik you’re taping your present.”

“I’m wrapping it.”

“There’s more tape than wrapping paper, luv,” He said, chuckling.

“Shut up, I'm trying,” I said before curving my lips, keeping my eyes on the present I was trying to wrap an hour ago.

This was going to be my first Christmas with the Mikaelsons and, more important, with my boyfriend’s six-year-old daughter, who seemed to hate me since the very first moment she saw me.

Hope was a cute little girl. Everybody loved her, I included, and she loved everybody, except me. For some reason, she didn't want me around, and I couldn't live knowing that, so... My goal for Christmas was to give Hope the best gift and win her affection.

“I don't think my niece will care about the gift wrap, Y/N,” He said, looking at me with a stupid smirk on his face.

“Well, I don’t care what you think.”

“It looks terrible.” 

“Shhh.”

“Just give her the gift unwrapped.”

“Kol, I’m tryi-!”

“I would hate it if someone gives me that rubbish for Christmas.”

“I just wanted this to be perfect!” I yelled, punching the pillow at my side with frustration before hiding my face in my hands.

The gift was a tiny painting lectern with some little canvas, but with the wrap looked like an enormous ball of paper. It was a disaster, I couldn't give her that for Christmas.

Some tears fell from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks and falling on the bedsheets. Later I felt Kol sitting next to me, rubbing my back up and down to calm me.

“Y/N, I didn’t m-”

“No, it’s ok, it's just... Today was a mess,” I said with a weak voice, still hiding my face in my hands, “First, I woke up very late,”

“Yeah, I see why it was a bad day,” He said, nodding. Everybody knew how bad it was if something messed up my routine.

“Yes, I also burned the food for tonight, so I had to do it again,” I said, taking my hands off my face, “And then my dress didn't fit me, so I had to fix it but I couldn't finish it because I had to go to pick up the presents,” I looked at him with my soaked face, “But then the old man at the store didn't want to give me my things, I don't even know why,” I sobbed, under his concerned gaze, “And when I got home, I finished everything but I forgot to wrap the present,” I said, patting my legs, and looking down, “I thought it wouldn't take much, but look at me now...” 

“I know how important this is to you, Y/N,” He said, “And I know you’re a control freak too,” I looked at him, pouting, “Sometimes things don’t go our way, and all we need to do is take a deep breathe and try again when we’re calmed, or just let go,”

“Have you tried any of that?”

“No, but I heard that from a tv show once,” He said, making me roll my eyes, “Look, I’m sure Hope is going to love you... Eventually, with a wrapped or unwrapped gift,” He smiled at me, kissing my cheek.

“Do you really think that?” I asked him.

“What happened with ‘I don’t care what you think’?” He raised an eyebrow, “But yes, I believe what I said,”

 “Thanks, Kol,” I said with a brief smile.

“What are brother’s in law and friends for?” He said, getting up from the bed and walking towards the door, “We’ll be waiting for you downstairs, so hurry.”

Immediately after the vampire left the room, I unwrapped the gift. He was right, the wrapping paper didn't matter here, I just stressed myself more and more.

I got out of bed to put on my dress, makeup and hairstyle as quickly as I could, which was about twenty minutes. I picked up the little lectern with the canvases and put a red bow on them, and went down to where everyone was, except Hope and Hayley, who I heard were still getting ready.

I went to the tree and left the gift there. I smiled to myself, realising that the little girl wasn't even here the whole time, so I could have simply put the gift behind the tree without her seeing me so that the gift would continue to be a surprise.

“You look ravishing, love” my boyfriend, Klaus, approached me from the side, placing his hand on my waist, drawing me towards him, leaving a kiss on my neck.

“Thanks, darling, and you look so handsome,” I replied with a smile before we headed over to where everyone was drinking and chatting.

Later, the little person who wanted to see the most came, calling everyone's attention as she entered with her cute and fashionable ponytail. She greeted everyone with a hug, happy to see her uncles, aunts and her father. The moment she saw me, her smile turned into a straight line and she only greeted me with a wave of her hand before running off into her mother's arms again.

Klaus hugged me knowing that it discouraged me, and whispered to me that soon she would feel comfortable with me, that she was shy, that it was not my fault, that I had to give her a little more time... Things that he already had told me, but I couldn't get on my mind.

All night I tried to interact with little Hope, I offered her food, offered her some of her toys if I saw her getting bored, offered her to choose a song she liked to put on the speaker... But she just ran the other way, or she would stare at me like I was annoying.

When it was midnight, we all gathered around the campfire as I had been told was a family tradition and make wishes. My wish was quite obvious: I wished I could get along with Hope one day. After making that beautiful wish, it was time for the gifts, and the little girl was very excited about it.

Hope got all the gifts, of course, she was the spoiled and dearest girl in the house. Her face of happiness when seeing all her gifts made my heart melt.

Rebekah and Marcel gave her stuffed animals, which she squeezed a lot. Elijah and Hayley gave her a toy she seems to have asked for a lot all year. Klaus gave her a portrait of her and a family heirloom that left her astonished as any six-year-old girl could. Freya and Keelin gave her a kind of giant dollhouse, in which she didn't waste a second entering and greeting all of us from the little window. Kol and Davina decided to give her some little witch things, which made her very excited, and she placed them in her dollhouse right away.

Now it was my turn, and I was very nervous. They had all been splendid gifts, and I only had one painting stand. With some insecurity, I put my gift in front of me and she looked at him carefully with wide eyes.

“Is it for painting?” She asked me, speaking to me for the first time that night. I nodded with a warmhearted smile as I stepped back and hugged Klaus. She smiled, approaching the gift, touching it with her little hand. “Am I going to paint like my daddy?” She asked and looked at me with a smile from ear to ear when I nodded again. She jumped with excitement and ran to hug me, thanking me.

A few small tears gathered in my eyes when I returned the hug, and my gaze went to Kol, who nodded as if to say 'I told you so'. Hope let go of me and ran up the stairs screaming that she would find her paintings and do a portrait of all of us.

The best Christmas in the world.

[lovewriting-5]

Wastelands:

*photo is not mine*

8. Paradise Lost

10. Bad Harvest

Side note: I reversed the roles in this one. I’m not writing smut.

*I know I had him get a haircut in “Campfire Tales” but this was the best picture I could find*

9. Midnight Swim:

I can faintly hear Sean’s footsteps behind me. We reach the lake. I reach the edge of the lake and pause. Sean comes up behind me. He places his lips to my right temple and asks “Ready for this?” I hesitate, “I’m not sure.”

Sean gives me a wink and begins stripping down. I turn away in surprise. “What exactly did you have in mind, Diaz?” I ask. He says nothing and starts walking into the water. Sean begins “Oh fuck! FUUUCK! Whoo! Yes, I’m in! What are you waiting for?!” I dip my fingers into the water, “Oh, fuck this! It’s freezing!”

He’s swimming a little back and forth, “It’s all in your head! Just don’t think about it!” I mumble to myself “Huh...sure...Don’t think...”

I roll my eyes and give in. I begin lifting my shirt when he says “Whoo!” I give him a smirk and do a rotating motion with my hand. He throws his head back, “Really?” “Please.” I say. “Fine.” As he spins to face the forest behind him.

I strip down and make my way into the freezing water. “Brrrr...Okay, here I come...I think...” I tell him. I go as far as the top of the water reaching just below my clavicle. Sean turns back around, “You look a little cold. Want me to help with that?” He gets a smirk on his face. It took me a couple seconds to realize what he’s talking about. I hold my hands up, “Sean...do not even - -“ as he begins splashing me. I tell him “Dude, you are so...”

Sean raises an eyebrow, “Adorable? Yeah, I know! Not bad, (Y/L/N). Didn’t think you’d actually do it!” I tell him as I shiver a little, “My body just had to get used to it...Not that cold.”

He smirks “That’s because I had to pee...” I splash him as I say, “Ha ha HA! You’ve been spending too much time with Finn. But...speaking of...what are you gonna do about Finn and...You know, his plan.” He says “It’s a really stupid idea. Way too dangerous. Especially for Daniel.” I tell him “I know...Finn acts like this is no big deal, but...this feels bad.” I look down at the water, “Plus, I don’t want you guys to get in any more trouble...”

The water on my right side splashes a little. Sean has moved a little closer, “Yeah, tell that to Daniel. He’s gonna be pissed.” I look at him, “He’s your brother, he’ll listen to you. Finn says he wants to take care of us but...but he doesn’t always see other people...It’s all about him.” It was his turn to look at the water, “I know. But I feel bad for ruining his dream.” I tell him “I’m sure he’ll rage for awhile but then he’ll be cool. He likes you.” Sean asks “What do you mean?”

“You seriously can’t tell?” I ask him. He says with a smirk as he swims closer, “Actually, if you can’t tell...I really like you.” I place my arms around the back of his neck, “If you haven’t already noticed but we are both naked...” Blushing, he says while he puts his hands on my waist, “Well...I’m surprised you joined me. I thought you were going to bail because it was so cold.” Changing the subject, I ask “So what did Cassidy do to your arm?” He holds it out of the water, “Oh...she just gave me my first tattoo.” I wrap my arms a little more around his neck, “Oooo, you’re a badass. What did you get?” He says “A wolf.” Kind of circling back to the previous topic, “So...do you wanna kiss me?”

“Considering I’ve kissed you multiple times but never in a lake at night while we’re both like this...yes, I do.” Sean says. I kiss him. After a half hour, I pulled away. I ask “So, what do you say we get outta here?”

We walk out of the water and this time I don’t try and hide while getting dressed. I can feel the clothes starting to cling to my body. As we walk back to the camp, the clothes feel a little stiff with the cool air. I intertwine my fingers with Sean’s. On our way back, he would look over and lean down to kiss me.

Since him and Daniel share a tent, we make our way to my tent. We reached my tent, I say “Hold on a sec.” I kneel down, unzip the flap and move a few things out of the way. I stand back up, “Sean, hello?” We both are nervous in this moment. He asks with nervousness, “You want me to come inside?” I tell him with a small smile, “Only if you would like to.”

“Yeah, I do...” he says with a small smile. Sean kneels down and crawls in. I crawl in after him. He lays on his left side propped up on his elbow. I sit cross legged. I look at him, “You cool?” He begins tracing a circle on the floor of the tent, “Um, totally. Uh...I’m...I’m just nervous...Kinda bummed we waited ‘til now...” “Me too. We’ve had a few moments before but there was too much other stuff going on at the time.” I tell him. I lean close and give him a quick kiss.

I move to laying on my right side also propped up on my elbow. He looks down again at the floor, “Uh...Hey listen, I...I think you should know that I’m...uh...” I tell him “Sean, it’s okay. I am too but how about we both learn together.” He looks at me, smiles and then leans in to kiss me.

We get intimate and after some time, we stopped. Sean sits up and wraps his arms around the top of his knees. I sit up, place my arms around him and lay my chin on his left shoulder.

I ask him “Hey...What’s up?” He says “Nothing, I just...Never mind.” “Come on...you can talk to me! Sean, this is the first time for both of us...How about we promise not to give each other a bad review online? Promise?” I tell him. He says with a chuckle, “Promise and that’s very sweet. But you don’t have to be like that.” I say “Hey, I mean it, Sean. Just take it easy and...We’ll have time to practice...Okay? Okay, we need some fresh air, let’s get dressed...Until we fuck again.”

Both of us get dressed and step out of the tent. I tell him “Sean, it’s all good, okay?” That’s when Hannah and Cassidy come over to us. Hannah asks “Hey, what’s happening? Wait - - did you guys just have sex?!” I tell her with a small smile, “Yeah, kinda!” Sean embarrassingly, says “Uh, yep...”

Hannah asks “Did you see Finn? He was with Daniel but now I can’t find him.” I tell them “We didn’t see anybody out there...but...” Cassidy gets a realization, “We better go now.” Irritated, Sean says “Figures Daniel is with him...” Hannah says before walking off, “Just tell Finn I wanna talk. Thanks much. Later.” She walks back to the campfire.

Before walking off, Sean gives me a kiss. Cassidy and him begin walking away. As I watch them walk off toward Merrill’s place, I start getting really nervous and anxious. I begin thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

[heartbreakheroics]

sometimes playing the witcher 3 makes me worry for geralt’s (and my own) mental health (seriously, the people you help in the game fucking SUCK???), so i wrote about it: It’s raining when Geralt stumbles away from the campsite, a strange feeling lodged in his throat. This is why he never sits down with strangers, with anyone. He knows this, and yet – he’d been on the road by himself for months, and that’s fine – it is, this is the Path, it’s what he does – but somehow the many wry endings that his latest contracts had found had started to wear on him. Being forced to kill a werewolf to protect the man’s own fiancée, her screaming and crying as she refused to meet his eyes; helping a baron to find his wife and child only to find out he was the reason they had fled; running into wraith upon wraith and finding their letters filled with despair… 

So tonight, when a small group of men had called him over to where they were warming their hands over a campfire, offering him some ale, Geralt had accepted. He would never have normally, but he’d been so frayed, so hollow. Conversation had been fine, after he’d grudgingly told them his name and they had all cast their individual judgement on it, and the atmosphere had almost become pleasant. Until one of the men had known a little too much about politics and Nilfgaardian plans for one of the others’ liking. He’d jumped up, yelling about how the man was a Nilfgaardian spy and ordering Geralt to hold him down. Geralt had tried to calm them down, to keep them apart, to use axii – all in vain. As he’d been focused on the first two, the third man had turned against the supposed spy as well, had stabbed him sloppily, and soaked his hands in blood. 

Not for the first time, Geralt wonders if he should be protecting those humanity calls monsters instead. 

Well past midnight, he walks into Oxenfurt, 

Roach stepping along behind him. The last thing he wants right now is more people, but he is low on supplies, and Roach deserves a roof over her head for a change. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he makes his way over cobblestones and patches of sand towards the university buildings. There’s an odd tug in his chest as he catches the familiar smell of cedarwood and jasmine, and glimpses candlelight coming from the window he’s looking for. Jaskier is home. 

Discomfort creeps up his spine as he realises he can no longer deny what he’s doing. What is he thinking? He stops dead in his tracks, Roach’s nose bumping his shoulder as she comes to a halt behind him. She snorts, ruffling his hair. When he turns to look at her, her ears are pricked forward, her nostrils flared.

‘You smell him too, girl?’ Geralt asks softly, rubbing her cheek. She headbutts him in answer. 

He flicks his gaze back at the row of buildings and makes a decision. ‘Come on, then.’

The stables are quiet, a sole sleepy guard keeping watch in front of them. Geralt vaguely recognises him as a young lad from one of Jaskier’s classes. John? Jord? Geoffrey? 

The boy straightens, his movements stiff. ‘Mr. Geralt, sir!’ he says, squinting in the light of a single torch. ‘Mr. Witcher of Rivia. How are you, sir? Are you visiting Jas- professor de Lettenhove?’

The question – assumption, really – catches Geralt off-guard. He nods curtly. ‘I need a stable for Roach here.’ There’s a beat. ‘Please.’ 

The boy – Yason? – smiles broadly. ‘I can take care of that, sir, you go on and catch professor de Lettenhove before he goes to bed. Not that he seems to go to sleep early, mind, the other day a mate of mine said that she saw his light on hours after midnight –’

‘Thank you, Yann,’ Geralt says, glad to remember the lad’s name at last, and effectively shutting him up. Yann’s face lights up at that, and honestly, what has Jaskier told these kids? The look of awed reverence is unsettling. Fucking bard and his stories.

With a last pat on her neck, he hands Roach over. He usually prefers taking care of her himself, but he knows he can trust the kid to do it well. That, and some part of him is heeding Yann’s words, wanting to catch Jaskier before the man goes to sleep.

He doesn’t let himself think before he knocks on Jaskier’s door. The wood is a clear blue under his knuckles, standing out from the plain doors of the surrounding houses. Of course. He can hear Jaskier get up, stretching and cracking his back – Geralt decidedly doesn’t flinch at that – and make his way over to the door.

Bleary, glazed-over eyes meet his own and widen. ‘Geralt!’ Jaskier says, sounding pleased even when no human should at this hour. He is in a long, white shirt, and his hair is mussed, looking rumpled. A small wrinkle forms between his brows as he looks Geralt over.

The next thing he knows, the bard has thrown his arms around him, holding him tight. And Geralt is disgusting, surely, covered in dust and mud and blood, and he doesn’t normally do this, they don’t – but gods, he doesn’t have the energy to protest. He leans into Jaskier’s solid weight, just a little. Brings his arms up to awkwardly rest on his back, and breathes him in. It settles something deep inside him, makes his breath come out in a shudder and his shoulders drop. 

‘There you go,’ Jaskier says softly, rubbing circles into his back. It’s – new, but it feels good against his tense muscles. Geralt steps back.

‘I -’

‘Come on in,’ Jaskier interrupts him, turning around and walking inside without looking back.

Geralt sighs. Maybe he can stay. Just for a little while.

[thinking1bee]

Positive Reinforcement One Shot

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Reassurance, 18+ Audience

You were starting to hate college. Like hate, hate, hate it. Your parents reassured you that you would have a fun time, but being sleep deprived, hungry, and poor was not your typical definition of fun.

You lived with your girlfriend in a shared apartment in National City, opting to have your own personal space with her rather than being stuck living in a dorm with people you didn’t know. You wanted the college experience but not all of it. Besides more time spent with Kara Danvers was the best time you ever could spend with someone. Your girlfriend was like a ray of literal sunshine. Anytime she smiled, it lit up the room and you made it your own personal mission to make her smile whenever possible. You knew all about her being an alien and in hindsight, it made sense to you actually. She was too perfect, too attractive, and you could never understand what she saw in you. Kara was a blue eyed goddess that was, quite literally, out of this world. You, on the other hand, was a gay disaster that wore the same sweats and tshirts because you were too poor to wash your clothes at the laundromat sometimes.

Kara knew of your insecurities. She knew what made you tick and she still wanted to be a part of your life. Her powers allowed her to hear physiological changes in you, no matter how minute they were. That meant you could never get away with crying…ever. The moment Kara heard you heart rate increase and heard you sniffle, she’d stop what she was doing just to make sure you were okay.

Tonight was no different. Kara was out late. She told you that she would be at the DEO doing some work for them, so with a kiss and a hug, Kara flew out of the balcony and to the base. You, on the other hand, were at home, swamped with organic chemistry homework and an exam that you were less than prepared for.

The thing was that, general chemistry had been super easy to you. Even analytical chemistry was a piece of cake, but something about organic chemistry made you want to play in traffic. Theoretically speaking, what you were learning should have been easy. As a matter of fact, you didn’t know why you were struggling so hard with it. All you were learning about were intermolecular forces, right? Wrong! Your brain wasn’t able to wrap itself around the concept, and you got more questions wrong than right on your online homework. You figure you’d get the hang of it eventually, but one hour turned into two, which turned into three, and escalated to it being night and still your homework wasn’t finished.

When midnight rolled around, it all but took you to not beat your head against your college textbook. You were so done with this, and frustrated. And when you were frustrated, you cried.                                *** Kara had just got done putting out a fire when she heard you. Your heart rate was increasing along with your blood pressure. She could also hear your soft sobs. Her heart dropped and she pressed the button on her comm.

“Alex I have to go. I think something’s wrong with Y/n.”

Kara didn’t wait for Alex to say anything. She took off into the sky with a loud boom following mere milliseconds after her red boots left the ground.

                              *** You’re surprised to hear Kara land on the balcony almost harshly, the sounds of her feet slamming against the concrete was enough to make you jump. In the second that it took for you to blink, Kara was in front of you, her deep blue eyes crinkled in concern and her soft hands caressing your cheeks comfortingly.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?”

You can see the worry in her eyes and you smiled fondly. You were about to explain when Kara’s scent grabbed your attention. She smelled like a mixture of ozone and a campfire. The scents soothed you and before you could stop yourself, you’re in her arms, burying your face into her neck. Without missing a beat, Kara engulfed you into a tight hug.

“Y/n?”

Kara’s eyes drifted to your homework. She saw the scribbled out notes, the wads of crumpled paper, and eraser shavings. It didn’t take long for her to put two and two together.

“Homework?” she whispered as she smoothed your hair. All you could do was nod and sniffle. Without releasing her hold on you, Kara rifled through your work to see what you were learning. She smiled as she sweetly kissed your forehead.

“I want to help you babe.”

You looked at her. “You know about intermolecular forces?”

It honestly shouldn’t surprise you. Kara was crazy smart. Leave her in a room alone with Lena Luthor and something would be invented on the spot.

Kara nodded her head, and in a flash, she was gone. She didn’t keep you waiting for long when she came back, just seconds later, and was completely naked. Her sun kissed skin was on full display for you. Her muscles rippled hypnotically as she shifted from foot to the other. Strapped to her hips was your favorite toy, a realistic magenta pink silicone dildo that was 7 inches long. At the sight of her, your mouth watered and you found it hard to concentrate.

“I’m not saying no, but how is this going to help me?” you asked, your voice low and husky even to your own ears.

Kara smiled as she watched the physical change in you. The dilated pupils, the increase in heart rate, which slowed when Kara gave you the hug, but picked back up in pace. She could smell how wet you were getting by the second.

“Every time you get a question right, you’ll be rewarded.”

“And if I get a question wrong?” you asked as you took her outstretched hand, the warmth of her touch radiating through your body to pool more arousal in your underwear.

“There are no wrong answers babe,” Kara cooed as she undressed you slowly, taking her time to inhale your musky scent as she removed your underwear. She placed a blazing kiss on your core as she got on her knees in front of you. You shivered as you felt her hot breath against your arousal covered skin.

“Let’s start with an the weakest interaction. Explain Van Der Waals forces to me.”

Right as you were about to speak, you felt Kara’s tongue lick through your soaked folds before teasing your clit. What was suppose to be an explanation, came out instead as a breathy moan. You ran your fingers through your hair as a rush of pleasure washed through your body. Kara smiled as she kissed your core again. She was incredibly patient with you as you forced your brain to kick start into motion again. You swallowed thickly before blurting out the answer.

“Van Der Waals forces are forces that happen within the molecule or atom.”

“Good girl,” Kara praised before licking you again. You couldn’t stop the moan that left your parted lips.

“And why are they so weak?” she asked as she licked your opening which caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“They’re distance dependent dipole interactions. The farther apart they are, the weaker the force.”

“Excellent.”

Kara continued to suck your clit. She kept going until your body went rigid and you came around her mouth.

“Oh my god,” you sighed breathlessly, your legs shaking from the force of your orgasm.

Kara smiled as she licked her lips. You watched her tongue gather your wetness before it disappeared back into her mouth.

“And to think that we still have three more that we need to learn.”

And that’s how Kara taught it to you. By the time you reached the last force, the toy was buried deep inside you, her hands on your ass as she held you. Your arms were wrapped around her neck and your legs were wrapped around her body. She was moving slowly, unhurriedly. Kara made you feel every inch of her strap as her teeth nibbled gently onto your earlobe. Your fingers dug into the muscles of her back and you were so grateful that she couldn’t feel your harsh grip.

“What’s the last force, y/n?”

Kara whispered the question into your ear, chuckling when you shivered. She lifted you up again, the tip of the strap just staying inside, before she lowered you back onto it slowly. Even with a pace this deliberate, the noises coming from your center were obscene. Wet noises filled the space between you and Kara as your arousal dripped down the strap and smudged against your shared skin. You were way too turned on and the fact that you were able to even answer Kara’s questions was impressive. You blinked hard, forcing yourself to concentrate.

“It’s hydrogen bonding,” you hissed between clenched teeth as Kara rolled her hips into you again.

“And why are they the strongest?” Kara asked, proud of you.

“It’s the attraction of lone pair electrons to a positively charged H proton.”

Kara smiled as she carried you to the nearest wall and rested you against it. The added pressure against your back served to press the toy against your sweet spot, stimulating it heavily. You cursed as you body temperature rose higher, your muscles clamping the toy tighter.

“Baby can you give me an example of hydrogen bonding?” Kara asked as she placed open mouthed kisses against your neck. You groaned again. Your body was literally on fire and Kara was the only person who could put it out. Her fingers snaked in between your joined bodies to rub your clit and your mouth fell open again in ecstasy.

“Water!”

“Excellent.”

And then Kara fucked you relentlessly, her hips moving at a blazing pace as the toy plunged deeply into you. The same hand Kara used to rub your clit, she then used it to turn your face towards hers. You could smell your arousal on her fingers and it turned you on more. Her lips crashed into yours, a blazing and passionate kiss that stole your breath away. Kara swallowed the breathless moan that escaped your lips.

“Baby, you are so smart. You are worthy. You are beautiful. You are the love of my life and I don’t ever want you to think that it will ever be different.”

Tears sprang into your eyes as you gazed deep into Kara’s loving ones. She smiled as she continued to rail you. You could feel the pleasure mounting inside of you, causing your stomach to clench and your thighs to shake. Kara could feel it too and took the opportunity to angle herself again to hit your g spot. You came with a gasp, your body shaking, your lungs freezing, and all the blood in your body rushing to your face.

“That’s right baby girl,” Kara cooed softly into your ear. By the time you could finally breathe again, you were completely spent, and Kara gingerly carried you to the bedroom where she laid you down and cuddled into you after cleaning up.

“I love you so much Y/n. You’re going to ace that test.”

And she was right.

[honeymoonjin]

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 yoongi x reader || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 24k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut, fluff, angst

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 it may be misfortune that brings you to min yoongi’s door looking for a place to stay, but luckily holly lodge has a vacancy.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 explicit sexual content, cursing, unintentional voyeurism, non-explicit mxm (taejin side pairing), protected sex, kinda-sub!yoongi, oral (m receiving), fingering, yoongi lowkey being a pillow princess, smut with a whole lot of feelings, body worship (m receiving), praise (m receiving), this was more vanilla than expected, cowgirl/riding, hand-holding during sex, this isn’t jerk-off material it’s slow burn softness so be warned

many thanks to @jamaisjoons for the gorgeous banner

--

A distant crunch of gravel is the only warning you get. You look around absentmindedly, down the steep slope of the hilly fields, and see a bus pulling away down the windy path that had brought you here several hours ago.

"Oh, fuck-!" You make it less than a third of the way down, half-stumbling, half-running, before you give up, realising it's no use. "Oh, fuck," you repeat with a sullen sigh, sinking down to the dirt path.

What was meant to be a day-trip to the renowned Boseong Green Tea fields was apparently going to be longer than a day.

The sky was steadily growing darker, and through the vibrant hedgerows of green tea plants that lined the hillside, a fog was starting to collect. Consulting your phone tells you it's later than you thought.

You stand up again, brushing the dust off the back of your jeans, and slowly plod your way back up to the peak of the hill, where a flat area with some benches provides a decent lookout. The several small cafes and restaurants at the base of the fields have no lights on, and a metal grille has been slid down over the windows of the ticket booth. It's deserted.

Your roaming data works up here, although it's a little more patchy than you'd grown used to around the rest of the country, and you use the last of your dying battery to google some places to stay. With any luck, you'd be able to phone in to a hostel or motel and book in a place. You just hoped the walk wasn't too far in the dark. But as the sun slips lower and lower in the sky, and you call a seventeenth number, you begin to lose hope.

"Even just for one night?" you barter nervously, biting on your nail as the older lady on the other end sighs.

"I'm sorry, dear, we're all booked out. You should've called in advance. Spring is a busy time of year."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I wasn't even meant to stay. I missed the bus back."

"Are you at the Boseong-gun bus terminal? I'm sure there are other busses coming in no time."

"I'm still at the tea fields," you admit, "it was a bus from out of town. Please, I'll walk down to the main street myself, I just don't want to stay outside all ni-"

"Wait- At the plantation? Have you tried Holly Lodge yet?"

You frown. "No. I didn't see that name come up when I searched online for accommodation."

A laugh rings out, though you sense it's not directed at you. "No, dear, Min wouldn't have put it online. But it's far closer to the fields, and I would venture a guess that it's the one place in Boseong that won't have been flooded with guests."

You feel yourself inflate with hope. "Do you have the phone number? Thank you so much!"

"I don't think the owner even has a phone. If he does, I certainly don't know the number. But- Where on the plantation are you right now? Can you get to the top?"

"I'm at the top," you answer reflexively, "but are you sure there's room there? I'd hate to show up unannounced."

The lady on the phone laughs again, slightly condescending. You get the vibe she's not the biggest fan of 'Min'. "He won't have any customers. It's just a small bed-and-breakfast, but he's so far away from the town centre, and he makes no effort to advertise. It's a wonder he's still open, to be quite frank. Anyways, if you're at the top, turn around away from the entrance."

You bite your lip uncertainly but do as she says. You haven’t looked back this way, but you see now that there’s a winding path down the other side, a skinny trail of flattened grass leading into the distance. “Do I go down the other side of the hill?”

“Away from the main fields, yes,” the motel owner replies in a slightly impatient voice. You imagine she can’t appreciate the late-night call for such a busy time of year. “Down at the bottom, there’s a patch of trees.”

Feeling your toes beginning to go numb in your shoes from the cool, damp fog rising, you begin to pick your way down. “I see them.”

“Just beyond them is Holly Lodge. It’s not far. Why he chose to open a bed-and-breakfast behind Boseong Fields is beyond me. I imagine he couldn’t afford anywhere else. I’m sorry dear, the place is probably poor quality, but I’m sure it’ll do for a night.”

Stumbling down the hill in the dark, picking up momentum as you go, you squint into the small thicket of trees in the valley. Perhaps it’s desperation making you see things, but you swear there’s the slightest glow coming from between them. “Thank you so much for your help!”

“It’s fine,” the older lady assures you, “and if you happen to stay longer, I’d be more than happy to reserve you a room for tomorrow night so that you don’t have to stay at that place any longer than necessary.”

You scrunch up your eyebrows. How bad was this place? “I appreciate the offer, but is it okay if I call you back in the morning? I might be able to get tomorrow’s bus back.”

“Alrighty, dear. Best of luck to you. Bye now.”

You pull your phone back and swear lowly when you see your battery life on its last legs. You have a charger in your backpack (along with some water and snacks, something you’re relieved you packed last-minute before coming) but it’s no use unless the Holly Lodge has a place to plug it in, and at this point, as you make it to the foot of the hill and start winding your way through the trees, you’re not expecting anything.

What you do know is that you were right; the light you saw peeking through the trees is growing steadily closer, warm and flickering. It’s unsteady underfoot, but you doggedly push ahead, the glow being the only thing lighting up the landscape. The sky is a deep black, slightly murky with cloud, and you very nearly crash into a few trunks on your way, but after a little over ten minutes, you break into a grassy clearing and sigh in relief.

In front of you lies a modest house, barely more than a cottage, attached to civilisation by a gravel road that pulls away at a 90-degree angle from where you came from, running adjacent to the side of the hill. At its foot, a little wooden sign with white paint reads, ‘HOLLY LODGE, visitors welcome.’ It seems that you’ve entered through the backyard - if that’s what you could even call it. The side of the house is covered in an expansive trellis, lined with vibrant pink azaleas. They’re lit up from below by a tiny campfire, casting a tall shadow on them of a person sitting-

Your eyes fly wide and a stranged sound comes out of your throat. There’s a man crouched over the fire, frozen, a wooden skewer still hovering over the flames that lick at it. He’s wrapped a tartan blanket around himself, bunched up under his chin, and the light of the flames cast an orange glow over his clear skin and brown hair, which hangs low over his brow in soft curls.

You blink. He doesn’t move. “Your meat’s burning,” you point out.

That shocks him back into action, and he whips it back out of the fire, but the damage is done. The entire underside of what looks like lamb is completely charred. “Fuck,” he growls bitterly, “thanks a lot.”

Your eyebrows lift in surprise. Perhaps the lady on the phone was right, and this place really wasn’t ideal. “Excuse me, I just… Do you have any rooms available?”

His mouth dangles open, lips just plump enough for it to be a pout, and you wait as his catlike eyes look over you, glancing back through the trees where you came. “...you want to stay?” he asks finally, the sour edge gone from his voice.

You point at the sign out front awkwardly. “This is a bed-and-breakfast, right?”

He stares for a few moments more, then jumps up off the ground suddenly, letting go of the blanket. It tumbles to the grass around him, revealing a matching set of white-and-grey striped pyjamas. He bounds over to you, hopping barefoot in the grass, and comes to a stop in front of you, eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why didn’t you go to any of the other motels? You- you came from the fields instead of from the road.”

You bite your lip nervously. If he turns you away, you’re fucked. The moon is high in the sky, a waxy blot lighting up a patch of clouds, and you know that sky will be your roof tonight if he doesn’t let you in. “Yeah, I missed my bus back home and since it’s spring, there’s no space. Do you have a room?”

He twitches his nose and lifts a hand up, fiddling with his ear. “The power went out,” he admits, “so you can’t have a hot shower or anything.”

Your chest inflates with hope. “That’s okay,” you reassure quickly, waving your hands at him, “I just want a bed for the night, I’ll pay anything.”

He scrunches up his face at this. “I can’t charge you; it’s past midnight. You’re barely getting a proper night, and like I said, the facilities aren’t really working. Come on, let me show you to your room.”

He leaves the tiny bonfire burning away on its bed of rocks, and grabs a flashlight that was lying on the grass beside his blanket, before scurrying around to the front of the house, gesturing with a blanket-covered paw for you to follow.

You do with a quirk of your lips. This man, who couldn’t be older than his mid-twenties, was stomping about like he was grumpy, yet he looked sweeter than anyone you had met so far. Was this really the same Min that the lady had spoken so lowly of on the phone?

You can’t see much detail inside when the two of you enter. He guides the torch straight down a hallway, not bothering to show you the bathroom or kitchen or anything except a small bedroom with a single bed and a bedside table.

“Here it is,” he states awkwardly, pressing his lips flat into a half-smile. “It’s not much, I’m sorry. If you get into pyjamas, I could handwash your clothes for you.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Oh, wow, you don’t have to do that! Besides, I don’t have any other clothes with me. I’ll just have to sleep in this.”

His eyes go round with concern. “That won’t be very comfortable.” He scratches behind his ear. “You could, uh, I mean, I could give you some comfier clothes to wear?” You can’t bring yourself to say anything, only staring at him dumbfounded. The man loses his composure and laughs awkwardly, shaking his head and staring at the floor. “Sorry, that’s crossing the line, I shouldn’t-”

“I would really appreciate that,” you cut in, “sorry, I just… That’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

A shy smile tugs at his lips, and if the torch was facing him more, perhaps you could recognise his cheeks pinkening slightly. “Oh, I-” he falters and laughs breathily again, gathering himself. “No, I’m not- I-” he tamps down his grin by biting down on his bottom lip, fixing you with a flustered look of gratitude. “I’ll go grab something now. Just wait here. You can have the torch.”

He disappears into shadows, then returns immediately, passing over the blanket. “And this. Just a minute.”

And then Min is gone again. You listen in bemusement at the pitter-patter of his bare feet on the wooden floorboards, fading into nothingness, a few thuds of drawers opening and closing, and then him returning with a bundle of clothes. You school your expression when he gently reaches out to hand over the clothes.

“It’s just a t-shirt and some basketball shorts,” he apologises, “but they’re clean and they’re comfy. I assume you’ll be needing the torch when you get changed? I can shut the door behind you.”

You give him your most grateful smile. “If it’s not too much bother. Thank you so much.” Once he makes it to the door, he begins to swing it shut, but a thought strikes you. “Wait!” He pauses, head sticking out in the crack, the wooden door pushing his cheeks out. You force yourself not to smile at the cute image he provides, but instead clear your throat. “Oh, uh, what’s your name? Min, right?”

His eyebrows lift below his curls in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“Oh, I called a lady on the phone when I was looking for a place to stay; the Boseong’s Best Motel? She said you were in the area.”

His gaze lowers to the floor, and his voice flattens. “Mrs. Na? What else did she say?”

You sense it’s a sore topic. “Just that… that you might have a free room.”

He smiles sadly, like he knows that’s not all, but nods. “Well, Min is my surname.” His face disappears further into the shadows. “My name’s Yoongi.”

--

You sleep well that night.

Better than you have in years, in fact, and with heavy curtains drawn across the one window in the room, the break of dawn doesn’t rouse you like it normally would. Instead, you drift in and out of consciousness all morning, happy to kick off the blankets as it warms up and stretch out.

It’s not until you hear a loud clatter that you’re snapped out of it, and you jump up, eyes flying open and wandering around the room.

The pyjama-clad man from last night, Yoongi, is hunched over the bedside table just beside you, eyes and mouth wide open as he watches you wake up and stretch. You raise your arms high over your head and let out a groan as your muscles ease.

“Goo’morning,” you murmur, hands dropping by your sides again. It’s not until he stays silent, swallowing hard, that you look down at yourself and swear, grasping at the sheets.

The basketball shorts he gave you were so old that the elastic was spent, and they wouldn’t stay on, so you had opted for the simple option of your underwear from earlier, and the baggy off-white t-shirt he gave you. However, that meant that your legs were fully exposed, and two points peaked the fabric on your chest.

“S-sorry,” he stutters, and ducks his head to pick up the cutlery he dropped on the floor. You clutch at the heavy cotton sheets, tucking them under your chin, and wait as he delicately places the cutlery on a fabric napkin that sits beside a plate of steaming eggs on toast, sunny side up, and a small mug of what smells like black tea. “I can get you a new set of cutlery if you want.”

“It’s okay.” You try and send him a grateful smile, but his gaze is fixed on the floor, cheeks bright red.

“I didn’t mean to look,” he confesses in a voice so hushed you almost miss it.

“It’s okay,” you repeat. “Thank you for bringing me breakfast.”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing much. I, uh, I’ll be outside if you need me.” When he leaves, it’s like he’s in a rush, shuffling his feet on the floorboards, knocking his leg on the foot of the bed and his shoulder on the doorjamb in his haste to leave.

After he stumbles out, your stomach growls, and you take that as a sign to enjoy the breakfast he’s so generously prepared you. After quickly opening the curtains and the window, you return to your bed. The eggs are perfectly salted, with a sprinkle of paprika, and you place the plate on your lap, munching away slowly as you look out the window.

The sun’s streaming in, and with the added light you can make out the details on the plate as you clear it. The edges aren’t perfectly round, and by the way the egg yolk pools in one corner, it’s not level either. On the brim, faded teal lettering spells out H O L L Y  L O G D E, with a little cartoon drawing of what looked like a dog’s face. You finish your final mouthful and replace the place with the cup of tea, noting the uneven thickness of the handle and the same careful painting on the side. Did he make these himself? With the state of the property, and it’s apparent lack of success, you can’t imagine he had the means for official branding.

You blow onto the surface of the liquid gently, and take a tentative sip. It’s the perfect temperature to warm you up inside, and while you’re not usually a fan of tea, this one seems to have a unique taste; not quite black tea, not quite green tea, with a sweet tang to it. It’s delicious, and it’s gone quicker than you would’ve liked.

When you emerge into the back garden, still wearing his shirt, but with your jeans back on, you spot him squatting over a brown planter box against the exterior wall. The trellis of climbing azaleas provides a gorgeous backdrop; the vibrant shades of pink petal and green leaf bask in the sun’s warm rays.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, and you take the time to quietly hover just behind the corner, out of sight. With golden heat on your face, lush grass under your feet and birds singing in the trees, you could almost convince yourself you’re in paradise. Min Yoongi, the one person in town who would give you a place to stay, certainly fits within that ideal. You had assumed he’d be in a baggy t-shirt and shorts, if the clothes he gave you were anything to go by, but you’re pleasantly surprised to see him in a thin pastel purple sweater, poking out from a worn pair of overalls.

In the silence of the morning, you can hear what sounds like muttering, and you strain to listen in to his pouty voice as he squats over the planter box, brown curls ruffling slightly in the breeze.

“...probably thinks you’re rude,” you think you hear him say, “or a pervert. The one customer since opening and you scare her away. Silly Min Yoongi. What if she shuts us do-”

You duck back and cough noisily, before rounding the corner, pretending like you weren’t just eavesdropping. “Good morning,” you say to him again brightly, and the young man does a double-take at your attire. You probably should’ve put on a bra underneath the shirt.

“Good morning,” he responds reflexively, “are you, uh, heading off now? Did you enjoy breakfast?” His voice trails off cutely at the end, like he’s unsure he should even ask.

“It was great, you’re so generous. I’m curious, though, what’s the brand of that tea? It’s really good.”

Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his pink lips rounding into a surprised ‘o’. He swallows, and stands up, brushing some stray soil off on the front of his overalls. “You liked the tea?”

You nod hesitatingly. “Uh- yeah. I couldn’t recognise the flavour, though. Is it green tea?”

“Oolong,” he clarifies, mouth quirking in a disbelieving smile. “You really liked it?” You nod again, and his eyes sparkle, a shy smile lifting to reveal his gums. “I made it myself,” he reveals, “here! I’ll show you my tea plants!” The sudden burst of joy dissolves away, and he deflates. “Oh, but you probably need to head off, huh?”

A strange yearning stirs inside you. The feeling that you’d do anything to keep that smile on his face a little longer. “There are actually no busses on a Sunday, so I’m stuck here for another night anyway.” You immediately regret your word choice. He flinches when you say ‘stuck here’ and loses your gaze, frowning at the grass.

Before you can revoke your statement, he’s shrugging gloomily. “I, uh, I know this place isn’t as well run as the others. I’m really sorry, you know, about the electricity. I used the hot coals from the fire last night to make your breakfast, I hope it was warm enough. Like I said yesterday, it’s not fair to charge you for subpar service, so...”

“No, no! That’s not what I meant at all, honestly! It was just a bad choice of words.” He’s not convinced, kicking his foot against the ground and tugging at his earlobe uncertainly. “The whole missing-the-bus thing was a real nightmare, and I’m just glad I found you and Holly Lodge, because it’s been the only thing keeping me from going nuts.”

“Huh?”

Your heart breaks at his sullen face, the way his cheeks puff up slightly when he presses his lips together in a pout. “Really, Yoongi. I’m so grateful to you for even letting me stay here, let alone being as kind as you are. I’m happy to pay for the room, fuck, I’ll pay double. And if you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate being able to stay another night.”

His gaze searches yours, and eventually a soft smile pulls across his lips. “Thank you…” His eyes fly wide open. “I’m so sorry, I never got your name! Oh wow, that’s poor of me, I’m sorry, I-”

“Yoongi,” you interrupt gently. “It’s fine. My name’s Y/n. It’s my fault, I should’ve introduced myself, but I was pretty tired.”

He scratches behind his ear again. “Well, then. I think it makes us about even. Truce?”

You laugh softly. “Truce. And if you’re not too busy, I think I’d like to check out that tea plant of yours.”

He smothers a proud grin, opting for a simple nod, before he’s making his way around the back of the house, where there’s a bit of humid shade. “My grandma was the best at making tea,” he explains, “she knew all about harvesting times and growing conditions, and her secret trick was to add strawberries.”

“So that was that sweet aftertaste.”

He nods eagerly. “Exactly.” The soil here is damp under your bare feet, slightly springy, but Yoongi pays it no mind, waving a hand towards a large hedge that lines the back of his garden. You pause in your tracks. The edges of the leaves are browning, curling up in a way you’re certain isn’t healthy. “This is it?” You hope your voice doesn’t sound disappointed, but you are a little confused.

He pouts. “I know. It’s not very impressive, is it?” He gnaws at his bottom lip for a few moments, running his hand over the dry leaves. “I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. It’s never been like this before, but after my… Now that I’m here by myself, it’s just been getting worse and worse.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “But the tea I had this morning-”

“-was the last cup of my grandma’s final batch, the one we made together. None of the tea I’ve tried to make is any good. I try cutting off the dead parts, but it still tastes funny.”

All this talk of ‘last’ and ‘final’ makes you worry about the wellbeing of his grandmother, but you don’t dare ask, having upset him enough this morning already. “It just looks like it’s not getting enough nutrients. You might need to buy something to improve the soil quality.”

He blinks at you. “You know how to grow tea?”

“No idea,” you admit, “but I do know how to grow a lot of other plants, and I’m sure I could learn.” An idea strikes you, and you flash him a smile. “How about this? In lieu of paying you for the room tonight, I can help you get the tea back to health again. With how good that cup was, it’s practically a public service.”

A tentative smile plays at his lips, but he’s still confused. “What do you mean? Surely you can’t save it by tomorrow?”

Now it’s your turn to fidget nervously, clutching your hands together. “I, uh, I don’t really have anything waiting for me back home. I was planning on staying in Busan or Seoul for a while, but I think maybe I’d… maybe I’d rather stay here. Only if you don’t mind! And of course, I’ll pay for the room-”

A hopeful grin breaks out across his face, unabashed. “No charge! If you really think you could bring back the tea plants, that more than covers the room fee.” At your stupefied look, he clarifies, “this was my grandma’s pride and joy. It really means a lot to me. More than money. Thank you, Y/n.”

—

You discover many things about Min Yoongi on that first day.

That he has a dog, for instance, which he needs to pick up from the vet later that morning.

You also discover that Min Yoongi does not own a car.

“How much longer?” you venture, hoping your tone isn’t too whiny.

“Not long.”

You pout at his back, watching the dogged way he walks the uneven gravel path, slowly descending as it twists through the trees, around the back of the fields and towards the Main Street. “You said that last time.”

He turns his head back quickly, a cheeky grin on his face, and you try to ignore the way your chest leaps at it. “You were the one that wanted to come.”

“I wanna check out the town. If you want to save that tea plant, you’re gonna need some decent fertilizer. Is there a garden center here?”

With his legs slightly bent in those baggy overalls, and his arms swinging by his side with every step, he radiates enthusiasm, but your question causes him to pause. “I...assume so?”

You skip a little to catch up to him. “I mean, we could always just ask one of the other residents. Someone’s bound to know.”

His smile falters. “We could.”

You bite your lip, regretting the weird change in tone. In an attempt to bring his cheery disposition back, you bump his shoulder lightly with his. “So, you have a dog, huh? Your place isn’t exactly fenced. She must be well trained.”

“He,” Yoongi hastily corrects, though the corners of his mouth lift. “Holly’s an old boy, he’s not the type to wander away. He doesn’t even need a leash to take him back home, he���ll just walk along beside me.”

“What’s he at the vet for? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The gravel merges with smooth paver stones as you emerge onto the Main Street. You spot a sign with a cat and a dog silhouette. Yoongi straightens up and begins rushing along faster. “Check-up,” he explains absentmindedly. “He was my grandma’s dog, so you can imagine he’s got some years on him. Prevention is the best medicine and all that.”

The door to the veterinarian jingles overhead, and the young man at the counter glances up from the small grey kitten in his arms with a heart-shaped beam. “Oh! Hi, Yoonie-hyung! Here for Holly?”

Yoongi’s cheeks puff up at the nickname. “He’s all good to go? No issues?”

You eye up the little name badge pinned to his polo shirt. Hoseok. “Same old. The doctor will send the tests off like usual. Just a sec; I’ll go get him from out back.” The boy carefully sets down the kitten into a small plastic kennel on the desk with four others. You can’t help but smile as you watch the baby animals squeak and snuggle up to each other. After washing his hands with some hand sanitizer, the receptionist gets out from behind the desk and disappears through a side door.

You wait for a moment, then decide to fill the silence. “When did you open Holly Lo-”

You’re cut off by the gentle tinkling of the bell above the door. Yoongi glances back quickly, and his whole demeanor changes, shoulders hunching and head ducking down. You frown, and turn around to see an unfamiliar lady approaching.

She’s old enough to be a grandparent, flabby skin on a skinny arm trembling as she carries a cat kennel with a yowling tabby inside. “Oh, Hoseok!” she calls out in a ringing tone, glancing past the two of you. “Chestnut needs his check-up, where are you? Is the doctor free?”

You would raise your brows at her impatience when there are clearly other people in line, but instead you’re just concerned at Yoongi’s reaction. His elbows are up on the higher ledge of the desk, and he’s practically hiding his face behind his forearms.

Subtly, you step out a little bit from the desk, concealing him. Unfortunately, the lady notices the movement and fixes her sour stare on you.

“You aren’t from here,” she states. “And no houses have been sold, so you’re obviously not moving in. What’s a tourist doing in a vet?”

“Um.” You give her a confused stare, a little taken aback by how forward she is. “Pet check-up,” you finish lamely.

Hoping she would leave you alone from there is clearly naive. “Day trip? If you’re staying overnight, I can recommend a good place to park up. I own a hotel and it’s the best wa-”

“I’m good,” you interrupt, “I’ve got a place to stay. But it’s very kind of you to offer.”

She narrows her eyebrows, drawn-on and smudging slightly into her wan foundation. “Wait a minute. Something’s fishy. You were the one calling at an ungodly hour in the evening looking for accommodation, weren’t you?”

You glance at the door that the receptionist disappeared behind, willing him to return. “Yeah.”

“Mrs. Na told me she said you could-” She freezes and stands up straight. Her eyes slide behind you suspiciously. “Min.”

Though you don’t turn around - some instinct in you thinks you shouldn’t turn your back on her - you can imagine what the B&B owner must look like. His voice is so small. “Hi, Mrs. Soh.”

“Finally got a customer, huh?” The room feels to shrink with every word that drips with the seasoned condescension only an elderly person can give.

Yoongi shuffles forward a little on the plastic linoleum floor. “That’s right, Mrs. Soh. Next time you speak to Mrs. Na, please thank her for sending Y/n my way.”

The lady openly rolls her eyes at this, and you have to bite hard on the tip of your tongue to stop from lunging at her. “Mrs. Na wasn’t giving you a hand-out, boy. We aren’t about to help the business that took everything from us.”

Your eyes wide, you stare at the poster on canines and felines pinned to the far wall. “Should we ring the bell? I don’t know what’s taking so long.”

You regret bringing the attention back on you as Mrs. Soh scans your face with an entitled curl of her lip. “And you. I’m surprised you’re actually choosing to stay with Min. His place is a pigsty, isn’t it? Maybe you feel bad for him, girl, but let me tell you: the only good thing about that bed-and-breakfast is how it’s a perfect example of karma. His grandmother monopolises and terrorises the tea markets while she’s alive, and now that she’s kicked it her spawn can’t do anything right.”

You forget all about respecting elders and let out a shocked scoff. “What the fuck is your problem?”

As she splutters, Yoongi’s hand wraps lightly around your elbow, tugging you backwards, but you only spare a quick glance at his sullen face before turning back to the woman across from you.

“First of all, you’re delusional if you think I’m going to stay with any of you after the way I see you treat others. Secondly, how dare you insult someone like that, let alone a dead person? You must be the meanest person in this fucking town. At least, I hope so, because I certainly don’t want to meet anyone nastier than you.”

Like magic, the very moment she opens her mouth, the door bursts open, and out comes Hoseok, a curly tan dog at his feet.

“Holly!” Yoongi cheers with more than a hint of relief, and the dog darts forward, claws scrabbling on the floor as he spins in excited circles. After reuniting with his pet, Yoongi busies himself with the payment, while you try determinately to avoid Mrs. Soh’s gaze. You wouldn’t be surprised if by nightfall everyone in town knew you as the bitchy tourist, but you didn’t even care, too occupied with steaming in your own rage.

The moment Yoongi takes a receipt from Hoseok’s hands, you wrap yours around his and tug him away from the desk, huffing at the cheery jingle of the door that accompanies you upon leaving.

“Woah, Y/n, slow down, Holly can’t run!”

You force yourself to take a steadying breath and return to a normal pace, the older dog happily trotting along on Yoongi’s other side.

He lets the two of you walk in silence for a while, until the sounds of the Main Street fade away, and all that you can hear is the crunch of gravel underfoot, paired with the metallic tinkling of Holly’s collar. You’re still holding onto Yoongi’s hand, but you swear you feel him squeeze slightly every time you loosen to let go, so you let them swing between you.

The ambient noises calm you down enough to feel like talking again. “I didn’t mean to snap,” you apologise. “But I haven’t felt that angry in a long time. What’s her deal?”

Another squeeze, or is that his fingers trembling slightly. “Ah, you get used to it,” he jokes with a smile, though it fades when you throw him a sad look. “No, seriously, I try not to let it bother me anymore. I just… don’t go into town much anymore.”

You nod slowly, watching your feet to make sure you don’t trip over the odd protruding rock or root. You don’t know if it’s wise to broach the topic, but it keeps seeming to come up. “...Your grandma’s tea was really popular, huh?”

He laughs lightly. When you flick him a confused look, he shrugs, jerking your hand with it. “I was wondering how long it would take you. The elephant in the room and all. My grandma lived here, at Holly Lodge, though it was just a house until I inherited it. She made tea, her own strain. It got popular among the locals and, soon enough, tourists were catching on too. They stopped going to the markets. Most of the ladies that own accommodation branch out into selling food and produce. Tea is a popular option, as you could probably guess. They lost their business to her.”

“That’s just life. And besides, that’s a problem they have with her. Why are they being so rude to you? You don’t even sell tea anymore.”

“Because they can? I don’t know. Listen, I’ve explained it, if you want to leave and avoid all this drama that’s fine but I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He drops your hand, and a strange but unpleasant feeling cuts into you.

The slight incline back isn’t so bad, but his breathing is shallow and his gaze is trained on the ground. Your lips droop down in guilt. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” you say softly. “I’m sorry, I probably made the situation worse for you by yelling at her. I shouldn’t have done it.”

He’s silent for a moment. The air darkens slightly, a wash of cloud moving over the sun. “Please don’t say that.” His fingers stretch out towards your hand, then fall back.

You don’t speak the rest of the way back.

--

You try not to stare. You try your best to occupy yourself with the dog at your feet, who gently paws at your hand if you halt your stroking of his thick curls. But as you sit on the floor and listen to the satisfied grunts of Holly, lying on his back in the sun, you can’t help but glance up every few seconds to the man in the kitchen.

It’s strangely domestic, the way he potters around the room, fully focussed on his task. Every measurement of flour, sugar, butter, is perfectly precise and done with care. It’s warm in the kitchen - he told you earlier it’s so the dough will rise when he rests it - and in the sun his skin seems to glow. He’s humming to himself as he kneads; a song you’ve never heard before but one you hope to hear many times again. Although he tied his hair up in a little bean sprout on the top of his head, a few stray wisps have broken free, and his pout deepens every time he has to blow them out of his eyes. The little white apron hooked around his neck and fastened at his slender waist is dusty with stray powder and smeared with runaway globs of dough.

You don’t want to break his concentration, but you feel strange sitting and silently watching him. “Jack of all trades, huh?”

He jumps and turns quickly to you, knocking over a thick paper bag of flour with his elbow, sending white grains flying into the air. His eyes fly wide open and he futilely cups his hands over where the flour is spilling out of the bag, which lays on its side on the bench. With hands full, he pushes it back up to standing, but everything in his hands is dumped onto the benchtop, including the perfectly kneaded round of dough. His shoulders droop.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” you hastily apologise the moment your voice returns to you. Ignoring the dog that whines and paws at you, you stand up and rush over to him, grabbing a tea towel on a hook and dousing it in tap water to begin cleaning up. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright, I’m sorry.”

“It- It’s okay,” he assures haltingly, still awkwardly waving his white-covered hands in the air like he’s not sure what to do with them. You move quickly, cleaning up the majority of the spill for him, the towel coated in a flour-water goop by the time you’re done. When you straighten up, the man in front of you crinkles his nose, like it’s itchy, and sighs, though at his situation rather than you. He wiggles his white-covered fingers. “Thank you,” he says, “trying to grab the flour probably wasn’t the best…”

He trails off as you grab his wrists gently, leading him to the sink where you turn on the tap and run his hands under the steady stream. He waits, obediently turns his palms up for you to squirt a pump of hand soap onto them, and lathers up as you return to the other side of the bench to clean up the rest of the spilt flour.

You hear the water stop, and moments later he’s at your side, picking up the puffy ball of dough with a care that most people would reserve for a small child. Cradling it to his chest so as not to drop it, he uses one hand to delicately brush away the pile of flour on the surface. “It’s alright,” he mumbles softly, and you’re unsure whether he’s speaking to you or the dough, “it’ll be fine. Maybe a little dry, but still good.”

You fold over the top of the bag of flour and let your hands sit heavy on it, still clutching at the paper. “Yoongi.” He swallows hard and looks up when you say his name, absentmindedly patting the dough. “You’re a really kind person, you know that?”

He blinks, setting the dough on a clear patch of the wetly glistening bench. “What do you mean? I’m doing what any host would do. Welcoming my guest.”

You bite your lip, unsatisfied with the response. “Clearly not any host would be kind. I know that after this morning. Besides; it’s more than that. You made me eggs this morning on hot coals-”

“This is a bed-and-breakfast,” he replies weakly, “and that’s just because the power’s out. I’m not sure when it’ll be fixed actually, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I…” You sigh, scanning his face. He really doesn’t get it, you realise. How special he is. “I’m so happy to be here, Yoongi. I’ve never met someone as kind as you. And I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. It’s clear this means a lot to you.”

He ducks his head, moving past you to open a drawer, fiddling around tubes of parchment paper and foil to pull out some plastic wrap. “Thank you, but it’s really nothing. I’m just happy for the company.”

As you lean against the bench and watch him gingerly knead the dough into a rough log shape, before rolling it up in the plastic wrap, you realise just how true that must be. A thought strikes you, shatters that solemn line of thought. “Wait… If the power’s out, how are you gonna bake the bread?”

“Oh!” He glances up, seemingly relieved at the change in topic. “Well, I thought I’d make some and save it until I can get the repair guy out here. I have an icebox around the back of the house that I’m using as a temporary freezer. Then, when we get power again…” He lifts up the dough with an odd quirk to his lips, like he’s cracking a secret joke only the two of you know. “Celebratory bread.”

Uncontrollably, a beam breaks across your face. “Sure, Min Yoongi. Celebratory bread.”

--

The two of you share a bonfire that night. You suspect it’s the first time, at least for a while, that he’s had company. Human company, at least.

“Come on, boy, not too close,” he warns Holly, whose nose continues to dip out towards the flames even as his owner gently pats his rump. The light casts Yoongi’s face in a deep orange warmth; you didn’t pick up on it last night, but his eyes practically glitter with the reflection of it. His hair is no longer up in a hair tie so the thick mop of curls - only somewhat looser than Holly’s, though a rich brown instead of the caramel of the dog - hang low on his brow, lopsided and dishevelled from changing into pyjamas.

The two of you had stuck to yourselves, for the most part, that afternoon. You’d taken advantage of an old bicycle he had dug out of his tool shed to go back down to the main town, spending hours at a cafe, shamelessly torrenting their wifi to research more about tea plants and how to grow (or, more importantly, revive) them. After the waitresses got a little too antsy with your continued presence, and once you felt confident in your task, you got directions to a hardware store and bought some decent soil. An employee there - a respectable albeit slightly clumsy young man who seemed like the epitome of customer service - offered to deliver the heavy plastic sacks for you, and so you returned home satisfied with a day well-spent.

It was another rustic barbecue for dinner. After disappearing into his room to change into a matching pair of baby pink cotton pyjamas, the bed-and-breakfast owner quickly set up a fire on the bed of blackened rocks and charcoal in his backyard. With a practised ease he raised the flame into a blaze, and every time he leant forward to cook some more meat, you watched with a strange fixation as beads of sweat collected at his temples, sticking down strands of hair and warming his cheeks to a rosy glow.

“Do they fit a bit better?”

His sudden question reaches your ears with a delay, and by the time your eyes focus again, he’s watching you curiously. “Fit a bit…? Oh! The clothes. Yes, thank you so much.”

With the clothes you came in currently drying on a rack in your spare room, Yoongi had lent you another raggedy shirt and a pair of plain blue boxer shorts. With how little fabric there was, you suspected they were underwear rather than proper pants, but as long as they stayed up you were happy.

His eyes dart to the side and his lip quirks. “I feel a little overdressed,” he admits, “giving you old clothes while I have proper pyjamas.”

“No, you look cute,” you protest automatically, before sputtering in embarrassment. “I- I meant, it’s fine, I don’t mind you wearing…” You trail off, coughing awkwardly.

With his cheeks so red from the fire, the only way you can tell he’s flustered is the flash of his gums as he smiles, ducking his head. “Ah,” he deflects softly, “you’re just messing with me, I’m not cute.” He doesn’t make eye contact with you for a moment, quietly cutting off strips of beef onto two plates. When he speaks again, you almost miss it over the crackle of flame, and you get the feeling he never intends for you to hear. “Not as cute as you,” he murmurs, and your heart short circuits.

In an effort to pretend like you didn’t overhear, you reach for one of the plates, scooting closer on the grass in order to reach it. The two of you eat in comfortable silence, enjoying the warming effect of the beef settling in your stomachs. He clearly has more of an appetite than you, and keeps munching away long after you’ve pushed your plate away. The grass is warm and dry from the heat of the fire, and so you lie back on it, letting your gaze reach the heavens.

“It’s so peaceful out here,” you muse, “at first I thought it was silly to have accommodation so far from the rest of the town, but I get it now. I don’t ever want to leave.” You attempt to lilt your voice, as if it’s a joke, but it falls flat. You don’t think you’ve ever been so genuine about something in a long time, and that scares you. You’ve only been here a day.

You hear wet noises, and lift your head off the grass to look over at your companion, who’s hurriedly chewing on an over-full mouthful of meat, blowing out his cheeks. You grin at the sight, propping yourself up on your elbows as you wait, and he does his best to flick you a chastising glare as he finally swallows. “Well,” he makes out with an empty mouth, “you know Holly Lodge is always happy to have you as long as you wish to stay. If you really do want to stay.”

Having said his piece, he promptly fills his mouth again with a thick slab that probably should’ve been cut in half first. You grin at the way his eyes widen unconsciously as he chows down, reflecting the hypnotic orange flicker in front of him. “Yeah,” you say gently, “I really do.”

--

It’s odd how days become weeks without you noticing. The days get so hot and humid that an evening fire, which had begun to feel routine, is no longer possible. After tilling the soil around the tea plant and doing some serious work on it, the leaves fatten up and return to their former glory. Yoongi’s face softens every time he walks past you working in the garden. You don’t know which thing he’s more happy to see between you and the thriving shrubbery.

Time passes as if in a dream, the bed-and-breakfast feeling like a slice of paradise separate from reality. The electrician comes, an eager yet very methodical apprentice by his side, and with the return of the electricity comes the celebratory bread, enjoyed with a strawberry jam of Yoongi’s own making. You spend your days in the garden and your evenings with Yoongi, sharing solace in each other’s company as you watch old movies or play convoluted card games. For someone that’s normally always on the go, you feel yourself settling in to this world.

Yoongi’s curls slacken as his hair grows, becoming shaggy over time, and one late Friday night he sets up a wooden stool in the bathroom and asks you to trim it. One lopsided cut later, things like these become normal for the two of you. He acclimatizes quickly to your presence, and you feel yourself changing too, melding your lifestyle into his. Even though you purchase some well-fitting shorts (as well as more underwear and feminine supplies), on the third day a pile of shirts was left on your bed and you’d been wearing them ever since. Eventually they begin to feel less like his shirts you’re just borrowing and more like your own, and you’re not sure how to feel about the niggling bud of disappointment in your chest when each one of them comes back from the wash smelling like your perfume instead of the sweetly floral scent you had begun to associate with him.

The domesticity of your situation doesn’t hit you until a Wednesday afternoon, when the sun melts the air around you into a wobbly haze, and you finally make it back home from a trip into town to grab some emergency groceries. Yoongi got weekly deliveries for the most part, but he had tried (and failed) to make some homemade ice cream the day before and the two of you were in urgent need of some milk. With a relatively mild morning, you felt safe to go on foot rather than bike, but the heat set in quickly and your feet are burning by the time you slam open the front door and step into the cool of the house.

“Yoongi,” you call out automatically, “I’m home.” The word slips out so naturally, that you think it can’t have been the first time you’d referred to the small cottage as home.

A happy gasp echoes down the hallway. “Y/n,” Yoongi cheers from a distance, “we have butterflies and bees out here, come see!”

A contented smile spreads across your face at the sound of his voice, and you slip your shoes and socks off, going through the lounge and out the back door of the house. Your heart billows in your chest every time you see him, but the delighted beam on his face makes you feel lighter than air.

Too hot for even the lightest of sweaters, Yoongi has taken to various short-sleeved shirts and button-downs. Today he’s in cream fabric shorts and a peachy satin shirt, feet bare like yours as he stares up the side of the exterior wall in wonder. Though you hate to look away from him, the way the sun casts his normally dark curls into a bronze halo, you make your way out into the garden, grass cushioning your sore feet as you turn to see what’s brought out this wonder in him.

Amongst a background of vibrant pink azaleas, you can spot fluttering movement where several monarch butterflies bask in the warm rays. Throughout the garden, honeybees aimlessly zip around, a gentle buzzing in your ears. “They’re beautiful,” you muse, “I guess the hot weather brought them out.”

The man across from you stays silent. You ponder the wildlife one more time before returning your gaze to him. Gone is the awe-filled gleam in his eyes. They’re turned down at the edges now, staring lower than your face. “You’re sunburnt,” he remarks with a frown, before raising his eyebrows in a more urgent expression of worry. “Quick; get inside!”

You apparently don’t move fast enough. The young man shoots forward, fingers slipping between yours and tugging you by the hand. You let him drag you inside, back into the slightly dim and blessedly cool house. “It’s okay, Yoongi,” you protest half-heartedly, but he doesn’t pay you any mind, squeezing tightly on your hand as he winds his way down the short hallway and into his bedroom.

Letting go of you to press at your shoulders and urge you to sit on the edge of his bed, Yoongi disappears back out into the hallway, only to return moments later with a bottle of green-ish clear gel. You eye it suspiciously, but he remains serious. “Aloe vera,” he explains, “it’ll help with the pain.”

“It doesn’t even hurt that bad,” you protest weakly, though even as you shrug, the drag of the fabric against the raw skin causes you to wince. Yoongi rushes forward, sitting on the bed beside you. You hiss when he gently pushes up the short sleeves of the baggy shirt, exposing the line where your usual skin tone becomes harshly reddened.

“This’ll help,” he repeats softly, and begins to rub the cool gel onto your skin. You sit in silence, watching him out of the corner of his eye as the bridge of his nose crinkles in concentration. “You should really be more careful,” he scolds, though there’s no bite to his tone. “Please don’t ever leave the house without sunscreen on days like this.”

“Okay, mom,” you joke gently, though he doesn’t laugh. “Really, Yoongi, it’s no big deal. You don’t have to make a fuss.”

His hands leave you. You look up after a moment, wondering why he’s gone so silent. His face is downtrodden, staring haplessly at the gel still smeared across his fingers. “I’m just trying to take care of you,” he mutters.

Your heart breaks at the hurt in his tone, but quickly a laugh jumps out. He glances up at you reproachfully, but you just grin and point to his head. “There’s a petal in your hair, at the back,” you explain, “it must’ve been there since you were outside.”

“Oh.” He begins patting down the back of his head, but somehow he misses the bright pink petal entirely.

You reach forward, and he goes stock still as you tentatively card a few fingers through his hair, lifting the azalea out of his messy curls. “Here,” you announce, handing it over to him, “you should keep it.” He curls his fingers around it, staring at it with an unreadable expression. “It could be good luck.”

When you leave his room, after thanking him for the aloe vera (refreshingly cool on your tender skin, you have to admit it helped), he stays on the bed, eyes glued to the petal in his palm. He doesn’t come back out until dinnertime.

--

The first day Min Yoongi gets real customers is a few weeks later, late on a Saturday morning. The two young men are a strange echo of you two months ago; turned away from every other hostel and motel in the town center, they find themselves at the doorstep of Holly Lodge, desperate for a place to stay.

However this time instead of lack of vacancy, the problem for them was a lack of tolerance. With hands firmly intertwined, they proudly announce they’re ‘pre-honeymooning’; a concept you had never heard before but it seems to be an excuse to take a vacation more than anything.

While the two of them fuss over the cuteness of the little cottage, Yoongi pulls you aside. “I can turn them away if you need,” he offers. “I only have one spare room and you’re using it.”

You furrow your brow in shock. “What? Yoongi, I’m not even paying for that room! You need to put your business before me. Besides, I could always sleep on the couch.”

He’s not happy with your answer, flicking a worried gaze over to the couple, who have made themselves at home on the old couch, heads ducked together as they whisper back and forth. “I mean… I suppose,” he gives in, tugging at his earlobe nervously. “But you don’t need to sleep on the couch. You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he seems antsy to get back to the visitors, so you let it drop. As Yoongi sits down in an armchair across from them, you slip into the kitchen to begin brewing some tea, the first from the revived tea plant.

“So, the two of you are happy to stay?” Yoongi questions shyly. As the three of them begin to discuss prices and facilities, you quietly observe them. You watch the couple, the way the younger, with hair dyed a vibrant blue, leans in to the side of the older, who wraps an arm around his shoulders and holds him close. The brunette, introduced to you earlier as Seokjin, mindlessly plays with the fringing on his fiance’s jacket, as the fiance, Taehyung, looks up at him with adoration in his eyes. It twists something deep inside you, to see them so...intimate, and soon enough you can’t bear to look at them, instead flicking your gaze over to Yoongi.

Yoongi. It is an odd feeling, seeing him return to his shy, easily-flustered self. In recent weeks he seemed to have grown comfortable with you, but this brings back memories of your first few days at Holly Lodge. As the kettle bubbles away, you watch Yoongi’s cheeks lift in a flattered smile as Seokjin points out a framed photograph on the wall, one Yoongi had mentioned some time ago he took. Back then, back when you stumbled in on his garden desperate for shelter, you were too hung up on your own misfortune to really notice him, but now it’s clear to you just how much this place means to him.

There’s a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, Taehyung waving a hand towards the garden. Instead of following the gesture, Yoongi’s eyes dart over and are met by yours. His eyebrows lift when he catches you staring, but he looks back at the couple, mouthing something you can’t hear over the whistle of the kettle.

You clear your throat, shaking away the weird lingering emotion in your chest, and quickly pour four cups of tea. Upon your return, you notice there’s nowhere for you to sit. The young couple are taking up the couch, and Yoongi occupies the only armchair. You pass out the three cups and hover for a moment. Do you even need to be here? You’re technically just another guest, and this conversation doesn’t really involve you. But then again, the spare room isn’t your room anymore, and you’d feel weird going into Yoongi’s bedroom without him.

Yoongi, sensing your hesitance, pats the arm of the chair and squishes himself into the opposite corner. You suppress a grin; an easier solution would’ve just been sitting on the floor, but it’s too late to say no to him now. You perch awkwardly on the cushioned arm, having to lean into Yoongi’s shoulder slightly to keep your balance.

He takes a sip from the steaming mug, and gasps softly, glancing up at you. “Boseong Breakfast?” he questions in wonder, and you give him a short nod. “This tastes just like... “ The space between his brows crinkles slightly, but he forces himself to brighten his expression again, turning back to the men on the couch. “Y/n grew the tea herself in our garden outside. I hope you like it!”

Your eyes prickle, and you bite down hard on your tongue, staring into the murky depths of the tea in your hands. Our garden.

Taehyung’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of you curiously, pausing for a moment. “You guys make a cute couple,” he states finally.

Your eyes fly wide open, automatically turning to Yoongi, expecting him to speak up and explain, but it seems Yoongi was waiting for you to be the one protesting too. The two of you stare at each other for a moment. “Uh, we’re not a couple,” you remark, addressing Taehyung directly. Out of the corner of your eye, Yoongi nods in affirmation. “I’m actually just a guest, I’m just helping out around the garden while I’m here.”

Taehyung doesn’t reply, simply raising an eyebrow. Seokjin, still with an arm around his partner, swallows a sip of tea and drums his fingers against the homemade ceramic mug. “We’re looking to stay for a while; a few weeks, possibly a month. Would you be able to house us for that long? We understand if you’ve got prior bookings to fulfil.”

Yoongi leans in to you slightly, his elbow nudging your thigh. “I better check my calendar first,” he quips with a gummy grin. You let out a laugh at the joke, but the other two don’t join in, just staring at you and Yoongi in slight confusion like they’re trying to work something out.

You realise how it must look, you practically perching on Yoongi’s lap, and quickly stand up, taking a seat on the carpet in front of the coffee table instead. “Anyways,” you begin, “I usually do a load of washing every day, so if you want I’m happy to do it for you. Now that it’s ready, I have more tea than I know what to do with, so help yourself to that, too. If you need anything, just let Yoongi or me know.”

“Breakfast is at 9,” Yoongi helpfully supplies from the armchair. “I usually make lunch and dinner if you’re around. Thank you for choosing to stay at Holly Lodge. I hope you have an enjoyable time here.”

The two share a meaningful look, noses almost brushing at their proximity.  The elder breaks away to take another slow sip from his mug of tea. “I’m absolutely positive we will,” Seokjin replies with a beam.

--

It doesn’t feel right. His bed is comfortable, sure, but you’re all too aware of the man over the edge, curled up in blankets on the floor. “Are you sure you don’t wanna come up?” you offer unsurely. “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“It’s fine.” His voice comes to you slightly muted by distance. “Holly is keeping me company down here.”

You frown, unsatisfied. You roll over so that you’re facing him. “The sheets are super itchy, maybe I should’ve washed them first.”

He lets out a tired chuckle, resonating in his throat. “That’s just the sheets. They’re cheap.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, “the sheets on the other bed seemed fine.”

He shuffles a bit, sitting up. “The other sheets are Egyptian cotton, that’s why.”

You raise your eyes. “Why are you suffering in these then?”

He’s silent for a moment, mouth flat. “Sheets are expensive.”

Your heart breaks for him. Spending all his money into the perfect guest experience, when he hadn’t even had any guests until you showed up. “I’ll buy you fancy sheets for your birthday, then.”

He scoffs softly, fisting his hands in Holly’s tan curls absentmindedly. “My birthday isn’t until next year. March.”

You shrug. “And?”

He fixes you with a baleful expression. “You’ll be long gone by then.”

In the dim lighting of the evening, you can barely make out a gleam in his eyes. A sudden exhaustion takes over you, and you can’t bear to look at his dejected form anymore. You close your eyes, making yourself as comfortable as you can under the covers. The pillowcase smells like him. “Will I?”

He doesn’t respond.

“Yoongi?” you ask into the night, voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Mhm?”

“I don’t want you to sleep on the floor,” you admit. “Can you come up here?”

A pause. “With you?”

You can’t analyse his emotion with the careful way he speaks. You crack your eyes open again, staring down at him, at the way he hunches over uncertainly, cradling the sleeping dog in his lap. “I’ll stay on my side, I promise.”

His nose twitches. He tugs nervously at his earlobe. “You’re on my side,” he remarks. Your eyes widen and you begin to shuffle back. “No, no! You can stay. You can have that side.”

You scoot back over, continuing to face over the edge as he stands up, gently setting Holly down on the blankets, and comes around to hop in beside you. Though it’s summer, the cottage is always cool, and you shiver at the rush of air when he lifts the blankets. “Cold?” he questions in a murmur.

You nod, not trusting your voice.

“Here.” A weight falls over you, and you open your eyes to a dishevelled and tired Min Yoongi, folding the duvet in half so that it lays over you twofold. You go to protest, knowing he’ll be even colder than you now, but you can’t ruin the satisfied smile that plays at his lips as he pats it down, tucking the sides so that you’re snug.

Once he’s done, he disappears from your sight as he shuffles down under the bare sheets on the other side, humming happily. You let your eyes fall closed again, and breath in deeply. “Night, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

You snuggle your face further into the pillow. “Sweet dreams.”

--

“How did you two meet?” You glance up from the bed of herbs you’re tending to, squinting in the sun.

Taehyung, who’s taken to lounging in the sun outside as you work, sprawls his legs out on the warm grass. With his head tipped back to receive the rays, he sighs out happily. “Senior year,” he divulges, “we were both auditioning for Romeo in the school play, but Jin got the part instead of me. We were kinda rivals at that time, I guess. But one of my friends convinced me to audition for Juliet as revenge, and somehow I got in. We started spending more time together, and…” He shrugs. “The rest is history.”

“That’s cute.” A bird chirps in the trees, like it’s sounding out its agreement. You return to gently pressing seeds into the lush soil. “I wish I could have a meet-cute like that.”

He laughs, rich and warm. “Looks to me like you’re already in one.”

You avoid the temptation to look over to the cottage, where you know Yoongi is, inside making lunch with Seokjin (who turns out to be a brilliant cook). “No,” you deflect weakly. You can’t seem to find anything else to say, and so you clear the thought from your head entirely. “Anyway. When are you guys getting married?”

He huffs at the way you change the topic, but is only too happy to indulge. “Next year sometime. We’re in no rush. Love isn’t on a schedule, you know?”

You hate the way your mind slips to how you and Yoongi have been quietly enjoying each other’s company for the past two months or so. That’s not the same, you reason. Yoongi is just a kind person, that’s all. Anyone would grow fond of him. “I bet it’ll be a beautiful wedding,” you offer, “you two seem so in love. Besides, you’re both the hottest dudes I’ve seen in my life so I’m sure the wedding photos will be fantastic.”

He laughs boisterously, mouth widening and eyes crinkling, and it draws the attention of the two men in the kitchen, the taller of which gives a jaunty wave to his fiancé. Through the open window, you can see as Seokjin then turns around, makes a comment that causes Yoongi to flush, and claps him on the shoulder. Yoongi looks up towards the two of you, but his eyes narrow and he puts his back to you, returning to the food.

Your cheery disposition vanishes, and the air darkens as the sun dips below cloud. “I’m gonna head into town later, there’s a twilight market I want to check out. The two of you are welcome to come with.” 

Frowning at the sudden shade interrupting his tanning, Taehyung gets up, wiping the grass stands off his shorts. “Yeah, why not?”

—

“Honestly, you don’t have to, I don’t mind cooking!”

Yoongi’s protests go unheard. The engaged couple, who had earlier gone off on their own tangent at the street market, were determined to use some of the fresh produce they picked up to prepare a meal.

“Come on,” Seokjin pushes, “let us treat you! You’ve been so hospitable to us. Y/n said she worked in the garden as a thank you, so we can cook you a nice meal.”

The owner ducks his hand, delicately resting it in his hands, splayed fingers barely covering the happy grin. “You’re too sweet, really,” he gushes. “That would be really lovely.” Upon Seokjin’s insistence, the four of you had cracked open some soju, and it seemed the half-bottle Yoongi had consumed already was getting to him, cheeks shiny and pink. You can’t help but smile fondly at the sight of him getting all shy at the slightest display of kindness.

“What do you say, Y/n?” Taehyung questions. “Wanna come make him a meal?”

You pull your gaze away from Yoongi. “Huh? Oh, you’d be better off without me. I’m a terrible cook.”

Taehyung’s eyes glimmer in the glare of the low evening sun. “My Seokjinnie can teach you. Come on, it’s guests serving the host tonight.”

You agree reluctantly, and the two men grab one hand each, dragging you into the kitchen. You giggle at their enthusiasm, feeling a little past tipsy yourself. “What’s on the menu, head-chef?”

The brunette purses his lips in a wry smile and reaches into one of the bags, starting to empty out the various ingredients on the bench. “Don’t worry, young grasshopper, it’s very easy. We’ll make some fresh pasta sauce and have spaghetti bolognese.”

In the end, ‘very easy’ seems to be an overstatement. After finishing off another bottle of grapefruit soju you find yourself, clumsy with the warmth of the alcohol in your belly, furiously attempting to dice some onions on a chopping board.

As Taehyung manages the tomatoes reducing in a pan, Seokjin latches onto your flailing limbs, arms wrapping around you to gently clasp your wrists. “Careful, careful,” he chastises, “you’ll chop off a finger. Tuck your fingers under, and here, cut like this.”

You pout as he guides your hands, the knife cleanly slicing through the onion half you had previously been hacking at. “Okay, Mariah Carey. No, wait; what was that old lady chef’s name? Martha Stewart. Okay, Martha Stewart. Not everybody can be an incredible cook, you know?”

Taehyung chuckles under his breath at the other end of the kitchen. “We should not have given her alcohol,” he remarks to his fiance.

With a dawning realisation and a slightly running nose, you realise the cut onion is beginning to sting your eyes. You squeeze them shut, letting Seokjin continue to chop on behalf of your hands, but that only forces the tears out. “Ouch,” you whine hopelessly, leaning your weight back onto Seokjin’s broad chest.

“Oh-!” Seokjin stops chopping, simply holding your wrists in the air as the knife dangles pathetically from your dominant hand. “Tae-bear, can you come help?”

You let out another whine as Seokjin slowly walks backwards, you half-following half-stumbling back. Once there’s enough room between you and the bench, Taehyung slips in. “Oh, darling,” he coos, “that onion was being mean to you, hm? Open your eyes.”

You do so, but keep them in a pained squint. All you can see between a blurred layer of tears is his blue hair, and the patch of colour swirls in your vision. “So mean to me,” you repeat dumbly as warm hands gently wipe under your eyes, clearing away the tears that run down your cheeks.

“Goodness, she’s definitely had too much, how many bottles did you give her?”

You feel Seokjin’s chest rumble against your back as he replies. “Like, two? It’s not even strong stuff.”

You hum happily. “You’re strong stuff,” you say, though you don’t even know who you’re talking to. The sting is finally fading from your eyes, and once Taehyung gently pats the last of the tears away, you let out a tired sigh, going even more limp against Seokjin. “I’m not hungry anymore,” you complain, “don’t want bisghetti.”

Taehyung chuckles. “Okay, I think I’m gonna take you to your bedroom now, missy, you better have a lie-down.” The knife is pried from your fingers and strong arms lift you off of Seokjin, keeping you upright as you potter out of the kitchen with Taehyung.

Behind you, you hear Seokjin sigh. “Sorry, Yoongi,” he apologises, “we wouldn’t have given her so much if we knew she was a lightweight. She’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep. I can finish off the dinn-”

“Yoogi,” you cry, wriggling in Taehyung’s grasp. You hadn’t spoken to him since you started making dinner and that’s been far too long. Taehyung tries to shush you, but you twist around to face the dining table, where Yoongi sits. You go limp when you see him. Staring blankly into the middle distance, he has a strange look on his face, lips and brows frowning in disapproval or annoyance, but eyes soft with concern. Your nose tingles viciously and tears well in your eyes. “‘re you mad a’ me, Yogi bear?”

He looks up at you suddenly, face smoothing out as his eyes widen. “Of course I’m not, Y/n.” He trails off unconvingly at the end. “Just get some sleep, okay?”

You frown, somehow unsatisfied, but nod, letting your cumbersome feet carry you to his bedroom. He sleeps on the couch that night.

--

When you wake up, your memory is fuzzy but it’s clear by the way Yoongi treats you that you must’ve done something wrong.

You don’t understand it, but he seems cold to you, sulking. Over the space of a week, you spend so little time in his company that it feels like he must be actively avoiding you. To compensate the niggling sensation in your heart, you spend more time with the boys.

They cheer you up a lot, never questioning what’s got you so gloomy. Maybe they can already tell. But you waste away your days building up a modest garden in Yoongi’s backyard in the mornings when it’s cooler, and finding stuff to do with Taehyung and Seokjin in the afternoons.

Though you still share a room with Yoongi, the night after you got drunk he chose to sleep on the floor again, and you didn’t have the heart to ask him back up. You’ve been sleeping on his side for so long that his pillow no longer smells like him anymore. You don’t sleep well these days.

You find yourself waking naturally long before he does so that you can tiptoe out of his room and get ready alone. At night, you press your ear to the door and wait to hear his little snuffles and grunts of a deep sleep before you creep in. It seems odd to have any negative feelings towards him, but he just doesn’t seem the same as the man you had grown so used to sharing a house with.

Tonight, he woke up as you were sneaking inside his room, and so the two of you lie in dim silence, both all too aware of the other. Holly is curled up beside him, you can hear the gentle snoring, but Yoongi is completely quiet. You can’t even hear him breathe.

The total lack of sound in Yoongi’s room means that another noise is amplified. You wrinkle your brow at the odd, low pitched rumble, barely audible. You know it’s coming from outside the bedroom, though where exactly you couldn’t say.

Just as you’re about to pass it off as nothing, it sounds out again, louder this time. A moan.

Realisation dawns on you when you hear it again, drawn-out and dripping with pleasure. Taehyung and Seokjin are having sex in the next room over.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you whisper into the dark. “Have they no shame?”

It’s loud enough this time that you can hear the words themselves.

“Ah, Jinnie-hyung.” You screw up your face and huff.

“...they did say ‘pre-honeymooning,’” Yoongi reasons reluctantly.

You sit up, bunching the blankets in your lap as you glare down at the bed and breakfast owner. “So you’re on-” you break off as the undeniable high pitch of a whimper echoes throughout the house. “So you’re on their side? They’re fucking in my bed!”

He frowns at you, though it’s far from intimidating with his ruffled brown curls and sunshine yellow pyjamas. “It’s not your bed, it’s the guest bed.”

You raise an eyebrow. “They’re fucking on your Egyptian cotton sheets.”

A fury you’ve never before seen lights up in his eyes. “My sheets!” The begrudging way he crosses his arms over his chest makes him look like a petulant child, and you snort out a laugh. “Hey,” he cries out in a stage whisper, barely louder than the pleasured moans that seem to be rising to a fevered pitch, “don’t laugh at me! Those sheets were expensive!”

You pause for a moment, trying to stay composed, but then you hear it through the thin walls.

“Fuck, cum in me, hyung!”

You clap a hand over your mouth, barely in time to muffle your desperate laughter.

Through tears, you see Yoongi try to fight the grin that tugs at the corner of his mouth, but soon enough he succumbs, shoulders shaking and eyes squeezed shut as he laughs silently. The two of you endure a minute or so of loud cries of climax, before all goes still.

You lower your hand. You stare at each other for a moment, but after nothing happens, you sigh out in relief. Yoongi goes to plump up his pillow as you fuss with the duvet. “Thank god that’s over,” you proclaim, “now we can finally-”

“Does my Tae-bear still want more, hm? Greedy boy.”

Yoongi’s face drops. He stands up suddenly, thrusting out a hand in front of your face. As quiet whines and sighs reach your ears from the other room, you stare at it blankly. He waves it impatiently. “Come on,” he instructs, “I can’t take this anymore. Let’s get out of here.”

Though you’re uncertain what he means, you reach out and take his hand. It’s warm, and his fingers slip between yours naturally, clasping tightly. Before leading you carefully to the door, Yoongi grabs a blanket off the floor and hands it to you. He opens the door so gingerly that you can hear nothing more than the brush of the wood against the carpet.

The two of you tip-toe down the hallway. Directly outside the guest bedroom, you’re close enough to hear not only Taehyung’s desperate moans, but the pants of exertion from his fiance. Whatever Seokjin was doing to him in there, it was nothing short of athletic.

Holly, having been woken when Yoongi got up, pads down the hallway behind you happily. You wince at the jangle of his collar, but the two loud men don’t seem to notice, or at least don’t care enough to pause.

When the two of you reach the living room, Yoongi drops your hand to fiddle with the key to the back door. He slides it open and you step out in confusion, waiting for him and Holly to come through, Yoongi sliding it shut behind him, locking it and pocketing the key in a tiny breast pocket on his pyjama shirt.

Once the door shuts behind you, you no longer have to remain quiet. “What are we doing?” you question.

Holly follows faithfully as Yoongi makes his way down the backyard barefooted; determined not to be left behind and burning with curiosity, you jog to catch up. You leave the even footing of the grass and begin picking your way through the trees, going in a slight incline up the hill.

“We weren’t gonna get any sleep listening to them going at it like rabbits anyway,” he explains, “so I figured we could chill out here for a few hours and come back inside before it gets too cold. Hopefully they’ll have tired themselves out by then.”

You frown, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Fine then,” you allow, “where are you- oh!” You’re cut off as Yoongi stumbles on a tree root, falling forward onto his hands and knees. He gets up quickly, brushing off the dirt and twigs from his palms. Even in the dim lighting, you can see his cheeks are red with embarrassment, so instead of poking fun, you just move on. “Tomorrow I can go down to the convenience store and buy some earplugs. Unless you want to talk to them about lowering the volume of their nightly activities?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Get the brand that comes with three sizes, I’ve got small ear canals.”

You bark out a surprised laugh. “I’m sure you do, Min Yoongi.” You let the jingle of Holly’s collar fill the air for a few moments, and your companion seems happy enough with the comfortable silence. He seems to be picking out an intentional path, though there is no evidence of a well-tread route he’s taking. It’s not until Yoongi comes to a stop in a small clearing, about a third of the way up the hillside, that you open your mouth again. “What’s this?”

Yoongi sits down in front of you, patting the grass. He waits for you to sit until he begins to explain. You shake out the blanket, laying over your two laps as he speaks. “I would sneak out of the house in the middle of the night all the time when I visited my grandma, pretending to be Indiana Jones or something. I found this glade one day and it became my nightly routine to come here at eleven or twelve pm and watch the stars.” He trails off in a wistful tone, craning his neck to look up.

Naturally, you follow his gaze. Blurred in the edges of your vision are the trees that surround you on the hill, but directly above is an open expanse of blackish navy, pricked with stars. The air is fresh, and you breathe it in deeply, feeling the cool air open your chest. You let your body tip back, lying down on the grass.

Yoongi’s voice comes from above, still sitting up. “One day I came back around two or three in the morning. Instead of being in bed, my grandma was waiting at the door for me. I thought she was mad - she wouldn’t speak to me all day - but that night when I went to leave she came out of her room and handed me a torch.” You can’t help but smile at the way Yoongi speaks, deeply entrenched in his own memories, voice hushed in nostalgic wonder. “Ever since that point, we did this together. She once told me that at night, the sun puts a big blanket over the earth to say it’s time to go to bed, but since it’s so old, it has holes in it. That’s what stars are. Ah, it sounds silly now, but at the time…” His voice changes, flattens. “I haven’t been here since she passed away. I couldn’t go alone.”

Your heart breaks for him. “I’m so sorry, Yoongi.” You don’t know what else to say.

He sighs out heavily, the burden of loss. “Yeah.”

At some point over the next few hours, he lies down beside you, the two of you quietly contemplating the abyss above. Now that you’re looking at it different, it does look like a blanket. Thick blackness with pinpricks of light. You wonder what’s on the other side.

The air cools down. It’s still humid, but instead of warming you, it condenses on your neck in a cloying sweat, and beads on the grass. The tip of your nose is chilled pink, and you keep having to rubbing your hands together to warm them. You don’t want to interrupt this strange solemnity in the air, but once you begin to shiver slightly, you have no choice. “Can we head back now, Yoongi? I’m sure they’ve finished by now.”

“Hm? Yeah, okay.” He sits up and stretches with a groan, sticking out his arms and rolling his wrists. When he goes lax again, he sticks his fingers into the little pocket on his pyjama shirt. “Oh. Oh no.”

You frown, sitting up yourself. “What?”

“Must’ve fallen out when I tripped over,” he mumbles, “shit.”

“What?”

He tugs at his earlobe nervously. “I lost the key.”

“Y- what? So we’re locked out?”

“Well, just until tomorrow. When Taehyung and Seokjin get up, they can let us in. I’ll go down to the locksmith, get a new key made in no time.”

Now that you know you’re stuck here, the cold seems more insidious. You shiver again. “That doesn’t help us now, Yoongi! We’re stuck out here for the night because you wanted to go fucking stargazing.” His hurt look cuts through you like a knife, and you rush out the breath you’re holding, anger dissipating in a moment. “No, I’m sorry, it’s not your fault. I just… we’re gonna freeze out here, Yoongi.”

Guilt worries at his brow, and he tucks his knees up to his chest. “We can do our best to stay warm. The grass is still mostly dry, and there’s no wind or anything. If we huddle together under the blanket we can conserve body heat. It’s just one night.”

You stare at him for a moment, then nod begrudgingly. “Fine then,” you acquiesce. “We cuddle in order to survive tonight, and then never speak of it again.” With a flourish, you lie back down, tugging the blanket over you and turning your back to him.

Instead of a warm body, you’re met with silence. “Um,” Yoongi says finally, “I- Never mind.”

You twist your head around. “You what?”

He rubs at his cheek in embarrassment, though the dark pink blush firmly stays. “I like to be the little spoon.”

After a moment’s pause, you swivel around, holding the blanket up for him. “Come on then, little spoon,” you say softly, “get comfy.”

He offers you the smallest smile of gratitude, a flash of teeth peeking out, and turns, shuffling back until he’s pressed up against your chest. As you lower the blanket over the both of you, your arm naturally slips over his torso, curling over his tummy. The warmth of his body in your arms certainly is a respite from the cold, and clearly he agrees, because he lets out an unconscious grunt of happiness. You remember grinning into the darkness, ready to make a teasing remark, but sleep takes you before you can even open your mouth.

--

You had expected that night would bring Yoongi back to normal. That whatever strange mood had affected him in that week would be dissolved with the night you spent together under the stars. However, the next morning Taehyung and Seokjin convince you to stay at the lodge playing board games with them while Yoongi goes alone to the locksmith for a new key, and when he returns home to you curled up between the two of them, watching some dumb early-2000s rom-com on the TV, it seems his earlier grudge has returned with a vengeance.

There’s a strangely hostile tension in the air that afternoon, and when you and the boys finish up watching movies you pretend to accidentally fall asleep, just so you don’t have to go back to the room.

You begin to favor spending time with the other guests rather than Yoongi. It almost feels like you’re outstaying your welcome, but Taehyung and Seokjin seem enamoured with your company, and so day-in day-out you’re hanging out with them. After a couple weeks, you begin to view them as genuine friends. You get the impression that they hadn’t planned on staying as long as they are. Taehyung’s blue locks are beginning to grow out, hints of natural black peeking out at the roots. Seokjin has the (probably ill-founded) idea of buying bleach and dye at the supermarket, which is why you find yourself in a pair of gloves, lathering bright red hair dye on his scalp after dinner one night.

When Yoongi finished doing the dishes and saw Taehyung mixing the dye, he simply huffed and told him not to get any on the floor, then disappeared into his room. He was going to bed earlier and earlier, you noted, as well as getting up later in the mornings. You couldn’t remember the last time you held a conversation with him.

Now the three of you remaining in the kitchen sit cross legged on the floor, chatting away as the dye sets. Taehyung, with a plastic shower cap covering his hair, bangs his head back against the cabinets. “I wonder what colour I should have for the wedding,” he muses.

Seokjin’s eyes crinkle at the thought. “At the rate you’re dying it, it’ll be straw by the time you walk down that aisle.”

The younger grins, boxy. “You’ll still love me, even with scarecrow hair?”

“Of course,” Seokjin answers without hesitation. “Besides, it would grow back healthy in no time.”

“Would you love me even if I was bald?”

“Let’s not get hasty here,” he jibes, lifting his eyebrows in mock concern. “Don’t worry, Tae-bear. You’re the only man for me.”

The two laugh fondly, then fall into a silence. You know it’s a personal question, but you’ve known them for a while, so you ask anyway. “Have you guys always known? That you were attracted to men, I mean.”

Taehyung smiles, nodding languidly. “Well, both of us are bi so it’s not just men. But for me, yeah. I always knew, and then when I was in college I was a complete Casanova. Boys, girls, everyone in between. Life was a buffet.”

“Oh,” you exclaim curiously, “so you’ve been with men and women then?” He nods again. A thought strikes you. “That’s something I’ve always wondered, actually. Who are better to kiss; guys or girls?”

Taehyung scratches lazily at his scalp through the plastic cap. “Most guys are great kissers, but there’s nothing nicer than women’s lips. Luckily my Seokjinnie has the prettiest lips in the world.”

You look over as Seokjin, sitting across from Taehyung, purses his lips playfully, before shrugging. “I wouldn’t know,” he admits, “Taehyung is my one and only.”

The aforementioned pushes off the cabinet, leaning forward with an unreadable look in his eyes. “Do you want to try?”

Seokjin tilts his head in confusion. “Hm?”

“If I gave you permission and Y/n agreed to it, would you want to kiss her right now?”

“What?” You gape incredulously at Taehyung, but he’s dead serious. Looking back over, Seokjin is silent, nibbling at his lip. He’s considering it. A wave of heat rushes through you, akin to excitement. He’s one of the most attractive men you’d ever seen in your life, and you can’t deny that physical connection is something you’ve been missing in your past few months. “Are you sure, Taehyung?”

He sends you a salacious wink, turning back to Seokjin. “Think of it as a wedding gift,” he bargains, “I don’t want you to marry me feeling like you’re unfulfilled, or that you’re missing out. As long as I’m the one that gets to be beside you every night, I’m happy.”

Seokjin’s eyes soften, then dart over to you. “Y/n…”

That’s invitation enough. You lick your lips, wetting them before crawling over to the older man. He pats his thighs, and you swing a leg over, steadying yourself on his lap. His hands are light on your hips.

“Just like it’s me, Seokjinnie,” Taehyung instructs. “Well, maybe a bit gentler than if it was me. You can kiss her, hyung.”

Though the statement was directed at Taehyung’s fiance, you take the initiative to duck your head down, eyes slipping closed the moment you feel his lips brush yours. He lets out an unsure sigh, muffled against you, and you feel his fingers curl, digging into your flesh slightly.

“That’s it,” Taehyung soothes. You hear the rustling of fabric, and you crack an eye open to see him sidling up beside Seokjin, watching the two of you. “How is she, hyung?”

You work your lips against Seokjin’s for a few more moments before pulling back. The man below you has flushed skin and dilated pupils. He swallows, throat bobbing. “Soft,” he makes out.

You run a finger over his lower lip, watching it bounce back. “For someone who’s never kissed more than one person before, you’re definitely the best kisser I’ve ever had.”

He grins under your touch. “I bet Taehyungie is better.”

There must be something in the air. The hair dye fumes getting to you, perhaps. Or maybe you’re just deprived. Either way, you feel your inhibitions falling away, and an arousal-fueled confidence takes over. You send Taehyung a lustful look. “Only one way to find out.”

The tiniest nod reveals his consent. Seokjin keeps you steady on his lap by gripping your hips with strong hands, and you lean over, placing one hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and the other on Taehyung’s, ducking your head to capture his lips with yours.

They’re somewhat thinner than Seokjin’s, and you find yourself missing those plump lips against you, but the younger man more than makes up for it with his prowess. His hands wind into the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you in deeper. You let out a whimper into his mouth. Unlike Seokjin, whose kiss was pure and curious, this embrace is dripping with passion, and you find yourself drowning in it, mindlessly grinding your hips into the budding hardness below. Seokjin grunts, but you barely hear, lost in Taehyung’s grip, the tip of his tongue swiping teasingly against the flat of yours.

Suddenly, Seokjin goes stock-still and the hands wrapped around your hips go iron-tight. The sudden pressure breaks you out of your haze, and you pull away from Taehyung in confusion, the latter making a confused hum, eyes fluttering open.

You freeze as you hear a cabinet open and close behind you. Unable to look, you stare at the faces of the two men you’re currently sprawled on top of, as they lower their gazes in embarrassment at being caught out. You wait, listening to Yoongi hastily grabbing himself a glass of water, before he leaves quicker than he appeared.

Once the kitchen goes silent again, you slide off Seokjin’s lap, dejectedly staring at the floor. Shame burns in your chest, mixed with regret, and all you want is for the ground to swallow you whole. You swallow down the dryness in your throat. “C-can I sleep in your guys’ room tonight?” you ask with a small voice.

The two of them look ashamed, pitying. You hate it. You hate your lack of self-control. Seokjin nods silently, and the three of you make a solemn pilgrimage into the guest bedroom. Though the two of them fall into slumber soon enough, you lie awake on the floor in a bundle of pillows and blankets, imagining what his face must’ve looked like when he walked in on you messing around with two taken men. You don’t know which one would’ve been worse: seeing a look of anger, disgust, or disappointment on his face, or you never turning around at all.

--

When you wake up the next morning you’ve made up your mind. If you hadn’t already, you’ve definitely overstayed your welcome by this point. The boys don’t stir at all when you quietly tiptoe around their room, tugging on your jeans that you had kicked off the night before, too emotionally drained to bother with pyjamas. They look peaceful and content; there’s a lump in the middle of the bed where Taehyung has swung his leg over Seokjin’s hip, and his face is tucked into the crook of Seokjin’s neck. Their hands have found each other in the night, fingers lazily intertwined as they rest over the covers. Your eyes prickle at the sight.

In the kitchen, you eat alone. On the bench, the one that gets the most sun, is a tea towel with a pile of half-dried tea leaves. You wonder if Yoongi will continue making tea once you’re gone. Part of you wants to sneak out to the plant and take some of the leaves with you; that tea is the best you’ve ever had. But you force yourself to remember that you have no right to that plant. It was easy to see this as more than what it was, especially when Yoongi had been so generous and hospitable, but you’re a guest. At the end of the day, you’re nothing more than a traveler passing through. He’ll forget about you when new guests arrive. That’s how these things were meant to be, you reason. For fear of making too much noise, you forgo the ritualistic cup of Boseong Breakfast. Your stomach roils in yearning of a hot cup to soothe you, or perhaps that’s just the dread at knowing you’re about to leave.

Your stuff is still in Yoongi’s room. Shoes, backpack, wallet. You don’t fancy leaving here with nothing but a cellphone, so you turn the knob painstakingly slowly, leaving it open and using the light of your phone screen to find your way. Though you internally scream at yourself not to, you find yourself guiding the light onto his sleeping form, casting him in the weak cold glow.

He’s curled up in a tiny ball, barely occupying a third of the bed. Instead of on the floor, Holly is right beside him, stretched out languidly in the middle, head resting on the pillow right beside Yoongi’s face. His face reflects strangely, and you frown, risking a few steps closer.

Once you’re beside the edge of the bed, you lower the light to face the floor so you don’t wake him. He’s back on his side of the bed, the one you had temporarily occupied in a time that already felt so long ago to you, and every few seconds he lets out a small grunt or sniffle. Turned in towards the center of the bed, towards Holly, his hands are folded under his face, pressing his cheek up, revealing the dried tracks of tears that glimmer on the skin. You bite your lip harshly and force yourself to turn away and keep searching for your stuff.

But as you swivel around to check this end of the room, a sudden bright reflection hits you right in your eyes. You hiss loudly, squeezing them shut. Upon a second, more cautious glance, you see the culprit is a framed pane of glass sitting atop his nightstand. Careful not to suffer the glare again, you hold your phone up to inspect it.

It takes you a moment, but when you recognise that sliver of vibrant pink, your breath rushes out of you in an overwhelmed sigh. Pressed between two panes of glass so that it lies perfectly flat and preserved, the azalea petal you had picked out of his hair that distant spring day. He really kept it.

Tears threatening to well up, you quickly stand up straight again, caring less about making noise and more about finding your stuff and leaving quickly. You find your backpack in the bottom of his closet. Remembering at the last moment that you’re still in one of his baggy t-shirts rather than the one you came in - when had you started seeing them as your own clothes? - you tug it up over your head, quickly shimmying into the cold fabric of your shirt.

“What are you doing?”

You freeze at the familiar voice, croaky with sleep. “I… I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He’s sitting up; you can see his form out of the corner of your eye, but you keep your head down, not wanting to look at him for fear of what expression would be plastered on his face. “Are you going somewhere?”

You tense your lips, nodding tightly. Now that he’s awake, there’s no need to be quiet, so you rush out his room, leaving the door ajar behind you. It’s lighter out in the living room, the first few inches of the sun as it creeps over the hills above, sending a thin streak of orange light across the carpet.

It takes a few moments, probably since he’s still groggy from just waking up, but Yoongi rushes frantically down the hallway, bursting into the living room. He halts, watching you going through your stuff to make sure it’s all there. “Where are you going?” He stands there, shoulders slumped in dejection as you just shake your head mutely. “Are you leaving me?”

You let out a shaky breath. “I want to apologise for my behavior last night,” you say instead. “I wrote down your bank account earlier, the one you gave Seokjin and Taehyung. When I get back home I’ll reimburse you for however many nights I stayed here.”

“Home?”

“I can’t keep staying here like some freeloader,” you explain, “I’ll get out of your hair so that you can run your business.”

“You don’t have to go,” he protests, though his voice is small, barely reaching your ears.

You let out a frustrated groan when the zipper on your backpack jams, tugging roughly at it. “It’s for the best,” you insist, though you can’t tell who it is you’re trying to convince, “I’ve clearly overstayed my welcome.”

“What does that even mean?” he questions in a wobbly voice.

You huff, chucking the half-open backpack on the couch and facing Yoongi. “I can read the signs, Yoongi. For the past few weeks you’ve been avoiding me like the plague and glaring whenever I’m around. I get it, okay? I’ll get out of your hair.”

“It’s not like that,” he defends. He pushes his curls back off his forehead, sighing out shakily. “I didn’t realise that’s how you were… It’s not you.”

You scoff bitterly, crossing your arms over your head. Both of you have given up being quiet for the sake of the other guests, and at this point you couldn’t care less if they woke up. “Oh, well then by all means, tell me what your problem is. I guess I’m too stupid to understand your fucking smoke signals.”

He furrows his brow in annoyance. “Are you serious? It’s not like you’re the poster child for mature communication.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yoongi shrugs with a petulant frown. “Fuck, I save your tea plant, harvest and prepare the leaves, do the laundry, help with Holly, entertain the guests, and-”

The muscles in Yoongi’s jaw pop when he tenses it. “You are a fucking guest! I didn’t ask for you to act like a housewife! I didn’t ask for you to do the laundry, or plant the herb garden. I didn’t fucking ask for you to suck face with the other guests in my kitchen! So don’t act like such a goddamn saint.”

You hear a door open and shut in the distance, but nothing can distract you from the pent-up rage that’s rolling off you in waves. As the sun steadily rises, the house is lit up in it’s rays, and you curse the daylight for showing you Yoongi more clearly, the way his eyes glitter with unshed tears of frustration. “Why does it matter to you what I do with them? I wasn’t aware there were rules against guests kissing at Holly Lodge. But then again, you’ve never had guests before so I guess you never got around to writing any.”

His face crumples. “That’s not my fault,” he mutters. “I wanted guests to come. I always wanted guests to come.”

You curse yourself for getting so heated, knowing this is turning ugly, but you can’t help yourself. Picking up your backpack, you storm across to the front door, calling out over your shoulder. “Don’t worry, Min Yoongi,” you snap, “you’ll get plenty of guests after I leave you a five-star review on Yelp. ‘Beautiful sights, expensive sheets, emotional turmoil. The best accommodation in Boseong.’ Have a nice life, Yoongi.”

Your hand is on the doorknob when his phone rings, a cheery ringtone of birds chirping. You don’t know what it is that makes you hesitate, but you hover at the front door long enough to hear him mumble, “oh, it’s the vets.”

Your hand falls. As much as Yoongi has hurt you, Min Holly is the sweetest old dog you’ve ever met, and curiosity keeps your feet planted.

“Hello? No, no, it’s okay, I was already awake… Ah, okay, thanks for the- He what?” With a growing feeling of dread, you swivel around in your spot, watching the emotions on Yoongi’s face play out like a movie; confusion, concern, fear. “Will he be okay?” He lets out a shuddering breath, looking around frantically. Looking for Holly. “And how quickly can I get him the operation?”

You let the backpack slide off your shoulder, gently hitting the carpet. His hand is over his nose and mouth, but you can see the wet glistening of his eyes and the way his shoulders shake. You know you’re probably the last person he wants to see, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him. Not now. Not when all you can think of is the pressed petal on his nightstand, framed like something precious. Not when you’re beginning to think that maybe you read his cold shoulder wrong after all.

“I… Can I call you back? I don’t think I can afford that, I need to contact someone who can. Okay. Yes, okay. Thank you for the call. Bye.” His voice cracks on the last syllable, and he barely manages to end the call before a broken sob is torn from his throat. “Oh, god.” His knees give out, and before you can process a response, you’re rushing forward, crouching on the floor in front of him.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry,” you say in a hush, feeling your nose prickle with the warning of tears. He heaves another sob, crying some words you can’t make out. “Yoongi, I- You said there was someone you can call, take a deep breath, you can give them a call and get it sorted, okay?”

He wipes his face with shaking hands and blinks up at you. There’s no sign of animosity or lingering anger; when he stares at you, all you can see is a raw vulnerability. “My brother,” he manages to say in a thick voice, “but I can’t do it, I can’t speak to him.” He lets out another wail, and you sense there’s something deeper there, but you don’t have time to question it.

“Okay, I’ll call then. Unlock your phone for me, Yoongi, I’ll call.” He does so, typing in the string of numbers, 46559, three times before he gets it right with how violently his fingers tremble. “What’s your brother’s name, Yoongi?”

In the corner of your eye, you see two half-asleep young men padding down the hallway. You wave them away behind Yoongi’s back, mouthing get Holly at them. After they disappear, you bring your attention back to the bed-and-breakfast owner, who’s tucked his knees under his chin, looking more childlike than ever in his white pyjamas with daisies on them. “Joonie,” he hiccups, “call Joonie.”

Though there’s no Joonie listed as a contact, you assume Namjoon is the same person, and so you call it, reaching out to tentatively rub Yoongi’s back as it rings.

The call clicks through after only a few seconds. The voice is deeper than you were expecting, and authoritative. “Yoongi-hyung?”

With wide eyes filled with tears, Yoongi’s head picks up and he stares at you balefully, listening to the call. You put it on speakerphone. “I’m calling on behalf of Yoongi,” you explain, “I’m a friend.”

“The first call in years and it’s not even him,” he mutters, “go figure. What’s up?”

You bite your lip awkwardly. “Uh, it’s Holly. I don’t really know the details, Yoongi only just got the call, but he’s very sick. He needs an operation, urgently, it seems like. Yoongi would call, but he’s really upset at the moment.” You lock eyes with Yoongi as you speak, unable to tear your gaze away from the deep well of pain in them.

“Shit,” his brother curses, “is he there now?”

Yoongi gives the tiniest shake of his head. “He’s gone to grab some tissues, I think,” you lie, hoping your voice doesn’t betray you. “But Yoongi can’t afford the treatment. I think he’s hoping you could pay for it.”

Namjoon pauses on the other end of the line for a moment. “Your voice sounds distant, so I’m assuming you’re on speakerphone. Hi, Yoongi-hyung.” You bite your lip, but the crying boy just clasps his hand over his mouth again, a fresh wave of tears. “But anyway, of course I’ll pay. There’s just one thing… If I do this, hyung, Holly is staying with me. He needs proper care and treatment, especially if he’s having surgery. The veterinarians are better in Seoul, anyway. I can make sure he’s getting the best help. Understand, Yoongi?”

Clammy fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling the cellphone a little closer. “Okay, Joonie. I understand.”

You hear some typing in the background coming from Namjoon’s end, but Yoongi’s attention is caught by the familiar jingling from down the hallway. As Holly enters in a speedy jog, Yoongi reaches out to the dog with grabby-hands, letting out a shaky sigh of relief when the dog jumps into his arms, immediately lying across Yoongi’s lap. The young man cradles his companion, tears wetting the fur on his head.

“I’ve shuffled around a few appointments,” the voice from the phone announces, and you jump at the sudden noise. “I’ll be there by this afternoon. Thanks for the call…”

“Y/n,” you supply.

“Thanks for the call, Y/n. And I’ll see you soon, Yoongi-hyung.”

--

Seokjin and Taehyung decide to make their goodbyes. They sense, rightly so, that it wouldn’t do them well to stay, and as it is they had lives to get back to. The house seems quieter with them gone, but you suppose had they been here that cheery energy would’ve disappeared.

Yoongi and you spend the day in silence, quietly sitting on the couch, staring at the turned-off television screen emptily, as Holly sleeps soundly, snoring away in Yoongi’s arms. It feels more like a funeral, this weird, drawn-out goodbye, and once Yoongi receives a text saying Namjoon has landed, he solemnly wanders around the house, collecting all of Holly’s food, dog bed (that you’d never seen him actually use) and all of his favorite toys.

For the first time, you hear the crunch of gravel as someone arrives in a car. Namjoon looks nothing like Yoongi in the bigger picture - taller, bulkier, straighter hair - but they have the same glimmer in their eyes, the same round faces. For all that Namjoon seems to be the more adult one of the two, it’s clear by the way he pulls Yoongi into a tight hug, his whole body curling into it, that Namjoon is the younger brother. As the two of them catch up over some tea, you keep your distance, sensing there were some things they needed to discuss that didn’t concern you.

You decide to take Holly on one last wander through the forest. Now that Yoongi seems to have calmed down, eyes dry, you figure you’ve done your part. Especially with Seokjin and Taehyung leaving, you find it harder and harder to ignore the pull of your life back home, your responsibilities. Your old friends and loved ones don’t text you much anymore, but when they do they ask when you’re coming back to the ‘real world’. University, a career, a house. Things that they seem to care about more than you do. Your stuff is already packed up. When you get back, you can call up the Boseong-gun terminal and see when the next bus home leaves. It’s for the best, you tell yourself.

Namjoon is gone quickly after you return. The house feels hopelessly empty without Holly. If you can feel it, you have no idea how much it must tear Yoongi up inside, and so you put on the television, hoping any noise will fill even the smallest amount of that void.

You make the two of you some ramen for dinner, but both bowls sit untouched. They’ve long gone cold before Yoongi suddenly sits up, muting the ads on the TV. You stare at him uncertainly.

“I… wanted to thank you,” he says slowly, “for staying with me. You didn’t have to, but I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” He picks at some stray dog hairs that are embedded in the fabric of the couch. “I’m scared to be alone again.”

Your face falls. All thoughts of returning home are rendered void. You can’t leave him. “Of course I’ll stay,” you promise in a whisper.

He swallows, shuffling around so that he faces you on the couch. “You’ll stay,” he repeats in a chant. His gaze dips, then flickers back up to yours again. With brows furrowed like he’s unsure of what he’s doing, he leans forward and presses a tentative kiss across your lips.

You freeze. His hand rests on your knee, the lightest pressure, and he kisses you again, insistent this time like he’s begging for a response. Your heart breaks as you reach up and push his chest, separating him from you.

His eyes flutter open and his bottom lip trembles. “I don’t understand…” He retracts his hands into his lap, leaving your knee cold with his absence.

“You’re not in the right frame of mind, Yoongi,” you explain, “you’ve had a long day, and- Yoongi…” He stands up abruptly, and you reach out to him, but he waves your hand away.

“Goodnight,” he says shortly, leaving the room.

You sigh out and tip your head back, banging it against the couch headrest. Why did it feel like no matter what you did, it hurt?

--

You stay. Just like you promised, you stay for him.

You don’t see him anymore, but you drop off three meals a day at his door, and in the middle of the night, when you can’t sleep, sometimes you hear him showering, or grabbing a snack. Sometimes you hear him leave the house, only to return hours later. It feels strangely intimate that you know exactly where he goes on those nights.

You find out through eavesdropping on Yoongi’s calls to Namjoon that Holly got the operation. Though you still don’t know what exactly happened, there’s talk of a cast, and physical therapy. You hope he’s doing okay.

Although you understand Yoongi is upset about his companion being taken from him, you expect eventually he’ll come around. You wait day-in, day-out for him to open the door and come back to reality. You struggle away in the kitchen learning to cook, hoping to entice him with wafts of spice. You start loudly making calls to friends and family, highly recommending Holly Lodge. You even knock on his door in excitement when a little hedgehog trundles into the backyard one day, thinking maybe his pure love of nature will draw him out, but nothing works.

And then, after the leaves begin to burnish in autumn shades, you know you’ve been here too long. You sit down outside his doorway, head leaning against the closed door. “Yoongi,” you call out.

He doesn’t answer. You don’t even know if it’s awake or not. The thought that he might not even be listening gives you a strange confidence.

“Yoongi,” you repeat, “I don’t know what to do anymore. You can’t stay in there forever. I know I said I would stay. And I’ve done my best to keep that promise. But this isn’t healthy, for either of us. Please, just come out and have a meal with me. Come for a walk; we could go stargazing tonight. Anything, Yoongi.”

Silence.

“It’s time for me to leave,” you reveal lowly. “There’s nothing else I can do to help you. I… The bus back home leaves tomorrow, but it leaves early, so I’m going to stay in town overnight. I’ve already called Mrs. Na. She’s got a room for me at the motel.” You sigh out at the continued lack of response. “I’m telling you this, Yoongi, because once I go you need to start doing things for yourself. I’ve thought long and hard about this because I’m-” you break off, blinking quickly to fight the tears that spring to your ears. “Because I’m scared that you’ll forget to eat, and get sick. I’m scared of leaving you alone like this, but I don’t know what else to do.” You sniffle, clearing your throat and standing. “Goodbye, Yoongi.”

--

It takes you longer than normal to follow the gravel road back into town. Mostly because of the way your eyes will fill with tears, and you’ll stumble on the uneven footing here and there. Or maybe it’s your body’s last cry of protest, not wanting to leave at all.

Either way, when you reach it, the motel is nice enough. Check-in isn’t until 3 in the afternoon, apparently, so you mope in the lobby for a few hours, curled up on the armchair. Mrs. Na peeks over her magazine every couple of minutes, but you refuse to look back until she’s waving you over with a manicured hand.

“Single room for one night?”

You nod in confirmation, already fishing around your backpack for your wallet to pay. Having paid for the groceries yourself over the past few weeks, your account is running concerningly low. “Thanks for-”

“Finally got tired of the love shack, huh?”

You blink at the interruption, freezing. “Excuse me?”

The bitter wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepen as she frowns at you. “Don’t play coy, dear. You two little lovebirds have been the talk of the town. You stay here for months, and then out of nowhere, you don’t leave the lodge for weeks. I guess there must be trouble in paradise.”

You fight the urge to snap at her, knowing she’ll only kick you out. “It isn’t like that. There were some personal issues that needed sorting out, that’s all.”

She raises her eyebrows patronisingly, turning to reach for one of the keys hung up behind the desk. “The only personal issue I can see is how inappropriate it is for a young woman like yourself to be living with three young men.”

You bite your tongue. Just one night. Instead of replying, you simply hold out the last of your cash, a flat palm ready to accept the key in return.

She takes the cash delicately, making sure not to touch your hand itself at all, and then holds out the key. “I just want you to know that my motel does not tolerate any untoward behavior. You better not be trying to whore yourself out to my custom-”

You jump as a hand cuts into your line of vision and bats the hand away. Mrs. Na recoils in shock, still gripping the cash tightly, and widens her eyes at the newcomer.

Turning around in disbelief, you watch as Min Yoongi reaches over and tugs the notes forcefully from her hand. “I’ve had it,” he spits out.

“Yoongi,” you breathe in awe, but he ignores you.

Wearing a dusty pink sweater and grey skinny jeans, he somehow still manages to strike an intimidating image. His shoulder gently nudges you, pushing you behind him. “No, I’ve had it,” he repeats more forcefully. “You can insult me, you can insult my business, my house, even my family. But I will not stand here and let you insult the woman I love.”

Both you and Mrs. Na gape at him, and this sudden burst of confidence.

Yoongi slips his hand into yours, squeezing tightly. He glares at Mrs. Nah one last time. “And your tea always tasted like shit, that’s why you went out of business. Come on, Y/n, we’re going home.”

He doesn’t let your hand go the entire way back to the lodge. You don’t want him to, either, because your chest feels so light it seems like he’s the only thing anchoring you with this strange swirling inside you. He doesn’t speak, only rushing you back up the slight slope to the lodge, to home, and when you finally arrive you see the door swinging on its hinge in the breeze, wide open.

Yoongi doesn’t address it. It seems like he’s desperate, feverish, to get you inside. In an odd mirroring of your first night together, he leads you directly to the guest room, hand firmly clasping your own.

“Yoongi, what’s going on?”

He tips his chin forward suddenly, then shakes his head and falls back. “Talk first,” he mumbles to himself. Then, back at you: “Y/n. I know I’m not good with words, or silent yearning looks, or smoke signals. So I’m going to be really clear now, just in case you didn’t hear it back at the motel.”

You can’t help but crack a grin at the earnest statement, giggling quietly. Yoongi pouts at you, but returns your smile reluctantly. Your heart leaps. He hasn’t smiled since that night under the stars. “I did hear it,” you admit, “but I sure would love to hear it again.”

“I love you, Y/n,” he confesses, “I’m so hopelessly in love with you that I didn’t even realise it at first. I’m so in love with you that I didn’t know what to do with myself, how to act. I felt like I couldn’t be around you for too long because my heart would ache. But then avoiding you just felt even worse. And when I saw you with the boys…”

“It didn’t mean anything,” you defend quickly, but Yoongi just furrows his brows.

“That’s not what I mean… It made me realize that I had no right to be angry or jealous, because I didn’t even have the courage to kiss you like they did. Even if it meant nothing for you or for them, I hated that I was too scared to do the same.”

You release all the air you didn’t realise you’d been holding. “That day Namjoon came. When you kissed me…”

Yoongi nods, slowly sitting down onto the edge of the bed, looking at your hands, still intertwined. “I wanted to tell you in words,” he admits. “I really was so scared you were gonna leave me, and I didn’t think I could take it. But I just couldn’t say it. So, I did the only thing I could think of.” He lets out a noisy breath, flicking you a sad smile. “But I guess I misread the situation. Even after I saw you with Taehyung and Seokjin I still thought maybe you liked me too. Sorry for making things weird.”

You shake your head, but he’s not looking at you anymore, so you sit down beside him, clasping your other hand over the two of yours. “You didn’t misread the situation. I didn’t want things to go further that night because I thought you might regret it in the morning. But you didn’t misread the situation. I… I’ve liked you for a long time. And I’ve never felt this way before, but I think it might be love.”

His eyes are on you, bright with hope and realisation. Having forgone a haircut for a little too long, droopy curls hang low over his brows, and he scrunches his nose unconsciously at the tickle. You look over his button nose, the roundness of his cheeks. His delicate pink lips slightly parted as he gives you his full attention.

A smile stretches across your face. “Actually, I’m sure. I love you, Min Yoongi. So much.”

His mouth turns up in pure happiness, flashing his gums for the first time in months. He searches your face for a moment, like he can’t quite believe it, then does something you’re not expecting.

He pulls you into a tight hug.

You immediately feel all tension leave your body at the feeling of his arms wrapping around you, chin resting on your shoulder. You bury your face into his neck and sink into his embrace. You think for the both of you, it’s been a very long time since you’ve had one.

“I don’t deserve you,” he praises quietly.

You squeeze him tighter, breathing in his natural scent, slightly floral, like the smell of his garden in spring. “You deserve the world.”

Instead of letting go, after a few moments he turns his head slightly, so that his nose brushes against your neck. You shiver when you feel his lips pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the sensitive skin of your throat. “Yoongi,” you murmur,  your body already responding to him, head tipping outwards to give him more room.

He works slowly, reverentially, sucking enough to make you tremble, but not so harshly to leave anything more than gentle pink marks. You sigh, eyes slipping closed in pleasure. You can feel his lips moving, like he’s whispering against your skin, making his way lower, but when his teeth scrape your collarbone lightly, you grow impatient.

You press your fingers insistently under his jaw and lift him, immediately capturing his mouth in a kiss that’s simultaneously exciting and reassuring, his lips molding against you as his back arches up, seeking every bit of contact he can get. You slide an arm around him, running it up and down his back soothingly. With the way his fingers curl desperately onto your shoulders, it seems like it’s been a while for him, just like it has for you. “Lie down,” you instruct softly, breaking from the kiss to help lower him to the bed.

You shuffle over for him to put his legs on the bed too, fully on his back, and then you straddle his hips, brushing his face fondly as you join your mouths together again. He seems all too happy to let you take control, eyes closed in bliss and jaw slack as you move lower, pressing countless small kisses down his cheek, jaw, and neck, until you’re propping yourself up on your forearms, laving at the skin. You can feel his pulse jumping under your tongue, and his throat bob every time he swallows. Sometimes, the skin vibrates gently, and you hear him letting out soft whimpers.

It’s not until his neck sports a spray of blossoming purple and dark pink that you sit up, a thought striking you. “Wait; why aren’t we in your bedroom?”

He blinks up at you, pupils blown wide, but eyes wider. “I wanted the Egyptian cotton sheets.”

You laugh breathily, clasping his face gently in your hands. “God, I love you.” His cheeks grow warm beneath your hands as his eyes soften in happiness. With his lips slightly pursed in your grasp, you bend down again and join your lips together.

He tastes sweet, and he has a patient yet passionate way of reciprocating the kiss, straining his face up to deepen it if he feels you pulling away too much. You could stay like this forever. As you feel his tongue shyly begin to slip out of his mouth, darting against your lip in tiny strokes, you feel a familiar sensation billow in your chest. The same feeling you had in those first few weeks, when everything felt magical and separate, like a little slice of heaven. Now, it’s far stronger, because at the center of your paradise is him.

You break off from his lips, nudging his head to the side with your nose and pressing a chaste kiss just below his ear. “Do you want to go further?” you question in a hushed whisper. “We can take this slow if you want.”

Looking up at you, he shakes his head hastily. “Please,” he sighs, “I want you.”

“Okay.” You sit up again, hovering over him. “Have you done this before?” He nods easily. “Let’s take this shirt off, then, hm?” He swallows when you play at the hem of his pink sweater, but nods after a moment.

Although it’s autumn, and he probably should’ve been layering up, it seems like he left the house in a hurry since he’s not wearing an undershirt. As you lift up the fabric inch by inch, more bare skin is revealed, unblemished other than a few moles. You trail your fingertips over them, feeling him shiver beneath you. The thought occurs to you that a time will come when you know the location of every one by heart, could map them out on the planes of his body with your eyes closed. Your heart aches at the thought, overwhelmed by it.

Having been in his room, sedentary for weeks, he’s developed a small paunch just above his waistband, filling out his hips a bit. He blushes, turning his head to the side shyly when you look over him.

“You’re beautiful, Yoongi,” you assure him wholeheartedly. “Absolutely perfect. Arms up for me?”

He obediently raises his limbs, wiggling out of the sweater. Once you toss it on the ground, you quickly remove and discard your own shirt, not wanting him to feel too self-conscious. His eyes light up at the sight of your bra, and you see his fingers twitch.

“Want me to take it off?” you question rhetorically, chucking lightly when he nods. Instead of doing as he wishes, you instead grab his hands and guide them around your back, leaning over so he can reach the clasp. “They’re hooks,” you explain, “so push the two sides towards each other, and then out.”

“I know how to take off a bra,” he mutters petulantly, though he fumbles with the hooks for a few moments, before finally getting them free and slipping the fabric off your body. You pull your arms out, and laugh when he flings it dramatically across the room, so that it smacks the wall and lands in a pitiful heap. “I hate those,” he mutters, half to himself. “They just get in the way.”

"I know something else that's getting in the way," you counter, and stand up off the bed, unbuttoning your jeans and shimmying out of them. "Do you want yours off too?"

He hesitates for a moment. "Can we... Can we turn the light off, or something?"

"Of course, if it makes you feel more comfortable." You quickly pad over to the other side of the room, flicking the light switch by the door.

It's clear that some time has passed since the two of you returned home by the way the room is plunged into a dim evening gloom when you turn the light off. "Too dark," Yoongi mumbles unhappily, and crawls over the mattress to reach the lamp on the bedside table, flicking it on and pushing the head of the lamp down so that it's just enough to see by. His face looks softer in this glow, and more relaxed. He gets out of his jeans quietly and without fanfare, settling back onto the bed.

In nothing but your underwear, when you lie down beside him and pull him into a languid kiss, you can feel the stiff peaks of your nipples pressing against his chest. He shivers in the cool air, mouth slack as you take control of the kiss. You’re all too happy to take things slow, not wanting to rush him, and so you lose track of time, simply kissing him until Yoongi is the only thing filling your thoughts.

After a time, your kisses become more frantic; sucking, nibbling, licking until your lips are swollen and slick. You let your hands roam the planes of his body, flat palms running up his chest and slipping over the curve in his lower spine. You swing a leg over his hips and gently press your heel, urging him closer until there’s nothing but the two layers of thin fabric keeping you apart. 

You sigh into his mouth when you feel a thumb swipe over one of your pebbled nipples, sending a bolt of pleasure straight down to your core. 

“Is this okay?” he questions as he begins to gently roll it between his fingers. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his hand, your kisses growing sloppy. “Feels good?” You groan out your confirmation, clenching your thighs tighter as he keeps the same delicate pressure, tugging lightly at it to see how stiff it can get between the pads of his fingers. 

“Yoongi,” you breathe, “so good.” You bask in the sensation for a while longer, before you can no longer maintain your mouth on his. You clasp your hand over the one of his that cups your breast, gently pulling it away. “I want you, Yoongi.”

He stares at you, eyes wide with anticipation as you lower yourself, getting comfortable between his legs, face just above his clothed crotch. “You don’t have to-” he protests weakly, but you cut him off, patting the top of his thigh reassuringly.

“I want to,” you counter. “You took care of me when I had nowhere to stay, you took care of me when I got sunburnt. You even took care of me with Mrs. Na. So let me take care of you, baby.” 

You slip the fabric of his underwear down over the swells of his ass, watching as his cock springs up and rests on his stomach. It seems silly to say, but he’s got the most beautiful dick you’ve ever seen. Leaving his underwear half-on around his thighs, you take him gently in your hand, mouth watering. 

With a delicate pink head and a graceful curve, he’s smaller than you would’ve expected, but somehow this dainty cock fits him perfectly. It looks beautiful in your hand, and when you pump him, beads of precum pool in his slit, threatening to spill over. 

You take him in your mouth, flicking your tongue against the underside of his tip as you create some suction. He lets out a satisfied sigh, muscles tensing. After taking him deep in order to get him lubricated enough, you slip off him with a pop and begin jerking your wrist, working him to pull more moans from his swollen lips. 

“Feels so nice,” he praises, though he can’t stop from wiggling under your ministrations, the elastic around his thighs keeping him from moving much. 

When you suck him down again, you keep your eyes up, wanting to drink in his reactions. Eyes bunched shut in pleasure, he’s fully unaware of your gaze. 

He looks beautiful, even from this angle, and you’re struck by the fact that this will be the first time of many, that you’ll see him from below like this many times in the future, and that soon you’ll be able to decipher every twitch of his eyebrows and every gasped cry. 

Suddenly his eyes are opening, staring down at you in awe, and you feel your heart swell. You can’t take it anymore. You give him one last flick of your tongue, and crawl up his body to join your mouth to his, reveling in the way his two tastes mingle in your mouth. 

“I need you,” you chant against his lips, “are you still okay to take this all the way?” 

He nods quickly, but rubs behind his ear. “Could we get under the covers? I tend to, uh, fall asleep pretty quickly afterwards so I don’t want to freeze overnight.”

You laugh softly, sitting up to slip your panties off before you tuck yourself under the sheets. When you turn to wait for him, he’s frozen with his mouth hanging half-open. You give him a confused smile. “What?”

He blinks, shakes his head a bit to clear his thoughts, and cracks a wonky grin. “I’m somehow the luckiest and most stupid man in the world.” 

“How do you figure that?”

He kicks his underwear off the rest of the way and scoots under the blankets to join you, propping his head up with his hand as he lies on his side. “I’m the luckiest because I’m in love with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and she for some reason loves me back.” 

You smile softly, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your skin. “And why are you the stupidest?” 

“It took me this fucking long to do anything about it.”

You let out a loud laugh, reaching out for his hand to entwine your fingers again. The movement feels natural and the warmth of his palm in yours is already familiar and reassuring. “Let’s make up on lost time, then.” 

He grins, teeth pressing into his bottom lip, then gasps. “Wait,” he pouts, “I have to go grab a condom!” 

You push yourself up and reach over his body to the nightstand on the other side of the bed. “Don’t worry,” you assure, “the lovebirds have us covered.” 

In the drawer are three boxes of condoms. You rest on top of Yoongi’s bare chest as you reach into the open one, fiddling around for a square packet in the almost-empty carton. 

Yoongi leans over and widens his eyes. “God, how many times did they fuck in here?” When he cranes his neck, he sees the two full boxes beside the one you took. “How many times were they planning to fuck in here?”

You giggle, sitting up again, but it’s cut off by a drawn-out moan. You look down to see Yoongi latched on to your nipple, looking up at you innocently through his brown curls. You groan again, feeling his tongue swipe against it and his teeth nibble on it teasingly.

He pulls off you with a wet pop, hand coming up to massage at it, soothing away the slight pain from the bite. “Sorry,” he mutters off-handedly, though it’s clear he doesn’t really mean it, “I couldn’t help myself.” 

You grin and swing a leg over his hips, straddling him with his cock resting just in front of your bare pussy. He swears lowly and tips his head back onto the pillows. “Don’t apologise,” you assure, “I liked it. In fact, feel free to do that again anytime.” 

He blushes hotly, and as you bring your hand down to palm at his stiff cock, you marvel at the fact that he’s still so flustered around you. You wonder how long he’ll take to build his confidence, or if he’ll always be your sweet, shy boy in the bedroom. As you let go of his hand to rip open the packet and slide on the condom, you’re not sure which outcome you’d want more. He does look so beautiful splayed out in below you, neck blooming in colour from your markings. 

“Ready?” you check in one last time. Yoongi breathes out deeply and nods, but clutches his right hand out in front of you. You interlock your fingers with him once more and sit up on your knees, using your free hand to line him up. 

His whole body trembles when you sheath yourself on him in one swift movement. His eyes are furrowed shut, lips parted in pleasure. You can see his knuckles whiten as they grip the sheets and your hand. “Y/n,” he breathes out in a tight voice, “go slow. Please.” 

You bite your lip at the feeling of him inside you, clenching your folds to increase the friction as you lift up off him slowly. Creating a slow but deep pace, you let the sounds of his delicate cries fill your ears. He’s not noisy, but just very vocal, every breath coming out as a whine or moan of pleasure. “You’re so good for me, baby,” you praise breathlessly. “My good boy.” 

His hips buck up and you hiss as he inadvertently thrusts into you deeper than before. “God,” he whines hopelessly. 

“I thought you said slow,” you tease, resting your interlocked hands on the bed and trailing the fingertips of your other hand over his chest lightly, feeling the way his dick twitches inside you when you pass over his nipple.

He makes a noise of disagreement, tossing his head side to side when you begin to slowly swirl your hips, grinding on him rather than riding him. “Wan’more,” he pleads. 

You grab his other hand, keeping them both pinned to the pillow on either side of his head as an anchoring point for you to keep yourself steady as you begin to pick up your pace. 

He writhes beneath you so beautifully, and that paired with the grind of his cock inside you brings you to the edge after only a few more minutes. Yoongi is clearly suffering the same lack of longevity by the way his moans are short and high pitched, thighs trembling in desperation. 

Rather than words, you indicate you’re close by bending down and joining your lips together again, wanting to be as connected with him as possible when you reach your edge. The moment he moans your name into your mouth, you feel a powerful orgasm spread through you, coming from within and igniting pleasure in all your nerves. Your toes curl and your pace stutters, but you force yourself to continue as long as you can, grinding on him when you don’t have the strength to bounce up and down. He comes with a cry, clutching your hands so close they hurt, mindlessly babbling confessions of love. 

True to form, he indeed becomes very sleepy very fast, and you have to take the condom off for him as the moment you get up off him, he lets out a tired mumble, nuzzling his face into any skin of yours close enough in his sleep. 

You laugh silently, fondly, and join him under the heated covers, wrapping an arm around his middle, just like that night under the stars. 

—

You wake up before him that next morning. 

Although it’s late autumn, the sun streams in lazily through the crack in the curtains, casting a warm glow over his delicate body. He grunts unhappily when you separate yourself from him, and in his sleep he turns around, seeking your warmth. 

When you dress quietly, opting for his oversized sweater and some panties rather than your own clothes, you listen to the regular sound of his breathing, feeling it calm you. His hair is sticking up in all directions and he’s drooling out the corner of his mouth, but still, you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than Min Yoongi. 

The soft pink of his sweater brings to mind a different shade, a vibrant one. The azalea petal that presumably still resides on his nightstand, the one he kept all those months ago. Did he really love you that whole time? 

You smile softly at the thought, and tip-toe out the guest room, towards the kitchen. With the only sound being the chirping of the birds outside, you grab the jar of Boseong Breakfast tea, and pull out two mugs. 

[novelconcepts]

For your prompt consideration, Owen and Jamie both mentioned having bad dreams that brought them back to the lake that night. What about a little scene where Jamie tells Dani what drew her back to Bly that night to find her and Flora in the lake?

“What brought you back?” 

It’s been days--two, Jamie thinks, though time seems to be unraveling in a way unique to grief--since the lake. Since finding Dani with a foreign color in one eye, a child in her arms, a shiver in her bones no amount of firewood seems able to coax out again. It’s been days, and she hasn’t been able to bring herself to leave Dani’s side. 

Dani doesn’t fight her. Dani, instead, seems magnetized in some fresh way, always finding her way back to Jamie no matter the situation. Jamie returns from the kitchen with mugs of hot tea she nearly splashes on the both of them when Dani shifts out of a shadow, hugging herself with nervous intensity. Jamie moves toward the front door and finds Dani waiting outside in a jean jacket and vacant stare, wondering if Jamie can find something for her to do with her hands. She can’t sit still, it seems, unless Jamie is holding her--and even then, she can’t stop shaking. 

She hasn’t asked many questions. Hasn’t spoken much, except when spoken to by one of the kids, by Wingrave asking dazedly for advice on tiny matters around the house. Things that should have been Hannah’s purview, or Owen’s--things that should, in a world that makes any kind of sense, still belong to their flirtatious grins, their genial banter, their soft way of moving around one another in a constant orbit. 

Dani answers politely, matter-of-factly, and when Jamie moves slightly out of reach, she seems to drift as though under a power not entirely her own until her hand can slide into Jamie’s once more. 

It’s on the second--or possibly third--day that she asks it. “What brought you back?” Her voice holds that same level, matter-of-fact tone from telling Flora to brush her teeth, telling Miles to tie his shoe before he stumbles. “What brought you back that night?”

Jamie hums to buy time, gazing at the ceiling. They’re wrapped close in Dani’s bed--what Jamie has come all too quickly to think of as their bed, uninterested in going back to the cold quiet of her own flat ever again, so long as Dani needs her--as the hours drift from late to midnight. Dani’s head is on her chest, Dani’s hand closed tight around her t-shirt as though holding Jamie in place with nothing more than her own urgency. 

“Told you. Had a dream.”

“You said that,” Dani says quietly. “But it...I mean, it doesn’t make sense, right? A dream. Dreams are weird.”

“They are.”

“They don’t usually force you out of bed and into the car.”

Jamie sighs. “It...you’ll think I’m...” She can’t finish the sentence. Can’t say that final word, which has been haunting Dani since the moment they met, and seems only to have tightened its hold on her life since the lake. 

Dani raises her head very slightly, her smile nowhere near meeting her eyes. “Crazy?”

“It was a dream,” Jamie repeats. “A nightmare, I guess. Nothin’ more.”

“But you came.”

You needed me. Not that there was any way to know that. Not that there was any reason to assume that. She’d gone to bed that night after a cold shower, face in her hands as she’d relished the memory of Dani asking her to stay. The memory of Dani’s kiss, her hands pressing Jamie close, her urgent hope so clear, Jamie still isn’t sure how she’d denied Dani its power. 

“It sounded like Hannah,” she says now, slowly, each word fragmented in her mouth. It hurts to think of Hannah--of Hannah saying, “Not you, oh, not you. What are you doing here?”--of Hannah’s eyes huge and screaming in her normally-serene face. It hurts, to remember the way Hannah had looked at them, and how Jamie hadn’t even had time to reach out to her, hadn’t even been able to pause to consider what might turn Hannah from the elegant woman of her memory to this terrified version stumbling out of the dark. 

“The dream,” Dani presses. Her hand traces Jamie’s collar, her fingers light on Jamie’s skin. Jamie shivers, does not reach to stop her, and Dani keeps going--trailing the backs of her fingers up Jamie’s neck, her nails along the line of Jamie’s jaw, as if memorizing Jamie in this tactile method is the only thing keeping her in this bed. 

“It sounded like Hannah screaming,” Jamie says, and closes her eyes. “Have you ever heard Hannah scream?”

Dani shakes her head once, thumb swiping across Jamie’s chin, fingers splaying along her cheek. Jamie closes her eyes tighter. 

“Nor I. Not once in three years of knowin’ her. But she was screaming in this dream--like she couldn’t breathe right. Like something had her by the throat and...and she was shouting for us both. Me and Owen.”

Dani sits up, watching her steadily. That brown eye is eerie even still, though each hour sets it more firmly into her face, tries a little harder to convince Jamie it’s always been a part of Dani Clayton. She swallows, lets Dani’s hand continue its play up the planes of her face, stroking along her lips, her nose, the curve of cheekbone. 

“She was screaming, and I was running, and the lake was...everywhere. Had come up off its banks somehow--I thought maybe a storm had...dunno, but it was creeping up to the house. And I just kept thinking...just kept seeing your room. This room. Underwater.”

It hadn’t been Dani’s room, then, though--not if she’s honest with herself, not if she tries to call the dream back like a film gone in reverse. It hadn’t been Dani’s room yet, this horribly sunken version of bed and nightstand and lamp. 

It had been Rebecca, hadn’t it? Rebecca, wrapped around herself with nothing more to hang onto. Rebecca, staring with horrified eyes up into the lapping waves as they drew ever nearer. 

Trauma, thinks Jamie, does funny things. Plays funny tricks on a person. She can’t forget Rebecca’s body in that lake, even now, facedown in that black dress. She can’t forget the drift of her hair, the boneless sprawl of her limbs, the horrible bloated cast to her skin. 

What horrors will Hannah wreck from beyond the grave, she worries. What will Hannah visit upon her, that final lasting image of a woman at the bottom of a well? 

“I knew,” she says hollowly. “In the dream, I knew if the water got to you before I did...if you went under before I could...and I’d promised you, Dani, I’d just promised you there would be other--”

Dani’s fingers press to her lips, stilling the words before they can stumble and rattle over one another. Before she can begin to rave, the horror of dark and cold and impossible threading into a net that might drag her under. 

“A dream,” Dani says softly. “It was a dream.”

It was, Jamie wants to say, and it wasn’t. It was Hannah. Somehow. Because hadn’t Owen, on the other end of the phone, blustered the same? Hadn’t Owen said, “This is gonna sound--but Hannah--Hannah’s underwater, Hannah’s drowning, we have to go back--”

“A dream,” she says shakily, and knows she’ll never be able to forget it. Not the insistent creep of black water up over rosebushes, tumbling statues, tracing hungry fingers beneath the doors of the manor. Not the way Dani’s room had rocked like a ship unmoored as it had filled higher and higher, Dani’s horrified eyes reflected in a lake that had no business climbing past its bounds. 

“Had to do it,” she says. “Had to get to you before...”

Dani surges in, kisses her, agony and affection mingling in a moment that catches Jamie before she can drift. She finds herself clinging to Dani as one clings to a life raft, hands in Dani’s hair, mouth opening to accept whatever Dani can offer tonight. Dani feels so solid, even when her gaze is a million miles away. Dani’s hands are so real, even while her voice trembles and her bones shake beneath paper-thin flesh. 

“Just a dream,” Dani repeats, half a moan, like banishing a campfire horror. “Just a dream, just a dream, just a--”

Jamie sinks into her, eyes closed, understanding there are some wishes too big to be granted. Too truths too true to accept. Just a dream--and just the future, somehow, knocking on a door I won’t open. Not ever. Not with her standing with me on the other side. 

Hannah’s voice is banished by Dani’s kiss now, by the slide and rock of Dani’s body fitting against her own. Hannah’s screams are put to bed, replaced by Dani’s breath in her ear, Dani’s acceptance of every inch Jamie is able to give. 

They will be back, Jamie thinks. Little by little. Less and less. To some degree or another, they will be back. She’ll never entirely forget that night. 

In a way, she’s grateful. This final rescue at the hands of Hannah Grose. This final protective ward cast over the house to which she’d given so much. 

She only hopes Hannah knew, before it all went dark, she’d saved them all.