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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Animal (12)

Chadwick Boseman X Original Female Character “Sianna”

Chapter Warning: Cursing, Angst, Plot

Word Count: 4.7K

Note: I know 2 months overdue, I’m sorry. I hope you guys enjoy this. By the way, Tumblr is on the BS and flagged the first post of this because my moodboard had a portrayal of backshots. LMFAO!!!! So 2nd try and no moodboard. Also, I apologize if the spacing is off, I worked really hard going through trying to make the spacing stick. Again, Tumblr is on that BS.

As always thank you for reading, I appreciate you!

**Loosely edited/Proofread***

Thank you guys for reading!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, REBLOG, COMMENT. ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Sianna-

“I have no excuse for my actions, and I won’t make any, I just need you to forgive me.”

“I was a major asshole, Sianna. I’m sorry.”

“You lied, you’re still pregnant.”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through these last weeks thinking that I was the reason you aborted the baby, I was at fault for my own child being–, how could do that?”

“Here I thought that there was something between us, something from Jamaica that traveled to Barbados, something that wouldn’t let either of us go. Then, these last few weeks I was depressing over the fact that I’d screwed up so bad that I lost you without giving this a real chance to be something and here you are.”

<><><><><>

His words flashed through your head as did the memory of last night. They occupied your brain so much you barely slept, and you were feeling the consequences of lack of sleep. You stretched your back for the tenth time this morning as you walked around your office. You walked to the window and gazed out, not looking at one thing in particular. Suddenly your mother’s old ass passed along from ancestor to ancestor cautionary words popped into your head.

What a twisted web we weave when we practice to deceive.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. She must have said them to you countless times since you were a child. When you lied and then were caught, she said them, when she heard some gossip about the neighbor or one of the other kids she’d say them, when your father got on her nerves every once in a while she’d say them. You could hear her voice as if she were standing right next to you.

You didn’t plan to weave any web, and you certainly didn’t plan to deceive anyone. Okay yes, you wanted to keep the truth from Chad but only for a little while. You were furious when you said the words at the lake. You saw red with all the accusations and slander; you could barely help yourself. Once you’d calmed down some, you regretted it—only slightly though. In hindsight, you could see how Chad would have felt given the limited information.

You groaned again. How were you supposed to know he even gave a damn about he baby?

“Shit.”

You put your hand on your stomach. He still thought it was just one baby instead of two. Your stomach filled with butterflies at telling him.

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been going through these last weeks thinking that I was the reason you aborted the baby, I was at fault for my own child being–.”

“He gives a damn Sianna,” you said to yourself.

You bit your bottom lip still hearing his voice echo through your head.

Or he gave a damn. The look on his face when he saw Chino and the flowers spoke volumes. He was hurt, angry, jealous, and sad even.

“Oh god, Chino.”

You gripped your head and shook it. You knew he had feelings for you. You knew he wanted more than you gave him. He tried to keep his hands respectful at all times, tried to go as slow as you wanted, but it was clear to you how he felt. You felt bad. Part of you–a really huge part was still pining after Chadwick.

“You shouldn’t have used him as a distraction, Sianna,” you said to yourself.

You knew it while you were doing it. If you start something messy, it will end messy, but it wasn’t all a distraction. You were beginning to like Chino. He was a good guy, and he treated you well. You felt fluttering in your stomach, and you paused, trying to decipher if those were kicks. It felt similar to butterfly wings tapping against your skin, but a little more forceful. You felt the sensation again, and a smile spread across your face. You slowly rubbed your expanding belly adoringly. To think you were going to terminate not too long ago.

Your mind went back to Chadwick. You had his children growing inside you. Two brand new lives that didn’t choose the current situation. Two innocent souls that deserved your best—his too. You took a deep breath and decided to put on your big girl panties. You walked over to your desk and opened the top drawer. You riffled through the papers for the card he’d sent weeks ago after he realized who you were. You found the white card and stared at the note again.

“I’ve been thinking about you and would love to see you. Call me, please; 213-399-2811. Can’t wait to hear from you.”

You smiled, remembering the day you got the flowers and the note. You didn’t call him, one because you were convinced he was screwing your arch nemesis and two you knew if you did you’d end up sleeping with him again. You proved yourself right on several occasions after. You took up your cell and began tapping the numbers in. Once you had the numbers entered your finger hovered over the “call” button. You stared at it and went over the possibilities.

He might not answer; it’s a random number. He might hang up on you once he heard your voice. He might yell and call you all the names in the book—again. He might be happy. You rolled your eyes at the last one because it was unlikely because of how he acted the night before. You were probably enemy number one for him. You sighed and tapped the “call” button. You waited as it rang four times before it went to voicemail. You expected as much. You debated if you should leave a message. What would you say? “Sorry about last night, you weren’t supposed to find out yet, but yeah I’m pregnant, it’s twins.” You shook your head, and the voicemail tone brought you back. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You quickly hung up and slapped yourself in the forehead with the phone.

“You’re an idiot Sianna.”

“Sianna?” You looked up and saw your assistant standing there.

“Yes.” She looked over you and stopped at your stomach. You scoffed.

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yes, I am.”

Her face spread in the fullest, happiest smile you’d ever seen. She rushed to you and hugged you.

“Oh my god, that’s great. Congratulation.”

“It is? Thank you.”

“Yes, babies are blessings, and yours is going to be beautiful.”

You smiled. She was always good for this, making you smile with her sweetness.

“How far along?”

“Uh, fiveish or so months,” you responded.

“I’m so happy for you.”

You nodded and smiled also; you couldn’t help it, her happiness was infectious.

“Eh-em, let’s get down to business,” you said, walking to your seat.

She began giving you the highlights of the last few days, relaying messages. After your meeting was finished, you began to walk the floor. You had to oversee the shipping to the department stores, and you refused to leave it up to anyone else. Your father always said if you want a job done well, you do it yourself; only you know your level of standard. So that’s what you did, you spent hours prepping the orders for the stores. You double and triple checked that the quantity was correct and that each piece of clothing was in its best shape which meant no hanging thread, not one hole, you were very anal about it.

By the time you had a moment to yourself, it was well past lunch. You sat in your office with the door closed, and blinds closed leaning back fully in your reclinable office chair. You took the time to enjoy the silence then your mind went to Chadwick again. You took up your phone and dialed the number again. It rang three times before someone that didn’t sound like him answered.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hello?”

“Yeah, how can I help?”

“Who’s this?”

“This is Tye. Who’s this?”

“Uh, well; why are you answering Chadwick’s phone?”

“I’m his agent. Who are you?”

“Um, my name is Sianna. I was hoping to talk to him.”

“Unfortunately Chadwick is tied up at the moment. He’s doing a photo shoot. I will have him call you back. Is this about business? If so, you should be talking to me.”

“No, not business. It’s personal.”

Tye didn’t speak for a few moments.

“Okay. I’ll have him return your call.”

He hung up after that. You looked at your phone, finding it strange. You shrugged it off. You closed your eyes and sunk back into the comfort of the chair. You felt a dull throb at your tailbone and arched your back trying to stretch it out. From what you read, this pain would get worse as your pregnancy went on. You read those carrying multiples felt it more. You groaned and quickly drifted to sleep.

The rest of the day went by in a whirl and a haze. It was a busy one spent prepping all the distribution orders; in total you had over two hundred orders that went out. The rest of the week, you had to send out the same number if you would meet your self imposed deadline of fourteen hundred. While it was a busy day, you took note that there were no calls from Chadwick or Chino.

When you made it home, you decided to push all man worries to the side. Hell, you weren’t sure either of them was worth the stress or the headache. You climbed in a bath and allowed the sea salts, oils, and flower petals to work their magic on your muscles and skin. Again as if you hadn’t slept all day, you drifted to sleep. When you woke up, the fragrant water was cold, and the candles you’d laid around the bathroom were burned out. You climbed out of the water and wrapped in your favorite robe.

You passed a clock and saw it was almost one in the morning. You were tempted to forgo your nighttime routine and just topple in the bed and fall back to sleep but knew your hair would hate you and in the morning your skin would be as thirsty as the cement on a scorching summer day. So you fought off the exhaustion and lotioned your skin with the blend of Shea, and mango butter concoction you made. You didn’t trust your skin to just any skincare company. From when you learned to make products you’d been doing it. You smelled the jar and moaned as the lavender, rosehip, Orange blossom, and lemon aromas hit your nose. You took the time to lotion every inch of your skin, especially your stomach. While you had a few across your backside, you didn’t anywhere else, but you’d also read of stretch marks pregnant women got, and you were not looking forward to them.

Once you finished, you lied in bed ready to fall into the deepest sleep of your life but your phone rang. You groaned remembering you’d left it in the living room.

“Who the fuck is calling at one in the morning?”

You debated if you really needed to answer it, after a quick back and forth with your work ethic you stifled it and closed your eyes. You were tired. The ringing stopped, and all was quiet again until a few moments later it began ringing again. You groaned again, angrily flung the covers to the side, and climbed out the bed. As you walked to the living room, your bitch face was painted on. You grabbed the phone and answered without looking at the ID.

“What!?”

Silence. You kissed your teeth, reaching a new level of annoyance.

“Jesus Christ!” You pinched your nose bridge trying to soothe the annoyance a little.

“Sianna?” Chadwick said. You opened your eyes, shock filling you.

“Hello? Sianna? Are you there?”

“Ehm, yes, I’m here.”

Silence.

You chewed your bottom lip, your nerves taking over. You could practically hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“I heard from Tye you called,” Chadwick said.

“Yes, yes, I did way earlier.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

Silence, this one wasn’t as long though before he began speaking again.

Actually, you know what I’m not sorry. It’s just I wasn’t going to call you back—at all. I was just going to—ignore the message. Then I thought you’re pregnant and something could be wrong, or you needed my help with something and I—I couldn’t not—call you back,” he explained

You sighed and tried not to take offense. He was only calling you back because he thought you were hurt. You dropped into your couch, feeling disappointed and hurt.

“So are you okay? Are you hurt? Is the baby okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I’m not hurt, everything is fine,” you answered.

“Okay, so good. I’m gonna–,” he trailed off.

“Chad wait–,”

He sighed out, and you could hear his impatience.

“For what Sianna?”

“So we can talk. I called so we can talk.”

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about unless it’s about that baby you’re carrying. Wait, I can’t keep up today, do you still have a baby in there?”

“Of course there is—,”

You sighed and rubbed your forehead.

“You’re right; we have a lot to talk about regarding this pregnancy. Right now I’m too exhausted to think or control my smart mouth so right now will not work. Tomorrow.”

Silence. You were getting tired of his silence. After a few moments almost a minute he sighed again.

“Fine. Where? The park, same spot?”

Your head instantly flew back to your rendezvous in the park next to the lake. The hairs on your arms immediately stood up, remembering how he touched you, kissed you, pleased you. Before you could stop it, a groan escaped your lips.

Silence.

“How about the pier, Santa Monica,” you suggested.

“Santa Monica?”

“It’s out of the heart of LA and private, I’m sure paparazzi is a problem for you,” you explained.

You bite your bottom lip waiting for him to answer, hoping he said yes.

“Fine. What time?”

“Not early please lately I can barely keep my eyes open. Noon?”

“Fine. Good night.”

With that, Chadwick hung up. You pulled the phone from your ear and looked at it. while part of you felt he was being unfair, the other part of you felt like he was treating you justly. You did lie to him about the pregnancy, technically two times. You were found with another man coming to your home at a time that spoke of intimacy. Yes, he didn’t own you, and you didn’t owe him shit, you could admit it looked suspicious. You sighed again and made your way back to your bedroom to attempt to fall into that deep sleep you needed.

**********

-Santa Monica-

The drive to the pier was almost as stressful as the drive to the park to tell him you were pregnant. For this trip, he already knew. This trip was to tell him you were pregnant with twins and to apologize for lying about the abortion — nothing else.

As you pulled into the pier parking lot, you stared yourself in the eye in the rearview mirror.

“Nothing else Sianna, nothing else!”

You parked and got out of your car. You walked to the pier, and it felt like you were walking to the marching squad. You looked around and noted it was wide open. There was no way you were going to have sex with him. You breathed a breath of relief before you saw him. He stood all the way at the bottom of the pier looking out to the horizon. God, he looked good, you thought. Your eyes raked over his figure and took new appreciation for how God crafted the black man. His frame looked built for protecting, built to withstand any obstacle thrown his way; he looked as if God kept in mind firmness and strength when he created him. As your eyes dropped to his backside, you sunk your top teeth into your bottom lip. It was sinful the reaction you had to this man.

“It’s hormones, that’s it,” you whispered to yourself knowing you were full of shit. It had always been this way since you laid eyes on him in Jamaica.

As if sensing you approaching, he turned and watched you close the distance between you. You noted the hard expression on his face and the coldness in his eyes. That was new, you thought to yourself before coming to a stop before him. Neither of you spoke, you just stared at each other. After nearly a minute, Chadwick looked down to his feet.

“So?”

You cleared your throat and walked closer to the railing and leaned on it. You looked out over the vast ocean and took a deep breath. You felt calmer and waited a few more minutes, hoping your courage would build. When you didn’t speak, you heard Chadwick release an exasperated breath.

“Sianna—,”

“I’m sorry. I am really sorry,” you blurted out. He looked at you then back to the ocean, but you saw the clench in his jaw.

“Sorry, huh. Sorry for what?”

“You know for what.”

“I don’t. It seems you’ve done several things that would warrant an apology — for starters thinking the worst of me from seeing me at your fashion show, assuming and pretty much calling me a liar just because of my associations. Waiting weeks, nearly months before telling me you were pregnant despite seeing me several times and having several chances. Lying to me about having an abortion. Keeping the fact you remained pregnant from me for weeks. Jesus, does that about sum it up?”

You stood there wanting to object to everything he said but you couldn’t because he was right. You did do all of those things. The one thing he didn’t mention was you dating Chino; you wondered if he didn’t really care about that or if he intentionally kept it off the list. You looked at him.

“You’ve been lying since damn near the minute we met,” Chadwick accused.

“I have not. The only lies I told were about the pregnancy, that’s it. Everything else was real.”

He looked at you and kept eye contact with you; he looked as if he were scanning your eyes for any sign of a lie. He wouldn’t find one because you were being gut-wrenchingly honest.

“Jamaica was real, Barbados was real, the club, the park—it was all real Chad.”

He sniffed, looked away, and rested his elbows on the railing, and stared out to the ocean. Several more moments passed in silence.

“You’re right though, I have lied about a lot of things about the pregnancy, and I am truly sorry for that.”

“Why did you lie?”

“I was terrified Chad, like seriously terrified. I went on vacation to kick back before the storm, and you happened. I come back and bam I’m pregnant. I didn’t expect it, plan it, or want it. I was scared for so many reasons I can’t even begin to explain. I didn’t know what I wanted to do or what I was supposed to do. Then I was so furious at you for the things you said to me, and how you acted, I was hurt, and I saw red, and before I knew it, I’d said it.”

You didn’t dare look at him; you kept your eyes glued to the water and tried to allow the swaying of the waves to calm your rising anxieties. He didn’t speak, but you felt his eyes on you.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Sianna. I wasn’t thinking at all. I’m ashamed of the way I acted, the things I said–,” Chadwick trailed off, lowering his head in shame.

“I was not raised to be that man, and I’m sorry.”

You looked at him and held his gaze. You saw the sincerity in his words and knew he meant the apology. Standing beside him, you felt your body’s want to get closer to him. You felt the need your body still had for him, and while it was tempting to give in to the need, you knew you shouldn’t. You bit your bottom lip and watched as his eyes dropped to your mouth. His expression changed to one you recognized, one you were familiar with because you spent an entire night with that expression. After a few moments, Chadwick cleared his throat and stepped back, creating more space between your bodies. You tried not to feel anything about it, but the hint of rejection was unrelenting. In an effort to break free from it, you cleared your throat and looked back to the ocean.

“So um, do you need a DNA test?”

He sighed out but didn’t hesitate.

“No.”

You looked at him and studied the side of his face.

“Why not? A few weeks ago you brought it up—,”

“I know it’s mine. I don’t need to test it to be certain.”

You were impressed and kind of touched. You expected him to be gung-ho about a DNA test, so this was unexpected. You nodded and looked back to the water and allowed an anxious silence to fall between you again. You wondered what he was thinking and why he was so quiet. No doubt he had a lot going on in his head but so did you. There was so much to say, so much to figure out.

“Ah, before you keep saying “it,” there is one more thing,” you began.

Chadwick looked at you with a confused expression ten turned his body to face you fully. You took a deep breath and turned to him as well. His eyes dropped to your stomach, and he stared at it.

“There are two babies, twins.”

His face slowly sparked with emotion, first shock then horror and back to shock before he finished off with a look that placed a small smile on his lips. He looked to your face then back to your stomach and back and forth several times.

“Tw—twins? You’re sure?”

“Oh yeah very sure, doctor and ultrasound confirmed.”

“Wow. Are you—are they?”

“Yes, we’re all fine.”

“Do you know the sex?”

You shook your head.

“Not yet, hasn’t been the time yet.”

He nodded and looked shocked again. You knew it was a lot to wrap your head around. You’d gone through these emotions before.

“Wow, I can’t believe any of this. A few months ago my biggest concern was trying not to be typecasted after Black Panther, and now there’s this.”

You looked down and felt as if you were burdening him.

“Look, I don’t mean for this to be a burden to you. That is the last thing I want. I don’t want you to feel as if you’re obligated to do anything concerning these babies or me. I just—you had a right to know.”

He looked at you with a blank expression then looked back out to sea.

“Are you saying that you don’t want me involved? You don’t want me to be a part of their lives?”

The fact that he said “their” lives and not “your” life was not lost on you. You heard it and although it hurt a little you understood. You didn’t know anything about each other except the frivolous stuff, and you’d lied to him for the last five weeks at least. You got it.

“I’m saying that I don’t need you to be if you would rather not be. I a good life, a good career, I make good money, I have amazing friends and family and I can more than take care of them on my own. I don’t need anything from you that you wish not to give. So, it boils down to the decision being yours,” you explained trying to tiptoe on the eggshells you felt this conversation to be.

“Thank you for telling me all about what you don’t need. What do you want? Do you want me involved or not?”

Damn, checkmate. You didn’t know, and that was the honest to god truth. You didn’t know if you wanted him anywhere near this pregnancy or the babies’ lives. Now that may make you a bitch or a horrible person, but that was where you were. As if he sensed your answer, he looked down and nodded again.

“I don’t know. I’m just getting used to the idea of the pregnancy as a whole and what the next eighteen to twenty years of my life are going to look like. I just haven’t thought about anything else.”

He fell silent again. You thought you’d offended him and upset the mellowness of this meet and regretted opening your mouth.

“What do you want?”

You were afraid to hear his answer. It could have been anything, he could say take you to court for custody, or never see your face again. You didn’t know which response made you more nervous. You couldn’t believe life was throwing you this massive curveball for nothing. There had to be a reason, a purpose for all of this.

“I don’t know. This is sudden. A few weeks ago, it tore me up that you’d gotten an abortion, straight made me sick to my stomach that I was the reason I’d never meet my own flesh and blood and I was upset with myself. I really was. But you’re still pregnant, and the possibility is there, and it’s terrifying. Yeah, I wanted a family in life at some point. I wanted to be more established and settled and secure than I currently am, but I guess life had other plans. So being faced with it now there’s so much,” he finished.

Again, you understood completely. There was no way he could answer anything with all this information being so fresh.

“Seems like we both have a lot of thinking to do.”

You nodded.

“Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“Thank you for apologizing.”

“Thank you for not kicking me in the nuts; I may have deserved it.”

You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, that and so much more.”

Chadwick snorted, and you smiled and looked at him just at the same time he looked at you. You both stared at each other for several long moments, and you felt the same way you did in Jamaica that first night you saw him. The night that started everything. You wondered if he was thinking about the same thing you were. Was he reminiscing about the first time he saw you, touched you, felt your body on his, kissed you? Was he daydreaming about the night these babies were most likely conceived? He bit his bottom lip, and your attention went right to them. It had been so long since you’d tasted his lips. So long since you’d smelled the unique scent your bodies created together. How was it possible to want one man this much you asked yourself? How was it possible to be so angry and hurt by someone but also want to be near them, be with them? It was infuriating. Chadwick looked away and cleared his throat loudly.

“I have to make it back to LA.”

You nodded and stepped back. You hadn’t even realized your body drifted closer to his like a magnet attracting you.

“Yeah, so I’ll uh keep in touch about things,” you announced.

“Thank you.”

“And don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me,” you cornily joked as you rubbed your burgeoning belly. As soon as the words escaped you, you groaned.

“Wow, that was horrible,” you whispered.

“Nah, not horrible. Corny, but not horrible,” he teased. You smiled and probably blushed. You then began walking down the boardwalk with Chadwick instep with you.

You smiled to yourself and tried to not feel like a schoolgirl. Once you made it to the parking lot, Chadwick pointed to the right, and you pointed to the left. He followed you to the car and opened your door for you. This was the man you remembered. You slid in the driver’s seat and grunted. He shut the door and smiled at you again before he waved and walked to his car. As you watched him go, you breathed out.

“Platonic Sianna, platonic.”

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#animal fic #Chadwick Boseman #chadwick boseman x you #chadwick boseman x reader #chadwick boseman x black reader #chadwick x you #chadwick x reader #chadwick boseman smut #chadwick boseman fanfiction #angst fanfic #Slow Burn Fic #black fanfiction #chadwick boseman x ofc

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sweetheartjeongguk · 6 years ago

Text

salvation (m)

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: zombie apocalypse au, e2l au, smut, angst, fluff

rating: nc-17

warning(s): mentions of blood and gore, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, brief mentions of vomit

word count: 7.1k+

summary: it’s a wonder what six months can entail, especially amidst a zombie apocalypse.

masterlist

When you were 13 years old, you told your mother that you would never like Min Yoongi even if you were the last two people on Earth.

She must be rolling around in laughter in her grave at your present situation - stuck in a dirty, abandoned motel room with your arch nemesis.

“Stop touching me.”

“I’m not even touching you.”

“Then what’s on my foot?”

“It’s probably that rat I saw earlier.”

“What?!”

Correction: your entire family are probably laughing their asses off as they watch you jump a hundred feet in the air while smacking at your ankle at the nonexistent rodent. Yoongi’s eyes are closed, but the smug smirk on his face says it all.

“Oh, you must think you’re so funny, don’t you?” You sneer, wincing slightly when you lean on your other leg for balance.

While the injury from six months ago has healed up completely, leaving behind a thin scar, your leg hasn’t been the same since.

“Oh, I know so.” Yoongi doesn’t even open his eyes.

He just keeps his arms crossed his chest, head nestled in the hard-as-rock motel pillows while his body is protected from the uncomfortable draft with the scratchy blankets.

“Lay down, you’re giving me anxiety.” Yoongi grumbles. “Your leg’s gonna get worse.”

“Why do you care?” You scoff, still standing a good three feet from your side of the bed.

“I don’t.” He opens his eyes, squinting tiredly at your figure swaying from side to side. “More room for myself then. Enjoy the floor, I’m sure the rat is happy to share.”

To this day, you’ve kept to your word. Now that you and Yoongi are the last two people on Earth, you’re 100% sure that you don’t like him.

There are many reasons why you hate Min Yoongi, but there are three that you hate the most.

First off, he’s a know-it-all asshole. During your junior year of high school, you were practicing your presentation for AP Biology when he came bounding in your living room and proceeded to pick apart your essay while laughing his ass off with your brother. He just watched as you brushed past him and your brother in tears with a sodden copy of your essay on DNA replication in your trembling hands.

Secondly, he’s the pickiest man to ever roam the planet. Even after you escaped from a horde of the undead just an hour before, he still found time to go through every single room of the abandoned motel and took nearly half an hour testing the springiness of the mattresses. You nearly had an aneurysm each time you dragged your bags into the room only for the man to say “Nope, too stiff!” or “Hmm, too itchy!” or his ultimate favorite “Let’s be honest, can we see each other in here?”

Last but not least, Min Yoongi cares for no one but himself. Even after the world went to shit and it came down to just you and Yoongi, you know the look in his eyes whenever you catch him looking at you. He didn’t want to be here, same as you. If he didn’t want to spend even five minutes in the same room as you when you were teenagers, you don’t doubt for a second that he regrets his decision to stay with you for the rest of your indefinite future.

In his eyes, you’re just the annoying little sister of his high school best friend. In your eyes, he’s the dickhead who would eat all your Hot Cheetos you stored away in a specific place in the kitchen pantry and brag about his college hookups and drunk episodes with your brother while you��re still in the room.

You glare at his back when the darkness of the motel room settles in. “I hope the rat bites your dick off in your sleep.”

“Kinky. Now, shut up and go to sleep.”

The next morning is no better than the night before. You end up sleeping on the small couch in the corner of the room near the front room, your upper body twisted in an odd pretzel shape while your legs hung off the arm. The amusement on Yoongi’s face when he wakes you up with a single shove to the shoulder is blatantly obvious, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“Get up, they’re gone now. Probably got distracted by some other poor guy outside.” Yoongi mutters as he grabs his backpack from underneath the bed. “Wash up a little before we leave, you’re looking a little crusty and smelling a little musty.”

You send him a dark glare. “Sorry for not smelling like sunshine and roses in the fucking zombie apocalypse. Next time, I’ll be sure to stop by Bath and Body Works later.”

Yoongi mirrors your unimpressed look but says nothing else as he watches you trudge forward and lock yourself in the bathroom to freshen up. To your luck, the entire plumbing system has gone to crap - both literally and metaphorically - so instead, you rely on your several bottled waters in your backpack and the miniscule amount of toothpaste and soap left to wash up and brush your teeth.

“There she is, Miss Universe 20-whatever the fuck year it is.” Yoongi drawls sarcastically when you finally exit the bathroom, slightly freshened up and smelling like mint and the cheap motel soapbar left in the shower cubby.

“Let’s just get the fuck out here.” You brush past to open the door, but you’re instantly stopped by Yoongi’s hand that prevents you from it fully swinging open.

“Are you fucking insane? Where’s your weapon?” Yoongi berates you, eyes searching your body for the pocket knife that you usually carry on you. “Didn’t your brother teach you not to open shit if you’re not sure what’s on the other side?”

“You just told me that they’re gone, so what?” You hiss, attempting to pull the door open again, but Yoongi’s a lot stronger than you think. “Let. Go.”

“I’m going first.” You let out a “Hey!” when he pushes you away with a small shove. “Get your knife out and stay behind me.”

It’s a good thing that Yoongi’s completely focused on peeking around the door for stray zombies or else he wouldn’t be so pleased at the number of mouthed curses and grimaces you send at the back of his head.

“Come on.” He nods forward, and you follow behind with your knife grasped firmly in your palm.

“Where to next, Min?” You yawn as you begin your journey down the road, twisting your neck from side to side in an attempt to rid your body of its soreness.

“I’m not sure yet.” He answers shortly. “Last time I checked, there’s nothing really around here. Just a bunch of cabins and trees.”

“Should we try to find a cabin then? Safer bet if we want some food and shelter.” You suggest, but you’re not surprised when Yoongi shakes his head.

“They’re probably occupied or swarming with crawlies.” Yoongi scoff. “We’re better off on the road.”

“Or we could just take out the dead and then take over the house.” You add, getting a little too excited over the idea of a warm cabin with semi-clean sheets and the possibility of food. “Or maybe if there’s people, we could-”

“I said no.” Yoongi snaps, sending you a sharp glare. “Can you listen for once?”

You feel your chest sting. “It’s just a suggestion.”

“Well, you need to wake up and understand that no one is going to help us out here. It’s time to put your fantasies aside or else we’re going to end up getting killed all because of your suggestion.”

“And yours is any better? Walking around aimlessly until we may or may not find something.” You grit your teeth. “Sure, that’s a much better idea.”

“For a girl whose life was saved by me on multiple occasions, you sure love to act like an ungrateful child.” Yoongi scoffs. “What would your brother think?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?!” You bellow. “He’s fucking gone, just like everyone else. But you wouldn’t care because all you care is about you and your large fucking ego.”

Your shout echos through the trees, sending birds flying out of their nests in fear. Yoongi stops in his tracks and stares back at you, ignoring your tear-filled eyes and quivering bottom lip. It’s not the first time you’ve snapped on him for being a complete dickhead, but this is the first time since you joined his one-man survival group that you’ve mentioned anything about your brother and your family.

He knows how much your family meant to you and how devastated you were when they were slowly picked off one by one, your brother being the last one to go. It had been the week before Yoongi found you with your leg caught in a barbed wire fence after you were running away from a horde that ambushed you on your way to your friend’s house in hopes that they were still alive. He never asked about what happened to him, and you never mentioned why you were alone.

The two of you aren’t friends, and you both know better than to act like you are.

“Let’s just go.” Yoongi sighs in defeat.

He starts walking away, gripping onto the straps of his backpack with one hand with the other hovering over the gun tucked away in his jeans. He shrugs off the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, marking it off as nerves from yesterday. It isn’t until a few minutes later when he notices the lack of footsteps behind him that he turns around and is greeted with an empty stretch of road.

“Y/N?” His voice is barely a whisper, but he feels as though he’s shouting out to the sky.

“Y/N, I’m not kidding, where the fuck are you?” Yoongi calls out again, a nervous stutter threatening to build up in his throat.

He’s met with silence. Fury builds up inside of him as he dashes down the road with his gun clutched tightly in his right hand. Sure, you could say dumb stuff and do something incredibly stupid from time to time, but you weren’t that idiotic to go off by yourself but nothing but a flimsy pocket knife and two days’ worth of food.

Weren’t you?

Running off by yourself with practically nothing to protect yourself with isn’t the smartest idea, but here you are, wandering down a dirt road with no map or guide to show the way to civilization - well, anything resembling civilization.

The rageful annoyance that coursed through your body half an hour ago has dissipated into a dull ache in the center of your chest - a constant reminder of the pain that brought you to where you are today. You were quick to think that Yoongi was a complete asshole for mentioning your brother like that, but in the end, you know that he was right.

What would your brother think?

“You know, you could say hi to him every once and a while when he comes over.” You ignore the voice at the entrance of your bedroom as you continue pouring over your homework. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice for a millisecond.”

“He annoys me.”

“You’ve only talked to him once.”

“And that was enough for me.”

Your brother sighs. You expect him to close your door and leave you be like all the other times he came to confront you about Yoongi, but you’re unpleasantly surprised when he pulls up the chair from your computer desk and plops down in front of you without a care in the world.

“Listen to me, Yoongi’s not a bad guy once you get to know him. I know he teases you a lot, but he only does that to his friends or people he likes.”

“We’re not friends.” You frown.

“Well then, maybe he likes you.”

“Ugh, gross!”

Your brother cackles at the disgusted grimace that contorts your face. “Just give it a couple years, and you won’t mind.”

You’ve never taken your brother’s words to heart. Even if they were as close as they were, you hardly believe that someone like Min Yoongi would ever like you platonically or romantically. As an angsty teen, you liked to think that Yoongi was a robot created by the government to learn how to act like a human, therefore magically explaining his lack of emotion and general unpleasantness around you.

Whenever you would go off on your daily Yoongi rants, your brother would pinch you on your shoulder with a roll of his eyes.

“Trust me, Yoongi is anything but. You’ll see.”

Oh, you’d definitely like to see that.

It’s been an hour, and you’ve gotten nowhere. There’s an urge to turn back and hope that you end up meeting Yoongi halfway, but you’ve been making too many U-turns and criss-crosses that you aren’t too sure that you’re on the same road anymore.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You mutter up to the sky, hoping that somewhere, your brother is watching and is nice enough to lead you back on your path.

In reality, he’s probably shaking his head along with your parents and praying that you don’t make another dumb decision that ends up with you joining him in the afterlife.

“Yoongi?” You whisper sharply, silently hoping that the quiet wind carries your voice to him. A long shot, but still worth a try. “Yoongi, are you there?”

Snap.

You twist your head in the direction of the noise. “Yoongi?”

No response. Your heart starts to race out of control, and you curse yourself as you slowly begin to hyperventilate.

Breathe, stupid bitch!

Another twig breaks in the distance. You begin shuffling backwards, holding back the urge to simultaneously shit, piss, and throw up everywhere. This is your karma, isn’t it? Maybe Yoongi isn’t a robot at all but is, in fact, a powerful wizard who’s cursed you to die a most painful death.

Well, you’re certainly a second away from finding out the truth.

Once you hear a louder crunch of leaves and branches, you book it, not caring if your footsteps make an even louder noise and attracts every bloodthirsty creature in the woods to come after you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, why did I do this?” You try to catch your breath while running for your life, but you’ve never been great at multitasking.

Sure enough, the low groaning and bone-numbing shrieks behind you tell you everything you need to know - you’re going to die today, and it’s completely your fault.

Tears stream down in thick rivulets as you continue running, ignoring the sharp stinging pain that shoots through your bad leg. It wobbles with every step you take, and you just know that you’re about to call it and give yourself up once your leg gives out.

But once you start dropping to the floor, you’re surprised that there are arms to catch you before you could hit the asphalt.

For once in your life, you’ve never been so happy to see Min Yoongi’s face, even if it’s full of fiery anger.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Yoongi practically screams. “You’re lucky you’re not fucking dead! What are you-”

Yoongi yelps when you pull him into a tight embrace. You’re sobbing loudly, snot and spit dripping down your face like nobody’s business. Yoongi gulps awkwardly, wrapping his stiff arms around your waist before retracting quickly and pushing you away. He’s quick to motion to your snotty face in disgust.

“Wipe your face, and let’s go!” Yoongi pulls you up by the crook of your elbow. “I’m trying not to die today. How about you?”

Instead of sprinting down the road, Yoongi cuts across into the woods with you in tow, cringing as his feet stomp noisily on the ground below. You’re definitely going to attract more undead, but you no longer feel a wave of anxiety anymore.

Instead, you just feel overwhelming relief as Yoongi grabs your hand until you’re neck and neck with him.

“Come on, I saw a building up ahead.” Yoongi grunts breathily.

There’s no time to argue. You simply follow Yoongi’s lead and hold onto your pocket knife for dear life. All you could focus on are the sounds of your heart thumping closer to a heart attack and the rushing blood in your ears, but the jarring sound of a zombie mob becomes even more deafening.

“Up here!” You cry when you notice the white stone building ahead, a door just within your reach.

Yoongi grabs the door knob with both hands and pulls with all his might. Your heart stops for a second when it doesn’t budge, but one more yank and the door’s groaning open.

“In, in!” Yoongi all but shoves you forward, promptly slamming the door shut and bolting it shut.

For extra measure, the two of you shove a nearby shelf in front of the door. You pray that it won’t end up biting you in the ass later in case you need to make a quick escape, but the sight before you vanishes the thought immediately.

“Oh. My. God.”

First, it’s a disbelieved chuckle. Then, it’s a noticeable giggle. After that, it’s full-on cackling until your sides hurt and your eyes burn with tears.

Out of all the places you and Yoongi could wander into by mistake, you manage to hole yourself up in a supermarket. Semi-trashed and looted, but a supermarket all the same.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it.” You wheeze, leaning forward with your hands on your knees as you try and catch your breath. “You practically brought us to the zombie apocalypse promise land.”

Yoongi chuckles. It’s weird to see another emotion other than annoyance or disgust (emotions thanks to yours truly), but you don’t mind it.

Going by the warmth spreading through your veins and the unconscious smile that ticks up your lip, you certainly don’t mind it.

“Check the doors and windows.” Yoongi suggest, pointing to one direction of the store. “You start there, I’ll be over here. Let me know if you find anything.”

After a quick search to make sure there were no walking carcasses hanging around the store waiting for a bite of your flesh, you meet back in the middle.

“We can practically live here forever.” You exclaim, your voice carrying across the floor. “This is literally the dream life, and we’re living it.”

“Do you really want to spend the rest of your days stuck in a grocery store with me?” Yoongi asks sardonically.

You shrug. “I guess I wouldn’t mind.”

It’s quiet. You’re still surveying the store with your eyes, gaping at the rows of foods and alcohol practically whispering your name. You fail to register Yoongi’s expression - blown out pupils, hanging jaw, flushed red cheeks.

“I’ll be right back.” You singsong as you disappear into one of the aisles.

Yoongi has time to shake himself back into reality when you finally come back with a shopping cart filled with cereal, canned soups, and bottles upon bottles of alcohol.

“I’ve always wanted Captain Crunch with vodka in the morning.” Yoongi jokes, picking up the clear bottle of Grey Goose. “Brings back good ol’ college memories.”

“Nothing screams a balanced breakfast diet like sugary cereal past its expiration date and alcoholic potato water.” You grin teasingly.

Yoongi goes to retort, but he closes his mouth as he watches you crack open a bottle and chug it down like it’s water. He laughs to himself - he should probably tell you that it’s a better idea to drink water and eat something first before drowning yourself in alcohol.

To each their own.

“Want some?” You hiccup as you break free for a breather. “Tastes like rubbing alcohol and death.”

“Two of my favorite things.” Yoongi accepts the bottle, taking a moderate sip unlike your atrocious glugging.

It’s going to be an interesting night.

Yoongi’s dealt with prepubescent you, he’s dealt with emo high schooler you who was obsessed with spoken word poetry and had a goth boyfriend for one semester of your sophomore year. Hell, he’s even dealt with college freshman you who practically lived, breathed, and slept homework even during holiday breaks.

But Yoongi can’t say that he’s had to deal with drunk, adult baby you. Well, until now.

“I still don’t know where he went though, he just went off and vanished.” You slur, back pressed against the cold tile of the supermarket wall and butt seated on the hard linoleum floor. “Mr. Fluffers...you are missed.”

Yoongi giggles drunkenly. For the past hour, you’ve been ranting about your childhood pet, Mr. Fluffers, and the utterly tragic story of how he ran away when you were seven years old. Since then, you’ve never had another pet, still traumatized by the sudden disappearance of your beloved.

Yoongi laughs because he’s heard this story from your brother. It turns out that your father accidentally left the cage open when he was cleaning it out and forgot to close it again for the night. When he found the next morning, he decided that the best way to cover up his tracks was to give you a complete bullshit story about Mr. Fluffers returning home to his wife and kids in their home in the forest.

“We lived in the city, where the fuck was Mr. Fluffers gonna go?” You grumble, taking another swig of the half empty vodka bottle.

“Well, he must be in a better place now.” Yoongi offers.

“Define better place.” You shake your head. “Everywhere’s a piece of shit. Name me one good thing left in this world, I dare you.”

Yoongi hums to himself, putting on a thoughtful look while even stroking an invisible moustache. You roll your eyes playfully until he finally gives you his answer.

“You.”

You have the urge to smack him on the knee and shout out “Good one, you dick.” The look on his face stops you before you reach over and hit his leg. Never in your life have you seen Yoongi’s eyes glisten before, features softened and wilted like a beautiful dying flower.

“You’re ridiculous.” You hiccup a laugh. You go to grab the vodka bottle from his hand, but his reflexes are still faster than yours.

“I’m serious.” Yoongi replies gently, contrasting his hardened expression. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“Uh, because you’re you?” Yoongi frowns. You sigh to yourself. “Yoongi, for most of my adolescent and adult lives, you’ve done nothing but taunt me and be mean to me. You just tolerated me because you were friends with my brother, but...that’s it. That’s all I am to you.”

“That’s not true.” His cheeks twitch before settling into another serious look. “Fuck, that’s beyond the truth.”

“Then, what is the truth?”

You wait patiently as Yoongi drags a hand through his hair, entangling his fingers in the messy tufts. He looks extremely conflicted which prompts to open your mouth to tell him that it’s okay, but he beats you to the punch.

“I’ve never hated you, not even once. I mean, how could I? You’re so fucking perfect in every way, shape, and form. You’re smart, kind, beautiful, and funny. God, the amount of times I had to pull myself together whenever you walked in the room. Your brother probably thought I was constipated every time I came to visit.”

You want to laugh with him, but it’s as if the muscles in your face have been glued together. All you can do is sit back and listen in awe as Yoongi goes into a drunken ramble.

“Your brother could already sense that I liked you, but he didn’t say anything. Probably because he wanted me to look like a fool most of the time. I did that a lot, haven’t I?” Yoongi glances down at the tops of his knees, simply interested in the spare thread dangling from the rip in his jeans. “I don’t expect you to believe me or even like me back. Hell, you’re better off that way. It’s just that I l-”

Yoongi’s speech is interrupted when you press your lips against his. Your lips are both chapped, and you both taste of vodka and stale breakfast cereals, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Your hand draws closer to Yoongi, slowly making its way up the firm plane of his chest to the side of his face. He draws you closer with his hands on your waist, and you’re too out of your mind to pull back and think clearly.

All you know is that you wanted this. You wanted him.

“You feel so nice.” Yoongi whispers, his breath caressing against your lips before he nudges them apart with his. You let out a whimper when the tip of his tongue brushes against yours.

“God, why am I such an idiot?” Yoongi moves to lightly kiss against the column of your throat, stopping to lick the skin and suckle a mark across the surface. “All this time, I could have had you in my arms like this.”

Pulling back to stare back into your equally fucked-out expression, he seems to hold you tighter.

“All this time, I could have been fucking your tight, little pussy instead of dreaming about it.”

Yoongi smirks when you hold back an obvious whimper, squeezing your thighs together as your heated center throbs in want. His hands smooth down the back of your shirt and to your hips until they reach your back of your jeans. You whine in surprise when they round back to land two firm smacks to your bottom.

“Does my baby girl like that?” Yoongi teases lowly. “She’s so desperate to have me touch her, but little baby’s too shy to admit it.”

You have the urge to shove your hands in your face and shield yourself away, but Yoongi brings you closer to his chest, still grasping the globes of your ass in a firm grip.

“What do you want me to do, hm?” Yoongi whispers, peppering tiny kisses on your face. A soft gesture for such obscene intentions. “I really want to be inside you, but I kinda want to taste you first. What do you think?”

You barely have the courage to answer him. His words bring a violent flush to your face, and you begin stammering your words. Yoongi saves you by placing his index to your wobbly lips.

“Suck.”

You spoke too soon.

You pout against his fingertip, but the determined look on his face tells you that he isn’t fucking around - at least not yet. True to his request, you draw the finger into your mouth, enclosing the digit in the wet heat of your mouth. You begin a back-and-forth movement, unable to keep your eyes on Yoongi’s as you practically fuck your mouth on his hand.

“O-Oh, fuck, that’s sexy.” Yoongi groans, the sensation of your mouth on his skin building up a different kind of heat in his body. He knows that if you keep this up, he’ll end up coming in his pants instead of inside you.

“Sit back, baby.” Yoongi plucks his finger out of your mouth.

Ignoring your cute face when he pulls away from you, he drags you closer once you lay flat on the floor. You’d normally feel grossed out, but you’re too far gone to care about where Yoongi had you. All you know is that you needed him inside you right now.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” Yoongi holds back his juvenile excitement as he tugs your pants down along with your panties. He’s greeted by a small tuft of curly hair and sleek wetness - the vision of complete perfection. “God, you’re so fucking wet, I need to taste you right now.”

You barely have enough time to prepare yourself when Yoongi pushes your thighs apart and dives in, tongue licking up your dripping folds and mouth forming a tight suction around your swollen clit. It’s hard not to rock against his face and grind your slit against his tongue, but once he notices your growing dilemma, he drapes his arm across your front and holds you firmly to the ground. Endless streams of moans and whimpers leave your mouth as Yoongi continues to suck, indulging in your sweet wetness.

“I-I’m so c-close.” You bite your lip, a hand trailing down to grip onto his hair. “P-Please fuck me.”

“What was that?” Yoongi tugs on your clit for a bit before replacing it with his thumb, rubbing half-circles around the nub. “I couldn’t hear you, baby. You have to speak louder if you want to get what you want.”

“I-I want you inside me. I-I want your fucking cock now.”

“Why didn’t you just say so?” Yoongi chuckles devilishly.

If you were in your right mind, you’d have no problem replying with a snarky comment. Right now, your brain feels as though it’s filled with millions of fuzzies, sending your ears ringing as you fall closer into your approaching climax.

“P-Please, baby, hurry.” You surprise both yourself and Yoongi by flipping onto your stomach and pushing your ass up against his lap, drenching the top of his pants with the dribbling wetness of your cunt.

Without wasting anymore time, Yoongi unzips his pants and use the come dripping down your thighs to sleek up his length. Lining himself up, he finally thrusts inside, moving slowly as inch by inch is engulfed by your unbelievably tight pussy.

“O-Oh shit.” Yoongi curses when he finally bottoms out. “Baby, you okay?”

You hold back a sob as Yoongi’s hand tenderly caresses the side of your face. The stretch has been bearable, but having him draped over your back with your cunt wrapped snugly around him is teetering on too much too quickly.

“It’s okay, baby.” Yoongi kisses your cheek - a small but sweet act to comfort your nerves. “God, you feel so good around me.”

You take a few moments to get yourself used to the overwhelming sensation, circling your hips now and then to adjust to his length but stopping every few seconds whenever Yoongi whines in your ear about you being a “fucking tease”.

“You can move.” You whisper almost inaudibly, but Yoongi hears you loud and clear. You go to whisper something else into his ear, but you’re cut off by a loud moan when he pulls out only to slam back, hitting your sweet spot with ease.

“F-Fuck, I love this tight fucking pussy.” Yoongi hisses when you clench down every so often between his rough thrusts. “God, you’re so wet for me. You gonna come for me, princess?”

You simply nod, not having the energy to whimper your answer. You brace yourself on your elbows, your back arched to Yoongi’s liking and the knot in your stomach ready to snap at any moment.

“C-Come…”

“What’s that, baby?” Yoongi breathes.

“C-Come inside…”

You both fall apart together, him relishing in the spasming of your pussy on his cock and you enjoying the warm come filling you up as he continues thrusting slowly until he’s too tired and sensitive to keep up the pace.

“You did so well, baby.” Yoongi sighs as he kisses you again.

He doesn’t stop kissing you until you fall asleep on top of the makeshift sleeping bags on the floor, covered in a mix of your come and sweat.

“Come on, we have to go.”

You blink slowly as the light of the sun peers through an open crack of the blinds. Looking down, you notice that you’re covered in a thin throw blanket that Yoongi must have found in one of the aisles. You smile to yourself, heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

“Yoongi, I-”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I said get dressed and hurry up. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Just like that, your rose-tinted world is shattered.

“W-What?” You’re afraid that if you raise your voice higher, you’ll end up bursting into tears. “Yoongi…”

“I’ll go check around again while you change. Try to be fast, we don’t want to get caught up in another swarm again.”

It’s like you’re talking to a complete stranger. The Min Yoongi you talked with last time and wrapped your arms around as he held you when you sleep is not this man.

No, this man is worse. You’re back to square one, back to silence and obligatory distance.

Robotically, you head into the bathroom and dress yourself in the clothes you found in the $5 section of the supermarket, shedding a few tears as you clean out the remaining come from your body and wipe away any trace of the Yoongi from last night. Your head throbs from your hangover, but nothing compares to the throbbing pain choking you from the inside out.

“Good, you’re finished.” Yoongi nods when he notices you return from the bathroom. He doesn’t even blink when you shove past him to grab your backpack from the ground. “I snagged a couple walkies so we can use that in case we lose each other- What’s so funny?”

Yoongi frowns as he notices you start to laugh.

“Nothing.” You sigh, shaking your head. “Let’s just get out here already.”

You don’t look down, especially when you pass your makeshift sleeping quarters. You don’t need anymore reminders of your mistake, and you know Yoongi doesn’t either.

You continue forward, heart breaking with each step. If only you knew that with every step you take away from him, the more Yoongi wishes to pull you back to him.

“A few months after everything went to shit, I heard from someone that there is supposedly a sanctuary in the next town over. Apparently, some guy and his family just knew something was up and decided to use their house as a welcome center.” Yoongi scoffs. “Don’t know if that makes them stupid or what.”

“Putting blind faith into someone else, hoping that they weren’t like everyone else.” You blurt out, making Yoongi turn his head in surprise at your harsh tone. “I wonder what that feels like.”

“Y/N…” Yoongi starts softly, but you have had enough.

“You’re not obligated to treat me as your friend anymore, Min.” You drone. “Hell, you’re free to leave and do whatever you please. Didn’t stop you when you were in college, shouldn’t stop you now!”

Yoongi frowns. “Y/N, if you would just listen-”

“No!” You spin on your heel. “The last time I did that, I actually thought you were someone else! I thought for once, you didn’t think of just yourself and that for a split second, you actually liked me for me and not because I’m the last remnant of your friendship with my dead brother.”

“No! You-”

“Whatever, I’ve had enough.” You face your back to him. “Let’s just find a place to rest for tonight, okay?”

Yoongi says nothing. With a heavy heart and downturned stare, Yoongi walks beside you in a mechanical fashion. His hand is a mere two inches away, and he wishes to grab your hand, pull you to his chest, and kiss the pain away.

Instead, he shoves his hand inside his coat pocket and avoids eye contact with you, preferring to keep quiet and drown in his thoughts from the night before.

The journey is long and seemingly fruitless, but Yoongi finally spots a motel across the way. How ironic, you think to yourself. Now, you’re truly back at the beginning.

“Let’s settle for the night and regroup tomorrow.” Yoongi opens the door, motioning for you to walk in before him. You ignore him completely as you push through, dropping your bag on the floor and rummaging through for an extra set of clothes and your toothbrush.

“You can take the bed if you want.” Yoongi adds awkwardly. “I know your leg’s been hurting for a whil-”

“I’m fine.” You send back sharply. “You take it, I’ll take the floor.”

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head. “You should-”

“No offense, but who sleeps where is the least of my concerns.” You roll your eyes.

Yoongi wants to argue some more, expertly convince you that you’re more deserving of the bed and its semi-comfortable mattress when it happens.

You should have checked the perimeter before you came in, but your frustration with the man a few feet away occupied the entirety of your thoughts for the entire journey. A loud raspy scream escapes your throat as it launches itself at you, knocking you to the floor and latching its teeth around your arm of your jacket.

“Y/N!”

You nearly call it quits. In a bright flash of light, you nearly decide that it’s it for you, that your time on Earth had been just as limited as two-thirds of the population who fell to the same fate. Grimy blood and dirt coat your face and neck as the creature keeps gnawing away at the fabric of your jacket. You fight to knock it off your body, but he had been a heavy one in his previous life. Despite decomposing at an alarming rate, it’s still carried a portion of his human strength with it.

Whimpering as its bony knee digs into the tender scar on your leg, you attempt to whack against its head to knock it to the side, but you’re beaten to it when a hand darts forward to drive a long blade into its temple. Gushes of blood drip from its skull and onto your face, but you’re still simultaneously relieved when it drops dead - officially dead.

“Ugh, gross.” You wipe the blood off your cheeks with your clean sleeve. “Can this day get any worse?”

It’s when you try to shuffle to your feet that you hear it.

First, it’s a whimper. Then, it’s a choked cry. Then, Yoongi’s crashing into your side and burying his face in your neck, sobs wracking his entire body like an unending earthquake.

“I-I’m so sorry.” Yoongi wails, globs of tears soaking through the collar of your t-shirt. “I love you, please don’t leave me. P-Please!”

You’re shocked into silence. Never in your ten years of knowing Min Yoongi did you ever see him break down into...this. But his tear-smeared face is not what shocks you the most.

“I love you, please don’t leave me.”

“Yoongi…” You try to push him back to look him in the eye, but he refuses to budge.

“I-I know I don’t have much time left, b-but I needed t-to tell you.” Yoongi sniffles, his nose rubbing up against the side of your neck and his arms still in a vice-like hold around your waist. “I c-can’t lose you. Not you, dammit.”

Lose you? Wait…

“Yoongi...look at me.” Yoongi wants to shake his head like a child, but he listens. You would laugh at his face - drenched with tears, dried blood, and snot - but you know it’s not the time or place.

“Honey, what do you mean I don’t have time left?” You ask, a little amused but still full of concern at the sight of his distress.

Yoongi hiccups. “You’re...going to d-die.” His face contorts as though he’s going to break down into more tears,but you shush him.

“Yoongi,” You shake your head with a chuckle. “I’m not dying.”

He furrows his brow. “W-What?”

You lift your arm, showing him the aftermath of the zombie’s bite mark. His face falls even harder at the sight of the blood and torn material.

“Look? It didn’t go through.” You wiggle the arm in front of his face. “I’m fine.”

Yoongi’s face is blank for a moment, and you worry that he’s going to go back to his old self - the same one who left you naked and heartbroken on the floor while he packed his things like nothing even happened.

He doesn’t. Instead, his face crumples again, and he lets out another loud sob.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Yoongi kisses you, uncaring if he gets your whole face wet with his tears. “God, I love you so much. You scared me so much when you went missing. Fuck, I don’t want to lose you again.”

You smile. “You won’t, I promise.”

There are many reasons why you love Min Yoongi, but there are three that you love the most.

First of all, Min Yoongi is a know-it-all asshole. One night when you were scouring through another grocery store on a food run, you argued with him that the food item you had in your hand wasn’t expired but simply “not in its prime” and therefore semi-okay to eat. He was adamant about it being spoiled, but he let you win and watched you take one bite with a teasing grin. Needless to say, he didn’t enjoy holding your hair back while you vomited your guts out of the side of a deserted convenience store.

Secondly, he’s the pickiest man to ever roam the planet.

“Ugh, there are too many options!” He exclaims from his side of the store.

“Just pick one already!” You answer back, not knowing what he’s looking at.

“But it has to be perfect.” You can hear the pout in his voice. “Otherwise, we can’t leave yet.”

“Oh my god, what are you even-” Your voice dies when you finally drag your tired body to his location and realize what he was looking at.

“I told you it has to be perfect.” Yoongi gazes at you, his eyes softened and full of love.

Thankfully, you brought yourself over to him on your own. After all, he needed your help measuring your ring size.

Last but not least, you used to think that Yoongi cared for no one but himself, but now you know that it’s not true at all.

When you were presenting for your AP Biology class, he made sure to quiz you on all your facts and correct you on the little errors you made here and there. Sure, you cried your eyes out that night and may have looked up “different curses to use on your enemies” on Google, but at least you got a 100 on the essay. When he would take a million years testing out the “comfort levels” of the motel mattresses, he was really surveying the perimeter and making sure that whatever creature’s lurking in the shadows would be attracted to his noise and not you.

That, and Min Yoongi had a thing about comfy mattresses.

You used to think that you were truly alone in the world, but as you lay here curled up next to the love of your life in a shitty motel bed with no AC and a cheap $25 wedding band on your finger, being the last two people on Earth doesn’t seem so bad after all.

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hotshotblackburn · 6 years ago

Text

Spoiler Alert: the following is some Real Fallen London Crack Theorizing and is probably completely nullified by some bit of writing that I don’t remember or know about. It’s about the Masters of the Bazaar, and the Sins of the Masters, and Secret Masters, and Seeking, and why false-winter in Fallen London must be godawful because it looks like snow but it smells like ammonia and rotting fish. Or something like that. Anyways, lot of lore spoilers below the cut about the Masters.

Okay so first off, sins of the Masters. If you haven’t read them, here’s the link: https://www.failbettergames.com/a-secret-about-the-masters/

There’s eleven of these bad boys recorded (”eleven pilgrims who travelled from a cold and windy waste“), and Failbetter has confirmed in the past there are eleven Masters currently operating in London (with a few weird ones): Wines, Veils, Stones, Spices, Pages, Fires, Irons, Cups, Mirrors, Apples, and Hearts (with the weird ones being Chimes, Sacks, and Eaten)

Now, Seeking spoilers: Eaten was not always Eaten. His name will not be said here, but suffice to say he too was once a pilgrim from on high. He is clearly not one of the eleven Masters currently operating in London, but he is one of the eleven Masters that apparently came from the Wilderness. So we have Wines, Veils, Spices, Pages, Fires, Irons, Cups, Mirrors, Apples, Hearts, Stones and REDACTED as our merry band of bats. That makes twelve (perhaps one goes unnoticed, and so only eleven are seen)

But wait! As it turns out from Nemesis (spoilers) and some other sources (spoilers?), Mr Apples also trades as Mr Hearts. And Mr Cups is also Mr Mirrors. If these are different titles for the same bats, then we have Hearts/Apples, Cups/Mirrors, REDACTED, Wines, Veils, Spices, Pages, Stones, Irons, and Fires. Only ten bats, not eleven or twelve. And if we look at the Masters currently publically active in London, we have only nine, not eleven. Where are the missing two bats?

Well, you could always just count Apples/Hearts and Cups/Mirrors as two different Masters. That’s probably the sensible option. But that would be boring, and this is real crack theory hours, so I’m going to discard that idea (well, only partially for the second duo) and go with something much more wild...

...

Mr Chimes was originally a real Master and he became the first Mr Sacks.

Okay, wait, hear me out before you leave.

So let’s consider our sins here, and where I initially placed the Masters: hoarding - Stones light-bringing - Fires impersonation, and the delivery of false testimony - Mirrors? (or perhaps Cups?) perpetration of the crimes of knife and of candle - Irons idleness, and the dwelling-on of dreams - Spices runtery, aberration, - REDACTED pursuit of a Treachery - Apples/Hearts failure and defeat; a fall from king to beggar - Wines glass-whispering. And worse: charity - Cups? (or perhaps Mirrors?) truth-strangling - Pages violation of the Order of Days, “which determines the hour of the hunt, the feast, the council, the bargain, and the slaughter” - Veils Others have said their interpretations, and you may have yours as well; I will not go too much into my reasons for why I assigned each of them as that is not the point of this crack theorizing. but consider the crudity with which Apples/Hearts are considered to be the same bat while Mirrors and Cups are given their own separate positions. Why would the latter be separate and the former the same? Why not the other way around? Or what if....

What if, originally, there was another Master? Let’s call them, hmmm...Chimes. Has a nice sound to it, eh? Eh? I’ll see myself out.

Now there IS a Chimes in Fallen London! They preside over the House of Fallen Chimes, and while you can pay real world money to go visit their and interact with them and more money during Christmas I’m going to spoiler all that and say community knowledge is Chimes doesn’t exist. It’s just the other Masters pretending to be Chimes. Now (jumping ahead a bit) the same can be said for Mr Sacks. Mr Sacks is supposedly a series of beings based off the other Masters, although not them. So technically, Chimes does not exist and Sacks does not exist, they’re just roles put on by the others.

BUT...let’s go back a bit. Let’s say there was, in fact, a Chimes. That allows us to solve for the Cups and Mirrors vs Hearts and Apples conundrum; Hearts and Apples are the same Master and treated as one bat/one sin, and Cups and Mirrors are also treated as the same Master with one bat/one sin (but what about King Twelve? Consider the nature of mirrors, and the nature of Beasts). Let us put Cups as being guilty of glass-whispering (and worse, charity). And Chimes? Chimes, well, that would make them guilty of impersonation, and the delivery of false testimony.

It fits, doesn’t it? Other Masters impersonate Chimes, but Chimes impersonated others. Perhaps he originally collected sound - the sound of music, and the sound of singing, and the sound of voices - and that allowed him to screech in a voice that was not his own. He could sound like Fires, or Spices, or Wines; he would have to learn Pages’ unique vocabulary and Irons’ handwriting, but this would not be out of the question. And this talent for impersonation...he could use it to pretend to be others. To speak as them. To speak for them. Impersonation, and false testimony.

What happens next? The theory spirals from here. He could still be at the House of Chimes, pretending to be the others. But if that is the case, why do we see multiple Masters pretending to be Chimes during Christmastime? And why has it been made clear he is an unusual case?

Which brings us to Sacks.

The subject of Nomen and the Crimson Beast of Winter is largely beyond the topic of this crack theory, except to say that they are made with blood and lacre and that it is quite possible to destroy the Sackses at Christmas without impeding the arrival of future Sackses. But consider that you can see a unique Noman within the Bazaar if you claim its unique Home Comfort at Christmastime. It is like no other Noman described. It is, to be fair, not really described like a Master...but considering I’ve written this much I really want to get the whole thing down so I’m not gonna let that stop me.

What if that was the original Mr Sacks? The one that appeared from 2009-2011, before the Twelve Days of Mr Sacks? Chimes was an original Master, but he is no longer around. Sacks was not an original Master, yet something unique like him exists within the depths of the Bazaar. All the other Masters impersonate both, whether in the flesh or in the lacre.

What if Mr Chimes died? Perhaps not died as we know, but effectively - lacre is *quite* final. Perhaps it was an accident; perhaps the Masters did not realize quite what lacre did to a body; perhaps it was merely the fortuitous occasion for a murder. Regardless, what if he died after being subsumed in lacre? Except instead of exploding, something happened that was...different. My theorizing falls short here. But something happened, perhaps, and although Mr Chimes died something else was born.

Mr Sacks, who demands gifts. HO HO HO.

This is a terrible mistake. Chimes is not the Runt, and he will be missed. There are certain procedures that must be followed. So rather than own to up to what might have been a mistake, or hide the existence of Chimes entirely, the rest of the Masters conceal it. Chimes had always been able to pretend to be them; why could the reverse not be true? So Mr Chimes lives as they always did, even though the title is little more than the other Masters taking turns to keep up the charade. And Mr Sacks, the mysterious Master who appeared at some point between arrival and the Fifth City, is explained away as just the Masters engaging in local festive traditions. Certainly their decision to create Nomen of themselves and send them out every year is their own decision, and not at all a coverup for the fact that one of their own who was actually necessary died. Mr Sacks’ opinions on all of this are mostly unexplored.

(At some point Mr Mirrors also becomes a real thing, but the Mr Chimes/Mr Sacks thing is ridiculous enough as is without getting into mirrors and reality)

So there you have it. The original pilgrims from the Wilderness were Wines, Spices, Veils, Pages, Stones, Irons, Fires, Chimes, Hearts/Apples, Cups and REDACTED; eleven bats (though a Master who held domain over dreams and could see into the Is-Not might detect a certain shadow following Cups...if this shadow were its own being, would that not make them twelve instead?)

And now there are really eleven: Wines, Spices, Veils, Pages, Stones, Irons, Fires, Hearts/Apples, Cups/Mirrors, REDACTED/Eaten, and Chimes/Sacks.

Yes, this all makes perfect sense. 110% Pure Canon, no doubt.

TL;DR - Chimes was a real Master, they tripped and fell into a lacre pit and became the first Mr Sacks, because they were actually a big deal rather than an aberrant runt the other Masters have to pretend to be Chimes (and make their Nomen pretend to be Sacks) in order to avoid the Bazaar or the other immortals around asking awkward questions about internal affairs. No one notices this because the original Chimes/Sacks was really good at impersonating the personalities of others, which was why they were on this dumb mission to begin with.

#fallen london #failbetter games #masters of the bazaar #spoilers for SMEN #spoilers for Christmas #spoilers for Nemesis #110% pure canon #Pages is also the worst master btw #a reckoning shall not be postponed #the Liberation of Night #sorrow-spiders best spiders

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