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luna-redamancy · 4 years ago

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Fix It (Thorin x F!Reader) 18+ NSFW Commission

Thank you @anjhope1 for the Ko-fi! Here is your ko-fi commission!

Note: The Thorin image as well as the divider is not mine. The Thorin image was originally posted by @thearkenstone-ck (I found it on pinterest, luckily the url is at the bottom right) and the dividers used are by @firefly-graphics which can be found Here

Warnings: Smut, angst, Thorin being an ass for a bit.

⚠️18+ Content ahead, Please read at your own risk ⚠️

It wasn’t unknown to you that braids have significance, in fact that was the first conversation you ever had with Thorin upon him asking for your approval to court you- how important and vital the braid was. How each placement of the strands of hair was significant, how by tilting the braiding outward you can declare a budding love, but inward you can declare a passing of something, such as a birthright.

‘Yet how did this happen?’ You mentally scolded yourself as you watched each passing dwarf look at you like you were a conundrum. You knew it had to have been your hair. It was Muhudtuzakhmerag, or Spring Fest, in Erebor and Thorin requested you wear a traditional ‘Queen’s Braid’ to the event to walk alongside him.

The request itself was simple, and sweet of him, to want you to participate like the queens before you, however, there was not a single portrait of what the said braids looked like. So you simply went by your best educated guess coupled with the old instructions written on ancient parchment that looked like it was going to fall apart any moment now.

The festival would begin with the giving of the straw. First, Thorin would place a strand of the straw into your hair, and you into his tunic pocket. This was to symbolize the true connection and reliance the dwarves had with nature. The next event was the ‘Carrying of the Straw’ where you and Thorin would lead a line of dwarves through the kingdom, assisting each other in carrying a barrow of straw to the feast room. All to honor Yavana, Mahal’s wife who originally gave the first dwarves their first straw of barley.

To say this event was huge for the dwarves would be an understatement. And, with this knowledge, you had hoped to look your best for Thorin.

As soon as you entered the throne room to meet with Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin before the event, you knew you messed up royally.

“(Y/n)...” Balin began gently, before Thorin’s angry voice startled you.

“What in Mahal have you done?” Thorin wasn’t shouting, but his fists were clenched like he was desperately trying not to.

“I tried my best to follow the instructions, is it that awful?” You looked at Balin and Dwalin, your eyebrows furrowed and your expression hurt at Thorin’s tone of voice. “What did I do wrong?” You asked the elderly dwarf, in hopes he would be able to give you advice before Thorin began speaking again.

“Everything.” He spat, shaking his head with a humorless chuckle as he began to pace the throne room floor.

“Lass,” Balin began before Thorin held his hand up, “Don’t speak to her.”

“The one time I request for you to do something specific and you can’t even get that right!” Thorin shouted, making you flinch as you stood back, your eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“I knew it was a mistake to ever court you, I never loved you to begin with.”

A gasp left your throat, “T-Thorin…” You felt your heart sink to your stomach. He regretted loving you, courting you, marrying you, all because of one braid?

“I can fix it,” You offered, your tone showing how close to the verge you were to breaking into tears, wanting to appease him so he wasn’t so angry with you.

“You can’t fix being human,” He huffed, “I knew a low human would never be able to meet the standards of being the queen of Erebor. If I could turn back time and never let you join this journey, I would---”

“Thorin, enough.” Dwalin all but growled at him. “It is just a braid, you can re-do it for her.” Dwalin tried to reason but Thorin let out a humorless chuckle. “You can re-do a braid, but you cannot redo or undo the damage that has been done. She has shown she does not care about our culture or our practices.”

Looking to Balin, you suppressed a sob as tears went down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” You told him, eyes full of regret and pain as you quickly took the pins holding the braid in place out, the metal clanging as it hit the stone floor.

“Lassie, it’s alright,” He began to soothe you but you shook your head.

“I’m so sorry,” You repeated shaking your head, exiting the room, with your hand up to your mouth to attempt to muffle the gasps leaving your throat as you continued to suppress the sobs threatening to escape.

“Thorin what have you done?!” Balin shouted at him as soon as you fled the room, glaring at the boy he watched grow up in these stone walls.

“Something I should have done a long time ago.”

“You will come to regret it. Don’t you realize you just told your wife that you despised her?”

“I don’t have time to deal with this, we have a festival to lead.” Thorin brushed past both of them to go grab his crown for the festivities.

As you put on a plain slip and slid into bed, you felt hot tears bubble down your face. He didn’t love you. All because you were human. Your heart ached as you heard the cheering, the Broken Bone Race being completed and the victor being given a medal, Thorin’s laugh trickling into your ears despite the many voices you have heard. That made you begin to sob as you clutched the pillow.

“He doesn’t love me…” You murmured to yourself, wiping your tears. “He wants a dwarrowdam.” You felt your heart clench as those words passed your lips.

Sitting up, you sniffled, wiping your eyes almost aggressively as you put on a robe. Maybe something in the library could help you with your love issues.

Thorin couldn’t deny the worry in his heart as he searched the halls of Erebor for you a few days later. Upon returning from the festivities, Thorin wasn’t too concerned with your absence, figuring you needed time alone from the blow-up that occurred in the throne room, but when it was the third day that he hadn’t seen you at any meals, your very presence and being missing from his day to day activities such as your walks together, he knew something was wrong.

His gut twisted as he walked down another corridor, before halting in his steps. “(Y/n)?” He breathed out, confused at the sight of you. You were dressed in the average dwarrowdam fashion, your hair up in braids like every other dwarrowdam he had come across.

It wasn’t you.

“Yes?” You cut straight to the point as you turned from your discussion with an advisor, and seeing Thorin’s dumbfounded expression, you excused the gentleman as you turned fully toward him. “What is it that you need, Thorin?” Your voice was cold, posture stiff as you stared him down with calculating eyes.

It was like you were a different person altogether.

“What happened to you?” Was all he could think to say.

Tilting your head, you raised a brow at him. “What you wanted.” Was all you answered as you turned on your heel, leaving him in the stone hallway all alone as you went to speak with the advisor once more.

Bursting through the doorway, Thorin’s voice caught the ears of the Company members fairly quickly.

“There’s something wrong with (Y/n)!” He yelled out, completely unsettled by your appearance. He knew you preferred your hair loose, not confined by things, and how you liked to wear flowy dresses made by soft fabrics, not thick dresses weighed down with crystals and braided fabric tassels.

“You finally noticed.” Dwalin scoffed, continuing to sharpen his blades, his disapproval of Thorin very clear.

“Aye, it wasn’t like she was missing from your chambers for three whole days and four whole nights.” Balin’s tone was clearly passive aggressive as he handed out documents to each member.

At Thorin’s lost expression, Balin chuckled bitterly.

“You told her you didn’t love her, that you despised her because she was human and what did you expect her to do!” Balin finally lost it, throwing his papers across the room, tears welling up in his eyes.

“She didn’t deserve that, Thorin!” Balin yelled, a tear going down his cheek. “All she wanted to do was make you happy and instead of applauding her effort and guiding her to the correct way, you belittled her! You ruined her self-esteem and told her she meant less than the dirt on your boots.”

“She didn’t deserve any of that… And now… Now you have the audacity to come in here like you did nothing wrong?”

“I didn’t realize…”

“You don’t seem to realize a lot of things, Thorin.” Balin huffed moving to pick up his papers as Fili, Kili, and Ori helped collect them from off the ground.

“I have to do something.”

Bofur shook his head, “If she’d let you.”

Thorin looked at him like he just grew two heads.

Rolling his eyes, Bofur shook his head again. “You were an utter arse, Thorin. You expect some weepy apology is going to make her forget everything you said? How little your actions have done to prove you do indeed care for her?”

“She’s lost weight, Thorin. She doesn’t come to meals, she hardly sleeps. And what do you notice? Oh, that she’s wearing a traditional dress.” Bofur’s sarcasm seeped through his tone.

“Y’know, Thorin, I hope she doesn’t forgive you. I hope she doesn’t let her sorry excuse of a One back into her life.” Bofur’s words cut into Thorin, hitting him where it hurts most. And for a moment, Thorin wasn’t Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, king of Erebor. In this moment he was a young dwarrow being scolded.

“But if you do somehow manage to weasel your way into her good graces, you better work your arse off to prove to her that you care for her.”

“I will.”

Bofur huffed through his nostrils as he went back to carving a wooden duck as if Thoin wasn’t even there.

“You better go find her, then.” Dwalin nodded to Thorin, a small smile on his face was all Thorin needed to feel encouraged as he set off to go find you.

Seeing Thorin for the first time in the past couple of days affected you more than you’d like to think, his harsh words being pulled from the back of your mind to the forefront, replaying in your head over and over. Instead of meeting with your advisor, you waited until Thorin was gone so you could go back to your room, the room you originally had before you and Thorin were wed.

Looking into the mirror, you couldn’t help but criticize everything about yourself. Your braids weren’t as taught as how they were this morning. The gown made you look radiant this morning but now it felt like a bulky mess that you shouldn’t have attempted to wear.

“Is it all for nothing?” You wondered as you stepped away from the vanity mirror and sat on the edge of the bed.

“He didn’t even notice.” You scoffed, flopping backwards.

The next morning, Thorin was adamant on approaching you.

“Good morning, Dushin-Mizim (dark jewel).”

“Morning, King Thorin.” Your reply was short as you walked past him, your hair half braided today, and in a less formal traditional dwarvish gown.

Thorin frowned, usually you’d kiss his cheek and say “Good morning, my love,” to him before he’d hold your hand and the two of you would walk together. Not that he blamed you for not doing so.

Instead of eating with him, you sat at the other end of the table, alone as you carefully ate your breakfast.

Sighing, Thorin brought the water glass up to his lips. ‘I deserve this,’ he thought as he watched the way the sunlight filtered through the sky-lights, making a rim of light circle the top of your hair, making you look angelic. An ache began to settle in his chest, he missed you.

He’s got to come up with a plan.

“How was your day, Ghivashel (Treasure of all treasures)?” Thorin attempted to make conversation as you approached after exiting a meeting.

“Perfectly fine, King Thorin.” You responded icily as you walked past him, your face stoic until you moved where he couldn’t see your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you bit your lip. ‘Does he love me still?’ you pondered, but that thought was quickly squashed when you realized he began to act lovingly again once you were in dwarvish attire. ‘He loves the facade.’ you decided as you walked to your room.

Looking in the mirror, you shook your head. “This isn’t me.” You murmured to yourself, while you had nothing against dwarrowdams, you knew this style of dress, this hairdo, it wasn’t yours. It didn’t suit you. You felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, an imitator waiting to be revealed.

Unravelling your hair, you sighed as your scalp was relieved of the taught pressure. Reaching behind you to unravel the laces of your bodice, you let out a relieved groan as you pulled the thick fabric off of you in favor of pulling on a light night gown.

Returning to the mirror you brushed your hair, refreshed to see it how it usually is. Free and relaxed.

“I’m done pretending... “ You told yourself, nodding to your reflection. “I am (Y/n), a human.. Not a Dwarrowdam.” You felt tears build in your eyes, “and if Thorin wants one so bad, then so be it, but I will not erase myself for his pleasure.”

The next morning you felt alive again, as if someone had cleaned out the cobwebs of your chimney and lit the fire once more. Putting on a loose gown, you only brushed your hair, carefully placing oils where they were needed before looking in the mirror. You finally looked like yourself again.

“Good morning, amrâlimê (My love).” Thorin called out to you as you exited your bedding chambers, making you pause in your stride.

“Good morning, King Thorin.” You responded blandly, watching as he analyzed you, your expression cool but your heart hammering inside of your chest. Would he say anything? Would he stop calling you the names you cherish close to your heart?

“You look radiant,” He smiled at you, before letting it drop, his expression turning serious. “I would like to have a talk with you, today, whenever you have time, of course.” He looked nervous as he spoke, something you hadn’t seen since the day he asked to put in your courting braid.

“I’ll be free this evening,” You told him, curious as to what he needed to tell you.

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he nodded, like he was having an inner conversation before looking into your eyes.

“Would you… Do me the honor of meeting me in the gardens this evening?” Thorin held his hands behind his back, nervously rubbing his thumb over the other one, just waiting for you to say no. After all, he had to earn your trust again, to earn your love again.

You paused, a ‘no’ quick to push itself to the tip of your tongue, but as you watched his eyes dart around your face, his eyebrow scrunched like how it always does when he’s worried, you felt your face soften.

“I shall.” You chose to say instead, a smile threatening to lift your cheeks as he perked up like a puppy, a spark returning to his eye.

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” He vowed, hesitating, like he was ready to give you a kiss before physically holding himself back.

Coughing nervously, he nodded, “I will see you then.”

You couldn’t deny the disappointment that bubbled in your chest as he walked away, you had hoped he would offer to walk you to breakfast.

“Well with how you’re acting, don’t be surprised if he thinks you hate him now.” Your inner voice taunted but you shook your head, you had every right to be upset with him.

The day seemed to drag on and on, and as you dragged your feet to the dining hall after your final meeting, you remembered Thorin had wanted to see you.

“The gardens,” You hummed to yourself as you headed that way, seeing petals of (favorite flower) being littered on the ground. Raising a brow, you followed them, a small smile growing on your face as you approached the entrance to the gardens.

Thorin stood staring at the stars, his back turned and between you and him sat a table. Two plates, two chairs, two water glasses.

“So your discussion was a date?” Your voice pulled Thorin from his thoughts, his head quickly swinging to face you.

“Not exactly, no.” Thorin spoke quickly, as if your words scalded him like a hot pan.

“If you do not wish to stay for the meal then I will not ask you to.” He began, gesturing to the seat. “But I will ask if you’d like to take a seat so you can be comfortable while we talk?”

Biting your lip, you let out a breath before chucking off your heels, your feet sinking into the cool grass as you approached the table.

Thorin sighed in relief, believing you were going to turn your back and leave the minute he opened his mouth.

“What is it you wished to talk about?” You questioned, your voice professional as you took a look around the gardens. Lanterns were placed all around the garden, giving the space an ethereal glow and if you listened hard enough you’d hear the gentle noises of the creek.

“I would like to apologise.” Thorin stated, and the statement alone nearly made you choke on your saliva. Thorin? Apologizing?

“I… I have no reason, excuse or otherwise to explain to you why I spoke the way I did.” He furrowed his brows. “I am a horrible excuse for a husband, a failure of a One, and a failure as your friend.” Thorin spoke, his voice close to cracking before he cleared his throat.

You frowned, not expecting this at all, especially the glassy look in his eyes.

“I wanted to let you know I did not mean a thing I said.”

“I knew it was a mistake to ever court you, I never loved you to begin with.” His words replayed in your head, your lip beginning to tremble.

“Meeting you was the biggest blessing Mahal has ever given me, being able to love you and to cherish you was a gift I threw away,” Thorin’s voice finally cracked, as he let out a shaky sigh.

“Menu tessu (You mean everything to me) and I was a fool to tell you otherwise.” He shook his head, angry at himself.

“I love you, (Y/n), I love the way you take the blankets from me when we’re sleeping, I love the way your eyes sparkle when you’re happy, I love the way you care so much for people you love…” Thorin halted himself, looking up to the sky briefly before looking back to you.

“But despite all of that, I have wronged you, I have wronged you and belittled you,” He frowned at the sight of your tears building in your eyes.

“And I understand if you would like to leave.”

“Leave?” You couldn’t help but echo, causing him to nod.

“After all I have done, I cannot expect you to want to stay with me, Men Kurdel (My heart of hearts). I made you feel inadequate, when I should be the one making you feel like a goddess. I failed you.” Tears slipped down Thorin’s cheeks.

“That is what I wanted to discuss with you, a way to make your life easier, a way to just---” He sighed, “If there is one thing I want, (Y/n), it is to make you happy.”

“And you think that’s away from you?” You cut him off, furrowing your brows as a tear slipped out, rolling down your face and dripping off your chin.

“I have spent days trying to make myself more like a dwarrowdam because you hate how human I am, because I want---” Your own sob cut you off, your breath hitching as you began to cry harder.

“Because I wanted you to love me again.” Your voice cracked as you barely got out the words, and at the same time, Thorin’s heart felt like it cracked in half as he watched you emotionally collapse in front of him.

Thorin nearly leapt from his chair, moving to cradle you in his arms, yet unsure as he hovered his form close to yours.

“Please, love me again,” You whimpered as Thorin pulled you into his arms, tucking your head into his neck as you sobbed.

“I never stopped loving you, (Y/n),” He murmured into your ear, his arms tightening their hold on you as if this was all a dream. “I am so sorry,” Thorin wept as you clutched onto him just as tight.

You missed him so much.

“I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you,” He vowed, pulling away so he could look at you, tears springing to his eyes again at the look of anguish on your face.

“Just please, come back to me, come back to our chambers, let me hold you, at least for just this night?” Thorin’s tone was on the edge of begging as he cradled your face in his palm, his forehead against yours.

Not being able to find the words, you nodded. And at that moment, he pulled you off the chair entirely, your form clinging to his as he brought you back to your shared chambers.

Setting you down on the bed, Thorin pulled away to go to your wardrobe.

“What’re you doing?” You tearfully asked, a whimper wanting to pull itself from your mouth at the lack of contact.

“Your nightgown--”

“Thorin, please hold me.” His priority was your comfortableness while yours was to be as close as possible to him. Quickly shutting the wardrobe doors, Thorin returned to the bed, barely able to kneel on it before you latched yourself onto him again.

Hugging him close, you could feel his heartbeat through his tunic. A sigh of relief left you before you looked up to him, seeing him already watching you with admiration and fear. Fear of you changing your mind and walking out of his life for good.

“Kiss me, please?” You asked tilting your head back to make it easier for him to attach his lips to yours. Thorin’s expression softened as he captured your lips with his own. A needy whimper left your lips as you clutched his tunic in your hands, his own cupping your face as he kissed you deeply.

Pulling away, Thorin pecked your lips one last time before pressing his forehead against yours.

“Thorin, I need you.” You murmured, you had been deprived of his touch, of his love, for so long now.

“I’m yours, I’m here,” He responded to you, not quite understanding your meaning, simply thinking you needed reassurance until you repeated yourself.

“I need you, Thorin.”

His expression changed from one of concern to something sensual as he dragged his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but question, not wanting you to regret being with him when you were so emotionally fragile.

“Absolutely.” You reassured, this time capturing his lips with yours, catching him off guard before he quickly fell into the rhythm you were searching for.

Lowering you gently on your back, you felt the familiar pillows beneath you as you arched into him, your hips rolling into his causing a pleased groan to release from his lips, his hands finding your butt as he controlled your movement against his clothed crotch.

“More, Thorin, please,” Your tone was leaning on the side of begging as he severed the kiss to pepper kisses along your jaw and neck.

“I’ll give you all you want, amrâlimê,” He reassured, lifting off of you to help you with your dress, the offending fabric being tossed to the floor before he yanked off his tunic, leaving him bare chested with you in your undergarments.

“Beautiful,” Thorin murmured, admiring the way your body was laid beneath him.

Smiling at him, you couldn’t help but admire him as well, the small scars from battles that have come and gone, the chest hair mostly covering him, the muscles beneath it.

You were brought out of your admiring state as he began to remove your undergarments, leaving you bare with him still in his pants.

“You’re very overdressed,” You hummed as he chuckled, the sound going straight to your core as he leaned back over you to kiss at your shoulders and the valley of your breasts.

“Don’t worry about me, amrâlimê, focus on you.” He spoke softly as he kissed his way down your stomach, his hands coming up to tease your nipples for a moment, drawing a gasp from you. It served as a distraction as he skipped over your pussy to mouth at your thighs.

“Thorin,” You couldn’t help but groan out as he purposefully neglected where you wanted him most.

“Please,” You whined until you felt his breath over your pussy.

“I said to focus on you, (Y/n),” He hummed, now massaging your inner thighs with his calloused hands. Before you could think of a response, his tongue stole the words out of your mouth as it came in contact with you. Licking, flicking, sucking, you couldn’t focus on what he was doing as the pleasure made you reach out and grab at his hair.

Thorin swore he would make it up to you, and he planned to start right now through worshipping your body, making you feel every ounce of pleasure he could provide you.

Looping his arms under your thighs, he held his hands above your hips, locking you in place as he feasted on you.

“Thorin!” You couldn’t help but moan out, your tone high pitched as you felt yourself climbing higher and higher to your peak. Whether you called his name out of lust or trying to give warning, Thorin wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing for certain: you were close.

He flicked his tongue over your clit rapidly, circling it before suckling the bundle of nerves into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he aggressively accelerated you to your climax.

Your back arched as your grip on his hair tightened, your mouth opening in a silent moan as your hips wiggled up and down, his own grip loosening as he let you ride out your orgasm. Releasing your clit from his mouth, he kissed your inner thigh as you slowly calmed down.

“Men lananubukhs (I love you),” Thorin whispered as he rested his head on your opposite thigh, rubbing circles on your hips.

“What about you?” You questioned once you got your bearings again.

Thorin shook his head, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up to pull you into his embrace. “All I care about is that you are satisfied, my beloved.” He nuzzled the top of your head, feeling a sense of pride as your thighs continued to tremble from the intensity of your orgasm.

“I told you before, all I want is to make you happy.”

It felt like flowers were blooming in your ribcage, something soft and delicate taking place in your heart as you curled into Thorin’s embrace, his arm around the small of your waist bringing a sense of comfort.

While nothing could erase the past, nor the heart that came with it, you’ve decided that for now, you would enjoy the peace that resonated in your heart.

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winchesterfanatic1967 · 4 years ago

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Picking Up The Pieces Part 1

Pairings: Dean AU x Reader

Word Count: 3,654

Warnings- Hard times

You clutched your jacket around yourself a little bit tighter. It was the beginning of November and the weather was starting to get really cold in Lawrence Kansas. You were currently standing in line for a bed at the shelter. It was really long so there was a slim chance that you were going to get a slot tonight. Sure enough, after about 10 more people the man at the door said that was it for the night. You sighed and slowly turned walking to Donna’s Place.

The diner didn’t have that many people in it, just a young teenage couple and an old guy at the counter sipping on his beer. You sat at the counter and the waitress approached you for something to drink, which you shook your head no.

“I’m sorry, you have to order something to keep your seat.” She said with sympathy in her eyes.

“I understand. I’ll just have some water please.” You say quietly.

“Coming right up honey.”

While you waited for your water, you counted the few bills you had in your small wallet. You only had 23$ to your name. You’ve been in this predicament for quite some time now. When you turned eighteen your parents kicked you out because you didn’t want to be a doctor. Your family was all doctors and nurses, and they looked down on other people who didn’t have the same career.

That was three years ago, and you were now 21. You had a job at Burger King for a while, but the bills were piling up and you didn’t have enough money for rent so the landlord kicked you out. All of your family disowned you, and you had nobody else. You slept at the shelter when you could, but most of the time it was packed with people.

When you were able to stay you took your showers. Most of the time you took clothes out of the donation bins, and only bought granola bars or fruit so you wouldn’t run out of money. The money was getting low now, and you didn’t know what to do. You’ve been searching for jobs all over the place but nobody hired you.

You sipped slowly on your water, and stared at your hands. You ran your fingers through your hair and cursed to yourself at how greasy it was becoming. This was the second night in a row you haven’t been able to grab a bed so you haven’t showered.

You were aware that you probably smelt bad, and you sunk your head down, avoiding the stares of the two teenagers. The employees were staring at you like you were some kind of animal, and it was making you uncomfortable. The bell on the door indicated someone else was walking in.

You turned to look, and it was four guys. They were attractive, and you quickly looked away. You felt disgusting, and went into the ladies room. You wiped cold water on your face and looked at your reflection ashamed. Your hair was definitely greasy, and you had dark bags underneath your eyes from lack of sleep.

Your clothes looked wrinkly, and you tried to make yourself look a little bit presentable as you made your way back to your seat. The four guys were sitting in the booth closest to the counter, and you kept your head down trying to avoid eye contact. These four attractive guys didn’t need to see how ugly you were. You were hoping that they couldn’t smell you.

You felt someone looking at you, and you shyly looked up to see the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. He had the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen. He had light brown hair and a small amount of stubble. He was looking at you, and he gave you a small smile. You returned it, your cheeks flushed and looked away quickly.

You kept glancing over at him, and everytime you did he was looking at you. You couldn’t help but think he and his friends were making fun of you, and you tried to make yourself small.

“I’m sorry guys, we’re closing up soon.”

“No problem sweetheart, we’ll be out soon.” The green eyed man said.

“Okay.” You whispered quietly and she looked at you in sympathy again.

“Is there someone I can call for you? Somewhere that you can go?”

You shook your head no, and slowly got up out of your chair. You wrapped your jacket tighter around yourself as you walked out of the diner, but before the door closed you noticed him looking at you again.

You weren’t sure how long you were walking, but the low rumble sound of a car pulling up next to you broke your train of thought. You looked over to see a beautiful black car and sure enough the same man from the diner looking at you.

“Hey sweetheart. Do you need a ride somewhere?” He asked kindly and you shook your head no.

“No thank you, I’ll be home in five minutes.” You lie.

“Let me take you home, you’ll be there in 1 minute instead of five.” He shrugged and you shook your head again.

“That’s okay, but thank you so much.”

“I insist. My mother would slap me upside the head if she found out I let a beautiful young girl walk home at night. It’s dangerous out here sweetheart.”

He wasn’t letting up, and you sighed quietly before opening the passenger door, and sliding in quietly. He began to drive and asked where to go. You told him a random turn and luckily there was a motel there.

“Right there. Motel 99.” You say quietly.

“Okay.”

You looked in your wallet, and pulled out 5 dollars and tried to hand it to him. “This is for you.” But he shook his head rapidly.

“No no no. I don’t think so.” He said gently and pushed the money towards you kindly.

“Please take it. I insist.” You say quietly.

“No. It’s no problem at all. I’m just glad I got you home safe and sound. My pleasure.” He said sweetly and you gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You reply kindly.

“You’re welcome. Have a goodnight.”

You walked into the motel, and there was a sketchy guy sitting at the front desk. “Hello miss thing. What can I do for you?”

“How much is it a night?” You ask.

“100 bucks.” You winced and looked to the ground.

“Thanks anyways.” You whisper and begin to walk outside.

“I can knock it down to fifty if you repay me in favors.” He said cheekily and your face scrunched up in disgust. “No thanks.” You say in annoyance and continue your way outside.

You walked along the dirt path, and you couldn’t help but let a tear slide down your cheek. You haven’t cried that much over your situation. You didn’t cry when your parents kicked you out and shunned you, you didn’t cry when your landlord kicked you out, you didn’t cry when you lost your job.

But if you were being honest this entire thing was beginning to take a toll on you. It was cold outside now, and the money was beginning to run out. Nobody was hiring, and you cursed to yourself about not applying to Donna’s Place earlier.

You were starving, and you desperately needed a shower. You were going to make it your mission to get a spot tomorrow night at the shelter. You arrived at a park, and took a seat on the bench. You were shivering, and you tugged your jacket close to your body.

You tried to make yourself comfortable and laid down shutting your eyes. Sleep was failing you, and you sighed softly before sitting up again. You decided to head back to the shelter. They were most likely going to say no, but you had to try to get a proper bed tonight.

You knocked softly on the door, and after a couple of minutes a man opened it up. “Can I help you?”

“H-Hi, I was wondering if you had any beds left.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we do tonight honey.”

“O-Okay, I understand.” You say with tears welling in your eyes. You began to walk away when he stopped you.

“I can tell you’re going through a really rough time. Listen, go to Harvelle’s Roadhouse. My wife and I co own it, and she’s got a couple of beds in the back. I’ll call her and let her know you’re coming. We’ve got a bed, a shower and she can make you something to eat.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s about a 10 minute walk, would you like me to drive you?”

“No, I got this. Thank you for everything.” You say quietly before walking in the direction he pointed you to.

Harvelle’s Roadhouse was in bold letters on the front of the building. You sighed before knocking on the front door softly. A middle aged woman opened it up. “Can I help you sweetie?”

“Hi. Your husband told you I was coming here?”

“Yes. Of course, come on in.”

You stepped inside, and she led you to the back. There was a small bedroom connected with a bathroom.

“There’s shampoo and conditioner for guests in the shower already, and there’s a sealed toothbrush with some toothpaste in the vanity. I can lend you some of my daughters clothes and wash the ones you have on now if you would like.” She said and you nodded your head gratefully.

“Are you hungry? I can whip something up for you.”

“Please.” You whispered.

“What can I make you?”

“Anything.” You whispered and she looked at you with sympathy.

“Coming right up honey.”

You stood in the shower for a really long time, and you felt so much better when you got out. Your hair felt fresh, and you were able to shave parts of you that you haven’t been able to attend to in a while.

You dried yourself off, and slid the sweatpants and tank top over your body. You were grateful to everyone who’s been nice to you tonight. Nobody has been this nice to you in such a long time.

She entered the room with a bowl of soup and some crackers. “I figured you should take it easy on your stomach, it’s been a while since you’ve had a proper meal huh?” She asked and you looked away shameful.

“Hey..my name is Ellen by the way. What’s yours?”

“Y/n.”

“Beautiful name. Is there anyone I can call for you? Parents?”

You shook your head no, and she looked at you with sympathy.

“Well, I’ll let you eat your food, and then you need to get some rest.” She said gently and you nodded gratefully.

“Thank you ma’am.” You say quietly and she smiled at you.

“Call me Ellen, and you’re welcome sweetie. Sweet dreams.” She says as she leaves the room.

You ate like you’ve never eaten before, and you were out like a light within minutes. You woke up the next morning and your eyes widened at the time. 5:00 in the afternoon!?

Ellen folded your clean clothes on the bottom of the bed, and you quickly dressed yourself. You were about to run out the front door before she stopped you.

“Hey, where are you going sweetie?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep all night and all afternoon here. Thank you so much for everything you and your husband did for me. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Wait wait wait, y/n you can stay, let me help you get back on your feet,-”

You cut her off but shaking your head. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. But thank you so much again.”

Before she opened her mouth, you were out the door. You appreciated everything she did, but you felt like you overstayed your welcome. You decided you were going to apply to Donna’s Place as a waitress. You would sleep at the shelter at night, and you would save up until you could afford an apartment.

The bell rang as you entered the diner, and it had a little more people than it did the night before. You looked to your left and the same four guys were sitting in the same spot. The green eyed man smiled widely, and you gave him a shy one back.

“Hey sweetheart! C’mere!” He said and you felt your cheeks burn.

You approached them slowly, and smiled shyly at the other three attractive men and they returned it with grins.

“This is Benny, Cas, and this is my brother Sam. Guys, this is...I’m sorry I don’t think I caught your name.” He says sheepishly.

“Y/n.”

“The beautiful mystery girl you drove home last night?” Cas teased and you smiled softly and your cheeks turned pink. You were shocked to see that the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Yes. This is her. I’m Dean. I’m sorry I didn’t formally introduce myself last night.” He said again and you shook your head.

“That’s okay.”

“Why don’t you have a seat with us?” He asked but you shook your head.

“Thank you, but I’m actually here to apply for a job.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” He said a little disappointed.

“Hey, my wife said you took off this morning. You know you could’ve stayed as long as you needed to.” A voice said next to you and you looked up to see Bill staring at you.

“U-Um yeah, I told her thanks but I’ll be okay.” You say quickly hoping he would change the subject.

“If you want a spot tonight, I can arrange that for you.” He says kindly and you give him a small smile.

“I would appreciate that, thank you.”

He just nodded and walked away and you slowly turned to look at the four men with confused looks on their faces.

“Y/n..Bill runs the homeless shelter.” Dean says and you could feel your face burn with embarrassment. “I thought I brought you home last night?”

“Well, not exactly.” You said hoping that the ground swallowed you up. “L-Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Enjoy your dinner. And thank you again for last night.” You say kindly and turn around walking to the counter.

As you were filling out an application you felt a warm hand place itself on the small of your back. You looked up into Dean’s green eyes and he was looking at you filled with sympathy.

“Listen, I know you don’t know me that well. Not at all actually. But I do know that you’re clearly going through a rough time, and if you ever need someone to vent to I’m here for you.” He says sweetly and you smile at him.

“Thank you.”

“They’re always hiring here. You should definitely get the job.”

“I hope so.” You say quietly.

“So I really don’t mean to pry, but you don’t live at the motel?” He asks and you shook your head.

“No. I’m sorry I lied to you. I was embarrassed.” You say.

“Don’t be. I promise I’m not judging you.”

“I don’t have a home. I stay at Bill’s shelter whenever there is a free bed. The past two nights in a row I wasn’t able to get a bed and last night I felt at my lowest point and I was desperate. I stayed at Harvelle’s Roadhouse and Ellen was very nice to me. She offered me to stay there but I’m just trying to get a job so I can get back on my feet and find myself an apartment.”

“It’s okay to ask for help every once in a while you know.” He said quietly.

“I know. But I’ve been on my own since I’ve been eighteen. I can handle it.”

“Listen, I know you don’t know me at all, and I know this sounds absolutely crazy..but stay with me.”

“What? No.” You say quickly.

“It’s okay to ask for help y/n. You’re going through a hard time and I want to help you. Let me be your friend. Let me help you get back on your feet.”

“Dean..even if I said yes I don’t have a job. I can’t help you with rent. I can’t help with groceries.”

“And that’s completely okay.”

“No, I can’t agree to that Dean.”

“Listen. If you get hired here, then stay with me. Save up a little bit, and if it means that much to you we can split everything. Okay?”

“Okay.” You say softly.

The owner Donna was thrilled when you applied and your availability was anytime everyday. There was only her with three other waitresses. Claire, Alex, and Kaia. She said you could start right away, and all the tips you got were yours. Your first shift began at 10:00 tomorrow morning.

You were embarrassed that you didn’t have anything to bring with you to Dean’s house. Just the clothes on your back. He could tell that you were ashamed, but he didn’t push you to talk.

“Listen y/n..if you want I can bring you to the mall. Pick out whatever you want.” You shook your head.

“I can’t do that Dean.”

“I insist sweetheart. Please.”

“Alright…” You sigh and he gives you a small smile.

“And then we can pick up bathroom stuff for you. I’m sure you don’t want to use my axe shampoo and cologne smelling deodorant and body wash.” He chuckled and you giggled quietly.

“Okay Dean. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

At the end of it all, you felt terrible for how much Dean was spending on you. He bought you all the bathroom products you needed, along with a bunch of clothes. He even bought you makeup.

He pulled into his small house, and you helped him carry everything inside. You placed everything on the kitchen counter and you looked up at him with tears welling in your eyes.

“Thank you Dean.”

“Hey...stop it. Don’t you do that to me.” He said as he pulled you gently into his arms and you buried your face into his chest. It’s been a long time since somebody hugged you, let alone be this nice to you.

He was rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Listen, I’m always here for you. I want to get to know you. You’ve been through tons of crap and I can’t even imagine. You deserve better than what the world has done to you. Let me be there for you. Let me take care of you. You deserve to be happy.”

“I’m crap Dean. You don’t know me. When you find out how shitty I am you’ll kick me out.” You sniffled.

“I highly doubt that, and you’re not crap. You need help, and there’s nothing wrong with receiving it. Now, I’m going to give you a tour, show you where the guest room is that’s now yours, and then you’re going to take a nice long hot shower, and I’m going to order us a pizza. You like pizza right?” You nodded against his shoulder.

“Good. Now let me show you around.”

He showed you around his small house, and for a guy it was neat and clean. Your room was really nice, and the walls were a nice beige color with a queen size bed in the middle.

You gathered up all your bathroom stuff along with your pajamas and shut the bathroom door. You showered, thinking to yourself that you’ve never met anyone as nice as Dean. When you finished you went out into the living room. Dean was handing the pizza guy money, and he turned around and smiled when he looked at you.

“Hey sweetheart. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, much better.”

“Good. Want to watch tv?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Okay, make yourself comfortable on the couch and I’ll be right out.”

“Okay De.” You say softly.

“Hey..you okay?” He asks in concern.

“Yeah..yeah I think that everything is just sinking in you know?”

“Yeah..I understand.”

You ate together in silence, with Friends playing in the background. You felt Dean glance over to you every few moments, but you pretended not to notice.

“Are you excited for your first shift tomorrow?” He asked.

“I’m a little nervous. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a job.”

“You’ll do great. I go there every night and it’s mainly the same people who eat there. Everyone is super nice to the staff and the ladies get good tips. I believe in you y/n.”

“Thank you Dean.” You let out a small yawn.

“Are you sleepy?”

“Getting there.”

“Why don’t you head to bed? You need rest sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

“Here, I’ll walk you.”

He trailed behind you, and you gently hugged him before entering your room. “Thank you for everything. You’ll never know how much I appreciate it.” You whisper to him and he held you tighter against his body.

“You’re welcome y/n.”

You crawled into bed, and moaned softly at the memory foam mattress. It was so soft, and you felt your eyelids droop instantly as you became more comfortable.

After Dean finished another episode, he shut the tv off and locked up. Before he went into his room he quietly checked on you and he smiled at the sight of you snuggled into the mattress. You were wrapped up in the covers like a cocoon, and he felt his heart swell.

You were such a sweet and beautiful girl. He wasn’t sure what happened to you for you to end up in the position you were in, but he was a patient man and he was going to be there for you and pick up the pieces.

220 notes · View notes

imissjoongsmullet · 4 years ago

Text

My Prince (6 - final)

Pairing: Minghao x reader

Genre: fluff/(angst)

Summary: Life is not exactly easy being the royal gardeners’ daughter but at least it’s simple. When you’re suddenly called upon to serve as the prince’s personal servant, things get a little more than complicated, especially considering the secret history you and the prince share.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Warnings: general angstiness, a bit of a slow burn, very romantic, very soft, the fact that this will most likely become a long series cause I have no chill

Word Count: 6.5K

Author’s Note:

This final chapter finally fulfills the premise that this is in fact fluff. I promise I’m done breaking your hearts now, woohoo!

My Prince has grown so near and dear to my heart. I don’t usually write long fanfics so this was really quite special. I know I might sound overly dramatic or corny to some of you (and that’s okay). It’s just, I try to be intentional with everything I do. That’s why I wanted to do this right. That’s why I’ve gotten so attached. That’s why it’s taken me forever to finish as well probably haha!

This story is far from perfect. There are countless things that I would have liked to sculpt out more... but I think for that to have happened this would have to become a full on novel and that’s not what this was ever meant to be, so I’ve got to let go of those thoughts and just send it out into the world as it is.

In any case, I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. As always, please let me know what you think. As a writer, any type of feedback makes my heart flutter~

Thank you for all the love and support ♥

►

You fell to the floor, your shriek buried in the chaos that surrounded you. There was so much noise so suddenly and none of it sounded good. Panicked, you raised your head to see the entrance to the room had been broken wide open and soldiers in silver and black attire were pouring in, brandishing swords, fire and crossbows. Yientan. Another cry left your lips as you scrambled backwards until you hit the wall behind you. They were here. They must have found out about the wedding and wanted to stop it before a legend could take away their power.

Strong hands grabbed you by the collar and you screamed out for help. You struggled in your attempt to pry the stranger off of you until you noticed the face that belonged to it.

“Come on!” Minghao ordered, dragging you up. He took your hand and set off at a sprint, leaving behind the bulk of the commotion. You could hear banging and screaming from other directions as well though. They must have the whole castle surrounded. Luckily Minghao knew all the secret, little passages attackers tended to overlook. It didn’t take long for you to realize where he was taking you. Before you could come to your senses, you were dragged through the heavy doors to Minghao’s private chambers and sat onto his bed.

“Stay here,” he said, kneeling at your side, clasping your palms in your lap, “don’t leave until it’s all over.” He got up and turned to leave.

“Wait!” you called, stopping him midway, “you can’t go out there!”

“I have to,” he replied stone faced.

“No!” Now it was you holding onto him. “Please don’t—” Your fingers dug into his robes with desperation.

“I have a responsibility,” he said, “I have to go—”

“Then I’m coming too,” you cut in but he shook his head.

“You can’t help,” he explained, “I can so I’m going.” He eyed you sternly for a few more seconds before softening. He sighed, brushing his hand over your cheek lovingly and finally saying, “do not follow me.”

“Hao, please,” you called as he pulled away. You ran to him just in time to keep him from shutting the door behind him entirely. Only a sliver of his face was visible in the gap.

“Stay safe,” he said, before vanishing.

In stunned silence you let the doors fall shut. You walked over to the bed and sat down because your legs felt shaky and your head dizzyingly light. Outside, the uproar continued to grow but Minghao had told you to stay. Your heart ached. It pulled and tugged at you, trying to get you to move but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to disappoint him. Your fingers wrapped around one of the silk pillows on his bed. Closing your eyes, you hugged the thing close. It was all you could do not to cry. You just wanted everything to be okay— for everything to go back to normal. But you supposed none of Minghao’s life had ever really been normal.

A loud crashing sound made you jump. Some large piece of glass must have just shattered somewhere. You got up from the bed and began to pace the room. You clamped your hands over your ears in a miserable attempt to shut out the madness. Shutting your eyes didn’t help either. The itch to do something was growing unbearable. When a few minutes later a crack so deep it was like walls crumbling made the wooden floor tremble, you decided that enough was enough.

Head in overdrive, you went for the window. Its balcony was wide and looked out over the east side of the gardens. Tonight, there were only balls of fire within the dark. With a sickening lurch, you thought of your parents. Had they managed to hide or escape? Or had the attackers set flame to their house while they slept, trapping them in an excruciating death? Panicking, you went for the balcony ledge. Once your feet found balance, you grabbed onto the ornate pillars and started to climb. The plan seemed insane and yet, somehow you felt like the adventurous prince had definitely made this climb before. With that information fueling your confidence, you made it onto the roof above the prince’s chambers.

From here, you could see most of the castle and its grounds. A landscape of hills and valleys lay before you in the form of various curved rooftops. It would have been quite beautiful if it hadn’t been for the screams and the fire. You didn’t know what you were doing, really. You just wanted to know everything was going to be alright. Besides, you’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Minghao while you hid away like a coward.

How many people were fighting down there? How much of a chance did they stand against Yientan? And what could Minghao possibly do in all this? You didn’t even know if he knew how to fight.

Hunching down to a crouch, you made your way toward the center part of the castle. You looked down wherever you could, trying to get a feel of the situation. You saw two servant girls running on a deck as they cried. You saw men fighting in little courtyards, blood staining their clothes. You saw the wooden walkway towards the prince’s library collapse in flames. All of this roused an anger in you that surprised you. You’d never been the bravest of people— you still weren’t. But something was taking over you. It didn’t matter that this castle had been the bane of your existence for the past few months. The castle was under attack and you felt it as you’d feel an attack on your own family. You jumped from roof to roof, wracking your brain over a way to help.

Something sharp whooshed past you and you gasped. You were just in time to turn around and see the Yientan soldier standing on a nearby rooftop, reaching for another arrow. You ducked away towards a lower part of the roof, suddenly feeling the sharp sting on your cheek. There were hurried footsteps behind you and you were running out of options. Your rooftopped landscape came to an end as you happened upon the center courtyard of the castle, where more soldiers fought.

Hoping fiercely you weren’t making the wrong decision, you jumped.

The landing was harsh and you failed to stifle the noise that fought to come out your mouth. A man dressed in silver and black turned your way.

Wasting no time, hopped onto the deck and dashed into the nearest corridor, running as fast as you could in your clumsy servant’s robes. You were disoriented and scared but also determent to outrun the soldier. The long hallways of the castle once again felt like a devious maze, trying to suffocate you. You turned a corner and half-fell-half-jumped down a narrow flight of stairs. Ignoring the sting in your left leg, you rushed along a half open deck, ducked under a low archway that lead you down to the underbelly of the castle. Here, it was pitch black except for the spaced out torch light that hung from the walls. Luckily, you knew where you were going. This lowest level of the castle was used for storage and servant work deemed too dirty to be looked upon by the masters. You took a right through a small door, finding yourself in one of the washrooms the servants used. Just as the soldier’s feet hit the wood floor behind you, you opened one of the closets and grabbed as many fresh sheets as you possibly could, throwing them over him. You watched him struggle for only the fraction of a second before escaping through a side door. You knew exactly where to hide.

You reached your destination within a minute, lowering yourself into a little crawlspace underneath the floorboards of the broom closet servants used to hide from Tou Ma when she was angry. You’d only have to wait a few minutes for the soldier to give up and leave and then you’d be safe. You were about to close up the floorboards when you heard the most dreadful sound in the world.

It was Minghao. He was screaming.

Without a second thought, you burst back into the corridor. You followed the echo of the scream in your mind. It wasn’t far off. It was right here, under the castle. You tried every door, finding deserted room after deserted room, wondering why Minghao was even here, hidden away from all the commotion.

Aside from the soldier that had followed you down, you hadn’t seen a single person down this low. Perhaps you’d imagined it, you thought, just as you slid through another open door you knew lead to the pantry.

The most shocking thing was not that Minghao was there; it was that the emperor of Namin was there too.

Minghao was knelt over his father’s form, shuddering slightly.

“Hao,” you whispered as you approached, an awkward feeling settling in your stomach. Something was very wrong. Tentatively, you knelt down beside the prince, gasping when you saw the blood. Panicked, you looked down, now noticing the dark trail on the floorboards.

“What— what happened?” you stammered. Minghao hadn’t acknowledged you yet. He was doubled over, tears falling down onto his father’s chest.

“Don’t leave me.” His voice was so thick with emotion the words were barely audible.

You knew the emperor wouldn’t reply.

“Please, father,” Minghao whimpered.

You’d never seen him like this; torn apart like an old book. Afraid of making things worse, you sat by and waited. The war outside didn’t matter now. You allowed his sobs to turn to quiet slowly.

When they had, Minghao straightened his back and looked at you. His face was red and blotchy. The pain in his eyes made you want to wrap your heart around him.

“He got shot,” he said at last. His hand reached out for yours and you took it, surprised at the tightness of his fingers around you.

“I found him back in the celebration hall I— I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I couldn’t let Yientan have him so I tried to find a place to hide him but by the time I got here he was barely breathing and—” fresh tears burned in his eyes, “he just— I can’t do this without him I can’t—”

“Hao— ” you started just as a creak in the floorboards made you both jump.

Over a dozen people shuffled into the room, each person looking more perplexed than the next at the sight of Minghao and the emperor. You blinked in surprise at the appearances of the Zhong family, a bit battered and stunned-looking but otherwise fine. Last to enter the room was Tou Ma. Her face paint had smudged, there was blood at her temple and her robe was ripped at the sleeve.

“Stay back, girls,” she said with a voice just as stern as ever before coming over. Her face turned grim the moment she got on her knees and took in the sight. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared and her thin lips parted. She took a few moments to regain her calm. Gently, she flattened out a crinkle in her robe as she cleared her voice at last.

“My prince,” she spoke solemnly, “from the heart of Namin, I offer my deepest condolences.”

Minghao continued to stare down at his father’s chest.

“Tomorrow we mourn the end of the era— tonight—” she paused, her wrinkles tugging into a frown, “tonight lies in your hands.”

The words hung in the dusty storage room air, settling over the people within it, slowly, like bits of falling snow.

“My prince?” Tou Ma said and her voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

Minghao hadn’t moved an inch. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking either.

Strands of messed up hair hung in front of his face as he looked down at the emperor. You knew Minghao understood what Tou Ma had implied. Now that the emperor was dead, Minghao was automatically in charge. It was time for him to fulfill his prophecy and become the legend he was destined to be. Except that Tou Ma hadn’t said it like that exactly. She’d left the decision up to him. Tonight lies in your hands. Somehow, you felt like the head servant understood the pressure that weighed on the prince. She’d left the course of action open so that, should he choose to do so, Minghao could hide away with the rest of the castle’s residents. Should he choose to do so, he could surrender to Yientan. It was up to Minghao to decide his fate, not some legend assigned at birth.

Finally, Minghao looked up at Tou Ma.

“My mother,” he said, “is she safe?”

“Of course, my prince,” Tou Ma replied at once, “she was my first priority. I sent her through the royal passage behind the west room tapestry before bringing others to safety. She must have reached the safe house by now.”

Minghao nodded. “Thank you.” He sat there, thinking for a few more seconds before he stood up.

“I’m going out there. Everyone else stay here.” His voice was monotone, matter-of-fact. “I have to speak to the emperor of Yientan and put a stop to this.”

No one spoke as he turned to leave the room. Even you were too shocked to speak. It was only after he’d left the room that you found the strength to move.

“Silly girl,” Tou Ma said, her voice sharp once more as she grabbed hold of your wrist, “this is the last time I tell you to stay away from him.”

You looked the head servant dead in the eye.

“Then this will be the last time I defy you,” you answered, breaking free from her grasp and running out of the room.

You caught up with Minghao halfway up the stairs. You tugged at his sleeve and called his name, softly, inquiringly. He looked back at you, looking apologetic.

“I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you,” he said quietly, “you’re already hurt.” His eyes went to your cheek, where the sting of the arrow still lingered.

You sighed. “And I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.” You took his hand. “Hao, please,” you went on, “whatever happens, let’s do it together.”

Slowly, a smile formed on the new emperor’s lips. It failed to erase the pain in his reddened eyes but rather coated them in a temporary haze. His fingers tightened around yours and he whispered, “okay.”

“Where are we going?” you asked as you tiptoed through the castle, slipping from shadow to shadow.

“I know where he is,” Minghao replied.

You knew he was talking about the emperor of Yientan. You had no idea what he looked like but you’d overheard plenty of conversations about him during your time in the castle. He was a fierce ruler and a strong man of combat.

“Wait, you’re not going to fight him, are you?”

“No,” he replied, “I’m going to talk to him.”

The throne room looked smaller than usual. A pillar had fallen, dust and debris littered the usually shiny hardwood and on the golden throne sat, not Xu Yilan, but a younger-looking man. He was broad-shouldered and his dark hair fell in a single braid down to his waist. His black and silver armor was still spotless aside from the couple droplets of red that had splashed onto his chest. You almost couldn’t believe he was an emperor and not a war general. Xu Yilan had surely never fought like this. Judging by the tenacity in his eyes, he was enjoying this. Upon noticing Minghao he raised himself from the throne, eyes narrowing.

“Emperor Wu,” Minghao spoke up as he walked to the center of the room.

You decided to stay in the shadows for now. It was better for the Yientan leader not to know a second person was in the room.

“My father, Xu Yilan, is dead by your men’s hands.”

You had no idea how Minghao was keeping his emotions at bay but it was clearly a good thing. The man on the platform drew back, his eyes going wide.

“You,” he said in a gravely voice, “you are Xu Minghao?” He spoke loud and clear but was unable to hide his uneasiness. It was in the way he stood, overly square, and in the stark way his eyes stared ahead.

“I am,” Minghao said, “and I want you to listen to me for a moment.”

Silence. This was good.

“I do not want to fight you,” he went on, “I just want to talk. I want to restore the balance between Namin and Yientan.” He took a deep breath. “I want Yientan to give us back the highlands.”

A low yet booming laughter filled the empty throne room.

“You expect us to just give you back the highlands?” the emperor scoffed, “and what will Yientan receive in return?”

You watched Minghao as a silence trickled into the air. He was completely still, his mind probably racing like a warhorse.

“In return,” he said at last, his voice deep yet clear, “Yientan will be spared the dragon’s wrath.”

You could see the fear spring into the emperor’s eyes.

“You lie, young man,” he said, though it was obvious Minghao’s words had derailed him a bit. Slowly, the man unsheathed a long sword and pointed it at Minghao.

“There is no dragon,” he spat, starting to walk down the platform, “where is your dragon now, huh? Did it come when our people charged your gates? No, it did not.”

Minghao’s chest heaved but he stood his ground. You couldn’t understand how he stayed so calm. He had nothing to defend himself with.

“Did it come when your father was struck down by one of my men?” emperor Wu continued as he approached, “it did not.”

This was all wrong, you thought, panic taking over you.

“Up on the roof of this broken palace, a golden dragon stands, yes,” the emperor said, a wicked smile spreading onto his lips. He was getting too close.

“It is nothing but a symbol of wealth, a meaningless decoration!”

Minghao stood as a statue, defiant.

“It could not save your father, nor your people,” he grinned, “and it surely won’t save you.”

“Stop!” you screamed, breaking away from your hiding spot. Both men turned their heads in surprise, a moment you took to jump in between them, arms out, shielding Minghao from his attacker.

“Don’t hurt him, please!” you cried. You knew you were making foolish decisions but there wasn’t a single cell in your body capable of doing anything else in that moment.

Pain shot through your arm as general Wu grabbed hold of you.

“No!” Minghao yelled, immediately jumping for the general’s second arm in an attempt to tear the sword from his grasp. Your head spun as you were tugged around, the three of you in an awkward tangle until you heard a gasp that could only be Minghao’s. You watched him fall to the floor, clutching his side, where the fabric of his shirt started to color red.

You wanted to scream but before any sound had the chance to leave your lips, the whole room began to shake.

Emperor Wu backed towards the wall, dragging you with him and that’s when you heard it. An ear-piercing cry coming from somewhere up above. The ceiling cracked and gave away right where Minghao crouched. You cried out his name in a desperate attempt to save him when you realized the falling debris wasn’t crushing him. Instead, it turned to dust mid-fall, scattering over the floor like sand on a windy day.

Emperor Wu gave a startled shriek behind you. A massive creature burst through the broken ceiling with another deafening cry. It looked like a giant, glimmering snake with horns. Its fanged mouth was the size of two grown men and its golden scales reflected the devastation in the room. It curled itself around Minhao, who was still on hands and knees on the floor, obscuring him from view. “It— it’s— it can’t be!” the man behind you stuttered, shivering all over. You took the opportunity to yank yourself from his grasp.

The dragon let out a large huff and steam released from its dinner-plate-sized nostrils. You couldn’t help but feel a trickle of fear pulse through you as you approached the beast. But you had to trust.

The dragon’s body uncurled once more, revealing Minghao. He was standing; even more, he looked revitalized. A determent look had taken over his face. He stepped in front of the dragon and addressed the cowering emperor.

“As I said before,” he said, his voice strong and demanding now, “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want this war. Yientan and Namin can live in peace. Even better, we can make each other stronger.” He glanced at you and his eyes filled with warmth. “I know we are different but Namin will no longer fear those differences. It is by cooperating that we will learn and grow—”

The emperor scoffed. “And to achieve this peace of yours,” he grumbled, “I assume you want the highlands back?”

“They belong to Namin,” Minhao replied calmly.

“And what’s next?” emperor Wu went on, his pitch rising, “you’ll invade us with your big dragon protector and we’ll have to give up everything?!”

“No.” Minghao shook his head. “Namin doesn’t need any more. Just the highlands and harmony with Yientan. If you promise me these things, emperor Wu, this dragon will never be used for violence. It too can be a symbol of peace.”

The emperor of Yientan stood there, fighting a fight within himself. All you could do was wait. Minghao didn’t look scared anymore though. The dragon had taken his fear. The cold mask had vanished as well, leaving his eyes exactly the way you remembered them from years ago; kind, curious, inviting. Years of pressure had fallen off of his shoulders, allowing him to stand up straight and confident.

His gaze went to you for a moment and he reached out his hand.

Heart swelling with joy, you took it, feeling more than ever before, like you belonged.

Emperor Wu observed all of this with pain in his eyes. You still had no idea what the man was thinking but you felt safer now, so close to Minghao.

“Alright,” he said finally, starting to walk towards you, “you win, little emperor.” He shook his head in defeat. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about ruling and, mark my words, you will regret the things you’ve said today— all this talk about peace and harmony—” he stopped just a couple feet away from Minghao, “but at least for now, Yientan will bow to Namin.” He bent over into a ninety degree bow and Minghao let show just the tiniest smile. He was proud— and he should have been. You squeezed into his hand and felt him squeeze back when, all of a sudden, a lot of things happened.

Emperor Wu raised himself, drawing from a loop in his belt a tiny dagger and driving it into Minghao’s chest. At the same time, the dragon behind you let out a magnificent roar as it charged at Yientan’s emperor, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. All this time, you stood, frozen to the spot in complete and utter shock.

When you felt Minhao’s hand slip from yours, you cried out his name. You caught him as he staggered and the two of you landed with a soft thud on the floor. Panicked, your hands dove to his chest, looking for the stab wound as tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“Hey,” you heard someone say softly, vaguely but you didn’t have time now. You had to stop the bleeding.

Something took hold of your chin, lifting it. It was Minghao. He was smiling the sweetest smile and you didn’t understand.

“I’m okay,” he said, pulling aside his robes, revealing nothing but a light cut along his ribcage.

“Hao,” you sniffled as his thumb came to wipe away some of your tears.

“I’m okay,” he said again, nodding softly.

And so all the adrenaline fled your body. Without a second thought, you flung your arms around his neck and hugged him close. It was a hug such as you’d shared when you were children; one made of pure happiness. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You were still crying, sort of, but you were sure it was the good kind of crying.

A gentle hand landed on top of your head, patting it in a soothing manner. You took it all in, the feel of him, his scent, the way his heart beat against yours.

“Everything is gonna be alright now, right?” you mumbled into his chest.

You felt him sigh.

“I think so.”

The following days were some of the strangest of your entire life.

The emperor of Yientan wasn’t dead. The dragon had hit him pretty bad but it had ultimately left the decision up to Minghao. Minghao, who of course decided to have the foreign emperor nursed back to health by Namin’s finest doctors. He still believed that peace between the two lands was possible.

You and Minghao, along with all remaining castle staff, had temporarily moved into the castle gardens. Most of the garden staff huts had apparently been spared from the fight. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it was enough for the time being.

Not that you didn’t have any other options.

News of the attack and especially the return of the dragon had spread like wildfire through the cities and towns of Namin. Wealthy traders and investors offered their own residences in honor of the new legendary emperor but Minghao had turned them all down. He said he wanted to help rebuild the castle.

“Besides, I don’t know if I’m ready to face them yet.” Minghao’s face was contemplative as you two sat overlooking the rose garden from a hilltop.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

He leaned back onto his hands. “I don’t know,” he said, “I’m not ready to be their legend, truly this time. How am I supposed to— after my father.” He shook his head. “I’m no better than him. He was just a man and so am I.”

Up in the sky, the golden dragon trailed patterns in the afternoon clouds. It had fluttered around the gardens all day; a beacon of hope.

“I know I have a job to do but—” he said finally, “I still can’t help but feel like I’m losing something precious.”

You nodded, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “Things will be more complicated,” you admitted. It was true. You didn’t want to sugarcoat that for him. However, you weren’t worried.

“But you won’t be doing any of it alone.”

You could feel him start to smile as his arm slid around your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Your majesty,” a tense voice said.

It was Tou Ma. You were surprised to find you were happy to see her.

“We have received word from your mother. She will be coming home in a few days. The Zhong family meanwhile have arrived home this morning. They are well.”

Minghao nodded, his face stony but a lot going on behind his eyes.

“Should I send word back?”

“No,” Minghao was quick to answer but then he caught himself, “I think I’ll write Zhong Mei and her parents a letter myself. They deserve that.” He was frowning to himself now. “And tell my mother I’m sorry— and can’t wait for her arrival.”

“I will,” Tou Ma said solemnly, her eyes trailing off. She was searching for words.

“What is it?” Minghao questioned.

Tou Ma pursed her lips.

“He is awake.”

You followed Minghao to one of the larger huts in the garden, where emperor Wu was being treated. The room was bare, save for a bed and a night stand upon which stood a bowl of water and a clean cloth. A middle-aged lady in simple blue robes stood by his bed. The moment she noticed Minghao, she fell into a deep bow.

“That’s alright,” Minghao said, taking her hands as she rose, “thank you for your amazing work.”

The woman went red in the face but smiled brightly back at him.

The emperor of Yientan still suffered a few bruises, one below his left eye. You couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy around him so you watched Minghao approach from a distance.

“How are you feeling?” he asked the man in the bed.

Emperor Wu let out a heavy sigh as his eyes landed on Minghao.

“I’ve been better,” he said.

There was a silence you weren’t sure of the meaning of. Minghao seemed to be waiting.

“I’ve sat here for a while now, you know,” he went on, “been awake since sometime last night— in and out of it most likely— but I’ve been thinking.”

The man in the bed looked nothing like he had during the battle. He’d been full of fire then. Now, he had a depleted look about him.

“Do you know what I was thinking?”

Minghao shook his head softly.

To your surprise, the emperor of Yientan let out a chuckle. Maybe he really had suffered brain damage after all.

“I was thinking, why am I in this comfortable bed?” he snickered lowly, “I thought I might have died. Thought it might be the afterlife. But then I was informed of your decision to let me live. To let me go.” His face went sad suddenly, brows furrowed. He looked almost silly.

“I realized I admire you, your majesty. You chose to spare the life of the man who invaded your land and took it for his own, the man responsible for your father’s death, the man that might have been responsible for your own death—” he let out another chuckle. “I thought you must be either mad or genius— I, um— I’m still not truly certain which one it is but I can say one thing for sure: you’ve got more bravery in that little body of yours than I’ve seen in any ruler of my lifetime. And I have no choice but to respect that.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your hands were anxiously clutched in front of your chest.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Minghao said, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

Emperor Wu raised himself in the bed, took the cloth from the nightstand and wiped his face with it. When his face was revealed once more, he was smiling.

“Alright,” he said, looking up at Minghao, “let’s get this over with. Let’s talk.”

This is how Namin was restored. The highlands were returned and multiple treaties were formed between Namin and Yientan, promising peace and collaboration for all time to come.

Minghao hugged his mother close a few nights later, and a ceremony was held for the death of Xu Yilan. It was a sombre meeting in a nearby temple, the only other attendees aside from direct family the thousands of fireflies that lit up the air.

Then, finally, it was time to go public with everything that had happened. The coming of the legend emperor had to be celebrated and the people of Namin were not going to let that opportunity go to waste. Banners were raised, fireworks set off, as a magnificent parade made its way through the capital.

Throughout all this, you found yourself completely overwhelmed, not only because so much was happening at once, but also because Minghao wanted you to be a part of it all.

“Are you alright?” Minghao whispered into your ear.

You hardly knew how to respond to that. You were sitting in a luxurious golden carriage, wearing the most beautiful silk you’d ever laid eyes on. Layers of pale pinks and greens, adorned with gold thread fell from your shoulders. Your hair had been elegantly put together by Tou Ma herself that morning, with flowers and ribbons she’d handpicked for you. If all that wasn’t enough to make your heart do cartwheels, Minghao, the new emperor of Namin sat beside you, holding your hand while he waved at the people cheering. And there were a lot of people around you. It seemed as if all of Namin had come out to watch the procession. You weren’t as confident as Minghao, darting your hand up occasionally to wave at the public, only to change your mind the next second and put it back down.

“I’m terrified,” you replied, “ecstatic and overjoyed and terrified.”

“That sounds about right,” he said, grinning, “but don’t worry, we’ll be there soon.”

Surely enough, the procession halted in the main square of the capital. A tall platform had been put up in the center of it. As you’d expected, your carriage opened its doors right beside it. It was time for Minghao to give his speech. With one last smile in your direction he left for the platform. You watched him breath in and out, visibly shaking the nerves out of his body before he began.

“People of Namin,” he spoke loud and clear, “in the last week, a lot of things have happened and rumors have run rampant. I believe you all deserve to know exactly what has happened at the castle and what this means for the future of Namin.”

You looked in complete awe and adoration, as Minghao explained the events of the past weeks and even before that; the protests, the arrival of the Zhong family and their plans, the attack, death of Xu Yilan and finally, the legend of the dragon.

“It is true,” Minghao said, “the dragon lives once more.”

Just then, a bright glimmer fell all over the square and the people squinted upwards to see the golden dragon fly overhead.

“It will protect Namin for as long as I live and hopefully longer.”

The crowd erupted in jubilant cheers. Minghao took this opportunity to look back at you. You were suddenly highly aware of the ridiculously wide grin that had been plastered on your face ever since he’d begun his speech. He returned it gladly and, to your surprise, beckoned you to join him onto the platform.

Your eyes went the size of daisies as you vigorously shook your head at him. He only smiled kindly at you and turned back around as the commotion had died down mostly.

“My dear people, it has been a glorious day!” he yelled “but I have one more announcement to make.”

This turned the whole crowd silent.

“Throughout the challenges of the past week I have had to be strong. In order for the dragon to arise, I’ve had to be strong. I’m the true leader, I’m Namin’s hope, I am a legend come to life— I’ve been hearing these types of statements all around and I would like to say that, while your praise is appreciated, I fear I’m not entirely deserving—”

“There’s a reason I’ve been able to be strong. There’s a reason I’ve been able to keep my head on the right track, there’s a reason I feel like I can be a worthy leader to you all and it is a reason entirely outside of myself.”

He turned back around to face you. Your face went hot when you realized he was actually coming down to fetch you. He took your hand, gave you the most loving smile and pulled you up.

Everything looked simultaneously tiny and overwhelming from up on the platform. Luckily you had Minghao holding onto your hand or you for sure would’ve fainted.

“I can be the leader I am because of this woman,” he said, “she has been the one thing that’s grounded me in all of this and if it hadn’t been for her, I’m not sure I’d be standing here making this speech today.”

Your heart was pounding out of control and you felt lightheaded. You were grateful when Minghao’s arm slid around your waist and steadied you.

“On this special day, we celebrate the resilience and rebirth of Namin,” Minghao stated confidently, “but I would also like to use this day to profess my undying love for the girl standing beside me.”

A sea of murmurs welled up from the crowd. Minghao came to face you again and suddenly, he looked less like an emperor and more like the boy you’d always known.

“I’ve always loved you,” he said quietly, “it’s always been you.” His hand came to hold your face gently. “I know the life I lead from now on will be full of challenges and responsibilities, it will be a life in the spotlight, maybe—” he sighed, “maybe nothing like the life you’d imagined for yourself but—” he was really searching for words now, his eyes darting in all directions until they finally landed back on yours.

“If you’ll have me, I would love for you to share that life with me.”

It was as if a collection of fireworks set off inside of you, shooting from the top of your head all the way down to your toes, setting you aflame. It was an overload of feelings. You didn’t even notice the tear trickling down your cheek until Minghao wiped it away.

“So, will you?” he asked, looking like he might collapse from nerves as well now.

The smile burst free from its own accord as the reality of the situation finally sank in.

“Yes, of course!” you let out and your arms flung themselves around Minghao’s neck.

Now the people of Namin were really cheering, their noise like drums in your head as you embraced Minghao. Even when you broke apart the cheering didn’t stop; it only grew wilder as Minghao pressed his lips to yours.

In all your life you’d never thought this would be yours. Even as a child you’d known that Minghao, your playmate wasn’t to be wanted. He was different, above others, untouchable, and for years you’d struggled to come to terms with that grim fact. And yet here he was, in front of you and all of Namin, telling you he loved you. It was the beginning of a new era for Namin and it seemed that its residents were ready for change. And you were more than certain Minghao was the right person to lead the people with justice and, above all, love.

♥

#minghao #minghao fluff #the8 #the8 fluff #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #prince au #prince minghao #minghao imagines #minghao scenarios #xu minghao #royal au #minghao x reader #minghao x you #seventeen fluff #series #fluff #angst #thank you

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helpinghanikan · 4 years ago

Text

I know it’s late

Viktor Vector x V

Sum: It's raining in Night City and V's too tired to make it home. Luckily the Doctor is in.

AN: Straight up a fluffy one shot about Viktor letting V crash in the same bed for a night. IDK how to write that in fancy summary talk.

Night City smells like shit when it rains. The old sewage system was kept together through around the clock droids with welders and so much industrial tape the rings could be counted to tell the pipe’s age. Even then, an influx of liquid pushed those old pipes to the limit.

The same could be said for Night City’s best ripperdoc: held together through around the clock maintenance and industrial tape taking the form of coffee. Even then he went to bed with a sore back and a funny smell. The apartment’s shower (which had the pressure of a watering can) did little to help. By the time he crawls in bed the entire outside will smell as bad as it is, and he’ll place those extra thick windows in his online cart.

For now, those thinner windows were vulnerable. People around here knew the friendly ‘doc living above the spiritual chick’s shop and didn’t want to risk the community’s wrath by messing with him. But that didn’t stop Misty, living on the other side of the hallway, from chaining up the bottom entrance.

But there are still no guarantees those two things will stop everyone. The intense rain, and just how deeply Viktor sleeps, there wasn’t a chance he’d hear the window slide open from the top. That he didn’t stir at a full-grown adult landing on his floor was his own fault, especially when that person is soaking and stomping across the tile floor to the bed.

“Vik…” the intruder whispers. Smart enough to wake him from the end of his bed, gently grabbing his ankles, rather than near his arms and hands. Where his most skilled weapons are. “Viktor.” They say a bit more firmly.

The bed is not prepared for sudden movement. Creaking louder than any yell Viktor could make as he shot up, sitting straight up with a hand locked into a fist. Legs pulled up and away from the intruder while he tries to figure out what the Hell is going on.

“It’s V,” The intruder says, hands up to show they weren’t dangerous. “it’s me V, don’t hit me.”

Viktor let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Reaching over to the side table for his glasses. That he still used them rather than getting some chrome was his way of reminding the world of its greatest humor: Irony.

“Hi V,” He says with a stretch, shock from the B&E leaving him awake. “You know, there’s this great new invention called a phone. You can use it to call people, send messages, have you heard of it?”

“I broke it.” They said, hands falling to their sides in an slap against their soaked legs.

Viktor has seen V in almost every state imaginable. With blood and puke, limbs barely attached by muscle and wires, and naked without a single stitch. In both the medical and intimate context of form.

He’s seen V like this too; shivering and too tired to even stand without moving into a wider stance, even then wavering on their feet. Viktor stands, taking the few steps to be in V’s space; his bare hand tucked under V’s arm, snug in the armpit to keep them from falling straight off their feet, and to keep them from making a too easy escape. With his other he held V’s head. Tilting it back just enough for the light of the window to catch their face. Aside for groans at being manhandled there were only a few bruises on them.

“I’m not hurt or nothin’,” V says. “Just real fuckin’ tired. Lost all my stuff in the water and I can’t make it back. Viktor, please.”

A mental note was made to drag out what exactly happened to V later. For now, he lets them go. They could talk all they want about Viktor’s being closer, or being too tired or any other excuse but, in reality, a warm body sleeping close by was an underrated privilege. Something V has abused time and time again, not that Viktor has ever complained. Afterall, it was never discussed what exactly “friend’s with benefits” actually covered.

“Lose the wet clothes first.” Viktor says, as if he wasn’t participating in the stripping. Rolling up and removing V’s shirt and pants with the professionalism of any worthwhile ripperdoc.

Viktor’s plan was to get some older clothes for his guest. One of the tees from back in the day, a pair of shorts that, although itchy, would at least give the impression of modesty (so long as they didn’t try moving in it). He didn’t even make it to the dresser before V flopped, face first, onto the bed. Right over the unclaimed side without even thinking about covers or modesty.

“I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.” Viktor says, waiting a few seconds for a response. When he doesn’t get one he sighs, getting to work in moving dead weight that groans at being bothered in the slightest.

With V tucked in (and his once clean sheets now smelling like old pipes) Viktor joined. Like a heat seeking missile V finds him in the mess of thick quilts and sheets. Although their arms are moist, and hair is wet Viktor doesn’t do anything to avoid being pulled into them. Being rewarded for his submission with a smiley kiss on his cheek and a leg sliding between his. A silent promise for more entertaining activities later in the night if the chance arises.

The chance never arose.

Instead, V slept through the entire night with minimal twitching. Even through Viktor’s snoring which has been described as “the closest thing to a chainsaw I’ve ever heard,” by V after only two nights together. Apparently long enough for V to forget about the romantic manners that involve ignoring your partner’s quirks.

Only knitted eyebrows showed that V heard the alarm. Quickly turned off with an, slightly overly aggressive, grab by Viktor. Try as he might, Viktor could not slip out from the bed without seeing those eyebrows knit again.

“What time…What?” V asks the empty space when Viktor finally escapes.

V has been described in many ways by many different people: As monstrous with blood in their hair and a hot weapon in their hands. Or as sexy with an opened mouth smile and heaving chest, both hands on Viktor’s shoulders to keep in down. V has even been called pitiful while bleeding on the ground, yelling curses even on the verge of tears and defeat. But now with a quilt over their head like a hood, slow blinking eyes, and a tired voice? They were downright adorable.

“Go back to sleep,” Viktor says, leaning forward on the bed. Catching V’s chin and leading them forward in a chaste kiss. “I’m going to the clinic.”

“Sorry, I’m getting up.” V says in that same tired voice.

Viktor’s hand slid around V’s jaw and to the back of their neck. Giving another kiss matched with a groan to get their attention. “V, sleep.” He orders in his own low voice.

V laid back down with a smile on their face. If it were anyone else they would have forced themselves awake, yawning and flipping off whoever dared tell them to do something. But it was Viktor, with Viktor’s voice, so down they went. Gone from the waking world before Viktor had finished dressing.

In a few hours V would walk by. “Catch you later, Viktor,” They’d say in passing. Mostly dressed but for their shirt. Purposefully waiting to be in Viktor’s office (hopefully alone, but witnesses were welcome) before pulling it down. An action asking for attention but still disguised as casual. Also a promise that, like many times before, V will pay him back.

#Cyberpunk 2077 #Viktor Vector #Viktor Vector x V #Victor Vector x V #gender neutral fanfic #oneshot #We were deprived of romance #Fluff #viktor x v #Viktor/V #Female V #Male V #victor vector #victor vector x v #cp77 #cp2077

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corruptedconfessions · 4 years ago

Note

I hope your nose pain will one day pass along with mine😔. Thots on doin a part two for that yandere neko hitoshi in heat, where he kidnaps his darling and finally breeds her? I don't know what I just read, but I like it👁️👁️

Link to Part 1

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for like a month? Whoops, im sorry anon. I hope it was worth the wait. It got away from me and took longer but also got longer than I planned.

Day 16! of monster fics a day

This one has references to Shinsou wanting to breed you, and actively fucking you with the intent to get you preggy but its gender neutral other than that!

Warnings: dubcon, consent to questionable consent

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

You had been enjoying the quiet stillness of the night, curled up on your couch, wrapped up in a blanket in front of the TV, flicking through channels mindlessly, more so enjoying the background noise than actually watching anything. Everything was quiet and peaceful, and you felt yourself almost slipping into a light doze.

At least until a loud thud shook your front door, like something had hit it, something large. You sat still for a moment, staring at your door in confusion, deciding if you wanted to get up and investigate or shrug it off and melt back into the sofa below you.

A soft knocking at your door made the decision for you.

Groaning softly in complaint you threw your blanket to the side as you stood, stumbling over to the door. You placed a hand on the doorknob before you paused, hesitating for a moment before deciding to peep through the peephole. You stood up on the tips of your toes to get a good look, gasping in shock at what you saw. There, leaning heavily against your door was Shinsou, barefoot and covered in scrapes, sweating heavily as he practically relied on the door to stay standing.

You immediately swung open the door, staring at the neko in fear and confusion, noting that his normally perfectly groomed fur was sticking out every which way as well. And his eyes…Normally they were big and round, reminding you of a cute little kitten, but now they were slitted, sharper, angrier as his gaze snapped to you.

“Shinsou?! What happened are you-”

You were cut off as the neko suddenly lunged at you, pushing you back into the room as he shut the door behind him with his foot, waiting until it clicked shut before he tackled you, sending you sprawling to the ground. Your eyes squeezed shut, waiting for your head to hit the ground, but he moved faster, a hand moving to cup the back of your head, absorbing the impact. You found yourself sprawled on your back, staring up at your friend as he towered above you, caging you against the floor as he stared down at you.

“S-Shinsou?”

You couldn’t stop the soft confused whimper that bubbled out of you as you stared up at him with wide confused eyes. What was going on with him? Normally he was so even tempered, never reacting to much or getting upset, he even would let you pet his ears and play with his hair, something you were told nekos almost never did.

“Are you hurt?”

Slowly as to not startle him you raised your hand, moving to cup his cheek tenderly. He immediately pushed into the touch, a low rumble coming from him as he turned to nuzzle your palm gently.

“Am…okay.”

His voice was deeper than normal, rough and ragged, more animalistic. It would almost scare you if it weren’t for the way he kept nuzzling your hand, dragging his rough tongue across your palm gently.

“Then what’s wrong?”

You brought your other hand up to cradle his face, watching with wide eyes as his breath hitched and he arched closer to your touch, shuttering hard as he nearly pushed against your hand hard enough that you couldn’t help but chuckle, sliding it into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

“Need to…need to fuck you~”

He rumbled low and deep in his throat, rolling his hips down against yours. You gasped softly in surprise, jumping when you felt his hard on, everything suddenly clicking into place.

“O-oh!”

You stared at him, everything making sense now, his sensitivity, the way he was panting and sweating like he had just ran a mile. The new little…friend that was currently being rubbed against your thigh shamelessly.

“I-I…Okay.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In a second your clothes were ripped off of you, claws shredding through the fabric like paper as a low possessive growl bubbled from his throat. He leaned down claiming your lips in a kiss that was almost all teeth and blood as his clawed fingers slid down to rub harshly at your sex. You were gasping and whimpering against his lips, hands going up to grab at his chest, pushing him away lightly.

“Shinsou…Bedroom.”

The neko growled down at you, burying his face into your neck as he kept rubbing roughly at you, leaving you gasping and wincing at the harsh rub against dry skin. You reached up to pet his hair, stroking it lightly as he panted against your skin, clearly eager and desperate.

“We need lube, baby~ And my back hurts…I need the bed.”

He huffed low in his throat, scooping you up as your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands slid under your ass. You rolled your hips down against the bulge that was already straining hard against his jeans, pulling another ragged noise out of the neko. The claws on his toes clicked against the floor loudly as he rushed to your bedroom, throwing you down on the bed and immediately crawling ontop of you. You arched up, reaching to grab the lube from your bedside drawer as he fumbled with his jeans, managing to get them off without tearing them to shreds like he had done to yours.

“Calm down-!”

You yelped softly when he tackled you back down to the bed, pinning you down with his body as he snatched the lube from your hand, pouring it all over his fingers before pushing his claws against your twitching hole.

“S-shinsou wait- The claws-”

You gasped cutting off when he suddenly shoved two fingers into you, immediately pumping them in and out of you. You hissed softly at the burn but luckily his claws didn’t scratch you as you had feared. More lube was poured directly on you hole, causing you to squeal in shock as he added another finger quickly. You wanted to complain, to hiss up at him to slow down but when you looked up the look in his eyes was…feral. You supposed you were lucky that he was holding himself back long enough to prep you at all. Part of you was touched that he was so caring to stop and worry about hurting you even when he was straddling the line between control and being lost to his instincts.

Surprisingly despite his impatience when pushing his fingers into you, he took his time prepping you, stretching and rubbing at your walls until you were relaxed around him. You were whimpering and rocking down into his touches by the time he pulled his fingers out, pushing your legs up to your chest as he lined himself up.

“Shinsou…”

You panted his name softly, watching as purple eyes flicked up to you, narrowing in on your flushed desperate look before he was thrusting in. You threw your head back, fingers clawing at the sheets as he bottomed out in one thrust. Any restraint he seemed to have before was gone as he started thrusting, his claws dug into where he was holding onto your thighs, feeling like pin pricks across your skin as he growled openly, snapping his hips forward into you.

All you could do was cling to the sheets and take it, gasping and crying out up at him as he fucked you hard. It didn’t take him long before he was angling his thrusts, slitted eyes staring into you as he searched for that little sweet spot that would have you desperate for his cock. Within moments he found it. You moaned his name loudly, tightening up around him as he brushed against it, sending shocks of pleasure through you briefly. He pulled out, adjusting his hips before hitting the spot dead on this time.

Your loud moans and cries joined his possessive growls and grunts, harmonizing with the sound of his hips slapping against yours. Already you could feel the sweat forming across your skin as you twisted the sheets in your grasp, whimpering and gasping Shinsou’s name as you tried to roll your hips down into his thrusts. He leaned in closer, pushing your legs apart so he could latch onto one of your nipples, sharp teeth scraping across the sensitive bud as he kept fucking you, leaving you shaking with pleasure under him as he now pushed deeper into your guts. You let go of your sheets just to wrap your arms around him as he growled against your chest, nuzzling himself closer to your touch as he started thrusting faster.

You stayed like that, moaning and whimpering for him as your nipples were sucked until they were red and puffy, a cluster of claiming bites marking the skin of your chest and shoulders before you felt that familiar tightening in your core.

“S-shinsou-!”

You clawed at his back weakly, your nails leaving angry red lines down his skin as he snarled, apparently in a similar state as his hips stuttered. He pressed his face hard against your neck, panting and mumbling something against it.

“W-what-?”

You were cut off when he suddenly sunk his teeth into your skin, clamping down on your neck hard enough that blood flooded his mouth. The shock of pain sent you tumbling over the edge, crying out as you came hard, suddenly being thrown over the edge you had been slowly building towards. Only a few thrusts later you could feel him growling into where he was still latched onto your neck as he spilled inside of you, thrusting his hips to push his cum as deep inside of you as he could, something that made your face scrunch up uncomfortably. Should’ve made him wear a condom…

You groaned hissing softly when he finally let go of your neck, the spot already pulsing with pain as he started dragging his tongue across it, lapping up the blood that welled up from the wounds.

“Ew- Gross, Shinsou stop.”

You pushed at his face as he slowly lowered your thighs down, still trying to lean in to lick your neck even more, only to be foiled by your hands over his mouth.

“Why did you bite me?”

You hissed softly in pain, twisting around onto your stomach to reach over to your bedside table, reaching for the wet wipes you kept in the same drawer as the lube. You had just managed to brush your fingers against the handle of the drawer when a low deep growl interrupted you. You moved to turn your head, about to ask the neko what his problem was when clawed hands grabbed your hips roughly, dragging you back until your ass was pressed against a very hard bulge.

“Wha-”

“Not done yet…Need to breed you up full, stuff you full of my kits. My beautiful mate…”

He mumbled quietly against your neck as he pulled you back under him, his cock bumping against your loose hole before slowly sinking back in, leaving you gasping and straining against his tight hold. What was he- You whimpered softly, raw and sensitive as he started thrusting his hips again, rubbing a hand over your belly as he pressed kisses to the bite mark on the side of your neck.

“My pretty little mate…”

You shook whimpering as he started fucking you in earnest, balls slapping against your skin as he grunted and growled, hand pressing hard against your stomach as he fucked into you.

“Im going to stuff you so full, kitten~ You be so round and happy with my pups…You’ll be my pretty little mate won’t you? I won’t let anyone else touch you…”

You could barely hear his rambles into the back of your neck over the blood rushing in your ears. Everything felt numb, you felt like you couldn’t cum again, you were too sensitive, too fresh from your last orgasm and yet you found yourself climbing towards the edge again, shaking and whimpering up at Shinsou as you clenched down on him.

“W-wait! Shinsou!!”

You nearly sobbed as your orgasm crashed down on you, cumming hard around his cock, walls twitching and clenching down on him. He growled grunting in your ear as he fucked you through your orgasm, only lasting a few seconds with your walls milking his cock like you were made for it. He sunk his teeth into the back of your neck this time, the bite mark joining and matching the one on the side of your neck, though he let go quickly this time, mumbling desperately into your skin as he lapped at the injured flesh.

“Good mate~ Take my cum, yes…good mate, good.”

You sobbed for real when he only paused for a second before he started thrusting again, still completely hard as he started fucking you once again, pushing your hips up so his cum wouldn’t slide out of you. Your sensitive hole twitched around him desperately, feeling raw and fucked out but that just seemed to encourage him further.

You had a very, very long week ahead of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~?

Groaning softly Shinsou squinted against the bright light peering in from your curtains. Rolling over his arm groped for you body instinctively before he froze, realizing where he was and what he was doing. Immediately he sat up, desperately searching the room for you until he saw a note on your bedside table.

Shinsou, I went out for a bit.

His stomach dropped. Desperately he tried to scan his memory for any clips of the past seven? Days. Fuck. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been. It was all a blur, he couldn’t remember anything concrete. Only…feelings. If he tried really hard he could vaguely recall sinking his teeth into your neck…tasting the metallic tang of your blood against his tongue.

He had claimed you. Marked you up as his mate…The thought both excited and terrified him. You were finally his…forever. But he hadn’t wanted to do it like this…had he scared you? What if you never wanted to see him again?

He couldn’t help the panic boiling inside of him as he pulled on his pants, nor as he cleaned up the mess of your room and put your sheets and blankets in the washer for you, or even when he was carefully locking your door with the spare key you hid on top of the frame. You had just gotten up and…left. He didn’t know if you were happy or angry with him. He didn’t know how badly he had hurt you during his heat, or if he had hurt you at all. He didn’t know anything!

Well, he knew one thing. He had fucked up big time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

He barely managed to make it home, now painfully aware of the sharp rocks on the sidewalk digging into and cutting his feet, aware of how far he had run on foot to get to you, aware of just how rabid he would have had to be to be this desperate…

He immediately headed straight to his nest, collasping into it as he curled up into a little ball. Everything inside of him was screaming at him to go find his mate, make sure they were okay, protect his mate, just be with them. But he couldn’t bring himself to even pick up the phone to call you. What if you hated him now??? You were his everything! His world, his life, his air! His entire reason for existing! You couldn’t hate him!

He wasn’t sure what he would do if you did.

He cursed the lingering heat hormones pumping through him for the way tears burned in his dry eyes, the way his thoughts were racing too fast for him to keep up with. It was all about you you you. The way you smelled, the way you looked, the way you would be heavy with his pups one day…

You belonged to him. You were meant to be with him! You were his mate! There was no way you couldn’t want to stay with him, right? You would stay with him, shielded away from the world and its harsh realities, his happy little mate, content by his side with kits on your hip. There was no way you would possibly deny him, your mate…not when you were already his! You had stayed with him the whole heat, let him mark you, let him claim you! You couldn’t say no to him now!

He was sure you just left because you were scared…he had been a bad mate and hadn’t explained it all to you! But he was sure once he showed up you would understand! Surely you would find comfort in his presence just as he found comfort in yours!

He just needed an in…

His eyes trailed over to the cum stained hoodie still crumpled in the center of his nest. That could work…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~?

He nervously pet the folded hoodie held carefully in his arms for what must have been the hundredth time, the nerves building up inside of him again now that he was here, back at your door, with shoes this time.

Still, he couldn’t back down now, already he could feel the buzz under his skin. He knew you were inside, and it was agony to be apart from you for a second more, so he rang the doorbell, stepping back and waiting patiently for you.

When you opened the door you had nothing on but a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt. The collar sliding off your shoulder and showing the various mating bites he had left all over your skin, most of them bruised and healing but one, the first one, his mating bite was clearly scarring. The sight had his stomach warming as a possessive thrill shot through him.

“What do you want, Shinsou?”

He frowned, flinching back at your cold tone as he held up the hoodie he had stolen borrowed from you. Freshly washed and definitely not absolutely drenched in his scent.

“I brought back your hoodie.”

You stared at the hoodie for a second before glancing up back to his eyes. You must have seen something there in them, probably how pitiful and desperate he was after being separated from his mate for so long, but something in your eyes softened as you sighed, stepping aside.

“Come on.”

His ears perked up when you offered for him to come inside, tail wagging happily behind him as he entered your home. He couldn’t help the soft pleased purr that rumbled out of his throat as he was enveloped in your scent, the most perfect smell in the world~ The only thing that could make it better was if it was intertwined with his~

He handed you the jacket when you reached for it, watching you walk down the hallway to your bedroom with it draped over your arm. He practically glowed, chest warming when you lifted it to your nose and sniffed it.

“What laundry detergent do you use? This smells really good?”

“Just some no name brand.”

He kept his tone neutral as he shrugged, but he couldn’t help but watch your ass as you moved, purring as he licked his lips. Your scents would mix together soon enough~ After all he had no intention of leaving or letting you leave ever again~

#yandere #monstermonth #shinsou x reader #neko #fantasyau

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yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen · 4 years ago

Text

The Next One’s on You 4/5

This one is going to hurt. I’m sorry. Here is chapter four: Champagne. Thank you so much for your support. I love every reblog, comment, and like. Pairing: Maxwell Lord x F! Reader

Warning: 18 + for language, mentions of pregnancy, toxic relatives Taglist: @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @mrsparknuts @ghostwiththemostbitch @zannemes @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @maxlordsgf

My Masterlist

Chapter Four: Champagne

From the outside the coffee shop looks closed for the evening, the neon's are off, the chairs are up, and all is quiet. Except for the light bleeding from under the door that leads to the back room. There you sit, on the cold freshly mopped tile in the most expensive dress you could ever imagine. Heels kicked off, knees pulled up to your chest, and head down. You slowly raise your head and see your face reflected off the walk in across the room. A diamond headband in your hair, curls falling out of the once elegant up-do, and mascara running down your cheeks. This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but it’s quickly become the worst.

Becoming a figure in the public eye was never part of your ideal life plan. But, falling in love with Maxwell Lord IV and becoming his future wife, did not leave you with much of a choice. When he made the announcement at the next public event the press went crazy. Tearing apart every inch of your life with tweezers, paying old friends, roommates, people you had gone to school with for even a smidge of gossip. They were ruthless and hounded you all hours of the day from the moment you stepped outside your home and then all the way to work. At the coffee shop business was booming and every day you felt like the new animal at the zoo. Everyone coming to stick their ugly faces against the glass and ooh and ahh at the barista who had managed to ensnare Maxwell Lord.

They weren’t interested in who you were as a person or even how you had fallen in love. Because stuff like that, it doesn’t sell papers. Luckily, your fiancé had been navigating the press for years and knew how to keep them off your tail in your private life. Shielding you from them in the comfort of your own home and helping him plan the ‘wedding of the century.’ Maxwell hired a wedding planner that he thought would get along with you and thankfully Juliet was perfect. She was organized, professional, and knew exactly what you wanted.

Yes, it wasn’t the small intimate wedding you had always hoped for but at least it wasn’t gaudy. Invitations had been sent out, food ordered, floral arrangements chosen, cake sampled, everything was going according to plan. Even going dress shopping with your mother, and grandmother had been perfect. Finding an eggshell colored dress with no train and small puffs on the sleeves. The salesgirl had placed a diamond headband in your hair holding the veil in place and giggled telling you it was sent over by Mr. Lord as a wedding present. The headband was white gold and had leaves encrusted with diamonds that shimmered in the light.

The big day was fast approaching, and thankfully Mrs. Lord the former was nowhere in sight. Although it didn’t leave you with a good feeling in your stomach, she had been too quiet.

On your wedding day you woke up bright and early, Juliet bringing you breakfast in bed and going over the schedule for the day. You sipped a cup of coffee and smiled just letting her talk. When she was finished a team of stylists came in and got you ready. Manicure, pedicure, massage, makeup, and an elegant up-do, you glowed from the attention. When the dress was lifted over your head and cinched into place your breath caught in the mirror at your reflection. Fingers tracing over the fabric soft under your fingers and fitting just perfectly. They slid the diamond headband in place, and you wiped quickly at the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Oh honey,” you turn and laugh as your father cries watching you, “you’re so beautiful.” You hold out your arms and hug him and he squeezes you tight. Juliet ushers the two of you down and to the limo to take you to the cathedral. The only church big enough for all the guests you had been forced to invite. When you step from the limo you feel like Princess Diana on the television and give a small wave to the growing crowds. Fingers digging into your fathers’ arm as he confidently leads you forward. Inside are your roommates and friends Michael and Robin acting as your bridesmaid/man. They are ushered down the aisle to the wedding march and your dad takes a deep breath leading you.

Your steps are slow and sure as you pass the elegant floral arrangements of white roses. The petals lining the aisle as you smile at some of the familiar faces. When you look up your breath is sucked out and you beam at your husband to be. Wearing a tuxedo and a hint of a familiar pocket square sticking out. He’s perfect, and smiling so brightly he rivals the sun, as he watches you glide toward him.

You reach out to grab his hand and feel it tighten around your own. His eyes glassy with unshed tears as he smiles at you. Not the fake one from the television but the one he reserves just for you, warm and so full of love. You beam right back at him and mouth I love you before turning to the officiant. You choose not to write your own vows instead following along with the usual lines. Saving your vows for when you’re alone later. When he comes to ask for objections your smile dims as the sound of heels clacking on the floor directs your attention to the aisle.

Mrs. Lord in a white chanel suit is stalking towards you with a sneer. Maxwell moves to stand in front of you when the doors at the back of the church open and in walks….Tom? Your sleazy date from the first night with Maxwell is strutting confidently up the aisle wearing a tuxedo and smiling broadly, coming to stand beside Maxwell’s mother.

“Hi baby,” he coos at you and you shudder.

“What is the meaning of this?” Maxwell hisses clearly angry.

“I have come to bring an end to this sorry excuse for a wedding. My son,” she turns to the crowd like the detective in the novels you read does before unraveling the great mystery, “has been tricked by this little harlot! She has been part of a plot to steal my son’s money and company from the beginning!” She turns to gesture at Tom. “Thomas here told me of her scheme. One year ago, she hired him to pretend to be her date and take advantage of her. She knew my son would be at the restaurant and wanted him to come to her aid.”

“That’s absolute bullsh-“ you're cut off as Michael steps forward.

“It’s true! She asked if I knew anyone she could use as a date to trap some rich guy, I never knew she meant Maxwell Lord,” he points at you and your heart beats loudly in your ears watching one of your oldest friends lie to your face.

“I was there that night, the night she needed to be ‘rescued’ she was all over my son and straddling him on the couch, sure didn’t look like someone who just needed comfort to me!” she shrieks, and several people scoff in outrage although at who it isn’t clear.

She continues on and on making more outlandish claims and each time you go to defend yourself another of your friends, coworkers, or even acquaintances would step forward and collaborate with her. Until you are in tears and Maxwell is withdrawing further and further away from you. The room goes silent as she makes the biggest claim of all, “AND I know she is pregnant! The little bitch is trying to claim my son is the father of her bastard child!”

Maxwell frozen turns to stare at you and your mouth drops open a hand coming to quickly cover it as the tears stream down your cheeks. From the back of the room another voice speaks out, “I can confirm it! She had the appointment two weeks ago, and I performed the ultrasound myself.” The technician from your doctor’s office steps forward holding out a black and white photograph.

Maxwell stares at it and then turns back to you, “Is it true?” he whispers voice cracking.

“Maxwell-“ you reach for him and he takes a step back.

“Is it mine?” he shouts, and you tremble, lip wobbling as you bite down hard enough to taste the tang of blood in your mouth.

“How can you even ask me that? Of course, it’s yours,” your voice quivers and he scoffs.

“Because it seems like everyone you know, is accusing you of sleeping around with fucking Tom!” he shouts, and you take a step back hand protectively covering your stomach.

He glares at you and you take a step back, “Were you going to tell me?” he begs, “That the baby isn’t mine?!”

Your voice cracks, “It is yours! I haven’t been with anyone else Maxwell, you know this!” you shout sobs swelling in your chest. All the guests watching the drama unfold.

“Another lie!” his mother shouts, stalking over to Maxwell and whispering in his ear like the snake that tempted Eve. “She only wants to take your money, everything that you have worked so hard to build. All of your success will be hers. She doesn’t love you.”

Your heart splinters as he nods and drops his head, she turns to you grinning. “I think it’s time for you to leave, you are not welcome here anymore.”

“Maxwell,” you cry reaching for him but he is far away from you now. You hold your head up high and glare at the people who stepped forward. “How fucking dare you,” you say low and threatengly, “some of them taking a step back at the venom in your voice. You walk down the steps slowly and hold up a hand as your family tries to rush you, walking towards a smirking Tom you rear your fist back. It makes a satisfying crunch as you break his nose.

Shaking your hand as it stings and he curses at you from the ground, “Fucking bitch!”

“Go to hell you lying son of a bitch! If you ever get near me or my child, I will have you arrested,” you storm out of the church blood boiling stomach sour. As you slam open the doors to the waiting area, a waiter for the cocktail hour passes and you crash into him. Coating you in champagne as he quickly apologizes begging for forgiveness. You're too upset to even notice and when you open the doors of the church the press go nuts. Cameras flashing, you race toward the limo. Jeeves the driver, holding the door open as you dive inside, slamming it closed behind you. He quickly climbs into the driver's seat, and the tires squeal as he drives away.

“Mrs. Lord, what happened?” You sob into your hands and try to catch your breath.

“I didn’t become Mrs. Lord,” you mumble and he stays silent just driving until you’ve calmed down enough to give him directions. The night is dark and you make your way across town. You have nowhere to go. You live with Maxwell and your former friends and roommate betrayed you. “Jeeves?” he looks into the rearview in sympathy, “take me to work please,” your voice is soft and he nods turning the limo toward the coffee shop. He pulls up out front and you quickly wave him off as you get out of the car and stumble towards the door. Giselle is locking up for the evening and freezes upon seeing you. Quickly rushing to the door and letting you inside. You collapse in her arms and she lets you spill everything, running her hand up and down your back.

The wedding, Maxwell’s mother, Tom, Michael, the baby...all of it comes pouring out. When you're spent and your eyes have no more tears you haul yourself off the floor and push into the backroom. Giselle follows and you ask for the keys, “I’ll lock the door when I leave just...please let me stay.” She nods and hugs you tightly again before grabbing her purse and sliding out the side door. You lock in behind you and lean against the door sliding to the floor.

From the outside the coffee shop looks closed for the evening, the neons are off, the chairs are up, and all is quiet. Except for the light bleeding from under the door that leads to the back room. There you sit, on the cold freshly mopped tile in the most expensive dress you could ever imagine. Heels kicked off, knees pulled up to your chest, and head down. You slowly raise your head and see your face reflected off the walk in across the room. A diamond headband in your hair, curls falling out of the once elegant up-do, and mascara running down your cheeks. This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but it quickly became the worst.

You place your hands protectively over your stomach, rubbing gently. Oh fuck...what have we gotten ourselves into now…

The rasp of knuckles sounds at the back door.

#maxwell lord #Maxwell Lord x reader #ww84 #Wonder Woman 1984 #Pedro Pascal #autumn writes

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chubbyreaderchan · 5 years ago

Text

Self Indulgent | Sesshomaru x chubby!Reader | NSFW

Warnings: Smut for smut sake! She/her pronouns

Kinks: Masterbating, biting, growling, breeding, also slightly inhuman penis cuz shhh

Summary: Sesshomaru catches his mate masterbating because she was much too shy to ask him to play with her. He shows her that he’s willing to take her any time she is in need. Reader-chan is also from Kagome’s time cuz yeah.

They had been walking for ages, it seemed. It was clear now, that even little Rin was exhausted. Luckily, despite his seeming annoyance, Sesshomaru always listened to (Y/n). Even if he’d never admit it, he valued her thoughts and opinions, always listening to her concerns. It was earlier than usual that night when Rin finally fell asleep and (Y/n) praised the gods that she had found a hot spring near their campsite. A perfect part of her own plans that night. A night alone was what she needed.

It had been a while since she indulged in any self pleasure, so she was needy to say the least and she was simply too shy to even ask Sesshomaru for anything like that. Despite being his mate, she just felt like he’d see it as disrespectful and find her disgusting for asking for such a thing. It was often Sesshomaru who would initiating sex rather than the other way around. This would be the first time she had touched herself since meeting him, as well. He had a high sexual appetite, he was not afraid of taking her as needed but for some reason lately it had been a dry spell. Perhaps because he was so close to finding Naraku. That was okay, however, she didn’t mind one bit.

“I’m going to bathe before bed, my love” She said softly to Sesshomaru, smiling. She looked him over for one last time to help her with her fantasies in a moment. “I might soak a while...” Sesshomaru nodded slightly. “Be safe.” He said softly, he would only say such things when Rin and Jaken were asleep like they were now. She smiled and nodded at him. Once she was past the trees she slipped from her clothing and folded them neatly in a pile. Perhaps she would play first and then bathe so she can clean herself off before she cuddled up to Sesshomaru. She smiled as she laid her soft towel down on the ground then she laid herself on top of that.

Meanwhile, Sesshomaru’s eyes were on the sky watching the stars. Completely lost in thought that was until the wind shifted. He took in a deep breath and froze. A familiar and intoxicating scent filled his nose. What was she doing? He sniffed again. She was still alone but he could smell her sex in the air and it was intoxicating. Without thought, Sesshomaru stood up and wondered through the woods. There he found his soft and round mate, eyes shut and fingers swiftly rubbing her warm folds. He said nothing for a moment, enjoying the sight of his mate bare and ready for the taking.

(Y/n) began rubbing her chest and squeezing her nipples between her fingers. Lightly pulling her self into a deeper aroused haze. She shifted her thighs slightly, rubbing her own warm core slightly from the bit of friction. A soft moan escaped her lips as she imagined Sesshomaru doing this to her breasts. Then her fingers slid down her soft body and found her little bundle of nerves between her legs. “Ooh, god” She moaned softly as she rubbed the nub slowly. Her fingers dipping into her hole and she began thrusting her fingers into herself in a slow manner.

“What are you doing?” His voice wasn’t angry or upset. Just a question. Quickly she removed her hands from her warm body flipping and trying to cover up from his golden eyes. “S-Sesshomaru... I was just...”

“If you wanted to indulge in pleasures why didn’t you say so?” He walked forward to kneel in front of her. His hand went to her cheek, lightly brushing her face in a loving manner. His eyes were soft, despite a deep desire in them.

“I was scared you’d think less of me...” She felt her cheeks warm up from his touch, still trying hard to hide her body from his gaze. It didn’t matter, the smell of her was driving him mad despite the rigid coldness to his demeanor.

He growled, vibrating her slightly. That moan wasn’t enough for the demon lord’s ego. His tongue moved from her hole to the nerves at the top. He licked it and then looked up at his woman, her eyes were shut. He growled again and bit the clit gentle, yet sharp enough to cause her to open her eyes and look at him. Sesshomaru sucked on her clit and pulled off with a slight pop. Sesshomaru’s eyes were dark with need and his lips glistened from her wetness. “Look at me.” he demanded. “I wasn’t you to see the pleasure this Sesshomaru can give his mate whenever she is in need.” The only thing she could do was nod, her body was long gone to pleasure and her lower lips tingled from both desire and the slight venom that existed naturally in the demon lord’s saliva. Thank the Gods she was becoming more immune to it. The first time he licked her she was numb for a week.

Sesshomaru scoffed. “You’re my mate. If you desire me you have to tell me. It’s my responsibility to take care of those desires.” He removed his hand and began removing his kimono. He placed the clothing aside. “It has been a while my mate... forgive me” Her eyes widened. She had never heard him ask for forgiveness from anyone before. But she hardly had time to acknowledge it before Sesshomaru grabbed her thick thigh and spreading her for his view. He pushed her leg practically to her head. His once soft gaze turned into want, he craved her so badly. Her smell was so sweet and drove his hunger. He leaned down and lightly licked up her slit tasting her. He grumbled low in pleasure. His warm tongue pressed against her slit again enjoying her taste. He moved his hand from her thigh, knowing she would hold herself open to him. The clawed hand trailed down his mate’s thigh to her labia so he could pull her open more. His tongue dipped in lapping at her hole. A soft moan finally was drawn from his curvy woman.

Her eyes were now fixed on his as he went back to licking her clit. His tongue knew her like he knew his swords. It was second nature now to what pleased her. Long slow licked followed by quick ones against the nub. Her moans were much louder and she preyed they weren’t loud enough to wake Rin or Jaken. Then she felt it snap. “Ah!” She moaned and reached her peak, Sesshomaru sucked her clit through the rush of pleasure before his tongue dipped at her hole again to drink some of her up.

Then in a much to quick to register moment, his hand was at her thigh and his shaft was laying against her folds. He hadn’t entered her yet knowing how difficult it is for her to take it quickly. His cock was larger than a humans, big but it wasn’t impossible. It was pale and long, tapering slightly at the end. His cock was human like in some ways while others it reminded one of a dog, even bulging with a knot at the base, it was fairly large in this form but not horrible, of course. However, his dog form she had seen it once but only for a second before he turned back and took her. His dog form was giant and the knot was even bigger than what one would expect, large in a disproportionate way almost. She often wondered if it was a family trait or because of his power or both.

“Now,” He said darkly, nails digging into the plush flesh of her thigh. “Let us practice asking your Lord for your desires.” Her eyes widened. He never teased her like this. Why was he being cruel tonight? He rocked slightly, the underside of his cock, the knot bumping her already twitching clit. “W-what?” She was confused, brain foggy still from the orgasm.

“Ask me. What does my mate want from this Sesshomaru?” His eyes looked her over, with a serious face. He looked just as cold and menacing as he did before ripping an enemy to shreds. He rocked again, pressing harder against her. “You need to learn to ask or you will go without... I will not take the blame next time I find you indulging yourself”

“Sesshomaru...” She whined. “I want to have you.”

“Have me? You already have me, my little human.” He grumbled out a soft growl. He squeezed tighter to her leg, knowing he would leave bruises on her. He loved marking her as his, despite his own permanent mark and his scent on her was practically enough to keep male demons away from her, the other marks where for his own visual pleasure.. Her face was flustered and she was nervous under his gaze. Sesshomaru made a note to tease her more often.

“I want you in me... I need pleasure. Please.” She begged. “I want to be full of your seed. I want to give you a baby” What did she just say? Her mind was fuzzy and didn’t realize she had admitted to one of her secrets. Sesshomaru growled in pleasure. “Hm. I’ll give you a child if that’s what you want my mate.” the tip pressed against her wet hole. She relaxed herself knowing that she needed to be really relaxed when he first enters her. He grunted, sliding in nice and slow. Her face crumpled into a slight look of pain. Then he was in as deep as his knot would allow. His hips began shifting back and forth. Stretching her carefully. Her body was so comfortable against him. Soft plush combined with the warm silk of her insides. She was perfect for him, despite being human and even... fat. He grumbled. The last person to insult her like that ended up dead.

“All you have to do is ask, my mate.” He grunted softly his hips picking up pace. He paused a moment to lift her ass easily off her towel, holding her with ease. He chuckled remembering the first time he did this to her and her panic about her weight. She may as well be a feather to him with his power. His member now drilled down into her, his eyes on hers as she moaned for pleasure. The pained look now gone, relaxing into him. He thrusted into her harder now, her body molding to him once again. She wrapped the leg that wasn’t held around him sighing softly. “Sesshomaru...” She moaned his name, looking into his intense golden eyes. He leaned down capturing her lips against his own. A moan allowed his tongue to dance with hers. His tongue was as sweet as honey and tingled against her lips. He pulled away, letting go of her thigh and letting the leg join the other around his hips. He pressed a kiss along her jaw line, kissing and sucking at the warm flesh. Leaving spots against her skin. “Sesshomaru... I love you” she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck, her finger tangling into his silky hair. It was so special, only she can touch his hair. Tangle it.... pull it. He growled in delight at the tingling feeling of her fingers pulling the strands. “I love you too” He said softly, a rare admission of feeling from the great demon lord. Her body froze, tightening around him as she came on his member. He growled the tightening pulled him into his own wants. Sesshomaru bucked deep his knot stretching her and pushing in deep as he filled her with his thick seed. It always hurt a bit but after a moment she was fine as he pumped her full.

It would be a good while before his knot deflated however, so he pulled her close, flipping to his back to hold her close. “I will sire many pups with you, (Y/n)...” His claws gently ran over her back. It caused goosebumps to rise on her skin as she felt comfortably full of him. His face buried into her hair living in her scent. Sweat and sex and just her natural smell. She smelled so sweet. “You don’t have to be shy, my mate.” He said repeating his earlier point. “What’s the point in choosing you as mine if I can not give you what you need?” He pulled her up kissing and squeezing her body against his own. A soft pop and his member finally deflated out of her, a bit of his essence dribbled out of her.

“I’m sorry, my darling...” She whispered, cuddling the cold demon who to her was so warm. “I think I learned my lesson...” He grunted in soft agreement, kissing her again. “I want to give my seed the best chance. You can bathe in the morning...” he mentioned suddenly.

She nods, laying her head against him still wanting to cuddle him. “Will you hold me tonight?” she said softly.

“When have I not?”

She simply smiled, eyes growing heavy against him. “Let me dress you...” He said helping her into what he knew she called “pajamas” and lifted her b bringing her back to the campsite once both were dressed. He laid her down and pulled her close.

Her eyes fluttered shut and just before she fell asleep she felt Sesshomaru’s hand against her stomach. “You’re going to be beautiful carrying my pups” His lips pressed against her temple as she fell into comfortable sleep.

#sesshomaru x reader #sesshomaru x chubby!reader #inuyasha imagines #inuyasha reader insert #ahhhhh #i just couldnt help it #☺️#just imagineeeee #now i should write one for inuyasha catching his s/o masterbating #imagine how funny #oooh and koga #and naraku

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a-bang-for-your-bucky · 4 years ago

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Playin' With Fire: Frankie's Secret

Playin’ With Fire: Frankie’s secret

Summary: Dani and Frankie have been friends for almost two years now. While at a party, Dani learns Frankie’s darkest secret. Will their friendship surpass this hurdle? WIll they finally cross that line they have been teetering on? Or will this be the wedge that drives them apart?

Warnings: DRUG USE (straight up use of cocaine), ANGST (It starts it off), explicit language, a heated make out session, implication of smut (but no details because I suck at writing smut), Hurt!Frankie because it breaks my heart. I hurt my own heart writing this.

Pairings: Dani x Frankie, Frankie x ofc, Dani x Santiago

Word Count: 4,280

A/N: Part 2! Y'all this story is a wild ride. I am not responsible for any tears that are shed while reading this.

Tags: @221bshrlocked @danniburgh (if you want to be tagged, LMK)

It wasn’t often that Dani went to a party that wasn’t being hosted by a Miller brother. Yet, here she was at some random house with a lot of random people. Will said it would be fun, that she needed to relax. Benny said that she wouldn’t be alone because Frankie would be there. So how in the hell did she find herself standing around with none of the guys in sight?

Dani wandered aimlessly through the crowd of people, looking for someone she knew. She came across a door, and it seemed to be quiet on the other end. She quickly turned the knob to see that it was unlocked. Pushing the door open, she revealed her best friend, with a half naked brunette in his lap, snorting what looked like coke.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces. Dani couldn’t tell if it was because of the girl or the drug. “Tequila.” Frankie whimpered, but didn’t move a muscle. The girl in his lap twisted to see who opened the door.

“Either join in or get out.” The girl demanded, and Dani slammed the door shut. She knew she probably looked crazy; Tears running down her face, smearing her makeup, frantically looking for Will or Benny. She found the youngest Miller first, who immediately left the woman he was chatting up upon seeing Dani’s distressed state.

“Tequila, what happened?” He asked, wiping tears from her face. She tried to tell him, but it only came out in broken sobs. Benny was able to pick up “Frankie” and “cocaine”; After that, she was incoherent. Benny wrapped his arms around her, trying to give her some comfort. “Come on, let’s find Will and go.”

It took twenty minutes for Benny to track down Will, who was hooking up with the party host, Sara. Benny explained that Dani came up to him, sobbing and mentioned Frankie and coke. Will rushed to get dressed, apologizing for his hasty exit.

Dani was standing outside by Will’s jeep, eyes swollen and face red. Will rushed over, “Teq, I’m so sorry.” He comforted and placed a kiss to her head before ushering her into the car, just in time for Frankie to come running out the door. Benny took three large strides toward him before throwing a right hook that connected hard with his jaw.

“The fuck were you thinking, Fish? I thought you quit that shit!” Benny yelled at his friend who clutched his face where a red bruise was already starting to form, struggling to get up off the ground.

“Please, Benny.” Frankie started as he stood up, gesturing to the girl crying in the front seat “Let me talk to her.” He begged, trying to move toward the car. Will stepped in.

“You’ve done enough, Catfish. Leave her alone.” Will growled at the man before him. Frankie, exhaled a shaky breath and took a step back from his friends.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I’m so sorry.” He yelled a little louder, hoping Dani could hear him through the window. She turned her head just in time to see the same brunette that was seated on his lap, start dragging him back inside.

Dani didn’t leave her room for three days. She barely touched anything Will or Benny brought her to eat. She barely slept, the image of Frankie doing lines of the white substance haunted her dreams. She tried to focus on the crappy ‘B’ rated horror movie playing on Netflix.

A knock on the door drew her from the screen. “It’s open.” She said numbly. It was Will. He came in carrying a tray of food and a few water bottles. Dani noticed and gave him a quiet ‘thank you’, before turning her attention back to her laptop.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Will asked her just like he had every day before. Today she seemed ready.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” She whispered, still looking at the screen. Will took a seat next to her on the bed.

“It wasn’t our story to tell. As far as we knew, he cleaned up after being discharged. Tequila, I promise you, if any of us knew, we would have told you.” Will tried to explain to her, knowing that his words weren’t going to help much.

Tears slowly started to trickle down her cheeks. She felt so stupid, letting herself get so close to him. Will pulled the computer away from her lap, sitting it on her bedside table. She instantly curled into him as sobs wracked her body. Will felt so helpless. On one hand, he has his best friend who has a drug problem and on the other, his best friend who has a broken heart. He didn’t know where to begin to fix either. Will noticed that the sobs finally stopped and her breathing evened out. She was finally asleep. He could have wiggled out from her hold, but instead, he made himself comfortable and fell asleep, too.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Frankie?” Benny’s voice stirred Will awake. He shot up off the bed and ran to the living room. He found Benny holding Catfish back from entering the doorway.

“I need to talk to her, Benny. I have to- shit, I have to explain myself.” Frankie begged his friend.

Will could see his brother getting angrier by the second, so he intervened. “Go check on her, make sure she’s still sleeping. I’ll handle this.” Will prompted his brother. Benny relaxed, moving away from Frankie. Will slid into his spot, blocking him from coming inside.

“Will, please.” Frankie begged. “I just want to see her. I’m sorry for this. I never wanted to hurt her.” All Frankie wanted was to make sure she was okay. He was about to speak again when Dani’s voice broke through the silence. Frankie took in her state, hair in a bun, eyes rimmed red and puffy.

“It’s okay, Ironhead.” She murmured, arms wrapped around herself in mock comfort. Will turned himself to face her. He brought a hand up to caress her face, erasing stray tears. He gave her his best ‘are you sure?’ look. She nodded, “I’ll be okay, Will. I’ll yell if I need you.” She tried to give him a smile, but she was so damn tired.

Will looked back at Frankie, “I love you, man, but she better not need me." The blonde threatened him and Frankie knew he meant it. He shook his head in agreement; Frankie would gladly let Will hurt him. He just wanted to make this right. Will moved over, letting Frankie pass him into the living room. Frankie looked around. Out of all the times he sat in the room, he never imagined himself sitting here because of this.

Dani moved to take a seat across from him. She gave Will a look to let him know that she was okay, and he left the room. She focused her attention back to the man in front of her. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept either. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had dark circles under them, which didn’t complement the five o’clock shadow that dusted his face. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of her or the drugs.

Frankie noticed Dani looking over his features, and he felt ashamed, like he didn’t deserve to have her look at him. He hung his head low, trying to avoid making eye contact with her. He knew he couldn’t hide his face forever, but for now, the floor was looking pretty good.

Dani shuffled in her seat, trying to get herself comfortable before diving into a conversation she really did not want to have. As she thought of what she was going to say, Frankie started to apologize.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Teq.” He raised his head, tears chasing each other down his face. “I know that sorry doesn’t mean much, but I am.” Frankie wiped his tears away as he finally made eye contact with her.

“Why, Frankie?” Her words were barely detectable, but Frankie heard them. Those two words put a vice grip around his heart and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know why. Why did he let himself fall off the wagon after so long? Why did he let Vanessa back into his life when he could have had Dani? He didn’t have any answers for her.

“Can I start from the beginning?” He asked her, hoping they could talk things out. Dani thought it over. Did she really want to hear this? The choice was obvious. she needed to know and gave Frankie a curt nod.

Frankie moved to the floor in front of her chair, sitting crossed legged, looking up at her. “It started after my first helo crash.” Frankie began.

“This is gonna be a bumpy ride boys,” Frankie yelled through the headset. He was maneuvering the helo through gunfire, trying to find a safe place to land.

“Fish, we got smoke back here!” Pope bellowed, hanging onto the doorway of the cockpit. Frankie looked back at his friend. How was he going to do this? He looked back down to the earth, and all he saw was desert sand. “Fish! We gotta land, man. Or this thing’s gonna blow!” Santiago reiterated.

Frankie found a spot far enough away from the flying bullets, that he could try to land as safely as possible. When he started to bring it down, alarms started blaring, lights flashed. “Fuck! Guys, buckle up. This isn’t going to be good.”

“That crash broke Benny’s arm. Since then, I was a nervous wreck behind the controls. I almost got everyone killed because I couldn’t land the damned helo. My mistake almost killed my friends.” Frankie paused to compose himself. “At first, I only did it to calm my nerves, then I just lost control of it, using whenever I could. I was discharged with my license suspended. I did a rehab program and luckily, I was able to get my license reinstated.”

Dani tried to comprehend what he was telling her. All of her medical training told her that he had a disease, an addiction. She wanted to reach out and console him, but he kept this from her. She had shared all of her secrets with him and he kept this huge one from her. “What about the girl?” She asked, knowing she had no right to be jealous. Frankie wasn’t hers.

“Vanessa was a fling, someone I would get high with. She was just there.” He gulped, “I wasn’t looking to get high. It was a moment of weakness. I hadn’t used it in almost thirteen months.” Since he met her. He was laying everything out for her and he was praying she would still accept him.

Dani sat there, staring at the man in front of her. He was unrecognizable. He looked sad, broken. Nowhere near the happy, flirty, person she met on Benny’s birthday. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She wanted to understand. She wanted to help him past this, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t know if she was strong enough.

“Please say something, hermosa. Lo siento mucho.” Frankie apologized again, reaching to grab her hands. She didn’t pull away like he thought she would. Instead, she moved to kneel on the ground with him.

She released his hands to pull him in for a hug. The gesture was enough to completely destroy Frankie’s resolve. Frankie sobbed into her. “Lo siento mucho. Lo haré mejor, lo prometo.” Dani held him for what felt like forever, stroking his hair.

“I want to help you, Frankie.” She whispered into his hair, still holding him close. “But I need you to want to help yourself.” Frankie’s head bobbed in agreement. He needed this.

The following weeks were hard on Frankie. Detoxing off the drug was a lot harder than he remembered, but Dani was there every step of the way. The exhaustion, shakes, and cravings were tolerable, but when the nightmares started, Frankie didn’t know if he would make it.

Dani let herself into Frankie’s apartment after her shift at the hospital. “Frankie?” She called out but did not get a reply. She moved further inside, making her way to Frankie’s room. She heard the shower running as she walked into his bedroom. “Frankie?” She called out again.

As she got closer to the bathroom, she could hear Frankie’s broken sobs over the shower. She rushed in to see him sitting in the corner of the tub, knees drawn to his chest. He raised his head when the door slammed into the wall.

“Dani?” He choked out, like he was surprised to see her. She rushed over to him. Feeling that the water was freezing, she quickly turned it off. She grabbed a towel, throwing it over him to give him some form of cover.

“Fuck, fish. What’re you doing? Trying to give yourself hypothermia?” Dani moved to grab more towels. She was able to get him to stand up and move into the bedroom. She searched his room for warm clothing. “Here.” She handed him the sweats and hoodie she found. “I’m gonna make you something to eat while you get dressed.” She exited the room and closed the door behind her. She felt her own tears threatening to fall down her face. It was hard to see her friend like this. She wiped away the drops that strayed down, trying to compose herself.

Frankie emerged from his room and followed the savory smell coming from the kitchen. “Hermosa.” His voice cracks a little, but she still hears him. Smiling, she turns to see him, arms wrapped around himself. “Shit, Teq.” He walks over to her, bringing a hand up to caress her face. “I didn’t mean to make you cry again.” He whispers, pulling her in for a hug.

“I’m okay, Fish.” She mumbles into his chest. “I made bacon and eggs.” She wasn’t going to say that was all she could make with the contents in his kitchen because the man was already down.

“Thank you, Dani. For everything. I think the worst has finally passed.” Frankie told her as they sat down at his tiny dining table. She handed him his plate before placing her own in front of her. The two ate in a comfortable silence.

“You wanna talk about it?” Dani asked as Frankie cleared the table. Frankie placed the dishes in the sink and turned back to where she sat at the table.

“I keep having the same nightmare. I’m in a helo and it's going down. It’s just like that first crash, except you’re there. And there’s nothing I can do to save you.” Frankie describes his dream, fighting back the emotion that is pouring through him.

“I’m here, Frankie. I’m here.” She tells him as she walks over. Taking his hand and placing it over her heart. “Feel that? I’m alive.” She moves it over his own, “You are, too. We are going to figure this out together.” The tension between them is palpable. Frankie looks down at Dani, her blue orbs staring back at him and all he can think about his pressing his lips to hers. Instead, he pulls away. She deserves more than a fuck up like me, he thought.

“Thank you. For dinner, fuck, for everything. You should go home and get some rest.” He practically pushed her out the door. “I’ll be okay.” He reassured her one last time before she said good-bye. He watched her walk to her car, climb inside, and drive away.

After the almost kiss, Dani did her best to give Frankie space. She knew he was going through a lot and he was probably having a lot of conflicted emotions. She stayed away from his apartment for about a week, checking in via text. He always responded immediately.

It was Saturday evening, and she had just finished her ER shift. She had sent a text to Frankie earlier in the day and still had not heard from him. Deciding that a trip to his apartment was warranted, Dani made her way over.

She knocked on the door three times before it opened. “Vanessa?” Dani choked out as the brunette stood there, wrapped in a towel. “Where’s Frankie?” She asked, her voice a little shaky.

“He’s busy, sweetie. Go home.” Vanessa snarked with a smirk on her face. Dani rolled her eyes, before storming past her toward Frankie’s room. She all but kicked the door open, sending the handle smashing into the wall.

“What the fuck?!” Frankie yelled, coming out of his bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. The angry look on his face dropped as soon as he saw her. “Fuck.” He whispered, dropping his head. Dani knew immediately what was going on.

“Frankie, tell me this isn’t what it looks like.” She wished, pointing to the powdered substance on his dresser. He didn’t answer. “Frankie, please.” Her voice cracked, “Tell me you aren’t doing fucking coke again.” She pleaded. He raised his head to look at her, but did not answer.

She shook her head in disappointment before walking out of the room. “Dani!” Frankie called as he chased after her. “Dani, please, don’t go.” He begged her. She stopped in her tracks before she reached the door. Vanessa scoffed, muttering under her breath “to let her go”.

She slowly turned around. “Fuck you, Frankie Morales. Fuck you and fuck her.” She spat, pointing to Vanessa who was sitting on Frankie’s couch. Dani focused back on Frankie. “Thank you for wasting my time, my effort, my love. I told you when I started to help you that you had to want to get clean. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t. So, fuck you.” She blubbered, tears of regret and hurt welling in her eyes, spilling over her lashes.

She didn’t wait for a reply as she walked out of the door. It closed behind her with a loud thud. She got to her car and let out the sobs she was holding in. Dani had never felt anything like this. Even when she caught him at the party, it didn’t hurt this bad. She felt like some punched her in the stomach and could hear her heart pounding in her ears. What was she supposed to do now?

Dani pulled into her driveway to find Santiago sitting outside on the porch, like he was waiting on someone to come home. She put her car in park and he’s there to open her door. “¿Estás bien?” He asked as she stepped out.

She didn’t dare to look the brunette in the eyes, because she knew she'd break. “I’m fine.” She replied curtly, looking at the ground, walking toward the house. He followed quickly behind her. Once inside, she threw her bag onto the couch, going straight to the kitchen. She poured a shot of tequila, offering one for Santiago. He shakes his head ‘no’.

“Shit, Teq. What’s wrong?” He asks again, worry laced in his voice. He can tell she’s been crying. Her eyes are red, and her face is blotchy. She downs the alcohol and pours another.

“He’s doing coke again.” She rasped out, throwing back the second drink. Slamming the glass on the counter, she left Santiago and walked to her room.

He ran a hand down his face before tailing her. What the fuck have you done, Catfish. He thought. He found Dani laying face first into her pillow. “What do you mean he’s doing coke again?” He questions, sitting next to her legs.

She rolled over and sat up. “I mean, I hadn’t heard from him all day. I was worried. I got to his apartment and Vanessa was there.” she hiccuped, falling back on the pillow again. “There was coke on his dresser.” Dani sniffled, a sickening feeling growing in her stomach.

“I’m sorry, Dani.” He whispered, not really sure if she heard him. He is sorry. He’s sorry that Frankie is being an idiot. He’s sorry that she’s hurting. And he’s sorry that all he wants to do is make it better.

Dani fought to push her sadness down. She wiped her tears away and moved to sit up again, so that she’s looking at him. “I’m sorry, you looked like you had something you wanted to say.” She apologized and gave him her full attention.

Santiago nodded. “Yeah. I’m um, I’m going to South America. Colombia. I got a contract with the military.” He told her. “I’m supposed to leave in a month.” Her face dropped, and for a second she wonders how much heartbreak a person can take.

“South America? For how long?” She asked in disbelief. How could Santi be going to a different country? She just lost Frankie, she couldn’t lose him, too.

“I’m not sure.” He was being honest. He didn’t know when or if he would be back. It wasn’t going to be the safest contract. Dani sat there staring at him, speechless. “Teq?” He said, and she lifted her sad eyes to his. Almost as if he could read her mind, he promised, “I’ll come back.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t know that, Santi.” She mumbled, “What if you don’t come back?” The brunette shakes his head, telling her that she can’t think like that.

His cedar brown eyes met her blue ones. He reached out for her, pulling her into his embrace. He had an internal debate on whether or not he should say anything. It would be completely selfish of him, especially since he knew how Fish felt about her. That didn’t stop him from saying, "I have a contact down there who can get you certification to practice there. You could come with me, work in a hospital there."

Dani's body stiffened. Go to South America with Santi? She couldn't, could she? Santi could practically see the gears turning in her head. "It's not a marriage proposal, babe." He joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Dani let out a breathy laugh, "Yeah, like I would ever assume you are proposing marriage." Santi rolled his eyes, squeezing her tighter.

"I could settle down for the right woman." He rebutted, and they both burst into laughter. They knew Santi wasn’t the ‘settle down’ type. His arms relaxed around her and she wiggled her way out of his hold to sit back down on her bed.

"Seriously though, Tequila. If you want to come, the option is there." He offered her again. She could look into it. She could help so many less fortunate people, the whole reason why she wanted to become a doctor. After tonight, maybe it would be for the best.

"Okay." She says and his eyes go wide, like he didn't hear her correctly. "I want to go." She reiterates. Now he knows he wasn't hearing things. A huge smile crossed his face and he scooped her up into his arms again. Dani sighed in contentment. He smelled like mint and leather, even though he wasn’t wearing any, with a hint of whiskey.

She leaned her head back, so that she could look up at him. She was surprised to find him staring back at her. Her eyes subconsciously flickered to his lips as his tongue swiped out to dampen them. She didn't know if it was the buzz from the alcohol earlier, but she pushed forward to crash her lips into his.

Santi froze at the feeling of her lips on his. It was if he had fallen into one of his dreams, where the blonde woman had been running rampant. His hand found purchase at the back of her head, pulling her closer as their lips moved in tandem.

Dani's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers playing in the curls growing at the base of his head. She felt his tongue dance along her bottom lip, as if to ask for permission to enter. She parted her lips, finally tasting him as their tongues met. He even tasted like mint and whiskey.

Santi nibbled her bottom lip, which drew a low moan from her. He knew right then that he wanted more sounds from her. He tightened the grip on the back of her head, pulling it to the side, so that he could have access to her neck. He broke the kiss unceremoniously, before attacking her neck, finding her sweet spot immediately.

"Santi," Dani whimpered with need. Santi groaned at the sound of his name coming off her lips. She sounded like an angel. He wanted to hear more.

He pulled back to look at her. Her eyes so dark with lust, Santi could barely see the baby blue. Her hair was a mess where he buried his fingers. She looked absolutely beautiful. "Fuck, Tequila." Santi said breathlessly. His hands caressed her face, one thumb swiping over her bottom lip. "Fuck, as much as I want to do this. I can't." He said as his hands dropped and he stepped back. "I'm sorry, Teq. You would hate me in the morning."

Dani, brain still fuzzy with need, nodded, "Yeah, yeah. You're right. It's best that we stop now." She hesitantly agreed, when really what she wanted was for him to make her forget. Make her forget Frankie. Make her forget work. Make her forget her own name.

Santi took a deep breath, running a hand across his face. His eyes met hers once more, trying to find any signs of regret. There were none. "We really shouldn't do this." He said one more time before connecting their lips again.

Translations:

Hermosa- Beautiful

Lo siento mucho- I’m really sorry.

Lo haré mejor, lo prometo- I’ll do better, I promise.

¿estás bien?- Are you okay?

#santiago garcia #frankie morales #will miller #benny miller #santiago garcia x ofc #frankie morales x ofc #frankie catfish morales #santiago pope garcia #will ironhead miller #triple frontier #frankie morales fic #santiago garcia fic #santiago garcia imagine #frankie morales imagine #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier fic #frankie morales angst #angst #kat writes

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grilledcheeseandguavajelly · 4 years ago

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“It Was Hard To Breathe, And She Called To Me” -- Cordelia Goode x Reader

Long story short, I had a lot of feelings and anxieties about coronavirus when everything got bad back in March, and this was the product of that. I wasn’t going to post it (for multiple reasons), but after revisiting it I changed my mind. Hopefully it isn’t too rough!

Words: ~3,600

Warnings: Coronavirus, panic attacks, anxiety, hyperventilating, scratching (if anything about wearing masks or claustrophobia triggers you, I would skip this one!)

~Enjoy, my little peaches!~

It hadn’t hit you. The severity of it all, the effect all of this was having on the simplest things. Holed up in the academy, it hadn’t affected your day to day life, besides not being able to go out. Cordelia had strictly enforced the quarantine, but she didn’t let you girls go out during the week anyway, and your weekends were usually spent in her bed, the only real alone time the two of you got nowadays.

It made the sneaking around more fun, though, having to dodge prying eyes all seven days of the week. Never getting a break from the questions and the constant knocking on Cordelia’s door. Only able to steal kisses in the fleeting moments before dinner or deep into the night.

You had been so wrapped up in everything with Cordelia and so dead set on not watching the news, that you didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until you actually stepped foot in a grocery store.

You were all on a rotating schedule for groceries and errands, but so many girls had joined recently and Cordelia always needed you for something else, so you hadn’t gone out for groceries for roughly two and a half months. Until today.

It was Coco’s turn, but she had come down with a cough and Delia refused to let her leave her room. Nothing serious, she had said, but she wouldn’t let her leave if her immune system was even the slightest bit compromised.

You had volunteered to go, and Cordelia had looked at you with frantic eyes, but when Mallory innocently offered to cover your chores, there was no arguing, and before you knew it you were masked and gloved and fighting the New Orleans heat to get to the store.

The streets were empty, a few leaves blowing across the sidewalk in front of you the only sound. It made the hair at the back of your neck stand up, this once lively city now stark still and abandoned. But you brushed the uneasiness away, trudging along and relishing the air conditioning once you arrived.

Everything had gone well at first. You dug out your list, scratching a few things off quickly as you pulled them from the shelves. But then you were tasked with getting meat, and when you walked down the aisle, everything was gone. There were two containers of wrapped salmon, and that was it. No chicken, no beef, no pork. And you couldn’t pick up the salmon because one of the new girls had a fish allergy.

Twenty minutes later and you had found someone to help you, had had a garbled exchanged through your respective masks, and were waiting for them to pack you some new meat. Luckily, when you mentioned the school they recognized you and were willing to help.

After that it was toilet paper and napkins, but that aisle was also practically empty. Signs were put up saying “one of each”, so you grabbed whatever you could find. No hand soap, no disinfecting wipes.

What felt like hours later, you were snug in your place marker on the floor, waiting to check out. Tugging at your mask and cursing the stupid thing for exacerbating the heat and making the air entirely too thick. You swallowed down the thought that you couldn’t breathe, pushing a panic attack out of your mind.

You can breathe. It’s just fabric. Doctors do this all the time.

The woman at the register barely talked to you, only enough to tell you that you had to choose between the toilet paper and the napkins. When you referenced the sign, she clarified that it meant one of any, not one of each.

You shook your head incredulously as you thought about how sad it was that the world had come to this, and inevitably took too long to make a decision between the two.

Ultimately, the toilet paper won out. It should have been a no-brainer, given how many girls lived in that house, but somehow, with the panic attack ebbing and falling in your chest, you couldn’t think straight.

Your heart was pounding by the time the cashier finished scanning and bagging your items, and you tugged at your mask as it slid down your nose with your soft panting.

You remembered when Cordelia had given it to you, smiling as you tried it on for the first time. She had told you it suited you, and you grinned in the mirror because the blue pattern did look good against your skin.

That had been almost nine weeks ago. It hadn’t seemed that long, hadn’t seemed that bad. All you had used it for were your weekly walks with your girlfriend, and even then, you were more focused on her hand in yours and how her eyes crinkled around her own mask to notice.

But now, as you tapped your phone to the keypad and waited for it to process your payment, time started to stretch around you, the past lengthening as the cashier printed your receipt.

By the time you had left the store, the stress of the world was making the air press in around you.

And by the time you made it back to the iron gates of the academy, the panic had completely overtaken you.

Your arms were scratched raw, bags dragging you down and making you feel trapped in your own body. Your gloves were gone, torn through and lost somewhere along the way. The heat amplified the pounding of your heart, sweat pricking your neck as your head churned around the thought that you couldn’t breathe, there was no air.

Somehow you found your way to the kitchen, dropping the bags on the counter as the room spun around you. And when the girls started to trickle in and dig through the bags, you pushed past them. You needed to get out. You needed to be alone. You needed to breathe.

They called after you, voices echoing against the high ceilings of the building, and you dug your fingers into your hair and pulled, desperate for the pain to distract you from your thoughts.

But you didn’t even feel it, the room tilting and spinning and making you stumble against the walls.

You found the door to your room on instinct, reaching for the knob and pushing against it desperately when it didn’t budge. You froze, choking on your breath, but then you registered that you had to turn the handle. Then you would be safe. It would be quiet and calm and no one would find you.

No one would find you.

You could choke and suffocate and have a heart attack, and no one would know.

You twisted, pushed, and the door unstuck, hand slamming hard against wood as you desperately threw it open.

The door banged against the wall and you flinched, pushing your hands against your ears as your eyes frantically searched the room for somewhere to sit. Somewhere to stay. Somewhere to hide.

Quiet, quiet, quiet.

You needed quiet.

The only thing you could register was your breathing, hard and fast and out of control. It was out of control. You were out of control.

The room was too hot and you couldn’t get enough air in and you thought you might suffocate, your chest tightening as you pulled and tugged and scratched at your ankles.

You hadn’t realized you had curled in on yourself, pressed against the wall beside your dresser, but it felt better like this. Safer like this. If you could get down low and tuck yourself away, the world would melt down and nothing could hurt you.

Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch.

Footsteps broke through your racing thoughts, steady at first until something clattered to the floor. You flinched at the sound and suddenly heels were clicking roughly against the wood, closer and closer and louder and louder.

You whimpered, digging your face further down between your knees.

“Y/N?”

The voice was warm, panicked, and hands on your shoulders made you cry out, breath wheezing as you struggled to breathe faster, take in more air.

There was no air in this room. There was no air on this earth.

The harder you sucked air in, the tighter your chest constricted, pushing it back out of your body and leaving your mind spinning with a lack of oxygen.

When the person spoke again they sounded farther away, muffled, their words barely seeping into your brain between the pounding of blood in your ears.

“Look at…don’t…slow down….I’ve got…you can…why don’t…can you….”

You whined against the sound, fingers digging into your scalp. And you hadn’t registered your hands over your ears until they were being pulled down and away and the world was forced back into full stereo around you.

“Y/N, look at me, breathe, you’re alright.”

“No no no no no,” you started, batting at their hands and digging your palms back over your ears as you rocked.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just me. It’s me.” Cooing, shushing, pulling for your hands again. Gentler, calmer. Slowly peeling them off of your ears and smoothing them down onto your knees.

“Stupid stupid stupid stupid,” you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as warm hands enveloped yours, tracking small circles over the back of your wrists.

“No, Y/N. You’re not stupid. Shhh. You’re not stupid.”

Suddenly there were thumbs tracing your palms, rubbing lines and patterns firmly into them. And it grounded you enough that you registered the voice that was talking to you.

You lifted your head from your knees and looked up with bleary eyes, the room swimming around you as tears streaked down your face. You blinked against them, the light refracting in them too much of a sensory overload.

But then there were fingers there, wiping at your cheeks and clearing your vision, so soft and so tender.

And she was there. Right there. Close enough that she could reach every inch of you, but far enough to give you space to breathe.

Something shiny glinted behind her and you glanced over, registering a tray and a shattered tea cup laying abandoned in the doorway.

Your breathing quickened again at the thought that you had done that. She had dropped that tray because of you. Shattered the cup because of you. A mess. Everything was a mess. You were a mess, that was a mess, the world was a mess.

“Shhh shh shh,” she cooed, pressing her hands hesitantly to your cheeks, the warmth distorted by something rough. “It’s okay. None of that. I’m right here. Take a deep breath.”

Something inside of you shattered with her words, heart plummeting as your chest constricted again. You clawed at your shirt, heat pressing in on you again.

“I- I can’t,” you choked out, pulling and yanking at your collar to force space around you. “I c-can’t breathe, Delia.”

Her name was more of a plea than anything else. Desperation to fix everything, fix the thickness of the air, fix the panic coursing through your veins, fix—

She shushed you again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Sweet girl, let’s take this off, alright?”

And you nodded, assuming she meant your shirt. Assuming she was trying to help you cool off.

But fingers behind your ears startled you, and your eyes flashed open, frantic as they searched her face. She only smiled, soft and delicate as her fingers dug under elastic and pulled, looping the bands of your mask from around your ears and pulling the fabric away.

You sucked air in like you hadn’t breathed in a thousand years, hands flying out to her shirt and grounding yourself in the satin there. And then you blinked, heart rate slowing as she folded the mask in front of you and set it down.

You hadn’t realized you had still been wearing it.

You hadn’t even thought.

Her hand on your chin caught your attention and she tipped your face up so that you were looking her in the eye.

“Better?” she murmured, eyes soft as she tried to gauge your reaction.

And tears pooled in your eyes because it was. Infinitely. But not because your mask was gone. It was better because she was here.

Your breaths stuttered and you sniffed, and then Cordelia was right there, hands cupping your face.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Her brows pushed up as she searched your eyes, and then she pulled your head to her chest, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

You grounded yourself against the feel of her, her heartbeat quick against your cheek, and you could feel her heavy breathing as yours finally slowed.

Her fingers tracked over your spine, tapping as they hit the bumps of your vertebrae, one by one. She cooed at you, she shushed you, she whispered sweet nothings in your ear, her other hand skimming through your hair.

Suddenly the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, and just like that, the world felt normal again. Everything aligning and righting and slowing down around you.

And you broke.

You cried for what could have been hours, gripping your fingers further into her shirt and twisting and folding and rubbing the fabric together against the pads of your fingers. And all the while she sat with you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair and rocking you softly, back and forth and back and forth.

By the time your sobs subsided into sniffles you could hear the girls bustling downstairs, pots clattering somewhere in the distance and soft arguments drifting up the stairs.

Cordelia didn’t pull away, though. Her grip on you stayed constant, wrapped tightly in her arms as her chest pushed into yours with every breath.

She let you break the embrace, sniffing as you pushed a kiss to her jaw and pulled away to look her in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” you started, the only words you could comprehend after your brain had churned itself inside out.

“No no,” she chided, finger coming up to shush you. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I—“

She cut you off again, leaning forward and brushing her lips over your nose. “No.”

You swallowed, nodding softly as she stared you down, a small smile on her lips as she almost dared you to try again.

You cleared your throat, coughing lightly. “I didn’t know I would have such an issue going out.”

She nodded, brow creasing as her thumb came up to wipe a tear from your cheek. You hadn’t realized you were crying again.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she tried, head tilting.

You shook your head, unsure that you would be able to put your feelings into words. But somehow they fell out of your mouth anyway.

“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” you started, fingers tapping against Cordelia’s arm as the empty aisles and numbered tiles flashed through your mind again. “I mean, I had heard you all talking about it, but I brushed it off as nothing. I didn’t— But being there, finding half of the grocery list out of stock… What is happening to this country?”

Your voice cracked as your breaths started to wheeze, eyes searching Cordelia’s face frantically as you shook your head.

But she shushed you before you could work yourself up again, pressing her hand against your chest and splaying out her fingers.

“Look at me,” she said gently, eyes soft. You did. “Put your hand on my heart, darling. Okay?”

You nodded, reaching up and mimicking her, spreading your fingers out and pressing in until you found her heartbeat. The feel of it grounded you, and you noted that it was pounding quickly beneath her ribcage.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, eyes flicking up to hers. All she did was smile, pressing firmly against your chest.

“Breathe with me, darling. Can you do that? Breathe with me.”

Her thumb tapped against your chest and you felt it reverberate through you, slowing your heart rate.

“In for four,” Cordelia started, her thumb tapping four times, slowly.

You complied, inhaling in time with her.

“Hold for four,” she said, searching your face as her thumb tapped four more times.

You held her gaze, your heart rate slowing as you held your breath.

“And out for eight,” she sighed, releasing a long breath as her thumb tapped eight times.

You watched her as you deflated, the way she was holding onto your eye contact like a lifeline. The way her brow was creased down the middle, just barely. The way color had risen into her cheeks, flushing them a dark pink.

“There,” she tried, leaning into your hand on her chest.

There was a long silence, you relishing the way her hand felt against you, relishing the steadiness of her breathing, the warmth seeping through her shirt.

When you looked back up at her, you realized she hadn’t moved her gaze from your face the entire time. Guilt washed through you.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you started, hand falling from her chest. But before you knew what was happening, she had scooped it up in both of hers and pushed it back into place.

“You didn’t scare me,” she said softly, offering you a reassuring smile.

You tilted your head, brow furrowing.

“You worried the hell out of me, but you didn’t scare me.”

You laughed then, something light expanding out through your chest. And then you were practically tackling her in a hug, wrapping your arms around her shoulders as you squeezed her to you and settled down in her lap.

“How are you always so strong?” you asked softly, nuzzling your nose against her pulse point. Her hands found your hair on instinct, threading through your curls.

“I’m not,” she answered quietly, and you hummed as she trailed off. A moment later she found her voice, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You say that I’m strong, but I’m just as frightened as you.”

You pulled back, brow furrowed. “Delia…”

“What gets me through, though,” she continued, fingers trailing from your hair back down to your heart, “is this.”

You blinked at her, nose twitching. “My heartbeat?”

She nodded, pulling your hand back to her chest. “Do you feel that?”

“Of course,” you replied, fingers twitching on her shirt.

“That is all that matters right now. Alright?”

You shook your head, brow furrowing. “I don’t understand…”

She leaned forward then, pressing a soft kiss between your brows. “This heartbeat, your heartbeat,” she started, fingers fidgeting against your chest, “is the only thing that matters to me. We do the best we can, day by day. We count our blessings and help people who are suffering. And that’s it. That’s all that’s in our control.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You hummed, pushing your forehead against hers and melting into the feel of her. The comfort of her so close, so strong.

Her nose brushed against yours as she spoke again, breaking the silence that had settled.

“We are healthy, we are safe. And that is all that matters.”

You nodded, fingers finding her shoulders and scratching lightly in acknowledgement. You felt her sigh, and you let out a long breath, the pressure and stress of the day finally deflating out of you and leaving you weak and pliable in her arms.

Cordelia nudged her nose against yours, prompting your eye contact. She watched you, eyes lidded and questioning, and waited for your soft nod. And as she leaned in and kissed you, softly, gently, purposeful and delicate, you realized that she was absolutely correct. As long as you had her, nothing else mattered.

She cupped your cheek as she deepened the kiss and you parted your lips, moaning at the comfort of her and the warmth that was pooling through you at her touch. The familiarity. The inevitable protection that came with it.

Before you knew what was happening your hands were up under her shirt, sitting straighter in her lap so you could roll your hips down over hers. Her mouth was locked to your neck and your eyes were screwed shut. Until you heard a thump outside the door and a soft “Miss Cordelia?”

Your eyes flew open as Cordelia froze and you had time to register one of the newer girls standing wide-eyed in the doorway. And then there were fifteen more girls there, all piled around each other, mouths agape.

You heard one of them whisper “I knew it!” and then you dissolved into laughter, burying your face into Cordelia’s shoulder as she chuckled in your ear.

Madison’s heels came clacking down the hallway before either of you could say anything, and as you lifted your head from Cordelia’s shoulder, you met her eyes.

“Oh come on, you pervs,” Madison groaned, batting at the girls and reaching for the door. “Don’t you have better things to do than peep on a lame-ass make out sesh?”

The giggling subsided and the door clicked, and you pulled back, looking at Cordelia.

Your brow popped. “Lame-ass?”

She shook her head, biting down on a smile. “Make out sesh.”

You cackled at her sarcasm, and the way she was looking at you — her smile growing yours, yours growing hers, her eyes entirely too hungry for your own good — you thought that maybe being quarantined wasn’t the worst thing, after all.

Tag List: @thatgirlintheleatherjacket @shineestark @duchessfics @darling-dontforgetme @midnight-lestrange @nerdaroo @pradababey @mssallymckenna

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honeymoonjin · 5 years ago

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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.

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