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jeonggukkiepabo · 3 years

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CRYSTAL SNOW ❄ MYG

SUMMARY: Christmas has always been a stressful time for Yoongi: buying presents, decorating the tree, baking cookies, you name it-Yoongi does it. It wouldn't be so difficult if Yoongi had someone to help him, but all he has left in his life is his beautiful daughter Ara.But maybe this year, he won't be all alone.

GENRE: christmas fluff ❄ a bit of smut

WORD COUNT: 7,3k

WARNINGS: f l u f f, single parent yoongi, kindergarten teacher y/n, oral, satoori, domestic christmas vibes :(, mentions of death

AUTHOR’S NOTE: the secret collab is finally here! thanks @kimtaehyunq for letting me join💞 i’m so excited to read the other fics as well! & thank you Mags for doing this amazing banner I think this is the prettiest banner I've ever had. 🤧 Tysm love��

MERRY CHRISTMAS

People usually say she looks a lot like her father, but all Yoongi sees in Ara is his wife. Wherever his daughter goes, his wife's ghost follows, the memory of his teenage love and the wonderful years they spent together until she left their lives.

Min Dasom died almost one year after Ara was born, her death coming too sudden for anyone to bid their last goodbyes-leaving her husband and baby heartbroken and alone.

It was awful, Yoongi won't be able to forget that one night the police called him, telling him that his precious wife drowned in the ocean during her monthly trip to the beach with her friends.

Ever since that call, Yoongi has never stepped near a beach again, never felt hot sand between his toes again, never went swimming again.

It was hard, being a single parent and Yoongi was tempted to give up many times, but seeing Ara grow and bloom into the beautiful girl she is now, Yoongi is beyond thankful that he survived the pain and sorrow.

He never drowned his thoughts in alcohol because his sunshine always looked at him with her sad little eyes, almost as if she knew what he wanted to do and hugged his legs tightly until Yoongi set the bottle away and picked Ara up and spent the night cuddling her.

Things got easier as soon as Ara was old enough to finally go to kindergarten, allowing Yoongi to work more hours and on a daily basis again. It's not like he needed a lot of money, it's just that Yoongi needs to work.

He's used to working all the time, he's always been-because working doesn't give him time to think about the tragedy that is his life.

Money wasn't an issue for the Min family, Yoongi used to be one of the most successful pianists and producers in South Korea, but he gave up on that as soon as Ara was born, just to have time for his family.

His friend Hyunjin offered him a job as a songwriter and composer at his own label JinHit Entertainment.

Yoongi could work from home whenever he wanted and needed to, but the studio Hyunjin set him up was way better and filled with new technology that Yoongi loved playing and experimenting with.

The acclimatization to her new daily routine wasn't easy for Ara because she wasn't used to having women in her life-until now, it has always been Yoongi and Ara. They ended up switching kindergarten two times before Ara came into the one that you've been working at for a while now-instantly falling in love with you.

The first few days with your new reference child we're quite… interesting because the little girl was full of action and so curious about every little thing in the room that you couldn't sit still and talk to her father for a while because Ara grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the next game she wanted to play.

Her father, Min Yoongi, sent you an apologetic smile as he watched you play with his daughter from a distance, giving you time to get used to each other and build a bond. You winked at him as you took a seat next to Ara and started to explain the rules of the board game to her-impressed about how well she was understanding them.

It didn't take Ara a long time to send Yoongi home, waving him goodbye and pressing a loud kiss onto his lips. "Go and work, Appa! Uncle Hyunjinnie waits for you to make good music!"

Yoongi looked at her with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're telling me to leave? Just to go and work? That is rude, princess."

You giggled and hugged Ara as she ran over to you, Yoongi long forgotten.

"Would you like to bring your dad to the door, Ara? I think he might be sad if you won't. Remember: he won’t see you for a few hours and you don’t want your dad to be sad during lunch, right?"

Ara giggled but nodded nonetheless and grabbed Yoongi by the hand. "Hurry!"

Yoongi looked at you in shock, desperately trying to hold in his laugh. "I think you gave me Ara's evil twin instead of my sweet little princess! Where is my nice girl that always kisses Appa goodbye?"

You shrugged your shoulders playfully as one of the other kids asked for you to help him with building a big tower out of building blocks. "Have a nice day, Mr Min. Oh and make sure you won't forget about our appointment on Thursday! I don't think it'll take longer than an hour, it's just to talk about Ara's development so far."

Yoongi was one of the few parents that were always punctual, not even a minute too late-and the only parent you've never felt any kind of rage towards. Not only that, but he attended every kindergarten fest, always prepared little cupcakes for Ara's birthday to bring with her to kindergarten and share with her friends.

May was rolling around quickly and you were as eager as always to craft some little gifts for the children to give their mothers.

You prepared some candle wax and melted it so the kids could fill it in plastic forms and add glitter and scent to their preference, just to have a nice little gift to give.

Most of the kids had fun, some of them were a bit grumpy because they got glitter all over themselves, but there is one little girl pouting and trying not to cry in front of them, not even touching the wax.

Ara.

It breaks your heart every time, knowing that Ara's mother died years ago and that she probably had no other woman in her life because you’ve already heard that her father works quite a lot.

Squatting down next to the little girl, you gently pinch her stomach just to hear her little giggles.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't you want to make a nice candle?"

Ara looks up at you, one single tear slipping out of her eye. "I don't have a mom, so no candle for me."

You coo, playing with Ara's hair as you stand up again, leading her towards the crafting table.

"That doesn't matter, Ara. I think your dad will be happy to get a candle too! We can pick a different color than pink, what do you think does he like the most? I’m sure we will find something!"

Ara taps her chin, smiling slightly as she thinks about Yoongi's favorite color. "Black! He wears black clothes! Always! Do we have black glitter, Y/N?"

She scrunches her nose at the first few oils, but one scent really lights up her face. "This smells like Appa! Can we use this?"

"We do, I didn't put it on the table because usually nobody wants it so it sits on the shelf, all by itself. I think the glitter finally deserves to be used!" You smile at the kid, grabbing the small container of glitter from the shelf and handing it over to Ara.

"We do have a few scents, would you like to smell them? Choose whichever you think smells the best and we can put a few drops in the wax,' you offer the bowl of different oils to Ara and help her open the lids.

Ara holds up the little bottle of rose oil and you smile to yourself. Black roses, that really seems to fit the impression you have of Mr. Min.

"Of course. Now, let's mix the glitter with the wax and we can put it into the mold. Alright, now stir it while i put in a few drops of the rose oil, okay?"

You guide her through the process, talking to her and listening to her rambling about the piano lessons Mr. Min gives her on a regular basis, just because Ara wants to be like her favorite man in the world.

"He is a great dad, Ara. You're so lucky to have him, I know that he must be sad sometimes too, but you're such a sunshine and help him as much as he helps you," you hug her from the side, enjoying the way Ara leans into the hug as well.

"I want a mom, but Appa is almost like a mom! He lets me paint his nails, goes to ballet with me and always bakes princess cookies for our tea parties!"

Ara giggles as she dips the wick into the liquid wax.

"Appa needs a woman to love, the only dates he goes to are work-dates with uncle Hyunjin," she says.

And yes, you think so as well.

One day around September, you decide that it’s definitely hot enough to prepare the blow-up outside pool for the kids, allowing them to change into their swimsuits and let them play around, even adding some bubbles to the water to let them experiment.

Mr. Min smiles at you, his gums fully showing and you can’t help but smile as well as you hear his words.

“And I think there’s no job that you could do better than this one.”

You’re sitting next to the pool on a bench in the shadow, reading some books to those few kids that don’t want to hop into the water as Ara jumps out of the pool.

“Y/N, come inside as well, it’s so nice!” She jumps up and down, her wet ponytail dripping onto her shoulders.

You pout, pointing to the kids next to you. “I can’t, you know that some of the kids are still afraid to go into the water with so many other children around. Maybe next time. Now, go and enjoy it, it’s super hot and I don’t know when autumn will come around and surprise us with bad weather!”

Ara nods quickly, hopping back into the water and continues splashing some water around with her friends, but she glances at you every few seconds. Then, she whispers with her two best friends before all three of them nod as they look at you.

Suddenly, they run towards you, surprising you with wet hugs and loud giggles, leaving your white summer dress almost see through.

Suddenly, there’s someone clearing his throat right behind you and you wish you could sink deep down into the pool once you see that it’s Mr. Min.

“Girls!,” you can’t help but yelp, the cold water causing you to jump up from the bench. Yet, you laugh with them, the cooling really helping you with the heat.

“You can’t just do that, Ara. Look at my dress now, you can almost see through it, you’re lucky that the parents won’t come in within the next two hours, otherwise they would see me like this,” you try to look stern, but to be honest: you would have done the same if you were Ara.

“Ara, why did you do that?,” he asks with his calm voice and tries his best not to look at your hardening nipples under the dress.

Ara’s bottom lip trembles as she looks at you with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just thought it would be funny…”

Mr. Min turns to you and bows slightly. “I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have done that. And well, I came to pick her up earlier because we will visit her grandparents over the weekend. I should’ve informed you earlier. Is there any way I can help you with your… erm, dress?”

Mr. Min nods at you, picking up his-still wet-daughter as he looks you up and down slow enough to leave goosebumps all over your skin once again.

You blush, shaking your head as you grab Ara’s clothes and hand her to her father.

“It’s alright, Mr. Min, it’s not your fault-and a water fight is too much fun to just not do it, right, Ara? It’s sunny enough so I’ll just bring the bench into the sun and I’ll be dry soon enough! I hope you’re having fun with your grandparents, Ara! Have a nice weekend, Mr. Min.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Min, really. You don’t know how many children happen to call one of us mom without realizing it. It’s nothing too wild, I’ve gotten used to it and I think especially in Ara’s case… It was supposed to happen, you know? I mean, I don’t want to intrude on your private life, but I suppose you’re not seeing another person and Ara isn’t growing up with other females, so she takes those she sees here as a female person to bond with, you know?”

“Thank you, mommy! Oh… I mean Y/N..,” Ara quirps as he turns around in her father’s arms, even though it doesn’t look like she’s really sorry at all.

“Ara!” Mr. Min gasps as he looks at his daughter.

Yoongi shakes his head. “I haven’t seen another woman ever since my wife died. Ara is the only woman in my life, the only one I give all my love to. She deserves it,” he sighs. “But you’re right, I think another female person would really help her with growing up. I just don’t want to introduce her to some random woman I might not even want to spend the rest of my life with. Is this egoistic?”

His honest words hit you, knowing how lonely he must be, all alone with his little girl and a bunch of work he has to do. “It’s not, Mr. Min. You don’t have to date just because you think it would be the best for Ara. There are many single fathers that raise their kids perfectly fine and I think you’re one of them! Ara never tells bad stories about you and I think you’re doing a really good job, spending all of your free time with her and allowing her to experience so many fun things. I’ve met so many ‘happy’ families that didn’t even manage to pack breakfast for their kids, so really, don’t break your head over something like this! I’m happy that Ara accepted me so much and that she always comes to me whenever she has a problem. This is why I chose my job.”

Over the next few months, Mr. Min is all that’s on your mind, even though you know how unprofessional it is, but he’s even kinder to you than he’s been before. You usually have a small chat with every parent whenever they bring or pick up their children, but Mr. Min makes sure to always catch you and ask you about your day, if there’s anything new in your life and you can’t help but ask him about his work and the songs he’s been working on as well.

“Ah, it’s really stressful right now. I’m working with this band that’s debuting soon and we have to prepare and finish the entire album I wrote about five songs for. They’re really good but still so young, I think the oldest is 16? Or was it 17? Whatever, that’s like ten years younger than me! I think I’ll grow grey hair soon when I keep on working with such young idols,” he sighs playfully as he helps Ara to put on her shoes and jacket.

“I mean, you’re not that old, Mr. Min. Don’t worry-as long as you keep that handful smile you will look like you’re straight out of some perfume poster. But I’d love to listen to one of your songs! I mean, if you’d let me,” you smile with honesty as you hand Ara her backpack.

Mr. Min shrugs, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he opens his Spotify account. He types something in and turns the screen towards you. AGUST D, it says. You scrunch your eyes at the name, trying to remember where you’ve known it from, but it doesn’t ring a bell right now.

“I’ll make sure to listen to some of your songs, I hope they aren’t too sad though, I prefer my music to be more… pop and rock?”

You cringe at your own words, hoping that the man knows what you were trying to say.

And fuck, you did like it. Turns out that AGUST D wasn’t some softie that plays guitar lullabies, no.

Yoongi cracks a grin, then winks at you playfull before he takes Ara’s hand after she said goodbye to you.

“I think you’re going to like it.”

AGUST D seems to be one of the best rappers in the music industry that you’ve ever been listening to. He sounds so aggressive and fast that you needed to listen twice to some of his songs to understand what he was saying, but you ended up adding much more songs into your playlist than you’d like to tell him.

But you did tell him.

“Oh, I’m not doing that crazy rap thing anymore. It was a phase, I guess. By now, I use the name to help smaller musicians and trainees, produce their songs and write their lyrics. It’s better to do so with a bigger name, but AGUST D died a long time ago, I guess I killed him.” Mr. Min says the next day.

"I mean, as long as you keep all of them on Spotify, I'm alright with that. Most of those songs match my aggressive driving vibe and I can't imagine driving to work without it." You try to joke before you realize what it must've sounded like. "Oh lord, I didn't mean it like that!"

You blush, trying to hide your reddened cheeks in your palms, but Mr. Min just laughs it off.

"Don't worry, I get what you mean. I usually play Love Talk as soon as i leave this building."

He even has the audacity to wink at you before he leaves with a grin, causing Ara to coo.

"Appa really likes you if he teases you!"

And the teasing goes on and on, there’s almost no day without a snarky comment from Mr. Min or a sarcastic comment from you-but neither of you takes those words to heart because that’s what you need in your lives, someone to laugh with, someone to make jokes with.

Even though there are plenty of other children in your group and so many parents you talk to daily, the only one you’re happy to see in the afternoon is Mr. Min.

The summer is long gone and fall said goodbye a few weeks ago, December came around and your little crush on Mr. Min isn’t as little anymore-and you can’t help yourself but wonder if he might be into you as well. You’ve shared a few noons talking about Ara’s development and if she’s ready for school next September, but most of the times you didn’t talk about the girl for more than thirty minutes before one of you switched the topic to something more private as the man leans closer to you and locks his gaze with yours.

You’re not as nervous around him as you were before and you can feel him starting to open up towards you as well. Yet, you’ve never met outside of the kindergarten, knowing it would be way too unprofessional and you’d never want to ruin the wonderful bond you share with Ara just because you’re desperate to jump into her father’s lap and call him Daddy too.

You’re not one of those women to go into a club and have a dirty one night stand with a random stranger, but you’ve been too busy to actually go and meet people, so you’ve kind of gotten used to being alone, even though you’re really missing late night cuddles and Disney marathons.

It’s Saturday afternoon and you’ve been strolling through the mall for a while now, looking for some christmas presents for your friends and family-but also wanting to treat yourself because work has been more than just exhausting lately.

You’ve been handling the entire group alone, having a lot more smaller children because new kids have been coming to kindergarten and having to deal with so many parents alone can be pure hell. Sadly enough you’re living all by yourself, only having a few close friends that don’t understand why you’re even doing this underpaid job and your last relationship crashed almost two years ago.

The mall looks amazing, beautiful christmas ornaments are hanging from the ceiling and there must be someone playing the piano somewhere because the soft melodic tunes fill the entire mall, reminding you of Mr. Min once again.

You just stepped out of a lingerie store, something you’re really passionate about even though nobody but yourself sees you in it, but you love the feeling of lace on your skin, love how beautifully the soft colors compliment your skin and love imagining Mr. Min ripping the soft material off you.

The small paper bag in your hand, you look around for another shop that might hold the next christmas present for one of your friends.

“Appa, please! I already have a picture but we need you to have one too!”

You know that voice too well to ignore it, searching the area for the small owner of it, giggling as you found her. Ara and Mr. Min are in the Santa area of the mall that gives you the ability to sit on Santa’s lap and take a picture with him as you tell him your biggest christmas wishes.

But the little girl is not sitting on Santa’s lap, she’s trying to push her father towards the man with the fake beard, clearly wanting him to sit down on that lap.

You giggle, walking towards them just to find out what’s going to happen.

“Ara, I’m too old and heavy for poor Santa, I think he prefers girls your age-wait, no not like that. I think he likes boys and girls-ugh. You’re driving me crazy, princess. Look, there’s a few other kids wanting to have their time with Santa as well, why don’t we just leave and try to find some more presents from the giftshop here, hm?” The man tries to talk his daughter into leaving the uncomfortable situation, but Ara is as stubborn as ever-she always gets what she wants, especially from her father.

“But… I want you to have pictures with Santa too!” She pouts, looking over at the confused Santa before she hears your giggle. “Y/N!”

Mr. Min turns around, a shocked expression on his face and a soft pink tint on his cheeks.

“Oh, Ms. Y/L/N. What a surprise.”

You giggle even more, stepping closer towards them. “Hello Ara, good afternoon Mr. Min,” you bow slightly before accepting the little girl’s hug.

“I see, you really want to sit on Santa’s lap, but Ara doesn’t want to let you because she’d be embarrassed.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. “Horrible, those children. I mean, I just want a nice christmas picture with Santa, but you know how they are… right before puberty hits them.”

“Y/N, Appa doesn’t want to take a picture with Santa, would you sit on his lap and take a picture for me?” Ara looks up at you with her big eyes and like always, you can’t say no. Instead, you hand Mr. Min your bags-not thinking about the fact that one of them is from the lingerie store-before taking Ara’s hand and walking over to the smiling Santa.

The picture is quickly taken and not even five minutes later, Mr. Min hands you your bags, whispering, so Ara wouldn’t hear you. “I think the peach one will suit you the best.”

Ara nods and rips the bags out of Mr. Min’s hands to show you her cute dresses and bows while the man just stares at you with an open mouth. Did you really just say that to him?

You gasp, hiding the bags behind your back but who are you to deny the fact that this man is the exact reason you stepped into the store?

“Thank you, I hope someone will get to see them before Christmas. It would be a shame to waste those pretty pieces for some lame mirror selfies,” you smile innocently before squatting down next to Ara. “Did you buy something nice yet?”

“Appa, we wanted to get hot chocolate, can Y/N come too please?”

Yoongi is speechless once more as he quietly follows his daughter and her kindergarten teacher towards the mall’s cafe-realizing that he shouldn’t have chosen his tightest pair of skinny jeans because somehow, they got quite uncomfortable as soon as you arrived.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at his daughter before he picks up all the dresses that Ara tried to shove back into the bags. “If she wants, she’s welcome to join, but I think you should ask her first, maybe she is busy.”

You blush at the invitation, not sure whether to accept it or not-but you’re not one to decline on hot chocolate. Smiling at Ara, you nod. “Show me where to get the best hot chocolate, I’m craving something sweet and thick down my throat.”

He watches you as Ara grabs your hand and swings them around with a soft giggle, heart warming as he sees your fond smile.

Ara talks about you a lot-hell, Yoongi asks about you a lot whenever Ara doesn't want to talk about you but watch her favorite show.

It's unprofessional and probably not allowed, Yoongi knows, but Ara leaves for school in March anyways, so who cares?

It's obvious to the both of you that you're interested in each other, the flirting and teasing coming to a point where Yoongi can't wait for another snarky remark of yours.

And now that he has the chance to sit and talk with you outside of your workplace, you just chose to buy a bag full of fucking beautiful lingerie (yes, Yoongi looked inside, no, he doesn't regret it).

Ara leads you into this beautiful cat cafe that apparently has "The best hot chocolate and bubble tea, but it's too cold for bubble tea… Can they make hot bubble tea?" as Ara says, earning a harsh "no" from Yoongi, because that's something he wishes for as well.

"Go find a place with Mr. Y/L/N, Ara. I'll get your order, yeah? What can I order for you?" Yoongi looks at you as he pulls out his wallet, giving you some time to read the menu.

"Oh, the candy cane hot chocolate, please! And please, as long as we are not talking inside the kindergarten, call me Y/N. I mean, you've seen my underwear, I think you deserve to call me by my name."

Yoongi blushes, nodding and rushes towards the cashier to order your drinks. You smile at the man, then at the cats-they look somewhat similar-before you sit down next to Ara who is currently petting four cats on her lap.

"They're adorable," you coo, "Do you have any pets?"

Ara nods with a big smile and hands you one of the cats, a pretty one with orange fur and big eyes.

"I have a turtle! Gukkie gave it to me and Appa didn't like it first, but I love her!"

You enjoy the cat's purring as you gently stroke her chin. "A turtle sounds lovely, I hope you can show it to me one day."

"Oh, that won't be a problem, I can invite you for dinner and Appa will get shy and red in the face, but he wouldn't say no because he's super soft for-" "ALPACAS! I'm soft for alpacas, haha, here we go, three hot chocolates."

Yoongi appears with a pained expression as he places your hot chocolate right in front of you.

"Thanks, Yoongi," you smile at the man and Yoongi swears that his heart stopped beating for a second. "I'm soft for Alpacas as well."

Right after you all finished your drinks, Ara decides that it’s time to walk through the mall once more, just to make sure that Santa is still there and will take another picture with hot chocolate-filled Ara.

“Did you enjoy your date with Y/N, Appa?” She looks up at her father as you walk towards the mall. Yoongi trembles, blushing brightly. “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a date, Ara. Don’t assume things like this, it’s rude,” he mumbles as he gently pets her head to make sure she isn’t hurt by his comment.

You giggle, whispering loud enough for Yoongi to hear. “I really liked it, Ara. Your Appa can be funny if he wants to.”

The picture with Santa comes out pretty, even though the man groaned as two grown adults decided to sit on each of his legs, the bright smiling Ara kneeling in front of them. But it’s really worth it, because Yoongi’s smile never leaves his lips this evening, gums showing beautifully on the picture and you quickly make sure to get a copy of that picture as well.

Yoongi’s eyes widen. “So was this a… you know?” It’s endearing, how shy he suddenly seems to be. You’ve never seen him like this. Stressed, overworked and happy - yes. Shy and blushing? Never.

You nod with a soft smile as you lay your hand on his shoulder.

“Yes, I’d like that to be a ‘you know what’, Yoongi.”

You can't even tell when the two of you officially started dating, but you'll never forget the first kiss you've shared during one of your walks-thanks to Ara for snapping a picture of it. Yoongi's hands wrapped around your waist, eyes clenched shut and lips curled in a soft smile as fresh snow fell down on you.

Seeing Yoongi at work wasn’t as weird as you had expected it to be, it’s quite the opposite. He’s attentive and lovely, bringing you fresh croissants or donuts every morning or puting little chocolate for you and Ara in his daughter’s lunchbox.

He’s caring, picking you up after your shift to invite you to dinners and walks through the forest with Ara, because that little girl just loves walking in the fresh snow that has started to fall recently. She takes pictures of your footprints with Yoongi’s phone and makes him promise to print it for her to hang up.

“Of course I can, Ara. You’re already wearing your sleeping clothes and you’ve brushed your teeth with Appa, so hurry up and pick out the book you want me to read!”

Ara grows closer and closer to you, until that one day where you stay over the Min’s house for dinner, she asks you to bring her to bed.

“Can she, Appa? I want her to read my favorite bedtime story to me! Please, Y/N,” Ara looks up at you with a pout, her beautiful eyes-that remind you of Yoongi-sparkling with admiration.

That girl really makes your heart melt, combined with the soft smile that Yoongi gives you. And suddenly, you feel like you’re meant to be here, helping that man that you’ve grown so close to, helping the girl that lost her mother way too early and maybe even helping yourself with accepting that love really comes unexpectedly.

You gently tuck the soft blanket over Ara and place her favorite stuffie next to her as you smile at the girl fondly. "Sleep well, Ara," you whisper quietly, trying not to wake her up.

"Kissies, please," she mumbles sleepily and makes grabby hands towards you.

"Ara, I-" "Please," she whines and opens her eyes, tears starting to build up.

"Okay, it's okay, Ara." You swipe her hair out of her face before you plant a soft little kiss onto the girl's forehead. "Good night, sweetheart."

"Good night, Y/N. Will you be there tomorrow morning?"

Your smile fades, unsure if you really want to tell the little girl the truth.

"Probably not, I have to get ready for work. You know that I love to wear dresses on Thursdays and I didn't bring mine. But we will see each other in the kindergarten!"

"Okay," she whispers before she falls back into a quiet slumber.

Yoongi has cleaned the kitchen in the meantime and poured more wine for the both of you to enjoy in front of the fireplace.

"She really adores you," he says as you sit down next to him, sipping the rosé Yoongi bought just for you.

"And I adore her. She's an angel. Thank you for allowing me to spend so much time with her, Yoon."

Yoongi blushes again, shaking his head. The greyish blonde hair got messier as the evening passed. "No, Y/N. You're the first mother-figure Ara has, I have to thank you in both mine and Ara's name. I know that dating a single father is a lot, but you're accepting my family so well… I never thought I'd find another woman in my life again. Ever since my wife died, it was hard for me to even look at other women, let alone build up something like a relationship with them because I always felt bad. But that's what she would have wanted for me. To love again, to not waste my last handsome days," his lips curl into a smirk before he shakes again.

Then, his sharp eyes met yours and soften within seconds.

"I… I don't know if it's the right time, we've known each other for two years, we've been officially dating for only three weeks, but I think I won't change my mind about it-no I know that I won't change my mind. I love you, Y/N. And I know that Ara loves you too."

You gasp, lips beginning to tremble once your eyes meet Yoongi's. "Yoongi…," you whisper before you place your glass on the table and basically jump onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I wanted to be the one to tell you first. I love you so much, Yoongi. I've had this stupid crush on you ever since you saw me in that wet dress, ever since you've shown me your music. Ever since I've seen you being the wonderful father you are-and that's so sexy, you can't even imagine."

Yoongi smirks as his hands find their place on the curve of your ass. "Sexy, huh? Me, doing the laundry and cooking dinner? Or me walking Ara to kindergarten with the homemade lunch boxes? That turns you on?"

You laugh, hiding your face in his neck as you lean closer to press your lips against his ear.

"All of that-and the way that you love Ara with all your heart, that's maybe the sexiest thing about you."

The man groans as he grabs you even tighter. "I never thought that sweet talk would turn me on even more than dirty talk," he laughs shakily as he wiggles his hips slightly to get into a more comfortable position that won't suffocate his hardening erection.

You sigh, sit up and run your hands through his hair. "Isn't all of this too early? I always tell myself that I shouldn't fall so fast, but here I am, ready to go every step with you."

Yoongi nods before he presses a peck on your nose. "Same, but we have all the time on earth. Ara wants us to get married by tomorrow, but I'm sure she'll survive it if we decide to postpone it for a few weeks."

You giggle as you look over your shoulder to the fireplace. "Did someone ever suck you off in front of a fireplace? Isn't this the definition of Christmas?"

The man underneath you gasps in shock. "No, but… I mean, I… You don't… have to?"

Laughing, you slide out of his lap and onto the floor, thankful for the soft carpet. "I want to, bubs. I wouldn't do something either of us isn't comfortable with. I assume you're alright with it?"

"Of course, but… I guess nobody ever did it because they wanted to, but because they feel like they had to?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, obviously disappointed in his previous partners.

"It's as much fun and pleasure for me as it is for you, believe me, Yoon. Now lay back and enjoy, yeah?" You give him a calming smile as you open his pants carefully, then sliding them down his toned legs.

You press kisses all around his thighs to warm him up to the feeling, knowing that it has to be overwhelming to have some that close after all that time. Then, you gently remove his boxer shorts as well, leaving him bare and proud in front of you.

You groan as you start to stroke his cock, earning a low growl from Yoongi. "So beautiful," you whisper, then you take him into your mouth, getting a feeling for the weight on your tongue before you start bopping your head.

Yoongi tries to contain himself, knowing that Ara could wake up every second, but alone the sight in front of him could make him come with a scream.

Instead, he cups your cheek, feeling the bulge that he causes there. Another groan leaves his lips.

You look up at him, smirking-or trying to, with a mouth full of cock-and leading his hand into your hair, using it to push you down even more.

Yoongi's eyes lighten up. "Really?"

You almost laugh out, but you're doing your best to contain yourself and nod, placing your hands on his thighs to stop whenever you can't take it anymore. Yoongi is long and thicker than the average you've had before, but it's a challenge that's worth it.

He pushes you down slowly, enjoying the hot warmth of your mouth and then your throat as he pushes in-surprised that you didn't really gag around him.

Spit trickles down your chin as he moves faster, thrusting his hips to meet the movements of his hand and enjoying the gurgling sounds you make.

He comes far to quick for his own liking, shooting his load down your throat with a quiet groan. "Fuck."

You giggle as you swallow what he gives you, standing up to sit back on his lap to kiss him.

"You're welcome."

Then, before you can grab your wine again, he flips you around and goes on his knees in front of you. "My turn," he smirks, eyes shining dangerously behind his fringe.

"Yoongi, I-," you try to say, but he shushes you with a sloppy kiss.

"I know that I have to, but believe me: I love giving pleasure more than receiving it."

You pout, hands running through his soft hair.

"I didn't shave…," you whisper, a bit ashamed because you didn't come prepared, not thinking that this would be happening today.

The man in front of you raises an eyebrow.

"Do you think I am a 15 year old, pre puberty fuckboy that cares about shaved pussies? It's natural, love. Even if you can't believe it: I grow hair too, nobody is freshly shaved every day. I don't mind that, okay? Now, stop pouting and let me do my work, will you? Can you be a good girl and do that for me? All you've got to do is lean back, open your legs, throw them around my shoulders and let me devour you."

His shameless words turn you on, you can't even deny it-especially not when your panties are that damp. So, you naturally obey and help him to remove your pants.

"I told you, peach is your color," Yoongi groans in his deep Satoori as he looks at your clothed core. The peach colored lace has darkened from your arousal and the man can't help it but press his face against the material, licking one bold stripe over it.

Nobody has ever done that to you, rather pulled them off in a hurry because they thought that body fluids were disgusting, but Yoongi didn't seem to mind as he gently bites your folds through the lace.

"God," you moan in pleasure as Yoongi finally pulls your panties to the side and spits onto your pussy, making it even wetter.

You're a whimpering mess as soon as Yoongi's tongue is on you, flicking and playing with your clit, collecting your juices and spreading them all over your pussy. You've read about that before; men eating pussy like they're starving, but Yoongi is somewhat different.

He eats pussy like he wants you to always remind it, to make you obedient and never being able to enjoy anyone else doing that job.

He does it well-of course. His tongue is as fast as he's been spitting rhymes on his mixtape, and you're more than thankful for that.

He doesn't even get to use his fingers before your orgasm approaches you, strong waves of pleasure hitting you as Yoongi keeps on kissing and slowly licking you through your high.

Then, he grins at you. "Round two, here we go."

And this time, it's not only his tongue working wonders, but also his fingers stroking you on the inside until they found your spot.

You press your hands on your mouth to keep yourself from screaming out loud, hips bucking wildly as you come for a second time within less than ten minutes. And again, Yoongi guides you through it and softly caresses your stomach.

"Fuck, I love you," you pant as he comes back up and steals a kiss from you.

"I can't wait to have you in my bed properly," he whispers and takes a large sip from his wine.

You can only agree.

You've started to spend the nights at Yoongi's more often, bringing Ara to work with you and helping Yoongi with her and the household whenever you can. Your relationship blooms beautifully and Ara is the happiest little bean when you're around.

Obviously, you spent Christmas with Yoongi and Ara as well, buying little presents and enjoying the comfortable atmosphere with the family.

Yoongi gave you a spare key to his house, so you're always able to visit them, spending the nights there and soon enough, you moved in.

❄❄❄❄

The Christmas after that, you surprised Ara with the adoption papers, telling her that now that she's in school and not one of your kindergarten kids anymore, she'll be able to finally call you Mommy (not that Ara minded before, you just felt weird and guilty about it).

And here you are now, preparing the huge breakfast for your third Christmas around, smiling at the ring that adorns your finger.

"Smells fabulous, Mama," Ara says as she runs towards you and falls into your arms.

"Do you want me to help you with dessert, Mrs Min?" Yoongi asks as he presses a kiss onto your cheeks. You lean into his touch, shaking your head. "It's almost done. You can go into the living room, I'll be there in a minute to open our presents, bubs."

Yoongi prepares the fireplace, lightens some candles with Ara and lets his daughter hand out the presents.

"I have one more for you, Yoon," you whisper as you hand him a small box.

"Oh? Can I open this first?" He tilts his head curiously, shaking the light box.

"Open!" Ara squeaks and sits down between her father and you. You nod with a fond smile as Yoongi lifts the top. Then, silence.

"Really?" He whispers with teary eyes.

"Yes, finally," you smile, "Ara, you'll become a big sister!"

Yoongi sniffs, hugging his family tight.

"And she'll be the best sister in the world. Merry Christmas, loves."

#bts #bts fic #min yoongi x reader #single dad yoongi #ksmutclub #bangtansmutcentral #bangtanarmynet #suganetwork #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi #yoongi smut #magicshopnet #bts smut #bts fluff #christmas fic #bts christmas #christmas collab

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kookiessugababy · 3 years

Text

Unzip (Park Jimin) // 18+ nsfw!!

Warnings 🚨- daddy kink// thigh slapping//spanking//slightly rough//hickies//

-> scenario: after a terrible night meeting your father for the first time in years, your best friend Jimin makes it his job to help you alleviate your upset.

Hope you enjoy <3

*****************************************************

His hoodie hung off over you- emerald shards of your silk dress appearing below the hem. Both damp and uncomfortable the rain poured upon the two of you. Running in the desolate street with frozen hands grasping one another, giggles erupting from his lips as he pulled you along. Apartments shone a purple glow upon the pavements- illuminating the puddling water. You watched him with delight as he tugged you, an overwhelming sense of happiness flooding out the rain.

You had met with your father for the first time in years over a polite dinner at a fine restaurant- him paying the expenses. The experience had been awkward and confining, with every expression showing disgust as you exchanged your lifestyle with his. For the first time in years, you had felt so uncomfortable in a place you loved- and with his angered complexion as he watched you gloat about how wonderful you found your new life you felt the need to escape. Despite his morals, moving to Seoul was the best decision you had ever made, quickly making best friends with a customer going by the name of Park Ji-min within days of your new cafe job. Later finding out he was somehow part of a globally successful music group, Jimin had introduced you to his band members who had grown very fond of you- now spending almost every moment messaging or seeing them. Your relationship with them was rather spontaneous, thinking about it. Very sudden, almost strange consider their status- but you would never change it for the world. Problems often lay between you and your wealthy father - your alternative lifestyle regressing his attempt to make you thrive in the business world. His filthy rich fingers had only came to tousle with your “getting along” lifestyle you were portraying to him over a plate of Daeji Bulgogi- but you were fine. In fact, the rain was thrashing your face and you were beaming at the boy pulling you along- fits of giggles erupting from your mouth as the movie like scenario lulled you into a state of euphoric bliss showed him you were more than fine. Street lights were a delightful blur at the moving pace, water splashing your legs with each step- your apartment appearing to sight as Jimin turned a silhouette around the corner.

Fumbling for your keys in Jimin’s jumper, you unlocked the door to the warm air of the room, damp fingers searching for the light switch as you both continued to giggle. Catching your reflection in the hanging mirror, you inspected your soaked hair, makeup dripping from your face and dress sopping. “Lemme help you out of that, y/n” Jimin offered, his hands moving to the hem of the jumper. It was slightly stuck as he peeled it from you, laughing as your face scrunched against the uncomfortable fabric. “I’m sorry about tonight” Jimin resonated, balling up the fabric as he tried to sympathise with you. It felt unnecessary as you stood watching him in the yellow glow of the light- a now opaque shirt sticking to his toned chest - defined features staring at your own. You shook your head and smiled thankfully- “I appreciate you meeting me so late!” You chirped, laughing again slightly as he kicked off his water filled shoes. “You know where I am y/n. How about we get you changed?” He replies, taking your hand in his own. Yup shivered on his touch- the unfamiliar intimacy almost surprising you as he guided you through the corridor.

Swinging your legs, you perched on the edge of your bed watching Jimin make his way around your room- filing through cupboards and drawers to dress you. He was humming a familiar tune as he spun around, handing you a large hoodie and some shorts. Smiling, he passed them to you as you thanked him yet again for his kind help. Rising from the bed, you felt followed by his eyes- your dress pressed to your figure with water- exaggerating its fit. The tension was thick and foreign, and unable to put your finger on it you questioned him. “May you help me unzip my dress?” It came an almost quiet mutter of embarrassment at your inability to undo it, but his keenness was evident by his gentle fingers snaking to your shoulders. They carved a line between your neck and back, eventually reaching the delicate zip. Like glass he touched you, carefully and sensually- pulling it down slowly. His index finger trailed behind, painting your skin with shivers. The fabric slipped past your legs with ease, laying in a pool at your feet- leaving you exposed in nothing but a small thong. Deafening silence echoed through his burning stare- your spine heating as he ran his hands down your sides, taking in the curves of your hips. Suggestively, they wandered down to your ass, staying there. His touch was a strange sensation- the previous absence of this desire pulsing an urge through you. “Jimin I-“ you stuttered, him shushing you almost immediately. Watching the wall, you heard him step forward, his hips now against your ass; “Hush, y/n”

Replying with a nod, you pressed your lips together as he mumbled something inaudible. The closeness of his cock made your clit pulse- his erection now pressing against you. Burying his face into you, his nose pressed against your neck- breathe steady as yours hitched.

Seconds felt like minutes, hot air whispering against you and tension only rising. Kissing sliced through the warmth as he nibbled your neck, dotting pecks all over your shoulders. Groaning lightly, his cock twitched against you. Uncertain yet sure, you pushed your ass towards him in a blatant reply, tilting your head to allow him greater access. “Mmm. You’re fucking beautiful” he groaned into your neck, a squeak rising from your throat as he nipped your skin with his teeth. Greedy hands searched your ass, squeezing and kneading your body- teasing as he treat your shoulder blades with his pouted lips. Your stomach flipped as he touched you in such way- the innocence of your friendship unzipped in a ball on the floor. Your heat grew wet as you considered his next move, fingers now grasping the string of your underwear to drop them down your thighs. Giving him more to tease, his hands slowly slid down the back of your thighs to touch your dripping pussy. Moving even closer, he stroked his finger across your slit- collecting juices from your arousal. Whining at the sensation, you bucked your hips as it vacated. Holding them to your mouth, you inspected his soaked fingers which only turned you on more. Glancing back to him for reassurance, you took his fingers into your mouth- sucking and cleaning the arousal from them. Hissing at your soft tongue wrapping around his fingers, he harshly pulled your hips to his swelling erection closing the remaining space between your bodies. You could feel yourself grow needy for him as you stood naked before him- saliva running from your mouth as you continued to suck. Skilfully, his other hand busied itself undoing his belt. As if a routine, he removed his garments with little movements- his cock slapping against your ass as your mouth remained occupied.

Needing some attention to your core, you began to grind against his cock as you muttered his name into his hand. “It’s daddy to you, baby” His low voice almost finished you on it’s own- the words sending you into a moaning mess. Suddenly, he thrusted into you- his cock filling you up with a new sense of urgency. As if he was too desperate to wait to allow you to adjust, he grasped your hips with harsh fingers, arching your back with arms pressed against the wall, and pounded into you harshly. The position he stood in give him an advantage to hit your spot continuously, sloppy sounds echoing through the room as he moved in and out of you. Slapping your ass, you moaned at the sting he left behind, his balls hitting upon the new red mark. “Baby let me hear you scream for me” he groaned, a slight grunt leaving his lips as his head fell back. With weak legs, you allowed your filthy moans to escape your mouth- his name spilling like ink, sinfully writing upon the walls. “You’re so tight y/n” the boy groaned, burying his cock as far as he could before thrusting yet again. Needing more, you begged for him to go harder- even if it felt impossible for him to do so- your heat almost numb at the speed. “H- harder daddy please I ne-ed more”

Your mouth was dry as he continued, unable to withhold a single sound as spanked your ass yet again. Every word you spoke was broken as he continued to guide your hips against his cock. Your walls felt tight and your stomach clenched as he twitched inside of you- circling your hips with avarice as he continued at his merciless pace. Spilling himself inside of you, his warm cum filled up your hole- drilling from you as his movements turned sloppy while he rode out his high. Before you could cum, he pushed you to the bed directly behind the both of you- your breasts bouncing at the force. “Fucking look at you. Look how hard you still have me.” he groaned, before lying himself on the bed next to you. You glanced at him in confusion, but before you could inquest- he interrupted your thoughts. “Sit on my face y/n. I want to see that pretty pussy drip all over me.” Gracefully moving your way over, you straddled his face as the warmth of his breath matched your heat. His nose pressed against your clit as he pushed his tongue insatiably inside your hole. Flicking his tongue at the entrance before diving further, he played with your wetness as you couldn’t help but grind against his face. Your back arched as he continued, humming into your crotch. With every movement you made, your clit gained friction from his nose. You watched as his hands gripped your thighs, holding them apart to give him accession. His dominance over you startled you slightly, having never seen him in such lustful state. Eyes squeezing shut, your back arched yet again as you came all over his face- the twisting of your stomach causing you to scream his name in pure shock. Heavily breathing, your bare chest rose as you dismounted him- watching his fingers lap up your cum and licking them clean. The sight made you flush crimson - his pretty features messed with your desperation. “So fucking pretty y/n. You taste so fucking pretty.”

Glancing down at yourself, marks coated you in a shirt of crimson- your thighs and ass bruised alongside hickies decorating your shoulders and neck like jewellery. “Oh y/n I’m sorry I should have asked” Jimin panicked, his hair now slightly messy after the previous events. Shaking your head in solace, you smiled and rested yourself upon his bare chest. “Would you like to stay over Jimin?”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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meltwonu · 3 years

Text

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 16]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, dom!seungcheol, oral(fem receiving), a little overstimulation, some hair pulling, dirty talk, possessive!seungcheol makes an appearance, sex toys, seungcheol riskin’ it all in this one 😏😳 yall!!! only 4 more chapters after this 🥺 it’s so crazy, I don’t even remember when I started this series but omg, my longest one yet! 💕 thank you so much for the support on cherry bomb, as always!! I love yall 💕💕 also my god has it been a week 😭 gonna do an inbox roundup tomorrow!💕 But for now, enjoy ch16 and have a good, safe weekend!! 💕🍒

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - x - x - x - x

“Let me get this straight… She asked you if you considered her your girlfriend and you said what?”

Seungcheol grimaces for the third time, brows furrowed when Jeongguk blinks at him incredulously. “I’m sorry, I just---I need to hear it from your lips again, hyung.”

“Ugh, I said ‘sure’, okay!? I got nervous! That was a big fuckin’ question!” Seungcheol tugs at his own hair, groaning as he slams his head down onto the concession stand. “Don’t even get me started on the look she gave me after. I had to sleep next to her, you don’t know how horrible that was after my fuck up.”

Jeongguk pats Seungcheol’s hair; shaking his head as he gently tries to comfort his hyung.

“What did she say afterwards?”

“She just said ‘oh, okay’ and then she changed topics.” Seungcheol lifts his head from the countertop, hair mussed as he stares back at Jeongguk who shoots him a pitiful look.

“And that was it? The two of you went to bed?” Seungcheol nods, “We ate a little and she started talking about work so I thought everything was okay? But the more I think about it the more I’m thinking ‘oh, okay’ isn’t really okay? Listen, I haven’t been in a relationship in a while and the last thing I ever expected out of meeting her was for her to be my girlfriend!”

Jeongguk laughs in return, “I can tell. You’re fuckin’ rusty as hell, hyung.”

“He said what?”

You groan as you pick up another plate. “He said ‘sure’ and then it got awkward. We ate dinner and then went to bed and this morning when he dropped me off, I felt like---weird? I was all shy all of a sudden, maybe even awkward.” Jun helps you clear off the table, taking a couple plates of his own before turning to face you.

“Like, ‘butterflies in my stomach’ kinda shy? Or, like, ‘that wasn’t really the answer I was looking for’ kinda awkward shy?”

Grimacing, you start to wipe down the table as Jun watches. “I’m not even sure. I mean… He didn’t say no, right? But I guess I was just expecting a little more than just ‘sure’. Nothing like, grandiose but… a little more than ‘sure’? It’s like he was replying to me asking if he wanted a piece of chocolate.”

Jun laughs, fingertips on his chin as he thinks of an appropriate response. “He might just be… awkward. I mean, what was the preface of this question? What conversation were you two having?”

Your lips press into a firm line, cheeks hot as Jun stares you down. “Okay… maybe you’re right. I didn’t really… work up to that question. I kinda just… asked it. I mean, you guys were asking about it in the comments too so I just thought--”

“Ah! There’s the problem though. I don’t think hyung was even in the chat at that point. So, just because all of us were talking about it doesn’t mean he knew, y’know? He might’ve just been caught off guard.”

“Ugh... fuck, you’re probably right.”

You and Seungcheol don’t talk about it.

Even though you can feel the tenseness between the two of you during dinner and even when he drops you off and picks you up from work Friday afternoon. It’s all clipped conversations and shy, awkward smiles like the two of you had met for the first time, all over again.

It eventually comes to a head when you’re only an hour away from needing to start your cam show, Friday night, and you realize that you weren’t sure if Seungcheol was going to be part of it or not. “Hey, ‘Cheol?” You ask, voice small as you stare at the back of his head. The male turns from his place on the sofa, eyes wide as saucers at your shy voice.

“Y-yeah?”

“Are you, um, going to cam with me tonight or…? I mean, I can do it alone, I just--I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, tonight.” Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek; he really wanted to talk about it and he didn’t understand why this, out of all the things, was so difficult for him to talk about.

“I--I don’t know. I just, I’m sorry, can I just... apologize first?” He groans as he gets up from the sofa and rounds it until he steps in front of where you sit atop the bed sheets. “It’s been so awkward and I know it’s because of me, so you don’t need to say anything. I just--I should’ve said more than ‘sure’, I was just nervous!” His cheeks burn red; wide eyes avoiding your own as you stare up at him. “I really want you to be my girlfriend, if I didn’t already make that clear. I was just thinking about how I never really expected you to like me that much, much less start a relationship with me, so the first thing that came out of my mouth was just… that. It was dumb, I should’ve said something else, but I think my brain was just mush by then.”

Your own cheeks feel hot at his confession; trying to hide the beaming smile that threatens to paint your features. “No--no, I should apologize a little too. I asked you that out of nowhere and made you panic. I should’ve worked it up better than that too.”

“I guess we’re both a little dumb, huh?” He laughs under his breath as he scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. “We can talk about everything else under the sun but that was just… harder to talk about in the moment.”

“Yeah, but we’re okay now, right? We’re an official c-couple?” You bite your lip, looking up at Seungcheol who seems to be staring off into the distance. A grin finds itself painted on his lips as he meets your shy eyes.

“That’s right, babygirl.”

Seungcheol decides to let you do your cam show alone tonight; watching from the sofa as you get settled on the bed before nodding at him and starting your stream.

“Hey, everyone! Happy Friday!”

The comments and donations flood in as soon as you start and you already hit your donation minimum before you even open your mouth to speak again. It catches you off guard momentarily as your eyes go wide and your lips part in a shocked expression.

“Whoa, that was so fast! We already hit the donation minimum!”

sleepy_wonu has donated $75

sleepy_wonu: your channel has grown so much in the past few weeks im not surprised lol

universe_WZ: yea seriously, i remember when it took us like 30 mins before we hit minimum

artist8hao has donated $75

artist8hao: now theres ppl we’ve never even seen before in the comments lol

angelhan has donated $50

tangerine_kwan has donated $50

“Oh I know! Remember that one cam show where it took me, like, almost an hour to reach minimum? If it weren’t for ‘dom.cheol’ then, I don’t think that one would’ve taken off at all!” You giggle at the memory, eyes momentarily flitting to Seungcheol who smiles back at you.

kitty_junjun: speaking of? No loverboy tonight?

therealchan99: oh yeah i didnt even notice he was gone 😌

chwenon: lmfao

“Ah, he said he wanted to take a break tonight so it’s just me! Hope that’s okay with you guys?” You pout at the camera, fingertips roaming your lingerie clad body as you read off a few more comments. “I’m so used to his hands all over my skin though… He gets me to cum so easily, y’know?”

You pick up a dildo sitting next to you on the bed; bringing the silicone toy to your lips as you moan. “This is the biggest toy I have and it’s not anywhere near the size of his cock...” Wrapping your lips around the tip, you start sucking on the toy, imagining it was Seungcheol’s cock instead when it fills your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut when you start grinding against the bedsheets underneath you and Seungcheol feels his throat going dry at the way you take more and more of the toy into your mouth until you’re gagging on it. Tears spring to your eyes when you feel your throat constricting around the silicone and you repeat this action a few more times before you’re pulling the toy from your mouth and sputtering to catch your breath.

gentleman_josh95: god youre so fucking pretty choking on cock

alphagyu97 has donated $50

alphagyu97: fuck i know

Setting the toy down, you immediately work to get your lingerie off; tossing it to the side before spreading your legs for the camera. “Mmh, I’m already so wet thinking about this toy filling me up…” You tease yourself with the toy, dragging the tip through your folds and collecting the wetness on it as you mewl.

xcaliburDK: but is it gonna be enough for you?

hoshi_tiger_xx: probably not, we all know the toys arent as good as the real thing lolol

You let out a whimper as you circle your clit with the tip of the toy. “I know… But I really want something inside my pussy…”

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his sweats at the way your words only sound sweeter to his ears now that the two of you had cleared the air. He bites his lip, palming himself through the material as he watches you from his place on the sofa.

alphagyu97: is ur tight lil cunt ready to take it?

therealchan99: why dont u use your pretty fingers to get yourself ready hmm?

You nod shakily, setting the toy down again before bringing your middle and index fingers to your lips to wet them properly before snaking them down your body. “Ah, my fingers aren’t as big either…” Mumbling, you pinch and tease your clit, moaning out loudly before dragging them down and sinking them into your soaked entrance.

“Fuh--fuck, mmh!” Regretfully, your fingers aren’t as thick or long as Seungcheol’s but you curl and scissor the digits inside of you to prep yourself for the toy.

The sound of your moans and cries mix in with the pinging on your laptop from donations and comments and for once, Seungcheol realizes how weird it is to be on the other side and not with you. Admittedly, he’d gotten quite used to being on cam with you that it seemed awkward to just be doing nothing on the other side of the room.

“Oh, ngh, I--I want the toy n-now…” Mewling, you pull your soaking fingers from inside of your pussy; bringing them to your lips to clean them off of your wetness before grabbing the toy again. You run the silicone through your folds as you get it covered in your slick before positioning it at your entrance and slowly sinking it in.

It was definitely smaller than Seungcheol and didn’t have the same girth, but you still whine and whimper when it fills you up to the base of the toy. “Ngh, feels g-good…”

universe_WZ: i just kno that toy is noy as satisfying as the real thing huh princess?

xcaliburDK: right? Her pretty lil pussy is probably so used to being stretched by a big cock

You thrust the toy into your pussy, soft cries spilling from your lips as you try to imagine it’s Seungcheol instead. In all honesty, you would’ve wanted him to film with you but you respected his decision to stay on the sidelines for tonight.

“Ah, it--it’s not the s-same… I--I need h-help…” You whine; shaky fingertips still working the dildo in and out of your soaking pussy.

“P-please, ah… the toy’s not, mmh, enough to make m-me feel good...”

In the time between you picking up the toy and you actually sliding into your wet cunt, Seungcheol internally argues with himself on what to do.

And it’s not until you start begging to the air for more that he mentally says ‘screw it’ and gets up from the sofa.

Your eyes are clamped shut as you try to chase the pleasure and soon you feel the bed dip; confused eyes peering back at Seungcheol who’s entire body, including his head, is in the camera’s shot. “W-wait, you---”

“Me, what? You asked for me, right?” He turns his head, eyes staring directly into the camera as he smirks.

“Hi. I’m her boyfriend. But I think the rest of you know that already, right?”

The comments go wild with Seungcheol’s sudden face reveal, even though you and him are already lost in each other as he grips the base of the dildo and starts pumping it inside of you, angling it as best as he can to graze against your g-spot.

xcaliburDK: i think i need to quit my job tomorrow

chwenon: ??? didnt u just start

angelhan: damn i knew this dude was gonna be hot as hell

kitty_junjun: whoa nice to see ur face

kitty_junjun: i take it u lovebirds made up

xcaliburDK: yea i did but i think ive embarrassed myself enough for one lifetime

xcaliburDK has donated $150

xcaliburDK: for my shame

Your entire body is aflame with Seungcheo’s confidence and you feel the pleasure building up even quicker now that he was here with you. “Ah, f-fuck…” Whining, you bite your lip to prevent yourself from calling out his name; something you were used to by now.

“What’s wrong, baby? Call my name. Let them know who makes you feel this fuckin’ good. Let them know who’s cock you always crave and who’s cock fills you up better than this toy ever fuckin’ could.”

“Fuck, S--Seungcheol!”

Your orgasm hits you out of left field; thighs clamping shut around his arm as he continues to fuck you with the dildo as you ride out your pleasure. He turns to face the camera yet again, winking at it cockily before he turns back to you. “That’s right, baby. Now I’m gonna eat your ‘lil cunt out and make you cum on my tongue while you let the entire world know who gets you this fuckin’ wet.”

He doesn’t give you a second to come down from your high before he’s nudging your thighs apart and sliding the dildo from inside of you. A shaky breath falls from your lips as he readjusts you on the bed; this time giving the camera a side view as you turn your head to face the camera.

The comments and donations continue to flood in, except now it seems like they’re going twice as fast.

xcaliburDK: kjdkjghsdkhg fuck

sleepy_wonu: well can i say at least hes not an old weirdo lol

sleepy_wonu: ❤️

chwenon: im like, pretty sure ive seen this dude come to the convenience store i work at

chwenon: bruh i met a celebrity and i didnt even know it

xcaliburDK: dont even get me started

Seungcheol pries your shaky legs apart before he eases himself down between them. “I want you to be as loud as fuckin’ possible. Understood?” He smiles at you warmly, but his words have a certain edge to them that has you nodding profusely.

“O--okay…”

He wastes no time; skilled tongue flicking at your swollen clit as you jolt and immediately tangle your hands into his hair. “Oh, god, Seungcheol I’m--I’m, ah, sensitive…” He smirks against your skin, noting the way you already start to grind against his tongue despite your words.

Resting your thighs against his shoulders, it allows him to eat you out easier as he flattens his tongue and drags it from your soaking entrance to your clit; alternating the pressure as you whine and whimper above him.

When he notices you trying to keep your noises in, he pulls away slightly, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue before speaking.

“I thought I told you I wanted to hear you, baby? Don’t get shy on me now.” He smirks, watching as the goosebumps rise on your skin. “In fact, why don’t you tell your lovely viewers how good I make you feel, hmm? Or tell them about the time you made me finger you in the restroom at work ‘cause your ‘lil cunt couldn’t wait.”

xcaliburDK: THE RESTROOM? At woRK?

artist8hao: ah one of the originals huh

gentleman_josh95 has donated $75

gentleman_josh95: for backstory

tangerine_kwan has donated $75

tangerine_kwan: seconded!

You bite your lip when you catch the comments, shy eyes flitting from the screen to Seungcheol who resumes eating you out. Your thighs tremble and threaten to snap shut around his head; body already on the edge of another orgasm.

“I--S--Seungcheol was at, ah, w-work… and I--I couldn’t wait so--so I made him finger m-me in his work’s restroom…” You whimper, hangs tugging on Seungcheo’s hair harshly when his tongue dips into your entrance. “Fuck, I--I couldn’t stop thinking about, ngh, his--his fingers afterwards e-either… They fit my p-pussy so well…”

A garbled moan floats through the air when Seungcheol’s lips envelope your clit, sucking it into his mouth as your cry out his name.

Your back bows off of the bed, fingertips locked tight into his hair. “Fuck, Seungcheol, please… please…” You grind against him, toes curling against his back when your sensitive body gives into the pleasure and your orgasm washes over you a second time.

Cries of his name are all you can manage when your body goes rigid; head fuzzy when he starts to dip his tongue into your pussy again. He smiles against you, calmly continuing to eat you out as your orgasm continues to wash over you.

kitty_junjun: is it just me or is it nicer to hear her actually calling someones name

artist8hao: honestly i was just thinking that too

artist8hao: its more organic idk

alphagyu97: ~organic~ ok nerd lol

chwenon has donated $50

therealchan99 has donated $50

When the overstimulation starts to bite, your soft cries of Seungcheol’s name turn into hurried, jumbled noises and only parts of his name as you squirm and tug on his hair.

“Ah, ‘Cheol it’s, ngh, too--too m-much…!” He drags his tongue against your clit a few more times, relishing in the way you still grind against him. “I c-can’t cum again…” You cry, teeth chattering when he gently laps at your folds and collects your wetness on his tongue.

Seungcheol repeats this a few more times; letting you tug and pull at his hair as he licks you clean.

“Ngh, Seungcheol…”

He finally pulls away, using a hand to pry your fingers from his hair as he smiles at your tired body. “Cute.” Mumbling, he eases your shaky legs from his shoulders before he sits up; lips covered in your wetness as he grins at the camera.

Seungcheol picks out a few comments as he chuckles under his breath; already wondering what work was going to be like on Monday when he had to meet Seokmin.

universe_WZ: u look like a dude that could fuck someone up

kitty_junjun: he probably would too

chwenon: come thru the convenience store bro, I'll hook u up

xcaliburDK: should I quit? be honest

Your tired groans bring his attention back to you; eyes trained on the way your tired eyes threaten to snap shut.

“Okay, I think I need to go take care of my girlfriend now. It was nice meeting you all, finally.” Seungcheol grins, taking care of your stream before thanking your viewers and ending the stream.

He turns to you, a genuine and caring smile on his face when your hazy eyes look up at him.

“Ready for a shower?”

“Ugh, carry me, boyfriend~”

#cherrybomb!cheol #scoups smut #Seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #svt fic #seventeen fic #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups #seungcheol

405 notes · View notes

illneverrecover · 4 years

Text

the sweetest thing (M) | myg

➛pairing: Min Yoongi x reader ➛genre: florist!Yoongi, baker!Reader, florist AU, baker AU, enemies to lovers, humor, smut. ➛word count: 4799 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: not too many, this is pretty sweet & soft. Heavy petting, cursing, making out, neck kissing, biting/marking, icing used in a dirty manner, implied sex, mild dirty talk, bad puns, witty banter. ➛summary: Min Yoongi was sure you moved in next door to his floral shop just to ruin him and his business. But when he needs your help, he realizes that it’s much sweeter working together then apart. ➛notes: Hehehe. My sweet little angel bb Paril requested some florist shop Yoongi E2L with baker reader, and I just had to oblige. I love writing Yoongi, he truly just is perfect for me to channel sass and sarcasm and a bit of sweetness. Thank you for commissioning me @serensama (and the kind bank of @quinnkook), I hope you enjoy this and that it’s what you were looking for! I love you tons and I’m proud to be your soulmate. 🖤 ➛song: People - AGUST D for the sweet fluff & Poison - GOT7 for the dirty dirty.

“She’s doing this on purpose.”

“No she isn’t, hyung. That doesn’t make sense.” Namjoon picks up a rose, twirling it in inspection. “Does she even know you exist?”

Yoongi scoffs then, eyes darting from the arrangement in front of him to glare at Namjoon. “Of course she knows I exist. Our shops share a wall.”

Instead of replying, Namjoon rolls his eyes before refocusing, carefully watching the stem as his hand slides the knife down it to remove any thorns. Yoongi accepts his silence as defeat, puffing his chest. “So, like I was saying - she’s doing this on purpose, and she’s going to bleed me dry.”

The door swings open then, Hoseok and Jungkook both moving to the workstations with arms full of supplies, the latter’s eyes wide as he picks up on the conversation.

“Wait! Are you talking about Y/N noona?”

“Yes, and how she’s killing business-”

“Isn’t she just the coolest?!” Jungkook interrupts, beaming over at Yoongi. “Have you seen the designs for her flower cookies? And how she’s selling twelve of them in a pack and calling them ‘coo-quets’? Get it? Like instead of-”

“Bouquets, yes Jungkook, I get the pun.” Yoongi mutters dryly, setting the finished arrangement in it’s vase and sliding it to the side. Hoseok is laughing, so hard in fact that he misses Yoongi picking up a roll of tape until it beams him in the head.

“Hey! What was that for!” rubbing his crown, he glares at the florist before reluctantly picking up the tape, fixing the customer label to the side of the vase before moving it over to the fridge. “Don’t be violent with me just because you have the hots for the pretty baker next door.”

Yoongi sputters, hand slapping the top of the table. “I do not have the hots for-”

“Yeah yeah, we know, you definitely aren’t into Y/N, at all,” Namjoon deadpans, reaching into the box for his next rose to dethorn. “You don’t find her attractive, you didn’t stalk her and pretend to be a customer just so you could see inside her business, absolutely nothing to see here.”

“Your sarcasm is noted and also not appreciated,” Yoongi sniffs, before turning away from the taller man all together. “All I’m saying is, ever since she moved into that building, she’s caused issues. And now this is how she decides to promote for the Spring Blossom festival? It feels like an attack.”

“But hyung, it’s called the ‘Spring Blossom Festival’, I think leaning towards flowers would be kind of an obvious choice, right?” Jungkook prompts, head tilting in naive innocence.

Yoongi sighs heavily, head dropping to his chest, and wonders not for the first time why he thought hiring his friends to work with him was a good idea.

Maybe Jungkook had a point; maybe they all did. But that wasn’t enough to convince Yoongi that your motives were all sincere in nature. He was telling the truth when he said that ever since you had moved in next door, things had gone haywire for his small, locally loved floral shop.

He had only been in the space for about a year, but the street it was on had picked up in popularity with a new pub and restaurant concept on the corner, and a local farmers market moving in on the weekends. Quickly, his little business grew, people coming to him when seeking unique arrangements that were both beautiful and affordable. As demand increased, so did the need to hire more hands, and his friends had been enthusiastic to join his payroll.

For the most part, things had been smooth sailing.Training the others had been relatively easy, and what shortcomings they had, he was able to find a new strength they each brought to the business. He was comfortable, thriving, going to bed with a full belly and fat wallet, and it’s all he could ask for.

Until you.

Yoongi didn’t even see you until after you had already bought and renovated the building next door, the sign for your bakery going up and accenting the coral pink of the painted brick perfectly. He had thought it was cute; how bright and cheery your shop looked, how you were always dressed in flattering sundresses and heels, despite spending your days in a kitchen baking. He walked past your place daily to get to his own, and had found himself curious about what you were like, how good your food was, how successful you’d be.

He figured the aesthetic alone would bring in some customers, if not the increased foot traffic the farmers market brought in, and he wasn’t wrong. Your soft opening had gone well, a small line forming outside the building to Yoongi’s amusement. Word of mouth worked like a charm in your neighborhood, and a steady flow of regulars would greet him on his trek into work each morning at sunrise as they awaited their breakfast pastry and hot cup of coffee.

While this was great for you, it wasn’t so good for him. Your customers would always line up in the direction where they would block his window, meaning people walking by couldn’t get a glimpse at the creations he had displayed in the windows. Not to mention the littering - flurries of light brown napkins with your logo stamped in the middle usually lining the street in front of the shops, seemingly taunting him.

And then, the festival came. The Spring Blossom Festival, to be exact.

It was clever, he’d admit that much. The word play of ‘cookie’ and ‘bouquet’, the different color options of the edible flowers painstakingly drawn onto perfectly baked sugar cookies. You had really put thought and effort into the design, and he wasn’t surprised that it seemed to be a hit, dominating the first several days of the festival.

But that didn’t mean he liked it.

He watched helplessly as his sales dipped, as customers that would’ve wanted the real thing instead switched it up for prettily decorated consumable flowers, all cooing and preening over the treats in their matching boxes.

Yoongi had to retaliate. What else was there for him to do?

After watching you hang neon pink flyers up around the street, he had made some as well, deciding he’d place them conveniently directly over your own. Matching the paper to yours had been Namjoon's suggestion, and Yoongi had thought it was genius. That seemed to bring in a few more customers, but the lull still remained, his till and bank account making it painfully apparent.

It had been Jungkook's idea to photo bomb some of your promotional pictures when he spotted you posing in front of the shop, pristine desserts in hand and a floral dress on to match. Yoongi had shook his head but ultimately agreed, handing him one of his best designed bouquets and nudging him towards your bakery. Trying to make it look natural, he strolled back and forth in the background, making sure the flowers in his hand were always towards the camera, that he looked as if he was enjoying the festival as a patron. After about the fifth pass through, the boxy lipped young man taking your pictures had scowled, shouting after him to get out of the way. You had laughed, invited Jungkook to talk with you, even posted one of the pictures with him in it on your Instagram like it hadn’t phased you at all.

Now, here he was with only two more days left of the festival - a time that he should be making double - and with nothing more to show for it. Pre-made and custom bouquets lined the shop windows, hoping to entice anyone passing by, but most remained untouched and without a home to go to.

He was desperate.

"Why don't you just go talk to her?" Hoseok interjects, an eyebrow raised. "Maybe you can explain what's happening, see if she'd be willing to help out or team up or something."

Scoffing loudly, Yoongi kicks at the ground. "Team up? You think I want to team up with her? This is a serious business I run here, you know."

Hoseok gives Namjoon a passing glance over the blonde's head, not that he notices, too stuck inside his thoughts. It's Jungkook's loud voice that breaks the silence once more.

"Y/N noona is really nice, you know. And her cookies are so yummy, I bet she would love to help us!"

"You've tried her cookies, Jungkook?!" Yoongi’s voice raises, incredulous. "This is a sudden yet inevitable betrayal, you know. It really be your own friends."

"Seriously, Yoongi. You think she's cute anyway. Might as well go over under the pretense of business and at least see if you can score her number." Namjoon deadpanned, dropping his knife and making sure to show him every ounce of pleading desperation on his face.

Yoongi ponders for a beat or two, pretending to mull it over all the while recognizing that it couldn't hurt anything to go chat with his new neighbor, introduce himself. Who knows, maybe there was a deal to be made?

You thought he was so cute, the grumpy little florist next door.

His mouth was perpetually in a pout, bottom lip upturned enough that it made him look like he was always inspecting, always exasperated. His eyes were sharp, but not in a judgmental way - more like in the way where you knew nothing went past his scrutinizing gaze, and they were offset by the soft white blonde of his hair, in the refined silver hoops that lined his ears.

Your neighbor Yoongi was a walking contradiction, and you couldn’t help but to be charmed by him.

You had heard rumors about him, heard people's worries of you moving into the building next to his very popular floral shop, but you didn't pay them any mind. You had yet to meet someone that you couldn't make a friend, and if he was impervious to your charms, he definitely wouldn't be able to deny your best coworker, Taehyung, and his infectious personality.

But despite your attempts, you always seemed to miss him, unable to properly introduce yourself when he bustled by during the morning rush, or when you were cleaning up shop. It didn't stop you from observing, from watching the way he eyed your building, the way he'd upturn his lip at the line forming outside the door at daybreak.

He seemed so easily ruffled, so annoyed but in this endearing way, and you couldn't help but want to get to know him, to see if you could get him to open up.

Especially once he started his attempts at sabotage.

They had been subtle at first - the flyer trick something you wouldn't have noticed if it hadn't been for Jin, who made sure to check and replace any torn advertisements at the end of each day. The designs had looked so similar that you didn't even double take until the elder had pointed out the word change, how the name of Yoongi's business adorned the top of the page. Jin's eyes were ablaze, but you had just laughed, instructing him to leave the ones he found alone.

But it made you more curious, further intrigued by your flower selling neighbor who took such lengths to garner business, and you couldn't help but want to see what he did next.

It had been Taehyung that grumbled about some tall dark haired boy ruining all your promotional shots, though he had smirked the whole time he showed you the images you ended up with. You recognized that he was a worker at the florist next door almost immediately, the immaculate arrangement he carried carefully in his hands striking your intuition further.

Finally, Taehyung had shouted at him, and you called the boy over to introduce himself despite his red cheeks and ducking gaze. You learned his name was Jungkook and that he was indeed a coworker and friend of Yoongi’s, and that he was just trying to help, though he wouldn't go into much more detail after that. You had chatted with him briefly, offering him a cookie for his troubles, and promised him that you weren’t mad about his attempts at photobombing.

And you were telling the truth - you really couldn't be annoyed at these attempts to thwart your advertising, instead laughing at each new picture, making sure you picked one where the bouquet was clearly visible behind you as you held an open box of 'coo-quets'.

It isn't hatred, you don't think, that drives your neighbor to do this, but you aren't quite sure where to go from here. He still hadn't introduced himself, and with how busy things were during the festival, you hadn't found the time to do the same either, working long hours to keep afloat with your orders and walk-ins. You wanted to ask him why he was so annoyed with you, what he had against your little bakery, but you told yourself there would be time for that later when the heat died down.

Not to mention, Taehyung had been chomping at the bit for an excuse to go introduce himself.

"Y/N," he whined, dragging the last syllable of your name out into an obnoxious tune. "I just want to go make friends! Why won't you let me?"

"Because someone needs to run the register for these customers, Tae. Jin and I are elbow deep in cookie dough, and Jimin can't run both sides of the counter himself."

The tall man sulks, bottom lip jutting out as his caramel hair flops into his face. "You have a point, I guess. But once the festival is done, I'm going to go introduce myself and invite them over for coffee."

You smile at him then, eyeing him from the corner of your vision as your hands continue to delicately trace colored icing on the cookies in front of you. "That sounds like a deal, Tae."

"Oh! Me too though!" Jimin shouts, turning from the counter to glance into the kitchen of your shop. Normally you'd have the doors to the kitchen closed, but with the day about to start, it made it easier to prop them open while you ran back and forth between the two stations. "I want to go say hi too. They look like really cool guys!"

I'd have to agree, you thought to yourself, picturing the sharp eyed man in your mind, but you stay silent.

To say you were startled when you heard a knock at the back door would be an understatement, even more so when you saw who it was - Yoongi, the pouting florist, blonde hair flopped into his face. He was wearing a fluffy white sweater, a dark green apron tied around his neck and waist, and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, like he had been prepping for hours - much like you.

With a single look, you shooed the other men out of the kitchen to the front, opening the door to your guest.

"Well hey! You must be Yoongi, I'm-"

"Y/N."

"Oh, I didn't know you knew who I was!" you smile warmly, gesturing for him to step into the kitchen.

"Well, I had seen you move in, of course. Plus, Jungkook hasn't shut up since he met you," he mutters, shaking his hair out of his face as he took several steps inside. "He's like a stray cat, you know. Once you feed him, he's your friend for life."

That made you laugh, a hand rising to cover your mouth, and you couldn’t help the smirk that follows. "Well, he was too cute not to feed. Is that why you're here? Are you another stray who would like to be fed?"

Yoongi’s cheeks flush then, a dusty red that you think would look perfect in the petals of a rose, and you promise yourself to try to recreate it in frosting later.

“Ha, that’s funny,” he clears his throat, hand coming to rub at the back of his neck. “Actually, I was coming to talk to you to see if we could make an arrangement, you know - as one business owner to another.”

“Is that so?” you raise a brow, hands resting at your hips. “And what kind of deal would that be?”

You're surprised at how honest Yoongi is when he explains his situation, lays his hardships bare before you right there in the stuffy heat of your kitchen. He does manage to at least look a little embarrassed when he admits what he did in order to ramp up business, and you can’t stop your heart from softening as he finishes his request, wringing his hands as he looks at you expectantly.

“So, what you’re saying is - you want to work together, make something that the festival goers will love but will help both of our shops - is that right?”

He stands tall then, shoulders rolling back as his gaze pierces through your own. “That’s right. Think of it as a ‘I’ll scratch your back if you scratch mine’ type of deal.”

“Is this another cat analogy?”

Yoongi groans, and you giggle at the roll of his eyes.

“I already regret this.”

Stepping closer, you peer up at the florist, watching the way his eyes widen at your proximity. “No, you don’t. And technically I think I’m doing all the scratching here, but that’s okay. I think we could make a good team, Min Yoongi.”

The event is crowded, more so than Yoongi could have ever imagined.

The tables he and you had placed in front of both buildings were stuffed with goods, the heads of your coworkers ducking back inside each entrance to refill them when they got low. Customers were milling about; some taking in the offerings, others lining up in wait to purchase, and the sheer number of people had Yoongi grinning widely.

It was your idea, of course - to offer up a half dozen flowers with a half dozen of cookies, the perfect set. That isn’t to say Yoongi didn’t help; the concept of decorating the tables and dressing formally to stand out being his own, as well as offering to match the flowers and cookies to each other. The red roses and pair set cookies were flying off the shelves fast, but so were the purple calla lilies and pink tulips, which made him smile.

You had been more enthusiastic with the plan, gladly altering the designs of your ‘coo-quets’ to match, and it was clearly a smash hit. Yoongi thought back to how easily it had been to talk to you, to be honest, to spill his guts - how quickly you were willing to help, how natural it had been to form a plan, to laugh with you, and he felt his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Yoongi was thrilled with the sales and popularity, of course, but found himself distracted despite the success. He was happy to see his employees grinning and getting along with your own, glad to see the till fill knowing that he’d be able to pay everyone on time, but more than anything, he was ecstatic to see you smile, to see you shine in the sunset pink summer dress that was brushing the tops of your knees.

He himself had donned some light grey dress pants with a white button down, the sleeves carefully rolled to expose his forearms, jacket long forgotten in the heat of the outdoors. You had beamed at him when he first arrived, nodding approvingly at his attire, and he couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his heart at your approval.

And now as the day wore on, every time his elbow knocked into yours, your bodies stepping and swaying as you worked, Yoongi felt a heat build; a sizzling lick of electricity that was sparking between the two of you that he couldn’t ignore.

“You know,” he leans in, mouth inches from your ear as you grin widely at a customer. “I think we do make a pretty good team, Y/N.”

He relishes in the way your skin warms, in the way he watches your cheeks blush so prettily at his words, and feels hopefulness tighten his chest.

“We do, Min Yoongi, especially now that you aren’t actively trying to ruin me.” You grit between frozen teeth, your smile unwavering until the patron is out of hearing range.

“Hey, I didn’t try to ruin anything-”

“Okay, how about ‘mildly inconvenience’ then?”

Chuckling, he raises an arm to rub at the back of his neck, and you follow the lines in his arm as he does so, watching the rippling of muscles beneath the cuff of his rolled up sleeve with interest.

“I guess that’s fair.”

It was amazing how well things turned out, how fast the day had blown by. Jin had slaved away in the kitchen making sure that there were enough baked goods for everyone, Jimin and Taehyung teaming up with Jungkook and Hoseok from the florist shop to run items back and forth and greet customers.

But it was Yoongi who had stolen the air from your lungs and any sense you had left rattling in your head.

You could see now why his business had flourished before you arrived, why the customers continued to return to him when they needed their next arrangement. He was such a good and intent listener, his eyes sharp and focused on whomever was speaking to him. Even in the case of the event, where the flowers were pre-arranged, he still listened, shook and held the hand of each buyer as they spoke, fawning over his flowers.

It was evident he was passionate about his business, which made the fact that he had been willing to do whatever it took - including partnering up with you - even more admirable.

The sun was going down by the time things seemed to slow, your hands aching from the intricate icing work and feet throbbing from running around in heels. It seemed that everyone had satisfied smiles of hard work etched on their faces, and pleasant adoration inflated your gut at the sight, especially when you landed on Yoongi.

The edges of his mouth had finally relaxed, his eyes creasing into half moons more and more as he laughed, stress leaving his body. It was a beautiful sight, if you could admit such a thing.

When the final customer waved goodbye, heading down to the main street for the firework finale of the festival, you left the giddy boys out front to begin cleaning, bones aching at the prospect of all the dishes that needed to be done, but not wanting to drag out the pain any longer than necessary.

“Need some help?” Yoongi was posed in the doorway, arm pressing against the jam, one leg crossed over the other, as if it was normal for him to be effortlessly handsome in sweaty bakery kitchens.

“That would be great,” you smirk, tilting your head. “I wash, you dry?”

And so that’s how you find yourself alone with Yoongi, sweat dotting his hairline as he gives you side glances and small talk over drying mixing bowls. You talk about everything and nothing, conversation flowing freely, and you feel drunk on his proximity, on the way he talks with his hands, the way his voice pitches when he laughs. His white button down is transparent in the spots where water had hit, and even the hint of a peak of his skin made you feel a bit dizzy.

“Thank you for helping me with all of this, by the way. It would have taken hours to do by myself.”

“It’s no big deal. Plus, I’m sure one of those guys out there would’ve came back if you batted your lashes,” he leers, nodding to indicate the young men of both businesses that were currently playing around out front. “Especially Jungkook. He’s been all ‘Y/N noona this, Y/N noona that’ ever since he met you.”

Handing him a dish, you look up at him through your lashes, blinking coquettishly. “Well, can you blame him? I mean, just look at me. All this and I can cook? I’m the full package.”

You were joking; a teasing lilt to your voice as you refocused on the task at hand, but you could feel the intensity of his stare heating you thoroughly, forcing you to meet his eyes once more.

“You really are,” he murmurs, voice low but clear, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You’re funny and talented and so smart that it’s kind of intimidating,” he looks back at the pot in his hand, drying it thoroughly before setting it aside. “But you’re also kind hearted, and willing to listen and help those in need, even when you barely know them.”

He turns then, stepping closer until his breath is fanning across your cheek, his arms caging you to the sink as you turn to face him fully.

“Not to mention, you’re more beautiful than any flower I’ve ever seen.”

Dropping your head to stifle the giggles, you hear him wince loudly.

“That was pretty cheesy, huh?”

Nodding, you meet his eyes once more. “It was, but I have a few baking puns that will make you cringe.”

“Hit me with one.”

Raising on your toes, you lean into him, tentatively placing a palm on his chest. “Is that a baguette in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

His shoulders start shaking before he lets out a loud laugh, smile widening to show his teeth in a way that made your heart flip. Catching his breath, he sighs, leaning to rest his forehead against yours.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Wanna find out?”

Kissing Min Yoongi was a whirlwind, a focused intensity pressed in a powerful dance of his mouth on yours. Your lips answered in kind effortlessly, needing no prompting to follow his lead, to pull his bottom lip between your teeth. Electricity sparks at the base of your skull with each touch of his pout, each lick of his tongue into your mouth, and you feel your knees threaten to give out as he cradles your jaw in his hand, holding you in place.

You aren’t sure when your hands had tangled in his hair, or when he had lifted you to straddle his waist, but you found yourself moving, his body twisting to place you on the cool metal surface of your work space. Hissing as the chill bit into your bare legs, you seek the warmth of his mouth harder, legs wrapping around his form to tug him closer to you, to grind your center against him.

He’s hard, impossibly hard, and he’s whispering all the things he wants to do to you in the shell of your ear, promising all the things he’ll make you feel with his tongue, his cock. You pull him back to your mouth, kissing him deeper, gasping when he dips his finger in the open icing container on the table, dragging it from the edge of your lips down to your chest.

He trails down your throat, sucking and nipping a marked path to your collarbone, licking the frosting off as he goes - as if it was the sweetest thing - until he reaches your breasts, cupping them. As you pant out groans of his name, you can’t help but think you’re glad that it’s Yoongi who’s hiking your dress up around your waist, that he is the first man to help you defile your quaint bakery’s kitchen, filling it with moans.

It isn’t until you stumble out just shy of an hour later hand in hand with Yoongi, smelling of sex with mussed hair and lips swollen, that you remember your coworkers - and that little window that shows the spacious floor plan of said kitchen.

Taehyung is shaking his head, tsking quietly with his arm draped around Jungkook. “Shame on you, Y/N. Poor Kookie here was just trying to bring the tables inside to be helpful, and instead he got traumatized.”

Namjoon scoffs then, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t realize ‘getting a boner’ was now considered trauma.”

“Hey!” Jungkook yells, eyes darting between you and Yoongi. “You said you wouldn’t tell!”

Cheeks flushing, you stifle a giggle once more, looking over to the blonde man whose fingers were still intertwined tightly with your own. Instead of embarrassment, or concern, you just feel a giddy flush of joy as you lean into him.

Yoongi sighs, exasperated, free palm rising to rub at the back of his neck. “Remind me again why I don’t fire them?”

“Because you love them. And, they work for cheap.”

Chuckling, he turns towards you, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “I always knew I liked you.”

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emersonfreepress · 3 years

Note

ok ok in the spirit of community, how would the ros fair in a paintball war?

(referring to this ask! like the zombie au post this ended up making me think a lot 😅)

ohh... interesting, interesting... p sure the only paintball wars i’ve really seen were the ones featured in The League, Peep Show, and Community... but let me wrack my lil head...

ok, i ended up coming at this from multiple angles like the zombie au post 😅 always so much to consider in battle environments! and in the spirit of community, I'll stick with the individual player elimination style paintball match. in the woods with other e prep seniors. last one standing wins bragging rights

Gabe

Shooting skill | 6/10 - Experience with shooting and practice with Kile ofc

Stealthiness | 8/10 - He's done a fair amount of sneaking around during his after school activities, is super observant (or just paranoid lol), and naturally light on his feet. Good luck ambushing him.

Strategy | 8/10 - Strike deals. Do favors. Form alliances. Shoot 'em in the back once they’ve outlived their usefulness. ...What? It’s just paintball.

How does he win? | Graciously. Gabe likes winning, and especially via strategic manipulation, so it puts a smile on his face. And he's in a good mood so he treats a bunch of you to ice cream or smth 👀

How does he lose? | Slumps in frustration at being outwitted or taken off-guard, sulks about it for a little while. He's not that sore of a loser but needs time to lick his wounds and stop thinking of the different choices he could have made.

Kile

Shooting | 9 - The most accurate shooter of the cast and easily one of the best shots at E Prep. Lots of practice + talent

Stealth | 10 - They're stupid good at climbing trees and 100% consider that a valid method of ambushing their classmates. People start having flashbacks to 3rd and 4th grade recess and P.E. Scanning the trees. They just start taking people out with such efficiency it quickly starts ruining the game 😂

Strategy | 0? 10?? - “...Strategy? You just stay out of sight and kill 'em all, right?” (immediately scolded by Gabe for word choice 🙄) They really do mainly stay out of sight and pick people off with max stealth, like 😆 they'd be such a terror, people would need to take them out early for anyone else to stand a chance! They spend a lot of the game staking out the most frequented paths in the area and taking out groups quickly, all at once. Then they'll get around to stalking and picking people off one by one. The real fun...

Winner type | Stoic. Likes winning combat but the stakes were non-existent, so... the win is meaningless! this just infuriates the losers more 😅 such disrespect

Loser type | Sucks their teeth and tosses their paintball gun to the ground. "Y'all suck." (they're over it five mins later tho lol)

Jack

Shooting | 3 - This is nothing like shooting light guns... ☹️

Stealth | 5 - Not just due to his size making him an easier target, but homeboy is liable to get distracted by a cute squirrel or some pretty flowers 😂 He's not great at keeping his voice down either so good conversation would make him easy to seek out. He's just out here enjoying a beautiful day 😅

Strategy | 7 - All that movie-watching (and DMing) make him a valuable creative mind for problem-solving, but he needs a cooperative team to be effective. Rescued and recruited by Rupan/Rohan early on in the game ^ ^

Winner type | Disbelief! And everyone’s content and satisfied with him winning. Except Vivian/Vincent, that jealous fool

Loser type | Doesn't mind losing at all! He just hopes he was a good teammate and was glad to have fun ☺️

Jessie

Shooting | 7 - Comes from a family of hunters, girly knows how to shoot.

Stealth | 6 - Familiar enough with woods and stalking prey to be capable of sneaking around. Having too much fun to not giggle and get overly invested in the developing plot of the game. Even more easily distracted by critters and flora than Jack 😅

Strategy | 5 - Oh, she's just here to have fun. She'll go with whatever the person she's teaming up with decides, but can adapt easily enough.

Winner type | Surprised... then elated! Bouncing and happy and it's completely contagious. No hard feelings about a single thing. Convinces Heidi to invite people to the Emerson Estate—it's a hot day and they have a nice pool

Loser type | Same as Jack! Congratulates the winner with a hug because she's sweet like that 🧁

Rain

Shooting | 2 - This... thing is so cumbersome. And ugly. At least it shoots pretty colors.

Stealth | 7 - Small and used to sneaking around different environments and seeking out hiding spots. Their height and frame makes them harder to spot too.

Strategy | 4 - Hide!!! They’re not getting assaulted with paint and pellets!! Especially not after managing to make this ugly jumpsuit look cute?? Waiting it out is perfectly legitimate. Might share snacks if you decide to join them in hiding 😆

Winner type | Falls asleep in an unexpectedly cozy hiding spot and emerges as everyone thought they’d declared the winner. I imagine R and others yelling at them to get their gun while the original winner scrambles to get theirs, just for Rain to win by pure luck of the draw. Won’t stop them bragging about it, though! (I want this spurned runner-up to be Vi bc ofc)

Loser type | "So I can stop holding this thing?" Yawn. "I'm so hungry and bored, we've been at this for hours..."

Rupan/Rohan

Shooting | 4 - Ah, shit. These don't shoot anything like light guns.

Stealth | 7 - They sneak out and around town a lot 😂 They just force themself to be careful about how loud grass and bushes are.

Strategy | 7 - They’re treating this shit like an action movie and banding together a ragtag team of misfits to take down the strongest alliances and players. Savvy enough to reject Gabe’s and Curt’s offers to join, not opposed to strategic backstabs. They're very clearly just as focused on having fun as they are on winning—and playing Predator, which honestly works with Kile runnin around. They even brought war paint and borrowed a tactical vest. Is it mostly packed with snacks and weed? Maybe. Does it prove useful for negotiations? Hell yeah.

Winner type | Raucous celebration, just pure joy and adrenaline ☺️ Celebrates with their team, brags a bit, rubs it into Vi's face, makes fun of Curt, the usual. Then invites allies out to get pizza because it's the obvious next step

Loser type | Mostly disappointed they can't keep playing. They're a little sore about being left out of the action, but soon just start chatting with other marked players about how the game went for them. Plenty entertaining on its own, they want all the details

Vivian/Vincent

Shooting | 5 - They've got a little bit of shooting experience.

Stealth | 4 - They're overly sensitive and hate being in nature. Their skin is sticky, they keep feeling bugs everywhere, they've gotten dirt all over their pants, it's so hot, they keep WALKING into SPIDERWEBS, [flails about, screaming furiously]

Strategy | 8 - They have good ideas, they're just difficult to execute alone, especially since they're getting sunburnt and getting crankier and can't stop swatting at insects 😅 they're one of the first people to figure out that someone's taking out groups from the trees, so they stay solo and try to find a single person to team up with. Really what they need is someone who's a better shot but easy to boss around. They can probably just owe them for an in-school favor...

Winner type | Barely suppressed gloating. Vi somehow finds a way to be an obnoxious winner almost entirely by the look on their face. Once they're in a smaller group, they're passionately discussing the details of the game and happily boasting about their triumphs (while glossing over all of the whining and and slip-ups lol)

Loser type | Booo, such a sore loser. (Especially in the scenario where Rain wins 🤣) If they're outsmarted or outgunned in a clear, transparent way they'll growl and stomp off, then quietly glower and sulk for way too long. If they're double-crossed or beaten in an underhanded way oh lord —they're fighting it to the end. R can't help but get involved either way, reminding them it was a damn game with literally no prize. "C'mon, Vi, chill. You want ice cream? Let's get you ice cream."

Heidi

Shooting | 6 - Some shooting experience.

Stealth | 8 - She's very aware of her surroundings and her body. Perceptive yet quiet. Tactical. All residual traits picked up from her many activities over the years.

Strategy | 9 - Most likely to outsmart everyone. The first one to figure out groups are being targeted from the trees. Goes it alone and only open to trading (unless she sees Curt with Jess in which case she puts a quick pin in her plans to rescue her 😂). She also immediately figures out it's Kile, because ofc it is. Keeps close tabs on what groups are doing, knowing that eventually Kile will come down to ground level to pick off individuals and couples. Predator becomes prey 👀

Winner type | Proud but not boasting. She doesn't need to be. Victory looks good on her, natural and fitting. Thanks everyone for a good game then takes the girls for a long ride in the Cadillac 😎 top down on a bright day, baby

Loser type | Damn. She should have won this. Maybe if she'd... She probably could have... Then she snaps out of it, roped in by the celebratory mood of congratulating the winner. She's over any feelings of frustration or regret after getting to discuss the match with the person that took her out/the winner and there's no hard feelings. If anything this was fun as hell, it should be an annual thing. ☺️

Curt

Shooting | 8 - Some shooting experience and a natural knack for it. Good reflexes.

Stealth | 8 - Curt likes to say he gets along with the woods around these parts. Sneaking around is second nature to him. Really good hearing too. He's an easy target if you manage to seduce him though, having no issue leaving himself vulnerable if it means that kind of fun 😂

Strategy | 7 - Honestly, he's most interested in seeing how long he can get away with using charm and seduction for both protection and double-crossing 😂 Eventually becomes persona non grata and gets all of his ammo stolen by a vengeful mark, barely getting away in the process. Since that jig is up, he finally starts thinking a win might be nice... and so he teams up with the only competent player who would never betray him and also inspires the least vitriol in others: Jessie. What? Is his back-up plan using her as a human shield? No! 😚 Of course not! 👉👈

Winner type | Insufferable and gloating. Rubs it in a lot of people's faces, specifically Heidi, Rupan/Rohan, and any participants who genuinely don't like him. Brags to Gabe (who is completely disinterested in gassing him up 😂), then promises he'll make things up to Jessie (who didn't mind and had fun lol). Then celebrates by asking whoever he's flirting with these days for a quick date—and a ride in the Ferrari. Makes a scene pulling out of the parking lot. Ass.

Loser type | Doesn't care one bit as long as he had fun! And he always finds a way to have fun, it's why he's so carefree 😅

#lovely anon #answered #ROs #scenarios #someone pls confirm that kile is using paint pellets thx #I can totally see myself writing this out as a an actual short story 😂#maybe as a kofi reward whenever I get that set up 🤞🏾#I don't think any of these are incomplete...

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actual-fucking-clown · 3 years

Text

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this.

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them.

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems.

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered.

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough.

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon.

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown.

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile.

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless.

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke.

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent. A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too.

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

#bnha x reader #mha xreader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa #my first fic #mha #bnha

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savnofilter · 3 years

Text

Another Year Together

Todoroki x 『GN』Reader

↬ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(s): intoxication, mentions of partying too hard, injuries and cleaning said injuries, crack (?), fluff.

↬ᴡᴄ: 2.5k [10 mins].

↬ᴀ/ɴ: ahhhh i was bummed that i dont have any sfw shouto reqs *cough cough* send some- *cough cough* anyways so i made up a scenario of my own! i have more fluff ideas i'd love to put out but this may be the birthday fic or i'll post something else tonight if i can~ every time there needs to be a party, just know either mina or kaminari threw it. also its a little rushed because i wanted to get this out tonight and this is the longest sfw piece ive ever written. ;; pffft hopefully you all will love this as much as i loved writing it, happy birthday shouto!

"Stay still." Shouto muttered to you as you squirmed away from the harsh sting the disinfectant alcohol caused your bruised skin.

"Mmmnhmm... M' sorry." You utter haltingly, your leg jerking once more from the sudden sensation. You look up at him with puppy eyes, guilt-stricken as you have already broken your promise.

He stared at you for a few seconds before his gaze softened as you stuck out your bottom lip with a sorrowful look on your face. As he smooths the cloth over your exposed thighs, he softly sighs under his breath, expertly concealing the roll of his eyes. Todoroki was relieved that your reflexes were still in shape, the abuse of the liquor not interfering much with your cognition... at least not too much.

You two shared the same birthday. He had no idea that celebrating your big day of turning 21 would've been so hectic. As many things between you and Todorooki, you guys took today as a competition. The day started with you both trying to one-up each other since Todoroki’s lucky day was yours as well. First, your day with a breakfast made by him -- with the assistance of Bakugo of course. You couldn’t help the warm swell in your heart at how much effort he had put into it but it wouldn’t top you! While you two interned at the same agency it was pretty easy to surprise him with a big B-Day lunch and an obnoxious bouquet.

“This is a little too much…”

“There is no such thing as too much for you, Sho.”

Truthfully, he felt that way because he wanted to wow you as well. He was glad that today was a calm day concerning his patrol watch, giving him time to map up his day today and think about all the other miscellaneous thoughts that roamed his head. The painting he had saved for this momentous day sat in the back of his head as he patrolled the streets, the small accessory along with it sitting next to the rest of his pee-pee pouches making him grow nervous. I had kept the small item with him in fear of losing it, the last thing he needed was it to go missing under his watch.

You on the other handheld no qualms about goofing off for the day. Now, you weren’t entirely wasting away the day, you just simply knew how to let loose. With the great news you’d be staying in the office you had more than enough time to help plan and finalize Todoroki’s surprise birthday party. You bit your lip as you checked in with your longtime friend, Kaminari, to host the momentous occasion. Your mind was mostly occupied with the thought of the party and the small but significant present that you had in your desk draw. You and Todoroki had the same mind, the only thing setting you apart is you somehow being more… airhead than him.

Impossible, right? Not at all. That’s how it explains why he was busy cleaning up your injuries.

After being sent home early you had taken him out to lunch for some soba and well, boba as a great lunch treat — simple enough. You both were full upon going back home, giving you two a few hours to snuggle up and nap to rejoice with the sleep you two had lost from over the time having part-time heroes. Holding back the excited news of the party was hard to do, the first thing you did when you woke up was jump up and usher him to get up as well.

“What -- why??” Shouto glared as he was forced to sit up, rubbing his eyes with the free hand that you didn’t use to pull him up.

“C’mooonn! I just have one more thing to show you for today!” You beam brightly. Your facial expression was as bright as ever like you hadn’t just slept for 4 hours before that. Everything in his body wanted to resist but he couldn’t as he wouldn’t bring himself to. It took but only an hour for the both of you to get ready, sending Kaminari a quick text to make sure that everything was set for sure.

“Honey, I know this might sound a little odd but I need you to put this on.” You hand him the blindfold once you find him dressed and ready. You couldn’t help but grin at his confused face when he stares at the piece of fabric.

“I thought you said we were going out?” He asks mildly confused, taking it and putting it on anyway.

You paused and gave yourself a moment to think about his response, your cheeks feeling hot at the insinuation. Todoroki’s small giggle makes you feel better about your flustered words, rolling your eyes annoyed when he teased you like that. “Just hold onto my hand okay?” You instruct, hand coming up to hold him as an example. He nods his head as he follows your lead, more excited than what he led on.

The trip from your apartment down to your car didn’t take too long, the assistance of helping him not trip over his shoes harder than you thought. It was hard to keep back your laugh as he fumbled here and there, the most highlight of your experience was helping him in his care (like he usually did with you) and even buckling in his seat (not something he did for you). You were practically buzzing in your seat in excitement as you took off as soon as you were ready, the journey to his place not too far from your own. You bobbed your head to the music of the radio as you vibed along with the beats, fingers tapping the steering wheel as you mumbled the lyrics to whatever song played. Had it not been winter time in Japan you would’ve had the windows down, but you had to settle with the subtle and gentle breeze of the heaters on your skin instead.

“We’re here.” You announced your arrival. You used the keycard Kaminari had given you as the entrance to his apartment complex and zoomed-in irresponsibly. It was easy finding a parking space on the higher levels conveniently the same as his home. You hopped out and helped Todoroki out from his seat and helped him to the elevator. “Promise me to have fun, okay?” The question was simple enough, but your level of fun always exceeded his.

The sentence made him turn in your direction with confusion heavy on the top of his head. You took out the key from your pocket and jiggled it into the lock. As soon as he was about to open his mouth you yoinked the blindfold off his eyes, the first thing his eyes seeing your cheerful grin and everyone popping up from their hiding places and throwing the decorations up that they held in their hands.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Todoroki was taken back from the whole thing. How many people were there, the familiar faces, the decorations, and just overall effort that was put into this. He couldn’t help but look over at you with the same adoration he normally did when you looked the other way. He was greeted by so many of his friends and mutuals, the overwhelming amount of gifts that sat on the table, and the arrangement of food and drinks that sat up in the spacious room. In the back of his head, he knew he would have to keep an eye on you, and he was right.

The group had gathered to get some cake to get it out the way, the bonus of ice cream filling your tummy with happiness. As soon as you had finished your dessert plate, you declared everyone should loosen up; since no one objected, you went straight for shots. First, it was one, two, then it was two at once, then it was some straight from Mina’s belly button. You held no restraint at your alcohol intake, taking the immature opportunity to drink to your heart’s content. While you were liberal with your amount, Todoroki decided to take in practically none. The verses of your habits are almost amusing to watch like your two contrasting but similar personalities.

Later in the night when the mayhem had started. You and a few friends decided to dance on a few more dangerous surfaces, guaranteeing the sacrifice of one of them being Kaminari’s glass table.

“Holy shit—” Mina quickly rushed to your side, the same drunken posture and smile on her face as she tried to help you up, careful not to get the same glass shards that scattered the floor. “Are you okay-?!”

“YO Y/N WILDING!” Denki tries helping you up too, the help of the duo helping you somewhat.

You stumbled to get up, the flashlight of other people’s phones making you weary. “I-I’m fine-” You managed to let out, standing as you tried to clear your head and drink the water handed towards you. Either the H2O in that cup gave you courage or you simply went crazy. “let’s go again!”

Todoroki was left speechless upon watching you continue to party on, knowing damn well he'd have to stop you soon. He wasn’t one to attend parties, and most times when he did they always ended up like this. It seemed after your fall that the knock had given you a sign to calm down at least, deciding to drink more beverages that didn’t hold liquor in it. After some time he had managed to get you in his lap, holding you as he monitored your well-being.

As much as your reckless behavior would have annoyed someone else, he found it almost endearing. Well… not really in the sense you were drinking yourself silly, but in the fact that you still had the spirit to keep up and party even after the effects of your last hour of madness. It wasn’t long till you had gotten comfortable in his arms you had successfully partied yourself to sleep. Todoroki was careful in lifting you, thanking everyone from attending before quietly slipping out from the apartment.

He took a deep breath as he somehow managed to find your car, maneuvering to get you into the car and hopping in on his side to drive you home. Todoroki made sure to drive carefully in hopes that you wouldn’t barf all over his car that you had used to get there. The drive back was much quicker than when you two had headed up since it was practically dead at night and the streets empty. He liked drives like these. A part of him was sad that you weren’t awake for it.

Your boyfriend repeated the same process when he had pulled into your apartment complex, picking up your body and bringing you up to your shared home. He was dedicated to getting you situated, prepared to take care of you as much as he needed to. That’s how he found himself tending to your scrapes and bruises right now.

“You know I’m never going to let you drink again.” Shouto teases you, smirking lightly at your sad expression.

“You’d never!” You argued back with the same teasing tone, moving to cross your arms, stifling the pain as you did so.

Todoroki snorts at your dedication to hold up the act, nodding his head as he finished cleaning up your legs. “You’re right. But don’t expect me not to monitor you from now on.”

A smile tugs at your lips at his words, uncrossing your arms. The lingering drunk feeling still played in how you thought and spoke but not managing to affect how effortless it was to talk to Shouto. You blushed when he picked up your hands, kissing the back of your hands as he spoke to you once again.

“I have a present for you.” He mutters against your skin, eyes trained on the fresh bandages before looking up at you. He wasn’t looking for an answer and he didn’t wait for one either. He hoped that you couldn’t tell that he was weary, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widened at the realization of what he held in his hand, your heart beating faster as you sat up in your chair. “Sh-Sho?”

“It’s not what you think.” He responds almost defensively. Shouto bites his lip in anticipation, fiddling with the little box. “... it’s a promise ring,” Todoroki concludes. He felt like he had to explain himself for the slightly expensive jewelry. “If you don’t want it-”

You had engulfed him in a hug, pulling him tight against you as you had started to sob. You couldn’t think of words for how happy you were. The only thing that had taken over your body was actions. You nuzzled your face into his neck once his arms wrapped around your shaking your body. His hands soothingly rubbed your back, letting you get out what you wanted. He couldn’t help but laugh when you pull away with the most love-filled face he’d ever seen you make.

“You okay?”

“I’m perfect!” You hastily wiped your face with the help of Shouto, shakily laughing once he leaned into pepper your face with kisses.

“I was afraid that I scared you,” Shouto admits. You shake your head as you grab his hands, placing his palms on your cheeks, appreciating his soft palms.

“No… your hands are really soft…” You mumble. Your mind went blank as you tried to remember the next line you were going to speak, pouting as you looked around for the answer. The shock of him handing you the ring has successfully shaken you into processing your brain a little better, the heavy impacts of your drinking still lingering on.

“Are you okay?” He asks, worried. You nod your head in affirmation.

“A kiss could cheer me up.” You give him the same puppy eyes that you used before, weaponizing your cuteness to your advantage. He slightly cringed at the thought, hesitating before leaning in and placing a soft kiss against yours. He prepared himself to taste the alcohol against his lips. He pulled away once he deemed it ready, wiping his mouth and getting the ring he kept in his hand the whole day.

“I think you owe me by wearing the ring for making me kiss you.” He huffs, slipping the ring on your finger, his heart beating at the sound of your giggle.

“Nah you love me without the ring~”

“Yes, but I’d prefer you with it on.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you, taking you into his arms once again for the night and carrying you to your room. “For now get some rest, okay?” He sat you down on the bed and got you changed out of your clothes, sneaking in a few playful kisses here and there to make you laugh. Shouto’s main focus was just to get you situated to sleep peacefully for the night.

“G’night, Sho…” You mutter to him as you got comfortable in the sheets. Although the returning soreness didn’t go away you had managed to close your eyes and get comfortable.

“Goodnight.” He watched you until you fell asleep before leaving the room to prepare for you the pain medication you’d need in the morning for your impending hangover.

You never needed the promise ring to let you know he loved you; his actions always told you so.

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honeymoonjin · 5 years

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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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