Warnings:Very mild peril and angst, tooth-rotting fluff, smut - fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, virgin!Namjoon.
For almost as long as you can remember, the tree stood opposite your apartment has been a part of your life. Countless memories have been made under the shade of its supple branches, but when its existence comes under threat, you soon discover that your favourite tree is more special to you than you ever could’ve known.
As fast as your little feet had been able to carry you, you’d run, furious; hurtling across the grass towards the group of young boys congregated around the base of your apple tree, their figures cast in shade under its far-reaching branches.
Of course, you didn’t know it was your tree back then - a tree just like any other, no dissimilar to the many others you’d ever seen - but that hadn’t kept you from watching them from your spot from way over by the swings; narrowed eyes, scowling and suspicious. Huddled together, it was obvious even to you that the curl of their shoulders meant that they must be up to no good.
Their unfamiliar presence in your park had been worrisome enough, but when one of them had drawn out a switchblade from his back pocket, waving it around in front of his friends only to then turn and gouge its sharp blade straight into the bark of the tree, you were left with no choice but to leap into action.
At six tender years old you’d marched over to that group of boys, unafraid. Being several years your senior, they were far less than intimidated by the sight of a young girl in long socks and overalls, copying a pose she’d seen her mother wear before. They hadn’t even really noticed you were there until you’d cleared your throat to demand their attention, small hands fisted on your then non-existent hips, and even then, the ring-leader had refused to acknowledge you. He was far too busy carving out a word your innocent mind did not yet recognise at such an age, tongue poking out of the corner of his lips in concentration.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you’d informed them without a hint of fear, so sure were you of your convictions. The closest boy to you (you’d seen him at school before, you’d thought. The older brother of one of the girls in your class?) had scowled hard at you, his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“Why not?” he’d snorted.
“Because,” you’d replied, matter of fact, “You’re hurting it.“
"It’s just a tree,” another boy had said with a shrug of his shoulders, his tone as entirely apathetic as his stance had been.
“But they have feelings,” you’d said emphatically, your bottom lip jutting out when the boys around you began to laugh at your expense. Their mocking was finally loud enough to pull the attention of the black-haired boy with the knife and he’d turned, blade in hand.
This right here is the most pure, amazing and soft story I have ever read. I cried from how much sweet and loving the ending was. If I have to picture what love is, this story would be one of the first things coming into my mind.
