#did it start with gigi's asks and spiral from there???

[jarondont]

WHY DOES THIS TAG EXIST???

[sammylkcho]

Hiii I love ur platonic and possessive Astro with younger!reader and that got me thinking..How about platonic and possessive Sprout with a Baby girl!reader as his sibling?? And it feels a bit silly.. but I’m allowed to be silly and you too :D!!

-✨

I like the idea, and I'd also love to get creative by imagining that baby!reader would have an appearance similar to a seed, with just one or two leaves that look like hair due to the way strawberries grow

And I took my own creative liberties when writing about Sprout, btw

Warnings/Notes: Babygirl!reader, possesive Sprout (platonic), pronuns she/her with Y/N [Reader], a bit OOC

Gardenview had never been this busy on a holiday weekend—unless there was some kind of event or pending task to be done. But this time, it was just a normal day.

Not to mention that the Toons’ Handlers rarely showed up unless it was under strict orders from Delilah or Arthur. So, naturally, all the Toons were trying to figure out what was going on or what was keeping the staff running back and forth without stopping.

Even the Mains weren’t getting any attention! And considering they were usually the Handlers' top priority, everyone was equally surprised.

"Dandy, are you sure Devan didn’t mention anything?" Poppy asked, resting her face in the palm of her hands, clearly curious and anxious to know what was happening outside.

"Ah… Poppy, I’m going to give you the same answer I gave you the last ten times: no." Dandy replied, flipping through drawings that various kids had made during their visits to Gardenview and left behind.

"Nothing bad happened, right? Delilah rarely meets with our Handlers…"

"Stop worrying that music box of yours, Boxten! I already told you everything’s going to be fine!"

Poppy tried to reassure Boxten, hoping to keep him from spiraling into an anxious, worry-filled state.

The atmosphere was starting to grow tense as everyone began coming up with their own theories and speculations about what could be happening. The fact that no one knew anything, and that it was all so sudden—even for the Mains—was far too strange.

"Uuuuh… What dumb designs, looks like a radish."

"Yeah, a really ugly and dumb radish."

"Oh man, they look so ridiculous with those little flowers around them!"

Suddenly, not-so-discreet murmurs and laughter from Gigi and Connie started echoing louder through the room, causing all the Toons to go silent just to hear what they were talking about. Not only did it spark curiosity about their conversation, but also about whatever it was they were laughing at.

Vee, who had been standing with Shelly and Sprout just moments ago, walked over to the two Toons with a deep frown, filled with suspicion over whatever they were scheming.

"Ahem. Do you two plan on showing us what you’ve got?" Vee demanded, crossing her arms as her gaze flicked between Gigi and Connie.

A brief silence settled between them as they exchanged glances, before Connie sighed and Gigi pouted slightly, reluctantly revealing the papers they had been holding.

"Let’s just say I took a little stroll through Delilah’s office while they were busy and found… this." Connie explained with a teasing lilt, barely holding back a laugh at Vee’s deepening frown upon realizing she had been snooping around in Delilah’s office.

Vee immediately started scolding Connie, yelling at her about how she shouldn’t be digging through the founders’ (their creators’) belongings, since it was strictly forbidden. Not to mention—it was also stealing. She also blamed Gigi, accusing her of plotting to rummage through Delilah and Arthur’s things while all of this was going on.

While that whole scene was unfolding, Sprout noticed a sheet of paper that Connie had set aside while reluctantly enduring Vee’s scolding. Curious, he moved closer, picking it up to examine it in more detail.

The details on the page left him completely stunned—no, more than stunned.

In the upper left corner, the name Y/N Seedly was written. Meanwhile, the center of the page was filled with designs of this Y/N, depicting a rather childlike appearance. The design closely resembled a growing plant, with its greenish tones and the tiny leaves that barely looked like hair. Below that, Delilah and Arthur’s signatures were present, along with a couple of extra notes marked as "to be added" or simply labeled as "notes" about Y/N.

“She doesn’t look any older than Toodles… She actually seems smaller than that ‘Y/N.’ I’d even say the kids who visit Gardenview are older than this one, and Gardenview accepts kids as young as five…”

Rodger’s sudden voice snapped Sprout out of his thoughts, making him aware of the growing warmth he was feeling—and the countless eyes now locked onto the paper he was holding.

“Wha- WHY ARE YOU ALL STANDING BEHIND ME?” Sprout exclaimed sharply, only just realizing the sheer number of curious Toons gathered behind and beside him, all trying to get a look at what he had in his hands.

Rodger continued mumbling possible conclusions based on the most logical explanations, but Sprout wasn’t paying attention anymore. His focus was entirely on the name written on the page.

Why did they have his last name? Were they supposed to be related in some way, or was it just a coincidence—?

“Alright, that’s enough chattering, everyone. We’ve got a new friend! But hush, okay?”

A new voice—one that was very well-known among them—rang out, immediately quieting all the murmurs and scattered conversations as the Toons turned their attention toward Devan.

Sam entered the room, cradling a small bundle wrapped in a soft red blanket with white polka dots. From the gentle rise and fall of the bundle, it was clear that he was holding someone.

Sprout was the first to step forward, moving toward his Handler to get a closer look at what he was keeping so carefully hidden. He already had a slight suspicion about what—or who—it was.

Sam knelt down to Sprout’s height, gently bringing the tiny figure closer. Nestled within the soft cotton blanket was a small being, peacefully asleep.

“Hey, looks like you finally have a family of your own,” Sam murmured, offering Sprout a soft smile. “Meet Y/N Seedly—your new sister.”

He spoke the last part in a quieter voice, knowing that Sprout didn’t like hearing his last name spoken aloud, especially in front of everyone.

“Uh… Am I holding her right?” Sprout asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he carefully adjusted his grip, unsure of how to properly carry his new little sister.

“Perfect. You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.”

Sam stood up, ready to share the news with the rest of the Toons. Meanwhile, the Mains gathered around Sprout, peeking curiously from the sides but careful not to disrupt the little moment he was having.

Sprout’s tail began wagging from side to side as he gazed down at his new sister, like something straight out of a fairy tale. That settled it—he would take very good care of her. Nothing was going to happen to her, not on his watch. He was going to be the best big brother in the entire world.

Slowly, he reached out and gently touched the tiny leaves sprouting from her head—soft, pale green, not yet fully grown. The same went for the small tail she had, barely visible and still too underdeveloped for any properly sized leaves to form.

Carefully, he pulled her closer to his chest, making sure not to wake her and disturb her dreams. That protective feeling inside him only grew stronger. He had to keep her safe. Nothing—not even the smallest harm—was going to touch his little sister.

[ch0k3herwithaseaview]

@jegulus-microfic | feb 20 shiver | words: 864

yeah, so, someone said they would like a part 2 to this so i wrote it. i don’t know if it’s any good but here it is, hope y’all like it (also sorry for all the mistakes, english still isn’t my first language)

next part 👀

“He just stayed over for dinner, Sirius. It was a ‘thank you’ for helping me with Gigi” James repeated for what felt like a hundredth time.

“Oh, I know your ‘thank yous’. Don’t try to fool me, I haven’t met you yesterday” Sirius laughed through the phone. James was surprised his best friend didn’t get mad at him for spending the evening with said friend’s brother.

He was expecting the man to throw a tantrum about it, that’s why he called Moony and asked for Sirius as soon as Regulus left his flat with the dog.

“You know, it’s kind of your fault. Why would you leave your phone to your brother? If you hadn’t done that nothing would have happened!”

“So, something did happen?” James heard the cheeky smile even though he couldn't see it and simply groaned at the response he received. Sirius could be his best friend, who James loved dearly, but he could also piss him off like nobody else.

“Don’t change the subject, just- why did he have your phone? I really was terrified with the whole situation and as if it wasn’t enough I almost got a heart attack because you really didn’t have your phone and I didn’t know who got my address, and if they wouldn’t ki-“

“Okay, James, breathe” he heard from the other side. He did just that. “Now, stop spiralling. He had my phone, because I left it there on my way to the venue. He was fucking with you, you know how he is” Sirius explained calmly and James felt a little better. But then “While we’re on the topic of fucking-“

“I’m hanging up” his bestie just barked a laugh at that.

“Yeah, Reggie’s here anyways, I have to pester him now. Bye, love ya” and with that Sirius ended the call.

James breathed heavily and slumped into the couch. Excluding the Gigi incident, the evening was really nice - he and Regulus prepared the butter chicken together (using tofu instead of chicken since Reg doesn’t eat meat). They laughed at what the vet said about them not being good uncles to the dog and talked about their lives. James knew from Sirius that Regulus went to art school but still listened eagerly as the younger man talked about his latest project.

“You should come to the opening. I think you’ll like it” Regulus said midway through his dish. He also smirked when James started choking on his rice. After a moment he calmed down, whipping his face with a napkin.

“Yeah, of course, I’ll try to make it. When is it exactly?” he asked, pretending like nothing happened just seconds ago. Regulus laughed at him, sounding so very sweet again, and James tried to hide the small smile and blush that appeared on his face.

“Next Friday at 8” the black-haired man replied simply, going back to his meal. He looked so soft and peaceful sitting at the table, the older man felt a need to squish him tightly, because what the fuck - how can someone look so pretty?

With James’ internal crisis and Regulus’ quiet chewing they fell into a comfortable silence. It was new to James - usually, while eating with his parents and friends, it was very loud, everyone talking and laughing all the time. But it was nice - to just sit and enjoy a dinner together.

When they were finished Regulus took Gigi and said he’ll drop her off at Sirius’. James just thanked him again, walking the other man down the hall. When Regulus was out, he turned over his shoulder and smiled warmly.

“See you next Friday” he said and walked to the elevator. James didn’t even have a chance to reply as the younger man disappeared behind the metal door.

He took another deep breath and went to his bathroom, taking a quick shower and preparing to go to sleep. He was halfway through his skincare routine when his phone beeped. As always, he didn’t bother checking it while he’s having his alone time, but as soon as he laid his head on the pillow he opened the unread message.

Unknown

Sirius is fucking mad

Whatever he says to you - do NOT believe him

He’s delusional, I swear

It’s Regulus, by the way

James felt a pleasant shiver going down his spine. Regulus didn’t ask for his numer, but apparently took it from Sirius’ phone. Sneaky little thing he was.

James

didnt expect you to be not only a murderer but also a thief

and i know your brothers mad ive known him half my life

Reg

I’m not a thief, I’m THE thief

If I managed to steal your number maybe I’ll be able to steal some of your time ;)))

THAT MESSAGE WAS FILLED WITH SARCASM

James laughed at that.

James

yeah sure

you can steal as much of my time as you want

THAT MESSAGE WAS ABSOLUTELY NOT FILLED WITH SARCASM

The reply didn’t come right away. He could see the three dots appearing and disappearing every now and then, though. And when it finally came, James just smiled at it.

Reg

You’re being cheesy, please don’t act like that at the opening

[thecollectionsof]

leave the light on

Despite the late hour, Crystal’s bedroom was bathed in a familiar warm light. The lamp on the nightstand on Crystal’s side of her bed was turned on as low as it could go, and even though it was brighter than what Gigi could sleep with she kept it on anyway.

She knows this isn’t what Crystal meant, but she couldn’t help it.

It wasn’t her first time being alone in Crystal’s apartment, nor would it be her last. It always seemed to end up this way, with Gigi at Crystal’s apartment or Crystal at Gigi’s, even when one of them had to leave. It was just easier to return back to each other than to not, especially when it meant that they got to fall asleep in each other's arms.

Times like tonight. Crystal was going out with her friends and Gigi was at her apartment doing a puzzle, and it didn’t even occur to Gigi that this wasn’t a normal thing until Crystal was already halfway out the door.

“Leave the light on, please,” Crystal had asked as she laced up her shoes, and Gigi nodded with a hum.

“Always do, Crys,” she replied easily, leaning over to flick the switch that turned on the light closest to the door. “You’ll be back… when? Later tonight?”

Crystal stood up a bit taller than before, taking two steps closer before reaching out to stand beside where she was sitting on one of the uncomfortable chairs she had at her small kitchen table. She curled an arm around her to rest on her shoulder, squeezing it gently so she didn’t disrupt Gigi as she placed another piece in the puzzle. Gigi leaned into the touch, suddenly hit by the casual intimacy and the domesticity and the warmth of it all. “I’ll be back home by 2, I don’t wanna be out too late tonight. Promise,” she says, and Gigi can hear the smile in the soft words. She bent down to leave a kiss on the crown of her head before turning to grab her keys, which gave Gigi a moment to try and calm her racing heart.

(She said home knowing that Gigi would be there. She said home like they share it. She said home like they lived together and because she knew that Gigi would wait up to hear that she got back safe.)

“Have fun! Love you!” she said instead of any of that, smiling up at Crystal and hoping that her cheeks didn’t give away how flustered she felt.

“Love you too, I will!” 

And then Gigi was alone in Crystal's apartment, turning on her nighttime playlist and returning her focus to the puzzle, if only to stop her mind from spiraling about how much she liked Crystal. That was a spiral for another day. (And if she had been saying that for months, that’s none of anyone’s business.)

Normal, platonic friends didn’t do this, did they? Did they sit at their friend’s apartment alone like Gigi did, and did their friends buy them things to do for this specific occasion? Did friends have their own shelf of snacks in one of the cabinets, or their own tea, or their side of the bed? 

Did they know to leave the light on for when their friend came home? 

It was hours later when she decided that she had done enough work on the puzzle today, the outer edge and a few edges of shops just starting to form the bustling street depicted on the box. She padded around the house with the ease of someone who lived there, scrubbing a few dishes and putting them on the drying rack before turning out every light but one, the one by the door. 

Crystal’s room was a familiar maze for her to navigate, and she turned on the lamp on Crystal's bedside table, squinting for a second at the sudden light but adjusting to it quickly. The yellow light illuminating the room filled it with a warm glow, the kind that she associated with Crystal. Warm and familiar, calming and not what you would expect for such a busy room like this but perfect nonetheless. 

She grabbed one of Crystal’s shirts—she had her own here, but Crystal’s were more comfortable—and a pair of her sleep shorts that she kept here for times like these, slipping into them and adding her clothes to the hamper because they’d get back to her eventually. She kept her socks on, marveling at the way that Crystal always kept her apartment so cold, and layered on a quilt that Crystal had thrown over a chair just for the nights where Gigi slept over. 

And then she got into bed, and here she is. It’s almost 2am and her eyes are drooping, but she doesn’t turn off the light beside the bed, not wanting to fall asleep until she knew that Crystal made it home safe. She scrolls through Instagram, then adds some patterns and garments she likes to a Pinterest board, then goes back to Instagram, refreshing the page. Nothing new, nothing since the story Crystal had posted showing her smoking with Daya and a few others outside somewhere. 

Gigi replays it a few more times than necessary, her eyes glued to the way Crystal’s lips part for the smoke. 

That’s enough phone time for today. 

She plugs in her phone to charge (into the charger that’s plugged in on this side just for her. It’s not anyone’s business, don’t spiral about it Gigi—) and turns over, grabbing one of Crystal’s stuffed animals to hold onto and letting her eyes fall closed as she listens out for the sound of the door. 

And then she wakes up to the feeling of Crystal gently petting her hair, her weight comforting as she perches close to Gigi on the side of the bed closest to the door. She must’ve fallen asleep waiting for her, but at least now she has confirmation she’s home, even if she’s tired and not sure she’ll remember this tomorrow.

“Hi Geege, I’m home. Thanks for waiting for me,” she says quietly, and Gigi lets it sit as her sleepy brain takes in the residual smell of weed on Crystal.

“Mhm, come to bed. It’s… it's bedtime, please.” She flips over, both to face Crystal and to ensure that she’s in prime position to be cuddled when Crystal finally gets in bed. She hears Crystal huff out a laugh as her eyes fall closed again, and she feels Crystal’s weight leave the side of the bed as she gets ready for bed herself.

The light clicks as it’s turned off, and Crystal wastes no time before cuddling up to Gigi, spooning her. “Night, Geege.”

Gigi finally lets herself relax, holding a stuffed animal and being held by Crystal. “Night, Crys. Love you,” she manages to mumble, and before she knows it she’s out, the feeling of a fleeting kiss on her shoulder beckoning her into a peaceful sleep. 

[softlyjiminie]

nine months from now | m.y.g

⇢ pairing(s): boss!min yoongi x reader, mentions of vmin + namjin.

⇢ word count: 16.5K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff, un-expecting parents!au, parents!au.

⇢ summary: his was not supposed to happen. this was never in the plan. a sudden, unexpected turn of events leads you into a world of baby bottles and baby grows, it just so happens that the cause of this mess is your boss...min yoongi.

⇢ warning(s): please read! mentions of infidelity, insecurity, unexpected pregnancy, light!description of birth ( pain, water breaking ), soft smut, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, unprotected sex ( please wear protection ),  mentions of one night stands, mentions of drunk sex,  phone sex, oral sex ( female receiving ), masturbation ( male + female ) , light!praise kink, pregnancy kink, daddy kink, dirty talk and swearing.

⇢ author’s note(s): hey everyone! this is a kinda late birthday fic for our wonderful boy min yoongi! i love parent aus and i just got to thinking about how yoongi would be the most amazing dad and boom dis bad boy popped out. I hope you enjoy reading and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!! also thank you to my wonderful gigi ( @fantasybangtan​ ) for this beautiful banner, love you so much :(

one month. two blue lines.

this was not supposed to happen. this was never in the plan. you were supposed to work your ass off, show off your skills, get promoted and live a comfortable life. there was no time in your plan for this.

no time in your plan for a baby.

you feel as if the whole world has been drained away as you sit on the edge of your bath tub, your chest rising and falling with panic —you hadn’t even noticed, not until it was too late. your period had always been irregular, is it was easy for you to miss the signs. it couldn’t be happening. it can’t be happening. “how can this be happening?” you whisper to yourself, the lump in your throat makes your voice sound hoarse and weak.  

“well, when two very special people love each other..” your roommate, yura, begun as she rests her head on your shoulder and grabs your trembling hand. she had always been a joker, much to the chargen of your half brother, seokjin.

“she knows how it works, yura! it’s the sex that got her there!” your sibling yells, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at you with a scolding disappointment. you’d never seen him so angry before, face red and the vein in his neck on the verge of bursting. you could tell he was trying to reign in his temper and you knew it was more than just rage he was feeling. seokjin had never known his farther, your mother was too ashamed to ever tell him and so he spent most of his life living with a hole in his heart. “do you even know who the father is?” 

you flinch at his sharp tone, knowing it was only his self inflicted conflict that was so venomous. yura’s head snaps up to glare at seokjin, lips parted in shock at he continues his rant. “how irresponsible could you be, YN? getting pregnant at this time in your career, how could you be so stupid?” 

“seokjin, enough!” yura snaps furiously, standing up with her hands resting comfortingly on your shoulders. she stares him down, rendering him silent and huffs. “YN is a grown woman...twenty-four years of age, meaning, you can’t scold her like a child anymore. it’s her body, her life and she’ll do as she damn well pleases. “

the sounds of their voices fade to nothing but static as they bicker back and forth about you. it’s almost as if you’re not even there, mind a million miles away. the mere thought of a life growing inside you has you spiralling and it’s not until seokjin puts a hand on your shoulder, that you look up.

“do...you know who the father is?” yura asks you quietly and avoids your gaze at his flits between hers and seokjin’s face.

“i do,” you twiddle your thumbs nervously, thinking back to the only occasion you can remember. you rub your eyes as they slowly begin to water, your brother and best friend nuzzling into you to help calm your nerves. “i know exactly who it is.”

seokjin and yura share a look, worried for the name about to pass your lips.

three months.

the walk to the top office is a brisk and daunting one. thousands of scenarios occupy your mind but you remember your brother’s advice and try to keep a steady head. you relax your stance as the elevator doors close in front of you, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. a hand comes to rest on your lower stomach, reaching for the bump that was barely visible. 

you’d been to various different appointments over the last few weeks, blood tests, ultra-sounds and a paternity test. groaning, you remember the face of the assistant, her pointed nose tilted up in disgust when you begged her for any disgarded coffee cups the executive had lying around. all you needed was the tiniest trace of saliva to confirm your suspicions.

reaching your desired floor, you step out of the lift, and the sudden feeling of exposure crawls up your spine. patent heels click and clack against the smooth marble floor as you head to the front office. the light shines through the glass panes but it doesn’t lift your somber mood.

“i have an appointment with the executive?” you smile politely to the receptionist behind the desk and hand over your ID badge. she’s surprised, to say the least, when she checks it over and you can tell she’s unsure of how someone of your position would get an appointment on such short notice.

she lets you through regardless, mentioning to the executive that you’ll be up soon and too expect you. your once calm and collected walk is now weak and wobbly at  your ankles, you shake as you knock on the door and quiver when a deep voice beckons you in.

the room is bright, illuminated by natural light that shines through the glass panes directly onto the office. it’s sleek, black accents run through out the room with shades of whites and yellows and greys for contrast. a long desk, also black in colour, sits in the middle of the room, in front of the largest window that looks out onto the busy streets of seoul. you wonder if people ever look up and try to imagine what would happen in a room like this. the though of what’s about to happen sends chills down your spine. 

your patent heels sink into the carpeted floor, the softness and uneven ground do nothing to help your quaking knees. 

MR. MIN YOONGI 

the letters are engraved into the golden placement with thick, bold letters and reading it makes your heart race. the man himself is oblivious to your entrance, once deep red and burgundy hair having faded into his natural jet black roots. he wears a navy suit, tailored perfectly to fit his shoulders and his tie sits promptly around his neck, not a hair is out of place.

he hadn’t always been this perfect, you of all people would’ve known that. min yoongi was notorious in your company for his simple two step manoeuvre; flirting and fucking. whilst you had yet to fall victim to his charms, you knew to steer clear of him at company parties. yoongi had been a simple project manager at the daegu branch of your company, The Red Label, an up and coming fashion brand in south korea— before being unexpectedly promoted to executive to the seoul branch. you heard the last one had quit from heart break caused by the man himself. 

you, yourself were a new fashion designer, fresh out of college when you joined. you were happy to say that your designs had been worn by many idols since you started your job, including the infamous jeon jungkook.

you remember meeting yoongi at the annual anniversary party, drunk memories of the night suddenly becoming more and more clear. 

“yes?” he asks, looking up from his papers with a thin-lipped smile. he’s trying to be polite, you can tell, but you hate the way his black eyes watch you with discontent. you doubt he recognises you, remembers what went down a few months back. 

“hi...” you breathe, the anxiety from your thoughts rushing in. yoongi simply stares you down, his dark eyes watching as you shuffle under his gaze. he leans back in his desk chair, boredom etched into his features.

“look ms. kim,  i’m a busy man and have plenty of meetings to attend to today... so id prefer it if you didn’t go wasting my time.”

heat flushes through your veins and tingles at your fingertips, the words you had chanted to yourself in the mirror as practice have suddenly gone astray. you look to yoongi, his impatient stare boring holes into your very soul and you can tell he’s growing irritable. 

yoongi opens his mouth again to start a simple attack. “as i have stated already, ms. kim, i am a busy man with many duties to attend to today, so if you don’t mind-“ 

you hate this, you hate him. you hate how he thinks he can talk to you like you’re beneath him. especially after what he did to you. 

“i’m pregnant.” you blurt out, your rigid frame becoming lax as you realise what you’ve done. you watch as yoongi’s face contorts with confusion, what does this have to do with him? he must me thinking.

“why-?”

“it’s your child,” you snap back, suddenly gaining the roaring confidence seokjin had instilled in you many years ago. you march your way over to his desk, slapping down a file of all the tests you’d gotten, this paternity test with his DNA and his name in thick bold letters standing out on the white pages. “the documents are all here, if you don’t believe me.” 

the colour drains from yoongi’s face as he realises the severity behind his once careless actions, he never thought this would happen, he always thought he’d been, “safe? didn’t we use a condom?” he mumbles quietly, embarrassed and ashamed. 

“you insisted that we didn’t need one, you were too intent on getting your congratulations for your recent promotion.” you explain curtly, wrapping an arm protectively around your stomach. 

it was only then that yoongi noticed, the small curve of your stomach that was carrying a life that he had helped to make.  whether he wanted it or not, yoongi was going to be a father and he could tell by the fire in your eyes that you were going to do everything in your power to provide for this child. 

he sits back in his chair and runs a hand over his face, letting it cup his chin as he thinks. “okay....okay, fuck. what do we do now?” 

“well, i...” you hesitate, opening your mouth in a silent gasp. you step back from the desk and start to twiddle with your thumbs as you huff, nervous. “i don’t want this baby, my baby to grow up without a father. i’ve seen first hand how painful that can be. i also understand that, considering our circumstances, it might not be the best idea but i still believe you should take responsibility of a father and help look after them as well.” 

your answer is thoughtful, none of your words are fuelled by malicious intent. you want the best for the baby, your baby, his baby. yoongi’s heart clenches in his chest, his baby. 

“when’s your next appointment?” he asks in a whisper, a million and one thoughts rushing through his head at once. you look surprised, expecting yoongi to try and pay you off and keep quiet.

“next monday.” 

“good, i’ll be there.” 

three months, one week.

“is there any particular reason in which you’re not letting me attend today?” your brother hums, your only thought from then is to only roll your eyes as you pack your bag. phone, keys, purse. seokjin watches as you flutter about, fluffing your hair and straightening the sweater you wear, so it sits over your small bump just fine. 

shaking your head, you attempt to hide the nerves that crawl up your throat in fear of spewing them all out onto the floor. you’d blame it on early morning sickness. your older brother eyes you suspiciously, dark brow arched perfectly as a finger rests on his top lip. he knows you like the back of his hand, everything there is to know about you. he knew you were excitable when it came to things like new music or watching re-runs of americas next top model. he knew you were shy with physical contact and intimacy. he knew that sometimes you got so anxious and scared, especially with deadlines that your words became jumbled up and you’d forget your name. 

he knew why you were being so quiet today. 

you ignored him nonetheless, looking ever so slightly flustered once you’d finished getting yourself ready. you hadn’t felt this way since you’d submitted your first design to the Red Label. 

“are you sure? i know you hate all the machines and the gel the put on your tummy-“ the elder rambled and watched you collapse onto the couch beside him, you clasp your hands over his knee and sigh at him. clearly exhasperated.

“yoongi is coming,” you grumble eventually, curling in on yourself with a large pout. seokjin narrows his eyes, ever since finding out and confirming that yoongi was the father, he had been far from happy. seokjin remembered referring to the man as a pompous piece of poop, except more foul language was used. “i know you don’t like him, but we decided to try this co-parent thing? i’m just nervous that he’ll want to drop out as soon as he sees the baby-“ 

frowning, your brother shuffles over to you and presses a light kiss to your forehead as an attempt to comfort you.  “and if he does, we’ll figure it out together. promise.” 

you nod in affirmation, leaning into seokjin’s touch. he gets up to check the door a while later, calling out for you confusedly. “YN, there’s someone here to see you?” 

following his voice, you find yourself side by side with your brother, facing a man about your age if not younger. he’s dressed formally, in a black suit and white shirt, a bow tie around his neck. he offers you a boxy grin and you frown. 

“who are you?” 

“ah, you must be YN.” 

“yes, she is, but who are you?” seokjin cuts in before you can open your mouth, moving stand protectively in front of yourself and the baby. confused, you’re eyes widen and you shuffle back in the doorway to protect yourself further.

the man’s enthusiastic grin drops slightly as he readjusts his tie, coughing and holding his hand out to your older sibling. “taehyung, kim taehyung...” he introduces himself and falters when seokjin doesn’t take his hand. “i’m mr min’s driver, he sent me to collect ms. kim for her appointment today.” 

“driver? collect my sister? why i oughta-“ 

you set a palm on your brother’s chest and push him back lightly, smiling at taehyung as you do so. “jinnie,” you warm him and ignore his angry stare before addressing the driver. “i’ll be ready in a moment, taehyung.” 

quickly, you run back into the apartment to grab your bag and coat, returning fully dressed and ready to go. taehyung is already waiting with the door open by the car outside. you turn to your brother and hum. “i’m mad at him too, for sending a driver, but at least let me rip him a new one myself.” you say, breathlessly.

“with pleasure.” 

“a driver, really, min yoongi?” 

you storm past the man himself, anger flaring up within you at just the sight of his stupid designer suit and stupid pointed leather shoes that were probably imported from italy. he‘s a stupid man. who even wears a suit to a hospital appointment? 

yoongi stands flabbergasted, hands up in defence whilst taehyung only shrugs his shoulders and mentions he’ll be parked in the private area. the executive quickly follows you, surprised that you can even walk that fast with growing life inside of you and bends over with palms on his knees when you stop at the receptionist desk.

“i didn’t think it was smart of me to delay the appointment by meeting you at your own home, ms. kim.” 

rolling your eyes, you lean up to the receptionist, ignoring the way your name rolls so greasily off of yoongi’s tongue. “appointment for YN kim? 2:30.” you beam down at the man behind the desk, who’s eyes light up when they notice you.

“YN! lovely to see you again, you’re right on time!” he hums and checks you in on the computer as you spare a quick glare to the man behind you. the receptionist follows your gaze and leans in to whisper. “is this the baby father?” 

a light chuckle wafts past your lips and you nod as you tie the appointment slip from him. “why yes hoseok, he is.” 

“how unfortunate that his personality doesn’t match his looks.” 

you giggle and bid hoseok goodbye, walking down the hall to your doctors office for your ultrasound. yoongi mostly follows and stays quiet, sensing the anger and resentment you have for him, building. he sighs in the waiting room, knowing that he has to find some way to get a long with you and change your impression of him for the sake of his child. 

“miss kim for her ultrasound? oh and is that dad?” your doctor asks as she leads you into the room, helping you onto the bed and allowing you to push up your jumper for the jelly. yoongi feels a pang of guilt resonating in his chest, knowing that he should be the one helping you, but stands awkwardly to the side nonetheless. 

shuffling up on the seat, you look to yoongi expectantly to introduce himself and he jumps up, fixing his suit as he leans forward to take the doctor’s hand. “min yoongi...uh... dad.” 

“dr park, or you can call me dr jihyo,” she smiles, getting ready to apply the jelly to your stomach. “you know the drill YN, it might be a little cold,” yoongi watches quietly as you nod in confirmation, flinching when the cool substance comes into contact with your tiny bump. “alright! good job mum! let’s get you all set up.” 

it takes a few minutes for dr park to set up the monitor, using a device that yoongi doesn’t recognise to scan for what he assumes is the baby. yourself and the doctor chat idly, and yoongi realises how scary it must’ve been to do these things on your own for the first time. his train of thought is cut off by the sound of a steady, tiny heartbeat filling the room. 

that’s his baby, your baby. 

“your baby sounds nice and healthy,” dr park hums happily, tilting the device to get more of a view of your little peanut. she points her finger on the screen and turns back to smile at you. “here they are, hiding from us.”

you giggle happily and for a split second, beam over at yoongi as you witness the life you’ve created together. “is that our baby-?” yoongi half whimpers, taking a step forward to take your hand in his. you jump at the feeling, his change in attitude but appreciate the support nonetheless, on the edge of tears yourself.

these last view weeks had been daunting, life changing, but seokjin and yura had been there for you every step of the way. holding your hand and coming with you to check ups. 

“yes sir! i’m going to print out some pictures of the scans for you both, while we’re here, would you like to know the gender of your baby?” she asks politely and taps away on her computer.

“no, thank you.” 

“yes, please.” 

you send a glare yoongi’s way, fired up inside as he matches the look. 

“yes!”

“no!” 

the tension thickens in the room, so much so that a knife wouldn’t be able to cut through. dr. park stands from her chair, arms up to ease you both and coughs for your attention. “how about i print those pictures and you two can decide when i come back?” she suggests as you rip your hand from yoongi’s, who feels the walls build up around you again.

“that’d be great, thank you doctor.” he hums, watching as the doctor leaves the room before turning to you with a deepest scowl. “what was all that about, ms. kim? you were acting like a petulant child.” 

you growl deeply, sitting up and wiping yourself clean of the cold jelly. you pull down your sweater and turn to look at the man with a dark frown. “me? a child?” you tsk, looking him up and down. “i didn’t see you taking any initiative when it came to the baby until wanting to know its sex! as far as i’m concerned, mr. min, you’ve acted as nothing more than a sperm donor i actually have to see,” you spit, ignoring the pang of guilt you feel when yoongi visibly flinches at your words. “and for the love of god, it’s YN.” 

“well, YN,” he starts to argue, brushing off the hurt. “this is a first for me too, and if we’re going to make it work we have to compromise. i get it, i haven’t been much  help or support but i am trying to get better, for you and the baby.” 

you falter, you know that you have been tough on him but he is also making an effort by even showing up at all. sighing, you look to yoongi thoughtfully. “you’re right and I am sorry for lashing out, but this is one thing i won’t change my mind on. we have many decisions to make together, but this one i need for myself.” you say, rubbing your arm sheepishly.

“that’s fine, we can make that work.” yoongi smiles softly, to which you can’t help but return.

five months.

some would be shocked at the progress yourself and yoongi had made, having a baby really changed people. yoongi was much sweeter now, having dropped most of the formalities in favour of your ‘beautiful’ name, or so he called it. the executive brought you lunch almost everyday, left snacks and sweet notes to aid your cravings and ease your hormones. 

yoongi even offered to send you money for groceries, claiming he wanted the baby to have a healthy lifestyle from early on. of course you refused it, whilst you loved the support you were getting from him, it sent chills down your spine at how fast he’d changed.

“but what’s so wrong about that?” yura asks you one night. the pair of you are both cuddled up under heaps of blankets, your feet on her lap as she munches on the kale chips yoongi had given you that day. she inspects the green crisp for a moment, blinking before popping it on her tongue and crunching happily. “free food? comfier clothes? a driver? sounds like the life to me, YN.” 

you snatch the bag of chips away from your roommate, knowing it’ll spoil her appetite before your brother brings over dinner. peeking into the bag yourself, you swipe a few of the healthy snack for yourself, grimacing at the taste. what kind of sane person combines kale and chips? who? and it didn’t help that your cravings had kicked in. 

“there’s nothing wrong with it, i just don’t want money spent on me.” you whine and pout, shoving the chips away from yourself. 

yura only rolls her eyes and flicks your forehead. “but the moneys not for you it’s for miss yura junior over here!” she coos, raising her voice by a few octaves to talk to your bump. you watch with furrowed brows and a slight grimace as your roommate continues to make sounds horrifyingly similar to breeding cats.

“please, stop.” 

“nono, she loves it.” 

just at that moment, seokjin makes his entrance with bustling bags carried by his poor boyfriend- namjoon. you push yura away from your bump in order to make an effort in reaching namjoon but he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“you mean, he,” your brother comments and settles himself in the kitchen to prep you a meal. “i can already tell, that little critter in there is a boy and none of you can convince me otherwise.” he insists loudly, causing namjoon to roll his eyes.

“maybe YN’s results will...” yura turns to you with a mischievous glint, itching her fingers up your side knowing full well how ticklish you were. you’d probably sock her in the face with how much you wriggled. 

“and there’s not a chance that either of you will find out, i’m under strict instructions to keep the results from you. all of you.” namjoon interjects pointedly, sagging into the seats and rubbing his arms from all the shopping your brother made him carry. yura sticks her tongue out at him. “now what’s this about baby daddy money?” 

pulling the blankets up to your chin, you sigh, pouting over at namjoon. namjoon was like a second elder brother to you, quiet and helpful much unlike seokjin. you suppose that’s why the pair made such good partners, they balanced each other out well. “yoongi has been sending things over to help take care of myself and the baby but, it’s too much!” you huff and throw yourself back into the couch, sinking in and away from the world. “he even moved my desk at work, closer to his!” 

joon tilts his head, looking at you with a knowing smirk and taps his nose. “sounds like this yoongi guy has a thing for you.” 

“nuh uh, never, nada...nope!” you counter, shaking your head. there’s no way in hell yoongi could possibly feel that way about you. your hook up was a one time thing and you didn’t quite match up to the other girls he hooked up with at the office. “never in a million years. not possible.”

“you never know, YN,” he hums back, shrugging nonchalantly.  “yoongi could be everything you least expect.”

you lose yourself in namjoon’s the words, thinking deeply as seokjin starts to being out the dinner trays.

“can you believe, min yoongi put a baby in her?” 

“i want to know how his dick even got up just by looking at her.”

your skin crawls with discomfort as you enter the break room, your co-workers instantly silencing. this was common, for them to make you the subject of their idol chit chat. of course with your sudden pregnancy and yoongi’s newfound favouritism for you during meetings and overall, it only made sense for everyone to put two and two together. 

jealous female coworkers didn’t like the idea that min yoongi didn’t want to hook up anymore, he wanted to focus on the one thing more important than his job. 

he wanted to focus on you. 

so now you were YN KIM, the red label’s pregnant whore. katie’s words, not your own. she was a new international relations employee from overseas, working with your departments new collection to debut in the US market. 

you loathed her. 

“good morning, YN,” she beamed, flicking her bleach blonde locks over her shoulder and pursed her lips the tacky barbie pink lipstick on. her insect eyes shift up and down your frame, making you curl in on yourself uncomfortably. “you’re looking a little bloated today.” 

you bite your lip in an effort to stop it from quivering, holding your bump protectively as you wait for the kettle to boil for some tea. “i’m pregnant.” you mumble quietly as a line of defence, wincing as katie and her minions let out high pitched, squeaking laughs. 

“are you sure? it seems like you’ve put on a few.”

gasping, you drop the mug you were using for tea and bite your lip, desperate for the tears not to fall. as quickly as you can, you shuffle out of the dreaded break room and ignore the ugly chuckles of your coworkers, making a break for the bathrooms. 

bursting into the room, you brush past whoever’s about to leave and dash to the taps to splash cold water over your hot, tear stained cheeks. you hope to god that no one is here to see your snotty faced, crying session but your biggest nightmare only comes true when a warm hand settles on your shoulder. 

“hate to break it to you sweetheart, but i don’t think this is the little ladies room,” you pout through your tears as you turn to face the voice, absolutely mortified when you notice them to be jimin. the blonde offers you a small smile that drops when he notes your sniffling, immediately replacing his expression with a look of concern. “ah! YN? are you alright?” 

clearly not, you think but allow jimin to grab you some tissues and dab at your tears. jimin was a sweet boy, a fresh face around the company since he was hired to replace yoongi’s assistant (she had quit for undisclosed reasons.). the boy was smartly dressed, always in a blazer and woven sweater. he wore circular specs that always slid down his nose, but his golden weaved hair was always pushed back in away that had the ladies drooling.

“what happened?” jimin asks quietly, helping you fix your makeup to a presentable state. his touch is gentle as he dabs under your eyes, looking at you earnestly.

“promise you won’t tell yoongi?” 

“pinky!” 

you sigh heavily when the man steps back, offering him tired smile with puffy eyes. “the inernational relations girl has turned every one of my coworkers against me, ever since she found out that yoongi was too committed for hookups...” you mumble sadly, gesturing to your bump as jimin follows your gaze. 

the blonde steps forward, grabbing your hands and holding them tight as he shakes his head. “they’re just jealous!” he exclaims, making you jump slightly. “i would be too if i was one of them, you’re a beautiful girl YN, with a beautiful baby coming along. if they’re going to be mean about it, they can fuck themselves because yoongi sure ain’t.” he finishes with a triumphant smile, looking down at you.

jimin is a sweetheart, and having only seen him around the office you know that you have someone trustworthy on your side for now. “thank you jimin, so much for your kind words.” 

the blond only tilts his head, offering you a crescent moon eyed smile. “anytime, YN! now let’s get you back on that office floor.” he beams and takes your hand, leading you back to your desk, much to the dismay of all the other girls.

“repeat that again.” 

“i fired her.” 

yoongi punctuates every word, teeth grit as he spits them out. it’s almost as if thinking about the incident makes him angry, which of course it does, grown women bullying the mother of his child. 

you sit straight faced in yoongi’s office chair, the doors are locked and the curtains open widely. the pale light of the clouded seoul sky brightens up the dark scowl on his face, as it caresses the curve of his pink lips and slope of his nose. shaking your head, you watch as yoongi fixes his suit and makes his way over to you. his steely, copper eyes are locked on your smaller frame as he flattens his palms out on the desk before you. 

he really is mad and you can’t blame jimin for telling yoongi the truth. 

“why?” you gasp with parted lips, looking up at yoongi with innocent eyes in hopes of ridding him from his scowl. 

the man himself leans down close to you, his face within an inch of yours and his lips deathly close to your own. his breath is warm against your top lip, and you force your gaze upwards into his dark, liquorish eyes. “you know why, YN. there’s no way i’m going to have the women in this office harass you for my actions, for carrying my baby.” he seethes, tone contrasting with the forefinger and thumb he uses to gently tilt your chin up so you face him. 

“if that’s the case, then you should have fired the whole floor.” you say meekly and gulp, this was the most yoongi had ever touched you since that night you spent tangled in each other’s arms, while he passionately ground his hips into- YN! you’re getting sidetracked! of course, aside from the occasional hand at the waist or on your bump to guide you. 

“i would, for you.” 

the line sends shivers down your spine and you bite your lip, lowering your gaze.

yoongi smirks down at you, letting you go gently and you’re left wondering how much power he really has in this company. the executive pulls up a chair beside you, grabbing your hand after a beat of silence. “YN, I’ve been doing some thinking, and i believe it would be best for you and the baby to move in with me in my penthouse down town,” yoongi explains simply, as your brows furrow in confusion.

“of course we’ll get a bigger place when he or she arrives, but i’ll take care of that and in the meantime i think it would also be in our best interest for you to quit your job here.”

“excuse me?” 

yoongi hums absentmindedly. “i asked you to-“ 

“no i heard what you said, it’s absolutely ridiculous yoongi!” you cry and tear your hand from his, the deep set frown on your face growing into an ugly glare. the man simply sits back in his chair, confused. “you think just because i have your child inside of me, i’m going to do everything you say? quit my job? i worked hard to be here, i sacrificed days and hours for this position and i’m not going to leave my hard earned job because you have money and because you can get want you want.” 

he stands, pushing a hand through his dark hair and stepping towards you. you weren’t going to let this man intimidate you. “YN, i’m simply making a few suggestions that will make this pregnancy easier.” yoongi growls lowly, feeling the anger boil up inside of him. why couldn’t you see that he just wanted to help?

“christ, yoongi! why can’t you see that i have a mind of my own as well?” you mutter, the hot rage coursing through your veins becoming a muted frustration. anger isn’t good for the baby and you know yoongi only means well. defeated, you pick up your bag and nod over to the man before you. “i appreciate all the help you’ve given these last few months, but i’m not a doll like your other girls, yoongi, i’m human too.”

you mumble the last part, adding that you’ll take a few days off if it pleases him. as you leave the office, yoongi is left with the lingering feeling that he’s disappointed you yet again,  wanting more than anything to fix this. 

“YN, sweetheart! YN...please wait!” 

your frown deepens and shoulders hunch over the kart at the sound of yoongi’s voice. if only you weren’t pregnant— maybe then could you run a little faster. the executive calls your name again, following after you as you turn the corner into the baby isle. all you wanted to do was shop, for your baby— undisturbed. 

rolling your shoulders, you push the kart at a faster pace and try to focus your attention on the adorable little baby grows with a range of soft pastels. “YN...” you cease at yoongi’s whining tone, biting your lip as you start to count to ten. “YN, please.” one, two, three—

“please-“

“what? what yoongi?” 

yoongi throws his hands up into the air in defence, blinking shortly. you sigh in defeat and stop the kart in front of the teething toys and give the executive a lazy once over— his fit is different to what you would typically see him in, aside from his gucci and dior fabric suits. today he dons a tight fitting black t-shirt and casual black jeans that hug his thighs deliciously. breathing in deeply through your nose, your eyes flicker back up to meet yoongi’s sheepish honey ones, you nod to him to continue. 

“i’m sorry,” he breathes hesitantly, debating whether or not he should reach out and touch you. “i’m sorry for making you feel like i was taking your career away from you. i know how much this job means to you and also how hard you worked for it...” the executive bites his lip and watches earnestly as you quirk you’re brow, cocking your hip as if to say ‘oh really, min yoongi?’. the man himself knows that you mean business and chooses his next words carefully. “what i’m trying to say, is that i was out of line. just because we’re having a baby together, doesn’t mean i have a right to dictate your life.” 

the brunette looks down, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. you hum happily and take a baby grow off of the shelf, smiling at the words embroidered into the soft white fabric. ‘daddy’s number one fan.’

“you can make it up to me by pushing around this kart,” you wink and dump the tiny clothing into the object itself. “it’s heavy.” 

yoongi smiles gratefully, lifting his head and gripping the kart. “anything for you, darling.” 

seven months.

“so what kind of gender reveal are we doing? cake, balloons—ooooh! confetti!” 

eyes rolling, you  set the small box of collectible doohickeys on the smooth glass tables of yoongi’s fancy, four bedroom apartment. it was a place uptown with views of cotton candy sunrises, baby blues and pinks that swirled with light oranges just above vast greenery. yoongi had bought a year or two again with no use but now it was being made into a space for you, himself and the baby— right after you agreed to move in with him. 

yura is perched in the plush leather couch, fur blankets draped over the backs that you eye suspiciously— you’re sure that when the baby comes, they’re something that you’ll have to replace, in fear they’ll be stained with baby fluids. “YN...” she sings with her pen between her teeth, she’d been planning your baby shower since you’d been too wrapped up with OB appointments and settling in with yoongi.

as you blink, you pick up a small snow globe from one of your family vacations with seokjin— tilting your head with a sly smile. “you know there isn’t going to be a gender reveal,” you put the globe down. would go nice with the kitchen? you’d have to put it out of the little one’s reach, though. “not until the baby is born, yura.” 

“what’s happening to yura when the baby’s born?” 

“you guys are so lame.” the girl in question scoffs, kicking her feet in defeat as she gives you an exaggerated sigh. yura pokes an unsuspecting yoongi in the chest as he enters the room with one of the final boxes before; she skips out to help your brother and his boyfriend with the rest. soaring a glance, you notice that ‘kitchenware’ is scrawled across the brown cardboard in the executive’s messy chicken scratch— something about the man that you’ve come to adore over the last few months. yoongi had done many things for you and the baby, so you knew moving in with him would give him some sense of security— and it made you feel much better.

yoongi looks up at you, confused as you start to giggle— moving to help him unpack the pretty marbled dishes you’d picked out with him. “why are we the lame ones?” he says with a pout, whiny tone like music to your ears. 

“she’s still not over our decision to keep the baby’s gender a secret,” you raise your brows in a knowing look, reaching over and grabbing the executive’s hand sweetly. “she wanted to do a gender reveal.” 

“we still could,” yoongi teases you playfully, as he uses your intertwined hands to twirl you into his chest so that he could hug you from behind. you shake your head with a bubble of laughter at the dark haired man’s antics— only quieting down when his hands slip down to your bump. a comfortable silence sweeps over you both, nothing but the sounds of your anticipating breathing filling the little space between you. another beat of silence passes before you feel the light tremor of feet and hands from the bump. “there they are.” 

the pair of you spend the next few moments wrapped up in each other’s arms, waiting for your little treasure to kick and push at your tummy— but to your dismay, yoongi makes a quick departure after receiving a call from the board. for you, work had been slow and difficult as your pregnancy progressed whilst yoongi’s grew busier and busier as the season deadlines approached. you’d decided to take your leave, finding it harder to keep on your feet while your ankles begin to swell and your joints became sore— yoongi of course, was relieved. 

“you two are getting affectionate.” namjoon comments, sliding into the room after your boss has left. you roll your eyes and make a move to sit on the plush couch, your little one becoming too excited. 

the elder male quickly rushes over, taking your hand as he helps you to sit— you smile gratefully as thanks. “we’re just friends.” 

“friends who‘re having a baby together.” 

biting your lip, you pause your actions as an uneasy feeling spikes up within your chest. yoongi couldn’t possibly see you both as more than friends— he was in this for the baby and so were you. it didn’t matter that he sometimes kissed closer to your lips than normal or that he had a habit of making you blush. it didn’t matter that he called you sweet names, held your hand tight and was protective over you because mon yoongi wasn’t falling for you. was he?

or could it be, that you were falling for him?

namjoon’s brow creases with worry when your silence boarders on the edge of uncomfortable— making him take your hand in his, once more. “YN, are you okay? did i say something wrong-?” 

“n-no i’m just...i’m just scared, joon,” you whisper, throat drying at your sudden realisation. the whole world feels as if it’s about the slip away from under your feet, the words you’re about to say— foreign on your tongue. namjoon looks up at you, the fear in his whiskey eyes reflecting your own. “i’m scared.”

“of what, YN?” the latter mumbles, concerned. 

“of falling,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “of falling for min yoongi.” 

min yoongi had come to realise that parties were never really his thing. 

they were easier to enjoy when people were drunk off their minds and didn’t know what was up or what was down. but observing the gathering from the edge of the room— completely sober and nursing a glass of baby champ had shown min yoongi that he’d never really liked parties. 

there were too many loud noises— the squealing from your friend and chatter from excited guests— and too many people, bodies closely packed in a tight space. at least when he was drunk, he was too out of his mind to care, but he was going to be a father now and taking care of his little humans meant taking care of himself. 

after all, drinking is what brought him is little gift in the first place. 

the only thing that makes the night more tolerable is the bright smile that you have plastered on your face. the executive grins when his gaze finds yours, you give him the sweetest of beams before turning back to conversing with one of your childhood friends. yoongi loves the way you look tonight; you’d settled on blush pink dress— one from a collection you’d designed yourself. he remembers how hard you’d worked to finish the designs before taking your leave, so he was adamant that you would wear the dress, the first of its kind.  your hair frames your face perfectly, each curl falling perfectly into place— caressing your soft cheeks that are lightly dusted with a warm blush to compliment the shadows that paint your eyelids. 

“you’re drooling, hyung...” 

the dark haired male jumps at the smooth voice from behind him, a scowl replacing the loving smile that once tickled at his lips. yoongi spins on his heel, adjusting his tailored jacket as his driver, taehyung slips an arm around his shoulders. the two had known each other for longer than it might have seemed, the younger being one of the few people yoongi actually trusted. they’d met back in college, before yoongi had become a big hot shot, before he fell into the world of sex, alcohol and money.

they’d lost touch when yoongi moved from deagu to work in seoul, seeing taehyung working there as a driver had been a pleasant surprise. the royal blue haired boy hasn’t changed a bit, the only thing being that he’d started dating the printer boy, jimin— who the executive ended up promoting because he loved the two so much. they were a trio, a little circle of trust and yoongi’s home away from home. 

but that didn’t stop the executive from cursing out his long time friend. “what the fuck taehyung?” yoongi hisses, pushing the driver lightly. he gives a brilliant laugh in response, as bright and as colourful as his head full of  “do i look like some kind of fucking dog to you?” 

jimin appears on yoongi’s left, wrapping his own arm around the older’s shoulder and linking his hand with his lover. oh god, the terrible two. who knew what mischievous they would get up to when together. “you do look like a puppy in love,” the blonde comments, tapping yoongi’s nose with his small pinky. he’s only a little bit tipsy, probably because of the whisky yoongi had caught them sneaking in. “woof woof.” 

“if hyung was a dog, what breed would he be?” 

“probably a chihuahua, small but...deadly.”

yoongi sighs, gaze switching between the two lovers as they squabbled over dog breeds excitedly. one, two, three, four— “do you need something?” he asks the pair, praying to heavens that they don’t and that they’ll leave him alone. 

jimin giggles, the sound bubbling from between his lush lips. “we’re here to give you a pep talk.” 

“you should tell her how you feel,” taehyung mumbles, clinging onto yoongi. affectionate and drunk. “you love her, everyone can see it.” 

“no they can’t—“ yoongi protests, but it’s far too late. the intoxicated pair of lovers are already pushing him in your direction and he can feel his heart beating violently in his chest as he nears you. since when were you able to make him nervous? perhaps his long time friends were right, the executive had felt himself grow fond of you— almost like his world revolves around you. he was with you not just for his child but for something much greater than himself. yoongi rolls his shoulders, his fingers barely touching at your own as he does his best to grab your attention, but then you turn around— glittering eyes shining even brighter at you look to him, the wisps of a greeting painted on your pink lips. “YN... i—“

his thoughts race a million miles a minute, just staring down at you makes yoongi’s heart stop. you barely have time to greet each other, before a loud nasally voice cuts through the buzzing electricity between you. “ahhh, mr min! the man of the hour, i’ve been dying to meet you.” 

“mum,” you whine with a shy smile, linking your arms with yoongi in an affectionate manner. “play nice.” 

“am i ever anything but?” 

taking the time to look between the two women, he notices the endearing similarities between you and your mother. like the crinkles under your eyes when you grin and the little tilt of your head when you listen intently. he can’t help but wonder what little habits your child will pick up when they’re a little older, will they be more like him? or like you? yoongi hopes to the heavens that your baby turns out like you. 

the man is so lost in thought that he almost forgets to introduce himself. “yoongi is just fine ma’am.” he smiles brightly, holding out a hand for mrs kim to shake— kissing it sweetly when she does so. he can’t help but blush under the intent gaze of your mother, squeezing your arm with nerves as he brushes through the terrains of his dark locks sheepishly. 

truth be told, meeting your mother was the most daunting part of the evening for yoongi. you had painted a picture of regal woman, to yoongi, mrs kim with deepest eyes that were warm and soft— seemingly   yes, he had faced celebrities and big bad CEOs but this was the grandmother of his unborn child. the woman who had raised and brought you into the world— he needed to prove himself worthy, especially since he’d impregnated you outside of marriage. yoongi wanted to show your mother that he could take care of you. 

“what a charming young man, YN, darling,” mrs kim chuckles, batting her lashes up at the executive. yoongi only chuckles shyly, feeling his heart rate increase at the compliment. he was never good at taking those. “you never told me he was this attractive, you’ll make handsome children.” 

“mother!” 

“ah but mrs kim, i’m sure that if our child does turn out as handsome as you say— it’ll all be due to YN and you of course.” yoongi grins cheekily, ducking his head when you swat his shoulder playfully. the rose tint on your cheeks tells yoongi that his words have done their job in making you flustered and of course impressing your mother too. 

the woman in question gives the executive a quick wink. “ever the flatterer too, hm?” 

“yes ma’am.” 

the conversation lasts for a minute or so longer before you’re rushing off to stop a slightly intoxicated jimin from stripping on the snack table as yura and taehyung cheer him on from below. affectionately, you lean up and kiss yoongi on the cheek before hurrying off with the help of your brother— leaving him alone with the intimidating presence of mrs kim herself.

moments pass without a word and yoongi wishes that he had stolen the liquor from tae so it’d at least soothe the adrenaline coursing through his veins. “i believe you’ll make a great father, min yoongi,” your mother announces, eyes trained on the daughter that she raised. “the way this baby has come about may be unconventional...but seokjin tells me you’ve stepped up to the plate, that you’ve come a long way.” she pauses, taking a breath as if she’s evaluating her words. “i know that you’ll take care of them, my daughter and her baby but i fear you’re not being one hundred percent honest.”

“i’m not?” the executive questions, lips forming a pout of confusion. whilst he was glad that seokjin had spoken highly of him and that despite the circumstances, your mother supported you both— he feared that if he’d lost your mother’s approval, you would take his child and not look back. 

mrs. kim shakes her head fondly, a light chuckle filling the air between them. “oh don’t look so afraid child, i mean, you’re not being honest with yourself.” she chides, rubbing yoongi’s forearm as his brows furrow further. still confused, a question forms on his lips but the executive is silenced by another tsk from your mother. “you’re in love with my daughter, it’s clear as day and i‘m afraid that if you don’t tell her now or ever— she’ll grow fearsome herself, fail to commit and...” the woman takes a deep breath, casting a gaze over to you that yoongi can’t help but follow. “she needs someone like you to take care of her when she doesn’t want any help. i trust you to do that for me, min yoongi.” 

the dark haired male takes a deep breath through his nose, watching as the elder woman takes her leave in favour of helping you calm your friends. he knows in his heart that she’s right, he loves you. he loves everything about you. 

and there was no better time to tell you, than now. 

the drive home is comfortable, quiet. yoongi steers with his eyes on the road and his hand intertwined with you over the console. he’s not watching you, but he knows that you’re counting the raindrops that slide down the tinted windows and merge with one another, you’ve told him that it was a habit you picked up as a child. 

the baby shower wrapped up just after eleven p.m, when you’d started to complain of sore feet and the baby begun kicking to their heart’s content. like the loving brother he was, seokjin offered to help clear up whilst joon packed a drunk, snogging jimin and taehyung into his own car to drop them home. you’d thanked them endlessly, only playing nice because yoongi had promised you a foot massage when you’d returned home. 

pulling into the driveway, yoongi turns off the ignition and lets the car fall into rest, the drifting hum of the car helping to steadying his nervous breathing. “we’re home,” he mumbles, more so to himself than you— biting at the skin of his lower lip. you’ve stopped counting the raindrops now, turning to face the man with a brow raised in confusion. 

“yoongi, is everything alright?” you ask, squeezing his hand tighter now, it feels weighty in your own— reassuring to hold like an enveloping warmth that touches your heart. even though the car is dark, you can still make out the lines of worry that crease in his forehead, he’s never usually this quiet, uncomfortably quiet. “please... you’re scaring me...”

“i’m in love with you.” he says after what seems like years of deafening silence, finally meeting your eyes with a steeling gaze. you gasp, jumping back in shock but yoongi doesn’t dare let your hand slip from his. you feared this, the day that he told you such a sweet little lie. because how could he ever love you? you were just a girl from an office party with nothing special about you. min yoongi didn’t care for you, is what your thoughts forced you to believe but your heart knew better. “and i...i know that you’re scared, i am too. but YN, i can promise you now, that i’ve never been so sure of this, of loving you than i have about anyone...”

yoongi takes both of your hands this time, dark, stormy eyes fluttering across your face earnestly. you know in your heart that you love him too, you’ve felt it for a while but he continues, giving you all the more reason to trust in his words. “you’re beautiful and kind, and these last few months i’ve realised that you’re more than i ever deserve,” he pauses, looking away shyly as he opens up to you. “and i love you, so much i-“

“just shut up and kiss me, min yoongi.” you whisper in response, cupping his cheeks and pulling him down for a sweet kiss. your lips meld together perfectly as your hands move into the oblivion sea of his hair, gripping the locks tightly while your tongue finds his— engaging in a battle of passion. memories flash behind your eyes of the night you spent with yoongi, the one that gave you your gift. his hands sneak down to your waist as you kiss him eagerly, pouring a million and one emotions into it. 

you don’t remember making it inside of the apartment, yoongi mumbling something about ‘not here’ in terms of taking you inside of the car. there’s a clash of tongue and teeth as you stumble up to your shared bedroom, pushing off clothes and letting out whimpers of one another’s names but when you reach the bed, rushed kisses become slow and steady, tender touches to your face and hips. “i want you,” yoongi says lowly, fingers tangling in your hair. “i want to take my time with you.” 

you nod slowly as he pecks your lips once before kissing a sweet trail down your body and to your ankles. yoongi silently pulls of each of your shoes, massaging your swollen ankles as he smooths over your skin. you let yoongi take off your jewellery and smooch at your wrists, let down your hair and finally— unzip your dress. instinctively, your arms wrap around yourself like a protective barrier, shielding your body from yoongi’s moonlit gaze. of course, you weren’t ashamed to be carrying life inside of you but your body was in no way what it was before. you had stretch marks from your growing bump and swollen breasts that started to lactate here and there— you weren’t ashamed just shy. 

“yoongi...i-“ you cant seem to find the words, gasping as the executive leans over you and pushes you down onto the bed. his slender fingers capture your wrists, gently pinning them above your head as his lips hover teasingly over your own. 

yoongi tilts his head, allowing the moonlight seeping through the curtains to illuminate his features— the slope of his nose and the dip of his cupid’s bow. the darkness in his whiskey eyes and the black flecks that paint them. he’s beautiful. “you’re beautiful,” he whispers, staring deep into your eyes. “you’re glowing, pregnant or not i still find you stunning. please don’t hide your beauty from me.” 

a small smile tugs at the curve of your lips as you nod silently, the man above you taking it as a sign to continue further. yoongi skilfully unclips your bra as his own lips find your neck, sucking on it diligently while your quiet whimpers fill the air like music to his ears. he litters your blank skin with shades of midnight blue and night sky purple as you arch your back into his chest but it’s not enough— you want to feel his skin against yours, the warmth of his body tangling with your own. 

“off,” you mumble, pushing at his shirt while his calloused hands rub circles into your bare hips. “take it off.” yoongi obliges, pulling away from you for just a brief second to strip off his button up— his suit jacket and tie having been thrown off as you stumbled into the house. his skin is milky and pale, only dotted with light patches of freckles and scars fading with adult hood. “you’re beautiful too.” you add, looking yoongi deep in the eye.

he shakes his head fondly, kissing you again but only briefly. “i love you,” he utters into the quiet night before moving down to peck your bump. “i love you too.” you wait a moment as your baby delivers a small kick, seemingly tired out for now and share a gummy smile with yoongi. from there, your lover makes quick work of your panties, pulling them off in one swift movement as he takes to spreading your legs. 

his touches are feather light, kisses like wise as the drift across your inner thighs and avoid where you need him most.  “please, please yoongi.” you chant his name like a mantra, his warm breath making you even more sensitive than before.

“what is it that you need sweetheart? tell me.” 

you chest heaves as yoongi smooths over your thighs, enjoying your responsiveness to him. “you, need you to touch me! god, please yoongi.” you whine, legs beginning to tremble with need. the executive only chuckles at the mention of his name, using his large hands to spread you open again, a single digit traces the outline of your heat, causing your hips to twitch up and follow the source of your pleasure. 

 “you’re so wet for me sweetheart and i haven’t even touched you yet,” yoongi coos, collecting your nectar with two fingers. he moans at the taste, leaning into your dripping heat with his tongue and swiping at the rest, making you whine and writhe in satisfaction. you had no idea why you were so sensitive and needy for his touch— blame it on the pregnancy hormones— it was almost as if yoongi had set alight a fire under your skin, scorching you with a hot desire as he spread your lower lips and tongue slipping past your wet hole.

fingers grip at his hair while you open up for him like a flower, hips rutting into his mouth as his plush lips sloppily kissed at your pulsing clit. “god, yoongi!” you cried, eyes rolling back as he slipped a digit past your entrance, curling it along side his tongue causing more of your hot slick to gush down your thighs, urging yoongi on while he moaned into your mess. the vibrations sent chills up your spine, making you arch your back and scream into the night, arousal spreading through your body and coursing through your veins. “please.” 

“please, what?” the man in question asked, pressing your hips down as he looked up at you, evidence of your arousal painting his cheeks and chin. “tell daddy so he can help his baby.” yoongi cooed, replacing his tongue with two fingers, the stretch becoming a satisfying burn as he prepared you for his cock. 

you writhed as the title slipped carelessly from between his lips, squeezing your tightness around his fingers as you struggled to keep your thighs apart. you were his baby and he was going to spoil you rotten. “wanna...wanna,” you fumble over your words as yoongi curls his fingers, pressing them into that spot that has you wriggling in the sheets—desperate for release. “wanna cum,” 

“oh baby, you can only cum when daddy’s filling you up, yeah?” he speaks softly, all the love in the world intertwined with his quiet syllables. yoongi lazily draws circles on your clit, pressing his forehead to yours as she whispers sweet praises against your lips— they don’t stop when he pulls his fingers from your swollen heat nor do the kisses that come as he sheds the remainder of his clothes and aligns his hardened cock at your entrance. 

you bite your lip harshly, eyes rolling with pleasure as yoongi’s hands find your own— his length pushing between your folds teasingly. you squeeze at your intertwined fingers, a sign that you’re ready to take him, that you don’t want to wait anymore. yoongi looks to you lovingly, lips hovering over your own, barely touching but saying every word and then some— you feel it, you see it that in this moment he loves you and for those to come, he loves you. 

with a silent nod and another squeeze of your hands, yoongi pushes past your entrance, nestling his cock within the heat of your soaked walls. together, your share a gasp— finally being united as one. this time feels like your first together, no drunken hook ups, just you and yoongi and all the love in the world, between you both. his warm breath fans over your face like an ocean breeze as he sets a rhythm with his hips, slow at first with easy rolls of his body against  yours— only speeding up with every octave that your moans rise in. 

“yoongi...feels so good,” you mumble breathlessly, freeing one hand from his and burying them deep in his oblivion hair. yoongi only smiles down at you in response, bucking his hips a little feverishly as he drags the tip of his cock against your velvet lined walls. you jolt with pleasure, beginning to grind your hips back, in wanton— finding your hand slipping down to cup the man’s cheeks, letting him peck your finger tips that rest near the corners of his mouth. “so...so good...” 

yoongi leans down, being mindful of the bump as he presses his chest to yours, your intertwined hands finding purchase in the silk of your sheets while he bottoms out inside of you. the room becomes filled with a vivid heat, the scent of passion twisting with the air leaving a lingering touch on your skin.  “yeah? you like that sweetheart?” his voice is a light whisper, sending shivers down your spine as you arch your back into him. “love seeing you like this, angel,” he praises too, nosing your cheek as you fall into another pitfall of pleasure— a symphony of your sweet moans playing on repeat. “so swollen and full, carrying my sweet baby. love how big you’ve gotten for me.” 

the silver words that slip from yoongi’s silver tongue have you throwing your head back, light perspiration licking at your skin as he takes the opportunity to ravish your neck once more. “got me so worked up, thinking bout those beautiful tits,“ his words start to slur as his free hand grips your breast squeezing them hard, so hard that you’re fearful they might start to leak. “can’t wait to taste that sweet milk, that you make for my baby. mine.” 

yoongi ends his sentence in a grunt, cock thrusting mercilessly into your weeping hole, as he takes you over and over. words barely form on your lips, drowned out by the sound of skin slapping on skin and the moans that urge each other on.  he drops his head to the junction between your neck and shoulder, hot breath tickling at your skin while you tug at his hair, his thick length pumping in and out of you, dragging you closer to the edge.

“yours, im all yours,” you whimper and clutch him closely as the tip of his cock brushes over that spot. tears spring in your eyes, yoongi’s hips rocking back and forth inside of you— the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter. “i’m so close, please yoongi—daddy.” 

he draws himself from your neck, pressing his forehead to yours once more as he mimics your pants, chest heaving with yours as you both draw to a close. 

“cum with me sweetheart, i’ve got you...d-daddy’s got you—“ his breathing stutters, the feeling of you clenching around him becoming too much for him to bare as his thrusts become sloppy. “let me pump you full of my seed, give you another baby—“ 

“ohgod, yoongi!” 

he pants out the last part, desperate to bring you to release. you know that his words are impossible, but the steer you on nonetheless, a blinding light flashing behind your eyes as a wave of goosebumps rise across the planes of your skin. you stumble into your orgasm, releasing onto his cock and fall into yoongi’s arms, spasming as he whispers cotton candy words into your ears while he chases after his own high.

“fuck baby, you’re so good for me, my beautiful girl.” he stammers out, tripping over his words as he fills you up with the seed of his orgasm. with trembling arms, yoongi collapses to your side, lips bright red and swollen, glass milk skin bruised and bitten. he looks beautiful like this, hair slightly frazzled from your exploring fingers as his chest rises and falls. he’s extraordinary. the executive shuffles, pulling you into his chest and kissing into your hairline with a small smile to his face. “you’re staring.” 

“i love you-“ you blurt, mind cleaning from the post orgasmic haze. you know that the words have been said already, before you tumbled into the sheets with the man beside you— but this time it feels different, feels more real. you love min yoongi with all that you have, from this nose scrunch when he laughs, to the creases between his brows when he concentrates, everything about him is something that you love. 

“i know,” he whispers, bumping your nose with his in an eskimo kiss. 

you blink back, lacing your fingers. “no yoongi, i’m in love with you—“

“i know,” yoongi chuckles, taking your hand in his before brushing his lips against your knuckles sweetly. “and i hope to god that the heavens know how much i’m in love with you.” 

nine months.

“strip.” 

he utters the command, simple— yoongi bends your will to suit him best. he loves having control over you, making you follow his every wish. you’re his little pet, and he’ll do with you as he pleases. shuffling, you pull off the his shirt that you wear— revealing that you’d gone bra less in favour for comfort. the executive let’s put a deep groan that has your nipples hardening just by the sound,  helpless whimper escaping your lips. 

“look at you baby, all swollen and leaking for me... daddy wishes he was there to punish you himself.” 

you pout heavily at his words, like you had when yoongi left two weeks into your third trimester for a three day business trip in the states. it was important, you knew that, he was finally closing the deal to debut The Red Label over there— he has big plans for the label and making you realise then, that your lover cared for the company more than you initially thought.  

“miss you, daddy,” you gasp, writhing under his gaze through the facetime camera— adjusting it so he could see your rising bump. “both of us do.” 

your third trimester was easier than expected, despite the aching feet and the constant desire to pee at the most inappropriate of times— the last few weeks of your pregnancy were on track to going well. your newfound boyfriend, yoongi, made sure to take care of you too, with sweet massages and passionate kisses, possessive touches to the waist and keeping your pregnancy hormones in check. 

ever since that night you couldn’t help but jump yoongi’s bones at any chance you got— not that he minded, he always said that being with you was like being together for the first time again. even if it was late nights before bed or five minutes before yoongi was due for a meeting, he still was tender with you, loving with you. he still loved you. 

your friends and family had instantly detected the shift in your relationship too, seokjin and namjoon giving your boyfriend the ‘you hurt my little sister and i’ll-“ talk. you know that they meant well, after all, who could imagine how far yoongi had come since the start of this all. he had begun your pregnancy as a disinterested asshole, who only cared for money or himself. he had no intent of bringing a child into the word but he really had stepped up since then, proven himself a worthy father to not just the baby, but yourself. 

“you look gorgeous, so round and full...” he whispers, tired eyes watching you through the screen. his milky skin reflects a warm orange hue from the hum of the hotel lights, his hair ruffled from the stresses of the day. you close your eyes, biting your lip as your boyfriend lets out an amused chuckle— shaking his head. “wanna fuck you good, keep you pregnant. love how you look carrying my baby.” 

“yoongi...”

“yes, sweetheart?” 

“please...”

your boyfriend tilts his head, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth before leaning back in his chair as if he’s deciding what to do with you next—you know that you’re at his mercy, even if you’re a thousand miles apart. “touch yourself for me...but don’t you dare cum until i say so.” the man before you tuts, grinning evilly. “start with your nipples, sweetheart, i know they’re sensitive.” 

you follow his words, keeping your eyes on his as you guide your fingers to your hardened buds— swirling them in circles with a quiet whimper, eliciting a similar sound from your lover abroad. “more...want more...” you gasp, feeling on edge from the stimulation. 

“go ahead angel, touch yourself like daddy would.”

following his voice, your finger tips drift across your skin with a feather light touch, nothing like yoongi’s— but it will do for now. slowly, you move your laptop onto the sheets, giving your lover a clear view of the flower you hide between your legs, watching him shiver at the sight of your glistening hole. with shaky breaths, you start to rub shy circles into your clit— drawing patterns and figures of eight just like yoongi would.  pleasure tingles at every tip and joint in your body, trickling through your veins as your wetness drips down your thighs, just from the thoughts of yoongi watching you. 

“eyes open for me sweetheart,” he reminds you, guiding you gently to push two fingers past your entrance. you thrash in the sheets, desperate for more, to touch what only yoongi could reach— your hips buck up involuntarily at the thought of his large hands spreading you apart, fingers curling as the walls of your cervix pulse hotly around him. “that’s a good girl, doing so well for me, hm?” yoongi praises you, leaning into the screen. 

“mhm, your good girl...” you respond breathlessly, pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy as you spasm and twitch with arousal. a beautiful mess is what yoongi would call it, your slick paints your thighs with a glossy essence— illuminating your skin as you curl your digits in search for that special spot. “god please please please!” you chant as yyour thighs shake with delight, the feeling only heightened by yoongi’s constant praise, your hips move desperately to catch up with your fingers that run at their own pace.

“slow down angel, don’t you wanna be good for daddy?”

you want to roll your eyes at your boyfriend, but knowing him— he’d only extended your punishment. “no,” you mumble, almost sternly, picking up the speed and curling your fingers, dragging them across your walls as you let out a high pitched squeal. “wanna cum.” 

yoongi pauses and that’s when you know that you have him wrapped around your finger. a few pleases here and there have him nodding in permission for you to cum. your whole body shakes with delectation while yoongi coaxed you through your orgasm— stars twinkling behind your eyes as your released splashed out and coats your fingers. 

“fuck baby, you did such a good job for me— put on such a pretty show for me...” the executive curses, shifting in discomfort. you can tell by the look on his face, parted lips and a crease between his brow, that he’s struggling to hold down his arousal. while left shaking and heavily pregnant, you some how manage to shift into a comfortable position— giving yoongi the puppy dog eyes. 

“did daddy cum too?” 

“no baby,” 

a beat of silence and a grin from you. “please daddy, wanna see you cum too...”

a broken moan escapees from the confines of yoongi’s cherry lips, making you hum in satisfaction from across the globe. within an instant, the position of your boyfriend’s camera has changed— tilted down so you can get a good view of his cock springing free from his tight grey joggers. yoongi fists his length, hissing at the sensitivity, he’s bond turned on at this point. his cock stands at full attention, bright red tip burning in desperation as clear precum oozes heavily from its centre. throwing his head back, he begins to pump his girth, thick and wide, which makes your mouth water at the thought of it filling you up and stretching you open again.

“cum for me, yoonie,” you whisper, he’s barely three or four strokes in— too pent up to wait any longer, you have no idea how long he’s been holding it for. yoongi cums then and there, chest heaving with his dark hair matted to his forehead. thick ropes of his hot seed coats his knuckles, a shade much paler than his own skin. 

you smile brightly when your lover comes to, busying yourself by pulling his shirt back over your head and inhaling its scent— firewood and pine, reminding you of him. yoongi smirks lazily as he uses a tissue to wipe up his mess before tilting the web cam up to his face for a better view, he chuckles deeply and shakes his head like before. “god, YN, the things you do to me,” he muses, rolling his eyes at your antics. 

you mirror his smile, pressing a kiss to the screen as if he was really there. “you love me.”

“i do, so much.” 

“and i love you, even more.”

although yoongi was meant to be returning today, you hadn’t been expecting any guests. 

the jingle of keys in the lock captures you’re attention, the re-run of ‘real house wives’ not doing anything to interest you. you weren’t expecting your lover for another few hours but perhaps this was his way of apologising for leaving so suddenly. yoongi had seemed stressed this morning when you called after your OB appointment, showing more pictures from your scans with dr. jihyo park— he’d shown little excitement towards the life you’d created together, which was highly unusual for him.

nonetheless, you adjust yoongi’s sweater around you and wrap your arms around your baby bump protectively, moving from your comfortable position in the depths of your couch in search of your lover. 

what you don’t expect, is the click of high heels against your marble floor.

what you least expect is the woman paired with them.

anyone with a pair of working eyes, or even less would know how beautiful of a woman she was. her skin was golden, dipped in honey and kissed by the gods of the above— unblemished and untouched. she had sharp features, cat like eyes, the colour of molasses paired with thick lashes and eyeliner that could cut diamonds. obsidian black and curled locks tumbled carelessly down her shoulders, framing her face perfectly whilst her ruby red dress hugged the dips and curves of her body— matching the blood red painted onto her lips. 

she was stunning. 

the stranger, however, seems too comfortable in your home. she knows exactly where to hang her keys and to put her jacket— she opens a letter that you know must be addressed to yoongi and simply tosses it aside as she struts through your home like she owns the place. it’s not until you’re standing out in the open for her to see, that she stops her actions, tilting her head into the air as if it’ll answer the questions in her puzzled mind.  

“i wasn’t aware that minmin had hired new staff, i’m joohee.” she introduces herself, clear voice echoing across the hall. 

you frown, rubbing your arm at her words. “who’s minmin?” 

“your boss? min yoongi.” joohee answers confusedly as she approaches you, handing you her luggage expectantly. a pitiful smile crosses her plump, devil lips as she eyes your bump— making your skin crawl and coddle it protectively. “you’re pregnant? how far along are you? such a shame that minmin didn’t give you any time off. his values can be pretty off-“ 

you drop joohee’s bag as you listen to her blabber, her voice becoming patronising and sickly to your ears. she looks as if she’s about to have her way with you, tear into you like a lost little lamb but you won’t dare be disrespected in your own home. “listen lady,” you seethe, hating that you look like the pregnant angry lady. “i don’t know who you are, or what business you have with my boyfriend but i am not the help. now if you don’t mind, i’d like you to leave my home before i cal” security.” 

the women before you lets her lips part with shock, quickly adjusting herself as if she’d been a doll in repair. her midnight eyes look you up and down while a cruel smirk as she takes her sunglasses from her air and toys with them between her perfectly white teeth. 

“ah, i see, yoongi’s been out to play while i’ve been away. you’d think he’d be loyal to his wife— wouldn’t you?” 

“w-wife?” you stammer, heart plummeting in your chest. you hadn’t noticed the diamond ring nestled comfortably on her ring finger— as if it had been there the whole time. 

joohee smiles again, one that could be on the front cover of vogue. “three years and counting, darling, who could have guessed.” her words are like bullets to the chest, taking you down one by one. your heart burns with an unfamiliar sensation— heartache? betrayal? you can’t tell. everything seems foggy, all lies with smoke and mirrors. you had to have known at some point that it was too good to be true. “some water, darling?” 

you shake your head at joohee, not realising the hand that claws at your throat. panic and pain crawl through your chest and hide in the ridges of your throat as you struggle to find the words to face the devil dressed in red satin. “no... i just, i just need a moment—“ you whisper, fiery tears burning in your eyes and threatening to scorch at the apples of your cheeks.

“take all the time you need, dearest.” 

you move swiftly from there, running to the nursery and grabbing the hospital bag you’ll need for the baby’s delivery before heading to yourself and yoongi’s shared bedroom. you stare at the room with disgust and hatred, you’d shared too many loving moments with this man for it to be true. he lied to you, lied to her most probably. 

you realise now that you were just another pawn in the game of chess called min yoongi.

through broken sobs, you manage to pack enough of your clothes to last you until you have time to come back. and so with trembling hands— you dial the phone and listen to it ring once before it picks up. 

“hello?” 

“seokjin?” 

“yes, YN— what’s wrong? are you... are you crying?” 

“please...come pick me up...” 

there are no more words as the line goes dead, a little piece inside of you— dying as well. 

yoongi had known something was off that night when he came home. a seventy-two hour stay in the states was more than exhausting— dealing with press and foreign interviewers who only wanted to hear about ‘american inspirations’ the debut collection. the executive had wanted to tell them proudly, that it had been you leading the design team, his YN but he stuck with his simple answers of gucci and dior to appease the crowd. all he wanted now, was to curl up with his darling girlfriend and their unborn child. 

except... something was off. 

the house had been dark when he came in, a new set of keys by the door and an unfamiliar suitcase. yoongi knew, if there was anything to go by, that you would have the hum of real house wives on and the smell of those salted kale chips he made you eat— wafting through the air. but instead, the sultry tones of old, familiar jazz oozed from his living room accompanied by the soft sounds of glass on glass and wine pouring. 

wine.

“where is she? you bitch.” yoongi never swore at a woman, his mother raised him better than that but he heated the way joohee leisured on his couch— the couch where he lay with you for countless nights— sipping at a bottle of red wine. “answer me!” 

joohee barely flinched at the raise in the dark haired male’s voice, simply choosing to pour another glass of the fruity liquid for the man himself. “she left minmin, who wouldn’t after finding out their little boy toy is married.” she teased, each word she spat like poison from were sweet lips. 

“divorced, joohee, fucking divorced.” he heaved. “what the fuck did you tell her?” 

“correction, divorcing and only what she needed to hear.” 

yoongi remembers how fast he’d moved across the room, slamming his fist down on the coffee table so hard that it had almost shattered the glasses. that time, joohee had jumped, never had she ever seen yoongi so mad, so angry. “get the fuck out, walk out of the door and out of my life. it’s what you’re fucking good at.” 

joohee left not a minute later, leaving yoongi alone in the dark of his home. your home. the home you were supposed to share with one another, build a life in. he hadn’t wanted that with joohee, not after she ruined him and broke what soul he had. you were the one to have brought min yoongi back to life, but now, he had lost you.

min yoongi hadn’t cried in a long time, but tonight would be the first since then. 

“YN...he’s calling again.” 

you look up briefly from folding freshly washed baby blankets and grows, to stare down at the phone that sits between yourself and yura before going back to the task at hand. 

“ignore it.” 

yura sighs, hitting decline before resuming her own activities— munching on the snacks yoongi had packed in your baby bag. ever since that night, seokjin had made sure you were guarded by at least one of your friends or family members. since you’d moved back in with him, either he or joon would watch you throughout the night, holding you while you cried your heart out. seokjin swore that the stress wasn’t good for the baby and that he’d  kill min yoongi if he ever saw the ‘fucker again’ but you couldn’t help it, the man that you loved so deeply, the one who’s child you carry lied to you and tore your heart in two. 

how could anyone lie about something like that?

moments pass before the phone rings again and you quickly reach over to hang up once more. “you really should talk to him YN. not for your sake but for the baby’s..” yura mumbles after a while, sucking the salt from her fingers as if she’s worried you’ll burst out mad at her. “maybe it’s not what you think—“ 

“how can it not be? he had a wife yura, he’s married! there’s no explanation for that!” you almost yell, clutching one of the grows to your chest tightly as if it’ll protect your heart. 

“but maybe—“ 

“stop trying to defend him!” 

“i’m not!” 

“then shut up, shut up because you don’t know anything.” you add sternly as your bottom lip starts to wobble, you breathe heavily trying to calm yourself down. the slight twinge in your lower belly doesn’t distract you from the pain in your heart. “you don’t know what it’s like to fall for someone like this, to think you have it all and then—“

yura looks at you patiently, one of her greatest traits. she didn’t lose her temper with you or fall into screaming matches when your hormones got the best of you. she may have been slightly ticked at you, but she knew better than to show it. “the what?” she comments, brow raising in interest. 

“nothing... i just, im sorry, i shouldn’t have yelled.” you bite your lip, putting down the small item of clothing and running a hand over your face. your roommate only shakes her head fondly, rubbing your shoulders, she knows this entire thing has been hard for you. you’d never planned to have a baby this early on in your life, you wanted big things and had major plans. 

and you gave it all up for yoongi. 

your friend smiles sadly, letting you go before heading to the doorway. “it’s okay, YN... i’ll give you some alone time.” 

she does just that, giving you room to breathe as a million thoughts and what ifs cross your mind. what if you’d never met yoongi? would you be the same person you are now, back then? would you want this? would you— a burning sensation spikes in your lower back, making you double over in pain, this hadn’t been like any pain you’d experienced before, nothing like the braxton hicks you’d been warned about. and then, there’s a light gush between your thighs— panic soaring in your chest. 

“y-yura-!” you gasp, steadying yourself on the nearest surface as the pain subsided unlike the fear and nerves that cloud your mind. “a-are you still there?” 

the girl scoffs playfully from the hallway, making herself known. “of course i am, i’m your babysitter remember? i wouldn’t actually leave you.” she mumbles, tone quietening as you whine with the next oncoming contraction. “YN...are you alright?” 

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping the dresser so hard your knuckles turn white with the force. “yura... i think— i think my water just broke...”

“oh shit.” 

this, this was pain. 

yura whispers praise into your hairline while nurses flurry in and out of your room— she’d called your brother not long ago who was on his way from his last shift at work. you didn’t want to be alone. “why, why did i go through with this?” you whine, hair plastered against your forehead with sweat. people are surrounding you, telling you to push and then not to, everything is too overwhelming and all you want is the baby out of you. 

everything that could possibly go wrong, was going wrong. an ambulance had been unable to pick you up from your brother’s home, the delivery plan having been registered to yoongi’s house— meaning that your roomate had to drive you all the way to hospital herself, getting lost on the way. now you were being wheeled through the hell hole, on the way for your delivery.

“because you wanted this baby and you wanted it him?” yura suggests, squeezing your hand tightly— only wincing when you squeeze it back with the start of a contraction. “would now be a bad time tell you that i called yoongi?” 

“you what?” you screech, barely having time to be mad as another wave of pain hits burns at your waist. god, did you even think this part through? you barely register the door opening, another presence instantly by your side. your body responds naturally , calming in response to the man that’s now beside you. 

yoongi grips hand, and if you weren’t in so much pain you would have torn away— your heartbeat ceasing in your but you know that you need him here. the time to talk will be later. “im sorry,” he mumbles quietly as they prepare you for the delivery room. “im sorry i did this to you, that i hurt you and i know that you don’t want me here right now, but im not going anywhere. not when you need me.” 

curling in on yourself at the student wave on pain, you take a chance and stare up into his eyes— searching for the truth, for an answer. “okay,” you breathe, unsure of what you’ve uncovered behind yoongi’s dark eyes. “okay, lets do this.” 

the executive nods at the nurses to make a move for the private delivery rooms he’d booked earlier on in your pregnancy. he squeezes your hand with a promise to yura that he’d take care of you, while you brought new life into the world. 

“she’s waiting for you, y’know.” 

yoongi doesn’t dare to look up, choosing to focus on the scuff on his shoes as a distraction from the conversation that is to come. it’s been hours, three or four, since the delivery— the birth of his child smooth sailing from the moment he took your hand but through all the screaming and cursing at him, yoongi couldn’t help but think of what he had lost. a family, a life with you. 

but now, your room was packed with the family you had built before him, namjoon cradling you’re infant in his arms as yura cooed away— playing with tiny fingers. the executive didn’t feel like he belonged, like he didn’t deserve to be in there with you. 

seokjin clears his throat with a roll of his shoulders before taking a seat next to the latter. as much as your brother despised yoongi, he knew in his heart that you were meant to be together. he’d seen you both grow from cold, isolated human beings into the warmth that a child needed to be in the world. seokjin would do this for you. for you and the baby. 

“look,” the elder starts, elbows on his knees to support himself as he rubs his hands together, ordering over his next choice of words. “i never liked you, i knew that you’d break her somehow—“ yoongi scoffs, cutting the other kim sibling off, as the words nick his heart. “— but i also know that she gave a lot up for you because she loves you. that mother in there, YN, is going to need all the help she can get and christ be damned that i’m going to give it to her but that baby... that baby is going to need a father. so either you step up and prove to her that you’re still in this or you take your leave now.” seokjin warns, this time— sparing a dark glare to a now intimidated min yoongi. “because the last thing they now need, is another let down.” 

the executive blinks, taking a moment to ponder your brother’s words. “i understand, thank you.” 

seokjin nods, moving into your room to round up your family— giving yoongi the space he needs to explain himself to you. when he enters, you have the baby swaddled in your arms with a look that says it all. that your entire world is right here with you. a look that makes yoongi fall in love with you all over again. 

“he’s beautiful,” you whisper, having heard the male come in— sparing him a short glance before looking back down at your baby, afraid that if you look away for too long, he’ll disappear. “don’t you think?”

the dark haired man can’t help but nod, approaching you slowly to admire his son— a small little thing with beautiful eyes to match your own and a head full of curls, just as dark as yoongi’s. “we made a beautiful little thing.” he comments, leaning down to brush his thumb over little min’s cheek. yoongi looks up, not realising how you watch him with tenderness, this was how it was supposed to be. “YN...i-“

“yoongi.” you breathe, turning back to focus on your baby. 

“i’m sorry, i should have told you— about joohee— about my marriage with her, which is over by the way...” yoongi hates how you flinch at the mention of his ex, reaching out to grab your hand. he breathes a sigh of relief when you don’t pull away like he expected you too. “we’re getting a divorce.” 

you gasp, all of your emotions flying at you at once. joohee had failed to mention that fact to you, something you might have heard if you’d heard yoongi out. “but she said—“ 

“i was with her a long time ago, back when i was working in daegu and she changed. the industry changed and she did too. joohee became manipulative and rude and—“ the executive closes his eyes, taking a moment to reflect. he’d never opened up about this before, but he needed you to understand...maybe forgive him. he needed to be in his child’s life. “and we weren’t working anymore, giving each other what we needed. i wanted white pickett fences, a dog, a family but she wanted all the money in the world and i couldn’t give her that.” he breathes, and you squeeze his hand. “but i met you at that party where i felt so free,”

his words come out as jumbled, becoming a ramble causing you to shake your head and grip the man’s wrist tighter. “yoongi.” 

“and then this happened and  i knew that i wanted all of that with you and our son and i’m so sorry that i put you through all of that pain, for not telling you—“

“min yoongi—“

“and i just miss you so much that it hurts, i want to be with you...”

“god min yoongi just shut up and kiss me!” you repeat your words from early on, using the hand that held his to pull him closer, pressing his lips against yours in a forgiving kiss. you pour all of your words and emotions into the movement of your lips against his, your love, your pain, your passion. you love him, you do— with all your heart and soul, the pair of you being mindful of the baby between you as you hold each other near and dear. “i-i love you,” you stammer, pressing your forehead against his. yoongi smiles, lips hovering over your own, he’s about to lean in for another kiss when your little boy gurgles between you. “and i love you too baby.” 

“does he have a name yet?” 

“i was waiting for you...”

yoongi smiles, letting your baby boy wrap his tiny fingers around his own. your body lights up with joy, if someone had told you— nine months ago, that you would end up with the worlds most beautiful baby boy, a man that you loved and a family that supported you... you would have laughed but now you’ve seen, that sometimes life has unexpected twists, good and bad. 

but luckily for you, you’d had a good one. “joonwoo,” your lover hums, kissing the top of your babies head before giving you the very same kiss. “that should be his name.” 

“joonwoo, meaning protection,” you mumble in a wordless agreement, observing your family. joonwoo had been a name you picked out with yoongi one night during the early stages of your pregnancy—you were surprised that he’d even remembered.  “it’s perfect.” yoongi would have your white pickett fences, your dog and your family home but for now, you would enjoy the moment— enjoy the time with your boys and wait for what the future would hold. 

you couldn’t wait to see where you’d be in another nine months from now. 

“ahaha! look, they’re kissing! what did i tell you guys? thats twenty bucks… each!” taehyung exclaims happily, removing his face from the glass as he watches the happy family through it. jimin only rolls his eyes from behind his lover, arms aching slightly from the abundance of gifts he holds in them. 

yura rolls her shoulders, having half a mind to shove the blue haired male over but she knows you’d give her an earful if she did. “fuck you,” she groans as she passes over the cash.

“i do that already!” jimin chirps from behind. 

that’s when seokjin sweeps in, taking the money from taehyung with a happy smile. much to the disdain of the latter. “but i called it! he’s a boy.” the elder smirks, counting the bills. taehyung pouts in response, clinging to his boyfriend who only rolls his eyes at the group’s antics. 

“but y’all are forgetting, the most important thing...” namjoon adds, taking the money from seokjin and smirking smugly at the shocked faces he receives. “i won the bet cus they’re getting married.”  the brunette reveals in a sing song tone, pulling the ring box that yoongi entrusted him with. namjoon only chuckles as the group descends into chaos.

this baby was in for one hell of a family.

⇢ author’s note(s): thank you all so much for reading!! please let me know what you think and have a wonderful day or night <3

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate the way you’re always right

Hey y’all, here’s the next part! Sorry it’s been a hot minute, but I hope you like this! Here’s a little bit of soft smut again ??? idk who knows.

As always, this is unedited and probably riddled with types so point em out, leave em be, I’ll probably edit this tomorrow once I’m out of class knowing me but hey, somethings never change.

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

_________

“You don’t know what I mean.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

---------------

“On a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you?” Evelina asks, throwing herself down on your bed. The sound of the springs of your mattress makes you jump, no thanks to the nerves you didn’t want to be experiencing. 

You had been pacing your room for at least an hour, trying to figure out what to wear, how to do your hair and makeup, thinking about what was going to happen tonight. None of you should be nervous about going out with Matthew: the two of you go out together just the two of you all the time. You’re almost always with him when he’s in Calgary, give or take Evelina or Elias. So what about tonight was different?

Well, for starters, the last few times you’ve spent time alone together you were doing more than just hanging out. Why did you have to kiss him, or sleep with him, or fuck, even like him? 

“I’ll give myself a two,” you lie to her, walking to your closet to find shoes. 

She sits up, her eyebrows raised. “Babe, you’ve been walking the runway for the last hour. Gigi Hadid doesn’t strut this much but at least she gets paid for it.” 

‘Fuck her for being right,’ you think to yourself. “How’s a seven sound?” You hear her scoff, before finally sitting down next to her. “Why am I nervous?” you whine. 

She shrugs, shaking her head. “Because it’s Matthew. 

“It’s not like Matthew’s changed, though.”

“No, but you and Matthew have. You at least finally realized you like each other, and that messes with things.” 

You look down at your hands, covered with pen ink from work that day that was seemingly impossible to get off with any type of soap you had in the apartment. “What if this ruins everything?” you ask quietly, starting to feel overly emotional at the thought of losing him. 

“If you do you still have me,” she jokes, clearly not helping. “Come on. It’s Matthew. You’ve always meant the world to him. There is nothing you can do that would cause you to lose him.” 

“I hope you’re right,” you say, not looking at her. 

She pulls you up off the bed, twirling you around so she can get a full look at the dress you were in. It was one of hers, an open-backed red halter dress that came just above your knees, paired with nude heels. Simple, but elegant enough that Matthew would spend the entire night thinking about how good you look with it both on and off. “You look amazing. What time is he picking you up?”

“He should be here any minute,” you tell her, feeling yourself start to shake at how nervous you were for this. Evelina was probably right: it’s Matthew, it’s always been Matthew, and what could possibly happen that would mean you could lose him?

The two of you leave your room, grabbing your bag and your phone on your way out. You can hear the locks of the front door turning, sending a chill down your spine knowing that it was Matthew on the other side. 

“You’ll be fine,” Evelina whispers quickly as Matthew opens the door to let him in. 

Assuming you were still in your room, he starts to call, “Hey, I’m-” he cuts himself off when he lays his eyes on you. He swallows hard at the sight of you trying to find anything to say other than the “Wow,” he lets out. 

Seeing him calmed you down immediately. He had on a black button-down with black pants. It was simple, just like yours, but fuck did he look good. “Wow, yourself,” you tell him, pulling a laugh from his lips. 

He goes in to kiss you, suddenly becoming very aware that Evelina was right behind you, bouncing up and down like a child. “Ev? We’re good,” he says, hoping that it would give her the signal to leave them alone. 

“Have her home by nine, young man,” Evelina points at him, slowly backing away but refusing to break eye contact.

“Nine a.m., got it!” he says, taking you by the hand and leading you as Evelina changes course and starts to follow you.

“Wear a condom!” she yells down the hall, you and Matthew practically running away from her.

You stop in your tracks, gasping even if you were only kind of shocked that she would actually say that. “Ev!” 

“Love you!” she practically screams, slamming the door as the elevator opens.

“I can’t believe she just yelled ‘wear a condom’ down the hall! The guys next door must have loved that. Mrs. Rose is probably throwing up at the thought of premarital sex,” you start to ramble as the doors close on you and Matthew, your hands on your cheeks pulling your eyes open a little more.

He laughs, pulling you close to him, his warm hands against your back, you draping your arms on his shoulders.  “You can’t be that shocked she would say that.” He dips his head down to kiss you, finally saying hello the way he wanted to, his forehead pressed against yours as a lazy smile covers his face, “Hi, Mercury.” 

“Hi,” you whisper, wishing you had something like that to call him. Something that meant he drove you as crazy as you apparently drove him. “And no, I’m not shocked. But I guarantee that you’re going to have to wear one tonight,” you tease him.

“If that’s what you want,” he whispers, planting a kiss on the top of your head. 

Of course, that was what you wanted. He pulls away when the elevator door opens, leading you to his car. He doesn’t drop your hand until he opens the passenger side door for you. “What a gentleman,” you gush at him, half teasing him, half swooning over the simple action.

“Only for you,” he says, connecting with your lips as you try to sit down. Apparently, he couldn’t stop kissing you either. Not that you were complaining about it. You drive through the city in silence, his hand on your thigh while he drove, your hand placed over his. You stole glances at him every once in a while, the moonlight and streetlights dancing off his jawline, his eyes shining whenever light hit them. God, he looked so good. You didn’t see the glances he took at you, your enjoyment as you watched the city alive around you, watching people walk hand in hand down the street, laughing, smiling, enjoying life. 

You get to the restaurant, him rushing over to help you out of the car before you even have the chance to try to get out yourself. This was so different from the Matthew you knew a few weeks ago. 

The two of you are seated at a table in the corner, able to look at everyone around you. You sit in silence, but it’s not weird like you thought it would be. You look up from your menu to see Matthew staring at you smiling. “What?” you ask him as he reaches across the table for your hand. Why didn’t this feel weird? What about this made it feel so, you don’t know, so right?

“I’m just,” he starts, debating on whether or not he should say what he wants, “I’m just happy,” he settles on, not taking his eyes off you as a smile shows on your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

“Who woulda thought you’d be soft for a girl, Rat Man?” you tease him.

He runs his tongue across his upper lip, sucking in a deep breath before letting out, “Only for you, Y/N.” 

The two of you settle into mundane conversation after the waitress comes and takes your drink orders, the same sexual teasing ones that you would have with him before this whole thing started. 

“Oh, come on, you’ve always found me hot. Don’t act like you never thought about what it would be like if I pinned you against the wall every time you saw me,” he teases you.

“I think you were at your most attractive when you were far away from me.” 

“So, even when I wasn’t around you still couldn’t get me out of your mind.” 

You roll your eyes, hating that he was right. You thought about this boy a lot more than you would like to admit. “I can only think about how much I hate about you,” you say without thinking, biting the inside of your cheek.

You swear he swallows hard, taking a moment to compose himself. He hated the thought of you still writing out that list. He needed to ask Evelina how far into you were given that you had two more weeks to finish it. But he was already taking you out on a date, so is the list even worth it? Before he can send himself into a downward spiral, he says, “And yet, you’re still sitting across from me on a date.” 

He watches you look down at the table, trying to hide the smile you couldn’t help but flash. “You got me there.” 

The waitress returns with your food, both of you falling silent as you ate. Matthew couldn’t help but study your every movement, from how delicately your hands wrapped around your utensils. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the ink covering you, on your pinky from the way you drag your hand across the page, the random dots and streaks of ink on your nails and everywhere, probably from the way you twirled it in your fingers, knowing that you drop your pen more often than you’re able to keep in your hands the way you fidget with it. He was amazed by how he could watch you for this long without you even realizing it, so wrapped up in the scene around you while you watched with amazement. He couldn’t believe that this was finally happening, that he was there with you. 

The people around you were laughing, talking, enjoying the company of the person across from them. It felt so weird to be one of those people who could do that. You never thought you would find yourself in a situation where the person across from you would be Matthew. “Oh, I know what I wanted to tell you!” you say, breaking the silence between you, “Ev and I are going to be in LA the weekend you’re playing the Kings for a conference.” 

“So you being out with me is just a ploy to get free tickets?” he smirks. He was going to get you the tickets, even if you didn’t want them. 

“I mean, what else are you good for?” you ask as he takes your hand in his, putting it to his lips. 

You go back to eating, both of you with one hand available. You try not to go crazy when he rubs his thumb along your knuckles, tracing a circle around each one before moving to the next, back and forth across your hand. You’re interrupted in your fixation on his touch by a woman screaming with joy, the man across from her down on one knee proposing. You can’t help but smile at the happiness she was radiating, Matthew watching you instead, not realizing you were picturing yourself being proposed to at that moment. You couldn’t make out the face of the man on one knee in front of you in your mind, but something about the wild hair gave you a good idea of who it was.

Why the hell were you even thinking about that? You didn’t even think you loved this boy, let alone picturing marrying him?  

The two of you start clapping along with everyone else when she says yes, a forced smile covering your face as you try to calm yourself from the internal freakout that was manifesting. You look across the table to Matthew, his eyes wider than normal, his lips in a thin line. 

Before you can ask him what’s wrong, Matthew cuts in, “I can’t believe he just did that.” 

“What?” you ask him, slightly shocked. 

“Uh, I mean,” he starts, not sure where he was going. He could feel his face getting hot. That’s not how he would have proposed to you. ‘Wait a minute,’ he thinks to himself, ‘proposing to Y/N?’ When did he even start thinking about something like that? He could feel his breath get shorter, trying to figure out what to say. You see him getting restless, reaching over to take his hand in yours, whatever panic that was forming in him instantly going away. “It’s just weird to do it in a restaurant, you know? Surrounded by a bunch of strangers instead of the people you love.” 

You don’t know why, but your entire body tensed up at that word. Matthew keeps talking, but you don’t hear him. You look over to the couple, smiling over their news. She was crying, unable to stop herself from admiring the ring and the man she just committed her entire life to. You weren’t sure how long you had been staring, only snapping out of the trance you fixed yourself in when you felt Matthew pulling you up from the table. 

“Are you alright?” he asks you, leading you back to his car. Something in his voice had changed, the soft, sweet tone from earlier not entirely gone, but some of it was missing. 

“Yeah,” you lie to him, “I think the food is just starting to bother my stomach.”  

“Oh, uh,” he says, dropping your hand once you get to the car, his hand lingering on the handle of the passenger side door. “I guess I’ll drop you back at your place then?” he asks, running his free hand through his hair. 

You recoiled slightly at his words, not wanting to go home, but there you were. “Yeah, sure,” you say, ducking into the seat. 

The two of you ride in silence, this time uncomfortable in complete contrast to driving there. He pulls up to your building, neither of you moving from your seats. What the hell happened? Did the idea of marrying him freak you out so much that you ruined your date with him? “So, uh,” he starts, “I’ll see ya?” he asks.

You don’t pull your gaze away from your hands in your lap, biting the inside of your cheek as you nod. This was supposed to be a great night for you two. Why did that guy have to propose? It was really all his fault when you think about it. You feel Matthew’s hand grazing your jaw, his thumb tracing your cheekbone before pulling you close to him for his lips to connect with yours. You pull away, your foreheads pressed against each other, an awkward smile covering both your faces. Without another word, you get out of his car to go up to your place. 

He watches you walk away, letting out a groan. “Fucking hell,” he mutters to himself, pulling away once you get in the door.

-----------

“So it was bad?” Evelina asks, lying down on your bed next to you. You finally opened up to her about the disastrous date last night, from your freak out to ending with Matthew dropping you off at home instead of spending the night together. 

You let out a heavy sigh, your phone vibrating with texts from your boss about preparing for the conference. “Fuck, is he bothering you this much about this presentation?” you change the subject quickly. 

“Nope. Not a word from him since he said we were going. That’s not important right now.”

You let out another groan, not sure really what other noise to make. Words couldn’t describe how frustrated you were by the night you thought was going to be great. “It wasn’t,” you cut yourself off, tossing your phone aside and covering your face with your hands. “It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t what I wanted it to be.” 

She turns over on her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you. “And you haven’t heard from him since last night?” Through your fingers you can see the expression she has on her face, scrunched up almost as if she was pitying you. 

Your phone buzzes, both of you lurching to see if it were him. Instead, it was your boss again. “Fuck this,” you say, throwing the phone on the floor. “I want it to be Matthew. It’s not like him not to text me all day.” 

“He left this morning for Winnipeg where they went right to practice and then to their game,” she tells you, relaying the message Elias probably gave her at some point. It still didn’t make you feel better. The game was over by now and you didn’t even know how it went. You thought he would have at least texted you, sent you a picture without context, something so you would know he didn’t hate you after last night. 

“He’ll text you. They’re probably still getting changed from the game,” Evelina tries to reassure you. “Do you want me to stay here or do you want to be alone?” 

You think about it, not sure how much good her company would do at this point. “I’m fine alone,” you decide, pulling out your laptop to find something to watch. She leaves you alone, your phone buzzing constantly with texts. After an episode of Gossip Girl, you finally check your phone to see a string of texts, all but one from your boss.

You let out a sigh of relief when you see Matthew’s message buried amongst those from your boss.

‘I’ve missed you, pretty girl. What are you up to?’

You could your heart racing for whatever reason as you tried to figure out what to respond with, your boss's name coming up again and again wondering why you weren’t answering him. ‘Moping, why?’

‘What’s wrong Mercury’

‘Work is a bitch’

You see the three dots appear and disappear from your screen. You stare at your phone, wondering why he wasn’t answering you when an incoming Facetime call shows up from him. Answering faster than you should, you felt relieved to finally see his face even if you had seen him the night before. “What happened to your cheek?” you ask immediately, referencing the noticeable gash that covered the right side of his face.

“I got the butt end of Johnny’s high stick at practice today,” he says, moving through what you assumed was his hotel.

“He probably did it on purpose, right?” you ask, a smirk on your face. You can hear his laugh echo through the hallway, the click of his door unlocking as he threw himself on his bed. “What were you doing?” 

“The guys and I were down at the bar in the lobby.”

“Oh, did you guys win today?”

He stares at you for a second, a brief moment in which you can’t read him. “You only pay attention to me when it’s convenient for you, don’t you?” he teases you, a smile growing on his face with every word. 

You let out a laugh, the memory of last night fading away. “My boss has been texting me nonstop about the work I’ve already gotten done, so I’m trying not to look at my phone.” You shift your attention away from your camera, knowing, not looking at Matthew for what you were about to say. “You know I always pay attention to you, Matthew,” you let out quietly, looking off to the side. 

He smiles at your words, letting out a sigh of relief. This list had to be over. There was no way you could still be writing it. “We did win. Shut them out. We were downstairs celebrating before we hit the road in the morning.” 

“Why aren’t you still with them! Go be with the guys!” you insist.

Matthew scoffs, shaking his head. “Nah, something was wrong with you. I had to make sure you were alright.”

“You left the guys for me?”

“I would leave anyone if it means making sure you’re ok.” You melt at his words, never thinking that he would be able to say something that would make you feel how you did. You missed him. You wished he was there with you. Before you can say anything, he starts, “I know how I can make you happy: tell me something. That always works.”

That always makes him happy.

“How about Dante’s circles of Hell so we can figure out which one my boss belongs in?” you joke, pausing the call briefly to finally respond to your boss to say that everything he had already texted you about asking you to do was finished and in his email. 

“I know about them but I like hearing you talk,” he says, a smile on his face. His end goes completely silent, no background noise, nothing, as if he had muted you. 

You try to recall the nine circles, starting to ramble in hopes it would jog your memory. “Dante Alighieri wrote the Italian poem between the years 1308 and 1320, the year before his death. It’s considered the first work written in the Italian vernacular, the Tuscan dialect, thus leading scholars to believe that this work is the reason why ‘formal Italian’ is Tuscan. He wrote it three parts, 100 cantos total, each canto with 33 lines: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso.”

You finally hear him again, his chest moving up and down rapidly, the camera shaking in his hand. “It’s so sexy when you speak in another language. Tell me about Hell,” he lets out, clearly out of breath from what you couldn’t see going on beyond the camera. 

You start, your mind suddenly flashing back to that day at the package store, roaming through the aisles of alcohol with his hands leaving a burning touch on your body. “The first circle is Limbo. It’s where the unbaptized and virtuous pagans go. It’s like having a tv and only getting a channel like C-SPAN on every station,” you tell him, waiting for his response. His mouth is open slightly, no sound coming from him. You close your eyes, thinking of his hand in your back pocket that day, the way his fingers tensed on your ass. 

You swallow hard, your breath getting slightly shallow as you continue. “The second circle is,” you stop, knowing that you would be right in this circle as you extended your free hand down. You knew exactly what he was doing the same thing, his eyes closing every now and then, the camera shaking as you thought about his body against yours the night after the charity event. “Is lust. Anyone controlled by their hormones.”

His eyes snap open, his voice shaking as you finally hear him again: “I guess we’ll go to the second circle together?” You bite your lip, nodding at him. “Third circle,” he demands, going back to his work as he thought you in the black dress, fitting your form perfectly, every thread, every stitch, waiting to be ripped off you.

“Gluttony: habitual greed or excessive eating, especially at the expense of others,” you tell him. You think about that dry-fit shirt he wore, every muscle he had accented in the fabric as your other hand moved faster. His camera was shaking, his chest moving up and down rapidly. Part of you was surprised he hadn’t gotten there yet. “Circle four is greed: hoarding money, and goods.”

  “Five,” he chokes out, a moan following that he cut off by muting himself. 

“Five was,” you say, gasping, “Five was anger, spending their time in hell waging war against each other.” Your eyes screw shut, hoping you could get through four more. “Unmute yourself,” you demand of Matthew.

His eyes practically pop out of his head. “Unmute yourself,” you tell him again, slowly, each syllable emphasized as he watched your eyes get ever so slightly darker. He nods, doing as you ask, now able to hear his heavy breathing. “Six was heresy,” you let out, low and slow.

Matthew gasps, getting up a little as a signal that he was finished, despite you having more circles to go through. “Don’t move yet,” you say to him, not wanting him to until you could. “Those in that circle believe in religions other than Dante’s: Christianity. Seven is violence, divided further into three levels: murderers, suicide victims, and blasphemers.” You can practically feel the memory of his lips as they would have been connecting with your body, right behind your ear. 

“Tell me circle eight, pretty girl,” Matthew whispers, a lazy smile on his face as you get close to your climax. The sight of him your first night together, every inch of him as he entered you for that perfect night.

“Eight is,” you try to get out. You stop, feeling nothing and everything going through your body as you practically scream out, “Fraud.” You look at him, trying to steady your breath even though he could see your chest rising and falling as rapidly as his was before, a smile covering his face. “Nine is treachery. A frozen wasteland where those doomed to that final circle spend eternity with Satan himself. 

You both sit there in silence, catching your breath. You see Matthew finally able to adjust himself, a small laugh escaping his lips at the mess that was over the once pristine sheets. He smirks, happy that you could hear each other for the last bit, neither of you guessing you were thinking of the other the entire time.  “I told you I could make you happy, huh?” 

You take in a deep breath, trying to stabilize yourself, getting up to change quickly. “I would be happier if I didn’t have to do it myself,” you tease him. 

“Trust me: I would do anything to be there with you right now.” 

You smile at him, letting out a yawn. “I’m gonna go to bed, babe,” you say, slightly recoiling at the idea of calling him babe. “Talk to you tomorrow?” 

He nods. “I-” you start to hear him say, accidentally cutting him off by hanging up just too soon. He couldn’t have been saying much, but you send him a text saying sorry for it. “Love you,” he breathes out, wishing you heard him finally say how he felt about you.

[strange-lace]

I'm gonna toss a Nagi and anyone else you want to have them written with prompt request! Angst 47/37.

The fact that y’all enable this ship means so much to me. Content warning for description of facial injuries but that’s about it. Enjoy!

“You deserve so much better.” / “Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

They had a strange relationship, her and Macaque. Originally, they simply found comfort in each other, both being shadows that feel abandoned and left to rot in the darkness. She could understand his pain and that led to her reaching out, welcoming him into her cave and her home so that he could have one. It was a process, one that required patience on her part but she hadn’t survived this long in the world without learning the beauty in waiting and taking things in baby steps. As much as she knew Macaque would hate the comparison, to Nagi it was almost like when Sandy would help feral cats get adjusted to his home.

To Nagi, the back and forth was worth it in the end when she found Macaque curled up in one of her softest pillows and looked genuinely at peace. She made no comment and instead draped a blanket over his form as gently as possible to avoid waking him up.

And like that, Macaque always found excuses to keep coming back much to her joy.

Yet reality decided to give Nagi an unfortunate reminder that not too differently from Sun Wukong, the Six-Eared Macaque had made himself many enemies that could sniff out weakness like blood to pirahnas.

And despite what they thought, she had been ready for them.

“Hey Gigi, you ho-” Macaque froze by the entrance of the cave, shocked at the state of the but more importantly, the state of Nagi. She was surrounded by crumpled bodies in various states of unconsciousness or paralysis, their eyes a hazy mixture of gold and wine red. The snake demon herself was barely standing with numerous injuries littering her body. The most gruesome was a slash across her face which started through her right eyebrow and ended at her left cheek, splitting her face.

Yet that didn’t stop her from immediately greeting him with a gentle smile the moment her mismatched eyes caught sight of him.

“Ah Mac! I apologize the place is such a… mess. Some riffraff had decided to visit me so unexpectedly and I hadn't had the chance to tidy up before you showed up.”

And then Nagi collapsed.

After that, it was all a blur of panic for Macaque as he had his shadows dispose of the unconscious or hypnotized demons, it didn't matter how, as long as they were far away from the cave. Meanwhile Macaque himself frantically worked on patching up Nagi’s wounds, doing his best to remain calm and failing miserably. It made him somewhat relieved that she wasn’t awake, otherwise she’d likely be trying to calm him down when she was the one bleeding out.

By the time Nagi’s eyes sluggishly opened, he had been through the worst of his anxiety and her wounds were bandaged up.

“Hey Mac. Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that, you idiot. You could have died from your wounds if I hadn’t showed up.” Nagi remained unapologetic to an infuriating degree as she looked at him. Or at least, that’s what he assumed as he had to bandage a majority of her face to keep the slash across it free from infection or further bleeding.

“They wanted to hurt you by hurting me, I simply couldn’t let that happen.”

“But it did! You got hurt because of me and the enemies I’ve made… You deserve better than this. Then me.” A light smack on his cheek by Nagi’s snake tail stopped him and his spiral of self-loathing. Despite the ache of her wounds, she reached up to gently cup his cheeks to make him look her in the eyes.

“Nonsense. I knew what I was getting into. Life is not without its risks Mac and I do not regret taking the risks if it meant getting to… know you.”

He didn’t even know what to say to that.

“Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

“I am not lying when I say that I will be okay and I intend on staying by your side. You’re not getting rid of me so easily after all. You’re stuck with me after all the moment you decided to fall asleep in my cave.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[missjanjie]

Taste of a Poison Paradise | Chapter 9

Title: Taste of a Poison Paradise Summary: Life at Jackie Cox’s strip club, Poison Paradise, isn’t just lapdances and g-strings. There’s enough drama, lust, and heartache to rival any soap opera. None of the girls know what to expect on any given shift, especially while navigating their torrid, complicated relationships. Word Count: ~2.9k (this chapter) / ~27.2k (total) Relationship(s): Lemyanka (Lemon/Priyanka), Crygi (Crystal Methyd/Gigi Goode), Sportsdoll (Jan Sport/Nicky Doll), Jaidie (Jaida Essence Hall/Jackie Cox), BVK (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo/Kameron Michaels), Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx) Rating: E TW: mentions of alcoholism

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: In the wake of Lemon's outburst at the club, those closest to her process the fallout and realize something needs to be done before she spirals to the point of no return.

-

“Okay, I think that’s the last box,” Juice remarked as she dropped herself down onto the couch. “So, why’d your cousin kick you out again?”

Lemon scoffed and rolled her eyes as she piled up the empty boxes. “She didn’t kick me out, we both decided it was time for me to move.” She decided her college friend-turned-roommate didn’t need to know about the argument she had with Rosé. And she certainly didn’t need to know that she’d rejected her ultimatum of, “if you want to stay here, you can’t keep getting drunk every day.” It had been a week since the incident at the club and she was going to recover from it on her own terms.

“Alright, cool,” she shrugged as she took out her phone and began aimlessly scrolling. “You wanna do something tonight?”

The blonde perched herself on the armrest of the couch, swinging her legs. “We could go to a club and get shitfaced,” she suggested.

Juice shook her head without looking up from her phone. “You can. I mean, I’ll totally go with you and turn shit up, but I don’t drink.”

“More for me.”

Her friend looked her over with a concerned expression, eyes finally pried away from the screen. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “I mean, I know you’ve been through a lot, have you considered talking to someone about it?”

Lemon shook her head. “I’m fine, I don’t have the emotional capacity for therapy.” She got back up and looked around. “Shit, I guess you don’t have any liquor in here then. I’ll be back,” and after putting her shoes on and grabbing her purse, she was out the door, leaving a concerned new roommate in her wake.

------

Rosé sighed as she passed the joint back to Mik. “This doesn’t make me a bad person, right? I mean the last thing I want to do is make Lemon’s issues about me. But god, that really is what made me realize that I have to do this.”

Mik shook her head as she took a hit. “It’s not your fault, you saw a trainwreck and realized you needed to keep your ass on the tracks.” She finished off the joint and put it out. “Listen, the last thing you wanna do is be that girl who pines over the person she’s sleeping with until it’s too late.”

“You’re right, I know. I’m gonna talk to her,” she exhaled deeply as she pushed herself up. “If Lemon comes around, please don’t have sex with her.”

“Oh fuck off,” she huffed, “that delayed her mental breakdown by at least a week.”

Rosé rolled her eyes as she left. She wasn’t mad at Mik for that, if anything maybe it did help Lemon temporarily by giving her a distraction. But she had so much more on her mind, things that have been brewing since the club incident.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked on Denali’s door, evening out her breathing while she waited for her.

“Hey Rosie,” Denali smiled warmly as she opened the door, leading her inside and shutting it behind them. “What’s up? You usually text me when you’re on your way over.” They sat down on the couch as she spoke, a tinge of concern in her voice.

She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “I know I’ve been distant lately with everything that’s been happening with Lemon. But through all the chaos, I realized something, that keeping your feelings bottled up is dangerous.” Another deep breath, this time she forced herself to look into Denali’s eyes, eyes that she found warmth and comfort in every time she gazed into them. “What I’m trying to say is that I have feelings for you. I don’t just wanna be fuck buddies, it’s not enough. I need all of you.”

Denali blinked, taking her time to process Rosé’s confession. At first it was pure surprise, but once she let it sink in, it clicked that she felt the same way, that she had been falling for her all along without realizing it. “You have all of me,” she told her, cupping her face and pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

In that moment, a weight lifted from Rosé’s chest. If only for the duration of a kiss, she could pretend nothing in the world existed outside of Denali’s apartment. She could stop thinking, stop worrying. It was only them, everything else faded to black. “Are we alone?” she asked against her lips.

“Mhm,” she nodded, a slight smirk tugging at her lips, able to fill in the blanks from there. Her hands traveled down Rosé’s body, tugging off her shirt in one swift motion, her own following suit, though they took their time undressing each other, letting their fingers and lips gently caress each other’s skin.

By the time they were both completely undressed, they had gotten each other thoroughly worked up. Rosé had Denali sit up on the couch, then got on her knees in front of her, pushing her thighs apart. She moved in between them, dragging her tongue along her pussy before circling, then sucking on her clit as she eased a finger into her.

Denali’s head lolled back to rest against the back of the couch, a pleased moan escaping. “Mm, Rosie…” she exhaled, her hips pushing up when Rosé slid in a second finger. “Baby, just like that, feels so good.”

She basked in the praise, continuing her movements, occasionally switching her tongue and her fingers, but never leaving her unattended. She was focused and fervent, bringing Denali to an orgasm as quickly as she could, as if she were setting it as a challenge to herself. Once she’d won her game, she pulled back with a smile, gazing up at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re sappy,” she teased affectionately, leaning down to kiss her. “Come on,” she got up and pulled Rosé to her feet, “we can cuddle until I gotta get ready for my shift.”

------

Nicky watched Jan with a concerned expression. She wished she knew what to do, how to talk to her and help her. Ever since the incident at the club, she had been quiet, withdrawn, two words she would never think to associate with the bubbly woman she loved so dearly. It killed her to see her girlfriend hurting, enough for her to put her aversion to emotional conversations aside as she sat beside her on the couch, gently taking her hand. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been the same since what happened with Lemon and I’m worried about you.”

Jan chewed on her lip, her gaze downcast. Logically, she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Lemon is like a sister to me and I’m worried about her. I know what alcoholism looks like… and I know what it can do to someone, it’s not pretty.”

She furrowed her brows, shifting closer to the younger woman. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um…” she swallowed thickly, “my dad’s five years sober now, but it hit a nasty low before it got better. I-I don’t know what that low would be for Lemon, I’m afraid she’s hit it, but I’m even more afraid she hasn’t.”

Nicky nodded as she listened. She had suspected Lemon might have developed a bit of a drinking habit, but not the severity, and certainly not the effect it would have on Jan. “I am so sorry about your father, and about Lemon. Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My dad went to rehab while I was away at college, but I imagine my mom laid down some ultimatums, but I don’t know if Lemon thinks she has anything left to lose.”

“There has to be some way, and I'm going to help you find it,” she promised.

------

“Thank you all for meeting me here,” Juice said as she looked around the two pushed-together tables in the diner. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Julia - Juice - and Lemon moved in with me about four days ago.”

“What happened?” Rosé immediately asked. “Is she okay?”

The blonde hesitated and looked down at the table. “Technically yes, she’s nursing a hangover at home right now but otherwise fine, unless she’s started day drinking. But there’s a bigger issue, and I’m sure you guys have started to suspect as much. What I’m trying to say is she’s developing an alcohol problem, and if we don’t do something about it now, it could get much worse.”

Everyone else had similar expressions - sadness, concern, anxiety. But none of them were surprised. “What do we do, then?” Rosé asked, breaking a tense moment of silence.

“Listen, I’m not claiming to be an expert. I’m twenty-two, sober for eight months now, so I can relate to how she’s feeling. What she’s going to need is everyone to rally around her, because it won’t be easy to convince her to get help.”

“So can we stage an intervention?” Jaida asked. “Do you have someone we can talk to?”

Juice nodded. “I can talk to my sponsor and have her put us in touch with someone who can get her into a detox, put the whole thing together. It goes so far beyond just telling her to stop drinking, especially in a club environment.”

“Speaking of the club environment,” Gigi chimed in, “we have to address the elephant in the room. What are we gonna do about the Priyanka situation? She told Crystal she’s taking a day job until things cool off, but if Lemon gets help… maybe that’ll expedite the process.”

Jackie sighed, but agreed. “I can open auditions to take on another dancer temporarily, I don’t know how long she’s gonna need, but assuming she chooses to get help, I want her to know she has a place to come back to.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m going to reach out to Priyanka too, I know she hasn’t been answering most of our calls or texts, but I think I might be able to get through to her.”

“My god, we’ve been so caught up with Lemon, we’ve barely kept up with Pri. Are we bad friends?” Jan asked, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness.

Juice shook her head. “No, of course not. Everyone here is doing their best. You guys reach out to Priyanka and figure out a way to get Lemon to the intervention when the time comes, I’ll do what I can on my part.” From there, they all just had to hope for the best.

------

Jackie took a deep breath, making sure she was calm and collected before knocking on the door. When a woman with black hair and tattoos opened the door, she greeted her politely. “Hi, you must be Scarlett. Um, can you tell Priyanka that Jackie’s here to see her?”

Scarlett nodded, disappearing back into her apartment. There was a solid few minutes of waiting, but Priyanka eventually came to the door. “Hey,” she greeted meekly and led Jackie inside.

Jackie sat at the edge of the bed in the guest room Priyanka had been staying in. “How have you been? You know we’re all worried about you.”

Priyanka’s gaze never left the floor. She picked pieces of lint off of her shorts as she sat down as well, swinging her legs aimlessly. How could she even begin to tackle that question when everything she had ever known had changed overnight? How can anyone process that sort of thing? “Scarlett convinced me to try therapy. I’ve had a couple sessions so far… It helped, I think, but it’s just scratching the surface, you know?”

She listened attentively, nodding along. “I’m proud of you for that. How did your family react when you and Mark broke up?”

“It’s funny, as angry as he was, he didn’t out me. He said it’s clear I have my own problems to work through. My mom was furious that the wedding was called off, so I threw in the ‘I like girls’ news because, well, it couldn’t get any worse,” she sighed. “I don’t think it’s fully hit her yet. She asked me if it was an excuse to get out of the wedding. I haven’t heard back since I told her it was the truth, and I haven’t heard from my dad at all.” She laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t even say that I’m gay. It’s too much, I can’t just be gay,” she sat back up and grabbed a tissue, quickly dabbing the corners of her eyes. “How do you get past it, Jackie? How do you stop being afraid of yourself?”

Jackie pressed her lips together as she tried to articulate an answer. “There’s no easy solution, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. I don’t think I was ever ready to be gay, one day I just came to terms with the fact that I was miserable trying to avoid my own truth and that the only way I was ever going to be happy was by loving even the scariest parts of myself.”

Priyanka went quiet again, crumpling the tissue in her hand and staring at it as if the answers were there. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to be fully happy until I embrace being gay?”

“That’s for you to decide. But think of it this way; when you think about your future, best case scenario, what is it in your life that’s making you happy?”

The answer for that wasn’t in her hand, it was in her heart. It made its way into her throat, choking her from the inside and making her pulse race. After everything, it nearly made her angry that it felt inevitable. “Lemon.”

------

“Juice just texted me that they’re on the way,” Rosé read off her phone, her free hand squeezing Denali’s tight, her leg bouncing anxiously.

The woman they’d brought in to help Lemon, Widow, nodded calmly. “Remember, at the end of the day we are here to help her. We’re not punishing or lecturing her, but we have to be firm.”

After another review of the plan, they heard the door open and looked up to see the two girls walk in, Lemon’s expression immediately becoming confused as she looked around. “Are you guys fucking intervention-ing me?” she asked as she took the empty seat to the right of Rosé.

“Lemon, your friends and family are here because they care about you and are worried about your health,” Widow explained. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘this bitch wants to send me to some random rehab until I come back sober for good’, but this isn’t like that. We get that you’re twenty-one, fresh out of college, no history of addiction.”

“So why am I here?” Lemon interjected.

Rosé arched her brow. “Well, for starters, you haven’t been sober a full twenty-four hours in nearly three weeks, you’ve been acting completely unhinged every time you get trashed. You’re actively trying to alienate yourself from everyone who cares about you, you-” She stopped short when Denali squeezed her hand, her cue to reel it in. “You’re going down a dangerous path and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“This isn’t one of those ninety-day programs either,” Jackie chimed in. “It’s only three weeks, and the first five days are just for detoxing. We’re not saying you have to be sober for good, this isn’t AA, it’s a program that’s going to give you the support and help you need to still enjoy things in moderation instead of relying on alcohol as a coping mechanism.”

Lemon nodded and listened as the rest of the group said their pieces to try to convince her to go. And she took it in, but she was also looking around and at the door. After a while, it became clear that she was waiting for - hoping for - another person.

“Priyanka wanted to come,” Jackie told her. “But we weren’t sure how you would react and decided it would be better if she waited at least until after you detox to contact you. You have to know, though, she really does care about you.”

She sunk further into her chair, not angry, but embarrassed. It shouldn’t have had to come to this, she knew that, knew better. And she hated that everything they said was right, that she did need help. “Fine,” she mumbled, “I’ll go.”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the tension dissipated throughout the room. “Rosé and Juice will go back with you to your apartment so you can pack, we’re going to get you checked in tonight,” Widow explained. “The facility is in Westchester, you won’t be more than an hour away and visitation is every Saturday.”

Rosé looked at her younger cousin and could tell she was doing her best to cover her fear and anxiety. She wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You’re going to be okay, baby,” she promised, “they’re gonna take good care of you, and you’re gonna be better than ever once you’re done.”

Lemon nodded quietly, wiping her eyes. “I just wanna get this over with,” she mumbled, still unwilling to allow herself to be vulnerable in front of everyone, though the group anticipated that from her and let it be. All any of them could do now was trust the process.

[calumance]

Could you write a one where you are a famous singer and there are rumours that you are expecting, so they confirm it whilst quarantine in an interview like gigi and Zayn?:) just some fluff💗 Thank you. X

I honestly have no idea how Gigi and Zayn confirmed it, so here’s my idea of how it would happen with Calum. 🙈🙈❤️❤️

           It’s been three months since you found out you were pregnant, and one month since the whole state went on mandatory lock down. Before the lockdown, the rumors started. They started shortly after you released your album and took some time off. Which, if you did the math, was when it happened, but only you knew that. Which was why you weren’t exactly sure how they started, the only people you told were the people you trusted to keep it a secret. Maybe it was the outfits you were wearing, maybe it was the way you walked, maybe it was the way your hair was growing way faster than normal, it could have been something just conjured up in their head one day that spiraled out of control and was somehow true. Like that episode of The Office where Michael starts spreading rumors about Stanley cheating on his wife and Jim and Pam save Stanley by confirming that Pam was pregnant. “I have an interview in just a few minutes, do you need anything?” Calum’s voice shook you from your thoughts.

           You blinked the thoughts away and looked up at the man you adored more than anything in this world. A smile spreading across your lips when you saw him wearing his “Shrute Farms” hat. A laugh escaped your lips as you shook your head, “No, baby, I’m okay.” Calum nodded and started to lean towards you, resting his fists on either side of your legs on the couch.

           His breath was hot on your lips as he ghosted over them with a smile. “I love you,” he said before pecking your lips softly. He moved down so he was face level with your belly. He pressed a soft kiss to you belly and rubbed a soft circle around your belly button, “And I love you.” You ran the back of your fingers down his stubbled cheek before he stood up and pressed a kiss to your nose. “Let me know if you need anything, I’m just down the hall.” You nodded at Calum as he turned on his heels and headed to his studio.

           Boredom eventually got the best of you and you pushed yourself off the couch and made your way into the kitchen. The song that has been stuck in your head for three days falling off your lips as you danced around while making tea for Calum and a sandwich for yourself. Once Calum’s tea was ready, you left your half eaten sandwich on the counter and slowly made your way down the hall, still singing softly to yourself.

           You stopped at the door, your voice becoming quiet as you pressed your ear to the door. Calum’s voice was muffled, but his laugh was clear. His laugh always being one of your most favorite sounds. A smile involuntarily spread across your lips before you lightly knocked on the door. You entered without Calum responding, your knock being light enough that he probably didn’t even hear you. When Calum looked up at you, a smile appeared on his lips. Trying to stay professional, he pulled his lips into his mouth, directing his eyes back to the screen. You awkwardly held up your hand to apologize and then set the tea cup on the edge of the desk, before turning to make your way out of the room.

           “Excuse me for just a moment,” Calum said before taking off his headphones and pushing the chair back. Calum placed his hand on the small of your back and you turned toward him, pulling your eyebrows together. “Thank you for the tea. Are you doing okay? Feeling alright?” He asked as his hand cupped your right cheek, his thumb gently rubbing up and down.

           You nodded and smiled, ready to give him a kiss, but suddenly you heard your name through Calum’s headphone. Both you and Calum froze, no one had seen you in the months since you released your album, keeping the promo to a minimal since your bump was getting bigger. Calum met your eyes before he left you standing where you were and sitting back at the desk, pulling his headphones out of the jack. “Is she there, Calum? There’s so many rumors floating around that your two are expecting. Maybe you could give us some clarity on those rumors,” the interviewer wasn’t pushing, the words were obviously just for the views, but it still made your skin crawl in an unnatural way.

           Calum looked at you, and you looked down at yourself. The outfit you were wearing easily hid you growing stomach, but also made you look like you were obviously hiding it. You slapped your forehead as Calum cleared his throat. “Yeah, she’s here. She brought me some tea, because she loves me.” He laughed, trying to skirt around the question.

           With a sigh, you tucked your hair behind your ears and made your way behind Calum to wave at the camera. “You haven’t answered the question, Calum!” The interviewer said through a laugh, “We’re all truly on edge to find out if you are expecting together or not. The world must know.” The interviewer raised her eyebrows and placed her fingers under her chin.

           As if you and Calum read each other’s mind, you both sighed. “Yes, it’s true.” You finally spit out. Calum smiled and looked down at his desk, staying quiet. You pressed your hand on his shoulder to move him out of the view. Once Calum was out of the way, you moved your hands around your belly so the oversized shirt you were wearing was pulled taught and everyone watching could see the little bump.

           The interviewer screeched and the other guys in the interview dropping their heads and smiling, already being well aware of this information. “Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! You two are going to make the most precious little baby!” She continued to gush about you and Calum having a baby while you gave Calum a kiss and started to walk out of the room.

           Calum pushed himself out of the chair without saying anything. His fingers wrapped around your wrist as he gently pulled you back to him. His hand landing softly on your bump and you placed your hand over his. He smiled at your and stared into your eyes, “I’m so happy that everyone knows. I can’t wait to scream about it from the rooftops.” He smiled again before pressing his lips against yours, leaving his hand on your belly. At that moment it didn’t feel like both of you had the entire world watching you, it was just you and him and the baby, and that’s all you ever could want.

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

Tag list: @mantlereid @notinthesameguey @viiirg0 @wheniminouterspace @thinkofmehlgh @another-lonely-heart @limer-encia @itsmytimetoodream @babyoria @treatallwithkindness @karajaynetoday @talkfastromance4

[snowonthebeachmp3]

July 2016

Jul 3rd - Taylor's 4th of July festivities kick off at her Rhode Island house. Guests include Tom Hiddleston, Abigail Anderson, Matt Lucier, Claire Winter, Ryan Reynolds, Blake Lively, Karlie Kloss, Josh Kushner, Austin Swift, Ruby Rose, Harley Gusman, Halston Sage, Gigi Hadid, Cara Delevingne, Britany Maack, Ben LaManna, Martha Hunt, Jason McDonald, Uzo Aduba, Chioma Aduba, Jordan Masterson, Kesha, St Vincent, Ed Sheeran, Cherry Seaborn, Rachel Platten, Kennedy Rayé and the Haim sisters. (x) (x) (x) (x)

This is the day Tom wears the infamous 'I <3 TS' tank top while they're all at the beach. (x)

Jul 4th - The online mockery for the 'I <3 TS' shirt is quick to pour in. Daily Mail commenters are yet to shut up about it in 2021.

The party continues with a giant inflatable waterslide, body painting, karaoke, charades and fireworks. (x) And also Kesha and Haim getting tricked by Cara, Uzo and Ruby into thinking they heard scary noises in the night, and trying to call the police but not knowing their own location. (x) (x)

Jul 5th - The day after the party, when all the guests post their photos online.

Britany posts a photo of her & Ben, Blake & Ryan, and Taylor & Tom. (x) The internet has a field day with Ryan's unimpressed facial expression. (x) (Ryan later says that it's just his resting bitch face as he wasn't aware a photo was being taken. (x))

Taylor posts several photos to Instagram of her celebrating the 4th July with friends, but doesn't post any pictures with Tom. (x)

Claire Winter posts a bunch of Polaroids, including one of Taylor and Tom kissing. (x)

Abigail posts a photo to Instagram showing the banners Taylor put up to celebrate her engagement to Matt and the anniversaries of Cara & St Vincent (real name Annie Clark) and Ed & Cherry. (x)

Jul 6th - Taylor and Tom fly out of Rhode Island (x) and arrive at LAX that evening. (x) They then get on a plane to Australia.

Joe attends the Warner Music Group summer party in London. (x)

Rumours are swirling that Tom is no longer in consideration to be the next Bond, due to his relationship with Taylor. (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

Jul 8th - Taylor and Tom are flying on a commercial Quantas flight so someone is able to take a pic of them on the plane. (x)

According to another passenger on the plane, Taylor plays Scrabble during the flight (presumably on her phone because nobody takes big physical board games on commercial flights and the creepshot of Hiddleswift on the plane suggests she wouldn't have had anywhere to put the board anyway). In hindsight, knowing how Taylor and Joe play lots of Scrabble together including online Scrabble aka Words With Friends, and how they stayed in touch largely via texting that summer, it’s very possible she was playing against Joe.

Taylor and Tom arrive in Sydney, where Tom is about to start filming for Thor: Ragnarok. (x) Aussie media, including daytime TV, goes nuts over Hiddleswift's arrival in the country. (x)

Flying from LA to Australia involves crossing the international dateline, so they would have left the US on the 6th July local time and arrived in Sydney approx 15 hours later on the 8th July local time.

Calvin's new song Olé, written for John Newman, is released. There is speculation that it's a Hiddleswift song, written from Tom's perspective and containing lyrics implying that Taylor cheated on Calvin with Tom. However, sources also told multiple outlets that the song was written and recorded months earlier, and its supposed links to Hiddleswift were just for publicity. (x) (x)

Jul 9th - Tom goes out for a run (x) and avoids answering questions about Taylor. (x)

Jul 10th - Taylor and Tom go out for dinner to Gemelli Italian restaurant in Broadbeach on Australia's Gold Coast. (x)

Jul 11th - Taylor is named as the highest earning celebrity on the 2016 Forbes Celebrity 100 list, with earnings of $170m mostly due to the 1989 World Tour. If she and Calvin had not split up, they would have been the top-earning celebrity couple. (x)

Jul 12th - Taylor visits Lady Cilento Children’s Hospital in South Brisbane. (x)

Jul 13th - Us Weekly makes a wild claim that Tom is planning to propose soon, and Taylor is going to say yes. The magazine cover also claims they're already talking about babies. (x)

TMZ claims that Taylor wrote TIWYCF, and that Calvin disrespecting Taylor following its release was the reason for their breakup. (x)

Taylor Swift really is the creative brains behind Calvin Harris' monster hit "This is What You Came For," and their relationship fell apart because he disrespected her when the song was released ... this according to sources connected with Taylor.

It's a fascinating story. We've learned an early fan rumor about the song is true, but to a deeper extent than anyone suspected. During their relationship, Taylor wrote the song, sat down at a piano and did a demo into her iPhone. She sent it to Calvin, who loved it. They both went into a studio and did a full demo with Taylor on vocals and Calvin doing the beat.

They both knew the song would be a hit, but Taylor wrote it for Calvin and both agreed it was a bad idea to let the world know they collaborated as a couple ... it would overshadow the song.

So Taylor, who kept the publishing rights, used the pseudonym Nils Sjoberg on the credits.

//

The problem in the relationship came the day the song was released. Calvin appeared on Ryan Seacrest's radio show and Ryan asked, "Will you do a collaboration with your girlfriend?" Calvin responded, "You know we haven't even spoken about it. I can't see it happening though."

We're told Taylor was hurt and felt Calvin took it too far.

It was a quick downward spiral from that point. One source called it "the breaking point in the relationship." The Met Gala was several days later, when Taylor danced with Tom Hiddleston.

Tree confirms to People magazine that Taylor did write TIWYCF under the pseudonym Nils Sjöberg. (x)

Calvin also confirms that Taylor wrote TIWYCF and goes on a Twitter rant:

Katy Perry tweets a gif of Hillary Clinton with a smug/'told you so' expression. (x) She also retweets an older tweet from May 2015 which reads, 'Time, the ultimate truth teller.' (x)

#TaylorSwiftIsOverParty trends on Twitter (x) (x) and Taylor's Instagram comments are spammed with the snake emoji. (x)

Following Calvin's tweets, TMZ publishes another article claiming he is downplaying Taylor's involvement in the song as she wrote the melody in addition to the lyrics. (x)

Jul 14th - Taylor goes out shopping in Gold Coast. (x)

Tom mentions Taylor in an interview with the Hollywood Reporter: (x)

You're in the middle of a cultural frenzy right now because you're dating Taylor Swift. How would you respond to people who claim that you're involved in some sort of publicity stunt?

(Laughs.) Well, um. How best to put this? That notion is — look, the truth is that Taylor Swift and I are together, and we're very happy. Thanks for asking. That's the truth. It's not a publicity stunt.

Martha says at a Pepsi/World Emoji Day event that Taylor and Tom are 'both happy and free together. It's amazing, I'm all about people being happy in love.' (x)

Kim talks about Taylor and the Famous controversy in a clip from an upcoming episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. (x)

“I never talk shit about anyone publicly, especially in interviews. But I was just like I had so had it,” Kim says in the clip to her sister Kourtney. “I wanted to defend him in it. She legitimately quote says, ‘As soon as I get on that Grammy red carpet I’m gonna tell all the press. Like I was in on it.’”

“And then she just didn’t like the reaction?” Kourtney says in response.

“Yeah, and you know just another way to play the victim,” Kim replies. She then brings the infamous VMAs moment from 2009 by saying, “It definitely got her a lot of attention the first time… I just don’t think he should be punished for it still to this day.”

Jul 17th - Kim posts an edited recording of Kanye and Taylor's phone call. In it, they discuss the 'I feel like me and Taylor might still have sex' line and Taylor says, 'Go with whatever line you think is better. It’s obviously very tongue in cheek either way. And I really appreciate you telling me about it. That’s really nice.' However, nowhere in the Snapchat video does Kanye consult her about the line, 'I made that bitch famous,' which is the line Taylor insisted she had never approved. (x) The other Kardashian sisters retweet and support Kim. (x)

(The full recording of the call, leaked in 2020, confirms that Kanye never told Taylor he was going to call her a bitch. It also shows her reminding him that she sold 7 million albums before he had even heard of her, in response to him suggesting the lyric, 'I made her famous.')

Kim takes to Twitter to call Taylor a snake.

Taylor posts a statement on Instagram responding to Kim's Snapchat video. (x)

Selena tweets, 'There are more important things to talk about… Why can’t people use their voice for something that fucking matters? This industry is so disappointing yet the most influential smh' (x)

Katy Perry tweets, '#RISE above it all' and links to her new single. People interpret it as a dig at Taylor. (x)

Martha Hunt tweets, 'It's pathetic how quick our culture is to sensationalize a fabricated story...' (x)

Jul 18th - #KimExposedTaylorParty spends the day trending at number one worldwide on Twitter. (x) To the point where 0.8% of all tweets posted in the entire week from the 18th-24th use the hashtag. (x) (Assuming that 1/7th of the week's total tweets were posted on each day, that means more than 1 in every 20 tweets on the 18th used the hashtag.) #TaylorSwiftIsOverParty also returns.

TMZ claims to have a copy of a letter from Taylor's lawyer, dating back to February, demanding that Kanye destroy the recording of their phone conversation and reminding him that it is a felony to secretly record a phone conversation in California. (x)

Taylor changes the name on her writing credits for TIWYCF on the BMI songwriters database. She is now listed as Taylor Swift instead of Nils Sjöberg. (x)

Camilla Belle, the subject of Taylor's 2010 song Better Than Revenge, posts a quote to Instagram which reads, 'No need for revenge. Just sit back & wait. Those who hurt you will eventually screw up themselves & if you’re lucky, God will let you watch.' (x)

Abigail tweets against Kim and Kanye, saying, 'May God forgive you & your wife for doing to others the very things you pray are NEVER done to your daughter.' She deletes the tweets after receiving death threats but leaves a tweet which reads, 'Guys…I will always stand by my best friend. There's no point in fighting over that.' (x)

Joseph Kahn (director of many of Taylor's music videos) defends Taylor on Twitter. (x)

The aunt of Dinah Jane from Fifth Harmony tweets, 'I always knew @/taylorswift13 was a SNAKE! Trying 2 break up my girls & use @/camilacabello97 as her protégé bitch bye you’ve been exposed!’ (x) The tweet is soon deleted and she claims her account was hacked. (x) (Camila quit the band at the end of 2016 and has since said that Taylor had nothing to do with her decision to leave.) (x)

Paula Erickson, Taylor’s former publicist from 2007 until 2014, likes a two-and-a-half-week-old tweet dragging Hiddleswift for being a badly executed bit of PR by Taylor and Tree. (x)

James Corden spoofs the recorded phone call on the Late Late Show. (x)

Calvin is rumoured to be dating Tinashe. (x)

Jul 20th - Todrick Hall defends Taylor, saying, 'She's one of the most genuine people I've ever met in my entire life.' (x)

Uzo Aduba says Taylor is 'a beautiful person and strong' and that she will overcome the Kimye drama. (x)

Paula likes another tweet shading Taylor and Tree. (x)

A graffiti artist creates a mural in Melbourne 'in loving memory of Taylor Swift' (misspelled as Smith). According to the artist, they are then contacted by Taylor's lawyers and threatened with legal action. (x)

Jul 21st - Taylor's Wikipedia page is vandalised with insults. (x)

Taylor and Tom fly back from Australia into a private airport in LA, and are seen out and about. (x) (x)

Jul 22nd - Fergie, who had Kim appear in her M.I.L.F. $ music video, says she thinks the Kimye-Taylor feud was planned and 'they’ll probably all come together at the MTV Awards or something.' (x)

Taylor goes to the gym in LA. It is the first time she has appeared in public since Kim posted the edited video, and her phone screen is now shattered. (x)

She also returns to Instagram to wish Selena a happy birthday. (x)

Jul 23rd - Taylor goes to the gym in LA. (x)

Tom is at Comic Con in San Diego. (x)

Calvin lip-syncs to Kanye's song That Part in a video posted on his Snapchat. (x) He also attends J-Lo's birthday party and is photographed with Kim. Apparently they have a friendly chat. (x) A source claims to E!, 'When Kim walked in Calvin saw her and stood up. He was clearly excited to see her and said 'hi' to Kim backstage.' (x)

Jul 24th - Taylor blocks the snake emoji from her Instagram comments section using a new Instagram feature. (x)

Tom is seen at the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills with members of Taylor's security team. (x)

Jul 26th - Tom flies back to LA from NYC, where he has just spent a couple of days. On the same day, Taylor's plane arrives back in LA from Nashville, where she has spent a couple of days. (x)

VMA nominations are announced. Taylor is not nominated in any category, despite Out Of The Woods and Wildest Dreams being eligible, leading some people to think she has been snubbed. Gossip Cop, an outlet widely used by celebrity publicists to quietly squash rumours, says that Taylor did not submit any videos for consideration this year. (x)

Jul 27th - Taylor goes to the gym in LA. (x)

John Newman, singer of Calvin's song Olé, jokes, 'Supposedly we had a holiday where he was movin’ on from his ex-missus,' referring to the trip to Mexico to film the music video, which involved girls and a yacht. He also says he doesn't think it's his place to say what inspired Calvin to write the song. (x)

Taylor and Tom go for dinner at Hillstone restaurant in Santa Monica. One source claims they 'seemed to really be enjoying each others’ company.' (x) It is the last time they are papped together.

Kanye makes a surprise appearance at Drake's concert in Chicago where he responds to Kim's Snapchat video for the first time, saying, 'All I gotta say is, I am so glad my wife has Snapchat. Because now y’all can know the truth. And can’t nobody talk shit about ‘Ye no more.' (x)

Cara appears on James Corden's show and talks about how she, Uzo and Ruby pranked Kesha and Haim at Taylor's 4th of July party. She mentions consulting Taylor and Tom first so that security knew what they were up to. She also says that Taylor and Tom got woken up at one point by all the noise they were making, and came upstairs together to find Cara and Uzo still making ghost noises. (x)

Jul 28th - Taylor goes to the gym in LA. (x)

Jul 29th - Sources close to Calvin deny rumours that he is planning to collaborate on music with Kanye. (x)

Abigail likes E! News' Instagram photo of Tom and Taylor going out for dinner on the 27th, which has a gushing caption about them. (x)

Jul 31st - Taylor is seen entering her gym in LA through the back door. (x)

A fan sees Tom and Taylor at The Church Key restaurant in LA. (x) The outing is not papped.

Intro // February // March // April // May // June // July // August // September // October // November

[artificialqueens]

Taste of a Poison Paradise, Chapter 9 (Multi) - Joley

Chapter Summary: In the wake of Lemon’s outburst at the club, those closest to her process the fallout and realize something needs to be done before she spirals to the point of no return.

ao3 link

“Okay, I think that’s the last box,” Juice remarked as she dropped herself down onto the couch. “So, why’d your cousin kick you out again?”

Lemon scoffed and rolled her eyes as she piled up the empty boxes. “She didn’t kick me out, we both decided it was time for me to move.” She decided her college friend-turned-roommate didn’t need to know about the argument she had with Rosé. And she certainly didn’t need to know that she’d rejected her ultimatum of, “if you want to stay here, you can’t keep getting drunk every day.” It had been a week since the incident at the club and she was going to recover from it on her own terms.

“Alright, cool,” she shrugged as she took out her phone and began aimlessly scrolling. “You wanna do something tonight?”

The blonde perched herself on the armrest of the couch, swinging her legs. “We could go to a club and get shitfaced,” she suggested.

Juice shook her head without looking up from her phone. “You can. I mean, I’ll totally go with you and turn shit up, but I don’t drink.”

“More for me.”

Her friend looked her over with a concerned expression, eyes finally pried away from the screen. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “I mean, I know you’ve been through a lot, have you considered talking to someone about it?”

Lemon shook her head. “I’m fine, I don’t have the emotional capacity for therapy.” She got back up and looked around. “Shit, I guess you don’t have any liquor in here then. I’ll be back,” and after putting her shoes on and grabbing her purse, she was out the door, leaving a concerned new roommate in her wake.

——

Rosé sighed as she passed the joint back to Mik. “This doesn’t make me a bad person, right? I mean the last thing I want to do is make Lemon’s issues about me. But god, that really is what made me realize that I have to do this.”

Mik shook her head as she took a hit. “It’s not your fault, you saw a trainwreck and realized you needed to keep your ass on the tracks.” She finished off the joint and put it out. “Listen, the last thing you wanna do is be that girl who pines over the person she’s sleeping with until it’s too late.”

“You’re right, I know. I’m gonna talk to her,” she exhaled deeply as she pushed herself up. “If Lemon comes around, please don’t have sex with her.”

“Oh fuck off,” she huffed, “that delayed her mental breakdown by at least a week.”

Rosé rolled her eyes as she left. She wasn’t mad at Mik for that, if anything maybe it did help Lemon temporarily by giving her a distraction. But she had so much more on her mind, things that have been brewing since the club incident.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked on Denali’s door, evening out her breathing while she waited for her.

“Hey Rosie,” Denali smiled warmly as she opened the door, leading her inside and shutting it behind them. “What’s up? You usually text me when you’re on your way over.” They sat down on the couch as she spoke, a tinge of concern in her voice.

She swallowed thickly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. “I know I’ve been distant lately with everything that’s been happening with Lemon. But through all the chaos, I realized something, that keeping your feelings bottled up is dangerous.” Another deep breath, this time she forced herself to look into Denali’s eyes, eyes that she found warmth and comfort in every time she gazed into them. “What I’m trying to say is that I have feelings for you. I don’t just wanna be fuck buddies, it’s not enough. I need all of you.”

Denali blinked, taking her time to process Rosé’s confession. At first it was pure surprise, but once she let it sink in, it clicked that she felt the same way, that she had been falling for her all along without realizing it. “You have all of me,” she told her, cupping her face and pressing a deep kiss to her lips.

In that moment, a weight lifted from Rosé’s chest. If only for the duration of a kiss, she could pretend nothing in the world existed outside of Denali’s apartment. She could stop thinking, stop worrying. It was only them, everything else faded to black. “Are we alone?” she asked against her lips.

“Mhm,” she nodded, a slight smirk tugging at her lips, able to fill in the blanks from there. Her hands traveled down Rosé’s body, tugging off her shirt in one swift motion, her own following suit, though they took their time undressing each other, letting their fingers and lips gently caress each other’s skin.

By the time they were both completely undressed, they had gotten each other thoroughly worked up. Rosé had Denali sit up on the couch, then got on her knees in front of her, pushing her thighs apart. She moved in between them, dragging her tongue along her pussy before circling, then sucking on her clit as she eased a finger into her.

Denali’s head lolled back to rest against the back of the couch, a pleased moan escaping. “Mm, Rosie…” she exhaled, her hips pushing up when Rosé slid in a second finger. “Baby, just like that, feels so good.”

She basked in the praise, continuing her movements, occasionally switching her tongue and her fingers, but never leaving her unattended. She was focused and fervent, bringing Denali to an orgasm as quickly as she could, as if she were setting it as a challenge to herself. Once she’d won her game, she pulled back with a smile, gazing up at her. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re sappy,” she teased affectionately, leaning down to kiss her. “Come on,” she got up and pulled Rosé to her feet, “we can cuddle until I gotta get ready for my shift.”

——

Nicky watched Jan with a concerned expression. She wished she knew what to do, how to talk to her and help her. Ever since the incident at the club, she had been quiet, withdrawn, two words she would never think to associate with the bubbly woman she loved so dearly. It killed her to see her girlfriend hurting, enough for her to put her aversion to emotional conversations aside as she sat beside her on the couch, gently taking her hand. “Please tell me what’s wrong. You haven’t been the same since what happened with Lemon and I’m worried about you.”

Jan chewed on her lip, her gaze downcast. Logically, she knew she couldn’t avoid this conversation forever, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Lemon is like a sister to me and I’m worried about her. I know what alcoholism looks like… and I know what it can do to someone, it’s not pretty.”

She furrowed her brows, shifting closer to the younger woman. “What do you mean?”

“Well, um…” she swallowed thickly, “my dad’s five years sober now, but it hit a nasty low before it got better. I-I don’t know what that low would be for Lemon, I’m afraid she’s hit it, but I’m even more afraid she hasn’t.”

Nicky nodded as she listened. She had suspected Lemon might have developed a bit of a drinking habit, but not the severity, and certainly not the effect it would have on Jan. “I am so sorry about your father, and about Lemon. Is there anything we can do?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “My dad went to rehab while I was away at college, but I imagine my mom laid down some ultimatums, but I don’t know if Lemon thinks she has anything left to lose.”

“There has to be some way, and I’m going to help you find it,” she promised.

——

“Thank you all for meeting me here,” Juice said as she looked around the two pushed-together tables in the diner. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Julia - Juice - and Lemon moved in with me about four days ago.”

“What happened?” Rosé immediately asked. “Is she okay?”

The blonde hesitated and looked down at the table. “Technically yes, she’s nursing a hangover at home right now but otherwise fine, unless she’s started day drinking. But there’s a bigger issue, and I’m sure you guys have started to suspect as much. What I’m trying to say is she’s developing an alcohol problem, and if we don’t do something about it now, it could get much worse.”

Everyone else had similar expressions - sadness, concern, anxiety. But none of them were surprised. “What do we do, then?” Rosé asked, breaking a tense moment of silence.

“Listen, I’m not claiming to be an expert. I’m twenty-two, sober for eight months now, so I can relate to how she’s feeling. What she’s going to need is everyone to rally around her, because it won’t be easy to convince her to get help.”

“So can we stage an intervention?” Jaida asked. “Do you have someone we can talk to?”

Juice nodded. “I can talk to my sponsor and have her put us in touch with someone who can get her into a detox, put the whole thing together. It goes so far beyond just telling her to stop drinking, especially in a club environment.”

“Speaking of the club environment,” Gigi chimed in, “we have to address the elephant in the room. What are we gonna do about the Priyanka situation? She told Crystal she’s taking a day job until things cool off, but if Lemon gets help… maybe that’ll expedite the process.”

Jackie sighed, but agreed. “I can open auditions to take on another dancer temporarily, I don’t know how long she’s gonna need, but assuming she chooses to get help, I want her to know she has a place to come back to.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “I’m going to reach out to Priyanka too, I know she hasn’t been answering most of our calls or texts, but I think I might be able to get through to her.”

“My god, we’ve been so caught up with Lemon, we’ve barely kept up with Pri. Are we bad friends?” Jan asked, feeling a mix of guilt and sadness.

Juice shook her head. “No, of course not. Everyone here is doing their best. You guys reach out to Priyanka and figure out a way to get Lemon to the intervention when the time comes, I’ll do what I can on my part.” From there, they all just had to hope for the best.

——

Jackie took a deep breath, making sure she was calm and collected before knocking on the door. When a woman with black hair and tattoos opened the door, she greeted her politely. “Hi, you must be Scarlett. Um, can you tell Priyanka that Jackie’s here to see her?”

Scarlett nodded, disappearing back into her apartment. There was a solid few minutes of waiting, but Priyanka eventually came to the door. “Hey,” she greeted meekly and led Jackie inside.

Jackie sat at the edge of the bed in the guest room Priyanka had been staying in. “How have you been? You know we’re all worried about you.”

Priyanka’s gaze never left the floor. She picked pieces of lint off of her shorts as she sat down as well, swinging her legs aimlessly. How could she even begin to tackle that question when everything she had ever known had changed overnight? How can anyone process that sort of thing? “Scarlett convinced me to try therapy. I’ve had a couple sessions so far… It helped, I think, but it’s just scratching the surface, you know?”

She listened attentively, nodding along. “I’m proud of you for that. How did your family react when you and Mark broke up?”

“It’s funny, as angry as he was, he didn’t out me. He said it’s clear I have my own problems to work through. My mom was furious that the wedding was called off, so I threw in the ‘I like girls’ news because, well, it couldn’t get any worse,” she sighed. “I don’t think it’s fully hit her yet. She asked me if it was an excuse to get out of the wedding. I haven’t heard back since I told her it was the truth, and I haven’t heard from my dad at all.” She laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I couldn’t even say that I’m gay. It’s too much, I can’t just be gay,” she sat back up and grabbed a tissue, quickly dabbing the corners of her eyes. “How do you get past it, Jackie? How do you stop being afraid of yourself?”

Jackie pressed her lips together as she tried to articulate an answer. “There’s no easy solution, but I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. I don’t think I was ever ready to be gay, one day I just came to terms with the fact that I was miserable trying to avoid my own truth and that the only way I was ever going to be happy was by loving even the scariest parts of myself.”

Priyanka went quiet again, crumpling the tissue in her hand and staring at it as if the answers were there. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to be fully happy until I embrace being gay?”

“That’s for you to decide. But think of it this way; when you think about your future, best case scenario, what is it in your life that’s making you happy?”

The answer for that wasn’t in her hand, it was in her heart. It made its way into her throat, choking her from the inside and making her pulse race. After everything, it nearly made her angry that it felt inevitable. “Lemon.”

——

“Juice just texted me that they’re on the way,” Rosé read off her phone, her free hand squeezing Denali’s tight, her leg bouncing anxiously.

The woman they’d brought in to help Lemon, Widow, nodded calmly. “Remember, at the end of the day we are here to help her. We’re not punishing or lecturing her, but we have to be firm.”

After another review of the plan, they heard the door open and looked up to see the two girls walk in, Lemon’s expression immediately becoming confused as she looked around. “Are you guys fucking intervention-ing me?” she asked as she took the empty seat to the right of Rosé.

“Lemon, your friends and family are here because they care about you and are worried about your health,” Widow explained. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘this bitch wants to send me to some random rehab until I come back sober for good’, but this isn’t like that. We get that you’re twenty-one, fresh out of college, no history of addiction.”

“So why am I here?” Lemon interjected.

Rosé arched her brow. “Well, for starters, you haven’t been sober a full twenty-four hours in nearly three weeks, you’ve been acting completely unhinged every time you get trashed. You’re actively trying to alienate yourself from everyone who cares about you, you-” She stopped short when Denali squeezed her hand, her cue to reel it in. “You’re going down a dangerous path and we don’t want you to get hurt.”

“This isn’t one of those ninety-day programs either,” Jackie chimed in. “It’s only three weeks, and the first five days are just for detoxing. We’re not saying you have to be sober for good, this isn’t AA, it’s a program that’s going to give you the support and help you need to still enjoy things in moderation instead of relying on alcohol as a coping mechanism.”

Lemon nodded and listened as the rest of the group said their pieces to try to convince her to go. And she took it in, but she was also looking around and at the door. After a while, it became clear that she was waiting for - hoping for - another person.

“Priyanka wanted to come,” Jackie told her. “But we weren’t sure how you would react and decided it would be better if she waited at least until after you detox to contact you. You have to know, though, she really does care about you.”

She sunk further into her chair, not angry, but embarrassed. It shouldn’t have had to come to this, she knew that, knew better. And she hated that everything they said was right, that she did need help. “Fine,” she mumbled, “I’ll go.”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the tension dissipated throughout the room. “Rosé and Juice will go back with you to your apartment so you can pack, we’re going to get you checked in tonight,” Widow explained. “The facility is in Westchester, you won’t be more than an hour away and visitation is every Saturday.”

Rosé looked at her younger cousin and could tell she was doing her best to cover her fear and anxiety. She wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You’re going to be okay, baby,” she promised, “they’re gonna take good care of you, and you’re gonna be better than ever once you’re done.”

Lemon nodded quietly, wiping her eyes. “I just wanna get this over with,” she mumbled, still unwilling to allow herself to be vulnerable in front of everyone, though the group anticipated that from her and let it be. All any of them could do now was trust the process.

[brandstifter-sys]

Since I missed Remus’ birthday x_x please take this dukexiety mess as an apology

Dead?

Word Count: 1944

Pairings: Dukexiety (background royaliceit)

Rating: T

Warnings: death mention, intersex enby remus, sex mention, frog mention, spider mention, sibling rivalry

Virgil is just an ordinary necromancer with friends in high places. He goes off exploring on a quest to find a white stag and finds something, well someone, who looks like they’re sleeping in the middle of a tomb that’s been sealed off for a century. It’s one heck of a shock to accidentally raise the dead, if that’s the case, and even more of a shock because Remus is....themself.

Reblogs > Likes 

There were legends and stories that circulated the kingdom, all of them fantastical and hard to believe. Most of the time there was some sort of inaccuracy in the legend, like the story of the princess cursed to sleep for a hundred years with her whole kingdom, only to be woken by true love’s kiss. She woke up after a hundred years and went ballistic, screaming at her father for not inviting the thirteenth fairy to her first birthday party, but that was ages ago, and like her parents, she angered the fae as well. Her two children were hit with a similar curse, but unlike her, her children would sleep for eternity until their true loves came. She never told them.

The legend got marred over time, so that people only remembered one of the children. No one believed that legend until recently, when Prince Janus, recently married to the man who he saved from his own curse, found the old tower and investigated. He found Prince Roman and woke him, not giving details on how he did it. It was fine because Janus and his husband, Patton, were madly in love and madly in love with Roman. Too bad Roman didn’t mention that he wasn’t the only one cursed in that tower. 

...

It was a rather overcast day when Prince Patton suggested his oldest friend go investigate reports of a white stag in the forest. If change was afoot, Virgil would be the first to tell if it was a blessing or a curse. Virgil reluctantly agreed, if only because Patton made puppy-dog eyes at him. Those puppy-dog eyes were going to kill him someday, and he was the only person he couldn’t resurrect. The things he did for his friends.

That’s what led him deep into the woods, beyond where most people dared to tread. He hated the looming feeling of foreboding nipping at his heels, the way the wind whispered his name. But he kept going, always glancing back, and always moving on when there was no threat. He only considered turning back when he found the tower where Roman was sleeping before. There was no reason to go beyond the boundary of the kingdom, especially with a crumbling ruin in the way. 

The door was still open, hanging on its hinges, just as Janus left it. Virgil neared it, just to see what level of stupid Janus reached when he found the tower. But something caught his eye. There was a trap door at the foot of the spiral stairs. Something about it called to the nervous necromancer, and he couldn’t fight the urge to investigate. 

Virgil coughed when he opened the door and a cloud of dust hit him in the face. Covering his nose with his cloak, he descended the stairway he revealed, using the magic gem on his walking staff to light his way. 

The walls were lined with bones, artfully placed to scare the average person away. Virgil worked with death, it was more of a comfort to be surrounded by it, even if he accidentally reanimated a few bodies when he was startled. If this detour didn’t reveal something new and useful, it would still be fun to tell Prince Roman that he was asleep over a tomb for however long he was there. He would probably cringe at that information.

Something was certainly there, a door that looked ancient with dark hinges and an even darker stain. It radiated magic, making Virgil’s hair stand on end. He could handle a few zombies if he had to, so he flipped his bangs out of his face and pressed forward.

He opened the heavy door with some effort and stepped inside. The room was simple stone with old green tapestries and a stone slab in the center. The green curtains around it were drawn, displaying a body that showed no signs of decay. The person looked like Roman, but they had a mustache and longer hair. Virgil stared at them, wondering what kind of magic kept a dead person so well-preserved. They had to be dead, Roman was trapped for over a century, sure, but he had some kind of air flow at the top of the tower. This person, they didn’t, and they weren’t breathing or twitching like a normal sleeping person. Virgil was confused.

BAM!

“Holy shit!” Virgil yelped and spun around when the door slammed shut. He hastily tried to open it and breathed a sigh of relief when it moved.

“Ack! What the hell!?” a voice yelped from behind him. Virgil’s heart stopped. Not again. He turned around to see the person, sitting upright, glancing around the room. Their eyes landed on Virgil, and a smile crossed their confused features.

“Hi! You wouldn’t happen to know where we are, would you?” they asked with way too much enthusiasm.

“We’re in a crypt under a cursed tower,” Virgil answered slowly, gripping his staff tightly, “and I accidentally disturbed your resting place.”

“I was dead!?” they gawked, “And I don’t have any maggots to show for it!?” 

“Yeah I thought that was weird too. But it’s probably been over a hundred years for you so I’m gonna go ahead and put you down again.”

“Aw, do you have to? You’re the first person to talk to me since my brother before he got cursed! And he yelled at me for putting a frog in his shirt! Can I stay undead just a little while?” they pleaded and fluttered their lashes. Virgil blinked twice as their words hit him.

“Who are you?”

“Me? Well I’m Princex Remus! Second in line for the throne! Who are you?” 

“I’m Virgil, a necromancer, but you probably figured that out already. You said your brother was cursed.”

“Oh yeah, him,” Remus pouted, “He turned 18 and then he went into a major coma. Mom said it was her fault and we had to keep him safe. Let’s not talk about him, I’d rather know about you, VeeVee.” 

“I hate that nickname,” Virgil deadpanned.

"Virgilicious?" 

"I'm not responding to that."

“Scare Bear?”

“Sure,” Virgil huffed, expecting the list to go on if he didn’t stop it there and then. 

“Okay, Scare Bear! So what is a snack like you doing in a place like this?”

“I was on a mission for the three princes–Patton, Janus, and Roman–and then I stumbled across this place and got curious.”

“Roman!? He woke up!? Okay you gotta take me to him right now! I’ll come back and stay dead but I gotta see him! I owe him a century’s worth of ramblings!” 

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?”

“Nope! He got cursed and passed out and wouldn’t get up until his true love woke him! I set him in the tower and came down here to relax with the decomposed after that workout!”

“And then?”

“That’s the last thing I remember! That guy had some nerve getting cursed at the bottom of the stairs, I might be strong and nimble but mommy’s favorite is as heavy as he is whiny!”

“Shit," Virgil grumbled as he tried to put the pieces together, "Let me try something." Remus watched him expectantly. The gem in his staff glowed a bright purple, as did his eyes. Remus couldn't understand the words slipping from his lips but that double voice was doing something for them. He was trying to put Remus back. It wasn’t working!

“That was cool! Can you magic me a pair of big ol honkers?” Remus cheered and clapped their hands. Virgil’s shoulders sagged and his face fell, his eyes losing the purple glow.

“I’m a necromancer, I can only raise the dead.”

“And my dick!” 

“Right, yeah, okay, point is you’re not dead, you were asleep for a century.” 

“Just like Ro-hoe?! Then that means—”

“Oh no,” Virgil groaned. He did not sign up for this. He was too aro for this. Remus was cute and hyper but he wasn’t sure how they’d handle a full on rejection. It could get ugly.

“Oh yes!” Remus giggled, “It was the same curse, you woke me up, you’re my true love! This calls for a celebration! No one should love me so it’s a huge deal!”

“Wait, what?”

“We should definitely make out!”

“You have near-death breath, and more self-hatred issues than me. I'll pass."

"Self-hatred issues? Me!? No! I just don't do that romance shit and I was born in between! That's why I didn't think I would be cursed like Prince No-Bone! But I was and you woke me! We’re gonna be bestest friends! With benefits!”

“I know Roman, if you’re like him, there’s no benefits whatsoever.”

“Ha! I like you! We’re gonna be besties! Let’s go so I can show off that I got a hot soulmate and make Ro jealous!” Remus cheered and jumped to their feet full of life and running on sibling spite. 

“Don’t. Just tell him I raised your corpse. He’ll shit himself," Virgil countered and leaned on his staff with a dastardly smirk. Remus had never had someone come up with something else to torment the precious firstborn. It was too good to be true.

“I’m starting to think I did die and went to heaven,” Remus mumbled. Virgil shook his head and stood up. 

"Sorry to disappoint but if I'm here it's hell." 

"You are selling me on this whole soulmate business! C'mon let's go get some embalming fluid and really sell it! And some frogs! Ooh maybe there’ll be some mama frogs out there with their eggs in their backs! Trypophobia and even more frogs! Roman’ll shit a brick."

“The frogs aren’t gonna cut it this time. He’s got two husbands, and one of them was a frog for most of his life.”

“No frogs?” Remus pouted. 

“If you can give up the green, salamanders would work,” Virgil shrugged and pushed the door open with just as much effort as when he opened it. He didn’t catch the bright grin that crossed Remus’ face, but the body slam to his back when he got that damn door open, he didn’t miss that!

“You’re right! Or maybe I could use worms! Or spiders!”

“Just don’t touch mine. Gigi just finished molting,” Virgil grunted and balanced himself.

“You have spiders! Ooh! You have to show me! Spiders are so cute!”

“Don’t eat them.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, that would be awful!” they laughed, then purred “But if you wanna give me something better to eat---” Virgil jolted and stumbled back when the frisky little whirlwind grabbed his butt.

“Give me a good enough reason once we’re out of here, and I’ll consider it,” he huffed and led Remus to the stairway.

“Really?”

“Yeah, if you can convince me. But don’t hold your breath.”

“You know if I die and you want some action all you have to do is bring me back! You look like you’d enjoy some zombie fun, and I’m just a rotten kind of cute when I don’t get startled awake!”

“Don’t you have some sibling scheming to do?”

“Yeah, and I have to get back to arting and training and pranks and making people uncomfortable with my existence, that last one is my specialty!”

“Then let’s go. You need to get started on all those things soon.”

“I’m not making you uncomfortable?”

“I know, I’m just as surprised as you are. Maybe it is that soulmate bs,” he teased and led Remus into the world again. Maybe the soulmate thing wasn’t bs, and maybe it was the best day of either of their lives, they just hadn’t realized it yet.

[kalypsichor]

five’s a crowd [ beatles x reader ] part seven

summary: You’re not jealous of the fact that girls on Tinder love George, you’re not. John may or may not be sexually attracted to metaphors. Paul may or may not have a professor kink. Ringo is just vibin’ like always. Gigi Hadid terrorizes your dreams. Oh, and y’all finally get the McLennon sandwhich you asked for.

warnings: 2k words of the usual bullshit, some english major bashing, actually it’s just john bashing ( sorry @spaceyantique​ ), i love english majors, and miscommunication babey!

masterlist and parts one | two | three | four | five | six

i’m writing this draft at 3 am. it’s a new low for me. oh, and the poem mentioned in geo’s tinder is lyrics from ‘for you blue’

“Well, it is a flattering picture.”

You have to agree with Ringo. The two of you are perched on the couch, peeking over George’s shoulder at the Tinder profile. John and Paul are sharing the armchair, snickering at something. Probably another scheme. Bastards…

The photo is the one John had snapped a few days ago of George in the kitchen. He’s got this brilliant smile on his face, just having taken his first warm shower in weeks, and he’s gloriously naked from the belly button up. It’s a little blurry, but it captures George’s happiness—though you privately think that no picture could ever really do the boy justice. Take that, stupid Tinder girls.

“‘George.’” Ringo reads the bio out loud. “‘Twenty-one. Majoring in horticultural science, looking for a girl to put the ‘ho’ into it.’ This is terrible,” he says rather gleefully. George turns around and gives his friend a betrayed look.

“You missed the best bit. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you. You looked at me, that’s all you had to do.’ What’s that?”

George goes stock still. Slowly, his head turns to John and you swear you can hear it creak like a door hinge.

“You.” The word shakes from his throat with a quiet rage. “You looked through mY DIARY???”

“YOU HAVE A DIARY?” Ringo screeches. Paul has the common sense to look a little frightened, but his boyfriend, who borrows a brain cell from Paul from time to time, does not.

“You write beautiful poetry, George,” John croons, and you have to physically hold George down to keep him from tackling the dumbass. Paul, getting flashbacks to the Shower Debacle, shudders.

You, on the other hand, are trying to wrap your head around the bio. Poetry? About who? That didn’t sound like it was about just anybody. Lucky girl, your mind hisses. Or boy. You immediately try recalling every single time George has brought up a classmate. Your brain sputters a bit and spits out an answer to one of the questions you’d skipped on your first midterm yesterday. Except now it’s fucking useless, isn’t it????

Ringo speaks, bringing you out of your downward spiral into insanity. “Hey, the app says you’ve got a match.”

Frowning, George taps on the notification. “But I haven’t even looked at anyone’s profile.”

“I did you a favor and swiped right a couple o’ times,” John says. George groans—no, the sound does not turn you on a little—and hangs his head forward. By ‘a couple,’ John must’ve meant a couple hundred, because George’s phone is blowing up. The only thing keeping George from hurtling the phone right into John’s smarmy little meerkat grin so hard that he shits pieces of it out for weeks is your hand on him. The warmth of it is radiating out from his shoulder to his chest and sweeping down to his toes. When you take your hand away a few seconds later, thinking it had overstayed its welcome, George has to try very hard not to sigh.

“This one is cute,” Ringo comments. The notification had read ‘Maureen Super Likes You!’ and the phone screen is now showing a pretty brunette, around your age, smiling up at George.

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested.”

He didn’t say she wasn’t cute.

“Wait, wait!” John scrambles out of his armchair, nearly pushing Paul off in the process. George’s thumb pauses where it’s hovering over the ‘delete’ button for the app. “Come on, Geo. You haven’t gone out in years. Like, since high school. Since… since…”

“Pattie,” Ringo says. You and Ringo hadn’t known the other three in high school, but, as always, he was good with names.

Pattie? George has never mentioned a Pattie...

“Yeah, Pattie!” John lights up. You wish people would stop saying her name. “Pattie Boyd. Man, she was a catch… I still remember her blonde hair. And those long legs. She looked like, uh… who’s that model?”

“Bridget Bardot.” Ringo, again.

Paul is mirroring the sour look on your face, though he obviously has a better reason for it.

“No, who the fuck is that? I meant Gigi Hadid. Isn’t that why you dated her?”

“She did not/” George protests. “And no, John, unlike some people, I care about more than just looks.”

At this point, Paul looks as though he’s about to cry. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m more than looks, aren’t I?”

“I didn’t mean you, obviously.” But George’s words are lost under John, who leaps back into the armchair and coos at his boyfriend.

“Macca, you know I love you for more than your looks. You’ve got that big old brain, and you’re the best artist in this whole school… it’s just a bonus you’re so pretty too.”

Paul seems satisfied by this. Stupid fucking English major. John could get anything his way with just a few words.

“John’s right, y’know.” You and Ringo mouth ‘y’know’ at each other and erupt into giggles. “You’ve got to put yourself out there more. You’re in your third year of uni and you haven’t even dated a single person. There’s only one more year before you’re out in the real world! And the sea will be much, much bigger then.”

George scowls, unimpressed by Paul’s little speech. “People aren’t fish, Paul. And I’m vegetarian, so I don’t condone catching them.”

“It’s a metaphor!” Paul cries, throwing his hands in the air. John nods and makes eyes at him as if metaphors were the sexiest thing in the world. He’s probably into that. English majors.

“You tell ‘em, babe.”

The doorbell rings, banishing any homicidal thoughts from your mind.

“That’ll be the takeout,” you say. George flies so quickly to the door, desperate to get out of the situation, that you feel a little gust of wind. You hear him say something to the delivery person and then he’s coming back into the living room, take out boxes in tow and a big smile on his face. Nothing makes the boy happier than food. And maybe leggy blondes that look like Gigi Hadid, your brain suggests, and you sigh.

For a good ten minutes, the conversation is put on hold. You’re all broke college students, after all, and getting Chinese is like a luxury.

“What’d you get?” you ask through a mouthful of food, looking over George’s shoulder. He’s sat back down on the floor in front of the couch again and he lifts the box up so you can see it.

“Veggies with fried noodles. You?”

“Same.”

“Twinsies,” George says solemnly, and you high five over it.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, John and Paul share an eyeroll.

“I got shrimp fried rice if anyone cares,” Ringo pipes up from next to you. You bump your shoulder into his.

“Of course I care, Ritchie. Wanna trade a shrimp for my broccoli?”

He nods and you both chopstick over the terms of the trade. George’s grin drops a little. John and Paul roll their eyes even harder.

After a while, having devoured their food like it’s the Last Supper, you’ e all pulled out your phones. You scroll through Instagram and send a funny post to the flat’s group chat, and everyone laughs simultaneously. Everyone except George, who… has opened Tinder again. Christ, how does he have so many matches?

Well, why wouldn’t he? He’s cute… and funny… and gives the best advice when you’re down…

And you’ll be sharing all that with some other girl if you don’t do something about it.

“Why do these girls keep asking about my teeth?”

You scoff, trying to ignore the pit in your stomach. George’s sexy vampire teeth are yours and yours alone to appreciate, thankyouverymuch. “Probably have oral fixations, the lot of them.”

John does a whole body shudder and you all turn to stare at him. “Don’t fucking talk to me about Freud. That Psych course tore my GPA into shreds.”

“Right, like you care about your grades so much.” You lean back against the couch. “What was so bad about that class, anyway? I enjoyed it.”

“Professor Pang fucked me.”

“WHAT—”

“Fucked me over! Jesus, I dunno why my mouth just had a seizure there.” John cradles Paul’s face in his hands, trying to smooth away the frown on his face. “Paul, you know I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s a Freudian slip, that is,” you comment, sticking your tongue out when John turns to glare at you. Ringo starts humming Hot For Teacher under his breath. John leans over and smacks him.

“The only teacher I’ve got the hots for is you,” John says, turning back to Paul, and you and George make gagging noises. “Professor McCartney…”

“Professor?” Paul’s Pout (yes, with a capital P) turns into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“I think I’ve been bad… shall I serve detention for you?”

“Okay, just go!” You point towards their bedroom. “Please leave the immediate vicinity right fucking now.”

“I’m gonna hurl,” George says. The two horny bastards giggle and scurry off in the direction of your finger, door slamming behind them.

You go to bed that night with a belly full of noodles and a brain full of thoughts that keep you turning and tossing in bed. And when you finally do fall asleep, you dream about Gigi Hadid, cackling as she chases you around with George’s stupid little towel.

***

Your second exam the next day goes miserably.

Okay, maybe you’re being dramatic. It wasn’t that bad—you’d done a fair bit of studying that weekend, invigorated to overcome the Coffee Incident. Still, you couldn’t stop thinking about George the whole time, and him swiping through Tinder, and whoever the hell that Pattie girl is.

Okay, stop it. You can’t hate her for dating the boy you like. Us women have to support each other, the rational part of your brain tells you.

You grumble all the way back to the flat, fighting with the reasonable part of you. Eventually, you give in. Rational You is right. Hating on a chick you don’t know is what makes up eighty percent of Hollywood’s bullshit romcoms. Yes, you are going to be a good person and take the high route.

That all goes away when you open the door.

John and Paul are standing in the kitchen, whispering furiously to each other. You only catch the tail end of what they’re saying—

“-didn’t think he was actually going to do it!”

—before John sees you in the doorway and smacks Paul on the shoulder.

“Heyyy there,” John says. You immediately know something is wrong. You walk shut the door behind you and eye Paul’s smile warily.

“What are you two doing?”

“Erm, we were making a sandwich for you.” Paul gestures exaggeratedly at the plate on the counter, which John holds up at shoves in your direction.

“Yeah, we knew you’d need a little pick me up after the test.”

You look around the flat carefully. It’s awfully quiet. Ringo’s at his twelve o’clock lecture, but you should be able to hear…

“Where’s George?”

This slaps the smile right off of their faces and neither of the boys can put it back on quickly enough for you to not notice.

“He’s doing yoga,” Paul says at the same time John blurts out,

“He went to visit his mum!”

Paul glares at John and you feel something twist in your gut. “Yes, you see...” Paul looks frantically to the ceiling. God won’t help you out of this one. “George went to pick up his mum… and they’re at yoga together!”

You walk into the kitchen, crossing your arms. “Louise lives in Liverpool,” you say slowly.

“Yup,” John says.

“And the yoga studio is ten minutes away from our flat.”

“Yuuup.”

You can’t believe he’s still keeping this up. “And the drive from here to Liverpool is four hours. And George doesn’t have a car.”

“Yuuuuuuuuu—”

“Oh, I can’t take it anymore,” Paul cries, ignoring John’s frantic shushing. “George went on a date with that Maureen girl from Tinder. He’s at the coffee shop now.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

You must’ve said this out loud, because Paul gives you a sympathetic look. After a long moment of silence, John once again offers you the plate.

“Sandwich?” he asks, trying for a smile that comes across more as a grimace.

You take the sandwich and throw it right into the trash, plate and all.

[butter3drainbows]

What if Ghia’s s/o was from a country farther up north, and the much hotter Italian summer is starting to take a toll on them? And Gigi knows they’re about to lose their mind, so he decides to surprise his s/o with a snow day in July?

We have the same mind anon 💖💓Please accept the mini-fic I was working on a while ago as an answer 🥺:

GHIACCIO DRABBLE...

Once Ghiacco determined that both of you were far enough from hq to not draw unwanted attention with what he was about to do, he stopped in the middle of a beaten cobblestone path and gruffly told you to look up at the sky.

You tilted your head curiously at the odd request but did so anyway, shifting your gaze upwards towards the inky vastness above while patiently waiting for Ghiaccio to show you the "something" that he wanted to share to you this fine, irksomely warm evening.

It was a full minute before you saw it. Little by little, speckles of white slowly appeared as they made contact with the light provided by the singularly lit lamp post on the street. You gasped, your nose catching a rather large snowflake before melting into a puddle that quickly slid to the sides of your nose.

"Is this cold enough for you?"

Ghiaccio asked in his usual harsh manner but it came with a mellowness that always manifests whenever he was talking to you.

You spread your arms wide crying out your delight to the sky. You were so happy! It feels exactly what a nice winter evening would feel like in your native country and to be able to experience it in Italy in the middle of the freakin' summer leaves you in awe of Ghiaccio's abilities.

You bounded towards him excitedly and placed a chaste kiss on his cold cheeks before following up with a rushed litany of thank yous and praise. Ghiaccio was kept in place by the stiffness of his back as his mind spiraled into a frenzy at the unfamiliar act of affection placed upon him by your soft lips.

He forced his lips into a tight line before pursing them when he couldn't stop the corners from traitorously lifting themselves. He shifted his gaze to an unfinished bottle of Peroni that littered the side of the streets mumbling a "whatever" as you retreated back to continue frolicking in the artificial playground he set up just for you.

Ghiacco scratched his head feeling totally out of his element from the kiss you just gave him. He was just thankful nobody else was present to see him reduced to a lovesick puppy by a mere stupid kiss. He wouldn't have heard the end of Melone's brand of teasing or God forbid, Illuso's brand of teasing if any of them had seen it.

Little did he know, Melone and Illuso did see it and it was a sight to behold.

Formaggio let out a breath with a shake of his head, his binoculars trained on both of your figures from the abandoned car he was currently hiding in with Melone and Illuso.

"He's fucked."

He sighed as he handed the binoculars to Melone who was sitting by the passenger seat holding a bag of pretzels which he handed to Formaggio in exchange for the device. Illuso leaned excitedly from the back peering through the distance.

"How bad?"

Melone set the binoculars atop the bridge of his nose and focused on Ghiaccio's movements as he licked away the salt on his fingers, humming thoughtfully as he did. His blue-haired friend's shoulders were slack, lacking their usual tense posture as he craned his neck from left to right following your movements. He breathed in a silent call to the Gods when he watched Ghiaccio's shoulders rise and fall slowly in a sigh before he tilted his head to the side in a manner similar to when a person finds something adorable.

Di moltooo...

"Well?" Illuso prods impatiently, "How bad is it?"

"Oh he's got it bad alright," Melone whispered popping a pretzel into his mouth slowly as he catches a glimpse of flashing teeth when Ghiaccio turned slightly towards their direction. "reaaaally bad."

[seouledbysisi]

New World

Chapter 11

The ladies had just arrived at Incheon Airport. It was so different. Everything. The people, the scenery, the atmosphere. Super busy. It was like they had stepped into a new world in a different dimension.

They took a look around hoping that it wouldn’t be hard to find the person who was supposed to show them to their new apartment or dorm as the company had called it. Honestly they had no idea what the true difference was.

Suddenly they saw a lady with a big sign that read SM Ent. on it.

“I think that’s our cue.” Mia voiced beside Gianna.

Gianna was a bag full of nerves. “What if she doesn’t speak English?”

“Well then I guess we just won’t be conversing.” Mia giggled and pulled Gianna with her.

The woman waved with a huge smile. “Mia? Gianna?”

The ladies both nodded eagerly.

“I’m Mia and this is Gianna.” She held her hand out.

The lady quickly shook it. “Hello. I’m Minji, Johnny has told me all about you. I hope you live up to the hype!” She smiled.

Mia’s heart began to beat faster. “I hope so too.” She spoke under her breath.

“C’mon! How was your flight?” She showed them to black Tahoe. A man was standing outside of it. He grabbed their bags and placed them in the vehicle. The girls climbed in.

“The flight was long. Very long.” Gianna finally spoke.

Minji giggled. “Sounds about right. Well your dorm is fully furnished but you’re welcome to buy anything you want to add to it and make it your own. It’s only four miles away from the SM headquarters, so getting to work won’t be a hassle. Any questions?”

“What all does a broadcast director do?” Mia asked. She knew Gianna was dying to know what all this job entailed. Especially since she wasn’t even the one who applied for it technically.

Minji laughed a little. “It’s pretty cool. Basically when artists have a show or concert. Some form of performance, the broadcast director makes sure that everything onstage is proper. The camera footage, choreography. The whole thing. Gianna’s job is basically to make sure everything runs as close to perfect as it can.”

Gianna stared out the window as she took everything in. “So basically if something goes wrong, it’s my fault?”

“Basically. It’s a dog eat dog world but you won’t be alone. You’ll have a team. The cool thing is that you won’t be assigned to just one artist. It will rotate. So sometimes you may have to travel outside of Korea for performances, it just depends on where you fall in the rotation.”

Gianna nodded.

“Will my assignments ever rotate?” Mia asked.

“Yes and no. It just depends. You’re with Red Velvet and lets just say that they change stylists often. If they love you then you’re stuck with them but if they hate you then we’ll try to find you a new fit.” She laughed.

Mia felt bile starting to rise up in her throat. Her anxiety was starting to overtake her.

Gianna grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Are they difficult to work with?”

“No. Most of them are really nice but some are particular about certain things.” Minji stated.

The vehicle came to a stop. It was a tall building. Outside the glass double-doors was a pin-pad and intercom system.

“Wow! This is high tech.” Gianna admired.

Minji put in a code and they headed to the elevator. She showed them to the entrance of their dorm. They could only imagine what the inside would be like.

They were astonished. It was nothing like the apartments in the states. It was loft style and had a bedroom downstairs and upstairs.

“I’ll let you girls get settled in. I’ll come get you in the morning at 10 and show you around the SM headquarters.” She left.

They admired the apartment.

“You want upstairs or down?” Mia asked.

Gianna shrugged. “I’ll take upstairs I guess. I’ll probably be in your room all the time anyway, unless you’re with lover boy.” She joked.

“Johnny isn’t thinking about me like that!” Mia was being modest.

Gianna smiled. “You don’t have to lie, I know y’all talk quite a bit.”

“I just don’t want you in your feelings over Taeyong. That’s why I don’t talk about Johnny much.” Mia sat on the couch.

Gianna sat beside her. “I’m good, Mi! I wanna hear all about Johnny. I think it’s pretty cool that you’re living every fan’s dream.” She tipped her chin.

“He said he wants to see me when he gets back.” Mia clapped her hands.

Gianna squealed. “Oh my gosh! Really??? What are y’all gonna do? When will he be back?”

“You’re more excited than me girl!”

“I’m living vicariously through you!” Gianna giggled.

“Well they come back next weekend and they have some sort of fan meet and mini concert.” Mia told her with a smile. “You might be working it.”

“God, I pray not. I’d rather not work with them directly for right now.” Gianna grabbed her suitcases and headed up the stairs.

Mia pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Johnny on FaceTime. He answered quickly.

“Hey gorgeous!” Johnny seemed overly happy.

Mia eyed his background. “Are you outside?”

“Yeah. There’s a festival here and everyone is walking the streets and bar hopping and stuff. I think it’s October fest?”

Mia nodded with a smirk. “So you’re getting lit?!”

“A little bit. We had a good show and some of the fans told us about this fest.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Mia questioned.

Johnny flashed Haechan, Mark & Yuta on the screen. “The others are around somewhere.”

Haechan smiled with a wave. “Johnny-Hyung who is she?”

“A friend.” Johnny chuckled.

“Pretty friend. Do I know you?” Haechan asked as he stared at the screen a little while longer.

Mia didn’t know what to say.

“Vegas winner.” Johnny answered point-blank. “That’s between us though, okay? No managers need to know.”

Haechan held out his pinkie. “Pinkie promise Hyung.” He hugged him. It was clear that alcohol was in his system. They seemed like they were having a good time.

“I hate to bother you while you’re having fun.” Mia pouted.

“You’re not. Did you make it safely?”

“Yes. Want a tour of the dorm?” She asked with a huge smile on her face.

Johnny nodded.

She showed him the living area, the kitchenette, and her bedroom. “You like?”

“It’s cute. Looks similar to our dorms. Are you and Gianna sharing or she’s in a different space?”

“She upstairs. I’m sure she’ll want to see you.” She rushed you the spiral staircase. Gianna was laying on her bed staring at the ceiling. “Say hi to Johnny!” Mia yelled.

Gianna’s eyes widened. “Hey John Suh!” She nodded her head at him.

“Hey GiGi! How you been?”

“Pretty good. Can’t complain. I have a job, a grown up job so that’s a plus.” She smiled.

Suddenly Taeyong appeared behind Johnny handing over a beer. “Try.” He spoke.

Johnny sipped the bottle. “It’s good. It’s different from what I’m drinking. How many have you had?”

“Just this one. No more. Can’t handle it.” He sat beside him, not even noticing that Johnny was on FaceTime.

Johnny stared at him for a moment. “Not gonna say hi?”

Taeyong raised an eyebrow. “To who-“ at that point he knew exactly who Johnny was talking about. He saw Mia first but in the background was Gianna. He waved towards the camera. His heart had dropped in his stomach.

“Hey Tae.” Mia spoke.

Gianna simply nodded back.

Taeyong and Johnny began conversing in korean. They obviously didn’t want the girls to know what they were saying. The funny thing was that the girls had been listening to korean music and watching k-dramas for years to have picked up on a bit of the language.

“He asked him why he didn’t tell him that he was on the phone with us. ” Gianna giggled sarcastically.

Mia rolled her eyes. “I figured he would. He’s being weird.”

The guys looked back at the camera. “Y’all understand korean?” Johnny asked.

“A little. Not as much as we should but we picked up on some of what y’all said.” Mia responded. “Burst your bubble?”

Johnny chuckled. “A little bit.”

Taeyong moved next to Mark.

Gianna’s phone pinged. TY💚 So you moved to Korea?

She showed her phone to Mia. “What the fuck is happening?”

Mia shrugged. “Strange things.”

“We haven’t talked since the other day.” Gianna laughed. Yep. She texted back.

Mia and Johnny continued to talk.

Gianna’s phone pinged again. Did you not want me to know?

She rolled her eyes. No, it just never came up. You would find out anyway because we work for the same company.

SM? He texted almost immediately.

Gianna sighed. Yes. I’m a Broadcast director now.

Wow. Congrats. Sucks you didn’t tell me.

Gianna shoved her phone in Mia’s face. “He’s acting like he didn’t know!” She laughed.

“Maybe he really didn’t, Gi.” Mia was giving Tae the benefit of doubt.

Thought you knew. She responded.

Her phone pinged a few minutes later. It was a simple ‘👍🏼’ from him.

“Hey Johnny, where’s Taeyong?” Mia asked.

He looked behind him and noticed that the chair beside Mark was vacant again. “Where TY?”

“He said he was going to the van and waiting with the managers.” Mark shrugged. “He seemed mad.”

Mia looked over at Gianna. “You did this so now you gonna fix it, right?”

“There’s nothing to fix.” Gianna stated and headed downstairs leaving Mia behind. She wasn’t in the mood to have a conversation about Taeyong or anyone else for that matter. She was more interested in preparing for her first day of work.

[fangirlfiction]

Angels and Demons

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: ENDGAME SPOILERS! Violence, blood, vomiting, 99% angst, 1% fluff. Sadness, anger. The usual :)

Prompt: This was written for Gigi’s ( @tropicalcap ) 4k challenge which was due literally MONTHS ago, I’m so so so sorry, Gigi!!! My prompt was the song Angels by the XX.

Summary: Some people move on, but not us.

a/n: Hey, hi, hello, it is me again!!! I am back on my angst game, sorry about it. This has some Love Told in Seven inspiration, which was written by my sweet angel bff, Attie ( @barnesrogersvstheworld )! Definitely go read it, it’s a freaking masterpiece. Please let me know what you think of this, I’m still trying to get back into my writing game. okay, I love you all!!!

italics indicate events from the past

You wake with a gasp, chest heaving, skin sticky with sweat, panic weighing on you heavily.

You sit up quickly, hand pressed to your pounding heart, your breath rushing past your lips in quick bursts. A warm arm snakes around your waist and pulls you backwards, closer to him. Your head hits the pillow and you turn to face him as he whispers, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Your eyes meet his blue ones, and the lights from the street filter through the curtains and catch the blonde of his hair. You feel your stomach twist before you jump from the bed and run to the bathroom, seconds before emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

-

It always ends the same. Your family on the ground around you, rivers of blood running across the floor towards you. You look down at your hands, to the knife you’re gripping tightly, the same red staining the handle. The knife clatters to the ground, the sound too loud in your head, and you wake with a scream.

You are up and out of the bed in seconds. Panic courses through you, making you feel sick, and you stand near the bed trying to catch your breath. The bed shifts beside you and he whispers your name quietly, cautiously. Your eyes meet his blue, his dark hair a curtain around his face. The look he gives you is one your mom always gave you when you came home covered in bruises; worried and sad. The thought sends you spiraling again and you run from the room, down the hall and up the stairs, until you reach the roof.

You walk in tight circles, hands tangled in your hair, tears spilling down your cheeks. You see them, their faces, haunting you. Bucky jogs through the door a moment later, fear written on his face, and you run towards him. His arms wrap around you tightly as you sob into his chest, and he whispers, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here, I’ve got you.”

-

The hut sits in the distance, the only one in sight.

Gardens line the pathway on both sides, and stretch as far as your eyes can see. Thanos’ armor serves as a scarecrow to keep the birds away.

Steve walks ahead of you, and Nat walks on your left. Plants brush your legs as you walk by, barely felt through the fabric of your pants. Steve walks up the stairs first, followed by you and Nat. Thanos is in the corner of the room, groaning, held back by Carol, Rhodey, and Bruce. Thor stands near Rocket, the gauntlet at their feet. Rocket turns the gauntlet over, and you feel your heart squeeze in panic.

You look at Steve, the same panicked look in his eye. He sets his jaw and turns to face Thanos.

“Where are they?”

Thanos is silent and Carol tightens her grip around his neck. “Answer the question.”

“The Universe required correction. After that, the Stones served no purpose beyond temptation.”

Bruce lunges towards Thanos, and pushes him, sending him flying to the ground. “You murdered trillions!”

Thanos spits out, “You should feel grateful.”

Your stomach twists painfully, and you fight to keep your composure. Nat’s voice shakes slightly as she asks, “Where are the Stones?”

“Gone. Reduced to atoms.” His voice lacks any sound of remorse, and you fight back tears.

“You used them two days ago!”

“I used the Stones do destroy the Stones.” Thanos pauses, and his voice wavers. “It nearly...killed me. But the work is done. It always will be.”  He leans forward slightly and breaths out, “I am...inevitable.”

You feel your composure start to slip as you turn and run from the hut, boots thudding on the wood as you fly down the stairs and out into the gardens. Choked sobs escape past your lips, as hot tears spill down your cheeks. You hear a commotion inside but ignore it, trying to focus on the pace of your breathing. You reach up to your neck and touch the ring that hangs from the chain there, gold band with a small aquamarine stone.

You hear boots crunching on the ground behind you and you turn and find Steve standing there. He nods once and you step into his arms, crying softly into his chest.

-

You sit outside the hut, looking at the land around you, no one in sight as far as your eyes can see. You take a deep breath in and let it push past your lips slowly, releasing the last bits of tension inside you. You hear soft footsteps approaching from behind you, and you turn to look over your shoulder, smiling when you see him. The smile he gives you in return is bright, worry free.

He plops down beside you, legs crossed, before handing you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it. You smile in thanks and pull your knees up to your chest before sipping on the warm coffee. You both sit in quiet silence for a while, before Bucky eventually breaks it. “I always wanted this, you know.”

You turn and look at him with a questioning gaze, but say nothing. He gestures at the land and the hut behind him, “A place of my own. Quiet.” He looks at you, “Someone to share it with.”

You smile and look down at your coffee. “It’s been nice being here with you. Ignoring everything that’s happening beyond Wakanda’s border.” You sigh, “Won’t last forever though.”

Bucky shrugs, “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean we can’t get back to this one day. After everything is said and done.”

He shifts beside you, and you turn to look at him. He takes your coffee from your hands and sets it on the ground between you, before taking your hand and placing something on your palm. You look down and see a small ring sitting there, with an aquamarine stone set into a gold band. You pick it up and look at him with a grin, “What’s this?”

“A promise.” He takes it from you and slides it onto your left finger. “A promise that whatever happens next, we’ll face it together. That I’ll always keep you safe. A promise to live a life together, quiet, like this, because we’ve fought long enough.”

You lean forward with a happy laugh and pull him in for a kiss. You lean back and smile as you whisper, “I promise, too.”

-

You stand in your shared room at the Compound, arms crossed and jaw set, glaring at the back of Steve’s head. “No. I’m not going.”

He turns away from the closet, pulling on a flannel, glancing at you briefly. He sighs your name. “It’ll help. I promise.”

You flinch as if you’ve been slapped, and Steve notices your silence. He looks up and sees your expression, his face softening. “You don’t have to speak. You can just listen.”

“Listen to a bunch of average nobodies talk about ‘their loss’? No thanks.”

His expression hardens, and you can sense the start of a lecture. “Hey, that’s not-”

“No, Steve, I don’t care! I don’t care what they have to say! They were probably sitting at their desks in their mundane office job, typing away when it happened. They didn’t watch the love of their life turn to ash right next to them! They don’t know what it’s really like to lose, because They.  Weren’t. There.”

Steve sobers up instantly, his voice dropping to a controlled whisper. “But I was. I was there. I loved him too, you know. And you can’t walk around acting like you’re the only one who lost someone. We all have.”

He glances down at his watch, and grabs his wallet and keys before turning to walk to the door. He stops, hand on the knob. “I know he was the love of your life, but...he’s gone. I’m here. I’m here, and I’m trying to be what you need.”

He pulls open the door and walks out, pulling the door closed behind him. As soon as you hear it click, you drop to your knees, silently sobbing for them both.

-

You and Bucky sit side by side on the bed, silent, his new arm occasionally brushing against yours.

You let out a shaky breath. “I knew it wouldn’t last forever.”

“Hey,” he threads his fingers through yours and tugs your hand up, bringing the ring into view. “I made you a promise. I’m gonna keep it.”

Your voice comes out in a whisper, “But what if you can’t?” You look up at him and lock eyes, “Bucky, I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t lose you.”

He shakes his head, “You won’t. This is it, okay? One last fight and it will all be over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

-

You pull the final piece of the suit on, securing it on the sides, before looking up at yourself in the mirror. In the corner you see Steve appear, walking closer to you. You exchange small smiles before he steps up behind you and wraps his hands around your waist. You watch him in the mirror as he asks, “You ready?”

You nod.

“Are you nervous?”

You nod.

He spins you in his arms so that you’re facing him, before he pushes hair from your face and rests his hands on your cheeks.  “Don’t be. This is going to work. One last shot and then it’ll be over. He’ll be back.”

“And what about us?”

He smiles, “We’ll figure it out.”

-

You blink your eyes open against the bright sun, before it’s eclipsed by the arrival of Bucky. He reaches out and pulls you to your feet, wiping away the blood that’s dripping from your nose. You both walk from the brush and into the clearing, before stopping a few feet behind Steve. His hand is clutching his side, eyes locked on Thor, voice bewildered. “Where did he go?”

He looks around and you exchange a confused look with Bucky. “Thor, where’d he go?”

Bucky shifts beside you, drawing your attention to him. You look over at him, and his eyes lock with yours, full of fear. He reaches out for you, and you both look at the arm stretched between you, as it starts to turn to dust. You look back up at Bucky, scared, and he whispers, “I promise.”

Your voice cracks, confused as you question, “Bucky?”

You see Steve turn as he hears your voice, both of you watching as Bucky’s entire body turns to dust, gun clattering to the ground loudly. You look at Steve and back to where Bucky was standing, dropping to your knees and muttering, “No, no, no, no! Bucky? Bucky, you promised!”

Steve comes closer to you and drops down beside you, pressing his hand into the ash at your feet.

-

You stand near Steve on the battlefield, shocked, as people continue to emerge from the bright gold portals. Your eyes scan every face quickly, looking for one in particular.  

Your heart stops when you finally see him.

He steps from the portal, the light shining brightly behind him, casting an angelic glow. You watch him scan the crowd for you, finding you quickly, and you both run to each other wearing matching smiles. He catches you easily and spins you around before setting you back down and pulling you into a hug. You stand taller and kiss him, tears sparkling in both of your eyes. He leans back with a smile and whispers, “A promise is a promise.”

-

Steve and Sam shake hands before Steve walks closer to you and Bucky.

You don’t miss the look on Bucky’s face as Steve stops in front of you both. He smiles at Bucky and jokes, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

They both hug before pulling away, and Bucky steps back, giving you and Steve space. You turn to look at him with skepticism, and he nods for you to go ahead. You turn back to Steve, who’s giving you a small smile. “I told you he’d be back.”

You nod and smile, unsure what to say. He holds open his arms for a hug, and you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist. He whispers into your hair, “I hope I was what you needed.”

You pull back, tears in your eyes, still confused. Your voice cracks when you reply, “You were.”

He steps back and moves onto the Quantum Tunnel, and Bucky moves up beside you and wraps his arm around you. You look up and smile at him and he kisses your forehead and smiles in return.

Sam turns to Bruce, “How long is this going to take?”

“For him? As long as he needs. For us, five seconds.” Steve picks up Mjolnir and Bruce looks up from the controls. “You ready, Cap?”

Steve turns and gives him and nod and Bruce starts flipping switches. “Alright, we’ll meet you back here, okay?”

“You bet.”

“Going quantum in 3...2...1…”

You all watch Steve shrink until you can’t see him anymore, and Bruce immediately announces, “And returning in 5...4...3...2...1…”

Bruce flips the switch to bring him back, and your stomach drops when nothing happens.

“Where is he?”

Bruce pours over the controls, confused. “I don’t know, he blew right past his time stamp. He should be here.”

You look to Bucky, worried, only to find him looking unsurprised. You whisper, “Bucky, what do you know?”

He turns to walk away, pulling you with him, and you repeat, “Bucky, what’s going on?”

He starts to reply but freezes in his tracks, and you stop to follow his gaze. On a bench near the lake sits a hunched over figure. You start to move towards it, but Bucky grabs your hand and glances to Sam. You nod, and Bucky states, “Sam.”

Sam comes to stand beside you both and you all exchange a look. Bucky whispers, “Go ahead.”

Sam goes to stand beside Steve, and you turn to Bucky with confusion. “Did you know?”

He shakes his head, “No, but I suspected.”

“Was it her? Peggy?”

Bucky looks down at you, and tucks some hair behind your ear. “I think so.”

You nod, just as Sam comes to stand beside you again, shield in hand. He whispers your name, “He asked for you.”

You look up at Bucky again and he gives you a bright smile and a nod, before nudging you towards the bench. You don’t look at Steve as you sit down beside him, hands placed in your lap. Steve reaches over and grabs your hand, the feel of his wedding band cool against your finger. “What happened to figuring it out?”

His voice shakes slightly when he responds, “This was me figuring it out.”

You look over at him now, hurt written on your face. He wipes away the tears that run down your cheeks. “He’s the love of your life. She was mine.”